Anonymity is a Voice of Cowards

Today was a trying day to say the least.

I have been having weird issues with headaches, dizzy spells, metal taste in my mouth, losing hair and abdominal pain.  I saw the doctor today to rule out some things but nothing really got ruled out.  I just have to see a different doctor on May 9th.  I won't say too much about what is going on since I don't have the answers yet.

I can deal with it.  Even though I am worried, I can deal with it.

She did discover that I have a sinus infection...still.  I thought it was cleared up but apparently is it really good at trickery.  So I have some huge horse pills to take.

Isn't that great?

So let's get to the point of this blog entry....

I come home from the doctor to find a letter in my mailbox.  There was no return address and no signature on the letter.

The letter is anonymous.

It goes on to tell me that I need to make the decision to be happy. Apparently, I am not happy and this person gathers this from whatever I post on facebook.

Yeah, facebook drama....

I hate facebook but then again I can't turn away from it.  Isn't that weird.  I suppose that many people have this issue.

Moving on...

the writer of this letter also tells me to move on and to get over it.  I guess I am angry all the time too.  

hrrmmm

The writer of the letter talks about my mother and what she did to me. (look up narcissistic mothers and the damage that they do...just look).  I'm not letting that go, not yet.  My therapist said that it is ok for me to be angry about it.  I am allowed to be pissed off and bitter and have negative feelings.  There is some serious damage done and I am NOT letting that go.  If that bothers you, then too bad.  Too fucking bad....

I guess the writer says that I am passing this anger on to my children.  Um, I don't think so.  I have done a lot of work to not be the kind of mother I had.  I allow them to follow their dreams and do what they love.  I support them emotionally.  I tell them every day that I love them.  And if that is passing my anger on to them, then so what.

The writer also used the phrase "be happy" so many times, I wanted to vomit.  Choose to be happy, just be happy, in fact....be happy were the last two words on the letter.  Really?  Just be happy?  Is that all it takes?  This person must be on some sort of medication or doesn't really understand depression.  

If I don't make the choice to be happy then I guess I prefer to live my life in misery.  Yep, that is what it says.  Sounds like this person doesn't know diddly about me at all.  

Also, the writer stated that my mother, me and my daughter are angry, bitter, drama queens.  

Pfft....whatever.....

Oh and the very best part....wait for it.....

Wait

For

It

The writer says that I suck the good, the positive, and the happiness out of people because of my choices.

Yep....that right there just pissed me off.

So many people enjoy my company.  They enjoy my conversation and my humor.  I have an ability to take whatever stressful situation and put a funny spin on it.  The doctor's office today was a great example.  I can make my broken ovaries a very funny discussion.

If anything sucks, it has been numerous people and what they have done to me.  I have been taken advantage of so many times.  I guess that has been my choice in the past.  I chose these people to be around and they sucked me out of my happiness.  So, I no longer really talk to those people anymore.

The letter goes on the say that my father and my exes help me out and I have a nice place to live and blah blah fucking blah....and I should be grateful for it.  I am grateful, really.  All three of them really caused a lot of hurt in the past and I got over it and moved on.  I forgave the cheater, the pansy and the leaver (I won't say who is who, just that all three of them left me and left me wounded.)  I am grateful for my ability to forgive and my ability to ask for help.  I am grateful that I can look past the past hurts and allow these three people to be a part of my life.

How's that for being grateful?

Therapy has been a very positive choice that I have made.

I have become so much stronger.  I have realized that I am entitled to be angry and pissed off.  I allowed to have feelings.  I am also able to look in the mirror and see what a beautiful person I am despite all the negativity I have dealt with.

Apparently, what I write on the interwebs is always up for criticism.  I never minded that.  I don't really ever give two shits what anyone thinks.  I am who I am.  I am not here to impress anyone.  I never cared about stuff like that.  If you don't like me or what I say, that isn't my problem...it's yours.


This person could have sent me a nice card.  Maybe something to cheer me up, you know, a card with puppies or kittens on it.  They could have told me how pretty I am or how wonderful my kids are.  Hell, they could have not bothered to send anything at all and kept their freaking stupid opinions to themselves.  Now there's an idea.

So whoever wrote this letter and took the time to mail it, is a fucking coward.  This person think they know me and all my crosses, all my hurts, all my smiles, all my thoughts and feelings.

They don't.

They suck at anonymity.  

I know exactly who they are; a cruel, ugly, mean, horrible, stupid, heartless, little person.

and that made me happy to write that.  :-)

All Right Stop, Collaborate and Listen

How's that for a little earworm?

haha!

I have read and re-read a blog about a stop doing list.  Back in the MySpace day I used to blog lists all the time.  I love lists.

Lots of lists....


I love reading other lists as well as writing them.

I'm funny that way.

But to get back to the purpose of this blog....  I did read "A Celebration of the Stop Doing List" several times.

You can read it here:

A Celebration of the Stop Doing List

I kept thinking about what I would put on my list.  I mean seriously thought about it.  There are so many things I need to stop doing and there are some things that I already stopped doing a while ago.

I will stop:

1. Biting my nails.
2. Dwelling on the past
3. Telling myself that I used to be beautiful
4. Accepting bad behavior from others
5. Being a door mat
6. Leaving the fridge open when I get a glass of milk
7. Neglecting obligations
8. Worrying about things I can't control
9. Living my life to please others
10. Closing myself off
11. Telling myself that I can't
12. Surrounding myself with negative people
13. Listening to the gremlins in my head

So there you have it in all its glory....my list.

So what are you going to stop doing?

Ever Wish That You Did That One Thing?

I met with the photographer that took my son's senior pictures today.  It is always a good hour of conversation.  He shows me photos that he has taken of other kids, weddings, families...you know, that stuff that photographers take photos of.  

