Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Mufflers and Tires and Snacks OH MY

I’m still not very familiar with the town I have been living in for over 7 years. It’s not that it is that big, it’s not. It is just that these people here drive like idiots. If you’re looking for a road in particular, you’re screwed if you can’t see the road sign, and turn down the road all without braking. We’re talking in city streets too. You'll get blowed at like you just ran someones granny over. People will wave at you too but they don't look real friendly when they do it and I don't lip read real well, but I'll be dogged if i don't think some of these folks are saying bad words while they're waving.

My husband is from here. He also has that man gift going for him where even if he hasn’t a clue where he is he will pretend he does. We do usually make it to where we were headed, we might not get there in time but we do get there.

We were headed to a chicken joint the other night, taking the “short cut”. BULL BUTTER!! Shortcut my rear end…we drove through places where you lock the doors and refuse to make eye contact with people.

I saw this one shop, it looked like a garage/tire store type place and the sign over it said, “Mufflers - Tires - Snacks”….snacks??

I’m sitting here wondering how strange it is for a repair shop to advertise snacks. As we got a little closer, I realize it doesn’t say snacks…it said SHOCKS.

I have always prided myself on being able to read signs from great distances. I only need reading glasses for close up work. Cheap ones at that. Just plain old Wally World reading glasses, that’s all I need. Only the 1.50's or at most 1.75's.

Snacks…!?!?! Shit. Now my eyes are betraying me. I guess the knees that sounds like snap, crackle and pop are happy now. I'm sure L4 and L5 are just peachy over the entire situation. The more the merrier they're all thinking.

Well, at least when I look in the mirror I won' be able to tell quite how far down my boobs have fallen.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Dysfuntional Family, Make it Extra Large

Ahhh a Saturday.

Picnics in the park.

Swimming at the lake.

Going to a movie and ordering popcorn with EXTRA butter.

Attending a family function you would never have attended had it not been for the possibility of guilt rearing its ugly head when these people finally die off.


My perfect sister (my only sibling) celebrated her and her perfect husbands’ 40th wedding anniversary on Saturday at a popular restaurant in town.

Now don’t get me wrong…I love my sister, even though I really don’t know her. You see, she is just a tad (9 years) older than me and has never shared my interest in being “friends” for some reason. At one time in our lives, we saw each other every year at Christmas because our dear father insisted. Our dear mother, on the other hand, would probably have skipped the entire “lets get married and have a family” thing had she possessed a smidgen of foresight what-so-ever.

Be that as it may…whether it was caused by a slight brain fart or some minor blow to the head, my dear mother called me to PLEAD with me to attend this function. That same night, (coincidence? – I think not) dear father called to inquire as to my plan to either attend or not attend this fantastic display of perfection that was to be my sisters anniversary party. He has a way of “twisting the screws” without you noticing until it is done and over with.

It seems as if life itself hung in the balance of my attending or not attending this party.

Needless to say, I went. It is really not my fault, as it has not been very long since I GREW the balls to “Just Say No” to these family things. It only took 43 years of chewing bloody, mangled holes in my lips and weeks of diarrhea before and after each event to figure out that my family is really not very healthy for me.

I decided to go on Saturday, for purely selfish reasons. Attending this party when there are really about 7 million other things I’d rather do, like – oh I don’t know, get a ROOT CANAL, should heap up the points on the old “guilt meter”. You know, just in case they die any time soon.

As far as a party goes, it was okay. My sister was perfect, her husband was perfect, her three children were perfect, their children were perfect, the decorations were perfect, the cake was perfect, the food was perfect, it was just all so totally effing perfect I nearly shit myself.

What can be finer than a Saturday?

Monday, August 20, 2007

Well Hung Men

I apologize in advance for such a sleezy joke, but I nearly peed myself when I read it...

Do you know how to tell if a man is well hung?

His face will be blue, his eyes will be bulging and his mouth won't be running!!!

