I have been volunteering in Charlie's classroom on Tuesdays. Mostly because my parents always modeled the importance of being involved in your kids' schools, and by God, if I am going to be judged based upon my children it is going to be for inappropriate parenting, not uninvolvement in their classrooms.
I like going in and working with the first graders, helping them do things such as form more coherent sentences than our commander in chief is apparently able to and differentiating between long o and short o. Of course, Charlie gets a kick out of me being in there because I am still cool in her eyes. All to change in the next few years, I am sure, because Alexis sure as hell is sliding into "my mom is embarrassing as fuck" territory at an alarming rate.
Most days, this is mundane and routine and I leave and drive to work, no problem. Today was not one of those days.
The fire alarm went off.
It has been documented that I have a propensity to attract fire and apparently have magical dragon powers, minus the scales. I've not talked yet about how meaningful fire alarms are to my family, mostly because I keep forgetting to do so, but just know that they are. Most of the time, fire alarms are a good thing for us (minus, of course, any actual fire. That would be bad, probably.).
Except.
Valentine's Day, 2018. Florida.
Those kids in Charlie's class, man. They had no fucking clue that when that alarm went off, I was internally freaking. Now, the teachers seemed to know that there was going to be a fire drill that day (do they tell teachers this shit in advance? I hope so cause that would really suck to be in art class taking a cast of your arm or some shit and have to haul ass outside dragging that with you...). But...will there forever be that lingering doubt in their minds, that there is some asshole with a gun waiting out there to pick them all off? What about times when the alarm goes off, because some kid pulls it, or God forbid, there is a real fire? Will there always be that doubt in the back of their minds that they are actually going to safety, or to their worst nightmare?
What the fuck? What the actual fuck? How are we OK with this? How is it OK for a scenario that would (let's be honest, here, cause it's me and I am a bit crazy...) normally just be my own personal crazy running through my head be an actual, possible, real life thing? Hell, I freak out hearing an ambulance internally, convinced that my husband and/or children are dead. It used to be hell working next to the hospital, when life flight came by and every single time I'd panic on the inside, thinking that maybe this time Charles really lit himself on fire good, or one of the kids fell and broke their neck on the playground, or, or....
Those are not realistic thoughts. I am fully, 100% aware of this, and dear sweet mother of God if I could control them even starting in the first place I would. But the fact that a shooter could pull an alarm and pick off my children, and everyone else's children...this actually happened. THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED.
I look at those survivors from Florida. You know, the kids that people decry as lazy. As disconnected from actual human interaction. As entitled, spoiled brats. They are charging full speed ahead and making their voices heard, even as people try to discredit them as "too young". These "too young" people have gone through hell because of the adults around them failing to act. And I have to admit, I am ashamed to be an adult right now. We failed these kids. We failed to recognize that perhaps an 18 year old is NOT mature enough to purchase an AR as their brain is not even fully developed until age 25. We failed to acknowledge that domestic violence is a HUGE red flag for mass shootings. We failed to protect the very future of this country, our most precious resources, because it is not financially wise for politicians to do so if they want to further their careers.
We failed. And until this country is willing to accept and acknowledge this...I fear that we will continue to fail. And that, my friends, is a scary, scary prospect. The stakes are too high. For all of us.
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Friday, February 2, 2018
Caring
I suck at self-care.
Therapists can be this way, surprisingly. In fact, I once had a client tell me my life must be great because I know all of the coping skills and how to parent. I chuckled and gently corrected him, but on the inside was like "Dude, if you only fucking knew..." Therapists are people too, you know. And also, it's probably good that most people, clients especially, can't hear my inner monologue.
Life has been incredibly crazy around here (as evidenced by the fact that there is no blog post for January of this year.) We decided, rather abruptly, because of course major life decisions should be made with little planning or a timeline, to put an offer on a house and put ours up for sale. We now have until March 12 to get rid of the house we are currently in...during the winter months...a house that we were supposed to be in for about 5 years but then the economy happened and 13 years later, we are here in a house we have done very little updating to and that we have little to no equity in (because of course we bought at the peak of the real estate market, right before the crash that made us go 30K upside down on the house practically overnight...). Oh, and let's not forget that I technically have been self employed for less than two years full time so OF COURSE my income can't be counted in a new loan, which really limits things for us.
I thought this was going to be a good idea how, again?
Anyways, we are doing that and trying to keep a house show ready with two children and two dogs and no garage is super fun, much in the same way that getting your cervix checked while in labor is fun. Sure, there might be whack jobs that enjoy it, get off on it even (hell, there are women who orgasm when they give birth...) but the majority of the population going through it really think it sucks monkey balls but you do it because the end result is usually worth it.
Competition season has also started to gear up, which means lots of money spent, tripping from hair spray inhalation and the fumes sequins and fake eyelash glue give off, and copious amounts of coffee. Except for...I started seeing a functional medicine doctor and I am on this crazy ass diet to try to eliminate food sensitivities and they told me I have to stop drinking coffee and to start to wean myself off of it. I also am not allowed any alcohol. Or sugar. Or grains. Or most fruits.
Elizabeth asked if this doctor has any regard for the people I have to live with.
