All Aboard!

dear 2015I started writing a re-cap of 2014. Then I started writing a letter to 2014. Then I decided that all the self censoring is making it difficult to know where to start. So…. fuck it. I have closed the lid on 2014. I have given myself permission to let last year go. I have decided that I will not look back and rehash all the mistakes I made, even though some of them are super funny and blog worthy. I will not give in to the temptation to dwell in the negativity pool, even though its water is just the right temperature and they let you have tasty-fruity-boozy drinks, with little umbrellas, on your raft.

Instead I will welcome 2015. I will ride the express along it’s unknown path, but I will probably fasten my seatbelt for safety.  I will not be making any silly resolutions. (my fear of failure will only allow those I can keep with certainty anyway.) But I will make some plans. I will have some goals. And they will result in prizes that make achieving them a worth while endeavor. (I have not yet chosen the prizes but they will be awesome.) I will ride my bipolar express right in to 40’s inner circle and I will make it my bitch. (Why doesn’t 40 have a catchy rhyme, like dirty-thirty? Sporty-Forty doesn’t sound as fun to me… it sounds like work, and sweating and a spicegirl in business) I will embrace the gray hair and the wrinkles. I will embrace my inner cougar and the animal print accessories she forces upon me. Okay, to be honest, I probably won’t “embrace” the gray hair, I will continue to color it… But, not because I have gray hair. I will color it because I like my hair red, or plumb or stripey. But… I will not be upset when I see a new gray hair because frankly, I earned that shit.

This year, I will grow as a person. I will recognize that I have no control over the express train’s path, but I do have control over my reactions to the ride. I cannot control what other people think of me. But I can control how I treat other people. I cannot make my family understand me or my choices. I can’t make everyone happy. The only thing I can control is myself. If I want to be better in any way, I have to make it happen. And I will make things happen.

The bi-polar express is ready to roll. Please keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times for your own safety. Clothing is optional, however shoes are not.

follow the link to buy Erin Smith’s art… do it!

 

I’m smiling next to you…

Well, well, fancy meeting you here.  I know it’s me who’s been out of touch but I had a bunch of shit and you know there was that stuff with the ting and all that. You know how it goes. One day you have all this shit in your head to write about and the next day its two months later and where did all the time go? In my defense I’ve been training at work, planning baby showers, getting ready for vacation and you know… nursing the sick, giving hope to the desolate and leaping tall buildings in a single bound. It’s a tough job being me full time. There have been days when I have seriously wanted to trade with someone for a while. Just a couple days, nothing permanent and then something happens and I realize I have it easy. My life is wonderful. I am not sure how I stumbled into what I’ve got but I’m not going anywhere. That desire to switch lives dissolved in a moment when I remembered… I remembered I am treated with respect, like a person deserving of respect and spoken to in that same way. It is amazing how much that can change things. I realized that I am flawed, beautifully and unashamedly flawed, but I am me. I am not hiding behind a mask of insecurity pretending to be someone else… I have moments of crazy and moments of lucidity, moments of sheer joy and moments of despair, moments of wonder and impossible amazement at my fortune followed by selfish tantrums about what I don’t have that someone else does. But in all this, I am just me. More good than bad, more lucid than crazy, more joy, amazement and good fortune than not. I have friendship and laughter. I am loved and cared for. I am wanted. I am thankful.

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posted from my tablet thingy

tanks mang

Who took the elephant?
You know the elephant, that was here.
It was right here!
It’s been sitting on my chest for months and even though there is still a Mastiff there now, I can tell it’s gone. The anxiety and stress and fear, well they aren’t all gone but they are in reprieve.

I have been patient, waiting, looking for something so I would be responsible. I didn’t want to pile on another bad decision. I didn’t want to disappoint everyone so I waited. And I shrunk. And the elephant got bigger and heavier and it was harder to breathe.

Sorry… I know this is a bullshit “rich first world issue”, but growing up where you have a car for every house (because lets face it, our public transit in most places is fucked) you learn the freedom that brings. I do realize how fortunate I am in every way. This is not about being thankful for that just now. That is a different grattitude for a different day. Today I am realizing just how oppressed I felt not having the ability to come and go as I please. I have great friends that would cart my ass and the most patient man ever who gave me cart blanche (for the most part) with his vehicle… but it wasn’t mine. I never felt okay, just going without asking. It wasn’t mine.