I remarked on the lighting and the color combinations and how this compliments that.  I also pointed out that so and so was slouching and that one girl should have popped her boobs out more.

He said I have a good eye.

I knew that.

Once upon a time I wanted to work in the creative arts.  I wanted to design.  Interior design, graphic design, photos...whatever.  I just wanted to do it.

In fact, I was accepted into a school to do just that.  I wanted to do it so badly.

BADLY!

My parents told me that they weren't paying for that school though.

damn...

I regret not doing that so much.

I know design things on the side and sell them in an Etsy shop.  I say things because it is phone charms, hair stuff, jewelry, bookmarks...whatever tickles my creative nerve.

When ever I pull out my beads and tools I am the most happy.  

I should have just found a way to do what I love to do instead of pleasing others.  

Regrets are a bitch.

Oh and you can find my stuff here:

My really cool shop called Inspiralicious

Angry Angry Hippos

It amazes me how much anger I can have bottled up.  I don't really let it out in constructive ways either.

I can almost feel my insides shaking with it.  It crawls under my skin.

I think anger is just an extension of my depression.

I stay depressed and then it manifests into something quite ugly.  For some reason it gets to that level sometimes.  I never really know what triggers the flip from one feeling to the other.

I am angry because my brother brings up my mom.  It isn't his fault because he doesn't know the whole story of the narcissistic parent/daughter thing going on.  I don't dare tell him because I don't think he would get it and that will just turn into something incredibly ugly.

I am also angry because I feel used.  I loaned money to a "friend".  (ya ya...I know the lecture) and of course this was a couple of years ago and he still hasn't paid me back.  He was supposed to pay me back two months after I loaned it to him.  Now I see him posting about going here and there and of course it requires spending money.  Jackass.....

I am angry for not being able to allow myself to spend my very first bonus on something I want.  I wanted a tv, so I looked at tvs.  Did I buy one?  Nope.  I wanted a sewing machine, so I looked at sewing machines.  Did I buy one?  Nope.  I wanted a new fish tank so I looked at fish tanks.  Did I buy one?  Nope.  I wanted new pots and pans and then at this point I just said "fuck it" and didn't bother.

Damn it.

I am angry at ignorant people who don't take the time to validate facts.  Why this bothers me, I have no idea but it does.  If you are going to share a "fact" with the entire world, you should make damn sure that it is in fact, a fact.  Why spread stupidity?  WHY??????  My mother used to do this and it just pissed me off.

I am angry because my drive way is icy.  I mean "fall on your ass" icy and "break a hip" icy.  I am so sick of winter and it angers me.

I am angry that my phone broke.  I am so angry that I do not plan on replacing it any time soon.  Screw that....I don't want to talk to anyone anyway.

So, if you need me, I will be over in the corner, keeping to myself, with no phone.

If She Can Do It, Why Can't I....

This weekend included a vendor fair in which I was selling my hand crafted bows and charms and other fun little items.

One of the other vendors was with Origami Owl.  As a maker of little fun items, naturally I was intrigued.  I went back to her table several times and learned the scoop on the company and its founder and how it worked and a whole bunch of other interesting tidbits.

The one thing that had me was that the founder was a teenage girl.  This girl is now a muli-millionaire at the age of 17.

What. The. Hell....

She is 17.

I am 44.

I have always dreamed about starting my own business.  Not necessarily for the money aspect (although that would be awesome) but for the whole reason of not having to work by anyone else's rules.

I am thinking about joining the Origami Owl team but at the same time I wonder about coming up with my own thing instead of selling someone else's thing.

It gives me so much to think about.

I have been reading so many books and blogs about starting up a business.  I have also been reading up on how to target your dreams and make them into a reality.  

My head is literally swimming with so many thoughts.  It is making me nuts.

I feel it in my heart that if I just find what makes me the happiest, I can truly make it into something successful.

Currently I am just crafting and selling on Etsy....

https://www.etsy.com/shop/Inspiralicious?ref=si_shop

But....there may be something else that would be an even better idea coming.

I can just feel it.

Hell, if she can do it, I can do it.  ;-)

The F-Bomb

I have never been comfortable dropping F-Bombs.  I don't know why.  It is a very strange habit of mine.

Maybe because my grandfather once told me that swearing tends to dumb people down.  For some reason they cannot express what or why they are excited, angry, happy, sad....whatever.....so they swear.

I have no problem uttering "damn it" or "shit".  Hell, I can even swear in several different languages.

But the F-Bomb....

One memory that stands out to me regarding the F-Bomb is the time my grandfather was having open heart surgery.  He was rushed to a hospital about an hour away and I was living in the same town as my grandma so I had to drive her to the hospital.  My mom met us there and we waited together.  It was a long long wait.  My grandma was so distraught.  I was worried.  I think my mom was too.

The surgery lasted for several hours and once he was out of surgery, it was late.  My grandma, mom and I ended up getting a hotel room for the night.

Since the situation was stressful and our nerves were rattled we decided to drink several drinks.  We proceeded to get drunk.

Mind you, three generations sitting in a hotel, tying one on was quite the site itself but when my mom dropped a F-Bomb, I was flabbergasted.

"Mom. you can't say that in front of your mom." 

Then my grandma started in with this...

"Why can't she say fuck?  Seriously, how can such a pleasurable thing be such an offensive word?  I mean if you really want to swear, say "unfuck".  Now there's a word."

I sat in stunned silence.  Not only did my mother drop a F-Bomb in front of her mother, my grandmother was dropping F-Bombs all over the place and also stating that fucking was pleasurable.

Holy Crap!

I looked at my grandma and then my mother and then we busted out in laughter.

Even though I still can't bring myself to drop F-Bombs, it is one of the best memories.

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.