Happy: Not Just a Perfume by Clinique December 22, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Holidays, Home Life, Life, Moods.
Heather & I were chatting online today as we often do, discussing whatever as we often do. Among sharing the ups and downs related to the holidays, the subject of general happiness came up. We agreed that while sometimes it takes actual (and sometimes even heroic) effort, it *is* in fact within our power to choose to be happy most of the time and though there are always plenty of assholes around every day that may detract from it (especially this time of year for some reason), we both think the choice to be happy is worth the effort.
One of the biggies for me at the end of every year lately, besides the fact another year has seemingly flown by which means I am one year closer to not being able to hide things with make-up, is that we still haven’t figured out a way to become parents. And you know, tick-tock – every year that goes by where that doesn’t happen, the odds of it happening drop dramatically. I didn’t bring it up in my post the other day because there was plenty enough bitching in that post as it was and I do try to keep it to a minimum if possible, if only to prevent myself from cringe-worthy moments later on. But this time of year, which let’s be honest, is certainly aimed at/about/involving kids. So whatever kid thoughts residing in the back of my mind come skipping to front and center and remains lodged like a popcorn kernel in a tooth: annoying, painful and difficult to remove.
But something weird happened today I couldn’t help but notice. I was in the middle of running those endless pre-holiday errands, dealing with the crowds and lines and major traffic fuckery, and one of my favorite songs came on the radio. You know how even though you have a song on cd or mp3 or whatever but you still get excited when it randomly surprises you. As I was pulling out of the CVS parking lot, I actually found myself singing in the truck, one of my favorite pastimes but one I can’t remember the last time I did it.
That simple little act, on a lovely cold cloudy day a few days before Christmas driving around the town I love, was enough to make something click. It wasn’t an earth-shattering epiphany, but I have the feeling it was significant even if that only means that was the moment I snapped out of a funk I was barely aware I was in. The song is beside the point but it’s Wasting My Time by Default if that matters at all. Which it kind of might because the song was out during the worst period of time of my life yet it made me happy even then. Maybe that’s what started it – thinking of how thankful I am it’s not Christmas 2001 when for the first and only time in our fifteen years together, Brian spent the holiday with someone else and I spent the day doing anything I could to avoid being conscious. Yes, that’s one holiday season I can safely say I never get nostalgic for, and man it’s nice nine years have passed since that hideous time.
So, yeah. Whatever the catalyst, I’m happy to be happy right now. There are people who have more than me; people who don’t know what it’s like to have financial worries, women whose lives are complete because they are mothers, ones whose air-dryed, productless hair hangs long and straight and glossy. There are also people – people I personally know even – who are dealing with things like breast cancer and the recent sudden death of a beloved spouse. It’s always been and will always be this way; I’m fully aware of that. Measuring your fortune against those of others isn’t a productive exercise though, and I really try to avoid that – it changes absolutely nothing about my life.
But I want to be happy. And it’s something I actually have some control over and I’m going to do my best to keep on striving to reach for no matter what. Which makes me even happier.
Not So Much Blues as Blahs December 14, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Fam Damily, Holidays, Moods, Youth.
As is fairly common for people this time of year, the other night I was stressed and foul and disgusted with humanity. It was however quickly remedied with stringing the little white lights through the ficus tree and over the mantle, Brian getting a good fire going and watching A Charlie Brown Christmas. I’ve never made it through Linus’s Bible quote without tearing up and it’s impossible for me to be in a bad mood while hearing that music. Above all the Christmas specials, that one is my childhood for me.
I said, “Remember when Christmas used to be exciting? It’s so NOT anymore.”
He replied, “Damn – I better step it up with the presents!”
And not to be totally cliche, but I said it has absolutely nothing to do with the presents. Yes, I do realize I’ll never again have that exquisite joy of excitedly trying to sleep on Christmas Eve and waking up to a tree buried in gifts, but it’s so much more than that. My parents made a huge deal out of the holidays for us (I very much appreciated the fact, even then, that besides lighting a candle for the menorah each night of Hanukkah, they felt Christmas was a lot more fun for kids and went the Santa Claus route for us). We had the usual traditions – going for the Christmas lights ride, visiting our Italian friends who opened their presents on Christmas Eve (I used to strongly campaign for that for us to no avail), eating bagels, lox and cream cheese on Christmas morning…yeah, that one was probably just ours, but still.
