Category Archives: living

“Understanding me”

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“Understand me. I’m not like an ordinary world. I have my madness, I live in another dimension and I do not have time for things that have no soul.” ~ Charles Bukowski

I’ve done a lot of reflection, experienced great things, great people, and been part of some extraordinary projects and events even since my last post. Again, this is such a silent illness. If you know me in person you will rarely see me without a smile on my face. What is hard to admit is how many times I wanted to run or avoid any human interaction. I forced myself, not because it was for the experience, not for the social reward, but to make myself experience life. I do this because my family and my friends mean more than this thing I fight in my mind.

On social media, you only see the good and rarely the bad. I promise for every extraordinary experience, I’ve had a great fall from the over stimulation. It was never someone’s fault and I am thankful for the wonderful things I am blessed to be apart of socially and recreational. I am able to listen to everyone, hear everyone, remember, and listen. I do put together huge pictures in my head. It’s almost a curse, I pin and connect everything and have amazing epiphanies. People want to see other failures, it’s astonishing. I see it everyday, someone who volunteers and moves on to another endeavor is always criticized, success is criticize.

I connect the dots in my head and have an overwhelming sense of shame for knowing something I should not know, only because three or more people placed puzzle pieces via causal conversation. I was able to see it all completed, and it hurts me like a dagger upon completion of the puzzles in my head. I’ve found myself withdrawn from those whom I never wanted to finish the puzzles, but regrettably by forcing the smile and “living” it was inevitable.

As, Bukowski said above, “I do not have time for things that have no soul” and I shall not make my time available to be sucked dry of any hope I have to win the battles in my mind. I fight too hard everyday to erase, remember, and overcome the thoughts in my mind.

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle,” It’s questionable to the origins of the quote, was it Plato? Most likely Ian McClaren, but it is something we should all remember.  I am reminded daily by brief encounters, private messages, emails, or comments on wordpress that I am not alone and we are all very different, but….you are not alone.

Remember, you deserve understanding.

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Parenting through the blur

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“Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did – that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that – a parent’s heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”Debra Ginsberg

I enjoy every moment, occasionally I will complain about all the mommy chores. So many friends or facebook peeps complain constantly about the juggling act for various reasons. But, I remember this past summer struggling after moving. Changing all my doctors, trying to get my medication refilled. With each doctor, they rarely agreed on treatment plans. Each thinking they knew more than the other. So that left me in a pickle and found myself running out of my old medications. New doctor prescribing medications I’ve loathed and never worked, such as lithium again. So I found myself turned upside down, in a new town and state. I left behind my network I had built and people had just started to understand me and i’m relocated to a place to begin the cycle again. But as a mother, I put my children first and planned summer camps and summer sports for both kids before my appointments.  I delayed my own health to ensure they relocated and made friends. I’d find myself going to soccer practice and crying for no reason. Emotions completely unchecked, mood stabilizers not working. Sitting watching my kids play soccer. I would  remembered the times when I played outside carefree. I remember those moments and again I’d cry. It was just uncontrollable at times and and without rhyme or reason.

Even dealing with my problems and pretty sure some of the parents thought I was antisocial, it took everything to survive summer. Watching my kids play, helping them find friends, and trying my best to hide my mood imbalance, not to mention anxiety of all these new strangers. I wasn’t sleeping at all for various reasons. Watching all the kids reminded me of the ones I have lost and even more thankful for the amazing ones playing on the soccer field, I sat and cried. I wasn’t being antisocial, I was protecting these new parents from meeting that person. Somehow the stigma of people with mental health problems can cause others who do not understand to protect themselves and children from what they don’t understand. It’s a circle of protection. I’m protecting my kids, I’m protecting myself, and I’m protecting potential friends from knowing this person.

Eventually I survived the weekly blood draws, the medication changes, and surprisingly avoided the hospital. I worried what people thought if they noticed the needle bruises, sometime it took 4 or 5 times to give blood. I survived summer and got back on the very cocktail of medications I love to hate, but work.

