OM and stuff

My facebook status recently said that I was trying to achieve more balance in my life.  It’s something that Cliff and I talked a lot about in my last session.

What does that mean?  In a counseling workshop in November I was told to make a pie chart of my time and this is when I discovered I spend massive amounts of time either thinking about sex or worrying about money.  When I think of balance, a pie chart of my time always pops up in my head and I hear George W. Bush’s dumb ass Texas twang shouting “make the pie higher, make the pie higher!”

But I think I need to let that visual go.   Just kinda breathe, take a step back, and look at my life.  What do I want?  Are my actions congruent with what I say I want?  Then I answer myself, terrified, “I don’t know what I want!!”  The whole subject just seems so overwhelming.  

But there are things I know. I want to be able to pay my bills.  Ok, so my actions have to reflect that. Lately I’ve been using what Cliff calls my intuitive banking system, or in other words I just “feel” as if there is some money in the bank, without actually knowing shit about what’s there.  That is not congruent with financial stability.  Neither is my non-existent job hunt.  So today I checked my bank account and I ordered my Praxis scores, since I have still not been able to locate my copy.  Woo-hoo! I want to finish this job. So today I did a shit load of work.  I want to be a decent parent.  I called Jade last night and I went to her program today.  She won the Highest Average Award in three different subject areas – English, spelling, and reading. Obviously my child!  No math and science awards in our crib!  LOL.  

That’s all the wants I KNOW of.  The rest are not at all clear to me. I want my freedom, but I want a relationship.  I want a certain person to love me, but I don’t want to even talk to him.  See?  Too complicated.  So I just want to step back away from men period and focus on me, on my job and my family, my apartment and my friends.  It is sad to me because I am in love… but as wordboner so eloquently put it today, “There’s no beauty without makeup and there’s no love without pain.”  

I really give a lot to people.   I’m open, I’m honest, and I will listen to anything you tell me without judgment and I’ll never tell your secrets.  It’s not always easy to be honest with people.  Sometimes it hurts them but more often times it hurts ME to tell the truth – about myself and my feelings, etc.  Maybe it’s embarrassing, or maybe I feel guilty for feeling the way I do, or for owning up to something.  But, though I have a lot of faults, I won’t lie to you.  My dad always said to me from the time I was a little girl, “There are three kinds of people I hate, the first is a thief and the next two are liars.”  What he meant by that is that he cannot stand dishonest people that much.  Well, from an early age I always knew lying and stealing are not only wrong, but they’re a great way to get people to hate you and cut you out of their lives.   So yeah, I’ve stolen from Wal-Mart and crap ass corporations like that, but I have never stolen from a person and I do not lie.  

I guess I expect too much of some people in return, but to me intentions are irrelevant when it comes to honesty.  I don’t care if you meant well, I don’t like to be lied to.  Not only do I not like it, it also hurts me.  So there’s no love without pain, huh?   Well then fuck love.  I can put it down like that. (snaps fingers)  And one day I hope I do find an honest man, one who proves that combination of words is not an oxymoron.  Someone who doesn’t feel the need to hide me or let me be a secret.  Someone who wants pictures of us together.  Someone who would never lie to his family about seeing me.   Someone who is trustworthy and honest and never has to lie and cover up who he is talking to.   Someone who loves me back and can even say it.  Someone who helps me feel pretty instead of ugly and smart instead of stupid.

And I really have decided that is not to much to ask of a human being, that is really not too much to ask. And I am worth that.  So I put a sign on my wall that I can read every morning and it says, “I AM WORTHY OF LOVE”.  It makes me feel good to see it, because I believe it.  The more I look at it, the more I say that to myself, the truer it becomes.  And the sign nicely compliments the one now hanging over my doorway as I exit the apartment.  It says “ARE YOU SURE?” – that’s Cliff’s (or Zen Master C I like to call him in my mind when he says these things) idea.  It means that with every step outside that apartment, with every decision, I should take a moment to pause and ask myself if I’m sure I’m doing something that will strengthen me as a person and promote my spiritual growth.  

