Posted in Blogging, Dreams, funny, humor, kids, Life, motherhood, Musings

8 Solid Hours (is that too much to ask?)

no sleep

I just looked at my watch- it is now 3:45 a.m., and I have been up for fifteen minutes. I finally waved the white flag of surrender, after fighting with sleep ALLLLL night last night. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I value sleep above almost everything else, and normally, sleep and I have a really happy relationship. But every relationship has ups and downs, and last night we were really duking it out.

Here is how my night went:

8:30- I start making noise about getting ready for bed. But we are watching an unusually interesting show on Disney XD, so I am dragging my feet. I get my coffee set up for the morning. I decide against washing my face, since I didn’t wear makeup anyway yesterday, even though I know better (this, more than anything else, is a clear indicator that my happiness levels are dangerously low- I know it sounds insignificant, but washing my face at night is a big deal, and this is a red flag. Must get my life together.)

8:45- On commercial, I let Cam do one sparkler, of the many we have left over from the 4th. While we are outside, someone nearby sets off an illegal firework. I literally yell “The fourth is over, asshole!” into the night air. Realize I am outside playing with sparklers. Feel stupid, but I am so, so tired.

9:00-Make my bed. Crawl into the sanctuary of my covers. Try to stream Phineas and Ferb, one of my top shows to fall asleep to, only to find that season four is no longer available on demand. What the fuck? Find that season three is still ready to roll, so I find one I haven’t seen (not that it matters, because I’ll be asleep in five minutes anyway) and quickly doze off.

9:10- my cat starts scratching on my door. I try to ignore him, but he won’t stop. I yell at the door. He adds meowing to the mix. I huffily throw the covers off of me and jump out of bed, yank the door open and stomp into the living room, opening the front door so he can go out for the night. He stands on the threshold, considering his options. “Get out.” I snarl- I don’t have the patience for this shit. He doesn’t want to go out now. I close the door. He starts crying and scratching again. I open the door and try to set him outside. He runs backwards into the house and glares at me. I glare back. Fine. I’ll just sleep with my bedroom door open so he doesn’t get trapped inside and have an “accident” like he did the other night, but he doesn’t get trapped outside, either, and decide to scratch at my door all night. Fine. That is fine. Just let me sleep.

9:25- my dog, Lucy, wakes me up this time- She is barking like crazy, with a much scarier than normal bark, out into the hallway. This is, like, there’s an intruder, or a wild animal loose in the house kind of bark. I am instantly awake and out of bed. “What?!” I ask her, “What’s in there?” But she just does that weird dog dance, and keeps barking, then runs into my daughter’s room. Luckily, my daughter is in my room with me (or at least it seemed lucky at that moment) because I am terrified to go in there. I sneak my arm in and turn on the light- there is nothing there. I check the backyard, the front yard, and everywhere else. There is nothing there. I go back to bed, but this time I close and lock my bedroom door. The cat can just deal with it.

10:00-Lucy wakes me up barking furiously again. I don’t care anymore if someone is in the house. They can just kill me. I’m going to sleep, period.

10:30- I hear the distinct rustling of the giant cat food bag in my room. I just know Lucy is getting into the goddamned cat food again. I wake up already yelling at her to knock it off. Instead, I find that it is my seven year old, who has decided she would be more comfortable sleeping in the dogs bed, and she is whacking the cat food bag with her leg. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“I just want to lay down here.” She says, “I can hear my videos better.” I look at the dog, laying forlornly on the floor next to her own bed.

“Get your ass in bed, and don’t wake me up again.” I say kindly. I’m back asleep before I remember to tell her to put her stupid Kindle away. My mistake.