For me, the entire month of December used to be one long anticipatory stream of glee and that lasted well beyond high school. Even after I went away to college, that month meant school breaks and reuniting with friends to drink beer in the woods and really it felt like one long party. And I know obviously part of this whole current malaise is because we no longer have my dad – he made everything more fun, let alone the most fun time of the year. And I also realize I’m not unique in missing a loved one during the holidays. I can easily identify the reasons for these blahs; the challenge is in trying to figure out how to fix them. Or if they’re not fixable I guess learning ways around them? Something.
I just reread all that and like always, I feel guilty for even giving voice these “problems.” Awww, I’m not EXCITED anymore – go tell that to the homeless people down at the bus stop freezing their asses off this morning and see how much sympathy it produces. I know I’m lucky to even have the luxury of being warm right now, being at work and not working, drinking my sweet sweet coffee. And I have been actively trying to remind myself of all the good things I have so as to knock the meh out of me, which does work to a certain extent.
But still. I want some Christmas magic, damn it.
My Broke Brain October 3, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Moods, Whatever.
Things are pretty swell right now. I love this time of year and somehow that seems to spill over into all areas of my life, making me just happier in general. Which of course lends itself to that chain reaction thing that good energy seems to produce and all that.
But. There always has to be a but, right?
My last appointment with the brain doctor. I was talking to her about the fact I’m doing pretty good but for some reason the occasional panic attack has started rearing its annoying head again. She’s fine with prescribing me Xanax if I need it and I told her I’m feeling like I’d like to have it again, maybe if nothing more than a security device. If you can’t admit that to your therapist that, who can you tell, right? And her thing was, sure but what do you think is causing the anxiety. Well honey, that’s what I’m paying YOU the big bucks for – if I knew THAT, I’d pay MYSELF to talk to myself for an hour. Hey, that’s not actually a bad idea.
No lady – YOUR job is to help me figure this out. When things are fucked up, I’m stressed, but I deal with it. I’m used to it, whether it be money problems, fertility issues, dealing with my mother, dealing with work stress – whatever. I know how to exist fairly comfortably while in a minor state of panic. However when things are going WELL, oh boy, look out. That’s when I’m freaked out the most. The waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop syndrome. So in other words…I am unable to relax when I’m HAPPY, only when I’m NOT happy? That is fucked on so many levels. That is not how I want to live. And Xanax or no, I don’t think there’s a medication to fix that. It’s not exactly just simply anxiety and it’s not depression. It’s as simple as having migraines or pooping issues or erectile dysfunction. Being worried about things I can’t control or what may or may not happen in the future is I think, a category completely unto itself.
The doctor had some advice on dealing with the anxiety portion – write in a journal whenever it happens: where I am, what’s going on, what time of day it is, etc. Thinking that maybe if I record it for awhile we’ll be able to see a pattern developing and then maybe see if there’s a certain trigger for them. And pop a pill if it gets too bad. But the vague neurotic worrywart stuff? She didn’t really have much of an answer for that, except to try and re-train my brain to turn my thoughts around whenever it’s happening – that, and Tantric yoga. (Whenever I hear that word, I can’t help but think of Sting and his poor wife) (“Tantric,” not “yoga”). She knows me better than to suggest meditation – me, try to NOT have a thought in my head for an extended period of time? Ha! I’m a bad enough Jew and/or Christian; I’d make a terrible Buddhist.
My brain – it’s always been my worst enemy. I’ve known it for awhile. I know it’s why I have a little too much of a fondness for substances that take the edge off of things and make them nice and blurry and far away. Because besides sleeping, I never get a break from THINKING. The thoughts, they DO NOT STOP. And for a long time I maybe didn’t manage to stop them, but I was certainly successful with slowing them down a great deal. And man, the blessed relief that was.