So that’s it for now yall. If you want, please share with me something that you do, some mantra you repeat, that gets you through hard times. Maybe it’s “this too shall pass” or something. In my field we’d call them positive affirmations. You know, like Al Franken’s old SNL character’s ending statements. People in AA use them all the time – “One day at a time! Easy does it! Keep coming back!” As silly and corny as that may seem, I have really seen them work for a lot of people. If there are any that help you out, I’d like to hear about them.

Protected: A night at the Hi-Tone you barely remember…

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OUT WITH IT, BITCH.

So, okay, I haven’t blogged in forever and now that I am, I’m totally pissed.  I hate that’s the way it’s gotta be.

But last night there was a crawfish boil at Eric Gregory’s in Louisville.  I like Eric’s dad, but I have a very low opinion of Eric himself, and would never consider going to his house.  To my knowledge, I do not have a single friend who would go there.

I don’t have many Louisville friends at all.  I can count them on one hand.  And when you remove the men in that statement, you’re down to a couple of fingers MAXIMUM.

But some girl who called herself my friend went and told Ken’s ex-girlfriend a bunch of crap.  How would she know a bunch of crap?  Or even a little crap?  Apparently it’s because she’s friends with me, but uh, no.  I know not.  So it must be the blog, right?  I don’t give out the link, and there are only a dozen of you who can see it on facebook.  I double checked the trusted list and I would bet my life that it’s none of you.  But back before this blog died for several months, I had the link on myspace.  So it’s possible someone kept up with it.

So out with it, you lurking bitch.  If there’s someone who reads this blog and used information in it to hurt some girl’s feelings at a Louisville party, I want to know who exactly you are.  If you want to continue getting info via the blog and spreading it around Louisville, that is FINE.  Just say, “I read that whore’s blog.”  Hell, give ‘em the link.  Just don’t act like we’re buddies, that’s pretty pathetic.

I don’t expect you to answer, so here’s the deal.  I will find out who you are.  It’s gonna happen one of two ways.  Either you will tell me who you are, in which case I’ll tell you that was shitty – but that can all be done in private.  OR I can find out through other means and then I’m going to publish your name, picture, stats, everything in this blog for all of us to verbally berate you until I’m done letting off steam.  Prepare for a detailed analysis of your physical features and mental acuity.  It will be brutal, so I hope you can handle it.

So it’s your call, Ms. Gossip.  Just hope you grow a clit and come clean before I find out your name.

And don’t think I can’t.  I just sent one myspace message and found out who 6 people at that party were, and also about some unrelated drama that went down.  It’s LOUISVILLE, you can’t hide shit.

Don’t look a gift crush in the mouth

Cliff makes me feel more sane.  He really gets me.  I think that’s how you should feel about your therapist.  My shrink talks about my mother too much, but Cliff lets me laugh more.

I have a challenge for yall!  Well, it’s not my challenge, but I found it and thought my friends would be pretty awesome at it.

Here’s the pitch.  “Everyone has a story.  Can you tell yours in six words?”  Go to the Six-Word Memoir site and after you post yours, post it here so we can all see!  I haven’t done mine yet, but I will tonight.  I kinda feel my last blog title was a good six-word memoir, but I want to play around with something different tonight.

Can’t wait to hear what yall come up with!

Protected: Home wasn’t built in a day

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Wordle

This is hella cool.  Click it!:  

That was just my first wordle.  I’m gonna wordle my soul at some point.  Won’t that be rad?  Try it with me.  Here’s a wordle of this here blog:

I fucking love that one, you have to click it.  See, the assignment on Soul Pancake was to wordle your soul, and I just figure how much more accurate of a depiction of my soul can you get, other than this soul-baring public diary, right?  The one above was the first random one and I kept it automatically, but here is another experiments, same material:

I like the way some words went together really nicely (e.g. “nice fuck” “horrible couple” etc.) in the one above.