I try not to talk much about what meds I take because I don’t want others thinking, “I need that because she’s awesome” when behind closed doors I’m not awesome all the time. I have a condition with no cure that makes me awesome, not my medication. It’s like Ironman and batman need their suits to be superheroes. This mom needs her meds to control her superpower and be my children’s superhero. It’s what helps me be awesome. I want people to know and understand mental illness.

 

You can always reach out to me if you’d like a dialogue or have questions. I’m not a professional, nor would I give medical advice. I just share my experiences with my blog andon my Facebook page www.facebook.com/itsnotcrazytoday A valuable tool  is wonderful to have interact on my page or via messenger. Invite friends to like the page too. Keep the dialog open! 

 

My Top 6 Books about Mental Illness

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Absolutely great list and post to read and books to check out

Hello May, Birthday month, musing on aging gracefully

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“She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. ‘Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water.” – Roman Payne

I love growing older. As I age, each year I notice subtle changes in my body and appearance. I’ve grown to love myself even at my darkest. I complain about my weight, wrinkles, and body like any other woman. Unlike most women I feel more complete each year. My crows feet draw attention to my eyes and adds character. The weathered experienced look, as if I’ve lived too much; In reality, I lived too much, laughed too much, lost too much, and cried too much. I wish they were caused solely by laughter. People tell me I’m beautiful now and it very flattering. But, let me tell you about about my beauty.

I grew up being the ugly duckling. It’s hard growing up with boys, I had two brothers and my neighbor, all boys that I also considered my brothers. As you might imagine at critical times in the developmental years they weren’t as free with compliments. It’s possibly another reason I love Roman Payne’s, The Wanderess, “She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs.” That was me, but I was always alone. My brothers did the usual, you’re ugly, you’re fat, or my favorite was “Bertha butt” since I have always had a nice round butt and thighs. Looking back at pictures, I had a beautiful body. I’ve always had the pinup body, but as a kid in my head I  was ugly and fat. I don’t hold it against them now, but in my youth it hurt me deeply and it changed the way I dressed and covered body.
I would quickly get very dark skin from my mother’s American Indian heritage and straight black hair. It would reflect blue like a raven in the light. I found myself lightening, getting perms to curl, and doing various things to make it look like the other kids. I never told anyone, I just begged for a perm, curls, or some sort of chemical treatment to change it so I wouldn’t be teased. I wanted to look trendy, like other girls. Those things lightened my hair to a dark brown all because the straight black was just unnatural and I was teased. I was teased about my skin, my hair, my curves. I worked hard to change my appearance.  I wanted to be pretty, but made myself uglier in the process of fitting in with the girls.
So I always stayed active, involved, but withdrawn. So it  may be surprising to some to learn how incredibly ugly I felt thought my childhood years, even in my various uniforms which made me like the others. I never appreciated myself.

It wasn’t until I turned 20, I lived in Japan for several years. It was the different culture, that changed my view on aging. Aging is beautiful, I regret not being myself as a kid, it was learning I was beautiful not only on the outside, but the inside in a foreign country. It was at the end of my time in Japan bipolar slammed into me like a freight train. It possibly aged me ten more year in a single moment. But I did not fight it, I embraced it. I because free, happier, I was pretty and back in the United States. I had found myself, but I also found my superpower and did not know one thing about controlling my mind.
Aging for me, has been like being reborn each year. I feel unrecompensed with each passing year. Closer to something, closer to completely understanding myself and I welcome my birthday’s. With age, I’ve learned I’m attractive, intelligent, funny, intellectual, sexual, compassionate, complex, and introspective. Because of the experiences of my past, I honestly appreciate each and every compliment and even the negative compliments. It’s made me able to be modest and a more compassionate person. Modesty is rare in today’s society. It’s also recently made me brutally honest. That is what this birthday is going to celebrate. Being honest, telling my stories, and sharing my experiences.

