Failing….

!#@$^*%&^$#^&*I%$^*(%*$##%$  ← (insert any combination of foul language you feel is appropriate here)

I can’t handle this. 

I’m not the type to hide in the bathroom and cry, but I’ll blame my teary eyes on the migraine that is rapidly encroaching my brain.  Besides, sometimes you just have to walk away from yourself and embrace that other self. 

I’m falling, I’m failing, I’m floundering and I don’t know what to do about it all.  I’m taking my frustration and anger with myself out on all those around me…on my freinds, on my co-workers, worst of all, on Mr. W, the wonderful Mr. W, who is alone, in Iraq, for a year…I’m a bad girlfriend.  I suck.  I could probably manage it if I were a) more organized, b) more motivated, and c) less tired…but unfortunately my organization skills have always lacked, my motivation was sucked out of me years ago, and sleeping doesn’t come so easy since Mr. W left. 

So the juggling act begins again…but the balls are dropping and I don’t know how to pick them up again.

Needed: large shot of will power with a motivation chaser

“Here’s a rule I recommend: Never practice two vices at once.” – Tallulah Bankhead

Caffeine and nicotine.

I’m drinking my afternoon RedBull, having just smoked my last in my pack of cigarettes, contemplating whether I will buy another on my way home.  I’m trying to quit, just not very actively.  I even went and bought a herbal elixer from the local alterna-store and tried it…and guess what, it works…so I stopped taking it.  I’m not sure what it is.  I know better.  I know it’s bad for me.  I know it’s a bad influence type thing for my kids.  I know my car stinks like something crawled under the seat and died about two months ago.  I know my teeth aren’t as shiny white as they should be.  I know I’m not enjoying food like I could and should.  I know this lingering cold is a direct result of the smoking.  I know smoking has something to do with my recent return of the migraines.  I know I feel like crap at the end of the day and don’t even enjoy that first cigarette of the day like I used to.  I know I should quit…but it makes me think of another quote:

“When you say I should, you are imposing someone else’s expectations on yourself” — D.

So she asked me if I am feeling like I want to quit smoking, or if other people are telling me I should quit smoking, and honestly, I don’t know.  I know all the reasons, but do I really have a want to quit?  It used to be easy.  I was a casual smoker, and could start and stop on a dime…but I was taking anti-depressants then.  Now…not so much.  I’m actually addicted and I’m running pretty short on will power these days. 

Things I should do:

• quit smoking
• organize my clutter
• throw a bunch of stuff away
• plan and prepare healthy, well-balanced meals for my family
• get up earlier
• get ahead in my school work
• work on my training project at work
• sweep up the (thousand) leaves in the back yard
• throw away the (million) leaves I’ve already bagged
• work on my surprise for Mr. W
• install, learn, and utilize my photo editing software
• install, learn, and utilize the wordpress software and apply to my own site
• work on my art project

Things I want to do:

•  
•  
•  

Yeah, that’s how it is.

Aging…gracefully?

I found my second white hair.

It’s kind of hidden on the side of my head that I push all my hair towards, but I  know it’s there.  Of course, it’s my 5th if you count the phantom 3 at the back of my head that have been witnessed by a couple people over the years, but no real proof of their existence has yet been brought to light.  (The 1st/4th “appeared” out of thin air about 3 months ago.)

I’m not even 30!  I realize there are many out there who started going gray or white way earlier than this, and to you all, I’m sorry.  This is a big thing for me though.  I’m officially getting older.  On our recent trip to Michigan, I of course took my baby, my Nikon D-40, and Mr. W insisted on taking some pictures of me while we were exploring the big, bad city of Detroit.  Dude!  I look like my mom!  Not cool!  Ok, my mom is pretty.  No problems there, but she is also MY MOM!  And in her late 50’s!  I’m supposed to me, young and cute and all that, not my mom!  I’ve just gotten to the point where I am able to refer to myself as a woman (verses a girl, or chick) and it still makes me cringe when someone calls me “ma’am.”  I’m not ready to get old. 

I’ve had an “arthritic condition” since my early 20’s, so while the rain and cold affect me terribly (and painfully), it’s something I’ve grown accustomed to.  I’ve had digestive/stomach issues (GERD, heartburn, gastritis) since I agreed to marry Ex#1, which coincidentally went away when we separated, only to return shortly after marrying the STBX…hmmm…whoever says your body doesn’t respond to mental and emotional stress is full o- poop!  I get suddenly (in the last 2 years) get migraines.  I’ve suffered from insomnia for as long as I can remember.  My allergies get exponentially worse with each season.  My boobs, although small, seem to be migrating south as far as that little bit of skin will let them.  Aging gracefully was never in the cards for me, but really, do I have to do it now?  In my face?  In my hair!?  Couldn’t the __________ (fill in the all-powerful being, force, whatever of your choice there) have given me at least until I was out of my twenty-somethings? 

