Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts

How Would Your History Book Read?

4.17.2013


I won't lie, there are times I really want to be famous. So famous that everyone knows who I am. On the other hand, I would be terrified if I suddenly became a household name, because I know dirt would be dug up on me, really muddy dirt that I would be mortified if the whole world knew.

I know there are pictures out there of me from my past that would disqualify me from any future Thanksgiving dinners. I've done things and been a part of things that I never want my parents to know about. I've broken many a rule, gone places I never should have gone and done things I never should have done.

But let's be honest, who hasn't?

Right now, at this very moment, I'm pretty happy with who I am. I think I'm a pretty good mom, a semi decent wife and a helluva good cocktail mixer. I'm content with my conscience, and I know I'm an all around good person.

Still. If someone were to write my history book and publish it for all to read? My first reaction is that I would be mortified. I mean, I've done some pretty sketchy stuff, some stuff that may be considered illegal in 49 states. So yeah, for that to get out might be a little embarrassing.

On the other hand, I did it, I'll own it, and I can admit when a mistake I did make. Everything I've done in the past, good or bad, has made me into who I am today. And if we're being honest and humble, I'm pretty f*cking cool. Only if we're being humble and honest...

I guess what I'm trying to say is I've never really done anything that would devastate me if the truth came out. I've never slept with my sisters boyfriends, I've never voted Democrat and I've never slathered crisco butter all over my body to accelerate my tan in a tanning bed. (It works. It may eventually kill you, but hell it works.)

Now all I gotta do is decide on a name for my book...

I think "Shoulda Woulda Coulda: It's All Gooda" sounds....gooda...

What would your history book be called?


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Choose Well

4.04.2013

*for the life of me I can't find the main source for this quote. if you know, please tell me*

I've seen the above quote circulating on social media lately, and right away it hit me like a ton of bricks. I've always believed that kids are a blank canvas, that we as parents write on the walls of their brain. They are born innocent, completely pure. And I also believe, to an extent, a BIG extent, that children are a reflection of their parents. 

My sister was over the other day (you know, the one with three girls under two), and as we were discussing life, and as I was trying to engage her in gossip, she cut me off like she always does and said something new, something I'd never heard her say before. "I want my kids to grow up and say they never heard me say a bad thing about anyone." 

"Well that's a stupid goal," I replied.

I mean, shouldn't your children hear you talk about how bad and evil child molesters are? Shouldn't they hear you discuss how horrible murderers are? Bad drivers? Gingers? And lastly, don't you think your kids need to know the dangers of growing up to be a raging liberal who thinks the world owes them something?

And like she always does, my sister responded with something well-versed and wise:

"It basically boils down to keeping your heart and head as toxic free as possible. And seething over bad people doesn't add to your life. Learning the negative lessons help you be a better person and then you can move on because you don't continue hating people."

I hate when others put a damper on my shallow gossiping fun.

But then later that evening, as I watched my two little boys play in the front yard, I felt such a sense of pride. Pride in knowing that my boys have no sense of superiority. Pride in the fact that when I showed Gunner a picture of two little boys, of which were different races, and said how they were brothers just like him and Colt, he didn't bat an eye or ask why they looked different, the only thing he said to me was "mommy, we need to write them a letter and tell them we want to play with them." Because to Gunner, all he saw was two little boys just like him. That he desperately wanted to play with. 

You hear a lot where people say a child's heart and soul are innocent. That children are blindly accepting. Comparing them to adults who are critical and judgmental, as if growing older naturally does that to people. I can only speak for myself, but my parents raised me to believe that everyone is equal, regardless of race, background or social status. And I have an 87 year old grandpa who I have never, not once, heard utter a bad word about someone. Whose acceptance has trickled down to his five kids, and every one of his ten grandchildren and twelve great-grandchildren. (I would also like to give huge credit to my Nonie, my angel in heaven, the matriarch of our family and the most accepting, kind person I've ever known.)

It starts at birth. It starts at home. It starts with me and it starts with you. 

No matter how hard we try to preach what is right, if our actions don't line up with our words, our kids will see right through it, and what they will take away is what they see us do. How they see us live our lives when we think they aren't looking. I can tell my kids not to curse fifty times a day, but when they hear me say "oh sh*t" on a constant basis they will think it's ok for them also. I can tell my kids to not give in to peer pressure, that they don't need to drink to have a good time, but if they see mommy and daddy throwing some back every time there is a get-together, sooner or later they will get the impression that drinking does equal a good time. Regardless of what we tell them. 

I want my kids to see me be kind. To see me hold the door open for whoever is behind me, to see me respect the elderly and to see me never differentiate between people who may not look exactly the same. I want them to witness me being accepting of everyone, no matter their race, appearance or sexual orientation. I want them to see me respond to negativity with class.