It may appear, it’s been a beautiful ride, but my history and mileage learning to control the speed of my superpower, called Bipolar, with a bit of all the other crap included many training wreaks. Mental illness isn’t something you shouldn’t be ashamed of and I hope if you’re reading this, no matter your age don’t be ashamed for a second.

“’Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water.” – Roman Payne

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“Mental labels don’t define who I am, time and aging only gets me closer to those I love, will love, and have loved” ~ S.L. Cato

Full moon rising, are you?

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“I fancied my luck to be witnessing yet another full moon. True, I’d seen hundreds of full moons in my life, but they were not limitless. When one starts thinking of the full moon as a common sight that will come again to one’s eyes ad-infinitum, the value of life is diminished and life goes by uncherished. ‘This may be my last moon,’ I sighed, feeling a sudden sweep of sorrow; and went back to reading more of The Odyssey.” ~ Roman Payne

*I adore Roman Payne if you’re not familiar with his works, he writes with such sexual energy, poetic and translates his passion and character’s passion in his books. His awareness, portrayal, and understanding of mental conditions are beautifully displayed in his book “The Wanderess”.

So back on topic, his quote struck a cord and sparked this blog post. Each month I look forward to the full moon. I read many articles and today ran across this one I’m sharing, It was an excellent article regarding lunacy and effects on mental health. It contains some great theories listed throughout the article from some of our greatest philosophers and psychologist discuss the theories based on my opinion outdated research from the 1980’s. I love the historical content, great article.

Read for yourself here:
http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/lunacy-and-the-full-moon/

I firmly believe it affects my cycles and moods. I’m one who can’t sleep and have a fascination with the full moon,  honestly the moon in general. It one of my many obcessions. It affect the earth, living creatures, and even plants. Why would it not affect us as well?

I get a surge of energy, elevated mood even with medication I can feel it happening. I’ve actually charted my moods. It can be argued it psychosomatic, but over the years and experience with others it seems Lunacy is real, yet still only a theory. I’m curious to hear from others. What is your experience or feelings on the subject? Do you experience mood changes?

How to enjoy being introverted…with some mad women steps….

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How to enjoy being introverted…with some mad women steps….

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Let’s explore how I reset and enjoy the healthy time alone.

1. Learn to observer and watch people. It’s simple, watch children play and interact. Sit in the bar or group and listen. It’s much the same. Listen, don’t talk, unless spoken too.

2. Enjoy your time alone. It’s rare, turn off every device in the house for 20 minutes. Everything, phone, WiFi, televisions. Actually, go find the breaker box main switch and flip it off (turn the usuals off before doing this), you’ll instantly feel peace. It’s a strange sensation. Close your eyes and feel the lack of WiFi and electricity…..you will feel it if you shut it all off.

3. Learn to talk to yourself. You can always be kind to yourself. Learn to appreciate what your mind tells you in silence. Many times I’ve ignored what I knew or I should have done only to have my mind tell me, “I told you so”. So it’s worth listening and talking to yourself. No one will ever love you or listen to you like yourself.

4. Volunteer! You can do the smallest thing and change a life. But you do it on your own, you don’t do it to seek recognition. You just do something that helps others selfishly.

5. Decide you’re going to learn a skill or project. Complete it! I wanted to learn electrical repair. Several vocational classes and yours truly can fixed a toaster, wire a lamp, or do general household repairs. It was so rewarding, I continued with woodworking, plumbing, and auto repair. I’m a bit obsession so don’t use me as an example.

6. Make a list. I hate list, but make an agenda of things you want to accomplish before bed. Make sure the first this on your list is MAKE YOUR BED. Trust me, if you don’t make your bed you’ve screwed up the list. Make your bed, you’ll feel a sense of accomplishment and then that first thing is checked off your list.

7. This is by far my hell on earth task, working out. Yes, workout! Walk 30 minutes, yoga, run, or what ever your vice….even sex. I prefer the latter. Sex count.

8. Do something completely alone. I’ll go to the movies, bookstore, and then have a drink and dinner while writing in my journal, ALONE! It is possibly, my best advice if you’re a mom or dad with a schedule. Plan a run away monthly!

