No rhyme or reason

Everything is great...perfect even. I made up with my bff, me and my sister are on good terms again. I like my job (and I have off a bunch of days to spend with my son---who is HERE for 2 weeks!)
It's the holidays...everything is just wonderful. (well the weather could be better, but hey it still beats a TYPICAL winter back east)....

Yesterday...around 3 pm...no reason...it's hits...like a cloud blocking the sun...BOOM...I'm blue...

Hubby can tell right away...I have learned to feel it in my face...I can actually feel my eyebrows droop..I can feel the sadness in my eyes, like one of those dogs with the really sad droopy eyes.

I tell myself how stupid it is. There is NO REASON to be sad...I can't even make up one...normally I can at least find some ridiculous excuse...For some reason having a reason makes it easier to deal with. No reason makes me feel...crazy...out of control...which I am...it isn't my fault this happens...but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with...I can't stand it...if I allow it to, it can really consume me....I can let it in and let it take over and lose all desire to do anything...well to be honest I already have the desire to not do anything the moment it hits...but if I don't fight it....that's when it gets really ugly...I could just go to bed and try to sleep it off...but that's giving in to it. Sometimes I just want to run away because I am tired of inflicting this on those I love...mainly my hubby who has to deal with it every bit as much as I do. Sometimes I am just sad, but the really annoying times are when I become super insecure. I think my sadness means something...I am sad because he doesn't really love me..why would he love me? I don't love me...I don't want to be with me, why would he? And this is the shit I run through my mind over and over until I AM crazy...I truly begin to believe there is no way in hell he could love me, no way he should love me...that if I loved him as much as I say I do, I would do the honorable thing and release him from his commitment to me...he surely didn't sign up for this.

My only hope is that this is the peri menopause...I believe this  because it doesn't last long and it tends to be cyclical...there must be a drop in some hormone or a surge in one that causes this. My periods have been getting weirder and weirder...sometimes seeming like they come right after they ended...I am hoping this is a sign that things are finally going to wind down..it's been about 10 years since I first started having symptoms of perimenopause... I am so ready for the actual menopause and even more ready for this mood shit to stop....I will even embrace the notion of officially being old, if this BS will abate!

You may wonder why I don't consider drugs to help me through this....Prozac stole so much from me. It altered me beyond just fixing my depression, I refuse to do that again...I will take these sad days that I know will pass, they never last more than 2 or 3 days and don't happen every month, over giving up my life again to that pill. I just hope that this choice doesn't end up costing me my hubby. I am sure he will reach a breaking point..God know sometimes I come really close.

Writing helps get some of the thoughts to stop recirculating...well usually it does...today I still can't imagine why he doesn't leave me...I am so fucking annoying! THIS is so fucking annoying.

Beauty...why do we all see it differently?

I have been trying to think about how to write about this without coming off like I am phishing for compliments. That is not at all what I am trying to do.

What I am trying to do is figure out how to reconcile what I see in the mirror with what others see.

I'm 46 (maybe for only 30 more days, but hey I am still 46!)...and I have had many, many compliments about my hair over the years. I mean A LOT...it's very rare I can get a hair cut without the hairdresser commenting on my hair...and not just the color either. People LOVE my hair. I have come a long way in this area...I LOATHED my hair for too long. Then it just was what it was, I wouldn't say I love it, but I certainly appreciate it more than I ever hair, especially now with those white hairs popping up!

To this day I still have random strangers approach me about my hair...I mean it's one thing to have an interaction with me and comment about it, but to go out of your way to come up to me just to compliment me, that's a bit weird, right?? I even had a lady ask if she could take pics of my hair to show her hairdresser how she wanted hers to look...c'mon my hair ain't that great! The funniest thing is I get my hair cut at a beauty school for 8 dollars and 99% of the time I, literally, do NOTHING to my hair...wash it...that's it...run my fingers through it, as it dries naturally...sometimes I may use some Aussie spray, because I like the grape scent...but that's it. Personally, I prefer my hair when I blow dry it, but am just too lazy to take the 5 minutes to do that, unless I am going somewhere special.

