Updating...

I'm still here.

Still hanging in there.

But...

Not as depressed... Yeah, scary right? Been a long ass time since I've not written about depression, depressing thoughts, oh-my-God/oh-woe-is-me shit.

I'm actually feeling pretty good on the regular now. And it's not due to medication either because it's rare that I remember to take it. I dunno. Maybe God shined His benevolent light on me. Maybe I'm too busy with other activities to even become depressed. Maybe, just maybe, I just got sick and tired of it and said No More.

Let's go with that last one.

I'm on a healing road to wellness. I'm gonna try and drop some weight for real and get out some aggression at the YMCA. I'm back in school and I'm really enjoying my classes. I decided to double major in History and Psychology and I have a renewed interest in my classes. I'm not going to school for my job, I'm going to school for ME. The fact that it'll likely help get me promoted on the job is just an afterthought. I'm obsessed with my grades and thus far I've been maintaining a *drumroll* 4.0 GPA.

The girls are happy and healthy and spoiled fucking rotten. Jaalyn has gotten straight As on every single report card that's come home and is sailing right along into the 3rd grade this August. She's a dork like her mother and has requested that I purchase her third grade textbooks on Ebay so she can study them over the summer and be ahead when she goes back to school.

Trinity will be 3 this coming Sunday. Unfuckingbelievable. Time flies.

I've gone on a... um.. how to put this? Well, I've gone on a sex strike. No more sex with married men, period. No more convenience sex. I really just got fed up with getting short changed. I deserve better. Those dude's wives deserve better. Not every man out here is a lying, cheating sack of shit. It's just that all the dudes I ever come into contact with are lying, cheating sacks of shit. Some day, one day I'll meet my guy. Hell, I may even meet my gal. I'll probably write more about this another time. Right now I just can't get my words together to describe the hows and whys of why I did what I did. All I can say is that I've never felt better about any decision I've made recently than I did that one.

I have really decided to try and focus a little bit more on me. The girls take most of my energies and so does my dad. But I've been trying to take time out each month to do things that I alone enjoy. Tours with the history museum, visiting other museums, bookshops, festivals, etc. I'm going to try and mingle more not with the intention of finding a mate, but simply to enjoy other people's company and learn more. There's a vast world out there for me to explore and so far all I've discovered is a sliver. So my interest in other things has overshadowed that awful depressing feeling I had. I still have some bad days but they are far less frequent than before. I still have a lot of personal issues to work out, but things will fall into place in time.

My mom is still bat shit crazy, still annoying as fuck, still doing her best to keep my spirits low and keep me under her thumb. I turn a deaf ear to her, write in my journal in my purse and keep it moving. I will not let her get me down. It's a crabs in a barrel thing with her I think. Then again maybe she's just a mean hateful woman that's become bitter in her not quite old age.

My dad still worries me. He lives with me full time now and yeah I do feel cramped and smothered sometimes but I feel it's for the best. Deep in his heart I think he thinks so too. He's come to rely on me to provide happiness for him and I just cannot do that. He's depressed, I was depressed you can imagine what kind of household this was. But... I've gotten him a membership to the local YMCA as well so hopefully he'll take advantage of it and maybe even meet a nice lady there. He needs to feel loved and appreciated just like any other person and he needs someone to kick him in the ass and get him back on the road to happiness. I'm just not that person and it took a lot for me to realize that.

But all in all, things are lookin' up.

Just taking it day-by-beautiful-day.

Repetition...

I am honestly sick and tired of writing about depression. I feel that there's nothing more that I could possibly write about it. I wish it would go away but it never does. At least, it doesn't go away for very long before something triggers its inevitable return.

If I'm not depressed about money (and it's usually money), then I'm depressed about my weight. If not my weight, then life in general. If not life in general, it's back to money issues. Ugh, so many fucking money issues. Always. I work to live, live to work and it's like there is nothing in between except this irritating factor called consciousness.