9. Approach and engage strangers and be genuinely interested. I’ve learned so much about people just by removing the stigma of societies norm. I’ve made some of the best and life long friends whom I don’t think I could live without if not for letting go of my preconceived impressions based on societies normal. I’m in a military community, so normal is pretty straight laced.

10. Set goals, writing it down and put it in an envelope. In one year, I will have….? Next one, In 5 and 10 years. It can be big, it can be as simple as I’ll stop biting my nails. But, when you open that envelope you’re rewarding yourself. Do monthly envelopes! It’s goals with the satisfaction, you put it in writing and you accomplished something for yourself, not someone else. You discover and achieved it for yourself.

That is my alone time. That is how I’m alone and not defined by anyone else.

Falling in love with the Moon

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“Love is a serious mental disease.”

— Plato

Some times, I do like to write a bit about those little things off the wall. Tonight, it’s really obsession, falling in love and also of the idea of the unreachable goal. I have fallen in love with the moon. I’ve fallen in love with things that burn me.

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I speak of unreachable goals, because some may argue all goals are achievable. It certainly not true, but worth ever second to try to reach the moon. Love for some may seem unreachable, but it’s achievable. Some things are worth the chase, worth the wait, and certainly worth the risk.

I read blog and books now everyday, now obsessively. I set aside a few hours and really get to be inside others peoples minds for that time. A few, I’ve really fallen in love with as they write and post on blogs, others in books, I’ve started. I love writers and poets. I have fallen in love with dead authors and have this fantasy of them writing about me, because as to quote Mik Everett, “If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.” Maybe I never died and live as a character in my classics. Maybe a muse, an inspiration for a character in a classic. I love the writers and the poets. I’ve formed an obsession with the simple and the complex.

“You don’t love because: you love despite; not for the virtues, but despite the faults.” William Faulkner

And no matter what, I shall end with a classic story and movie quote.

“Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”
— The Princess Bride

I am certain, I’ve touch the moon. It was once unreachable.

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Popped my cherry throwing disc and banging chains

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Best day ever!  It’s like finding money in the dryer or a jean pocket, but the joy keeps going and you are constantly being uplifted. Yesterday was one of those days. No anxiety or panic, no sadness, no flashbacks, no racing thoughts, no tears, nothing over the top. Just a blank canvas day, that ended up a beautiful picture.

My blank canvas didn’t involve winning the lottery or anything of grandeur. It simply involved waking up to two beautiful kids who let mom sleep, started the house chores, and my oldest made breakfast without burning the house down. When I finally woke up, a bit foggy forgetting the kids were even home on spring break. I walk downstairs and head directly for the coffee pot. From the other room two little heads pop up, “Hi Mom! Good morning!” I yawn and think to myself how awesome of them to let me sleep and go on autopilot. Then almost as if they planned the timing together they asked, “Mom, is today the day you have your friends teach us to play Disc Golf?”  I responded with my normal noncommittal, “We’ll see, mommy needs her coffee first.” This is a protective response from me when I don’t want to let them down. Two reasons, I needed to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and second I knew this activity required a commitment from friends to teach them to play. I hate when I let down my kids, but to have someone else let them down physically hurts.

Bit of a backtrack, I decided months ago I needed to take back up a hobby such as golf. I was really good at one time and really remember it being fun and therapeutic. Then, I ran across Disc golf, I was immediately intrigued. Disc golf is where you throw a flying disc at a target like chained basket, the fun is scored like golf and based on precision and accuracy on a 18 basket courses. Win, win for me, no hauling balls or golf clubs, just a bag of various discs. I loved it instantly and quickly became obsessed with the concept and game. This was going to be my new sport. I shall master it and shared this with my kids. Who watched Vine and YouTube videos that a friend had sent, over and over. They wanted to learn too!

