The Awful Truth About Love

You've probably already blown it.

All your life you have been told it's about birds singing and fireworks and all this other bullshit... You know what? You probably met the 'love of your life' years ago, but fucked it all up because they weren't what you're looking for....

Well, ain't that a bitch.

Since the earliest days, we are taught to look for a special kind of explosive kind of love...typically using whatever our parents had/didn't have as a guide in regards to what we don't want. Then deposit fairy tails, Disney princesses, wedding catalogs... You're fucked.

I've recently told a friend that I am to the point where I've given up on love. My goal was to find one other crazy asshole to hang out with and not judge me too harshly til one of us dies. If that asshole can manage to fall in love with me, well, then that's all the better. That...was when it occurred to me... Isn't that what love is???

The idea of love at first sight is a bunch of horse puckey, my friends. If there is someone you can't stop thinking about, someone that invades your thoughts constantly.... Well, experience has told me to run. That person is no good for you. I just don't think it really happens like that.... not long term anyway.

You can fall in love with an idea really quick. A person? Not so much. People do stupid things... gross things... even really cool people. You gotta take all that weird, stupid and gross shit on...long term. Dude, people are an acquired taste, like vodka. No one likes vodka the first time they taste it. Well, not if they are being honest with yourself anyway. You just kinda....get used to it.

True love involves a hell of a lot of tolerance. Like, a shit load. It's not about accepting someone for all that they are or aren't, it's more so that realizing that both you and your partner have mental or physical ailments that you have to learn to live within. Now, I'm not suggesting that it's really cool that your dreamboat dresses up as a bunny and beats people to death with a steel dildo, that's more than a mental ailment. That is batshit crazy. When I say mental, I mean just enough dysfunction to make you funny... just the cutest touch of mental illness. SWOON.... (Unless you are into the whole bunny suit thing, then rock on, sista!)

My point is this... wait, huh? SAIL!

You've probably already met them. You probably already cast them away, friend zoned them, whatever... You might have even had the brass balls to assume you were too good for them, or vice versa. If you're really lucky, one day when you're at the gas station in sweats and flip flops, lookin' a wreck, you'll run into them when the fountain machine sprays slushie all over you. Hopefully they'll grab you a towel, however, I'd know he was the one if he laughed his ass off at me first, THEN got the towel.

A guy once told me that I shouldn't take all his yelling and ranting personally. I was like, WHUUUUT? how the hell do you not take all that shit personal, especially when it's directed at you pretty much non stop. It's how every day began... When I asked that, he said, "Well, sure. Don't let anyone else talk to you like that. But when I do it, don't take it personal." I'm pretty sure that's Latin for "I'm a DICK." We end up with dicks because they look intriguing, or tortured geniuses or whatthefuckever lie we wanna tell ourselves. The only tortured anything is yourself, years later, wondering how the hell you got where you are. (This was not in the brochure!)

Slow down. It's not a race. People get married at 90. People have been instinctively coupling for eons... It'll happen. Wait for it. Maybe the problem is you.... maybe when you met the right person, you weren't the right person yet. Do a little work on yourself, take a little inventory. The right person won't save you, they'll compliment you.  They'll instinctively pick up when you begin to drop. It's a beautiful dance that can only be perfected after practice....lots of practice.

It'll all be alright in the end. If it's not alright? Well, then it's not the end yet.

xoxo

Working Through Psychosis...

Well, maybe I'm being over dramatic... (as if!)

We all have our struggles in life. ALL OF US.

I recently went to a psychiatrist to be treated for what I was SURE was Borderline Personality Disorder. Awesome, right? I mean, if your gonna get a mental illness, why not one of the single most difficult to treat? Turns out that was NOT the diagnosis.

I suffer from "Mid-Level Depression and Bi-Polar Type 2"

It is treatable with medication, therapy and a little self forgiveness. I'm not crazy, but my depression makes me think I am.

So, I start thinking to myself, how many other people are silently suffering from depression because they think they are simply bat shit crazy? Oh, probably a shit ton! I thought I would share my story with you and highlight a few of the unusual symptoms I had that I would not have associated with Depression.

I am moody as FUCK. I mean uber uber doober moody. I'll come home from work and see a few dishes on the counter and my brain will say, "Hey! This looks like an AWESOME time to alienate your entire family make them feel like shit for not reading your mind and cleaning off the goddamned counter! Let's get really loud, slam some shit around, but most importantly, you need to be super irrational. Now when I say irrational, I mean take it up to an eleven. Once you REALIZE you are being irrational, understand that is no place to stop! that means pursue your dreams! Go big!"

