Saw a bumper sticker the other day that provoked thought:

God is pro-life.

Hmmm. Ok. Or is He? There's an awful lot of death going on for Someone so pro-life. And who on Earth is to decide how God feels about anything at all? How presumptuous is that? Delusions of grandeur? Hello?
People are so weird.

I finally shaved my legs today. You know it's bad when you can be so proud of the smallest accomplishments.

Depression blows.

Please excuse this blog. This blog has felt like a depressed blob. This blog will try to remember everything blog worthy of the last week and tell you all about it in excruciating detail. I know you've been holding your breath. You should stop doing that. You do look lovely all crimson though. It really is your color.

(moaning)
Paxil is making me ill.
I took it once before, years ago. I don't remember all this agony. I do remember it worked.
While researching my numerous side effects, I came upon a study. This study was about Paxil being used for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. ha. You know, I forget sometimes, that I am not like other people in that respect.


"In PTSD, memories of the traumatic event intrude into daily life and even into dreams. The person with PTSD "relives" what happened, over and over again -- experiencing great anxiety and distress in the process.
People with PTSD are usually extremely self-protective, or hypervigilant; they startle easily; and have trouble concentrating."

I read that and chuckled grimly. Gee, look Ma! More traumatizing shit in my life! As if I weren't traumatized enough already!
(I was diagnosed with PTSD years ago. Before all this bullshit with the X...which is what is CURRENTLY replaying and popping up unabated in my head.)

(deep breath)

When I came home today I laid on my bed for a long time and listened to the birds sing. I entered a nice deep meditative state and felt great. Then I sat up and felt sick again. But for a few minutes anyway, I pondered my life and the events unfolding.
It always seems to me that all the crap I go through is at least going to help me be a better shrink one day. Oh, yes, that is my dream job. But first I have to fix my broken self, no? Indeed. (Don't like broken? Oh. Um...dented?) Anyway, I wonder if maybe I have somehow convinced myself over the years that I should continue to suffer, that suffering will make me stronger, wiser, better able to empathize.
Honestly.
If so, that's a crappy hand I keep dealing myself, and I ought to stop that.
Food for thought.

the dogwoods are blooming too.

Seriously, how cute is this bunny?
(insert warm fuzzy pun here)

my orchid is blooming....a spot of joy in my room

(insert retching sounds here)

So I've decided to take Paxil. I feel it may be a sort of crutch, but it is better to walk with a crutch than lay down and die. That is my feeling on the matter.
Ok. So I take it last night, and thrash around in bed, wake up at 2:30 am and think it is time to get up (it's not). I only fell asleep at 11 pm. This happened over and over until it is actually 6 am, at which point I am relieved to stop thrashing. I wake up fully and am sorry I did- I am in full blown panic attack mode, can't breathe, feel shaky, and weirdly enough, my eyes are dilated and won't stop doing that. Very bizarre. I immediately think of the hundreds of things I have to do and remember and panic about that. I try to talk some sense into me, and tell myself whatever needs to be done can wait till later, when I feel better. Whatever needs to be remembered will not cause death in the meantime; I need not consume myself with it.
I get up and realize I am nauseous, very nauseous in fact. Great. So far Paxil is not winning any fans. I manage to get some oatmeal in my stomach and feel MUCH better. Over the next hour the other feelings fade and I feel ok.
The rest of the day I feel almost great. Well, in comparison to how I USUALLY feel lately. Which could best be described as pulled so thin I may tear in half. Anything or anyone that requires my attention and/or time I have a tendency to growl at.
I am ornery. Ok, a bitch.
I just want to feel like me again.
It's been a really long time since I've been happy. I have moments, but they are fleeting and impossible to hold onto.
I want them back. I want my joy.
When I look back at the last year, I'm hardly surprised it's worn me down to this. In fact, I feel sorry for me. Not in a poor pitiful me sort of way, but in a damn I need to give myself some credit and some serious TLC.
~sigh~
Hmmm.

Had an MRI done today.
Not a fan of the MRI, I must say. Kinda didn't like the laying in the claustrophobic tube while remaining deathly still while bone rattlingly loud noises enveloped me.
Not a fan of the MRI, nosiree.

However- I do have pictures of my own spinal cord.
And that IS disgustingly cool.

No more wicked awesome snow, my dudes.

