Thank you for my healthy family. Thank you for my warm and dry house. Thank you for two cars that run. Thank you for the red Jeep Wrangler hardtop I will own someday. Thank you for unemployment checks. Thank you for my husband finding a job he is excited about. Thank you for the human body having two kidneys. I am thankful that my frustration over the disorganization of the medical industry distracts me from my son’s health issue. I am thankful my husband has a 401k that we can dip into. I am thankful for warm fall days. I am thankful I have this blog as an outlet for my feelings and creativity. I am thankful for Strawberry Yogurt Cheerios. I am thankful for baby naps. I am thankful my son is almost one. I am thankful for my family and friends that listen to me vent during difficult times. I am thankful for sunshine and windows. I am thankful I am not sitting behind gray cube walls. I am thankful for wagging tails. I am thankful for all the clothes and toys that have been handed down to my son. I am thankful for diaper pail deodorizers. I am thankful for Tide Free. I am thankful for first train rides and first hockey games. I am thankful that my asbestos friend moved back to Michigan. I am thankful that I have so much to be thankful for.
Time Machine
Do you ever wish you had a Time Machine to skip over a hard day? I sure do.
I could put on Facebook when my son is going into the hospital to have surgery (which seems like a form of medieval torture) to get sympathy and support. But I do not, for two reasons:
1. I don’t want thieves to go “Oh, she is at the hospital with her kid, let’s break into her house.” That would add insult to injury.
2. I may want to get a job someday, and I don’t want potential employers to know that my kid has racked up over $100,000 in medical bills this year, and counting.
I must be the wussiest parent ever. All the other parents in the pediatric pre-op waiting room seemed calm and composed. I was a freakin’ mess. I was freaking out for two main reasons:
1. I am afraid when I hold him before surgery it will be the last time I ever hold him. Surgery always has risks.
2. I feel like this will never end. I feel like my son will be 18 years old and we will still be going to the urologist every month for his dilated kidney. I would LOVE for the doctor to fix it and then we only have to have a test like once a year to make sure it stays on track.
* I secretly believe my son’s urologist is writing some groundbreaking article he will publish in a medical journal about my son’s unique complications and the doctor will make a ton of money off of it.
As my son screamed in the backseat, my overwhelming thought on the hour drive to the hospital for my son’s latest surgery was: I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to be an adult. I don’t want to be a parent. I can’t handle all this responsibility. Everyone has their limit of how much shit life can throw at them, and my son’s medical issues are bringing me very close to my limit.
Work Poems, from once upon a time when I had a job
poem time.
11/2/00
I know one day
I’ll be something
somewhere
doing something
happiness
money
challenges
are these too much to ask
There are a million roads
in front of me
But through the fog
of indecision
I cannot see any of them
The future
comes so slow
goes so fast
Changes with every
hand you shake
mistake you make
Every day I take
one little step
but for all I know
forallanyoneknows
I could be missing
what I was meant to be
but all I really want
to be
is just me.
we are doing work poems, are we?
11/2/00
Hi
How are you today
How was work
Oh
it was
too much
too little
too hard
too easy
it was
G-TECH
INITECH
ISI, EMC
do you see me?
it was
AS400
I-90
WD-40
ES9000
US223
do you have $5 for the bosses gift?
IN MAIL
OUT MAIL
EMAIL
broke broke broke
stuck stuck stuck
COMPAQ
MICROSOFT
BOWKER GILBARCO
my boss is such a retardo!
8:00pm SITCOM
8:30pm SITCOM
9:00pm DRAMA
10:00pm NEWS SHOW
11:00pm NEWS
set clock
close eyes
shut off clock
at 7:10
do it all again.
Feeling Strangled by a Pink Ribbon
Am I the only one bothered by the pink breast cancer ribbons on every product known to man? I have multiple problems with this campaign.
1. I try to believe in the Law of Attraction. What you think about most you will attract into your life. I don’t want my most prominent thoughts every day to be about cancer–any form of it. I do not want to attract cancer into my life in any way. This is the biggest reason this marketing bothers me.
2. I do not believe that all the proceeds from licensing the pink ribbon onto these products are going to cancer research. There are millions of products our there with the pink ribbon slapped on them. It seems like with so many robust funds being raised, that they could have found a cure by now.