And one last one:

Tomorrow is my first night in my apartment yall!!  WOOT!

Muah,

B

 

 

Medicated, for your protection

So this weekend was a little out of control and the nights and days all blended together.  I didn’t know from day to day whether I had already taken my meds, so I wouldn’t.  I just didn’t want to wind up taking too much.  This included my birth control, so I started my period too.  Double whammy – by Sunday afternoon I was a wreck.

Yesterday I realized I hadn’t taken my meds, so I started back on them.  I added the pill my shrink said would strengthen the effect of my antidepressant and I got back on my mood regulator too.  Today, MUCH MUCH BETTER.

So everything made me so upset and I wound up confusing a friend, spazzing out on him.  That’s in addition to anything I said on this blog.  Honestly, I’m not going to go back and read it right now.  I’m just sorry any of you had to “see” me off my meds because it’s not pretty!!

Thanks for all your supportive comments.  I do know I’m doing the right thing for the kids.  Your comments are also emailed to me, so I did read all of them.  And DUDE, I am sorry if I ever implied that church would turn you into a redneck.  I know I did seem to say that and I also know that is not true.  So, sorry.

Anyway, thanks for everything.  I do know I’m doing the right thing right now.  Everyone will see that soon, when the kids are much happier and finances are straight and everyone is less tense and on eggshells all the time.

Whew!  Manic Deppressive flare-up is now under control!  I’m lucky to have such great friends who put up with my shit.

i guess I’m not a solopsist after all…

That is, if Iris Murdoch’s definition is correct and “love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.”

I was happy to get Rie’s comment on my last blog because, even though I know I have the most amazing friends in the world, it’s still nice to hear it sometimes.  I must admit to yall that the last blog was a pretty big overreaction.  I know, I know, that is SO unlike me to overreact, I know you are shocked.  It’s just that YALL, I do NOT sit up at night by a phone waiting on a boy to call me.  I don’t do that!  That isn’t me!!  Even in high school, I may have cried over a boy, I have definitely been stood up, but I never just sat by a phone.  I got my ass out, probably with another boy even if I didn’t really want to.  I’d just have a badass time out of spite.  So I was more angry with myself than anything.  That was on top of:

* Today is Nate’s birthday and I always wake him up by putting butter on his little nose.  That’s just a family tradition, and this is the first year I wasn’t there to do it.

* Jade is terribly sick.  She’s running a fever, she has an awful cough, and I’m not there to check on or take care of her.

* My mother bought them bibles and is going to start taking them to church.  The plus to this is that I can counteract any stupid shit they read in that stupid book, and so can my dad, and they are going to First Methodist, so it’s not like a baptist church or anything.  Jade will get to wear her pretty dresses and they’ll both learn songs, and they don’t care about the rest anyway. 

* I skipped a couple days worth of birth control pills on accident (when you can’t get pregnant, it’s easy to forget) and started my period.  So I’m letting it run its course, and my shrink says that for someone with my diagnosis, this is an especially difficult and emotional time.

* Jeremy and I argued, and we made up but he doesn’t want to see or talk to me right now because it’s too hard for him.

* It feels shitty to be judged, even though I KNOW people are going to do it.

As for my kids, I want to say something very important.  My children are better off living with my parents right now.  I know this.  Jeremy cannot take care of them on his own, neither of us can financially do that, and I personally am not the best person to be with right now.  It takes a lot to say that and love and miss them as much as I do.  It takes a lot to know that people are going to judge me, that people in Louisville are going to talk trash about me, feel sorry for my kids.  That feels horrible, but not so horrible that I will stop doing what I know is the best thing for my kids.  I told my best friend a couple weeks ago, “It’s either this – let me get my own place, let me get away and be alone and find myself and figure some shit out and get on my feet, or… someone can check my ass in to St. Francis because I need a goddamn break.”  I was reassured this past Thursday when Dr. C said, “Would these people rather you got institutionalized?  Or is an apartment better?” I was like “See, that’s what I said!!”