Back to best day ever, “We’ll see” I tell the kids and I sent text to my friend. He’s, a disc golf junkie and jumped at the opportunity to teach the kids and myself. We meet at the park, I knew instantly his passion and obsession with the sport made him the perfect guy.  Plus, he was a bit of a kid himself so the kids loved him and the sport.

Peter couldn’t figure out if he was left or right handed thrower. This took some time since he is ambidextrous. Eventually, he threw it, just somehow backwards each time. When advised to run into it and throw, Peter literally ran 25ft forward then threw. Peter, always the one to look for the cheat.

Turns out Rowan was really good! She was a natural. Not only did she throw really well, she was noticed by some of the local disc golf  players in the league who encouraged her to join the league and play in a tournament next month. They said she probably win. That was really cool and a huge encouragement for her. She sometimes needs encouragement and this came from one of the best female players locally.

As for the mad woman, well I threw, but kept getting my butt kicked by my daughter and dodging Peters crazy Ivins. Try to not scare our new friend with our multiple personalities. Not only did we learn to play. My daughter found something she loves. Peter was still frolicking tossing, then came home to tell stories to his friend about how he plays disc golf like a boss. I found my new hobby and made great friendships.

In retrospect today, I had a day without let downs, a day away from society. It was therapeutic. It was the perfect day. I was again, a new “normal” for the day.

See, it’s not always crazy.

Unexpected outcomes

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Sometimes I just get this crazy obsession for a certain foods or spices. Today it was for Thai food, it’d been at least two weeks since I had had a meal from my favorite local spot. It was a hidden gem I’d run to and was always amazing. So excitingly, I load up the kids and we are on our way for the most delicious Thai food. I didn’t care if the kids were arguing or my 11 year old feels she is the enforcer and boss of my 6 year old.  Today, I was not going to scream “Stop” a million times. Today was my treat! Today would include delicious food porn on my blog, it will not be crazy!

As we arrived and parked, I made sure the rules were clear, “BE good, NO fighting, mommy needs to be fed!” Walking towards the door something was off and they appeared closed. From my side, my little man Peter says, “Mom, I’m pretty sure they are closed for good” And sure enough, a real estate sign, It was closed forever.  Then the kids had a brilliant idea, “Mom, let’s go to your favorite Korean restaurant.”

“Yes!” That will do, so on the interstate we go, if you’re not familiar with Northern Virginia traffic consider yourself blessed. I-95 is hell going south or north on any given day, but I’m determined to eat out and now it’s just painful listening to the kids argue. “MOM!, make her give me to poop emoji pillow back.” “MOM! I didn’t touch him” and so on until we reach the exit.  As we pull into the parking lot to my favorite Korean restaurant something isn’t right and this time I spot the sign immediately, closed and another real estate sign. I lay me head on the wheel, quietly I say “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

Apparently, not quite enough. Out of my Peter 6 year old mouth, “Mom, Chuck E Cheese now serves beer and wine” Did my kid just tell me the germ factory served alcohol? How did I not know they served alcohol? Heck, I know where I’ll have my next birthday, maybe even my 40th in many, many years to come, I’ve been 29-35 for several years. I could only laugh that my kids thought that I would get them pizza or the fact they knew Chucky Cheese was near the Korean restaurant. My kids had manipulated me into going to Chucky E Cheese with the suggestion they now serve alcohol.

Yes, I’m that mom drinking a beer at Chuck E Cheese getting her Chuck E Cheese photo ID’s made, playing games with no mercy before noon. Before you judge me, I drank one beer and kicked little kid ass for over an hour. I may have cheated and swiped some tickets from the little people. Just the ones who didn’t pay attention, life lesson kids, pay attention to the crazy lady. But overall, I got a squirt gun, sticky slappy hand thing, some silly puddy, and woopie cushion. All these these things are part of the plan for manic black cat of darkness revenge. You can use you imagination, but two can at play “sniper” cat, the game of surprise attack cat! It only cost me a little over $100 to eat and play games…..totally worth it for the entire family!