(laughing)

No, no, it's 70's and sunny and yours truly is lightly sunburned from two days of laying in the sun. Aaahhh. I'm not a huge fan of the suntan, but few things bid adieu to winter better than having legs that don't blind people in sunlight. It's hard for me to feel that winter is over when I'm still horrified by the sight of myself in shorts.

My horror has ended.


My skin feels kinda hot and tight and even though I've accomplished nothing of particular, I feel it has been a good day. All that meletonin, you know.

Ahhhh.

Don't be fooled. I am by no means happy. I am content for the moment, however. I'll take that. I'll take what I can get.

this morning

it was wicked awesome

this morning it snowed

I decided I would be less miserable up on the parkway in the snow, taking pictures. So I did. This one was awesome in person- the wind was howling over the ridge and whipping me with snow. If you look closely you can see the white streaks in the photo, obscuring the background.

Oh- and the nightmares the night before were about getting chased (to be eaten) by Yeti.
Yah, yah pretty funny I guess. It had to do with the book I was reading before bed.
At any rate, I think I need to look at whats chasing me before my brain makes up any more shitty dreams.

Fell asleep early and woke up from psycho nightmares this morning.
The dream was going ok until I had to get back to my babysitter. It was my friend Suzanne, and everything was ok. I had gone out and flirted horrible with tons of guys- it was fun. Then I get back and my son is asleep and Suzanne tells me something about how "they had to defrost this guy" and how babysitting was no problem until then. Suddenly my son is somewhere else and instead there is some guy curled up, in the process of reanimation, I guess. But it's a convicted murderer, and I don't know WHY they would bring him back. Suzanne tells me he's retarded, and so they couldn't prove something or other, so they had to bring him back to life. I carry this curled up half alive guy over to a table or bed or something (he was "sleeping" in a wheel barrow) and he starts to wake up. I hadn't expected him to do this. As soon as he does, I am sorry. He looks at me. He doesn't know who I am or why he is there, and someone starts to explain it to him. We cover him up so he can warm up, and he goes back to sleep. I am totally repulsed by him, he just gives me the creeps so completely. I know he is the murderer, there is no doubt in my mind. I can see him doing it. Yuck. Anyway, I end up leaving with Suzanne, and we walk halfway to wherever it is we are going and I sudden;y look at her and say, "Should we have just left him there all alone?" I mean, here's this freshly reanimated murderer waking up , and we left him by himself? Shouldn't someone be guarding him? Someone other than me, since he gives me the creeps? We discuss the possible ways he could escape (back to Arkansas- who knows, its my dream) and realize there is a truck outside with keys in it. We'd better go back. Well, I go back anyway and there are two other people there. Crazy murderer guy also has friends there. He shoots us. The guy in front of me takes my bullet though and falls on top of me. I leave him there and act like I'm dead. I don't want to get shot. I lay as still as possible for a long time while the guys discuss what they're going to do, and what to do with the bodies. I'm hoping they'll just leave. I'm also hoping they other guys aren't really dead either but just faking it. I realize that's unlikely, but I also realize there is no blood dripping down on me from the guy on top of me. Well, they finally go to move his body and he's stiff by then (so I'm guessing dead) and they have a hard time getting him off of me. I remember one of them saying, "Move you bastard!" to the corpse. They start shoving our bodies over and of course aren't being gentle about it, and it hurts so bad I finally have to grab the guys hand that's jabbing into my side. He figures out I'm alive pretty quickly then. Somehow I escape. I'm running down a street and the psychos are chasing me in a car, shooting at me. I run into a building and there's a set of three wooden doors. Each door is made from cheap stained plywood, with a brass bolt on each. I unbolt the door, bolt in behind me, run up the stairs. Another set of three. I pick one, unbolt it, bolt it behind me and run up (or down) stairs. I know they are following me so I'm trying to be random in the hopes I can throw them of my trail. One I don't lock behind me, thinking this may also throw them off (or worst case, speed my capture/death). The last thing I remember was coming to a door that had big brass numbers on it reading "15".

Thats when I woke up.
I was breathless when I woke up and looked at the clock and decided it may be early, but screw it I'm getting out of bed, before I get shot.

And just in case my subconscious is confused about the last blog....when I said I want to crawl in a hole, I didn't mean a grave. I just want to be alone. No more psychos shooting at me dreams, please. Thanks.

I wish I could crawl in a hole.