This notion that kids are best living with their biological mother is so fucking sexist and American.  I don’t see all these single dads catching shit because they don’t have primary custody of their children.  I will be a very active person in my kids’ lives.  I don’t see anyone telling Tyler to get his shit together for his daughter.  Because he sees her and has something to do with her, and so it’s his ex-wife’s job to take care of her, everyone expects that.  In many countries the “it takes a village” saying is more literal, and I feel very lucky that there are people in my children’s lives who are capable and willing to give them a better childhood than I can right now.  The way I see it is they can remember their mother as this miserable creature who always seemed to hate being at home, who was always trying to go out with her friends or slip something in her drink at dinner, always on the phone or computer or in a book, escaping this life she seemed to hate with their father, being tense and cranky all the time, or they can remember their mother as this weird eccentric hippy with no tv whose apartment smelled like patchouli, who always walked them to the zoo every time they’d visit and who would buy them feminist magazines and tell them not to listen to those bozos at church.  Who would let them bring a friend in the summers to come stay in Memphis, who’d save up all year to take them to Six Flags and who always seemed happy even though she didn’t have any money or a man.

So I don’t know if this friend reads my blog or not, and I don’t want to blog ABOUT her, I don’t think she’d like that.  This is really not about her, but it is her comment that set me off and this is my diary, so I’m going to briefly say something about it. 

I know last summer you seemed to think that this blog, me writing all this personal shit in it, gave you the right to have opinions.  You are correct, you have every right to your opinion.  The thing is, I honestly (and please don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s the truth), I honestly don’t give a flying fuck about your opinion.  I think your hostility about my decisions regarding my children says much more about you and your issues than it ever will about me.  All the same, I don’t want to hear your shit.  That’s why the very first night I have spent going out as a “single” woman, I didn’t talk about my marriage, my divorce, the boy I’m in love with, my new apartment – I didn’t talk about any of it!!  Because I did NOT want to solicit your opinion.  It absolutely sucks that I had to hear it anyway.  Deciding to tell me “no, no, don’t ‘okay’ me, you listen to me, you need to get your shit together for your kids,” at 5 am at a goddamn disco after I’ve been drinking for nine hours is just beyond inappropriate.  I didn’t say anything at the time, because I just wanted you to shut up, but the more I think about it, the more righteously indignant I get.  I told a friend about the entire thing and he was blown away, “wow,” he said, “if I had a friend who would talk to me that way, I would just like, get them the fuck out of my life.”  I DON’T WANT TO DO THAT, I LIKE YOU, I like hanging out!!  But you have GOT to learn to keep that shit to yourself.  I don’t know what your deal is with kids, whether it’s your religion or what.  I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks I’m a shitty mother, GUESS WHAT, I am a shitty mother and that’s why I know my kids are better off not living with me right now.  As a matter of fact, having the guts to admit that and not be selfish in wanting them with me anyway is exactly what makes me a better mother (better than shitty, not better than a specific person). 

It’s funny that I consult two professionals, my family who knows and loves my kids, my husband, my friends, and everyone is completely understanding and supportive, and yet some people think they know better! 

I have avoided talking about my kids on this blog for that reason, among others, but no more.  If I want to talk about something on here, I will.  I sometimes question whether I should keep this blog, whether I should delete it, how much info is too much, is this juvenile, etc.  But then I’ll have someone text me and tell me they have been in a similar situation (thank you, I promise I will text you back sometime, it was just a horrible time when you got up with me), I have a friend in Spain who is going through the same thing with a long distance love and a husband at home and she relies on me.  I have a facebook friend who went out of his way to talk to me and tell me his own (similar) story.  I have several, several people who have told me that my blog “speaks” to them.  Then when I don’t blog, Marie nudges me and tells me to get on it!  So I feel this is therapeutic, it helps me find support, work shit out with myself, and I won’t stop doing it just because I’m worried you will feel you have a license to tell me what to do with my life.  When I say “you” I mean any of you who might feel the urge to give me your unsolicited opinion of what my life should look like.