I am also currently working two jobs still, albeit ones I love, but again I'm working 7 days a week, most weeks. It will be worth it in the long run (I hope...) but my God, life is crazy right now.
So back to self-care. I suck at it. But I was seeing the toll on myself. Crappy ass sleep (well, crappier than usual). Constantly aching body. Headaches. Out of control anxiety, and depression and irritability. Constantly living in a state of overwhelmed-ness and futile efforts to get caught up.
It sucked.
So I decided to change something. I obviously am not backing out of the housing situation, because I really make it a point to avoid getting sued if at all possible, in all areas of my life. Plus, even if we don't sell the house, we can start looking for land to build on in a year or two and I'm OK with that option as well. Competition is another thing that I am not backing off of, either, because it has been so good for Alexis and not gonna lie, I rock that dance mom shit like a mofo. Two jobs, also not changing unless something picks up and I suddenly get overflowing at the practice I own. Running has been sporadic, but mostly due to the horridly cold weather and snow and lack of plowing the streets out here. That will resume on a more regular basis, soon I hope. Or I might buy some Yak Tracks.
The functional medicine doctor was the first step. I'm trying to get myself to the point of not being constantly sick. I don't want my kids to remember me like that. I found a therapist, so hopefully I can stop feeling like I am going to crawl out of my own skin. I got a new haircut, that now forces me to go in every month to get a trim because if I don't I end up looking like I let my dogs style my hair for me. This is another thing I actively try to avoid. I have been actively trying to engage in my hobbies more.
In short, I am doing every single thing that I would tell a client to do (except of course, find a therapist, because they already have me and I rock. Duh.) And here is the real kicker....
That shit works.
Who'd a thunked it?
Therapists can be this way, surprisingly. In fact, I once had a client tell me my life must be great because I know all of the coping skills and how to parent. I chuckled and gently corrected him, but on the inside was like "Dude, if you only fucking knew..." Therapists are people too, you know. And also, it's probably good that most people, clients especially, can't hear my inner monologue.
Life has been incredibly crazy around here (as evidenced by the fact that there is no blog post for January of this year.) We decided, rather abruptly, because of course major life decisions should be made with little planning or a timeline, to put an offer on a house and put ours up for sale. We now have until March 12 to get rid of the house we are currently in...during the winter months...a house that we were supposed to be in for about 5 years but then the economy happened and 13 years later, we are here in a house we have done very little updating to and that we have little to no equity in (because of course we bought at the peak of the real estate market, right before the crash that made us go 30K upside down on the house practically overnight...). Oh, and let's not forget that I technically have been self employed for less than two years full time so OF COURSE my income can't be counted in a new loan, which really limits things for us.
I thought this was going to be a good idea how, again?
Anyways, we are doing that and trying to keep a house show ready with two children and two dogs and no garage is super fun, much in the same way that getting your cervix checked while in labor is fun. Sure, there might be whack jobs that enjoy it, get off on it even (hell, there are women who orgasm when they give birth...) but the majority of the population going through it really think it sucks monkey balls but you do it because the end result is usually worth it.
Competition season has also started to gear up, which means lots of money spent, tripping from hair spray inhalation and the fumes sequins and fake eyelash glue give off, and copious amounts of coffee. Except for...I started seeing a functional medicine doctor and I am on this crazy ass diet to try to eliminate food sensitivities and they told me I have to stop drinking coffee and to start to wean myself off of it. I also am not allowed any alcohol. Or sugar. Or grains. Or most fruits.
Elizabeth asked if this doctor has any regard for the people I have to live with.
I am also currently working two jobs still, albeit ones I love, but again I'm working 7 days a week, most weeks. It will be worth it in the long run (I hope...) but my God, life is crazy right now.
So back to self-care. I suck at it. But I was seeing the toll on myself. Crappy ass sleep (well, crappier than usual). Constantly aching body. Headaches. Out of control anxiety, and depression and irritability. Constantly living in a state of overwhelmed-ness and futile efforts to get caught up.
My hair looks way better, though.
It sucked.
So I decided to change something. I obviously am not backing out of the housing situation, because I really make it a point to avoid getting sued if at all possible, in all areas of my life. Plus, even if we don't sell the house, we can start looking for land to build on in a year or two and I'm OK with that option as well. Competition is another thing that I am not backing off of, either, because it has been so good for Alexis and not gonna lie, I rock that dance mom shit like a mofo. Two jobs, also not changing unless something picks up and I suddenly get overflowing at the practice I own. Running has been sporadic, but mostly due to the horridly cold weather and snow and lack of plowing the streets out here. That will resume on a more regular basis, soon I hope. Or I might buy some Yak Tracks.
The functional medicine doctor was the first step. I'm trying to get myself to the point of not being constantly sick. I don't want my kids to remember me like that. I found a therapist, so hopefully I can stop feeling like I am going to crawl out of my own skin. I got a new haircut, that now forces me to go in every month to get a trim because if I don't I end up looking like I let my dogs style my hair for me. This is another thing I actively try to avoid. I have been actively trying to engage in my hobbies more.
In short, I am doing every single thing that I would tell a client to do (except of course, find a therapist, because they already have me and I rock. Duh.) And here is the real kicker....
That shit works.
Who'd a thunked it?
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