This past week, I got another go out of her way to compliment me lady...she loved the way the back of my hair curled...I had a really early morning at work that day, so I had washed my hair the night before...and not only did nothing to it but SLEPT on it....and still compliments! Meanwhile I had looked in the mirror and thought "I should probably wear a headband, this crap is out of control today!"....What do they see that I don't? Can I even trust my opinion of myself?

But, as I have said, I have come a long way in understanding these compliments...people love the unusual color and they love wavy hair. I kinda get it. Somewhat...

But then there are the people, again perfect strangers, that will compliment me on my "good looks". I have never felt attractive and as the years go by, I am just getting older and older and like the mirror less and less. But the comments have increased. Men, women...it doesn't matter. Comments range from just mentioning that I have a "cute" body or other kinda awkward ways of commenting on my figure (it may just be me, but I find it really weird to talk about other people's bodies...good or bad--it just seems too intimate). Or sometimes it will just be an offhand "You are a beautiful lady (woman, whatever)" Again, I find it kinda odd for people to just say this...I mean it's better than "Did you fall out of the ugly tree?" but it's weird.

The hardest part for me is that I do not look in the mirror and see that. Twenty years with my husband constantly telling me how beautiful I am and I still don't see it...now random people blurting it out and more and more often...and again...I am aging!! Hello?!?!? What do they see?!?!?

I have thought it could be my happiness shining through....I am coming up on 3 years out of the pharmacy profession. Maybe the relief I feel and the contentment is visible...to them...but still not to me...

I just wonder...what will it take for me to look in the mirror and see what others see....I feel like I am running out of time... I would love to merge the image others see onto my self image...I can only imagine how I will appear to others if I am also confident....but realistically I just don't see myself ever seeing what they see...

Thanks for reading another rambling post of what goes through my overactive mind!

Suicidal thoughts are like a virus

I wanted to share this with people who still don't understand how people can think about death as a solution.

I haven't been truly suicidal in a long, long time. I can't even remember the last real time that it was a real consideration. That's a good thing.

But I do still have passing thoughts and it's annoying. I have NO desire to end it. I am truly at the happiest point in my life. If you just read my last post you will see that yes I do miss my son...but that is the only negative about my life..and I know that being on the same coast wouldn't erase the feelings of missing him being small.

Plus the thought came exactly a week ago...it was the second time I had the thought within the past month and that's why I started thinking more about the "why's" of why I had the thought.

You will just have to trust me when I say that I really don't want to die. This isn't a post subtlety asking for help. I just wanted to try to share some insight from someone who deals with this crap.

So I am driving...to the shelter to pet kitties...something I LOVE LOVE love to do! And there it is ..."What if I just drove my car into the other lane of traffic and ended it?" ....And I think "Where the fuck did that come from?"  That's how it happens...these ridiculous thoughts can catch you off guard...and I then I thought they (the thoughts) are like a virus that lies dormant...waiting for a weak moment to pounce and take over...

I wish I could accurately describe the visual I came up with...it's like your brain is this spinning multi level sphere and within each level are holes...when I say multi level...picture different walls within the sphere...each with a hole but spinning so fast that the holes rarely align to allow you to get to the center...

So these thoughts wait and pounce and sometimes they make it through a hole to the next wall, so that you actually hear them but the other walls are closed off so it just bounces back...but sometimes, maybe you are having a particularly bad day, they get through a couple walls and the thought doesn't sound so crazy...maybe even appealing...and maybe that thought makes it to the center and you act on it....your defenses are down and you just can't fight that virus anymore.

I feel more than healthy enough right now to handle these invasions....but it is still scary. Scary to think that one day I could do something stupid and impulsive that could end my life because I have this damn thought on a day when I am weakened by hormonal thoughts or some random annoying overwhelming event..or a combo of both.

The boy I worked with...I think this happened to him...he had toyed with suicide and then one night, after fighting with his girlfriend and feeling particularly alone at a bar...he had the thought "I should jump in front of this truck"..it was impulsive and not something he could take back...and now he's gone. His defenses were down and the suicidal virus won.