Wasn't that awful ? !!!

Adultery & Regret & Stains That Won't Come Out

Less I come across as "preachy", allow me to say I am only writing from my own personal experience.

I never set out to commit adultery 8 years ago. That was never the plan in my mind. I did not wake up one morning and think, “Gee. I think I’ll begin a quest to ruin countless lives today”. Like so many people have said before me, it just happened.

When I had been in my first marriage for 24 years, somewhere in the cobwebs of my mind, I got to thinking that there was something I was missing out on. I began thinking things like; how I married so young I never had a chance to live, and how I never really dated and how I missed out on having a social life.

My children were well up in their teen years and in my mind no longer needed me. Matter of fact my oldest had already moved out. My baby was a senior. I felt used up…hollow. We had been foster-parents, I had done volunteer work, received awards for the volunteer work, PTA, taken up hobbies, etc. Nothing was filling the void I was finding inside me now though.

My marriage had not been the best of them. There had been physical abuse in the earlier years, but we had gotten past all that and were finally getting to the point where we could have time to ourselves. We had never had a time we were just a couple since our firstborn arrived 7 months after we married…I was 16…he was 20. We had all grown up together. As far as “real world” circumstances, we were about as content as a couple could hope to be I suppose. Maybe comfortable would be a better word.

I had been a housewife through most of my marriage. Actually all but about 3 years of it I had stayed home. I didn’t want to have to worry about my kids before and after school and my husband didn’t want me to work, so my being a housewife worked out well. In February of that last year though, I felt like I was either going to go to work, have another baby, or lose my mind.

The time alone every day was just destroying me. My oldest was gone. My baby came home after school just long enough to change clothes and would then leave for work. I didn’t seem to have a purpose any longer. Maybe my illness was digging in it’s heels about that time too. I honestly believe the bipolar played a part in all this. Regardless, that’s when I went back to work “outside the home” as they used to say.

Then I met “Joe” (not his real name of course). Joe was my supervisor. I worked the midnight till 8am shift. Joe, who managed several locations and didn’t have to even be out at night, began spending a lot of time with me, just hanging around and joking and talking. We had a lot in common as far as our backgrounds and he would talk about his wife and kids and I would talk about mine.

At this point it is important for you to know, that I never had much self-esteem. When I looked (look) in the mirror all I could (can) see was fat and frumpy. I had been fat since my first pregnancy. I have PCOS and one of the manifestations of that is hirsutism and I had that too. I had been a housewife for 20 of 24 years and had not been around people much other than at church for a few hours each week.

When “Joe” began showing even more interest in me, I was just amazed. He was handsome. I mean out of a magazine handsome. He was a former cop, like I was. He WANTED to hear my cop stories – my husband had NEVER wanted to hear them. Joe was your typical tall, dark and handsome. He was so tender, yet he was all man. Very masculine. He was also 4 years younger than me, yet he was interested in me. I was absolutely swept away.

I though for the longest I was imagining things. I just KNEW he couldn’t really be interested in me; it had to be my mind playing tricks on me. Then he began asking me to go places with him. He began spending more and more nights with me on my job. It was obvious things were not going well at home otherwise he wouldn’t have been free to be away so much. I guess that’s one of the things I held onto when trying to justify in my mind what I was about to be involved in…because I knew it was coming.

Just before things became more serious, we had a conversation. We both knew the other was married. We both knew that situation was not going to change. We both understood we were not looking to change our circumstances…that we would never leave our kids nor our spouses. Before we actually made love the first time, there were a couple of times that we actually began and stopped before…uh…completing the deed. Neither of us had ever been unfaithful before.

I won’t sit here and tell you it was all horrible and unpleasant and completely a negative experience. There were many pleasures. It was awesome experiencing that feeling of “newness” and freshness; of someone wanting me even though I was fat and didn’t feel very “wanted”, yearning for me, touching me. The long, long conversations. I believe we each told secrets we had not shared with others. Having married so young, this was my first time as an adult falling in love with someone.

