Judgement

My insecurities about myself are so huge that I don’t even need others’ opinions – I’ve already decided what you are going to say. I judge myself so harshly that I’m convinced everyone must think that way about me too. And a lot of it revolves around my weight.

I’m not happy about my weight.  I don’t like being fat.  However I do like having friends who struggle with their weight too.  Then I don’t feel alone.  I REALLY like it when I have a friend who is as big or even bigger than I.  I feel more confident that they aren’t judging me.  That they aren’t thinking “what a fat lard ass” or something similar. I *know* that my skinny friends aren’t REALLY thinking that about me, but since *I* am – I project it onto others.

When I lose any weight at all, I feel really empowered.  Like superwoman. Yes look at me – I can lose weight. Aren’t I terrific?  WTG me!  Wahoo!!  It’s my own little happy dance in my head.  However its typically short lived, as I can’t seem to stick to anything.

However -if my friends lose weight, I have a very different reaction.  I’m jealous, angry and resentful.  How dare they lose weight? Now they won’t like me anymore. Now they will realize how pathetic I am because I’m still fat.  Again I *KNOW* it’s not what they are truly thinking – but I think that.  If they regain weight, I’m relieved.  Which is so mean – why can’t I just be happy for them losing?  Why do I get satisfaction out of their failure?  I hate that.  AND  – if I lose weight I assume others will say (and my FIL has, so I guess there is truth) “don’t get used to this, you will likely gain it back.”  So in some ways it has seemed pointless to try.  I’m just going to end up fat again so why bother going thru the cycle.  And if others gain their loss back – it proves that theory right.  And for those who have successfully lost and stay slimmer – they seem to have an obsession of exercise or calories etc.  God – I do NOT want to live like that. But the other part of me is also thinking that THEY are thinking “thank god I work out, or watch what I eat, or I’ll end up looking like GP”  or “if GP just got off her ass, she could look like me too”  And the worst one is “I better not hang out with GP anymore because she’s fat, and I don’t want her bad habits to wreck my hard work”  So as friends lose weight I’m convinced that they will cease being my friend because I’m still fat.  And if I lose weight I’m worried my heavier friends will be thinking that stuff about ME, and I’ll lose them.  And I don’t want to lose them – so I don’t want then to lose weight.

When I’m at a grocery store, I assume everyone is looking at my food choices and judging.  “oh no wonder she’s fat – she’s buying ice cream”  Or “geez there aren’t enough veggies there, that’s why she looks like that”.   And if I see someone with a healthy line up of food, I instantly think “that’s why they look great and I don’t”  But if I see someone else with a bakery cheesecake slice, or cookies, I don’t think anything about it. Well – I might think “mmmm, wish I was getting that!”

The projected judgement extends past food and weight.  Its on everything.  Right now, the biggest ones on my brain are about my ability to teach again and my competence as a parent.  I’ve been so critical and scared.  I’ve kept the truth about a lot of the struggles I’ve had recently a secret from many. I was convinced that my daughter’s struggles and our messed up home life was all my fault.  Only very recently have I been able to accept the real possibility that it was NOT my doing.  And I’ve started to let more know.  In fact NOW I’m afraid that if I don’t let others know what’s been going on, they will assume other things about me, and I’ll be judged incorrectly!  I didn’t want to tell any co-workers what’s happened, in fear of being judged as a bad parent.  NOW I want them to know, so that they will know that I wasn’t just in some lame depression for so long,. . I’ve already decided that THEY feel I won’t be a good teacher anymore and that THEY don’t want me back working with them.  But I feel that by being off work, that they are all thinking I’m useless, lazy and a drain on society.  I feel damned if I do and damned if I don’t.  And since basically none of them have even spoken to me in almost a year, I’m only guessing anyways.

And that’s the worst part.  Its ME.  *I* am the one making all these judgements.  Not ONE person has said, I won’t be your friend when you lose weight.  Or now that I’ve lost weight, piss off.  Or you are a drain on society. Or you are a bad parent.  Or you won’t be able to teach again.  It’s all ME saying that.  I convince myself that if someone sees my granny panties in the laundry, that they will laugh at me for wearing them.  That if I hung my panties on the line for the world to see, I would be shunned forever. SIGH.  I need to keep telling myself – if Walmart is selling them in 6 packs – I can’t be the only one wearing them, so what am I hiding?!  who’s judging who?

and that’s me. GP.

That inner voice.

Well this post is thanks to my wonderful therapist.  She has spent the last 2 1/2 years with me on this roller coaster of life.  She has seen me at my absolute lowest of lows and has been riding the waves every week on my journey of healing.

Today we spent a lot of time challenging my inner voice. I’m not talking about the one that guides you well. You know – the OTHER one – that negates everything good, by pointing out the bad.    Some call it the dog or man on their shoulder.  Michelle from the Cedric Centre  calls it “the drill sergeant,” in her book Food is Not the Problem.  http://www.cedriccentre.com/books/

Honestly, no matter what you call that voice – its annoying to hear. That incessant chirping in my head never shuts up. I referred to that voice today as “psycho bitch”.  I can’t give myself accurate credit for ANYTHING without my psycho bitch telling me how it isn’t good enough, or I didn’t do x,y or z, I “should” have done better. When the voice was called The Drill Sergeant, I could accept it, but I didn’t really feel a direct association to her. But Wow, when I called her a “psycho bitch”, that upset me. I DO associate myself with that voice.  So suddenly I was calling myself a psycho bitch, and I was hurting yet again.

I don’t want to be a psycho bitch.  I don’t want to BE that voice.  And yet I’m guided or rather “mis”guided constantly by her.  I don’t get how she’s “protecting me” or “helping me get thru anything”.  She’s pushing and shoving and knocking me down every time I try and make a single step.  She’s my storm wrecking my beach, and hiding my shells.  She’s breaking up the shells and leaving jagged edges for me to cut my feet on.  And I’m fed up.

I don’t want to be this negative, this jaded, this distrustful.  I don’t want to be lazy or useless.  I don’t want to be fat, or diabetic.  I don’t want to be mentally unstable and depressed.  And yet it feels like EVERY single time I make a step in the direction of something “better”, or “healthier” or more balanced, good ole psycho bitch is there to make sure I end up back on my ass on the ground. And THEN points, laughs and tells me how useless and crappy I am.  That I’ll never be better or successful and that I’m a FAILURE.