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Meditation, play by play fail

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So I was told meditation is amazing to slow your mind, ease your worries, and soothe your soul. So hello google and youtube, I’m now a subject matter expert. Kids are in school and I need to learn to self soothe. Let’s do this!

Step 1: Sit or lie comfortably

I sit my pretty little butt down trying to not think. Then I start thinking, “did it say how I should sit or lie?”, “Is the door locked”, “I really need to be doing laundry” “I guess I could just masturbate”

Step 2: Close your eyes

Eye are closed, success! Eyes are closed! “Why is it so hard to keep my eyeballs from straining?” Suddenly dog jumps on me, “Stupid dog, go away I am f*cking meditating”

Step 3: Make no effort to control breath; simply breathe naturally.

I’m now laying, not sitting anymore eyes closed and thinking “Is this natural breathing?” “Why am I over thinking breathing?” “Keep your eyes closed and stop thinking….why the hell is the cat now rubbing and purring on me, ugh. Did you forget you hate me cat!?!?”  “Stop thinking about sex” “Focus!”

Step 4: Focus your attention, blah blah blah. Breathing more blah blah blah. Body movement and more breathing ramblings. This is basically the meditate step.

Cats gone, dog is in the floor. All is peaceful, I just might do this meditate thing. Eyes closed, I hear the sounds of regurgitation from the dog. I think, “meditate, ignore dog. Breathe naturally”. As I hear the dog move around room, obviously puking, the doorbell rings. At that moment, dog forgets about puking to run barking like a rabid dog to kill the door.

I open my eyes to see that the dog decided to walk around to puke, disgusting. Checked outside, no one is there. I clean up after the dog. Cat runs a sniper attack on my head as I clean and the phone is ringing. Yay, it’s the school nurse, I have a sick kid. I laughed as she talked and just told her I’d be there to pick him up soon.

My conclusion, meditation and the bipolar mind is nearly impossible. But you know what is soothing, involves bed, and eyes rolling back in your head. Yep, sex!

The year I ruined Christmas….well technically

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I briefly lost faith that Santa, in my head was the guy above in the picture, the weird mall Santa, the bell ringer at walmart.

I was 8 years old and decided I’d catch Santa in the act of coming down the chimney and delivering our presents. My older brother who was 10 and my younger brother 6 at the time were already in bed asleep. And that’s when I had a BRILLIANT idea! Who needs to catch Santa in the act when you can manipulate the entire situation?

It was GENUIS, I woke up early and ensured everything Santa had brought….well the good stuff, was moved to my stocking. It was fail proof,  who’s going to question Santa? I’ll have a whole year to get off the naughty list. So I executed my plan and went back to bed knowing it’ll be the best Christmas EVER.

Morning came and everyone jumped up to rush to the fireplace. I smiled ear to ear delighted in how smooth my plan was has executed. As we checked our stocking, I was shocked I got everything. Simply shocked and delighted with my new things. My brothers both immediately shocked and couldn’t believe Santa gave me everything started to scream for Mom. I smiled and reminded them, I was the favorite and had been very good this year. Better luck next year, suckers!

Then enters Mom, barely awake and at a loss for words. Then Dad came into the room, I immediately knew I was in deep shit from the look in his eyes. As mom, created an excuse for Santa’s  mistake. I was taken and reminded what it feels like to have a leather belt taken to my butt. To this day on Christmas morning I can feel the sting of the belt. You don’t mess with Santa at any age. Pretty sure that was the last year he gave me what I wanted other than socks, shoes, or necessities.

For the record, I’m good now and ran into him on vacation at Disney world a couple years ago. This was the real Santa, not all his helpers, but good old Saint Nick from the Noth pole and the Macy’s Christmas parade. Turns out I’m permanently on the naughty list, but he did find it to be the best con ever.

Lesson: You just don’t mess with Santa, even his helpers.