That first kiss; the first time he told me he loved me; the first time we made love…all those were beautiful and even now, knowing how much pain was caused, those things still bring a flutter in my heart. The memory of his face, of his voice, the scent of his cologne, the way he held my hair to his face that first time we kissed.

Joe and I had breakfast together most weekdays. Lunch a lot of days. Not very many suppers. Married people cannot do supper very well. That would be too obvious.

I will never forget one day I had ridden with him on a short business trip and his wife called. Neither of us had ever experienced that before. Neither of us had ever talked to our spouse in front of each other. As soon as I realized it was her on the other side of the phone, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the most horrible feeling in the world, or so I thought….but when the words “I love you too” passed from his lips into the phone to her ears, I almost vomited in his car.

I guess until that point and time, I had pictured her as some unfeeling, cold frigid mean woman who had “changed” after marrying him. Hearing him say “I love you too” to her forced me to believe that what we had talked about was true.

Our “affair” went on for 6 months. It ended one morning when we went to breakfast, he kissed me good-bye and said, “I’ll talk to you in a little while”, as was our usual routine. I never heard from him again. My phone didn’t ring and I never called his.

We had discussed ending it because of the misery we were caught up in when we were apart. Neither of us wanted to hurt anyone else and with every passing day we were risking that happening. I didn’t expect it to end that day though. So suddenly. So abruptly. I did by chance talk to him one time since that day. He said he knew it was coming to an end and he didn’t do “good-byes” well.

In the aftermath, although we were never “caught” during our affair, it did become known after it was all over with. My marriage was already over when it came to light, his damaged after she found out.

Maybe it is different for men, but I could never look at my husband the same once I had been with another man. Finally, I left. The pain I caused, in my own heart as well in others’ unfortunately will never leave completely. My husband of 24 years, the man I grew up with, was very hurt by my carelessness. By the decision I made the night I decided to go through with this affair. My son has had nothing to do with me since I left his daddy 8 years ago. There is no telling what effect I will never know about on down the road with my children, or Joe’s children.

Affair seems like such an innocuous little word. It seems so small and happy. Almost like a little party or get-together. ADULTERY...now that words seems to say right out loud how horrible and awful and sinful it truly is. How hurtful and demeaning.

Some of you will be very offended by this post. I don't blame you at all. There has not a day passed in 8 years that the thoughts of what I caused not rifled through my mind. There are days, many of them, that I consider the only time I will ever truly forgive myself is when I am no longer on this earth breathing. I may have written this rather light heartedly, but please know it wasn't as light hearted as it sounded.

There was a time in my life, when I was younger, I would use the term "never". There was a time I thought I was incapable of inflicting the kind of pain this caused. I've learned not to use the word "never" again.

I guess what I am stumbling around here trying to say, is that no matter how much greener that grass seems…and it may be greener, but it can leave stains that will never go away.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Grandsnake Mudd and Granny

My head has been temporarily removed in order to remain anonymous.

This is Mudd. Mudd is one of my grandsnakes. My dear child and her husband do snake rescue.

I had never been a snake person myself, but they are okay.
I'd not do well owning one since I would be very uncomfortable dropping a live animal in there every week knowing it would soon me someone's lunch.
Other than that, they're pretty cool.

Smoking, Sex and Menthol Cigarettes

First off, let me assure you this post will NOT be about sex. Well, maybe just a tad about sex, but mostly NOT about sex.

I have not smoked since December 31 of 2006. It has been 7 months, 17 days and 7 hours and 50 minutes. I could smoke one right now in one puff! I might choke to death, but I really want to smoke.

I am weighing my options...I am 46, smoked already for 25 years. Is the damage not already done? I have metabolic syndrome/PCOS whatever they are referring to it now as. I have had hypertension since way back when I was 34 years old and in fairly good shape. I have in the past two months been diagnosed with diabetes AND bipolar and have developed some weird allergy problems since I quit smoking.

