Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Ch-ch-ch-changes.

I've been down lately. There was a bit of time when I was so down I literally could not think of even one small thing that could take away that cloud of self-loathing. It was exhausting and, honestly, a little scary. I thought things that I hadn't thought in a long time - terrible, horrible things about myself and my life.

I'm doing a bit better. I'm letting some things go and really focusing on things I enjoy. I'm swimming and fucking around in the pool a few days a week. I'm working, which is a huge thing for me - when I'm not working, I feel completely fucking useless. I'm also letting up a tiny bit on the rigidity of my scheduled life.

Still, it's taking a while to get to where I want to be, and there are still moments - days, sometimes - where I think, "This is completely fucking useless. Nothing is going to change. My life is terrible, people are terrible, the world is terrible - it's all terrible. Nothing will ever change."

And then, today, while I was fucking around on Tumblr, I ran across this:

From Humans of New York

In case you can't read it, it says:
"Bank robbery was my crime of choice. You know, I hadn’t committed a single crime until the age of 54. But then I robbed my first bank, and after that I went on quite a tear."
I read that, and it made me happy. It gave me hope. It showed me that just because I'm 45, doesn't mean that nothing will ever change. There is the possibility that the new and unexpected will happen.

Sure, that guy's change was robbing banks, but my point is this: I no longer feel like I'm never going to do anything different, that I'll never accomplish anything. This guy's life didn't change until he was 54. It may have changed in a not-so-good direction, but IT CHANGED. That's all I'm looking for - the knowledge that this isn't all there is.

So thanks, Bank Robber, and thanks, Humans of New York, for making me see that there's a world of possibilities waiting for me.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Goddamn it. Just goddamnit.

Having been raised in a culture where women are treated as 45th class citizens, I know what it's like to be dismissed and diminished and completely negated.

I'd always thought, though, that adopting the American ethos, that being an American, would be an entree into a world where I would be treated fairly, with respect, with the understanding that I have worth.

Fuck you, SCOTUS. Just fuck you. Fuck you bullshit motherfuckers who think that your religion trumps my autonomy. Eat a giant bag of dicks.

This is not a theoretical issue - this cuts straight to the core of being a woman, of being in charge of your own body. I am aghast at the absolute disdain this ruling shows for women. This is not an issue about money or even religious freedom, really. This is about telling women that men control them. It is about keeping a woman in her place.

I am so angry, so despondent, that I don't even know what to do. I know I'll never shop at Hobby Lobby - but I didn't do that before, so what does that change?


Honestly. I don't even know what to do.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

I totally forgot I had a blog, too.

It's been a long few weeks.

I'm trying to be mindful, which means that I am trying to be the exact opposite of me. That shit is exhausting. Not only for me, but also for the people directly involved with me, whether they have the joy of listening to me bitch about sweating while I'm cooking [YES, IT IS ALL STILL FUCKING DELICIOUS] or the dubious joy of getting texts from me about hating every single person in the universe, including Schrodinger's fucking cat. Who exists. Fuck you, Schrodinger. I solved your equation.

I spent Sunday at the pool with a friend of mine. Our kids have been friends since 1st grade. She's also been dealing with down in the dumps feelings, and I know that part of it is that our kids are leaving soon, but it's also that we're at loose ends in the world in general. I feel like I can't quite get a grasp on who I am.

I may start trying on personas. Just for funsies. I think the next one is going to be Ice Queen because I'm tired of being so goddamn hot stupid hot flashes are the worst in the world. My luck? I'd probably end up Slushy Queen because did I tell you about the several nights where I slept with the AC on, the ceiling fan on, and a fan blowing DIRECTLY ON ME and I was still hot? I'm coming up with The Ice Pajama-Rama, for ladies of a certain age who are tired of being so motherfucking hot.

God. Did you miss me?

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Finding love at the dentist's office.

Many, many years ago, I loosened a molar. I actually remember doing it - I spent a lot of time grinding and clenching to keep from losing my goddamn mind during the throes of post-partum depression. One day, there was a shift in the back of my mouth, and I thought, "Well, great, now I'll be a toothless crone, too."

In the years since, my molar has pretty much stayed in place. It wiggled a bit, and my dentist worried about it, but I kept avoiding dealing with it, because the movement was actually kind of comforting. Finally, after about 7,304,320 instances of my dentist telling me I should get it checked, I made an appointment with a periodontist.

Oh, what had a I waited for?

Now, I already love people who clean my teeth. I'm saving up for a bunch of those poke-y metal things and want, desperately, to get a water and suction duo that I can use not only in the bathroom but also while lounging and watching tv. Come on. Rinsing and then not having to worry about spitting or swallowing? It's a dream. [Get your minds out of the gutter.]

But the periodontist? Hoo-boy, I am smitten. I was laying back in the dental chair when this gravely old Southern voice said, "Well, darlin', what are we seein' ya for?" and boom, I was done for. A man who will make my teeth awesome AND speaks all Southern sexy? Yes, please, I'll take two.
He took care of my tooth [grinding off part of it so it lines up right] and I get to go back and see him ALL THE TIME - ok, a few times so he can check to see how it's doing - and you'd better believe that I dress pretty fancy and make sure my teeth are clean and I'm wearing perfume and there's no eyeliner gunk in the corner of my eye.

I also may or may not have told the girl, "Oh, yeah, I love my periodontist - 'You need to put your fingers in my mouth? You go right ahead.'" Because if she's going to get a new daddy, I want her to know that mommy is very, very happy about it.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Awkward Conversations

Mother in law: How did you and the husband meet?

Me, looking around at MIL, FIL, the husband, and the girl, unable to think of a lie: At a bar.

Everyone laughs.

Me, because I can't keep my fucking mouth shut: It was dollar pitcher night.

Some laughter, mostly from me, the girl, and the husband. 

MIL: Well, where did you go on your first date?

Me, thinking, does going back to his place count as a first date? I'm going to count it as part of the meeting, and move on: We went to an outdoor bar.


The husband, trying to do damage control: Yeah, we had a nice dinner there.

Sure we did.