It has happened so often that that feels normal. So I’ve just come to accept that I’m a failure.  That I AM this psycho bitch who can’t do anything right.  And that makes me sad, so I cry on the inside, and often those tears leak out. So now I’m a blubbering psycho bitch.  GREAAAT.  Just what i wanted.  How attractive. NOT!!!!

My counselor says that the role of the drill sergeant has value and a purpose, but needs to let my other parts – the ones that see the good things – have more time and space.  Ok.  So we made a list of things I’m proud of doing.  Not monumental life changing things – everyday stuff.  And EVERY time I wrote something down, my psycho bitch was pestering me with the “yeah but you didn’t do….” or “Yeah but you SHOULD be doing…”.   SHUT UP!!! Just SHUT THE FUCK UP!!  I don ‘t want to hear it anymore.  I’ve HEARD you long enough.  JUST SHUT UP!!! PLEASE!

There isn’t enough room for that attitude.  She’s hogging all the space.  She’s controlling every move and every thought.  I want to be able to sit in my LR right at this moment and see the 4 piles of folded towels and linens and think “good job – you did the laundry”  But instead I’m hearing “lazy lazy lazy you STILL haven’t put those away.  Are you EVER gonna get off your ass and do it?”

Instead of looking at the pile of mail, bills and flyers beside me and thinking “Geez I’m a slob – those need to be put away and/or in the garbage” I WANT to be able to think “Yeah – you sorted all the mail, and paid the bills. Great job”   But I just CAN’T.

And even though the thoughts are bringing me down, and it would take all of 5 minutes to get the towels put away, or the mail into the recycle bin.  I can’t do that either! It’s like I WANT to be stuck – so the psycho bitch can be right and at least then I can have something to believe that’s true.  YUP I’m a lazy useless no good failure.  Psycho Bitch has known it all along and now I can see she is right.

I can’t seem to find that switch to change my thinking.  I feel so stuck and I’m so frustrated.  If you don’t live with an overbearing inner voice, I can’t explain it.  Just imagine your worst enemy following you around NON-STOP nitpicking at EVERY single thing you do. Relentlessly trying to push you into an abyss from which there is no return. Until finally you just fall into it and say “there” “you got me”.

I guess its the same thing as parents and teachers being told “don’t label kids with negative associations, or they may just achieve them ”  Is that what happened to me?  Was I told “you are so smart, you can do better”  “Nothing lower than a B is acceptable” too often, and now I can’t be happy with average?

Everyone has inner voices, just like everyone wear’s underwear.  (OR should!!).  But our voices seem to have different sizes.  Some drill sergeants are small and don’t occupy much space – like wearing a thong I guess!  My drill sergeant’s voice is like my panties – OVERSIZED and dominant.  But unlike my granny panties which are comfortable, my inner voice is NOT comforting.  So I’m going to keep working at hearing her comments and telling her to step aside and let others speak.  That I’m NOT INTERESTED in her feedback THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

And that’s me! GP

 

Allergies and Peanut Butter

As a kid I knew of ONE child who had allergies.  She was allergic to dust and pet hair. Her room was a sterile environment.  She wasn’t allowed any books or toys that could collect dust. No stuffies, no rugs, etc.  She wasn’t allowed to my house because we had pets. And at Guide camps she sure suffered when everyone brought out their dusty foam mattresses, old sleeping bags as we slept in ancient canvas tents.  She was a sniffling sneezing mess.  I felt so sorry for her.

I wasn’t aware that the reason we always had ham and turkey at Christmas was because my aunt was allergic to turkey.  As I grew older I discovered my Grandma was allergic to Shellfish.  But it wasn’t a big deal. I’d never heard of an epipen or life-threatening reactions.

Allergies just weren’t talked about.   At 7 when I got my ears pierced, we diligently used the ear care cleaner in the pink bottle.  By day 2, I was covered in bright red, itchy welts. 

 

I took a bath in baking soda.  My mum said I was likely allergic to something in the ear care stuff and we stopped using it.  In my early teens I got mega itchy and a dot like rash every time I swam in a pool. Again Mum said – probably allergic to chlorine.  Anytime I was around cigarette smoke, I’d get congested, have a hard time breathing etc. I guessed maybe an allergy?  At 17 I reacted to a penicillin medication with the same red itchy welts I’d had 10 years earlier. And the Dr said – likely an allergic reaction. I had some allergy testing done in my early 20’s.  They didn’t test most of the above items – instead it was revealed that I’m allergic to clover (ahh, now it makes sense why when people mow their lawns I get sneezy and stuffy) and tomato (now that rash on my hands I got each time I did tomato prep at the sandwich deli made sense).  

I basically thought allergies meant that you would end up itchy and sneezing.  Nothing life threatening. Just inconvenient. (It never occurred to me that my stomach issues might be related to EATING tomato)

 

During my university years, a classmate was suddenly hospitalized.  She was making peanut butter cookies and suddenly couldn’t breathe.  She’d made them zillions of times in the past.  Turns out she was now allergic to peanut butter.  Now she had to carry an epipen.   My husband and one of his brothers both developed an allergy to dust and pet fur in their late 30’s. They both could just suffer thru it. But how can someone just suddenly become allergic?  And to the point of being life threatening?  It doesn’t make sense?

But now as a teacher and parent, I encounter life threatening allergies with kids all the time.  There isn’t a pre-school, elementary class, cub group etc, that doesn’t have someone majorly allergic to something.  Epipens are common.

I know kids with major allergies to nuts, peanuts, wasps, eggs, dairy, even mustard. This is in addition to all the wasp, dust, feather, pet, etc allergies.

HOW did our society end up so allergic?  Is our environment so toxic our bodies are rebelling?  or is it our endless use of disinfectants etc causing a reverse response, to the point of rejecting our basic surroundings? Is our food so processed that we can’t handle it anymore?

Lets face it, eggs and dairy and nuts and feathers and pets have been around for centuries.  And yet there isn’t story after story of someone’s great grandpa just dropping dead at the dinner table because he couldn’t breathe after eating something.  Or not able to work in the field or barn because they were sneezing too much.  So WHAT HAPPENED?  Its radically changed in my 40 years.

EpiPen

My own daughter now has an epipen.  She was stung by a wasp in June.  She has been stung 2 other times and never reacted at all.  But this time, her face swelled up. You couldn’t see her bottom lip because the top one protruded so much. One eye was nearly swollen closed.  “likely an allergy, better carry an epipen in case the next time is worse”.   Are we over-reacting?  Part of me thinks yes, and yet the part of me that doesn’t want my daughter to suffer – says NO, so we have the epipen.