Play with your little ones...they won't be little long

I woke up this morning, not remembering what I had been just dreaming, but with instant thoughts of longing for my son. My mind raced with thoughts of how I wished I had been more present when he was younger. More emotionally present. I was there physically, I worked part time and during weekends, while he was at his father's. I was there, but not there. My mind started "What iffing?' itself to death...What if I had stayed with Bobby? I let that play out and realized it would have been a much worse childhood for him and much worse life for me. His memories would have been filled with constant arguing between his parents. When I was with Bobby I was a screamer...I yelled loud to be heard (although I still wasn't). I know it would have been ugly...I was pitiful in that relationship. Getting out allowed me to get the emotional help I needed. But it also put me on antidepressaants. And they robbed me of much of my son's youth. At first it was just that they left me completely devoid of emotion. I was no longer sad or angry, the yelling like a maniac stopped but I was kind of zombie like. I didn't cry at sappy TV shows, I didn't cringe at dead animals on the road (hell I even searched out dead photos on the internet). But then it got worse...I started sleeping ALL of the time...if I wasn't at work, I was sleeping...even driving to work I would sleep! One of my worst memories is when my son said to me "Mommy, why do you sleep all of the time, I want to play with you". That is when I sought help....sleep studies, new drugs to keep me from sleeping while driving (they didn't work). Then one day I just had it...I had stumbled on an article about a drug manufacturer that had buried a study showing that these drugs sometimes caused excessive sleeping..so I quit cold turkey...not recommended, I might add. It took months, but I lost weight I had gained (that I had attributed to getting older) and I stopped sleeping so damn much. But I had lost years...the best years of my son's life. The years when he liked being around me, wanted to play with me.

I try to not have regrets...I know I needed to leave my husband...I know I needed therapy. I didn't have the knowledge that taking drugs would rob me of so much. I am not even sure if therapy alone would have been enough, I was in a bad place. I try not to dwell on things that can't be changed. But for whatever reason (hormones again? they have been pretty screwed up this month) this morning I couldn't stop wondering and wishing. And even though I didn't "feel" like crying, which sometimes happens...days where I don't know why but I just want to cry (and don't) just FEEL like I want to, for no reason...well today I didn't FEEL like I needed to cry, but there I was just crying...really wanting to get on a plane and hug the life out of my son....He's starting his third year of college...not far from starting his adult life for real...Even though we have been apart for most of the past 2 years, a part of me still felt like he was a kid and still living at home, just off to college...but it's really sinking in...he's never coming back to my home. I won't be taking care of him ever again. There is no way to go back and play again. I just wish I had played more. I have memories of playing but I wish I had made it more important.

When I see parents in the store brushing off their kids nagging with a "Stop...I am busy doing blah blah" , I try to remember that it can be annoying and understand their frustration but at the same time, I just want to say "HEY! Stop what you are doing and listen to your kid...it only takes a moment to hear them...you will want that moment when they are 20." But I don't think you can make a parent understand...at that point they are tired and adulthood seems so far away...almost impossibly far some days....I can remember that...but it still doesn't make me not want to have a few more days with my three year old cutie pie.

I texted him immediately this morning ...just a "whatcha doing?"...got the response "working why?"...I told him I was really missing him and wanted him to know how much I love him...and got my favorite response...."love you too =)" I don't know why but the smiley face with an equal sign as eyes just makes me smile....  And I could sense he knew I was being a "MOM" but was telling me it's ok...so glad he's used to my sappiness!

Just a quickie

So it's been quite a while since I blogged.... we were really busy hiking somewhere far one day a week and now we are fostering kittens.

I had a lot on my mind but everything was still too fresh to put it out there. I guess it's been about 3 months since my last post...the one about becoming disillusioned by a so called friendship that wasn't.