I hate money. I hate not having it. I even hate having it because I never have enough of it to do the things I need to do. And I don't want to do extravagant things. I just want to pay my fucking bills. I don't want to live above my means, I just want to live period. In this economy I am extremely thankful for my job. I'm lucky and blessed and I know it. But damn damn damn it's still fucking hard to make ends meet. I give and I give and I swear I can't give anymore. Morning, noon and night I sit and worry and fret. The worry causes me to eat, which causes me to gain weight, which further sinks me into the abyss of depression and self loathing.

I'm sick of it all. I'm at the point (again) where no mom should ever tread. The point where you really give serious thought to giving up your kids to someone else in hopes that they can do a better job than you can in providing for them. I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm so tired of weeping, waking with sore and swollen eyes and telling everyone "Oh it's just allergies." Bullshit. I'm knocking my head against a brick wall trying my damnedest to find a way around it, under it, over it, ANYWHERE but where I am now.

I just don't know what else I can do.

And then I think of people like the Spohrs and GB and I look at my kids and wonder how blessed I am, that I shouldn't complain, I shouldn't be ungrateful, that I'd give up a week, month, year of my life if it meant those two families could have that much more time with their precious babies. I look at my two and think that I have to do this, I have no choice, they deserve a mom that can do the best that she can to better their lives.

But sometimes I feel I just can't do it. I feel helpless and hopeless. Always. No amount of Prozac takes away the feeling. And truthfully, something that I'll admit here and nowhere else... I'm developing a habit with the pills. Oh not the prozac, that does nothing really. But combined with percocet, oxycontin, hydrocodone, codeine, anything else it numbs me so that I can't really focus on my problems. It gives me dreamless sleep and peace of mind. I don't overdose, up my dose, combine or anything like that. If I feel that one drug loses it's effect I'll go off it for a week, two and try something different afterwards. Guess it's no worse than people that smoke weed to put themselves in another place and forget their problems. I could never understand why people got high.

Now I do. And I hate that I understand so fucking well.

Humbled...

I was all set to write about my sorrows. Bitch about my weight, the ills of life, woe is me...

And then...

I read this...

Which led me to this...

After which I read this, this, and this...

And by the time I sat down and viewed this I was in tears...

Nothing matters anymore. All the shit I would've complained about and whined about; all the injustices and things weighing heavy on my heart... none of it matters. My heart could explode for all the sadness I feel for these two families.

I sat and I stared at my two beautiful blessings and thought of how crushed I would be if... if... if the unthinkable happened. Never to stroke their hair again, breathe in their lovely scents, hear their laughter, feel their hugs.

My God.

I Resolve...

Doesn't the whole idea of making resolutions for the new year just suck? It's like some sadistic form of setting yourself up in advance for failure and disappointment for the next 365 days.

Resolution #1: Be more positive

Yeah, so, um... 2008 wasn't exactly the year of sunshine and rainbows for me. My overall attitude stunk and I hated that. My friends hated it. My mother hated it (but I didn't and still don't care). I used to be the one with the positive outlook. Actually, I still am when it comes to other people. For my own situations it's been straight pessimism and that should stop. I have always treated others better than myself.

It's time for fair treatment. I can and will be more optimistic, more positive but I absolutely refuse to be fucking chipper.

Resolution #2: Be Patient

Again, normally I am patient. Times of stress bring out the absolute worst in me. The kids wear on my already frayed nerves and I morph into a shrieking demon of terror. Even as the words spew from my lips I'm shocked at my own tone of voice. Every parent has days like that, I know. But my days are becoming more frequent.

Patience also isn't my strong suit when setting/achieving goals either. I want things done right now. I do not want to wait. I do not want others to "help" me. I want what I want when I want it right. NOW.

Case in point: I'd like a companion, male or female, in my life. Now. But it's just not happening. And upon reflection... that's most likely a good thing.