Seriously.

I start with, "Hey, you left shit all over the place (gross misrepresentation of three cups on the counter)" and end somewhere with "YOU"RE THE BIGGEST JERK I'VE EVER MET AND I WANT TO PUSH YOU OFF A CLIFF!"

That's logical, right?

The worst part is realizing that exact moment that I have gone over the edge but not being able to stop myself. I mean, why stop there?

Then there is the illogical logic. Ha. I'll ask you a question. Like a normal person, you will respond. Perhaps you will leave out details or give an incomplete answer... Brain says, "Well lookie here! Clearly what he meant by 'Oh' was 'I think you're an idiot. When you to sleep, I'm going to pack up everything WE own and leave. By the time you get up, not only will you be alone, but broke... so good luck finding me!"

Well, maybe that's a stretch for even my brain's standards... but not much.

I can't remember anything. Dates, events, conversations I'VE JUST HAD.... nothing. (unless it took place 20 years ago, then I am quite like an idiot  savant) I will never be able to recall what my agenda was for today at work without use of notes or Outlook reminders, but I will NEVER forget that time in third grade where Danny Smith Depantsed you in front of the whole school and how you cried tears of shame into your beautiful paisley blouse...Isn't paisley underrated by the way?"

Which leads me to my next point. Attention span. Don't got one. I will day dream about puppies and kitties and what I could  be doing later while you tell me your inner most desires. I don't mean to. I just can't.

I am not my BiPolar.
I am not my ADHD, ADD or any other combination of letters.
I am not Schizphrenic.
I have PTSD.
I am not a looney toon.


I am not a doctor. I don't even look good in white.... I am not saying that if you feel the same way there is nothing serious going on in your  mind or body. What I am saying is you don't need to be afraid. Slice of Humble did a blog today on some things she went through post pardom. She's not a nut either. She's a really good friend. The point is, don't be afraid.

You don't need to feel like shit. You don't need to suffer through hours and hours of anxiety attacks like I did. You don't need to rock yourself back and forth in the dark while talking to your cat Fluffy telling him you turned out just like your crazy dead mom. WHAT??  Get help. Talk to someone.

Stress is a motherfucker, guise. I mean it! It can make you nuts. being a single mom, however rewarding, is stressful as fuck. Losing a parent, no matter how much you couldn't take their insanity, is stressful as fuck. Keeping inside dark secrets are stressful as fuck. And you know what? Thinking there is something wrong with your beautiful, intelligent self.... is stressful as fuck.

I'm on day four of an anti depressant and a sleep aid. Even the colors around me look brighter. Seriously. I laugh more. I smile more. I SNAP LESS. My doctor and I chose Prozac because it is the most 'forgiving' of all anti depressants... you can stop taking it at any time without withdrawal symptoms. So, when enough is enough, I can just stop. Ambien is my little sleep angel and I look forward to having unconscious sex or eating whilst driving to Las Vegas in an Ambien induced slumber soon. (Disclaimer:  no, I do not. )

Guys, how are you feeling?

It's been a while....

Hello, Lovelies!

When I started this blog, it was meant to be a comedic outlet, a documentation of raising a few kids... But then it took a turn. Life changed. The dark side got darker. I started to write things that were depressing because they were weighing hevily on my mind and then eventually stopped writing all together because I just couldn't even bring myself to type a few words.

Well, I've made changes. Hopefully the future will be brighter. I'm sure there will be repercussions of my decisions; there always are regardless if those decisions are good or bad. I made the choice to me a single mother again, well, it was made for me, but that's really not the point. The point is that's where I am at.

My older kids are 14 and 17, so being a single mother to a  couple of adolescents in my 20's and early 30's is way different than starting over at 35 with a 21 mo old. Sometimes it's way better because I'm more relaxed and experienced, other times it's just exhausting because I feel old. 

I don't know where the future is going to take all of us, but I'm a little excited. Once again, my life is a blank canvas I can do anything with. Well, almost anything. I probably won't be a Victoria's Secret model or an Astronaut, but who knows? Maybe one day the space program will resume and want to put women with real bodies in some VS undies and ship us to Uranus. There's always hope!

Thanks for sticking with me, even when I wasn't funny. Even when I didn't post. thanks for your comments of support. They meant the world even when you didn't know it.

Love you guys! Look forward to bringing the funneh back...