I am not going to go into much other than to say, sometimes in the moment you can't see how toxic something is. I was refusing to take any blame for the end of the friendship but over time I have come to realize I was putting up walls and not being present in the relationship, so in that respect, yes, I was to blame. It was kind of what I was asking for (an end) and I got what I asked for.

The good news is, my life has been better for it. I have a piece of paper on the fridge....something I picked up from The Secret (the book about how to get what you want out of life) you write down what you want and look at it every day and you will eventually get it. It seems a little silly but I figured it couldn't hurt...all it says is "good jobs, happy, peaceful life"...Obviously good jobs is subjective...to me it merely means not stressful and pays the bills....all was going well there until they switched the hubby to night shift, but we survived and it kinda was the beginning of what ended the aforementioned friendship so in the end everything worked out!  Dave is back to days (except one night a week--which works out since I work one night a week, although they haven't been aligning quite yet) and our lives are much happier and much more peaceful. We aren't stressing about doing things on other people's schedules...we can have our weekend on OUR weekend and relax on our hump day. I am sure you can all empathize that feeling obligated to have dinner every week, right smack in the middle of your week, with an overcritical friend can be taxing. It was definitely affecting our (mine and Dave) relationship, hell even the friendship...it just wasn't enjoyable. We tried to explain that back East we only saw our best friends a few times a year, but getting that message out without hurting feelings was impossible. It SEEMED easier just to continue as is....oh my therapist would have a field day with that....that was always my downfall...she'd ask why I was doing something that didn't feel right or that I didn't want to do or not speaking up for myself and my go to answer was "It's just easier" and as I would sit there crying, she would say "It doesn't look easy from where I am sitting"   She will never know how grateful I am to have met her, she truly changed my life and I still use her tips and tricks every day...always quoting her to myself...


But I digress....so with all of our spare time to do what we wanted, when we wanted, we started taking day trips. No more than a 2 hour drive. We discovered lots of cool new hiking places. A dormant volcano....who knew? We saw vastly different landscapes from what we were hiking in the immediate area. We got a zoo membership to the San Diego zoo. And I convinced Dave to start volunteering at the shelter with me...so now we can play with kitties together. That led to the fostering. We are on our second "batch" of kitties. We have learned that all kittens are not the same...like not even close. The first ones were crazy...crazy energetic...we read how they sleep like 90% of the time...um, they didn't get that memo...they PLAYED 90% and CRAZY! Tackling each other, running fast as lightning...we eventually got 2 socialized a bit...one moreso than the other but one still didn't want anything to do with us. Well, this second batch is completely different...we don't get much info on them but it seems like 2 are from the same litter and one is a loner. The loner is so loving and friendly and bone thin...and the most playful. The other 2 are scared but different than the first ones...they would claw and fight to get away from you...these poor things just cower. They will let you hold and pet them but act like they hate it....well one has come around now and is even starting to purr and come TO me, instead of me having to go get her out of her hiding spot. But man can they sleep....sleep, sleep.....We will have these a bit longer than the first ones (12 days for the first ones) because they are younger and way too thin to be fixed yet. Hopefully the extra time will allow us to socialize them better....a recent adoption at the shelter was a stray that had been brought in as a kitten, she wasn't socialized and was there for TWO years(to the day!) before she was adopted. I had been working with her and she was letting me pet her from about an arms length and really starting to like it! A success story! But I don't want these kittens stuck there for two year....I take my role very seriously and spend as much time as possible with them (it would be more if they didn't sleep so damn much!!).

So that's what's been going on....seems mundane and boring....which is exactly what we want...a peaceful, quiet life, enjoying the beauty around us, enjoying each other and helping animals...is there really anything else one needs??

On a final note....allowing someone to control me (what I do, what I write, anything really) is something I swore I would never let happen again and somehow I ended up in that place, worrying about how someone else perceived me....not gonna happen again. I will be doing things MY way now and forever. And if you don't like it...stop reading....