1 fucking 30 in the goddamned morning: I am jolted awake by the sound of laughter in my pitch black room. I whirl around, trying to get my bearings, and find my child, pressing her Kindle face down into the mattress so that I can’t see the light coming from it. I can still hear the sound however. She does this in such a smooth, skilled manner that I can’t help but wonder how many times she has practiced this maneuver in the past. The voice of Satan seems to issue forth from my throat-“Give me the Kindle!” I fling it to the floor (only because it has a child proof case, and I know it will simply bounce- I’m mad, but I’m not an idiot) and tell her she must immediately vacate the premises and go sleep in her own bed. I can’t take it. We both know I don’t mean it though- there is possibly an intruder sleeping in there, anyway, or at the very least, a family of raccoons. She starts crying, which means I’ll NEVER get to sleep…so I turn the TV back on. But I make sure it’s  a show she hates, because I’m evil when I’m tired. I fall asleep to the sound of my child wailing at the injustice of it all.

1:45-3:30- Horrible dreams about owing people money, awkward confrontations with friends, trying to pee in a bathroom with a big hole in the door and people trying to get in (which, now that I think about it, that probably worked in my favor- the last thing I needed last night was to wet my own bed at the age of 43), having to look for a job and regretting quitting the one I had, and just generally feeling very stressed out and uprooted. These are what I call “worst case scenario dreams”, and I have them fairly often. It’s always nighttime in these dreams.

3:30-Finally throw the towel in. Realize that a bug of some sort bit me several times, on my fingers and my arm. Curse my life, and all of the cowardly bugs who refuse to bite you when you are awake and can defend yourself.

3:45: Decide I should at least write about it, and make it all worth something. I hope you enjoyed my (hopefully) amusing retelling of my night from hell. And for God’s sake, I hope you slept better than I did! At least I won’t be fully awake for work today. There’s always a silver lining!

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Posted in adventure, Blogging, fun, funny, Life, Musings

Closet Drama Queen

drama

Having cut myself off so efficiently from the Young and Restless world around me for such a long time, I’m going to admit that I may have lost sight a little bit of my true nature.

For the past three years, I have been doing nothing but meetings, recovery, prayer, meditation, self-reflection, step work, trying to eat healthy, exercise, rest, and rejuvenation. The only drama in my life has been the tiny bit I can stir up by myself, which isn’t much. I’ve been living in some kind of idyllic little bubble and didn’t even realize it.

You guys, I let the drama in. I didn’t mean to…I was just sitting here, minding my own business, and it came for me. But I invited it in. I could’ve just said “no, thank you.”, but I didn’t. I said “Hey, what’s all this about?” and I rubbed my hands together like the creep I really am, eyes twinkling, mouth practically watering. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Anyway, needless to say, this has to do with men. That’s right. And what I found out was, it’s possible to get yourself into some pretty deep shit without ever really leaving the safety of your living room. In the past week or so, there has been salacious flirting, keen interest, misunderstandings and hurt feelings. I’ve been on a roller coaster.

Part of me longed desperately to just go back to my normal life. I couldn’t take the headiness of these conversations, and plus, in a practical sense, I was just spending way too much time on the phone.

But then there is that other part of me…and she isn’t right in the head. That part really likes that feeling…like you’re just about to bungee jump, and you’re looking down, hoping the cord holds. That’s where I’ve been living for the past couple of weeks.

And you know, I’ve been so good, for so long, that I thought that part of me had died. Imagine my surprise to find that certain parts of me are still alive and kicking, just waiting for me to uncover them again. All the work I’ve done, all the abstinence from all these funky little parts of myself…one exhilarating hit of that drama, and I am off and running. Whew.

I’m back on the earth today. I woke up this morning feeling almost hungover from too much conversation yesterday, much too much. The routine that I was chafing against yesterday looks pretty appealing right about now. I’m just going to put my head down, get back to work, and…

Wait. Was that my phone?