Companies think that by slapping a pink ribbon on their product, it will increase the number of people buying it. That has the opposite effect on me, as I will go out of my way to find a different product to buy. If you want to support breast cancer, that is fine. Send your money to an established organization directly, so that you know they will actually receive and use your money. You can also use it as a tax deduction, instead of the potato chip company or the gardening glove company getting all the tax benefits. Or do the Avon 3-day (is it still called that?), where you can raise money for your cause and get physical benefits as well.
3. I choose which charities I support. I like to support the Lenawee Humane Society. Dogs are cute. And it is the humans’ fault that we have pet overpopulation, not the animals. I have been known to support a local food pantry. I just went shopping in support of Pajama Rama 2011, taking place Saturday, October 22nd at the Adrian Mall in Adrian, MI. Is there a better cause out there than collecting underwear and tolietries for homeless kids in Lenawee County? I don’t think so.
So, as you can see, I have my own charities that I support. So I don’t like being tricked or bullied into supporting others as well. I am not trying to be super-cynical. My mother & gramma both had (non-breast) cancer. I know it sucks. But I’m saying don’t fool yourself into thinking you are doing something good by buying a “Save the Ta-Tas” shirt. Try making dinner for the family of the closest person to you with the disease. It could mean a lot to them.
OMG, who is going to read this? What are they going to think of me? Is my blog just totally lame…
Anxiety: 1. the state of being anxious. 2. concern about an imminent danger, difficulty, etc.
Anxious: 1. uneasy in the mind.
I have anxiety. It often changes how I go about living my life, but I do the best I can to not be beat down by it. For people who don’t have it (or don’t have it in large quantities), it is probably hard for them to imagine what it is like.
My most recent example is that I wanted to buy two $5 gift cards from McDonald’s. I was afraid they would yell at me for not buying food too. Then I was afraid they would yell at me for only putting $5 on the gift cards. I ended up deciding to buy only one gift card, and I bought it at Meijer while I was already there so I wouldn’t have to face the anxiety of McDonald’s at all. (Of course, in all this I forgot that the people at McDonald’s aren’t paid enough to care about anything. That is a dig at McD’s, not at the employees.)
I have dealt with anxiety all my life. When I was younger, if I felt overwhelmed by anxiety, I cried. Which is why I got picked on in school (creating more anxiety, creating more crying, etc.). The prescription drug company commercials used to make me think I had depression (which I have had twice in my life), but that is not what I have every day. My friend had pretty serious anxiety too–maybe even more than me. But she went on prescription drugs and now that is no longer one of her biggest health issues. I don’t want to be a slave to doctors & pharmaceutical companies. I don’t want to deal with side effects. I don’t want to have to take a pill everyday for something that may only hit me a few times a week. Now, if there was “FAST-ACTING ANXIETY NOSE SPRAY FOR URGENT RELIEF”, I would be all over that. The most common time anxiety hits me is when I am trying to fall asleep. I have anxiety attacks about how I don’t want to be dead one day & cease to exist. Ugh, it is making my chect tighten & my stomach churn just to write it. Nose spray would really come in handy at these times.
Here is an excerpt from an old journal I recently found which provides a nice example:
Last night at the casino the food court was more like a cafeteria and I was scared to tell the grill guy that I wanted a cheeseburger. Then I was too scared to go up and get a refill. I just feel like everyone is always going to yell at me.
And no one has ever yelled at me for such things. Here is a poem from around the same time:
Worried
11/2/2000
I worry about things
I know about
I worry about things
I know nothing about
I worry about things
I have never done before
I worry about things
I do every day
I am beginning to feel
worried
that I worry
2much.
My husband doesn’t understand when I ask him to do something for me because I just cannot do it myself. This usually manifests as asking for help for something in a store and having to talk to a sales associate. Or giving my son a bath. I know that when I start the bath, if he starts crying or bumps his head or something, I can’t freak out and leave him in the bathtub naked. I have to finish the bath, no matter what, all the way through to putting on his PJs. And I find this scary. And too often I let my husband give him a bath because 1. he likes to & 2. I don’t have to overcome my anxiety to do it. Anxiety is probably one of the things that kept my mom at home throughout her twenties.
Sorry. Just felt like venting. I have been cleaning my house & unearthed some old poems/emails/journals that got me on this line of thinking. I wanted this blog to be a mish-mash of my life. And this is a big part of my life, even though many close to me do not know it.
I'm not stalking you. 