If I am destined to die early anyway, I really don't see the point in not smoking as long as I don't inflict it on anyone else.

Oh, and as far as the sex, it's been about that long since I had any of that too! Sick husband, don't ya know?

Ahhhhhhhh...my fantasy...good hot sex with a nice menthol cigarette afterwards.....or during. Hey, I'm not picky.


Living With Bipolar

I’ve been reading a new blog lately. It is The Shape of Days and the article that touched me enough to make me want to read further was For Those of You Living With Someone With Personality Disorder . I am Bipolar having just been diagnosed a couple of weeks ago. This writer was able to put into words feelings and thoughts I have had my entire life.

Several readers had asked this writer if he had advice for living with people with this disorder after he had written an article letting his readers know he had been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. His answers, including how his mind works and how he thinks, were eerily familiar to me.

Here is an example of what he said:
People like me live in constant fear of abandonment. We are deeply distrustful. We don’t think you love us, or care about us, or even enjoy our company on a superficial level because we know how we are. We’re aware of it. We know we’re manipulative. We know we’re selfish. We know we’re mean and rude and all those things.

That just blew my mind. I don’t think I have ever trusted anyone. I am on my second marriage at 46 and my biggest fear with both husbands is (or has been) that one day they just plain wouldn’t come home. When they do come home, I am thinking of all the reasons why they did because I KNOW it cannot be because they love me or enjoy my company, hell who could once they really know me?

When people are nice to me, I wonder whats “really” behind their actions. What is it they are wanting? What have they done behind my back that they think I am about to find out about? Anytime someone in my office is speaking low and close their office door in order to have privacy I am CONVINCED they are talking about me.

Another point he made was this:
We start out by becoming swiftly and overwhelmingly attached to you. Maybe romantically, maybe platonically. We entrust you with our secrets, which are legion since we have so much to be ashamed of. We want you to entrust us with your secrets. We get close, fast.

I have always been that way. Be it a new friend, a new work associate or a new lover, I think I must tell them everything, at once. All the dirt, all the past, everything. I can feel myself telling too much too soon and just have this compelling urge to forge ahead.

Maybe, at least in my case, it is to be sure this person knows the smut, knows how really stupid and bad a person I am so they can really know what they are getting into. I am much better about this now than I was a couple of years back though – it has taken a conscious effort – but I am better in this area.

I encourage you to visit this blog and read this article, especially if your someone you love has BPD or Bipolar disorder.

Peace ya'll !

COBRA, Medical Insurance and the Poor House

Well, the time is drawing nigh…after September 30th my husband will no longer have medical insurance.

He lost his insurance in March of 2006 when he was laid off at his job and has been on COBRA since then, but in our state, you can only be on COBRA for 18 months. I’m not sure why since we’re paying every dime of the premium, but that is the rule.

We have called all the “big” insurance companies and probably most of the “little” ones. We’ve had an independent agent researching for us and he basically came back and said my husband in uninsurable because of all the pre-existing conditions he has.

He is 53. He has worked a full time job since he was 15 years old, including all throughout high school and college. He didn’t work his childhood years so he could buy a car or take his dates out to fancy restaurants, he did it so he could put groceries on the table for his parents and himself and so he could pay their mortgage payments. You see, his dad had his first major heart attack at 45 and was dead by 53.

So now here he is, same age as his daddy when he died, about to lose his insurance. Whose fault is it that he will soon have no insurance? He didn’t do anything wrong to lose his job, it was a financial decision on the employers part.

He has went back to work at another company since the lay off, but despite sending out better than 60 resumes and beating the streets non-stop, he has not found a job that offers any benefits that will help in his situation.