Resolution #3: Humor

My mother once remarked that the most unusual things seem to happen only to me and she sardonically suggested I write a book about it. Well, she's right (please don't tell her I said so because I will never hear the end of it). The thing is instead of taking the negative approach to it, I ought to highlight the humor of the situation the way I've normally done in the past.

Exhibit A: Disasterous holidays are a habit for me. Dinners I prepare for holiday meals are no exception. Let the record show that under normal circumstances I am a good cook. However, three year or so ago on Thanksgiving day disaster struck. Water would not flow to the kitchen sink (for the life of me I can't remember what happened to cause that), so all water for boiling potatoes, washing hands, dishes, meats, etc had to come from the bathroom sink or tub; the ceiling in the kitchen just to the right of the sink exploded from a water leak that I'd been complaining about to maintenance for about three months but they refused to admit was there despite this growing bubble in my kitchen ceiling. So, heh, I guess that is what caused the pressure to go kaput in the kitchen sink. Add to that mess that I blew up the ham. That's right. Blew it to bits. No idea how it happened or why it happened. I remember using one of those baking bags that I'd used hundreds of time before. Cut slits in the bag, flour it, insert ham and tie it loosely. Blam. Now granted I was upset. But the entire situation was so damned funny. I mean who blows up a ham?!

And this Christmas... sigh. Really, I blame the turkey. The bird was cursed from the start. My mom, the woman that grosses like 70k a year took not one but FIVE turkeys from a local church that was giving them away to the poor. I was appalled and disgusted as were the people she gave the turkeys to. I may be struggling financially but I would never, ever take food from the needy. As a matter of fact despite it all I regularly toss extra non-perishable items into my grocery cart to donate to the Daughters of Charity so that they can distribute it to those less fortunate. So when mom showed up glowing at the thought of pilfering 5 frozen birds to give to herself and a few family members I was upset but figured eh, she thinks she's doing good so I'll cook it anyway.

Ladies and gentleman, the turkey caught fire.

Twice.

I have no idea how it happened. Turkey is supposed to be the leanest meat next to fish right? Evidently the bird was a fatty one and the drippings rolled off the foil tent and onto the burners below the rack. The second time the bird caught fire I got pissed off, turned off the oven, put out the flames, aired out the house, beat the ever-loving-crap out of the smoke detector, and let the bitch sit in the oven overnight. I was so mad I couldn't even bear to take it out. The next day I tossed it into the garbage and went to Food Lion and bought another. It turned out beautifully. Best bird I've baked in a long time. It was so lovely I wanted to take a picture of it.

But still... how the hell?

Resolution #4: Take out the trash

Literally and figuratively. I want the negatives out of my life. That means negative thoughts, negative actions and negative people. I've made this resolution before and I did gain ground a little bit in 08. This year I plan to purge big time.

And all this clutter and bullshit in the house? Going. Out. NOW.

Resolution #5: Make Me Over

Not only do I need a character makeover, I need a physical one too. I need to lose weight, eat healthier, become more active and have some pride in my appearance. With that pride comes confidence which has been a stranger of late.

I have a 5 month short term goal to get into physical shape. I plan to race and complete the Susan G Komen Race For The Cure on May 9th of this year. I've lost relatives to breast cancer and a close friend has been battling it for about two years now. I can... I WILL do this.

If you are in the area, join me. We can huff and puff together for the cause.

And... I've got to fix lunch for the kids so I'll continue this later.

Distance...

So...

I took a little vacation from blogging. That's not entirely the truth but it'll do for now.

I hadn't realized people were still checking up on this blog. Hadn't realized people still cared. Some do; most don't.

Half a year since I wrote last. I didn't stop writing, I just stopped writing here. I've dozens of abstract thoughts, angry rants, depressing missives scattered throughout my house on scraps of paper, in notebooks, on both my home and work computers.

So much has happened and so much has changed. I have changed.

