I should know better…

My boys love to decorate cookies, so today when I was grocery shopping, I bought supplies for decorating valentine’s day cookies. Then I saw already cut out sugar cookie hearts that you just took out of the package and baked. Great cheat I thought. But, no. See the small pink and white cookies on top of the big cookies? Yeah. My cheat cookies were no good for decorating, so I had to make home made ones anyway. I should have known…

I Don’t Know…

What exactly to write about. I’ve been horribly unsociable in the past several weeks. I’m not depressed and I’m not angry. I’m not even horribly anxious. I’m just not talkative or outgoing. I think that I could pull off selective mutism if it wasn’t for my kids…having to talk to them and their doctors, teachers, counselors, service providers.

I’m tired. But not overly, ridiculously tired. I would love to sleep as much as I want for a few weeks. But, life, kids, wife does not allow for that.

I’m struggling with some health issues, but nothing that should make me mute and tired.

I’ve spent lots of time with a new friend lately and that has been entirely pleasant. I spent some time with a dear old friend and that was awesome. I also know I have not reached out as much as I usually do to most of my friends.

I do have an amusing anecdote about therapy (psycho) the other day. My therapist and I have been talking about the original Twilight Zone and the way the writer used toys in lots of his stories. We talked about how a doll that I have witnessed most of the abuse I endured. I have used this doll in therapy to represent my younger self in trying to deal with my flashbacks and nightmares. Well, in my last few sessions, we talked about some of the things I needed to say to my younger self. I brought the doll into my last session, got her out, and then became rebellious, telling my therapist I had no idea what to say, and got sarcastic with this baby doll. My therapist stopped me and asked me if I would talk to a small child like that, and I said no. So my therapist said I probably should not talk to my younger self like that. I just stopped and crossed my arms and gave therapist my evil eye. She encouraged me to continue this exercise, but I didn’t. So, she got out her computer and said she was going to write my note for the session while she waited for me to be ready. A few moments went by, and she voiced what she was supposedly writing: client was uncooperative in this session. OMG. I started laughing and laughed until I had tears rolling down my face. I could see my therapist trying not to join in with the laughter. I did the exercise and pulled out the words I have been talking about. I said I thought the exercise was helpful. Therapist acted out editing her note to say: client pulled herself together, cooperated with session in the last 20 minutes. I think it was helpful. My nightmares and flashbacks are down again over the last few days.

I have regained some of the weight I lost after my bariatric surgery. I really want to lose 20 lbs. To that end: I have been hiking 4-7 miles at least 5 days a week plus using the treadmill and elliptical and working with weights. I also need to get back to a protein, vegetables, and fruit diet. I have been having issues with sweets..especially chocolate and cookies. My bariatric doctor handed me a Built bar the other day. It was coconut cream and chocolate and absolutely amazingly decadent and delicious. These things have real chocolate,great flavors, 15 grams of protein, 6 grams of fiber, and 4 grams of sugar. So good. I think these might beat my sweet tooth. (I have not received any incentive from anybody to post this kind of review…but if somebody wanted to pay me in Built bars, I would accept!).

I hope you have a good week. I’m going back to reading books.

💩 journaling and more

Yesterday, I posted an article about the benefit of “shit journaling” to help relieve stress. Well, here is my shit journaling for today (in no specific ascending or descending order).

  • My 2 older boys are unremorseful pains in the donkeys. Talked with them about the devices they have stole lately. Their only remorse is that they didn’t work..to let them do whatever..probably porn.
  • There was a person serving in and out of cars today..nearly sideswiped me. I was going 45 in a 35 zone. He must have been going 65-70.
  • I was pulling into a parking space at the grocery store and a person got out of a car 2 spaces down and proceeded to walk through the spot I was already pulling into. Hello, people. I drive a fucking heavy minivan. It does not stop on a dime.
  • My kid’s teacher, upon explaining that said kid could not watch a movie on the internet for an assignment..cause porn…told me i should watch it with him and that while he understands the situation, my kid still had to complete the assignment. I was livid. Why can’t he have an article or book to read for the project? And, not for nothing, I live in the 3rd poorest city in the country. Who says all kids even have access to the internet and Netflix at home?
  • My bladder sucks. I made it through a whole say of errands with no wet pants. Came home. Went to the bathroom. 15 minutes later, wet my pants on the way to the bathroom. Ugh. I see bladder botox in my future.

These are pictures from my walk today. The weather was beautiful. Sunny and 55°. I was so energized after my walk.

I also had therapy today. Lately, my therapy sessions are basically venting about my kids and wife. The stress I’m living with is hugely impacting my mental and physical health. I keep trying to find ways to relieve the stress I feel about my kids and their behaviors. I think there really is no way. I live with freaking terrorists. I dread every day. Just writing this is making my stomach feel like it’s eating itself. Is there pain medicine for ulcers?

How to Deal


This article is about dealing with the holidays, but I loved one of the suggestions. My favorite suggestion is “shit journaling”. I’m only paraphrasing here, but it seems like it works by writing down all of the stinky crap happening in one’s life so that one can let it go. I’m not thinking only of the holidays, but of my entire life. It is full of shit right now. I see shit journaling as a wa at to vent, and maybe find some humor. But, I know, I’m not letting go of this stuff right now. Letting it go flying out the window may mean that it just comes back and slaps me in the face, making a bigger mess than the slightly controlled one I have right now.