However, do I think its right to ban peanut products in schools etc? NO I don’t!!  Do I want another child to die? Of course not.  But does that child have the right to dictate what my kid can have for lunch? I don’t think so.  My son has an allergy to dust (as do many).  But did the school rip out their ancient chalk boards? NO.  He and all the asthma suffers (and THAT never was around when I was a kid either), all have to suffer.  Can you ban all the wasps from flying around the playground? NO.  If my kid had a wheat allergy would you ban sandwiches? NO.  If my kid had a dairy allergy would everyone be told – don’t bring milk for lunch? NO.  But for some reason Peanut butter is special!  And I think its a bunch of BULL!

Banning peanut butter isn’t making the school safe.  If my kid eats PB for breakfast and doesn’t wash her hands, or brush her teeth, there is still a trace amount of it on her fingers or breath.  So IF your child is sensitive to the smell or to trace amounts, banning it from the school, hasn’t protected her has it? My child might use the monkey bars.  Or worse my child might sit and read a library book AT HOME, while enjoying her PB&J, AT HOME. That book may now be contaminated!  And since your kid may borrow that book – I guess he could die?  So I guess we better ban library books from going home too? c’mon… Where does it end?

For years, my very sensitive picky eater ate virtually NO protein products AT ALL.  Trying to feed her has been beyond frustrating and challenging.  Peanut butter has been ONE staple.  Often it was the ONLY protein she would consume.  (and I mean the ONLY one!).

So if I complied with the “no peanut butter” rule, my child’s health and nutrition would be severely impaired. My son at one point was on a mega high fibre diet.  He couldn’t just substitute ham in his sandwich for the peanut butter. (as I was told by the school) Ham had no fibre, his PB had 2 grams.  His jam had 1.  There was 3 extra grams of fibre I was getting into him. His granola bar had 5 grams. (but it had nuts and I was being told NO to that too)  It was for his health. He had a medical condition.  But the allergy kid’s rights were trumping my kids’ rights.  I don’t think so! I was told, just feed him the fibre stuff at home. WHAT?!  Really?

You want me to get 35 grams of fibre into my child via 2 meals?  uhhh NOOOO.  It needed to be given evenly throughout his day.  I stood my ground. I was the enemy.  I was inconsiderate.  I apparently wanted kids to die.  NO I didn’t.  But I wasn’t going to let someone’s allergy bully me.

I have NO issue if you want MY kid to eat their life threatening PB sandwich in a separate area.  I have told my kids – WASH your hands VERY carefully.  Don’t touch anything with dirty fingers or let your food touch anything. Ask if anyone around has an allergy.  BE CONSIDERATE.  I’m trying to raise Allergy aware kids. Not assassins.

I get that the mother of a peanut allergy kid is freaked out every time she lets her kid venture out into his day, concerned he might react or die.  But that child too, has to learn that this world is a risky environment and to be cautious.  Carry and USE the epipen if needed.

The mom of a girl who is very allergic to mustard (which is in some cheese – did you know that?) AGREES with me.  She didn’t insist on hot dog days being banned because some kids want mustard on them.  NO. She didn’t think that was reasonable.  Instead her daughter is just MEGA careful.  To me this makes sense.

So I will continue to send my kids with their PB sandwiches or granola bars with NUTS.  We will not substitute the highly sugary Nutella spread instead of Peanut butter.  We tried almond butter – my kids didn’t like it – but using Nutella or almond butter doesn’t help the kid with the tree nut allergy anyways.  This month my daughter is a lunch monitor in a class with a kindergarten child allergic to peanut butter. I’m in dilemma.  My child is CHOOSING to lunch monitor.  She didn’t choose that class.  That 5 yr old is NEW to school and probably not as aware of safety.  So I’m thinking for the ONE month she is in this class, I won’t send peanut butter.  Or maybe I will and tell her to eat it at recess?  I dunno. I haven’t decided what’s best.

I’m not out to kill anyone.  I’m a good person.  I’m a considerate person.  I don’t want ANY child to suffer.  Including MINE!

And that’s me! GP.

 

Tears of Love

 

It seems I’m destined to cry.  A LOT.  For so long I’ve wept or sobbed tears of grief. Then tears of endless frustration and exhaustion.  Now its seems I am crying over good things.  I’m like a permanent  fountain of tears set to ON.  All the time.

Lately anytime anybody does or says anything good to me or about me, I cry.  I just instantly well up. If I can’t dodge the comment or change the subject I end up crying.  I’m embarrassed.  I feel like I’m being overly sensitive and silly.

I think I’ve struggled so long thinking I was alone, or being negatively judged, that when someone shows compassion and understanding I just burst.  I’m too tired to be strong by myself.  But I’m not willing to believe that others value me or honestly WANT to help.  So whenever it happens I’m overwhelmed by the love and support.  Then WHOOSH. Tears.

They are like a relief I guess.  An outward release.  I’m NOT alone.  I am loved.  I’m not imagining this burden.  It is real.  It is hard.  But I NEED an off switch.  I’m out of kleenex.

I wish I could accept in my heart that my challenges are not a sign of my inadequacies. Each time a family member or friend supports me and points out that its not me, I want to fight it.  Because inside its easier to blame myself than to just accept life as it’s been dealt to me. And now as I’m clawing my way up into the land of the living – I keep getting overwhelmed with the LOVE.  And I have a hard time accepting that love too.  Why would anyone want to love ME?    I’m messed up.  What makes me worthy of their time, love and efforts?

So then because DESPITE me being messed up – I’m being given tidbits or huge chunks of love and my heart melts and LEAKS freaking tears!  So I’m just a crying machine.  I should be given a role on TV as “crying person”  because I have it mastered.  Cry now – OK! Easy.  I just have to think of something sad, something that makes me mad, or something that makes me HAPPY and I can cry.  BOOM.  Open the flood gates!

People talk about tears of joy, and sure we see them at weddings etc.  But honestly – reading an email makes me cry. BOOM.  Or when a friend argues with me that I’m justified being on LTD and not a burden on society. BOOM.  Or that yes dealing with my family’s issues is tough. BOOM.  or seeing my daughter’s smile light up the room as she tries her new dance class. BOOM.  or having a wonderful heart to heart with my son, and seeing his maturity. BOOM.  or realizing just how much I’m considered part of my husband’s family. BOOM.

So hoist up your pants right to your panties, because my tears are leaving puddles everywhere I go.  At least for once it’s tears of love.