So the bullet was bitten and the purchase made. It was not the originally intended purchase, in fact far from. It will mean being a grown up and saying no sometimes. But everytime I have to say no to the movies this time, I’ll remember the elephant and how it felt to be released from it’s weight. I’ll do something else. I’ll remember the tears shed in lonliness and sadness and I will smile. It is okay. I am mine, I can go. I am free to choose where and when. It was a good decision. It was a smart decision.

Sometimes it takes removing one weight to notice there are more, but I can get to those. I can make my way to each, on my own, without asking anyone’s permission. I can give each one its turn and look… wouldn’t you know, that bastard was sitting on my confidenece. I knew it was here somewhere.

Lets dust it off, shall we?

breathe, echoing the sound

I just want for you to be here to sit beside me.

I wish for the anxiety to be gone so my chest to relax and the shaking to stop.

I want to be held so the tears will stop and I’ll know its okay. I want the shaking to stop and I want to know its okay.

Today is a blue day.

The lenses in my glasses are blue. Not a dark kind of midnight blue but kind of a prussian blue. Seeing the world this way is very frustrating because I don’t like these glasses. They feel like I can’t take them off and change them out for my pretty pink ones. They feel like I can’t breathe. They make the little things look big and the easy things look hard and they make everything feel personal. The blue glasses put me on the roller coaster that takes me on the vortex ride and I fucking hate the vortex ride. I don’t know who designed that shit but they didn’t know what they were doing.

I try to be quiet and wait for the calm to come.

I try not to think about what I’m not doing and the mess piling up and the arguments I’m picking for no reason and the tears that I can’t stop. I can’t.

What’s to say, what’s to ask, I’ve no answer to give and even I probably don’t even want to hear the reality. So I sit and sniffle and wipe dry my tears and think about all the reasons that brought me here to this blue day. The reasons that matter and the ones that don’t.

Today is a blue day.

I just want for you to be here to sit beside me.

I wish for the anxiety to be gone so my chest to relax and the shaking to stop.

I want to be held so the tears will stop and I’ll know its okay. I want the shaking to stop and I want to know its okay.

 

[youtube]http://youtu.be/KAUF7e1GVrc[/youtube]

welcome to my ride

Your hands are on your head and your mind is racing and you’re wondering ‘what the fuck, what the FUCK!’ What’s next and why am I standing here staring at my bed in tears wondering why I’m in tears. And why, WHY is a magazine from the Sunday New York Times sticking out from under my bed, ‘did I even read that??’ I need to clean up this mess and edit my closet because I have too many articles of clothing that I just don’t wear and shit dude! I’m so fucking sick of this mess. I can’t see the top of may nightstand (who names these things??) and that nasty drawer-thing by my door should just be burned in favor of a nice little table to set my keys on, because jeezis, that looks like something straight out of a dorm room and 18 years later you need to have a bit more class and a lot college chic.

Hands go back to the head… but not before wiping the tears and blaming yourself for the fact that the rest of your house is in a state of disarray, you have no children to blame, no… you are just a lazy slob, despite the fact you are not the only person in the house.

Okay, so maybe your mind isn’t doing this but mine is. well was, a few minutes ago. (did I mention this happened in the span of about 4 minutes?) The cycle continues and is repeats itself. Recognizing it, well, doesn’t stop the fucking cyclone from crashing through my bedroom er psyche, but I protected my shoes, so its okay this time. And it doesn’t just happen over the state of cleanliness in my house. Oh noooo. This is just one little trigger, one lever to shift the car down the track toward the scary loop-d-loop that I certainly didn’t sign up for (did I mention spinning gives me migraines?!?) but… We choose how to deal with the ride we’re on. So I try to remember the rose colored glasses I stashed in my seat pocket (and the meds so conveniently stashed next to them). Now that I know I’m on this ride, recognize it has traps that are trying to make me look like that crazy person who walks around talking to herself with tinfoil on her head, it’s gotten better. On occasion, I can even see the vortex of anxious coming and at least brace myself. Sometimes, I can’t, but it’s always an adventure, if not for me then it is for those close to me.