Thinking is difficult that's why most people judge

The title of this post is a quote attributed to Carl Jung...I read it as a facebook meme. Unfortunately that day I also read this:

A hero New York City cop was shot in the face by a dirt bag, thug, violent career criminal on Saturday night. Sitting behind the wheel of his patrol car, the officer was questioning ex-con Demetrius Blackwell about a suspected weapon when the perp whipped out the handgun and shot Officer Brian Moore at point-blank range. Clinging to life, the cop remains in a medically-induced coma. 
As far as I know, no civil rights marches are planned.
Nobody deserves to die in police custody. But urban cops deal with the worst among us. Before we judge their actions on the streets we have to walk a mile in their shoes.
Update 
Officer Moore has died. He was 25, just like Freddie Gray. Don't cop's lives matter too? Where's the outrage? Where's the demonstration?

That was a facebook post by (allegedly--since who knows who really controls his facebook page) Geraldo Rivera. I only had the misfortune of reading it because a friend had "liked" it. I also mistakenly read way too many comments applauding Geraldo...and not even a handful calling him out on the absurdity of the comparison.



I can not understand how anyone who would take the time to read this and then THINK about what it is saying can possibly agree with it. It can't just be me that sees that comparing a cop being shot to black men and children being shot weekly (daily?) by cops is the same thing...thereby warranting a civil rights march.

I mean REALLY??? Let's think about some facts, because this issue divides many people, which in and of itself is stupid...because do those who are so outraged by the Black Lives Matter mantra really believe that anyone is saying cops lives don't? Or that to say Black Lives Matter is to side AGAINST the police?

I am not anti-cop. I am against racism. I am against people who try to deny racism by making excuses when cops shoot black people. I am tired of the excuse "You try doing their job"....Last I checked no one is forcing anyone to be a cop and to add to that shooting people is not part of their job, so they are NOT doing their job.

Next we hear the tired argument that these people (thugs, we now call them, I am guessing that is the PC way of saying the n word) somehow deserved to die....if they were just following the law, if they didn't run...only problem is that  excuse doesn't hold water in many of the instances of the murders (yes I will call them murders).

We have the man who had his back to the cop, leaning on a TOY gun in a Walmart....did he run? was he breaking a law? and the final test of racism....would he have been shot if he wasn't black?


How about the 12 year old boy shot within seconds of the police arriving at a park, responding to a 911 call that stated they didn't believe it to be a real gun...was he a criminal for playing with a toy gun in a park? Oh but he took off whatever tag that identified it as a toy...yup that warrants murdering him...do you know any 12 year old boys that do stupid things? I sure do...would they be shot in the same situation...if they were white? But he ran....most kids do run when they think they are about to get in trouble...I am betting growing up as a black kid, seeing these stories on the news, that he didn't have much trust in the cops...so yes he ran...did he deserve to be murdered for that?

How about the guy pulled over for a broken tail light...he took off running, because he owed back child support..do you know anyone who owes child support, that may have a broken tail light? Should they be shot in the back while running away after being tasered? Would you not be outraged? 

Then there's the guy, who didn't die, shot after he pulled over for a traffic stop...oops by mistake...caught on film...he was doing nothing wrong...just an itchy trigger finger...but cops have a stressful job...we should just excuse these lapses...do we excuse lapses by doctors who are grossly negligent doing their job? NO! They are sued and often lose their licenses..why must we be defend ALL cops, when it is so obvious some do not deserve to be defended?


Now let's discuss the "thugs"....you know the ones with records a mile long...one simply walking in the street (yes he had just robbed cigars (CIGARS!! are we okay with murdering someone for stealing cigars??) but we don't really know if the cop knew this, do we?)...so does he deserve to die for previous crimes committed, does he deserve to die for stealing cigars or giving a cop attitude? But the grand jury found the cop innocent...oh ok...let's ignore the reports of DA misconduct and just call this one ok....NO....a cop is not an executioner...I won't say this cop murdered in this instance but it certainly could have been handled better, no one should have died that day. 

What about the choke hold guy? He was selling cigarettes illegally...but he's big and scary...how many cops were holding him down? Did he need to die?