Of course that caused all sorts of other problems – way, way bigger problems. Because unfortunately I found the perfect thing that clicked with me; the thing that made everything a little brighter, so much more optimistic, so much easier to deal with and temporary and artificial as it was, I took happiness in any form I could get it. I have an alcoholic for a parent, so you’d think I would’ve maybe seen the red flag and been a little more careful, but no, not me. Well, I take that back. But red flags are the easiest flags to ignore.
But those days are over. For two years now I’ve had to rely on almost nothing but my own self to deal with the Unpleasant Thoughts. And while I know I’ve made a lot of progress, I still think I have a long way to go. I used to say I wish I was dumb(er), because dumb people are always happy. They don’t know any better because they’re never burdened with any complicated thoughts and hey, lucky them. But that’s not really how I want to be either – is there anyone really who wishes they knew less? I don’t think so.
Finding happiness. Hard as hell, but a goal worth pursuing.
On the Bright Side, She’s Not Joan Crawford July 15, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baby-Making, Fam Damily, Life, Moods, Nail Biter, Vacation, Whatever.
Okay, I’m going to go ahead and write about this at the risk of making myself look like a total asshole. I know – what’s new, right?
So I’m sure I’ve written before about the very strained relationship I have with my mother. The fact that she’s a career alcoholic. That she was never a very happy person to begin with but after my dad died, she finally got justification for her misery and became just dismal. How it’s very hard for me to spend any amount of time with without wanting to put a bullet into my head. You get the idea. I’m going to go ahead and put a disclaimer out there, that my sister knows exactly how I feel and why and shares these feelings as well. I don’t think that’s a justification for anything, just that there is actually another person on this earth who knows exactly where I’m coming from on this.
I’m in the middle of a big internal debate right now about whether or not I’m going to visit her when I’m in Florida.
God, just writing that out loud was hard. I know how it sounds. You should’ve seen the look on Brian’s face when I finally got up the balls last night and asked him, How disappointed in me would you be if I didn’t see my mom when I’m down there? He looked at me like I’d just said I was going to take a lap around the block naked. All he really managed to say was, Well it’s your decision, but babe….Yeah. I know. Sister had a very different reaction, more like, She’s a miserable person and no matter how hard we try to be good daughters, she’s never going to be a good mother. I wouldn’t blame you a bit if you didn’t want to see her.
Guess which answer is my favorite?
On the one hand, it doesn’t matter what kind of person she is; she’s my mother. I do love her. (Right? Right.) And whenever I picture what my dad would say when I’m having these evil feelings, I feel truly ashamed of myself. Whenever either me or Sister would have some beef with her when he was still alive, he’d always say But she’s your mother. And that got the point across. As in, you may not like it and she may be acting ridiculous, but suck it up and deal with it; she’s the only mother you’ll ever have.
On the other hand, I haven’t had an easy time of it the past few months. I spent six solid months undergoing a ton of emotional strain with no resolution regarding the baby thing. My mother’s way of comforting me during that was to tell me it’s all her fault I can’t get pregnant because she had such a hard time conceiving me. And that right there folks, that, is the type of logic you get from a twisted, alcohol-addled brain. Like Sister says, she’s so immersed in her own pathetic little world, she can’t hear anyone else’s story but her own. Doesn’t really make for healthy mother/daughter dialogue and it’s a challenge when I’m HAPPY, let alone when I’m going through a bunch of shit.
I’ve been working really hard to pull myself up out of a really deep funk and I think I’ve done a fairly decent job of it over the past month or so. Eating better, exercising and not pumping raging hormones into your body will do wonders that way. But still, and this isn’t an exaggeration – why should I subject myself to someone who only makes me feel uncontrollable rage every time I see her? I go to great lengths to avoid negative people and things, so the fact that she wins the prize for most miserable isn’t very convenient that way.
But I guess family isn’t always meant to be shits and giggles. That’s what I have friends for.