I am sparing the innocent victims of my blithering mess from having to endure public ridicule, shame or worse, pity for me to tell my story, by giving too many details or focusing on it too often. That’s the point of this really. Its my story, my life, the ride I’m on. Its my bi-polar express, two point oh (they gave me an upgrade, the original didn’t come with the anxiety package and the mania just didn’t match my shoe collection).

So lease keep track of your rose colored glassed and if you find the blinggy ones… those are mine. They fell off during my last spin in the vortex.

 

Thanks to Becca for Familial Friday which I will be calling Fucksox Friday because I have to give it my own twist… Like posting my first one on Tuesday. Because I lag.

musical tourettes

I’m not sure about you, but anytime I sit down to write, or read, or cook, or clean, or pick my eeer um movie… anything for that matter, in my head there is a song… I call it (for those of you new to my world) my mindpod. And when the little jack thingy isn’t pushed in all the way, and random lyrics suddenly escape through my piehole as the chick drops off my pay stub -think Johnny Kemp ‘just got pay-ed, Friday ni-eet. Party’s jumpin.. Feelin riiite..’ yeah, totally went there. no. I really went there a couple weeks ago. And the best part is only one person in my office was old enought to have heard that song so I had to send a link to the youtube video to several of them (the ones I like enough anyway) So it then becomes musical tourettes without the odd twitching. Its a family thing the musical tourettes, my brother’s version has lots of obscure punk and my moms has a lot of Eagles, Mama’s & Papa’s, and Little River Band and my sister’s has a lot of well shit, yeah, not gonna lie, it has shit. Then I take a amalgamation of all of them, including the shit, and just spew lyrics at random all over you when you least expect it.

So the last few weeks, the mindpod has been on overtime. But in an I’m-gonna-shufle-you-into-the-recesses-of-shit-you-forgot way. Hence the Johnny Kemp. Today and as I made my way to the barstool, er writing desk, I found myself in a Tom Petty time warp. Nope, not Mary Jane, though maybe that would calm the shit in my head yo, and not American Girl, though I could use some lotion right now. Nooo, I had Refugee… nothing to do with anything at all!! I haven’t even heard that song in for-fucking-ever. Well, the mindpod doesn’t lie so maybe my bipolar sensibilities are trying to tell me something? Or maybe it’s ADD. Because just as I decided I needed to figure out why I was trying to live like a refugee, I no longer felt the need. What the fuck yo??? I need refuge! Shelter! Something, I certainly need calm, Xanax maybe? Is my prescription current? I was at the drugstore. hhmmm. then as soon as it came to my mind, the car was on (it actually started which was a feat in and of itself) and the pod did a mad shuffle and threw me into a totally different place entirely …

“Take a drive baby up the coast, yea highway 101
I’ll pass Ventura and Santa Barbara too, just as fast as my motor runs
Gotta pocket full of memories, some happy and some are sad
Gotta girl standin’ by my side through the good times and the bad
Follow the palm trees under the California sun
I believe in love now, I believe in love again”

Now that’s better. I need a break! Work, life, work. I need to get away and take a drive! Take refuge!!! Holy shit, I’m not crazy and my mindpod did not blow a fuse. Excellent!

See you had this fear I injured my funny bone in a freak pizza tossing accident or my sarcasm font had been disabled, Fear Not! I merely took a break from my usual ranting and shit to contemplate the direction my roller coaster has been veering. Its not always easy adjusting to the sudden gee force changes that come with the bi-polar express ticket. I’m going for a ride this weekend.

yay.

viral

I was asked “What do you look forward to?” ……………  yeah, I couldn’t answer. It wasn’t that I’m unhappy, I can honestly say I am, for perhaps the first time in a long time. But what do I look forward to? What am I passionate about? All I can ever answer is people and I don’t think that is the answer she was waiting for. I think she was waiting for me to tell her about some up-coming trip (nothing on the books) or my hobby (other than the sporadic rush of verbiage onto screen, I don’t really have much there that is consistent) or some event and I just couldn’t produce.