Finally, let's talk Baltimore. There still hasn't been a reason given why this guy was being arrested...other than he made eye contact with a cop and ran.....everyone is so much in denial about the problem that we now resort to manufacturing stories for the cops, they don't even need to do it....he had a prior injury, based on some lawsuit...oops turns out the injury was lead paint poisoning, but no, let's cling to the narrative we like, the one that let's us sleep easier believing we don't live in a country that violates people's civil rights based on their skin color....we'll just stick with that prior injury story, even after if it's been proven wrong and even removed from the original site that published it....that's how much denial we are in as a nation...let's ignore that a 2 minute ride to the station lasted 40 minutes...let's ignore the millions paid out in lawsuits by this one city for misconduct by police...let's ignore their policy of giving "thugs: a rough ride....it isn't comfortable to THINK about it, so let's just judge Freddie on his past mistakes and the future we assume he would have lead...and let's be okay with him being murdered because hey...isn't' Baltimore better off without him??



So go on....judging every time a cop kills a black person...it isn't just men or even boys...just judge...jump to the conclusion that the cop is telling the truth, the cop did what he had to do....don't waste time THINKING about what may have really happened, or THINK about why it happens so often and disproportionately to black men...just keep talking the talking points...thugs, blacks kill blacks (because what? whites don't kill whites?...and name me a black serial killer,off the top of your head?...they are such thugs, shouldn't there be at least ONE you can think of?)


Don't be outraged by the crimes committed by white people...that affect millions of Americans...and go unpunished...just sit there and be appalled that no one is throwing a march when a cop dies...because it is totally the same thing as what is happening in the black community.

And please shut the fuck up about how they are like animals destroying their own neighborhoods...implying that they are inferior to the white community who would never do that...as riots continue to break out all around the country when a basketball team loses or a parade goes crazy....I will not defend rioting, but I will not suggest that black people are the only morons doing it...their anger is a little bit different...people are losing their lives not basketball trophies...so stop judging and THINK...


When a cop wakes up in the morning, I imagine as he's looking at his image in the mirror he wonders "Will I die today?"...he chose this profession and it is not an easy one. I could google it but I am guessing in the majority of towns all across America most cops don't really have to worry about it too much, sure in cities it's a very real threat...but...

when a black man looks in that mirror he, too, wonders "Will I die today?" not for a crime I may have committed and done my time for, not for a crime I am about to commit...but simply because I am black and I may cross paths with a cop who believes that he can get away with killing me, because so many already have..."

His threat is real too, only he didn't chose to have black skin.

And if you think that just "thugs" are harassed, ask black actors...I forget which one sold their Mercedes and bought 3 Prius's instead because he was tired of getting pulled over for being a black man in a Mercedes...

Racism is real...too admit it, does not make you guilty of anything but to deny it does...you are guilty of not really THINKing about it, but instead choosing sides because the truth makes you uncomfortable.


If they invented a drug that would make you color blind....blind to the color of one's skin....would you be ok with taking it? Or do you feel you NEED that information to accurately judge the person you meet? THINK about your answer....consider situations in which you think knowing the skin color of someone would help you --walking down an alley in a city, picking a seat on a bus...and then THINK about what that means. Would you take that drug? What would happen if cops were forced to take it? Would statistics start to change?? THINK about it.

One decision that changed my life

I believe it is important to remain open to change. I don't believe that my core morals or beliefs have changed drastically over the years but I have always been open to listening to others views on things and sometimes it has resulted in my mind being changed about something.

I have never been racist. I have always been empathetic to minorities....gay, black, whatever....I think it's because I grew up a redhead. One of not even a handful in my school...all of them...elementary, middle, high... It certainly wasn't because of my family, many racists remain to this day. I guess because my viewpoints on other things have evolved, I have this optimistic belief that I can change other peoples views regarding race...or even opening their eyes to the racism within themselves that they deny. I often feel like I am beating my head against the wall but I feel it's important enough to speak out about, so I will continue, no matter how futile it sometimes seems.

I won't go into all the ways I have changed, there are many. Hell, I used to be a registered Republican...changing political parties is a huge deal! But this rambling post isn't about that.