The insurance he has been offered at his current job has a “cap” of $1000 a year on prescriptions!?! He takes more than that in a month! The cap on medical is equally ridiculous but I cannot remember the rates right off hand. Is it his fault because he has several chronic illness’ that make him uninsurable? In addition to his dad having heart problems at a young age, his only sibling, a brother, had his first stroke in his 40’s. What about his family history? Does that play a part? Who is to blame for that?

I just can’t see any reason all this is through any fault of his and that is what a lot of people would have the public believe, that the uninsured are in the position they are in because they are lazy, fat uneducated slobs. That just ain’t always so.

Are we supposed to spend all our money on “medical” until we lose our small modest home? Then who will we be a burden on???

The only answer we can come up with, and I feel horrible even saying it out loud, but if we divorce, then my income would not be counted and he may qualify for some of the drug programs out there and possibly help for his medical care. I don’t see that we have any other choice and I loathe lying and dishonesty but at what point do you leave your morals behind and do whatever it takes to survive?

It is not quite as cut and dry, nor as black and white, as some bloggers would have us believe.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Katrina & Pets

I made the mistake today of going back online and looking at some Katrina photographs. There are so many subjects within those pictures that you could write a hundred stories about a hundred different subjects. I want to write about the animals I saw in the pictures.

I know the human loss was horrible. I have cried many tears for all the families who lost someone. I go to church with a lady who moved here after her only blood relative was killed during Katrina, her only child, a son. I can remember hearing the stories about the people who would not leave because they wouldn’t leave their pets behind. I heard many nasty remarks about how “stupid” that was of them to die rather than leave a dog or a cat.

Some of those pictures I looked at were no doubt reunions between human and pet. The looks on the peoples' faces spoke volumes. Some of the pictures were people in boats holding tightly to their dogs. A few were people in waist high water carrying their pets. Most of them though were of abandoned pets, their eyes crying for help, for food and "their person".

I thought long and hard back during and right after Katrina about this. There have been times I have sit and talked with a friend about, "Well, if that happened to me, this is what I would do". Most of the time though, I don't think we're sure what we would do in certain situations unless we are put in those positions. Leaving my pets behind is not one of them. Under no circumstances would I leave my precious friends behind.

My little dog, my three cats, my rats, they are faithful and have such a pure unconditional love for me how could I ever look them in their little trusting eyes and walk away? What would I have? I would be alive. My body would be warm and my heart would be beating. I would continue breathing and going through all the motions, but my mind would never be the same knowing that I walked away and left my babies to die horribly, alone and scared.

I am a former cop. I thought a lot back then about the things I “knew” I would do if such and such happened on my job, and the things I just didn’t have a clue what I would really do unless I was put in the situation. This dilema however is one of those things people refer to as a “no brainer”.

Leaving my pets behind or staying and possibly dying with them…..?
That one is a “no brainer".

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Lamictal & My Shrink

I went to my shrink. I took a copy of an online bipolar test that I had taken with me. He asked some questions, discussed my uncle who hung himself in his 40's when I was nine. Doc seems to agree that I am probably bipolar and have been this entire time I have been treated for depression alone. Misdiagnosed for 15 years.

The average number of years for a person with bipolar to be treated in error for depression is 10+ years.

He put me on Lamictal and doubled my Cymbalta. I've been on the Lamictal for 2 weeks and 2 days now. Very slow titration. So far I have had a few ulcers in my mouth but no other symptoms so I haven't called him. Seems there is this rather nasty and dangerous rash 1 in 10,000 people get from Lamictal.

I have my fingers crossed that the blisters don't get worse and no other side effects present themselves. I really want this to work. I really am ready to be normal.

If you were to look back through my BLOG, bipolar sure would explain some of the dumb things I've done over my lifetime.

It also explains why sometimes I can sit down and the words just pour out of my fingers like fluid and sometimes I couldn't put two good sentences together if you held a gun to my head.
Having such a diagnosis pinned on you is still embarrassing since that stigma still exists, but it also explains just enough that I think maybe I wasn't as horrible a person as I thought I was; and that is a load off my shoulders.