The past and ghost that returns to haunt me

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In a moment, I close my eyes and feel a soul touching my own. I can feel the pinch of a corset rubbing my side next to my chest where I have a birth mark now. I suddenly itch like crazy from starched lace and wool. I can feel another lifetime in front of me and a warmth near my lips. Perhaps my lover has returned to kiss me while I’m in a deep trance. Suddenly, I shift from Renaissance to the roaring twenties, and again to possibly a war zone hospital. It’s the smell of this moment. The rusty smell of blood and burn flesh. Then just like that a kiss felt upon my lips I flush and open my eyes.

It made me think of something and maybe it’s pretty thought provoking. I haven’t spoke to anyone yet who suffers on the spectrum of bipolar disorder who hasn’t felt a pull to another era. There may be connection between old souls, past lives, and reincarnation and mental illness.

Let me explain my feelings, but before you ask….yes I took my meds. I feel my soul is tired at times. I’ll watch an old period movie and my soul will spring to life with excitement. I am drawn to the a couple periods in time. My dreams are also usually in these various  periods and rarely do I have a dream about my life now. I have trouble retaining memories in this lifetime, but I can tell you for certain I’ve experienced deja vu with places, things, objects, and people. Sometimes the connection is so strong it reminds me that my soul has not given up.

I wonder if my soul is just tired and failed to upload completely, I need a reboot. They say right before you die there is a single moment of rapid brain activity. Many believe this is the moment your life flashes before you, but what if thats the moment is your soul is uploading like a computer. Whatever your religious beliefs its doing something maybe uploading to heaven, hell, or just maybe you have another lifetime that you need to live before you reach the final destination.

It’s nice to have memories and dreams that don’t seem to belong to me and a ghost as a lover. In a musing of a mad woman way, it’s a beautiful mind.

My affair with a ghost

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I am madly in love with a ghost and he encourages me to write our story. Then I remembered, dammit This is movie and she was writing his story to save her ass so they could stay together.  I watched it half asleep. This tale has already been told in 1947. You can read a synopsis here:

The ghost and Mrs Muir 1947

Sometimes, I feel like my ghost is aloof. Maybe he has a ghost girlfriend or worst a ghost wife. He wouldn’t be cheating if he was happy. He visits me like a mistress, but gives me unconditional love when he is present. He makes me think and control my demons, my jealousy, my inpulses, my depression. It hurts that I can only love him and  guide him on his journey until I join him. He’s completely nuts, because he know I’m married but hey why would my husband be jealous of a ghost. He’s unbelievably sexy and carries his soul in his eyes.  I just have to live for the days or dreams he makes himself appear. I am certain we were lovers in a past lifetime.

I’ll write more about my ghost affair in the future, but for now you need to watch the movie.  I love watching old black and white movies. Love affairs that relied on correspondence, test of time, and separation with no cellphones and no computers. Just pure emotions on paper.

But hey, I’ve got a ghost boyfriend who appreciates my beautiful mind now. This blog is musings of a mad woman.

The universe has a f*cked up sense of humor today

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So today I’ve either got the greatest guardian angel watching over me or one hell of a prankster guardian angel who just needed to fucking color today.

It started as a normal Monday, get the kids up, dressed, feed, and off to school. I’m just looking forward to my relaxing cup of coffee when everyone is out the door. So the kids are off without fail, success…I got this. Shortly after, husband rushes out the door and I brew the nectar of the gods and sit to enjoy a perfect cup of coffee while catching my morning news. Sounds perfect huh…..but before it touches my lips the front door opens with my husband alerting me my tire is completely flat on my car. No big deal, I GOT this! I don’t have anything to do until noon and it’s to pick a friend up at the Airport in Washington DC, so easy I’ll take his truck and he can ride his motorcycle….i’ve got this and it’s not that bad. So I sit down to drink my coffee when I hear swearing from the garage. It’s my husband, who for the life of me has no mechanical skills swearing at his motorcycle. Again I got this…., he comes in to ask me to help. At this point I’m aggravated I have to do the handy man task, but I sit my coffee down and proceed to fix his motorcycle. I’m the handyman of the household. Another great story for another time, but I took many vocational classes on various skills when I was younger. So easy fix and he’s off to work, I’m at this point irritated, but again I got this and I’m going to have coffee and relax.  It’s not that bad, I am determined to have a happy day.