I don’t know. Right now I’m tentatively planning to possibly stop in at the golf course one afternoon and surprise her at work. This has two benefits: 1. She’ll be sober, (or as much as can be expected when more vodka runs through your veins than blood) and 2. The visit will have a definite time limit, and that limit is an hour. Yes, she’ll be surprised in a bad way that I just showed up out of the blue from two states away without telling her first. And that will force me to tell a white lie (why it always gotta be white?) and say I decided at the last minute to drive down for my uncle’s surgery. Which has a bit of truth to it. Shit, I don’t know. I have the feeling it’s going to be something I don’t actually decide until I’m there. And I have a whole week left to torture myself over it – my favorite!
So yeah, if you ever wondered if I’m a bad person – mystery solved.
I don’t want to end on a downer note, so I’ll pose a question. Are married couples who communicate to each other through Facebook as douchey as they seem? Mrs. So-and-so’s status: “I LOVE YOU, HUNNY!” Mr. So-and-so’s status: “I LOVE YOU MORE, SWEETUMS!” Sometimes I wish Brian was more into computer stuff until I see things like that. Somebody pass the barf bag; I feel a vom comin’ on.
Okay then; whew!
Bunny Farts and Lollipops Forever,
Little Miss Sunshine
I Smell (no) Sex & Candy June 26, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Home Life, Marriage, Moods, The Man, Work.
Boy. Don’t ever go all over the internet about what a saintly wonderful man you are married to and how he’s so perfect it’s all you can do to keep from fallin’ on your knees to start blowin’. I should know better than to do something like that – my Spidey senses completely failed me yesterday.
It was true though and I came home from work with my heart full to bursting with love for my man. He was solely responsible for my good spirits, having been completely loving and supportive and saying all the right things outside the doctor’s office to console me after our not-so-happy appointment. Not that he was just “saying the right thing” to make me feel better; Brian doesn’t waste his words on platitudes and bullshit. I know he really meant all of it. So, yeah. Full of love. Whatever.
He arrived home shortly thereafter and only had a few minutes before sadly he had to change out of his landscaping clothes into his tile clothes and drive off to work away the second half of the day. I get it. He’s been working his ass off the past week and he’s exhausted to the point of the absurd. However.
He grabbed a sandwich and sat down so we could catch up for a few minutes with each other and the news. For news junkies like us, this has been a banner week both in our state’s government and the entertainment industy at large. Banner. I’d also started to sit down, when he did something so out of character, it literally stopped me in my tracks.
I’ve been counting calories, see. Like, really counting calories. To the point where if I eat five Now & Later’s and I don’t have my little calorie journal right there, I will save the five Now & Later wrappers so that I remember to log those stupid empty calories into the book. Well. Apparently I should’ve thrown away those wrappers Now rather than Later, because he sort of pissily (new word) pushed them aside and said “Nice. Were you just going to leave those there?”
I may have slightly overreacted a little.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME! OH MY GOD, THIS IS PERFECT. I SO NEEDED YOU TO TURN INTO A DICK TODAY; TODAY OF ALL DAYS! THIS WHOLE HOUSE IS A FILTHY PIECE OF SHIT AND YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT SOME CANDY WRAPPERS??? WHEN’S THE LAST TIME YOU DID ANYTHING AROUND HERE? ALL I DO IS WALK AROUND BEHIND YOUR ASS AND CLEAN UP YOUR SHIT – YOU CAN’T EVEN PUT A DIRTY DISH IN THE DISHWASHER, BUT OH FUCK NO, THAT’S OKAY BECAUSE YOU KNOW IT’LL MAKE IT IN THERE ANYWAY, RIGHT? NO NO, THAT’S OKAY – LEAVE YOUR LAUNDRY RIGHT THERE, I’LL WASH IT FOR YOU AND DRY IT AND PUT IT AWAY, RIGHT? AAAAAAGGGHHHHH!!!!”
Him: “Don’t bother; I’ll do it myself.”
“OH HELL NO! GOD FORBID I SIT AROUND HERE WITH NOTHING TO DO – THANKS FOR THIS, NOW I WON’T BE BORED TONIGHT! AAAAAGGGHHH!!!”