Posted in Addiction, faith, family, Goals, inner peace, Learning, Life, living, love, Mental Health, mindfulness, parenting, People, recovery, relationships, spirituality

Learning how to Love

anger chinese proverb

Of all the things I have struggled with since I have been clean, practicing loving kindness is highest on the list. I know, I know- I don’t think I come off as someone who has a rough time with something like this. For sure, I know the appropriate way to act, and how to say the right thing, the thing people need to hear, most of the time. But there is a difference between how we intentionally show up in the world and the way we act, react, and even the way we think, when it’s only us alone with the chosen few who live their lives closely entwined with ours.

In other words, sometimes- too much of the time- I am an impatient asshole to my ex, who lives in close quarters with me ( supposedly a win-win for all parties, but in practice, not always the best), to my friends, and worst of all, to my kids. I struggle to be nice. I have a hard time keeping my temper in check. I yell too much. I say things I regret- if not immediately, then eventually. I hurt the people I care the most about, and it’s crazy because, you might recall from some of my earlier posts- this was one of the main reasons I wanted to get clean in the first place. I wanted to stop hurting people, especially the people I loved.

Well, here’s a news flash: You Don’t Get Better Over Night. Look, I am nowhere near as bad as I used to be, but I am also not the same person I used to be. The person I am now has a different tolerance for pain- because believe me, if I am hurting people with my behavior, I am suffering too. As a matter of fact, it has come to my attention that it’s possible I might beat myself up much harder than I do anyone else. But my truth remains the same- these are people I love, I want to treat them that way. Period. Without fail. And I could do better…in my head, I can almost always see where I went wrong, when I should have walked away, where I could have taken a breath, how I could have chosen to say nothing. Why? I ask myself all the time, Why couldn’t you have done better?

I think I know at least part of the answer- Anger has been a huge defensive tool for me for so much of my life. Anger kept me safe, kept people at arms length, kept questions from being asked that I didn’t know how to answer. When you are a volatile person, people tread lightly around you. Walk on eggshells, even. When being vulnerable is the thing you most fear, anger is a heady drug.

And there is the whole matter of habit- all those pathways burned into my brain, all the things that I let make me angry for all those hundreds or thousands of days in a row. Any switch I had lead to anger, because it was safer. Safer than being unsure, safer than being hurt, safer than being afraid. Anger is big, powerful, and much easier for me to deal with than the “softer” options, such as crying or, I don’t know, admitting that I messed up, that I am in deep trouble, that I need help.

But that was me BEFORE. And this is me NOW. And the woman I am today cannot tolerate the way it feels to behave this way. This morning, when I prayed my daily prayer, I asked sincerely for help- “Look God, I am serious, I NEED YOU to help me with this. Please, please, pretty please. I can’t do this on my own.” And then I said the rest of the stuff I said, and moved on to the meditation practice part of my morning. I had to smile when the theme of the day was “loving kindness”. My God does not mess around.

I have been deliberate with my words and actions all day today, trying to be gentle with myself, because I am growing, and because I am still starting out on the path to who I want to be, and because I just deserve it. And I have been gentle with others, because it has been easy to- it’s when things get rough, or I am tired, or overwhelmed, when it gets hard.

But I believe that when we truly want to change, we begin to change. And that when we sincerely ask God for help (again, feel free to exchange the word God for whatever word you feel comfortable with), help comes. We must do the footwork. We can’t just say “help me!” and then keep going on like we always have. You show up, and the benevolent forces of the Universe show up with you.

I am trying so hard to be someone who knows how to love other people in a way that is beautiful, rather than damaging, and I know it won’t happen over night. But I also know that it has to start somewhere. Why not here?