I've lost my joy, lost my zest. I've become gray (grey? always got the two confused). Aside from the kids very little matters to me. I've developed medical problems galore; I've one of those rolling backpacks that I haul with me everywhere just to carry all my medications. A med for ulcers, a med for pain, a med for migraines, a muscle relaxer for back spasms and a sprained knee; countless other medications to counter the side effects from the others. I've a pill to sleep, another to keep me awake; one more to give me a mental "boost"; another for excess stomach acid.

It's nothing new. I've been at this point before. Times when I was so stressed I'd come home and just lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling or simply roll over onto my stomach and cry. Finances, stress, drama. I'm sick of it all. Jaalyn and Trinity get me through each day. At night, my assortment of prescription pills make me sleep and keep me from dreaming. Even in my dreams my worries haunt me. On the rare occasions I do dream in drugged sleep the dreams are so hilarious that they resemble a really bad sitcom. And then... when I wake and shed the thick veil of sleep that shrouds me and I once again pick up my usual packages: Stress, worry, anger and bitterness are my garbs of late.

I hate feeling like that. I hate being that way. The medications my doctor prescribes don't make my financial struggles end, they don't make the weight fall away. All it does is mask what's just beneath the surface.

At times, I feel the whole world is against me. I'm torn because I know I am blessed in so many ways: healthy kids, a good job, roof over my head, etc. And yet... bad things continue to happen. Unusual what-are-the-odds type of things. I try to remain positive. I try to keep my head up.

I'm tired. Of trying. Of everything. Of everyone.

All I want for Christmas is...

Peace.

I wish...

Or The Most Abstract Post Ever. Well, from me anyway. Which isn't exactly a change from the norm when I read back through the archives of this blog.

I wish I could devote more time and energies to the hobbies I love.

I wish I were a child again and could look forward to my birthdays with glee instead of realizing it's another day.

I wish I could stop the clock some days so that I can savor the rapidly disappearing baby in Trinity.

I wish I could turn back the clock some days so that I could relive those first few years with Jaalyn all over again.

I wish, GOD how I wish, my mother weren't so fucking mean. And manic. And depressing.

I wish she wouldn't depress dad so much and push his buttons on purpose.

I wish dad wouldn't vent his frustrations to me so vehemehently that it makes me cry later when I'm alone.

I wish my baby daddy would just fucking do right.

I wish I didn't feel lonely as often as I do.

I wish this post didn't sound just as sad as I feel. (there's a story behind my mood, will share another time).

I wish Bush & Co. hadn't fucked the economy so bad while taking care of all their "people".

I wish I'd lived out that political dream I had as a kid.

I wish it would rain and rain and rain.

I wish my friend would come back.

I wish the retarded people in this county I live in didnt treat me as a dirty colored girl and respected me as a hard working woman and mother of two.

I wish I could be just a bit more frivolous.

I wish, sometimes, that my morals and ethics weren't so strong.

I wish people would stop telling me I "act" old.

I wish that I didn't feel sad so often and that medicine takes it away so easily.

I wish more people would see the real me instead of objectifying me.

I wish I didn't think so much at night.

I wish I could move just one more time.

I wish I could get two more kittens.

I wish I had a truck so that I wouldn't have to rely on others to transport big things for me.

Earlier today I received an anxious call from my gem of a landlord. The water utilities had been cut off effective this morning because of an outstanding bill due in May. The bill was only $54 and I mailed the payment and used a money order. Apparently the payment never made it because, lo, water cut off. So long story short (too late) I drove way out yonder and paid the bill at the county treasurers office. Pay on the first floor, go upstairs to have services restored. When I arrived in the room only one clerk was available and she was helping an elderly woman regarding a faulty meter of some sort. Once the pleasant exchange was completed and I stepped to the window the clerk's face clouded over and her tone became nasty. Now I had the paid in full receipt, listing the property, the amount paid, the name on the account and so forth. She read the paper and asked me the same information that was on the paper. I replied with the appropriate answers and this woman then proceeded to loudly lecture me about paying bills late and did I know I still had a balance of $50? True, the bill wasn't due until next Friday but I had better pay it on time or I'll be back in her face begging for a reconnect.