*Hrumph* and *Sigh*  Gone are the days of eating however much of whatever I want without any objection from my digestive system body, and still staying in shape.  Gone are the days of getting only 6 or even 4 hours of sleep and having no trouble pulling a full day’s work, cleaning my house, going shopping, and participating in extensive partying through the night, for several days on end with no ill-effects.  Gone are the days of being able to take 12 and 15 hour road trips without stopping every 80 (50) miles to pee, stretch, get water, then spend the next day recovering from the soreness of the drive.  Gone are the days of multiple marathon “snuggle” sessions.  I’m tired, I’m thirsty, and I have to pee….all the time!!  I’ve been tested for diabetes, had endoscopes, had my stomach lining, blood, and (ew) poop tested for all sorts of bacteria and disease, but these recent appearances of white hair and aged features on my face explain it all: I’m just getting older.  *Sigh*

I guess I will have to embrace it.  No hair dying for me.  No botox.  No crazy skin creams.  Just acceptance, and moving-on-ness.  At least I still get carded for cigarettes and beer!  Of course, they don’t know what I looked like when I was too young to buy cigarettes and beer…

Question: There are three very suspicious hairs in my bangs area that I’ve been keeping a close eye on…they seem to be lightening.  Do white/gray hairs grow that way, or does the color just slowly fall out?

Meet the Ws

It’s been a few days-ish, so I s’pose it’s time for a recap…

Mr. W took me “home” with him, meaning I met the family.  It was a 10 hour drive, that turned into 12 1/2 since I have the bladder of a mouse who has drank waaay too much.  His brother hooked us up with a nice hotel room, complete with whirlpool tub.  (yea!)  I met the mom, the older brother, the younger brother, the neice and nephew, the cousin, and the aunt within an hour of arriving in town.  Everyone was very nice, and dispite my nervousness, I managed to put on a smiley face and speak.  (I have always suffered from shyness around new people, especially mom-type people, especially mom-type people who are mom-types to the one I’m dating, moving in with, in love with, want to be with for_ _ _ _.  That’s normal, right?)  I think I made a decent impression. 

The evening put Mr. W and I back at the hotel room early-ish, and in the whirlpool.  Nice, relaxing, just what was needed after the long drive.  The next morning put me with a UTI.  I was already fighting a cold on the way up, and then a UTI…nice.  Luckily, my pharmacy-of-a-purse had some of those UTI pain pills, so I popped a couple and drank a gallon of cranberry, hoping to do a simple flush.  Not so lucky.  By 4pm, I was clammy and in excrutiating pain.  Thankfully, my doctor back home is fantastic and was willing to fax in a Rx without actually seeing me, so now I’m on some heavy duty antibiotics.  (can we say digestive issues!)  But at least the pain is gone. 

The rest of the trip was great!  We walked around Detroit for a bit.  We met the dad for breakfast one morning, then dinner and some pool another night.  We had dinner with Mr. W’s best friend, and my new bloggy friend, thegirlfromtheghetto herself.  (yea! Again, nice to meet you, in person, finally!) You all should defiantely check out her blog and all its fabulousness!  We shopped with the niece and nephew, and then again on our own.  Picked up some souveniers for my dad, Mr. W’s kids, and of course a couple things for us…Starbucks cup for our collection (we have: Detroit, Philadelphia, Atlantic City, Boston, and Washington DC)  And then there are the Oakleys.  Got my first pair, Flack Jackets, polorized lenses…thank you Mr. W…and I can’t belive I have ever worn anything else in my life!  They are so comfortable, and not crooked.  Yes, I suffer from the one ear severly higher than the other ear thing, so all glasses sit funny and require constant adjustment…but not Oakleys!!