And that’s me. GP

 

 

 

Special Needs Integration

Oh boy.  I’m bound to piss off someone and everybody all in one blog.  Well here goes nothing…

In our area, all special needs kids, no matter how extreme, are integrated into regular elementary classrooms.  And typically the gov’t will fund a full time Educational Assistant (EA) to chase and babysit them.  However if you have a child with a minor learning disability or even a moderate behaviour challenge, there is no funding for any behaviour/educational support at all.

I’m a teacher and a parent and I don’t like it from either angle. Don’t get me wrong – I think integration works for some kids, but it isn’t for everyone. Our current system SUCKS.

Honestly, how is the non-verbal, screaming autistic child running through the hallways, disturbing every class, benefiting?  Why does she deserve a full time EA to chase her around?  Are all the other kids learning tolerance of her disabilities?  Or are they developing frustrations and headaches and hoping that they don’t have to be in the same class with THAT child again?  I’ll tell you – its the second one!

When that same Autistic child is forced to be part of the school musical and is crying and wailing and being held in place by her EA, its not enjoyable for the audience.  She is ruining the show for everyone.  And I really don’t think that child is benefiting either. So WHY are we doing this?

Its apparently acceptable to throw things and disrupt everyone and have special exemptions if you are a child with severe “issues”, but heaven forbid my child get any special accommodations for her needs.

Mine has Oppositional Defiance Disorder and is a highly sensitive person.  She is triggered by many sounds (such as kids screaming in the halls! or even chalk on a blackboard).  She is instantly calmed by listening to music.  However, when the request to allow her to bring an iPod and use it to calm down was made – it was refused.  iPods aren’t allowed and if an exception was made for her it would have to be made for everyone.  REALLY?  Then why does the autistic girl have her own to use whenever she wants!?  Honestly are her needs MORE important than my child’s? The apparent answer seems to be YES. We cater to the extreme. If you are more normal – SUCK IT UP.

My child is bright. When calm, she will learn a lot and contribute both in school and to the community.  What is that other girl going to do?  She is a lovely girl but she will always need support. She isn’t going to hold down a job.  Yet the school is giving more time and money to her education.  I think it’s absolute CRAP.

My son has dyslexia.  He is also gifted.  But because of his learning disability he hasn’t been able to excel.  He struggles to get any written work done. While he was in elementary school, I had to fight for 5 years just to get him tested!   He got some help one year when he sat next to the ASD child.  THAT boy had a full time EA to help him. So that EA helped my son. It was such a benefit.  He loved the help; he would have had way more success and way more confidence in his abilities if he’d had more help in other years. But NO! –the funding is for the ones who aren’t going to amount to much.  My son’s current teacher has dubbed him “the future prime minister”  She see’s that much potential in him.  But its not come from any EA support. Its come from hours upon hours of support from ME!!!  And persevering through many tantrums, thrown books and lots of “I’m so stupid” crying jags, as he struggled, not understanding why he “couldn’t get it”.  ARGHHH!!

Society needs to put that little extra out NOW, for some of the borderline kids.  Give them that boost and help while they are young and let them fly.  But instead we spend all the time carrying the kids who will need to be carried forever. They aren’t ever going to fly; leaving those who could have learned to fly still struggling because the helpers were too busy carrying our “special” kids.

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve seen many successful integrated kids too. I think all kids deserve a classroom where their needs are met. If they are able to sit and partake in a regular class with minimal disruption – its a good situation for all.  However a special program where basic life skills are taught would be better for some. I had a child one year whose EA spent the entire year, toilet training him. Seriously!!  Yet my kid couldn’t get any reading support?!  I had to teach a child choir who could only HONK out sounds to talk, much less sing. And all the other kids who wanted to sing had to tolerate it.  And this is OK?

NO. IT’S. NOT!  Not for me as a teacher; not for me as a parent; not for my students and not for my children. It’s not OK.  Integration isn’t for ALL. IT NEEDS TO CHANGE.

And I’ll stop now before I get my granny panties all in a knot!

That’s me. GP.

God and Faith

I grew up believing in God.  I grew up with Christian values.  My family occasionally went to church.  I remember a few brief stints in Sunday school.  I remember a couple of summer’s going up the street to a neighbour’s house for a week in the mornings and learning a bible verse, hearing bible stories and doing crafts.  I learned the Lord’s prayer in school and happily recited it until it was banned. I like traditional Christmas Carols.  I believe in Easter and Christmas to celebrate the life of Jesus – not Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I’m still offended that Christmas concerts need to be Winter concerts and that as a music teacher I can’t teach any songs that mention Jesus.  I’m not trying to convert my students; I’m not preaching; I’d be willing to teach hebrew songs etc too.  What’s the big deal?

It was a huge deal to me to be able to attend Easter Sunday services at St. Paul’s cathedral in London when I was in high school.  In grade 11 I set out to read the entire bible.  I made it through 1/2 the old testament.  I made the choice to be confirmed as an adult and began attending regular services when I went to university.  I even became a regular member of the church choir and an assistant Sunday school teacher. I made sure both my children were christened in my church.  I was proud of my faith. But I stopped going.  The church didn’t fit anymore – the sunday school wasn’t working out; the congregation snarky; the politics ugly. I tried a new one.  It was better, but then the only time for swimming lessons conflicted and I got out of the habit of going.

Suddenly as the kids were getting busier, Sunday was the only day left to sleep in.  I NEEDED my rest.  I didn’t NEED church did I?  I can believe and have faith without being IN the church couldn’t I?  My husband didn’t believe in God.  He believed in the Christian morals and values but not the God almighty etc.  He wouldn’t attend with me.  I accepted that, but it made it that much easier to stop going.  I could let him take the kids for a hike and I could sleep and have some time to myself.  THAT was heavenly at the time.

But now I’m confused.  I’m jaded.  Life threw me a curve and I didn’t duck in time. I got hit HARD in the chest. My heart got broken.  I prayed and prayed at the time.  I prayed that God would help heal my husband. I prayed that I wouldn’t be left alone as a widow.  But I was.  It was an impossible reality.  How could I survive this?  WHY did God do this to me?

At that moment I figured, it was a waste of time.  I believed with all my heart that a miracle would come. That God would help me.  And it felt like he didn’t.  I feels like he just dropped the ball.  A big freaking bowling ball, right on ME.

Ok, I’ve been blessed with a fabulous therapist who I would never have met if my spouse didn’t die.  A good thing.  Through a couple of psychic sources I’ve had a couple of messages from him.  One message said that He is in Heaven because of my belief.  He had a place to go. I was right – there is a heaven.  WOW.  Powerful stuff. But I still want my spouse back.