Yeah, I’m glad I’m so calm and rational.
We yelled back and forth for a few minutes (and by we I mean me since he really never yells), he left and then I called him so we could continue to argue while he drove. Drove to go work a second job after working the first job outside in the stupid heat all day. I know. I’m a delight. Of course, before he returned home (at 11:30, making it a nice quick 17-hour workday for him) we’d already talked a few more times and things were all better. In fact, he used the breaking news about Michael Jackson as an excuse for him to call and apologize for hurting my feelings.It usually isn’t too long before we’re friends again.
I was talking to a friend later and she so correctly summed it up: we’re both emotionally, mentally and physically drained, the steam’s been building and it had to blow sometime. He probably wasn’t really that upset about candy wrappers and I might have taken the criticism a tad too personally. A-yup.
But I need to say something here, just between you and me. I resent the fact that our society dictates that when a house is messy, the woman is the only one the criticism gets directed toward. Friends or family come over – they’re not going to look around and think, “Hmm, Brian could sure do some cleaning around here!” No. Brian isn’t even going to register on that radar. And no matter how much help he gives or doesn’t give me, it’s always going to reflect on me. It doesn’t matter that I work fulltime too. Or that a lot of my free time is spent helping him do extra work. If we’re both sitting on our asses long enough for things to fall into disarray, my ass is the only one getting called a shitty housekeeper.
Sadly I know this is never going to change. Whaddaya gonna do, right? He told me as soon as this ridiculous schedule is over with sometime next week, he will help me really clean the place up. But as evil as I can sometimes be, I can also be nice. I’ve already gotten a good start and by the end of this weekend, we’re going to be living in a whole new house. I know both of us are happier that way and really, isn’t that the ultimate goal?
So it’s good he got pissed about the candy wrappers. But I can’t help but wonder if he’d still have said anything if he knew I was planning a blow job for him last night. My guess is no.
Can’t say baby where I’ll be in a year May 29, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Health, Life, Moods.
Yesterday I had another appointment with the therapist person. I’m pretty sure I like her. I’m almost positive I do. Unlike Brian, who is of the opinion psychology/psychiatry/whatever is for the most part crap, (that’s not all his fault; he gets it from his mother) I think it’s something that can be extremely beneficial, depending on the individual, his/her situation and the doctor. There’s no denying a certain amount of bullshit is involved, but I feel that way about most professions so it’s not a biggie to me.
Yesterday’s topic was obviously the third failed IUI. I told her my period arrived last Sunday right before Brian was leaving to go out of town but that I wasn’t surprised about it like I’d been the previous two times. So besides sleeping most of that day and being a little down this week, I think I’m doing pretty okay. Note: doc wasn’t even tryin’ to hear that. She looked at me. An uncomfortable length of eye contact time ensued. Then:
Her: So. You’re doing okay?
Me: Yeah, I really think so.
Her: So you’ve cried over it and in a matter of four days have moved on?
Me: Well no, but…
Her: Oh. So you haven’t even CRIED yet?
And it was at that point I believe she made it her mission in life to make me cry. I’m not saying she told me I look fat and my roots are showing. She just seemed very goal orientated. As in her To Do list looked like this: (1) make patients cry (2) make them stop crying (3) go home satisfied I’ve done my part to make the world a better place. The worst part – her evil plan worked. I kind of laughed as I reached for the tissue box that just happened to be sitting on the small table next to me; it’s not often you recognize the moment you become a human cliche.
Her opinion is that I’m practicing the art of avoidance. Okay, fair enough. I’m burying my feelings, not dealing with it, etc. Which, okay – I can see that. And I understand that’s not good. But then she told me I need to FEEL my feelings before I can move on. So I said, “Okay, so how do I do that?” she didn’t have an answer for me. Her recommendations included write in my journal (check), continue to exercise (I haven’t every day, but I’ve gotten much more consistent) and either talk about it with people or don’t, depending on how I feel. Um…okay. That wasn’t what I’d call a huge revelation, lady. Your gentle suggestions for me to do things I’m already doing makes me a little cranky. But then again anyone who ends a therapy session by poorly singing Aerosmith (“Sweeeeet Emooootion…”) is A-okay in my book.