And it’s like this, really.  And PLEASE don’t take this as a threat because I do NOT want this, I don’t want to even think this, but I am terribly afraid that someone will catch me on the wrong night, at the wrong time, and will say something about my kids, criticizing me and telling me what to do, and I won’t react so calmly.  Because as much as I HATE that I feel this way, I really do believe if someone talks to me the way I got talked to Saturday night I will take my hand and put it across his/her face so fast I won’t be able to stop myself.  I can just feel that Betheden hillbilly wanting to bust out of me and say, “Talk about my kids one more time and we’ll just give this crowd a good ole bar brawl to watch, because I will punch you right in the mouth if you say one more word about it.”  And really, I have too much aggression to be fucking with me like that right now.  So if you have something to say, the internet might be your best bet, rather than approach me drunk.  I don’t have any desire in this world for things to get out of control, but when you talk to drunk people like that, that’s what tends to happen.

I know yall are my livelihood, my rocks, my support, my crutches… I know you love me and I know you’re here for me.  I know most of you know this without me saying it, but I’ll say it anyway.  I may look like I’m out having the time of my life, getting exactly what I want and loving it.  I assure you, I cry myself to sleep at night, I am torn apart by what is happening.  Even a much desired divorce is hard, it’s a death of a part of me and a part of my life – a part that, while bad lately, was not always so.  I am losing one of my best friends, someone I rely on for so much, my children I love, and I am living on my own for the first time in my entire life.  It is exciting, but it is terrifying and lonely and I feel scared and guilty.  I just know it’s the right thing.  So if you have a different opinion, that’s fine.  But if you can’t help but say hurtful or mean things to me, you need to either learn how to bite your tongue or stay the fuck away from me.

Moving in, moving on

I have been meaning to blog, but you know how crazy shit has been around here.

I will know tomorrow where I am getting a place.  I’m super mutherfucking excited about it, especially since I wiped out World Market this weekend.  The failing economy = bargains for consumer whores.  I mean it was like the most fabulous yardsale.  Speaking of yardsales, I wish some of you ambitious peeps would join me to bargain hunt the first Saturday of April.  Think about it.

I am taking so little with me.  I mean, I want to.  I’m serious about no tv.  I’m taking a 13 inch and putting it in the closet.  Jackie is giving me a bed though and WOOOOOOOT am I so grateful.  That was one of the three things I can think of that I need.  So, one down.  The other two are rugs and a shower curtain.  I found a shower curtain I like at Target and I have a rug for the bathroom, which is most important.  I don’t know what I’ll do about the rest, just be rugless for a while I guess.  No biggie.  I love those hardwood floors.

I don’t have a coffee table, but that can be one of the items I shop for at the yardsales.

If I have extended an invitation for you to stay with me, I really did mean that.   I worry about being lonely, so weekend guests will be nice.  Only thing is you will likely eat like I will – sparingly – or you will need to bring food money.  I’ll try to cook at supper (TRY), but it’s sammiches and cold cereal for other meals.  Also, I appreciate alcohol.  I’d rather drink than eat lately, and I’m gonna be broke.  So while I want you to come, for REAL, know that I will be the shittiest hostess until I can (please Goddess, please) get on with Memphis City and make some more money.