 I find myself now praying more to my husband than I do to God.  I’m still not convinced in God’s love for me. There is the long standing part of me that clings to what I’ve always known. But there is this other part of me – the one that feels like its been burned over and over – that can’t possibly stand the idea anymore.

How can God take my husband from me knowing that I already suffer severe depression and low self esteem?  How can God then allow my daughter to be so mentally unstable and miserable? How can God take such a good man like my husband (here on in known as DH) and leave murderers and low lifes alive? WHY? WHY take DH?  Why was it his time?  WHY was I not able to live my life with him?  Why must my children suffer without their loving and involved dad?  WHY would God allow someone to report us to Social services in the midst of all our sorrow? WHY? Why were we put through that ordeal only to be totally vindicated and cleared of all accusations?  It didn’t strengthen me – it knocked me so far down I could have died.  HOW would THAT have been helpful for my kids?

The phrase “god only gives you what you can handle”  is ridiculous.  I’m unable to work.  I’m unable to enjoy my life.  Is this HANDLING IT?  Certainly NOT in my mind.

I have two close people in my life who have both been affected by cancer.  They both used to believe in God.  Now both of them – not so much.  Again – I don’t think either WANTS to lose faith, but neither feels overly joyous.  Ok – so the cancer is gone in one case and hopefully gone in the other.  But that journey has scarred them.  And scarred their outlook.  And made them question God.

I have another friend who tried to say it wasn’t God who “let bad things happen”.  That its our “freewill” that he’s given us.  But I can’t buy that.  My DH didn’t freewill his brain hemorrhage.  I didn’t freewill my daughter’s mental illness or the SW investigations.  They happened.  Beyond any control I had.  But if God is all powerful HE did have control.  Couldn’t he stop it?  I just don’t know what to think.

I’m excited that DH is in heaven.  I believe in heaven. I believe in ghosts, angels, orbs, spirits or whatever you want to call them.  I believe that there is another dimension co-existing with us.  Is God in charge?  I’m not so sure.

Will I go back to church again?  Probably at some point.  I feel a slight tug in that direction.  However I think my son will never go.  He is adamant that the whole church, creationism etc is crap.  And that devastates me that he feels this way.  Which tells me I guess I still believe and want to believe.  But I really don’t know how to go back to church and TRUST in God, when I feel like I tried that and it didn’t work out.  I don’t even feel like god picked me up and carried me through the hard times.  So even if I could accept that God had to have DH with him, then WHY did everything else feel like it was crumbling too?

My daughter didn’t even remember the Christmas story.  She was Jesus in the pageant! She was a little lamb.  But I stopped going to Church when she was 3 or 4.  And at 7 her Dad was gone.  By 9 she’d forgotten about Jesus.  I feel like I’ve failed her.  Again – I must still care and believe if this matters to me.

I guess its just that God is like a long time family member that I’m really really pissed off at.  I blame him for what’s happened and having a hard time forgiving him.  I don’t want to stay mad, but I just don’t know how to move past it.  Just like when a loved one betrays you; how do you trust him again?  How can you believe that it won’t happen again?  My heart is still broken – I can’t afford to have the broken bits shattered more.  There isn’t enough left.

So as I pray to my husband, I look for guidance and strength.  I seek courage and wisdom.  And I pray that the elastic in my granny panties doesn’t break, so that I can march forward in dignity.

And that’s me.

 

Little sponges

I’ve had my eyes opened dramatically in the past 24 hours.  I have my 5 year old niece visiting us.  This is her first time to our home.  And as most 5 year old kids, do, she says what she is thinking with no filter.  Her comments are a reflection of what she sees based on her own perceptions.

As I noted a few blogs ago, I didn’t remember “teaching” my own daughter my ways of thinking.  But suddenly I am seeing my warped ideals and misconceptions being repeated in her thoughts. I didn’t want my child to suffer the same frustrations I have. I didn’t TRY to influence her in those negative thought patterns, and yet somehow she absorbed those problems like a sponge.

I’m seeing trends already in my niece that are no different.  She is clearly a sponge too.  As soon as my niece got in my van, she right away said “you really need to clean this”.   Sure there is some garbage in the van – a take out bag, a disposed bag of chips from the beach last week, a towel, some misc. stuff – but actually – compared to what we sometimes have – its pretty darn good!   Within 10 minutes of being in our home, she commented on my LR “why is it so messy?”  I told her it wasn’t – sure the throw cushions and blankets were tossed on the floor – so what?! we USE this room.  and sure there is a laundry basket with a couple of towels waiting to be put in the linen closet, and my daughter’s camping bin with her clothes ready to take to the trailer (she had just packed them for our upcoming trip).  And the room was vacuumed about 5 day ago -so relatively tidy.  So she pointed to the stains on our 10 year old carpeting – “but that’s dirty”

Since when does a 5 year old comment on house keeping and carpet stains?  Where did she learn this “standard”  Who TAUGHT her that a room has to be “perfectly tidy” and essentially immaculate?  I bet her mom (my sister-in-law) didn’t intentionally sit her down and tell her that clean is good and messy is bad.  etc.  But this little sponge has figured out that value.

I’ve spent YEARS agonizing over the “perfect home” syndrome and not living up to it. Worrying what if someone shows up and judges me.  Thinking that I’m a worthless person because I can’t keep the spotless home AND live in it too.  That I’m not a neat freak and don’t clean and tidy all the time.  I have wished at times for a bit of the OCD cleaning vibe some of my friends have.  I struggle daily.  I don’t want to live on fake pretenses.  I want to believe that the state of my home is NOT what i’ll be judged on – that I’ll be judged on my morals and values and actions, and not whether I have a laundry basket in my LR.

But then WHAM – a FIVE year old reinforces my warped message.  NOPE – not good enough.  MUST CLEAN MORE.  I don’t measure up.  BUT WAIT.. I need to say STOP. I need to halt the thinking.

I’ve been continually frustrated by my SIL (her mom) for this VERY issue.  I’m not allowed to visit my brother unless her house is perfect.  They are out of town. I may only see them 1 or 2 times a YEAR.  And I HAVE to give ample warning if I want to show up at their home, so that it can be “clean enough”.  My brother has had to be secretive if I come over when the house has not been “ready”.  I don’t care about their home.  I really don’t.  I want to see them!  I suffer the same self doubt as my SIL – the “what will others think of me” if something isn’t right.  I GET it.

