Baby Not on Board

I suppose I will catch a bunch of flak for what I am about to write but I really don't care.  It is just a weird fact about me.

I am not a fan of babies.

I didn't like being pregnant.  Not. One. Bit.  It was a weird yucky feeling and then it became unbearably uncomfortable.  

I know that it has been noted that pregnant women look glowing and beautiful and all that blah blah shit.  I was even told that of myself way back when.  I didn't feel it.  I looked tired and grumpy.  

My belly never "popped" out until about 8 months and then everybody was touching me.

I probably should mention that I hate strangers touching me.

I would mention the fact that I hated being pregnant in various conversations when others would gush about how they loved it.  I just didn't get it.

bleh....

When I was pregnant with my son, I didn't have morning sickness.  It came about mid evening.  The very thought of Chinese food would send me flying into the bathroom.  I craved canned spinach and ate it right out of the can.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, her baby body was pushing on something and I couldn't stop coughing.  The doctor couldn't prescribe anything for it because it would hurt the fetus.  I coughed so hard, I would throw up.  I slept most nights on the bathroom floor.

I was miserable.

Now you are probably thinking that I just hated being pregnant.

Oh no...

Babies aren't my thing.  I don't like guessing why they are crying.  I hated that whole diaper thing.  Then they spit up that yucky stuff.  I don't care to hold them.  I don't like the smell of them.  Bottles, nooks, diapers, mixing formula (my kids had issues), car seats, no sleep.....my list goes on...didn't like any of it.  You have to plug all the outlets, baby proof the cabinets, put all your breakable collectibles away. Do I even have to mention stretch marks?

Oh and I cannot stand the smell of baby powder.

HURL!!!!

Someone would come into work with their new baby and everyone would ask to hold it.  Not me!  Nope....  Everyone would gush over how cute it was.  Not me!  Nope...  I would look at that new beaming mom and think "you poor woman, no sleep for 2 to 3 years" and "good luck getting back to normal".

I know I sound terrible.

I can't help it.

My kids think it's funny that they made it out of babyhood.

It isn't that I would lock them in the closet when the cried or left them in poopy diapers. 

I did the whole mommy thing and suffered.  I just would go out of my way to have more babies.

Once my babies started becoming little people, I just enjoyed them so much more.  As they continue to grow into young adults, I continue to enjoy them. 

They have grown into wonderful people.  They are intelligent, witty and awesome.

and...

They are not babies.

Dirty Little Liar

Depression

Many people talk about it, many people have it, many people don't understand it.

There are many descriptions of it and how it feels to have it.  There are treatments for it.

I have had it for many many years.  Ever since I hit puberty, I have dealt with it.  Sometimes it ebbs and then there are times it flows.

This time of year is difficult.

I have the moments where I don't want to get out of bed.  I have the teary eyed drive home moments.  (The car is such a bastard because it traps me with my thoughts.)  I have the moments of insecurity and can't even stand my own reflection.  I have the "I'm so broke, I can't do anything fun" moments.  I lose interest in anything that gives me the slightest joy.  I think I have no friends or have friends that just don't give a shit.

Life becomes flat.

There is no other fix for it than just plugging through it.

I try to block out the damn lies that depression whispers in my ear.

It tells me things.

You are not good enough.  Nobody loves you.  That big zit on your face will never go away.  You will never ever have any money.  You are ugly.  You are fat.  Everyone leaves you because it is your fault.  You can't do anything right.  Your animals are going to die because you mistreat them.  Your kids think you are a failure.  You are just so stupid.  

and the list goes on....

All lies

When you are in the pit of depression, the lies become so believable.  One million people can all tell you that they are not true and tell you so many positive things but you tend to believe those whispery lies because you know you best.

Even your little helper pill doesn't help.  (citalopram, zoloft, lexapro, paxil, prozac...for examples)

So how to deal with it.

Good question

I tend to just accept it as it is and hope it passes quicker than the last bout with it.  I never have thoughts of suicide but I can see where someone may be pushed to that level.  I tend to think about running away, just disappearing into the unknown.  I start looking at other countries or places to go.  I look at job postings and plan an escape.  It takes long enough to check everything out that I kind of forget about the depression.