Weekend! Starts in 4.5 hours!
Happy bloody Memorial Day May 25, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baby-Making, Holidays, Home Life, Moods, Movies.
Right as Brian was running around yesterday getting ready to leave, I went to the bathroom and saw that my period was in the process of arriving. The scary part was the almost absolute emotionless reaction I had. Considering I didn’t once for a minute believe I was pregnant this time, I guess it’s not too surprising. I could tell he felt bad but I didn’t want to make a big scene right before he left to drive two hours to see family, so I didn’t. After he left though, and it started raining and I went to the bathroom again just to confirm what was true, I thought, Wow, I wonder if this day could this day suck any more? No, I don’t think it could. Then I accidentally rammed my toe into the cabinet under the bathroom sink and thought, Ahh, yes.
I half-assed started cleaning up, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. Which now that I think about it, I actually was reacting to getting my fucking period; I just wasn’t really allowing myself to acknowledge it too much. But when I woke up from a three hour nap, I was ready for the pity party to be done with. Each of the last two times this has happened, all I wanted was to be left alone for the day and hey, here I was. I spent the rest of the day doing laundry, reading, making potato salad in honor of it being a cook-out holiday and renting a non-Brian movie off of PPV, Rachel Getting Married, which was good and worth the $3.99.
Today I’m one of a small skeleton crew here at work, which is a good mix of being out of the house and also somewhat left alone. It hasn’t been the kickoff to Summer celebration weekend for me that it is for most people, but this has never been a significant holiday for me anyway, so it’s fine. I’m thankful to all our vets, but I live with a man who watches the History Channel a lot and get plenty of opportunities to be thankful and cry for them.
The highlight so far has been my cousin Scott emailing to let me know there’s a Land of the Lost marathon on the SciFi channel today and he’s ecstatically introducing his older daughter to what used to be our favorite show when we were her age. I’m looking forward to watching a couple of episodes when I get home and I’m damn sure going to see the movie when it comes out, even though I know it’ll be nothing like the show. Scott and I used to “play” Land of the Lost and the most fun part was always going over the waterfall. Now it’s being described as a “cult classic,” so I doubt anyone knows what the hell I’m even talking about so I’ll stop.
I’m looking forward to Brian coming home this afternoon. I did fine without him, what with avoiding getting murdered in the shower while home alone and all, but yeah, life is much more fun with him around. I don’t know what’s next on the baby agenda, but I’m finding it difficult to care right now. Life goes on and it’s still better than the alternative.
Whoa, can you FEEL the ennui?
I’m fine. Really.
Round and round May 21, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baby-Making, Moods, The Man.
So I’ve shared with one of the social workers here about the recent details of my life, Re: fun with fertility. I mean, what better way to get some free therapy, right? Actually we’d been discussing something else and then out of the blue she asked if everything was okay with me, which took me aback. Here I’ve been so proud of how well I’ve held my shit together and faked it til I maked it in front of co-workers, not revealing anything about the hormonal roller coaster I’ve been riding without interruption for six months. UP and down, UP and down, and I’m tired and dizzy and feel like I could spray vom down the front of my shirt at any moment.
She said, “I don’t mean to pry, but it seems like you have a lot on your mind lately and I just wanted to make sure everything is okay at home.” Which is technically prying, but okay. I’ve been feeling beat down with this thing and when she said that, I took it as my cue to turn into a snotting, sob-heaving mess right there in her office for a little while. Later, like the next time I’m having trouble sleeping, I’ll probably rehash it all in my mind how I shouldn’t have gotten so personal and be regretful and embarrassed about coming unglued in front of her and all that but right now I feel sort of relieved.
Well, except for one thing she said. Which was: “Kim, if you want to be a mother, you will be, somehow. We may not know exactly how yet, but you will do this. And you’ll be a great one. That’s what I can tell you.” And gave me a hug, which I repaid by leaving a large snot stain on her shirt.