I will try it…maybe here…and let you know how it goes.

A Hard Fall

I keep putting off writing here, as I promised myself that my next post would be positive. I’m not sure that can happen. I love the Fall, with the season change and beautiful colors. But this Fall has been hard…really hard.

My wife and I have three adopted sons. The littlest one seems pretty typical. The 2 older ones not so much. Thet are preteens who need to be watched like toddlers. They steal, lie, destroy our house, and basically cannot be trusted. It’s a pain having to not just put my purse down. I have to lock it in my room…or stuff disappears. I can’t leave my laptop out when I’m using it and then have to go to the bathroom, I have to take it with me or else it disappears. The 2 older boys cannot in any way be near the internet because the look up pornography…every single time. The real issue there is kiddy porn. I don’t want that in my house. The oldest wants to molest my youngest. The middle is terrified of the oldest because the oldest threatens to kill the middle. The middle spoke of using a knife to kill somebody the other day. The oldest took a homemade shank to school last week. I know this stuff is due to past trauma and heredity and mental illnesses. But, my body is now falling apart from stress. Chronic flare of fibromyalgia. Interstitial cystitis. Ulcer. Irritable bowel syndrome. My usual calming methods are doing nothing. I am dysregulated and panicked on a regular basis. Therapy helps cause I get to vent, but there are NO solutions. I still have my own PTSD flashbacks and nightmares to deal with.

My wife and I cannot go a day without arguing. Some of it is stress from the kids. Some of it is her stuff that I used to be able to ignore. She is often right on the edge of verbal and emotional abuse. I think she falls over that edge, but when I confront her, she says I do the same. I’m not sure if that is true or not. I’ve been way more careful, and tried to be mindful of my words, but things with her just seem worse by the day.

Recently, the oldest boy was mental hygiene arrested and taken to the psychiatric emergency room. While I was there with him, a friend offered to come and support me and another friend, hundreds of miles away, prayed. I felt their presence. I felt supported in a way I have not in a long time.

A woman at aqua yoga, whom I really don’t know well, just listened to me the other night. No advice, just said kids are hard. They are, I know. No matter what. I felt supported . My therapist has been answering every message I send her. I feel supported.

My best friend from high school lives 90 minutes away from me. She still is my best friend. A couple of years ago, she invited me to watch her eldest daughter bake Christmas cookies as a way to provide me some respite. That became a new tradition. We did it last year and just set a date for this year. I felt supported.

There are so many parks with great hiking trails where I live. They were not made for me personally, but they provide me with the cycles and wonder and awe of nature. Nature supports me with it’s beauty and trust.

I’m working on mindfulness. It’s a practice. Somedays, all I can be mindful of is the anxiety that overtakes my mind and body. I accept it and remind myself that it is actually pretty normal and acceptable that I feel this way.

No more pity party, but….

I feel like I’m dying. I’m really not. But, it feels like I might die…from embarrassment, shame, or something close to those. I really need somebody to talk to about what’s going on. I had therapy earlier today, and we worked on some material close to what’s triggering me now, but not exactly. I had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon and it made me realize that my body is still holding onto my childhood trauma just as much as my mind is, and I’m not sure how to make my mind and body let go. I have tears pouring down my face and my heart feels broken. I have therapy again on Thursday, but I need to talk to somebody now and there is no one that I’ve ever really shared this stuff with. I’d also like to curl up in someone’s arms and sob, but that won’t be happening either. Because, who would do that without wanting an explanation about what’s wrong? And I don’t think I can really explain to anybody who doesn’t already have the basic information. But, here is one thing that is both comforting and terror inducing: that my childhood sexual abuse is a contributing factor to my physical issue is actually written in my medical record now. And it needed no cross examination or proof or even, a blink of an eye.


I am miserable. Let me list the ways:

  • I miss my best friend who died almost 2 years ago.
  • I actually miss 2 friends who were like sisters to me and then just betrayed my trust and judged me.
  • I HATE those 2 friends and cannot get over how angry I am.
  • Those 2 friends got to be at my best friend’s side as she died. I didn’t. Cause those 2 friends made sure I was not welcome. I am probably forever bitter about that.
  • I’m mad at my best friend for dying. How fucking stupid of me. But there you go.
  • My oldest son is turning out to be just like my abusive father. Why? Why do I get to experience that crap on both ends of my life? I cannot stand how much I cannot stand my son at this moment. I must be the most loathsome parent ever.
  • I have had a migraine to some extent for 2 weeks.
  • My fibromyalgia is flaring.
  • I’m on an enforced therapy break because there is NOBODY to watch my 3 sons. They are a difficult trio and terrifying to the average person. Honestly, the 2 oldest ones also terrify me. I cannot wait for them to go to school so I can go to therapy.
  • I hate that my insides were damaged by the abuse I endured as a child. I hate that the damage has now worsened to the point I must take care of things (or invest in Depends). I hate that I cannot control my bladder well and i hate that i must go to the doctor and have the tests i must have to get it fixed.
  • I hate that I am so angry and bitter and overwhelmed.
  • I hate cancer. It’s affecting some of my favorite people in the world. I need these people. Doesn’t the Universe get that?

They say misery loves company, but I see no one who wants to be around me. I think the saying is wrong. I aldo think I’m indulging in a pity party for myself. I’m sorry I got you involved.

Hopefully, next time I write, the poorly attended party will be over and I will be better company.