Funny, eh?

I know that there are so many other people who deal with depression and that is just sad in itself.  Sometimes I wonder why so many of us have to deal with it.  

This world would be such a better place if we just didn't have depression.

If Wishes Were Horses Then Beggars Would Ride

Sometimes I sit and just wish....

I wish I was taller sometimes.  It seems like I am three inches too short to reach just about anything.  Why in the heck do they put two liters up so high at the local Piggly Wiggly?  I just stand there and sigh and say a little prayer that I won't just drop one on my head as I try to finaggle (yes, that's a word) it out of its spot and into my cart.

I wish I were prettier sometimes.  I look in the mirror at my poor tired face and think I just looked better about 10 years ago.  Life really takes its toll on a woman's face.  Just sayin...

I wish I were richer sometimes.  Not just with money but with wealth.  It seems that I don't have much of anything.  I don't have an estate.  They do say money can't buy happiness but I don't think I would be sad sitting in a big house with no payment.  I also don't think I'd miss my job much.  It tend to make me tired.

I wish I had more friends that lived closer and wanted to do shit.  I basically sit at my job all day (looking tired) and then I go home and sit (looking tired) alone.  I don't interact with anyone other than my kids.  I don't go to a Saturday bridge club nor do I go bowling.  I don't do much of anything except spend time with myself.

I wish I could just go some where else.  I get tired of being some where.  I watch that House Hunters show where these people just leave the life they are living to live another life some where else that is different.  I think, "Wow, such new experiences and cultures."  I was to just go do that.

I wish my kids got along better.  They bicker and argue.  This makes me tired (and have a headache).  They aren't very tolerant of each other.  I keep thinking that things will get better as they get older but so far they are just older.

I wish I could have spent more time with my mom before she died.  I regret not just going to spend time with her.  Instead I stayed here with no friends and my crappy job (my old job that made me not only tired but angry).  I should have just left here and went there.

I wish I could have explained to my mom how therapy was working.  She would have just got defensive though and probably angry and most likely would have stopped talking to me.  She got mad at everyone else including her mom and sisters and my dad and other people and just stopped talking to them.  She made it difficult to be me sometimes.

I wish I was skinnier.  I know I should diet and exercise and all that crap but I don't.  It is my fault but still, I can wish for it.  I wish french fries made you drop the pounds.

I wish I could be with someone who wouldn't just leave me or cheat on me or just be a real douche bag.  This tends to prevent me from dating.  It also makes me lonely.  Maybe this is why I got the three damn cats.  This is why women get cats.  They get tired of being hurt.  I wish this wasn't the case, but it is.  

I wish I was happier.  I need to find out what exactly makes me happy.  I need to find a passion or have a goal or something.  

I wish I could write a fabulous book that allowed me to do tours and be on stage to talk about the crap in my book.  People would always want to come listen to what I have to say because I am witty and wise. 

I wish my asthma would go away.  I cough so hard sometimes that it feels like my brains will explode out my mouth and leave me dead right there on the street.  My chest hurts and it makes me tired.

I wish I could go back in time and just do what I wanted to do instead of what others wanted me to do.  I would have made mistakes.  I probably would have had regrets.  I most likely would have failed a few times.  I just would have been better than wondering "what if".

I wish I wasn't so tired sometimes.

I just wish....

I Wanted to be a Farm Girl

Over the last year or so....or maybe even longer I have really been thinking about what I am passionate about.  

You see, I struggle with depression.  Some of it is because I am not doing what I am passionate about.  I sit in an office all day doing what I do.  Not that I hate my job, but I am not passionate about it.

Insurance is not what lies within my dreams.

Nor was law....(I was a legal assistant for a good stint of time.)

I went to counseling when I was really struggling.  I spoke about my past.  I spoke about my dreams and what I desired to do.  I think this was the first time ever that I voiced it and didn't receive criticism for it.