Because I don't think innocence and tolerance fades with age. 

I know it doesn't. 

Let me refer back to my 87 year old grandpa.


It starts with us.


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If You're Crazy And You Know It Shake Your Meds

11.12.2012


Who, me? Crazy? I wish I could blame my meds, but no, just like a third of the population, I have a chemical imbalance that needs assistance to function properly. My story starts about eleven years ago. I've had eleven years to accurately explain how I felt, and why I decided to go on medication, and the best way I can describe it is to say that my brain felt like it consisted of clouds. Brain fog, I like to call it. I remember sitting in a chinese restaurant with my mom and just feeling completely out of it. We were having a conversation at the table, but it was like an out of body experience. I was there, but I wasn't. It was that brain in the clouds thing again, and it was starting to happen more and more frequently. 

It wasn't only the brain fog that was hindering me. There were true moments of anxiety also. For example, there were times I would be driving down the highway and would suddenly feel like I was going to pass out at the wheel, and I would have to pull over as fast as possible. There were times at night when I was trying to fall asleep and my heart would be pounding so hard and I just felt so...uneasy. So weird. So not right. 

So not right is a pretty good way to put it.

Now let me tell you, before all this started to happen? I was so against illegal legal drugs. I did not want to take any kind of "mood altering" medication. I thought it was for weak people who just couldn't deal with life. How wrong I was. After the first week or two of taking an anti-anxiety? Huge difference. The brain in the clouds thing disappeared. The feeling like I was going to pass out while driving thing disappeared. I could sleep at night without freaking out. I was little more, shall we say...normal. More right.

I continued taking my anti-anxiety meds until I became pregnant with Gunner. I quit cold turkey and honestly didn't have any side effects. I'm not sure if it had to do with the influx of hormones and other things going on in my body from being pregnant, but I didn't have that let-down from getting off the medication. After Gunner was born, I went back on the meds off and on, and by off and on, I mean I wasn't very disciplined in taking them properly. I missed a day here, a few days there, etc. From what I can recall, my anxiety was minimal during that period. Two years later I got pregnant again with Colt, went off them completely (I didn't trust taking any drugs during pregnancy) and all was well.

Not exactly sure when it started up again, but a few months after Colt was born, the anxiety kicked back into high gear, so back to the doc I went and got back on my trusty ol' pills. It's been two years since then, and I can't imagine I will ever go off them again. My doctor told me that most people who start taking them for extended periods of time usually never get back off them. Which is totally ok with me, considering I am a total basketcase without.

There have been a few times I went off them for a couple days, not on purpose per say, but I just didn't refill my prescription in time and a few days lapsed and let me tell you, by day three? The effects were OMG whoa. I felt out of it times ten. When I stood up/sat down too fast, it felt like I was coming down from a rollercoaster, the whole stomach dropping thing and all. It was horrible. There is a reason the doctors say not to stop abruptly, and it's a good one.

There was an instance about a month ago. My insurance suddenly changed policies on me at the last minute, and with doctor scheduling conflicts, I went four whole days without my meds. It. was. brutal. I'm not a crier, and by day four? I was crying over everything. My mom called me and when I saw her number on caller ID, I couldn't answer because I knew she would nonchalantly ask me how I was doing, as she does every day. The lump in my throat was so huge that I knew I would bust into tears the second I answered. My husband came home and asked what was wrong. I could barely get the words out because of the crying. I was watching TV and cried over a Pantene commercial. You know that part at the end where they say "you're worth it?" Yeah, ugly tears pursued. It was insane to me. I was so incredibly over the top emotional that if I wasn't a hard-core believer in the power of *crazy meds before, I was now. For life.

Side note: my sister made a little comment about how when I was off my meds for those four days, I was actually capable of feeling real human emotions. That maybe the pills had pushed all my emotions and feelings into oblivion and once off them, they were able to come out and I wasn't a non-caring cold-hearted b*#ch. My response? I'd rather be an emotionless wench than a wacko sympathetic freak who cries over shampoo commercials. End side note.

As for side effects? There is a whole list of things that could potentially go berserk, but for me, I don't really experience any side effects. Besides being sane. And the fact that drinking on my meds makes me get buzzed twice as fast. Which is a good thing if you ask me. 

And there you have it. My experience with the crazies. If you have any other questions, leave them here and I will answer in the comments.

What about you? Any good/bad/life-changing/shampoo-commerical-crying experiences with the magic pills? Please share! We can all be crazy together.

shake shake shake!


*I don't really think they are crazy meds, nor are people who take them crazy. It's something totally 
uncontrollable and a legit imbalance in the brain. I just like to make light of things.