But to hear my niece comment in a disgusted tone, on a yard full of dandilions “that yard has lots of weeds” (thankfully NOT mine! 🙂 is sad too.  She has already developed that perception that outward appearances is important.  Like a sponge, she has absorbed that message.  And I bet, like me and her mother, it will haunt or trouble her as she grows older and tries to continually strive to meet that unattainable high standard.

It makes me cry when I see my daughter getting therapy to help her break her distorted thinking.  I feel guilty.  I blame myself.  But my therapist pointed out something critical – “she is breaking that pattern NOW.  She has not spent 40 years thinking this”

I’m trying to break the thinking traps.  I’m trying to replace distorted thinking with realistic thinking.  I’m trying to ignore the messages of a 5 yr old and remember that a Social worker was just in my home a week ago (for other reasons) and says I’m doing absolutely fine.  That there are no concerns with my home. I have to believe this.  I have to take it to heart.  I do NOT (and nor does my SIL) have to have a spotless home, to be a worthy person.  And my little sponge next to me, is learning valuable lessons every second – whether I “teach” it consciously or not.

She needs to learn that we are OK – granny panties and all – and that perfection in our home or life is NOT going to happen and trying to achieve that will only lead to continual disappointment.

My personal goal is to accept it AS IS.  and be HAPPY with that.

That’s me.  GP

Trust and Friendship

For a couple of days, I haven’t been able to write.  I haven’t found something “inspiring” or “worthy”.  I didn’t want just drivel.  I wanted something more profound.  Today I realized, that I am the only one in my way of finding the profound.  I needed to reach deeper, past the surface and into my heart and truly “see” what’s hiding.

I’ve also been inspired by some of the comments that have appeared on my blog.  To realize that my words, thoughts or ramblings, have impacted others, was exciting.

Exciting because it challenges one of my core beliefs of being a failure and unworthy.  I never believe that I have any value or that my life matters much to others.  I know I have kids and I matter to them.  But when a disgruntled kid tells you “I hate you”, I take it to heart and believe it.  So discovering and allowing myself to believe that my voice and actions matter is exciting. To think that I might have friends or people around me who WANT to be there in spite of my own insecurities is exciting.

I took a risk today.  I impulsively invited a few close friends over for a swim and a BBQ.  I like to be social, but I’m always afraid that I won’t be good enough.  That my house won’t be clean enough, or the situation interesting enough.  Since my husband died 2 years ago, I have rarely had people over.  I’ve been too embarrassed. Too depressed. Too scared to take a risk (even with close friends) to be vulnerable and let them in my home.  All the voices in my head of “you are a failure” “you aren’t good enough” have been too loud.  My husband was someone who lifted me up emotionally and I had more confidence when he was alive.  But since then, its all been on me – I have had to be the one to lift myself up.  And I just haven’t had the strength.  I’ve wanted to, and have had to plan and plan, so that I could be “ready”. and so often, I end up just “not ready yet”.

Today as I was vacuuming the swimming pool, I got thinking.  Thinking that I hadn’t seen enough of my friends lately. (we have a close knit group of several families who’ve kids have grown up together for the past 14 years).  And my kids haven’t seen their friends.  Thinking that we will be leaving for a month of holiday and I won’t see them at all.  So I suddenly thought – I’d love for them to come over and swim and have a BBQ. And today would be a perfect day.

What is so unusual though, is instead of instantly thinking of every excuse why this was a BAD idea – such as the lawn needs mowing, the patio isn’t finished, the house isn’t clean (meaning that there are dishes, laundry and vacuuming to be done!), etc etc etc.  I grabbed my phone.  I went for it.  I took a plunge.  I jumped into the ocean wave, uncertain of what was waiting for me.  I was not exactly confident.  I was hopeful for a moment that, I would in fact have a “party” of my friends/kids.  I was excited at the prospect.

First call = most likely, but later on.   I felt a bit of disappointment that it would be “later”.  Second call = no answer (suspected family out of town for son’s tournament) – More disappointment.  I really wanted to include them.  And also knew that first person was more likely to come if 2nd was there too. Sigh.

Feelings of self doubt and self worth began.  What the hell am I thinking? I can’t host anything.  Nobody is going to want to come here.  But I still braved the waters again.  I made a third call.  And she was going to check with her son and husband but sounded like a definite yes.  Ok – feeling a bit empowered. I got a life vest on.  I can do this.

I called the fourth.  Another Yes, but later on.  Ok, this will happen.  So called back first person to let her know about the others!.  And off to the store I went, excited that i was going to see my friends and host a “pool bbq”.

I now suddenly wanted to be the hostess with everything.  I wanted to be prepared.  I wanted to be worthy.  I didn’t want to let anyone down.  I didn’t want to disappoint.   In years gone by, that would have meant preparing everything from scratch.  I didn’t have time or energy and suddenly I was ok with that.  I’m not sure where that bit of confidence came from.  But I will sure take it.

But by the time I finished shopping I have a text from one saying – nope she has a friend coming over.  What?  Instantly I was crushed.  I was thrown on the shore by my wave and dumped in the sand.  The message in my head was “she’d rather see someone else. She got a better offer.”   But I had to GET UP.  Shake it off.  Dig deeper inside.  check the facts.

I decided Whatever… She doesn’t want to see me, Fine.  don’t.  I’ll see the other 2 families and she won’t.  Her loss.  But there was that inner voice knocking me down.  Saying – bet the others will cancel too.  Nobody really wants to see you.  You aren’t worthy of their time. They will be no shows.

I jumped into my pool and enjoyed the water.  I put on some music outside.  I encouraged my kids (ok I forced my kids) to come outside too.  And we hung outside and waited.  And hoped the others would still come.  I got a text from the out of town one. – was on a ferry and MIGHT come by.  The others still haven’t cancelled.  I remained hopeful. But the voices in my head kept trying to pull me under and drown me.

I didn’t spend my time washing every last dish, wiping down the counters and table and mowing the lawn.  I played in the sun.  I was allowing myself to just BE.

And the 2 families who could come “later” DID!  And we had a great time.  And the ones who were on the ferry came too!  WOW.  honestly I was so pleased.  And I served a simple menu and everyone was happy.  And I wasn’t 2nd guessing my housekeeping status every second.  I just allowed myself to visit.  And it made me happy.

The profound thing was that I TRUSTED my friends with myself AND…  I TRUSTED myself with my friends. Its one thing to hear “we aren’t here to visit your kitchen (house etc), we are here to visit YOU’.  But its hard to believe it.  Society has trained so many women to think that we have to be the perfect hostess etc.  And then it becomes hard to enjoy the company we have.  Tonight I was able to live that.  My friends were here to see ME  They WANTED to come. And I got to visit them.