You see, when I was five years old and a wee tot in kindergarten we were asked to state what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I was so excited to share that I wanted to be a farm girl.  I drew a picture of a girl standing next to a horse in a barn.  My detail was extraordinary for a five year old. (In my opinion)  You could really tell that was what I was passionate about in 1975.  Really, that is what I wanted to be.  I loved animals. I loved the big yard.  I loved the garden and orchard.  I loved living on a small farm.  And my teacher asked what I wanted to be.....with my chest bursting with pride and joy and a sticker on my picture I ran up the driveway to show my mom.  With a big smile on my face I handed her the picture and she looked at me and asked...

"Why on earth would you want to live on a farm for the rest of your life?"

I was deflated.

That was the first of many attempts of figuring out my passion and was the first of many replies of "Why in the hell would you want to do that?" and "You can make any money doing that." oh and my favorite....

"Have you lost your damn mind?"

Obviously my mother was not supportive.  My dad was pretty much non-involved.  He was off selling insurance.  He sold insurance for a good portion of his life.  I am pretty sure that wasn't his passion.

But....that's his story and this is mine.

I cannot just blame my mom.  (I do love her and miss her)

I could have just thumbed my nose at the negativity and just have done what I wanted to do.

In high school we were supposed to work with the counselor to develop our goals.  I really never had any.  I was afraid to dream big and reach high.  I molded myself into whatever anyone wanted me to do.

I was accepted into a university in Colorado to pursue a degree in design.  I wanted to design buildings and their interiors.  I still look at structures with awe wishing that I took that path. 

There were other plans.

I was told that I had to go to school locally or it would not have been paid for.

Again, I was defeated.

Worried that I couldn't do it alone, I set out to major in Economics and pretended to be happy.

That was then....

And now, I sell insurance.

*sigh*

It isn't my passion.  My passion is lurking somewhere underneath, just wanting to bust out again.  Fear is what keeps it hiding.  Hiding so deep that even I am unsure what that passion is anymore.

I have dreams at night of me up on stage.  I am a motivational speaker.  I am telling others to find out what it is that they really want in life and to go out after than damn dream.  

We only live once.

There are no do-overs here.

So many of us are unhappy.  We walk around pretending that this is the life we want.  We take our anti-depressants and plod along.

I often think back to my drawing.  I know I have it somewhere in a scrap book.

I believe that it is time to pull it out and hang it where I can see it.  It needs to become a constant reminder that my passion is there and I just need to find it and let it soar.




*Update*  Here is the drawing.  Don't be too jealous of my five year old self and my creativity.

Why Dating Sites Make Great Blog Fodder

The kids told me (not asked me but told me) to start dating again.  They worry that I will be lonely (translation: I need help around the house.) when they are gone.

I haven't dated anyone since my break up (a bad one, mind you) with "he shall who shall not be named".

The break up caused a bit of heartache and also left my head really messed up since the issues with that relationship didn't surface until shortly (well, right after) that break up happened.

Anyway....

I decided to sign up on the dating site where I once was a while back.  I met some cool guys who remain my friends today.  I also met someone I fell in love with until he did a dumb ass thing and I fell out of love with him.

I signed up about 30 hours ago.

^^^^ see that ^^^^

30 hours

I received several messages.  Some were worth responding to and I even let one guy text me.  This one guy asked to be friends on Facebook.

I agreed.  I mean, what could it hurt?

right????

Well...

This jackwagon goes through my photos, texts me how gorgeous I am.  I politely thank him for the compliment.  (Silently, I wondered if he was blind).  Then all of a sudden he texts me saying that he couldn't figure me out.

huh?

I didn't know I needed figuring.

I am not a math problem.

So I questioned him.

He said that he didn't think I was serious about dating anyone and that he thinks I am wasting men's time by being there. 

Huh???

Yeah....ok....

He got that from the few texts and exchanges on the damn dating site.

hrrrrmmmmm....He must be Dr. Joyce Brothers in disguise.  Who is wasting who's time here buddy?

So I confronted him.

This is what he read.....ready????

"I don't have any tattoos because I'm not a fam of pain or commitment.  Pretty much the same reasons I'm not in a relationship"

Apparently he didn't get my sense of humor and promptly "unfriended" me.

He also isn't getting any more correspondence from me either.

Oh and...I also removed my profile from the dating site.

Ain't nobody got time for that.

*sigh*