I just finished watching The Swan. For those of you unaware, it's a bizarre new TV show where they take "ugly" women and put them in "The Swan Program"- they give them plastic surgery, work outs, diets, 3 months of that and they never get to see what they look like till the end. Then they get them all dressed up and stand them in front of a mirror.
Ok, the mirror moment was the whole reason I watched this show. To see two women cry at how beautiful they are...well...it was just beautiful. No matter how much plastic surgery was involved. It was just cool.

I must say that I am always surprised at how big they pick to have their boobs though. There was some other show...I forget... anyway, whenever women get to pick how big their boobs are they always pick them HUGE. The first one said, "BIG double D's" and my jaw dropped. Yeesh. Personally? No thanks. I'm small chested myself, but that's just crazy. I've thought about it now and then, but I think it would be crazy for me to do it, since I only want them a little bit bigger. It just seems silly.

(Denny, you likely remember this:)
One time I was laying out on my front lawn and a guy walked up the street and just walked on up and told me I had a perfect body, if only my boobs were "a handful bigger". A handful bigger. I can't tell you how many times I've cursed that son of a bitch. Hey, thanks for the compliment, oh wait, no that's a complex. If only they were a handful bigger.
I'd like to kick that asshole in the shins.

At any rate, it seems foolish to go under the knife for a handful, so there ya have it.

Wasn't I talking about a TV show and not my boobs?
Yes.
Well, anyway, the women get to see themselves at the end and then one of the two is picked to go on to a beauty pageant. They make it seem like a big deal, who gets picked. Who cares? I mean, you've just had thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of stuff done to you, you look beautiful, who gives a crap about a contest?
Bizarre.

how I feel lately...