But I didn’t pursue that line of talk, which I took to mean what several other people have suggested as well – adoption. That is something that he and I have discussed only in the abstract and never very enthusiastically. I’m not saying I’m against it; in fact ever since the last IUI, I’ve been thinking maybe I need to start talking to some of the adoption people who I conveniently work with every day and at least try to find out some answers to all the scary, overwhelming questions I have about even how to start the process.
That’s when most people get pregnant, right – when the adoption ball has started rolling? Yeah, another platitude I’ve heard many, MANY times over the years. It doesn’t help. I know people mean well when they say it, but when all your energy is going to keep thoughts like, I WILL NEVER GET PREGNANT, I WILL NEVER BE A MOTHER, I DON’T DESERVE IT ANYWAY at bay, trust me – it doesn’t help.
I made Brian promise me after we started this that I would become a mother. He may have just been trying to get me to stop standing in the doorway of the computer room being psycho so he could go back to his poker game, but no; he has been a super trooper through this shit and he does keep his promises to me, so…there’s that. But if that does have to mean adoption, that brings a whole new and different slew of issues. Like how important his ancestry is to him. How he laughs fondly over how much his nephew looks exactly like his brother. How that male proclivity to reproduce to keep the family bloodline going seems so fucking embedded in him. Not that I’m just accusing him of those feelings; obviously part of my desire to become a mother is of course to have my husband’s child; made up of him and me, old school style. I’d say that’s pretty obvious, but I still felt the need to clarify, just in case there were any doubts.
I feel like to even talk about it with him is the first step in depriving him of something really important. And at this point he’d just say I’m jumping the gun, that this process hasn’t failed yet so why am I already giving up. I can clearly hear him say it. But this is how my mind works and I know myself too. When I find out next week that this has failed again, (I’m allowed to test Monday, but I’m QUITE SURE I’ll start bleeding sometime around then, just like fucking clockwork, just like every other fucking month)I need to know how to proceed and quickly move onto the next plan. Because I’m afraid of where my mind might go otherwise.
Lifestyles of the poor and poopy April 28, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baby-Making, Home Life, Moods, Work.
As a general rule if my personal life is in the shitter, work is usually smooth sailing and vice versa. I figure it falls under that old myth about God not giving you any more than He thinks you can handle type thing. Which out of all the stuff out there advertised, I tend to buy into since I can site many examples of this being the case with my life.
God, or Whomever must not have gotten the memo this week.
Remember that whole thing about me getting my period Sunday? Yeah, that hasn’t changed. And what a positive attitude I had last week after attending that inspirational conference – I mean, I felt absolutely ecstatic about coming back to work this week and applying all the neat new positive stuff I’d learned. Which was squashed during the first half of Monday when the shit pile kept getting bigger and bigger and for every one thing I crossed off my to-do list, three more EMERGENCIES got added.
I mean, it’s only Tuesday and I feel like I’ve spent an entire week at work already. That’s never good. It hit me at some point today there’s no way I’ll be able to enjoy my usual Friday off this week; now I’m just hoping I won’t have to be in the office all day.
This morning, as I raced into town to make my ultrasound appointment, I got this sick feeling I’d forgotten the checkbook and a quick search through my purse confirmed this. At the same time I was simultaneously envisioning my debit card lying on the computer desk where I’d left it after paying a bill online. Who shows up to a doctor’s appointment without means to pay? Me. But in I went anyway, thinking Screw it. Because being the expert I now am at fertility and all its wonders, I knew there was no choice but to have the ultrasound done this morning – certain things must happen at certain times – and if they refused me, it would throw off this entire cycle – a whole month wasted. They’d either take my word that I’m good for it and that I’d pay later or take the blame for messing up my chances to get pregnant. For the third time in a row.
Sometimes it pays not to give a shit. Besides having the longest ultrasound in history (I can now honestly say I’ve had an object inserted in one orafice for twenty-eight consecutive minutes), the payment thing wasn’t an issue. They know me well by now, which is either good or bad, depending on how you look at it. The nurse even stopped herself after she’d begun to give me the injection lesson, saying “What am I saying -y’all are pro’s at this by now.” Yes. Yes we are.