Posted in Addiction, family, friendship, Goals, inner peace, kids, Learning, Life, People, random

Some Days Are For Wising Up

Image

 

I’m just going to come out and say it- yesterday was tough. The previous two days, Saturday and Sunday, were a blissed out, low frequency hum, slow and indulgent. All about naps and walks and peace and quiet. Then, Sunday evening, all hell broke loose…oh, brother, my inability to be less than honest will not allow me to stick by those words. The truth is, two things happened: 1) my older daughter went behind my back and obtained a Chihuahua with issues off of Craigslist- after months of arguing, I might add, because I could not imagine yet another pet underfoot, here. Especially a neurotic, yapping, nervous wreck of an animal like a Chihuahua. I mean, step on Lucy, my Black Lab, and you move on with life; step on a Chihuahua, you’re a murderer. Then, Camryn came home. I was already kind of freaked out about the new dog (her name is Honey Bee, by the way), now imagine the sound of a very excited three year old hyped up on junk food and just released from a car after driving for three hours. Imagine that, mingled with a nervous puppy, a very excited lab who thinks she is the same size as the Chihuahua, an irritable teenager, an upset mom, and a very angry, overweight house cat. Yeah.

So, we went from the slow, indulgent, low frequency hum to a discordant death-metal riff screaming through really good amps in like an hour. I’d hoped that the next day (yesterday) would be better. But instead, I woke up to about three minutes of privacy. Both of my kids were up and about. All of the animals were running around. I didn’t get to meditate, I wrote something half assed, I never went for my morning walk. This was not a good way for my day to start.  Then I remembered that my daughter had an appointment with her probation officer (don’t ask), and my little one wasn’t feeling great…So, off we all went, to the courthouse, at seven a.m.

I was in a less than sparkly mood. I was rude to the lady at Juvenile Probation, to the point that she actually asked me if I was sick! I snapped at my daughter’s intolerance of her little sister, then I snapped at my little daughter for being a pest. On the way home, I bought donuts, thinking that would somehow make things better…it didn’t. Crappy food is like putting a used band-aid over a new cut- a recipe for disaster. 

Things didn’t get better from there…the poor little dog my kid brought home had been weaned early from her puppies (she, at ten months, is still a pup herself) and her teats were terribly engorged. By yesterday, they were much worse. I had already called in at work because my little one was feeling sick, so I took the puppy down to my vet. The bottom line? Honey Bee needs surgery this Thursday, period. So that’s what we are going to do.

The rest of the day just carried on in the same fashion. Lots of noise, lots of snapping at each other, even meanness coming out that had been absent for so long. I felt full of shame at my impatience and inability to take any of this in stride. Not only was I not happy, I couldn’t even fake like I was. It felt really, really bad. By 6:30 in the evening, I was so wiped out, my three year old and I lay down to watch cartoons, and both of us just passed out.

This morning, I woke up feeling nervous and angry about the previous day. I have worked so hard to get to a spot where I am okay, that I am afraid of losing it. The truth is, if I have to be angry, fearful AND clean…I wasn’t sure I could do it. Then, while I was trying to figure out how to write about all of this, this morning, a pattern emerged. And it hit me: Yesterday hadn’t been about me helping me. It had been about me being there for others-others who really needed me. 

Think about it- This little dog, she needed a loving home, and people who could give her the love and help she needed. Without us, she would have gone to the pound, and very likely been put to sleep. As a matter of fact, the lady at my vets office made a point of telling us “You have saved this dog.” And my older daughter, who is asleep right now, cuddled up with her new pet, maybe she needs this little girl, more than I realized. Also, I told her she has GOT to get a job now, if she wants to keep her dog, because I simply cannot afford to care for another pet. My daughter is painfully shy, but she pushed through that yesterday to go check back on an application she put in at a restaurant down the street. The look of pride on her face when she came outside, just because she had overcome her anxiety to accomplish something, was priceless. 

The moral here is this: Yes, it is important that I take care of me- every day, I know what to do to make sure I am okay. It is my job to find a way to squeeze that stuff in with whatever time I have. But not every day is about me taking care of me. Perhaps the Universe has decided I am well enough now to start giving back a little of the love it has shown me. My job is to do this as graciously as possible. Yesterday, I fell a little bit short. I forgive me. Today, I understand- challenge accepted. I am a work in progress, for sure. But I know I am up to the task of sharing some of what I have with whoever needs it. I know I am.

Now, it is time for my walk. I don’t want to take any chances.