death of a relationship

I think I've entered the sad part of the grieving process.
First is denial, second anger (we all know I've had plenty of that!), third is sorrow, fourth is acceptance.
I guess I should be glad I'm moving towards some sort of conclusion.
Right now it all just sucks though.
I went grocery shopping and barely bought a thing. Nothing looked good. I cry at the drop of a hat.
I hope this stage doesn't last as long as the anger did.
~~~Sigh~~~~~~~~~

Oh dear God.
The X told my son he would come over Friday night and play games with him. My son was really excited about it. I wasn't. But I tried to mostly keep this to myself. So, I thought he was coming over right after work. By 6, I call him. He says no no, but he'll be over soon. I ask, When is soon? An hour? Two? Three? He says No no, an hour. Ok. An hour and a half later he calls (from home) and tells me he's on his way. Ugh- but at least he called...eventually...another 45 minutes go by and he finally shows up. I'm sitting outside, annoyed all to hell. When he walks up I ask him what took him so long. He gets indignant and defensive (understandably, I am pissed off). I tell him, "I'm just curious what you were doing. I want to know what it is that's more important than us." He says he was "moving a table around". I try not to snort derisively. I say, "It took you an hour to move a table around? That's sad, a table is more important." He's getting really pissed off, too. He tells me he should just leave since he obviously isn't wanted. I tell him (my son) wants him here. My son runs outside, all happy to see him and tells my X to come inside and play, and he runs in the house. I walk in to check on the cookies I'm baking and my son asks me where (my X) is. I say, Well, I guess he's still standing outside. We go outside in time to see him drive away, while my son screams his name over and over again.
I tell him to stop, and come inside. We both start crying. It breaks my heart to see my son bawling his eyes out and he manages to choke out, "He broke his promise! He said he would play with me!" and continues bawling. I hug him and think about how I would like to beat the living crap out of my X. What a total asshole. And my son keeps asking me why he left...and I tell him because I was mad at him for being late...but that wasn't any excuse to just leave without even saying goodbye. My son is still bawling. I tell him I'm sorry (my X) is being such an asshole (exact words), and that he does mean things like that to me a lot, that's why we live here now. I tell him I am amazed he would do that to him (my son), and that he's (X) just not right. I tell him there's no use in crying, so let's eat some cookies. He sobs intermittently throughout the cookies. I finally tell him it's time to dye our Easter eggs, and that's exciting enough for him to forget about it.
The X calls. I tell him what an asshole he is, and that my son deserves an apology! He gets on the phone and (the X) apologizes to him.
Whatever. What an asshole.

(Erica, remember my permanent list? This one goes in it in bold print.)

It's one thing to be an asshole to me. It's another entirely to do it to my child.

My son and I, meanwhile, have a great time painting eggs. We eat cookies and nothing more is said of the asshole.
But I am seething, people. He just changed everything. Not that he was in my good graces...but seeing as how my son adores him, I have put up with the visiting because my son enjoys it. Now what? My son still wants him to come over because he will forgive him. As his mother and protector, do I let him?
It's the same crap I went through with his dad. Which makes me think I'll have to enforce the same rule: don't call if you've been drinking. Just don't bother.
Well then.
I guess he'll never call, huh?

"I pray for all of us, oppressor and friend, that together we may succeed in building a better world through human understanding and love, and that in doing so we may reduce the pain and suffering of all sentient beings."

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama

It occurs to me how traumatizing being with my X was there, in the end.
I got back up at 12:30 this morning and decided to watch the Chapelle Show. Not a problem, other than the lack of sleep. But not something I do anymore, most nights I"m sitting here at the computer. I used to watch late night TV when the X and I still lived together...and apparently my body registered that even though I did not.
Damn it all if I didn't sit there having one panic attack after another.
WTF, I wondered, until I heard a door slam nearby and my heart skipped a beat.
Literally.
And that's when I realized it was giving me flashbacks to being with him! Sitting there all night waiting for him to come home, waiting for the phone to ring, waiting waiting waiting...
that son of a bitch.
That piece of shit son of a fucking bitch.

What the hell is wrong with me that I would ever pick such a total asswipe to love?
I hope I can answer that, soon.
I need to know.
Apparently the TV is not safe for me, either.

But it blows because I had such a great day...then woke up and felt so utterly alone.
~sigh~
I know I'm not. I know I don't really remember how to be alone without feeling so crappy.
I'll get the hang of it.
Sooner or later.

I've realized the radio is not safe for me. Maybe it will be again someday for now, it is not. There are way too many songs that upset me, piss me off, make me think of the X. It drives me crazy, all day long. So I've burned CDs. I will burn more.
It's for my mental health.
It's for my own good, you know.

Finally got to see my cute neighbor up close, and he is indeed a cute neighbor. The kind that grows on you, I think.

At any rate, I got home and there's the most beautiful tree blooming where I parked, so I got out and sat on the hood for a minute while my son got out. Then I noticed the BEES, there must have been 50-60 bees, all different kinds, swarming around this tree. And it smells absolutely beautiful (the bees and I agree on something!) So I got out my camera and my son and I sat there enjoying this gorgeous beautiful tree in all it's full bloom glory....
and the neighbor pulls up.

Finally! I think to myself. And I think I probably look kind of odd, sitting on my truck, staring up at a tree with a dopey happy look. Oh well. Joy is fabulous. I don't care what it looks like. He walks over, and looks curious, and smiles. I tell him, "It's like a symphony!" and he asks, "The birds?" (who sing like mad in the backyard) I say, "Well, them too," and laugh. "No," I say, "The bees." And he looks up too. He stops walking and just stands there for a minute, and I tell him how beautiful it smells and how cool it is to hang out with so many bees and not even be noticed. He smiles at me like maybe he's being nice or maybe he thinks I'm a dork, or maybe he thinks I'm a cute girl, standing outside happily watching the bees in the tree. Who knows. We chit chat for a second and he goes inside.