There is still that horrible voice in my head saying “why would they want to visit you?”  But I took a leap of faith.  A leap of spontaneity and opened myself up.  Made myself truly vulnerable and triumphed.  I honestly think every person, including the kids had a good time.  Nothing was perfect. It was all impromptu.  And it didn’t matter.  Because everyone was there for FRIENDSHIP.

I conquered that voice for a few hours today.  I conquered those beliefs for a brief time.  I took that plunge into the wave of unknown, and came out riding it.  I know that there will be many more waves ahead.  Many more chances to succeed and fail.

But I have to trust that my friends don’t care if my home/life is perfect or if I wear granny panties.  I have to trust that they are my friends because they care about ME.  All of me. Just as I am.  And that’s a profound lesson for me to truly accept.

And that’s me. GP.

STRESSED

I have tried to tell myself it doesn’t matter.  I’ve tried to say “I don’t care”  I’ve tried to believe the Social worker saying its not a big deal.  BUT IT IS!!  She is coming here today for a home “visit”.  I repeatedly used the term “inspection” and the social worker was uncomfortable!  SHE didn’t like it!

OMG.  A visit is where you have a cup of tea, some muffins or cookies or something and talk, chat, cry, laugh and VISIT!  That is NOT what she is coming here to do.  She is coming here to walk through my home and make sure “it’s a safe environment”.  That’s is a fucking inspection.  She is INSPECTING my home.  And I can’t believe that she thinks calling it something else will make it any less foreboding.  SERIOUSLY?!

I know she’s not “the housekeeping police”.  But even if I have my in-laws coming I would want things all tidy and vacuumed.  But at least with “guests” you can shut off rooms (like my office or the kids rooms) and not let others see them.  She will be required to come and look at it all.

I know I have nothing to hide.  I know it shouldn’t matter.  I’ve been TRYING hard to believe that I don’t care what she thinks. That its a stupid formality.  So why did I cry myself to sleep?  Why did I wake up half a dozen times? Why am I so freaked out?  Because somebody else is coming to judge me?!  And I don’t think I measure up.  I WANT to have a perfect home. But I don’t.  So my “you are a failure” message is resounding in my head as I scrub the kitchen floor with the mop and realizing that the cupboard fronts are dirty and will have to stay that way.

I have a little over an hour.  I still need to have my shower.  Get my son to unload the dishwasher, so i can load it again. (first I have to get my son out of bed – and since i heard him cleaning at 5am – I suspect he hasn’t had much sleep yet).  My daughter doesn’t care.  She is quite content that her room is a disaster.  I helped her for 2 hours yesterday. But a stranger seeing it now, won’t know how much worse it was!  Its awful.  My office is really bad.

ARGGHH.  I wanted to let this “visit” (such a joke) just slide off my back as no big deal.  But it IS!  And I’m STRESSED. and somehow all this is being done to HELP me.  Ok sure.

The system is so messed.  And its making me a mess.  My anxiety is peaking.  I’m even contemplating taking an Ativan.  So how is this a good thing?! How is this HELPING me?

If the social worker found it made her uncomfortable when I kept saying inspection, then she needs to stop for a moment and THINK.  “if I’m uncomfortable and I have all the power, how must the client be feeling?”   Cause its a WAY bigger deal to me.  She is doing a job.  She will write a report.  I have a basket of laundry to fold, dishes to do, rooms to clean and all of it is on display for her to write about!  ARGHH!

I’m soooo stressed out.  I don’t want my Granny panties to be inspected or ‘visited’ .  I want to be left alone!

And that’s me.  GP.

So unfair.

Life is just so unfair.  And nobody said life would be fair, but seriously?! Some people seem to roll along with minor blips and bumps and others get major shit, time after time.  Its not fair.  Its not right.

And one person’s crisis is a bump to another. And vice versa.  Honestly, I’m tired of it all.

So finally my beautiful daughter is on medication and calmer. And able to cope better. So that should be good right?  But the meds are causing her to gain weight FAST.  She is getting fatter.  She is 2 sizes larger than she was just a few months ago.  She can tell.  She can see it.  So my once, tiny, athletic SKINNY girl is now definitely chubby.  And just in time for puberty and when looks count for so much.  As we sat together in her room going thru her clothes and getting rid of the small stuff, she broke down and cried.  “I’m getting fat Mummy”   It broke my heart.  I was the fat kid.  I carry the scars of self hatred and the teasing to this day.  Food is my comfort and enemy.  And now here she is, 9 years old and suddenly in a size 14 pant when she could wear size 10 at Christmas.  Seeing it, feeling it and hating it.  And we know her meds are a big part of the problem.  But she MUST take the meds.  She is a picky eater, so finding food she likes is an issue too. Sigh.  It’s not fair.  Sooo unfair.

Hasn’t she suffered enough losing her dad?  And having a mental disorder that causes her extreme rage and anxiety?  And having to see therapists and doctors? and having her brother hate her and tell her so repeatedly? and having a weak ankle causing her to give up gymnastics which she liked? and her anxiety disorder causing her to have fear of heights so she had to give up diving? and now she is getting fat?  ENOUGH!  This girl is only NINE!  So unfair.

It just makes me cry.  I feel so helpless.  I can’t do much for her.  I can suggest healthy options (which she hates) I can encourage exercise. I can support her tears.  But I can’t take away any of the pain.  And I know the pain first hand.  And I live the pain daily.  I want it to go away.  For me and her.  Its just so unfair.

and that’s me today.  GP.

WHY?

I’ve never understood why I’m much more willing to help someone else than I am to help myself.  And I suspect I’m not alone on this.

It applies to almost every aspect of my life.  I am way more critical of what I do, say, etc than I ever would be of ANYONE else.

Yesterday is a perfect example.  I was more than willing to help pack and move boxes for a friend (who didn’t even ASK me for help), than I am to do virtually any task at home for myself.  I took a friend’s child over for a sleepover, so those parents could have an evening off.  But am I able to ask for the same help? Nope.  Do I think I should ask for help? Nope.  Do I think I deserve the help? NOPE!  and yet I feel the others deserve it.  I think they are worth it.  I think they’ve earned it.

On more than one occasion, I’ve had a therapist ask me “what would you do/think if this was a friend in this situation?”  “What advice etc would you tell them?”  and I am HONESTLY stymied that I can’t treat myself with the same respect and rights as I’d give my friends.  One therapist went so far as to have me contact a friend, and have her write out some reasons WHY, she liked me as a friend.  The list made me cry.  But the realization that I can’t create that list for myself is upsetting. I truly can not fathom WHY people like me. Or what good they see in me. Or why they want to be around me.