I got home this afternoon just absolutely wiped out, when something occured to me and I panicked. The electic bill. When was the last time I paid it? Who knew. I told Brian I had a weird feeling it might be due soon and he said there was an unopened bill on the table. I opened it and read the big bold letters: “Service will be disconnected if not paid by 4/28/2009 at 5:00 p.m. It was 4:53. Considering I’m now using the computer to write this, you can probably presume I made the payment on time. Because after reading about everybody’s adventures with air conditioning over the last week or so, no offense, but I wasn’t interested in joining the ranks of the hot and sweaty. Not this week.
So I guess even though work is a big fart bubble right now and I’m once again smack in the middle of prepping my eggs for insemination (that will be on Sunday or Monday, depending on how the follicles decide to grow this time) it could be worse. If I’ve learned anything in this life, it can ALWAYS be worse.
Happy Deadliest Catch Night – when life is an asshole, TV never lets me down.
Like James Brown I too feel good April 24, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Fam Damily, Moods, Work.
I’m all bubbly and cheerful today, for no real discernable reason. Well, there are reasons I guess. I’m not sure why I feel the need to qualify being in a good mood; maybe I should have that looked at.
The conference yesterday was surprisingly great. After a hellish trip through downtown traffic, being forced to park in a parking garage (I have an irrational fear of parking garages; maybe from watching too many movies where someone gets killed in one or maybe from a time when I was so high going to see a movie and having to park in one where it felt like we would just keep driving in circles up and up and up until we reached the sky, I don’t know) and walking at a brisk pace when really I wanted to run into the convention center so I wouldn’t be late – the day got much better from there.
The speakers they had were amazing and that always helps. I scoff a lot at self-help things, Oprahisms and the like, but I swear – you get the right kind of person with an energetic and inspiring attitude and I will be your drone every time. And the funny part is it’s all stuff I already know; the power of positive thinking, being open to possibility, that everything in your life results from choices you make, that you’re the only one who can truly give yourself happiness – that could all be filed under D for Duh. But sometimes you need to hear those things to feel like you’ve gained back that positive perspective on things. I wish they had these things every month instead of once a year.
I am a natural born worrywart. (“Wart” is such an ugly word; who thought of that? I’d much rather be a worryflower or a worrybunny) I don’t know if it’s the Jew gene, the fact that my dad and his mother are like this or just the luck of the draw, but I hate it. It’s exhausting and also a big waste of time. If I could somehow figure out how to make it stop completely (besides self-medicating), I’d be one happy bitch. But some of the thinking tools that were shared yesterday were definitely a good start and they gave out one of the speaker’s books to us so maybe I WILL become a self-help nut. That would be a treat, wouldn’t it?
Also, I won a door prize – dinner for two at the Blue Marlin, a trendy downtown restaurant. Weirdly at beginning of the day when they announced there were a bunch of great prizes I got a strong feeling I was going to win one. That goes against all pessimistic thinking, so I’m now certain I’m psychic. More proof. On the way there, I thought of one of Brian’s aunts out of the blue; mostly because of the fact that I was thinking about the haircut I’m getting today and that his aunt has had the same 1940’s secretary hairstyle since she was a teenager. Then who do I see at the conference, but her. My psychic network hotline was on FIRE and I’m totally playing the lottery this weekend! No. But I should!
It’s good to have an ally in the family for situations like this weekend (all described in the last post). I stopped in at my sister-in-law’s salon on the way home yesterday and she’s as unexcited about the family activities as I am which is great since George is actually her real father! We’re getting together for a pre-event lunch today, where we’ll pick up presents and whatever and she’s also cutting my hair. Being close with her makes me not the outsider and that’s comforting in awkward family situations. Just like my own sister and I are when we have to deal with OUR family. Sisters are truly magical things, especially when they share your sense of black-hearted humor.
Still no period yet.
Happy Friday! Keep on rockin’ in the free world.