So there ya go, there’s an update.  Emotional update:

You know things are always a roller coaster with me.  One minute you’re worried I’ll off myself, the next it seems like I’m having the time of my life.  LET ME ASSURE YOU I AM NOT.  I had a blast with my friends last night, no doubt.  But I am going through a divorce.  I am moving.  I am quitting a job with no future plans, no solid lead on anything, and picking up financial responsibility like I’ve never known.  I want to say so much about this, there are so many things I would like to say to a couple people, but it is so overwhelming for me right now that I’m getting all choked up and starting to cry which just PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF BECAUSE I DON’T FUCKING DESERVE TO CRY RIGHT NOW, so I’m just going to make a list about it:

• I will put my shit aside, even as fucked up and crazy as it is, and I will be there for you, because that is the kind of friend I am.  I just had an argument with Jeremy tonight, it was pretty sad, and a friend had messaged me saying she really needed someone to talk to.  And I got my shit together and talked to her, because that’s the kind of friend I am.  Amanda had some fucked up shit happen last week, and I still managed to email her about it.  I make comments on your blogs, even when I get kicked out of my fucking house and I don’t feel like laughing or being funny, I suck it up and do it because that is the kind of friend I am.  Therefore,
• I feel like I DESERVE friends like that.  And if you are reading this, chances are you are one of them.  The person/people I am talking to are probably not going to read this anyway.
• It is so hard to watch someone you love hurt.
• It is so hard, it is so MUTHERFUCKING HARD to kiss my son and my daughter goodbye every afternoon.  It is so hard.
• Just because I do not believe they are best with me right now does NOT mean I don’t want them to be.
• If I want your opinion about that, I will fucking ask so shut the fuck up, close this window, go read a fucking book, but this blog is not written for ANY OF YOU, IT IS WRITTEN FOR ME, and I expect enough respect right now that you bite your tongue because I don’t want to talk about it.
• Sometimes, like TONIGHT, I need a fucking friend too, and I was really happy to be there for my friend tonight, but I needed someone to be there for me.  It was a really fucking hard night, but you wouldn’t know that would you?  Because you are too busy being wrapped up in your own shit to check on me.
• And I always do for you!!  I stood outside a bar last night, missing time with my friends, to listen to you and support you when you had had a hard conversation, when you were feeling down.
• I think it SUCKED that I had to talk to someone else tonight when I did not want to open up to him about Jeremy, about how I was feeling.

Vote for Change

So I had a talk with my parents.  There’s not a lot to say.  It went okay.  They think I’m going crazy, want to make sure I’m on my medication and whatnot.  Well, I haven’t filled my mood regulator because I was waiting to get paid, and by then I had lost the prescription.  Mom knew where it was so I’ll fill it tomorrow.  The shrink says it’ll change my life.  We’ll see.  It’s weird to introduce it at the same time as all these other changes – how will I know what the catalyst for a better life really was? The drug?   The divorce?  The new job?  The new place?

Speaking of new place, I am moving out over spring break.  They are giving me some of my furniture, which was a happy surprise.  I have a lot of people searching their attics too, so I should have plenty.  My mom was talking about which tv I wanted and I told her I did not want a tv in my house.  She looked at me like I was out of my fucking mind.  I said that was one thing that drove me crazy about home – everyone always wants to cut that box on and I hate it and can’t take it anymore.  Before long she had persuaded me to take a tv for when the kids stay with me.  I figure it would be nice to have one in case they want to have a palet party and watch movies.  I like doing that with them.  But I’m going to keep the tv in a closet for the rest of the time, I don’t want it being part of the decor or anything.

I rode around and looked at rentals today.  I have my search narrowed down to three, but I really think I’m leaning toward a particular one.  That’s impressive searching if I do say so myself.  I was really strategic and organized about it.  I have a google map of all the ones I wanted to go to, and today I saw almost all of them.  I’m stoked about Google Maps, oh praise google!!

View Larger Map
Check it out if you’re thinking of moving up here.  It’s totally affordable, especially compared to DeSoto County, jeesh.

I’m scared because I know I’m about to get lonely.  I do hope yall will all come visit me.  Though I will have so little room, it’s ridiculous.  I’d still like it, and I’ve got an air mattress and all.

I put in my resignation today, so June 5th will be my last day with DCS.  I’m trying to get on in Memphis City, but if that doesn’t work I can always do Youth Villages or something and then there’s always the Malco.  I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do, it’s just NOT going to be what I’ve always done.