So there I was, trying to decide whether to cry into my potato juice or eat a pound of bacon. And sometimes its just like that… you are rolling along through the mundane day to day life and someone re-posts a something that thousands of others already have and wham! you are hit in the head like a shit-brickhouse. Your motto for life- that may or may not have served you well- has ceased to exist. So there you are now given a new credo from which to operate. Welcome to my world. That was me ten days ago when someone posted the manifesto from a clothing company in my google+ stream (…. yes I have google+………. and facebook……. and twitter…… I think I have a small problem but I have not gotten to the cyber-stalking-taken-over-my-life-I-post-pics-of-my-food stage so I think I’m good.) anyway, there I was looking at a bunch of food pictures from a friend’s vacation and in the middle of his fish something or other and some cemetery, was the key to things, the cypher so-to-speak. So I adopted all but a couple lines and have decided to make it mine. A mission statement of sorts…

This is your LIFE.
Do what you LOVE, and do it often.
If you don’t like something, change it.
If you don’t like your job, quit.
If you don’t have enough time, stop watching TV.
If you are looking for the LOVE of your LIFE, stop;
They will be waiting for you when you
start doing the things you LOVE.
Stop over analyzing, LIFE is simple.
All emotions are beautiful.
Open your mind, arms, and HEART to new things
and people, we are united in our differences.
Travel often; getting lost will help you find yourself.
Some opportunities only come once, seize them.
LIFE is aout the people you meet, and
the things you create with them
so go out and start creating.
LIFE is short.
LIVE your dream.

Right?!? I find it amazing how a few lines can be so clear and simple and give a renewed sense of forward momentum to what was starting to feel like a stagnant life. I think I can use this to propel me forward to find what I’m “looking forward to”. Life IS short. This is evidenced everyday. I do need to stop over analyzing and remember that emotions are beautiful even when they are complex and I don’t understand them. There are things I don’t like and I am the only one that can change them. No one else can fix my shit and no one else should (how will I learn anything?). I am creative and able to start creating.

This is my LIFE. It is viral and moving forward.

thank you holstee company

Love and Solidarity

Six, or so, months ago my brother said to me… I’m gonna run a 1/2 marathon to benefit the leukemia/lymphoma society. Under most circumstances with many people (especially in his particular place in life -ie haven’t run since high school) I may have done a double take and said something to the affect of “are-you-fucking-serious??? uuuummmm… you do realize that involves running right?? you know… that exercise thing where you pound yourself against the pavement at multiple times the force of gravity until your joints scream at you that they are vacating the premises and you are an asshole…. that running right???”

But because it was my brother, and because he is the man he is, with his own particular view on the the world and the way things should be handled to get past hurdles, I looked at him, and while I admit I thought those things, said… that’s pretty rad, do you want to go to the gym with me to ease yourself into a routine until your body is used to exercising again?  At first he was reluctant and I was a bit pushy. But a couple miles and some serious ankle and knee pain convinced him I may have know just a little bit. I will be the first person to tell you I struggle with the exercise gremlins, but I go. Not because I want to be in shape but because I need to go… my sanity depends on it. And I think my brother has discovered the same. It helps. But none of this matters right now, the point is, he is going, and working and fighting the pain (which he discovered was a reality, right away – think searing burning swelling ankle and knee pain) for something he committed to. My bro is a fukin rock star. He has been my hero for a long time for many reasons.  I think I’ve said before that we have come full circle and went from not just disliking each other but flat out hostility, to being close enough to be real. That is rare in this world of twitter-tweeting, social networked bullshit where actual conversations cause people to become physically ill.  But we can. It is not always easy, in fact when you have to be real and throw down that conversation that you know is going to hurt but no one else can say it, you do and it sucks, but you do.

So on Sunday my brother will fight through the pain. He will think about a child and our Pepere and Brother in law. He will gather all the strength he has push through the physical pain and overcome a physical challenge to match some of the many mental challenges he’s overcome in his life. I can’t be there in person, he wouldn’t see me if I was. But when he hits the starting-line at 6am with 40,000 other runners, I will be thinking about him. And even though the day before will have been my birthday and who knows what state my body will be in, I will be awake, sending all the positive healing energy I have to him. I will be thinking about what he’s accomplished and how far he’s come, not just with running but in his life. I will be thinking about how much he does for me and how much he means to me and how incomplete my life would be without him.

 … less than three
Rock & Roll Marathon, San Diego, June 5th