The ride back was long, boring, and uneventful.  Another 12 hours, thanks to my mousey-bladder.  Of course, the cold has now mutated into something straight out of hell…

I got up yesterday morning with full intention of returning to work, but upon waking up, Mr. W went into spaz mode, freaking out about the mess in the house.  I’m sure it had something to do with him starting his new job yesterday, but still…  So I said I would call in and get the house up to par.  He left in a huff, I showered, ate breakfast, and, dispite the two cups of coffee, felt the overwhelming need to take a nap.  So back to bed I went, until 1030.  I got up and got to cleaning up the house, ate lunch, and grew a migraine.  So I went to the basement with another cup-o-joe and some pills to lay down in the cool darkness, intending to stay just long enough for the pills and caffeine to kick in.  Another nap.  2pm I woke up, feeling much better, so I continued with the cleaning.  Mr. W got home around 430, with his kids for dinner, and the evening went smoothly. 

I took Thera-flu last night before bed, and woke up around 1230 ready for another dose.  This morning was ok…I made it into work, but now I’m feeling rather tight in the chest again, sleepy, and a little nauseated, seriously contemplating going home.  I think I just might…

Weekend review…albeit a backwards one (I miss my babies!!)

I have a migraine, I didn’t sleep well last night, and my allergies are kicking my butt.  Soon the soreness from this morning’s trip to the gym (chest day, yea!) and two mile run will kick in and I will be totallyuseless.  Oh, and my homework is two days late.  Hmmm…

I’m not sure why I couldn’t sleep last night.  I’ve been sleeping really well lately, but last night when the lights finally went out and I curled up next to Mr. W all warm and cozy-like, I suddenly felt like I had just downed a cup of very strong coffee.  (Oh yeah, that’s that insomnia thing…I’d almost forgot…)  I tried to creep out of bed for a cigarette and he woke, thinking something was wrong.  (That was the first time we didn’t go to bed/sleep together.)  I had to reassure him, several times, that nothing was wrong and headed downstairs with my book for some Tazo Calm tea.  Too late for any of my little white friends to help me sleep if I actually wanted to get out of bed in the morning…430am comes early, even more so when you take sleep-aids at 11pm.  45 minutes later I was back in bed and managed to fall asleep, but it was not a restful sleep.  No bad dreams (thank goodness) but just not restful.

Honestly, I think I really just miss my kids.  I picked up the girl yesterday late morning and had some bonding time with her: shoe shopping (side note:  we walked into Payless Shoes and she stopped, gasped, and exclaimed “Look at all the shoes!!”  So very cute!), pj shopping, and although we had planned a movie, we ended up with a nap instead.  A great nap.  I laid down with her planning just to get her to sleep and sneak away to work on some homework, and she promptly crawled on my stomach, head on my chest, and then we both passed out.  It was wonderful I must say.  We haven’t slept like that in a really long time and I hated that it had to end when it was time to take her back to her dad.  She wasn’t too thrilled either.  She cried all the way to our meeting place, sobbed when I put her in his car, and needed, needed several tight hugs before the tears stopped streaming and she agreed to go with him with the promise that I would pick her up again soon.  The whole thing was the epitome of bitter sweet. 

I did get to see the boy this weekend too.  Another visit to the counselor with him and ex #1.  Another wasted 3 hours on the road, each way, plus 2 hours with her, plus $75, plus gas and tolls.  *sigh*  A means to an end, I hope.  One bright note; she talked to the boy’s sitter about the discrepancies in the stories from ex-1 and I and is finally beginning to catch on to his trend of lying.  When confronted about the apparent “miscommunication,” (read: bold faced lie, you bastard.  Do you really think I wouldn’t find out??) he had no answer for her, and turned about 3 shades of red before trying to pin me in some other crock of bull…to which I had an answer at every turn!  Now I know I’m not supposed to revel in others’ anguish, nor am I supposed to take delight in others’ shortcomings and pain –however– I walked out of that appointment with a huge smile on my face.  He’s being discovered as the liar he is. *check*  He didn’t stump me with any of his conniving sneakiness. *check* The boy confirmed that I in fact do not spank him anymore. (Ex-1 apparently spoke to the counselor about this at length prior to our appointment, because of his “extreme concern with the situation,” only to be shot down by his own son in front of her) *check, check* And just before leaving, the boy again declared his desire to come home with me rather than return with his dad.  *check*  (more of that bitter sweetness).

But I do miss them.  I miss the hugs and the kisses and the little exclamations and squeals of delight over the littlest things.  I even miss the fighting and yelling because when it comes down to it, they are still with me.  It’s been a really long road, especially with the boy, but (I’m almost afraid to say it)I’m beginning to see a faint glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.  (Either that or that bastard ex husband of mine has a flashlight down there just to f*** with me!)

..well, this post was totally backwards, but, hey, what do you expect on 4 broken hours of sleep?