Its so hard to give myself accurate credit for what I do.  I dismiss things too easily or negate them.  Rather than thinking “good for me, for packing over 1/2 my friends kitchen into boxes” I think “what a  procrastinator you are, you should be cleaning your own kitchen, you lazy ass”

Instead of acknowledging that I did something nice for someone, I’m too busy criticizing myself for something I haven’t done.  Or “should” have done.

I WANT to like and respect myself.  I envy those who have (or appear to have) self esteem.  I’m trying desperately to re-think the way I do and see things, so that I will change.  But it just seems that I end up more critical of myself.  I end up comparing everything and I come up short. (which is easy when you are only 5’3 1/2).

When I try to lose weight, I end up comparing my success with someone else. And if she has lost more, then I think well its because she’s better than me. She’s more committed to the goal. And if she’s more committed to the goal, its because she’s better than me at dieting. And since she is better at dieting, its obviously because she’s a better, stronger, more capable person.  Its because I’m a failure and I suck at stuff. I can’t just stop and let it be that we lose at different rates. It’s black and white – all or nothing.  Since I’m not doing perfectly, i don’t want to at all.  If I am not the best, I’m the worst.  There is no 1/2 way.

And somehow without realizing it, I’ve taught my daughter the same messed up perception.  So now I’m ruining her life too.  Apparently it’s not bad enough that I see everything all askew…now my daughter gets to see it that way too.  I hadn’t even known I’d said anything or done anything, for her to get this messed view.  Why do I have these perceptions?  I don’t remember being “taught” them.  Just like I certainly don’t remember “teaching” them to my daughter.  So WHY does she see things so black and white too?

Why can’t I accept help as readily as I’d offer it?  Why do I feel needing help is weakness? I certainly don’t think any of my friends are weak. I feel they are all much stronger than I, and yet I’m willing to give them help.  And I don’t think they are weak for accepting it.  Why is it, that if someone takes my kid for the day or a playdate etc, I think I will OWE them big time.  And yet, when the shoe is reversed, I don’t think they’d owe me anything at all.

I just don’t know WHY I have this totally unattainable, unrealistic, high standard for my life. But don’t expect anyone else to have to strive to it.  I’ve mentally collected all the positives that everyone else does, and put them ALL into ONE package deal.  And I can’t do it.  (I’m not sure if anyone actually does) But since I can’t – I’m a failure. AT EVERYTHING.  And since I’m gonna fail, why start? why bother?

So once in a while, I’ll help someone else, and I feel good for a few moments. I like the positive feedback – the “oh thank you so much” etc.  And for a moment I smile and feel proud of myself. Even to a point, where I allow myself to feel smug because “I” did that “whatever it was” and not someone else.  But just as quickly I wipe out that feeling, and replace it with a negative reminder of a failed aspect in my day to day.  WHY?  does it make me feel better? Nope. But I’ve become more used to being miserable on the inside.  And the warped perception I have, tells me that I deserved the bad things.  That I’m being punished for being bad.  Why? who knows…

So, day by day I need to acknowledge and ACCEPT some things I’ve done that are GOOD and worthwhile and stop there.  NOT negate them.  NOT replace them.  And maybe one day I can stop asking Why.

And that’s me.  GP

 

 

 

MYOB

Ok Pet peeve vent here.  Decades ago, it was believed “it takes a community to raise a child”.  People borrowed a cup of sugar from a neighbour. Maybe it was idealized. Maybe it wasn’t real? But now, it seems judgement is passed far more readily than help or encouragement.

Just today I saw a FB post from a friend, trying to solicit others to criticize another person’s  (also a friend of mine) parenting.  And lots of others jumped on that bandwagon with both feet without knowing the facts. They cast judgment. Most didn’t ask for more facts.  It drives me crazy. Firstly, what business is it of anyone of them? Nobody asked for this advice, comments or opinions.

Why have we become so willing to cast stones against others?  Who made us so much better than our neighbours?  Do you know what they battle each day? When did our “story” become irrelevant?

I’m so sick of it.  I had to stop putting a lot of things on FB as it became too hurtful.  I used to trust most people.  I used to trust that my friends and acquaintances were all essentially good.  I believed in being open and honest.  No facades. (well other than hiding that I personally felt that everyone else was better than me, and I was a failure – but that’s a post for another day). Now I’m jaded, and distrustful.  I’m wary of others’ judgements on me and my life.

Now it seems the only time many want to HELP – is to criticize.  Seeking out the truthful people, the ones who DO care, is challenging. I have many great friends. I have many I trust and who do care.  But its so hard to discern who the “others” are. Who are the ones who are secretly casting judgements and throwing stones behind my back?

Why is it so hard to communicate honestly?  If you are concerned for someone, or their kids then TALK to them.  BE OPEN. BE HONEST.  don’t hide behind FB or ministry Social workers.  Man up.  Don’t gossip.  If we truly want the best for others, then isn’t it up to us to provide it personally? Honesty IS the best policy.  I still believe that.

I WANT a community to help me raise my family.  I WANT to be part of a community that helps raise my friends’ kids.

When I see a friend’s child doing something inappropriate, I’ll tell that child to stop. (heck I’ll tell a total stranger) I’ll tell the parent I did so.  But know what? I’m not judging that parent.  I LOVE my friends’ kids.  I TRUST their parenting.  I know that there is a story for their actions and why they parent as they do, and why the kids may act as they do.  Does that mean I agree with everything all my friends/kids do? Of course not!  Nor do I expect my friends to agree with all my choices.  But if there was something BIG, that I was concerned about, I’d say so. and I would want them to say so to ME.  Don’t hide. Honesty!

Be True, Be real. Hang your Granny Panties on the line for others to see! And if you can’t be honest and true, then MYOB.

and that’s me. Granny Panties and all! 🙂

 

You found me!

Well if you are here, that means either:

a) I’ve trusted you into this private space, or

b) you’ve inadvertently stumbled into my crazy vortex.  Either way – Welcome.

This is my place to reveal the real me.  so here it is – I am a mom. I have 2 kids. I am a widow.

When I’m mad, I swear, even in front of my kids. Oh well. (lock me up now!). I think a clean house is when both the laundry AND dishes are done at the same time as the LR is vacuumed. And oh yeah, I wear Granny Panties. This is me.