An hour later my son and I are still under this tree, because I've decided I LOVE this tree (look Mom! No allergies!). Cute neighbor guy comes back out with a bag (turns out to be his laundry) and no....it can't be....he's got on GLASSES.

I could just die.

For anyone unaware, I have a total THING for glasses. It's because I have delusions of grandeur, of course, and fancy myself to be some sort of intellectual, right? I don't know. But regardless, there it is.

Oh my GOD he looked so incredibly cute.

Now I just want to see him with his glasses on again.
Your truly has herself a bonafide crush. (It's based on eyewear, granted, but work with me here people.)
I never thought I'd see the day.
A crush is way more fun than misery.
Just let me have it.

Scenes from today

Checkers or chess, I'm not sure; I drove by too fast.

I sat under this tree for an hour after I came home; it smells soooooo good.

What a beautiful day.....

a list of things to enjoy without the X around

always having toilet paper*not shaving my legs*waiting up for no one*no beer in the house*no hungover asshole in the house*no one uses up the hot water before I do*my bed is always made*the dishes are always clean*nothing smells like cigarettes*it's quiet at night*no horror flicks screaming from the other room*no annoying coke inspired techno coming from the other room*I don't have to be quiet in the morning*I don't find any science project looking dishes lurking about*I don't have to repeatedly ask anyone to take out the trash- I do it anyway, just like before*no friends tracking in mud all over my freshly cleaned house*no dumbass waking me up for sex (key words:WAKING ME)*I can sleep whenever I damn well please*I don't have to wonder where he is; just don't care anymore*no more waiting for the phone to ring so his drunk ass can babble on about his whereabouts*don't have to file a missing persons report when his drunk ass passes out somewhere*I won't even LIST all the black out possibilities (I hear Erica laughing)*no more trying to solve his depression*no more concentrating on anyones happiness but my own*
no more concentrating on anyones happiness but my own
no more concentrating on anyones happiness but my own
no more concentrating on anyones happiness but my own
NO MORE CONCENTRATING ON ANYONES HAPPINESS BUT MY OWN!!!!

Saw this headline this morning:

Today's Top News Stories

• Rioting across Iraq kills nearly 61 - 9:59 AM

How exactly do you kill NEARLY 61? How does that work, pray tell?

let's not forget Ren's speech in the Space Madness episode...so apt for my recent insanity.

"...I'll just lie back and think pleasant thoughts. Chicken pot pie... Chocolate covered Raisins... Glazed Hammmmm... They think I'm crazy... But I know better... It is not I who am crazy... It is I who am MAD!... Didn't you hear 'em? Didn't you see the crowds?!! Oh my beloved ice cream bar... How I love to lick your creamy center... eeyaaarghruch... eeyaarghrunch... eeyaarghrunch... And your oh-so-nutty chocolate covering... You're not like the others... You like the same things I do... Wax paper... Boiled football leather... Dog breath... WE'RE NOT HITCHHIKING ANYMORE... WE'RE RIDING...! "


Yah, that pretty much sums it up.

"Hello, boys and girls. This is your old pal, Stinky Wizzleteats. [*]
This is a song about a whale. No! This is a song about being happy!
That's right! It's the Happy Happy Joy Joy song!

[chorus]
Happy Happy Joy Joy Happy Happy Joy Joy
Happy Happy Joy Joy Happy Happy Joy Joy
Happy Happy Joy Joy Happy Happy Joy Joy
Happy Happy Joy Joy Joy!

I don't think you're happy enough! That's right! I'll teach you to be happy! I'll teach your grandmother to suck eggs! Now, boys and girls, let's try it again!

[chorus]

If'n you aint the grandaddy of all liars! The little critters of nature... They don't know that they're ugly! That's very funny, a fly marrying a bumblebee! I told you I'd shoot! But you didn't believe me! Why didn't you believe me?!

[chorus without last line]
Happy Happy Happy Happy
Happy Happy Happy Happy
Happy Happy Joy Joy Joy!"

So I've been thinking....
throughout all the bullshit of the last few months, I've been miserable. The X and his Hussy haven't. They did what they wanted to and that's that. They aren't miserable now (well, him maybe a little bit.) And yet I still am?

Am I retarded?

Why would I hand over that much power to two idiots? How did I do that?
What was I thinking?


It's time to rewire the circuits.
I'm starting with every song I loved as a teenager, burned onto CDs........
Massive amounts of Poi Dog Pondering. U2. Bow Wow Wow. Bobby McFerrin. The Beatles.
And the Ren and Stimpy Happy Happy Joy Joy song, of course.

I've had a bit or realization about the X. You know, I'm rereading past blogs and there is a hell of a lot of "WHY CAN'T I LET GO?"
Well. I think I know the answer now.
Over the last 5 years, I have been both his girlfriend and his best friend.
As his best friend, I understand his whole nervous breakdown/fucked some slut. Like, I KNOW him and I see where his fucked up little brain went, and how he ended up where he is now. (Which is alone, I maliciously point out.)
As his ex girlfriend, I don't have that same forgiveness. As his ex girlfriend, I want to blare Alanis Morisettes "You Ought To Know" while taking a baseball bat to both of them.

I can let go of the girlfriend part, eventually. Well, once the rage is released, one way or another.
But the best friend part is the part that stays attached. Replacing a best friend is nearly impossible.
I'm working on it, though.
I'm working on it.

I was watching the wind blowing the trees around this morning. Soon it will be one of my favorite times of the year: when the wind blows the trees flower petals down. Oh, I like them blooming....but I like them even more when I'm driving and millions of swirling flower petals are in the air....like a magical fairy wonder land.
Gorgeous!
Not long now....

You know, I was going to come up with some great story about how I eloped with my X last night and finish it with APRIL FOOLS but I just couldn't do it. I tried. It made me nauseous. Sorry. Just be amused anyway, ok?
And Happy April Fools Day.
We're suckers, one and all!