So my car has a flat, frustrated because  I need and want to fix it I shower and put it off for later in the afternoon after I get my friend home. So I throw on comfy baggy boyfriend jeans, the ones that are unbelievably comfortable but not appropriate because of the rips and stains, a tshirt and faded denim button up. Actually, I was probably trending with the hipster crowd. I even choose to wear flip flops today because why not? The universe smiled, probably laughed unbeknownst to me for what was planned. I put my pretty little ass behind the the wheel of my truck and off I went until not even a mile from my house the front tire just pops and completely blows out. Fortunately, It happened where I could safely pull off the road.

AGAIN I GOT THIS UNIVERSE! I text my friend I wouldn’t make it to airport and my husband my misfortune. I then proceed to exit me car and see the damage….tired shredded. So as any good southern girl would do I proceed to change my tire in flip flops.  As I’m under the back end of my truck getting the spare untethered from the bottom. I hear a motorcycle pull up and there was the arrival of my husband and soon the police just to make sure I’m okay, ugh. At least, my husband said my tits looked good. They all told me to stop and let the roadside assistance come and fix the tire, but I was determined because dammit “I got this” and just want everyone to go away.

We’ll everyone did go away….3 hours later and a flat spare. I sat defeated in a Subway eating a tuna sandwich. Hands still a bit dirty but dammit I wasn’t going to be defeated. Spare was inflated…with the help of roadside assistance *insert eyeroll* and here I sat eating a sub while my truck gets it new tires at the firestone. Stupid asshole car! Stupid asshole truck! Fuck you universe!

I am going home to drink my damn cold coffee now! You won! Touche my friend…..Touche

It’s certainly not crazy

Ode to the great black box of wine

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So if you haven’t heard Black box wine is a award winning box wine. 50 gold medals, 29 wine enthusiasts best buy awards. Definitely an enabler for shenanigans.

I am 1/2 the carbon footprint of glass bottles, so I am hoping Leonardo DiCaprio appreciates I’m doing my part to save the environment. Cabernet Sauvignon is probably the best, but honestly after a glass who really cares enough to ask “what is this vintage, variety?”

So how is this a story……anytime I precursor a post with wine it’s probably going to be thought provoking. If I start it with whiskey, it’s going to start PG-13 and as with drinking end up MA rating. I just want to make my readers aware of time stamps on my post, take note. Right now, I’m comparing a smooth glass of opus one to box wine and it really seems equatable.  That is a true musing of a mad woman.

It’s certainly not crazy

I just want to f*cking color

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 “I just want to fucking color”

At age 3 the world is an amazing place. Full of the unexpected, every minute is filled with hundreds of new sights, sounds, and smells. Imagine if you could turn it off for a few minutes. Peter did just that on this day. I learned probably one of the applicable statement for living from a disobedient child who genuinely just wanted to finish a task.

It’s a short story, at the height of one of my manic episodes so he spent the day in daycare so I could get that amazing tattoo I needed (story for later). My husband arrived to pick up our 3 year old and was pulled aside by his teacher. She questioned him a bit about whom he spends time around because of his vocabulary. She preceded to explain he had used the “F” word. Of course, embarrassed my husband took responsibility and assured her it would never happen again. See, my husband and I are Marines and honestly fuck is second nature. But it was honestly my inability to censor myself. She proceeded to tell the story. It was nap time and all the kids were instructed to clean up their stations. Everyone followed the routine, except Peter. Peter continued to color in complete silence and zen. Nothing in the world was better than just coloring at that moment. When told he had to nap Peter responded, “I just want to fucking color”. He was calm, but stern. All he wanted was to finish his task, do what he enjoyed.

I think about that on many occasions. I just want to fucking color. I think we all just want to color. We strive to find that on thing we love and without someone telling us how to do it or that we should stop. We all are really trying to achieve that peace and balance.

We all just want to fucking color.