I said nothing at first. Then I simply said okay, thank you. And I left. But the entire exchange left me feeling dirty. And pissed. As much as I hate to admit it I absolutely detest the area I moved to. So many backwater hick, literal trailer park trash sucking their teeth and all but muttering Nigger under their breath. I am so sick of the bullshit. The white people I come in contact with are for the most part racist as hell and the blacks are just as ghetto as the people in the projects in the city; only they're worse because of the country hick-ness added to their trifling ways. Either race simply stares at me as I approach and I can feel their gaze burning holes in my back when I retreat.

I'm not saying people where any better in the city I left. More diverse, yes. More tolerant, definitely. But you come in contact with trash and sleaze in every corner of the earth. The only difference between where I am now and where I was before is that in the city, I knew the places to avoid the foolishness. There were fewer instances out outright racial discrimination and places you could go to avoid the... i don't know. The dirtiness of it all? I dunno. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Richmond was no different than this county. Maybe I was oblivious. Maybe I'm being sensitive.

I don't need a damned title...

Almost 2 months since I made a post. Eh. What's to say? Not much has changed really. Still tired, still financially struggling (but who isn't?) still existing...

I'm sick of myself complaining, but really what else is to be done at this point? Why bother to complain (but you know I will anyway)? I'm just point blank burned the fuck out. I'm sick of everyone and everything and I just don't care who knows it.

You know I was listening to this syndicated talk show a while back and the topic for the hour discussed single parenting, moms in particular. A woman pyschologist said that the worst thing for any mom is to get to that point where you feel like you want to run away and never come back... Even though we all know that the feeling/emotion is temporary the implications behind that thought were deeper and more troubling. Because for a mom to get to that point implies that she's overwhelmed, pushed beyond her limits and needs a break. It implies more importantly that she doesn't have the support she needs to endure. And that's where I am now. It's not as if I've never been here before. I vividly remember the same feeling from the days prior to Trinity's birth. I'd been going strong for about 3 years since Jaalyn's birth, day in and day out, through all her sicknesses, milestones, appointments and plays and all of the drama from my failed marriage and her father's bullshit.

And then one day I snapped.

I loved my daughter more than life itself but the thought of having to spend one more day worrying, planning, cooking, cleaning, providing... just the responsibility of it all. And the fact in itself that I was doing it ALL, alone. It wasn't supposed to be that way. It wasn't fair. Everyone else got to go about having fun, spending money on themselves and doing what they wanted to do to attain their goals. And here I felt I was being held back, not necessarily by parenthood, but by my own restrictions set in place to put my child's needs and desires before my own. Just plain old parental overload.

And that's where I am now. I'm just worn out being the only responsible one. The only one to problem solve. To look for summer care, summer clothes, attend parent teacher conferences, schedule doctor's appointments and provide constant stimulation and entertainment. Cooking meals, worrying, monitoring medications, and that's just the things involving the children. I also have the added stress of worrying about my father's worsening depression and anxiety as well as my mother's deteriorating mind. I'm stressed and I'm overloaded and overburdened. Trinity's going through separation anxiety again, typical for her age, but the fact that I can't take two steps away from her without her bursting into tears is wearing on me. I am constantly trying to evenly spend time with both girls, separately if not together, and the constant strain is killing me.

And it's not as if this is a crisis of great proportions, because it's not. It's just that. I don't know, I wish... I wish for lots of things. Sometimes I wish I could be frivolous, get my hair done, get a new dress and feel like a woman instead of a frumpy mom. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to worry about money so much... or my parents... or anything. I wish I could be a little bit selfish and do for myself every now and then.

But I can't. It's my lot in life for now. It won't always be this way I know. But it sure gets hard sometimes to keep on trudging on, day in and day out and looking out the window in hopes some multi-syllabled person would come along and whisk me away from all my troubles.