I have trust issues. I don't know where it began..my first real boyfriend was as loyal as they get. I imagine it relates to my low self esteem and just not feeling worthy of loyalty. Because of this I was very judgemental when it came to "cheaters". I had zero tolerance...or so I liked to think I did. It certainly didn't stop me from marryiing a man who had cheated on me for the entire first 8 months of our relationship, even denying it the several times I pointedly confronted him with suspicions, only admitting it after his other girlfriend had contacted me.

But his cheating only made me hate others that I heard about even more. I found out one of his work colleagues ,who we had started to hang out with socially, was cheating on his pregnant wife and I went ballistic. I forbid my husband from any further contact with the low life.

If you had told me that one day, with a baby not even a year old, that I would leave my husband, I would have said you were insane. I believed marriage was forever. I grew up with a large family full of marriages...very little divorce (although thinking back there was probably statistically a normal amount of divorce in my family---it was however frowned upon).

If I was someone unflexible in my beliefs, I would still be married to my first husband...well, if I was alive, I would be. Our entire relationship was wrong. I never wanted to be with him. I ended up with him because of alcohol and stupidity. And I can admit that now and you can judge me, because I admit it sounds  ridiculous. I guess it warrants further explanation, so I will ramble a bit more. Six of us hung out together in pharmacy school, 4 girls and 2 guys. I had a crush on Mike, not the man I married. Bobby (my ex) had a girlfriend (so did Mike, but it was on/off a lot) so Bobby was going to help me get Mike to be interested in more than just being friends....I think I was too subtle, and Bobby had ulterior motives. He had already hooked up with one of us and I think he wanted to end up with at least 2 more of us. He was so obnoxious and not my type...overweight, wore horribly unflattering sweats most of the time, but he was funny and charming. The four of us girls had even,jokingly, made a pact one night that none of us would ever sleep with him and all of us would try to sleep with Mike. Unfortunately alcohol had a different idea, and one drunk night I ended up with Bobby. Starting and on/off rollercoaster of hell that finally ended in marriage and then ultimately the divorce I swore would never happen to me. When we were packing to move to California, I read the diary I kept during this time. It was heartbreaking and awful. I threw it out and finally began to forgive myself for the divorce, realizing it was without a doubt the only thing  to do.

He was emotionally abusive to me. He played on my insecurities and used his father's death as a weapon to win any argument on any subject with tears and a breakdown. It was unfair. There was never compromise and I was always the bad guy. When that didn't work he would resort to "You will never find anyone better than me" and that is the sole reason I married him. I believed that. From a really young age, I watched my sister get the attention of boy after boy. Never receiving that attention, until finally 9th grade. And then the boy I crushed on the most wanted her. I dodged a bullet, which I only recently found out about. He was not just physically abusive to her, but did really horrible things that it isn't my place to tell. But I didn't know that then, all I knew was I was never good enough to get the guy I wanted. I ended up dating a really smart, sweet guy, a nerd with an acne pitted face, I did love him, but I knew from the start he wasn't the right one (and not because of his looks, as soon as I found out he wanted to be a doctor, I knew I didn't want to marry him). We were together many years, I even followed him to college, but I just knew I couldn't handle being a doctor's wife--mainly due to worrying about him cheating with nurses...I know it's stupid but hey it was a teenager's brain!) Anyway that's the back story on why I believed Bobby was my last chance at marriage...college was nearly over, where would I ever meet a man who would want to marry me??

You can see I also have a history of not listening to myself. I knew I wouldn't marry my high school boyfriend, yet I followed him to college and even got engaged. I wasn't attracted to Bobby and he was an awful person and yet I married. him...I knew my "friend" wasn't really a friend but I gave him my trust and loyalty (I have come to see, as with the ending of the previous relationship mistakes, this, too, had ended with me being better off and happier). But I digress again!!

Where was I? You still here? This is really for me anyway, so it's ok....

So how did I end up leaving my marriage....because I accidentally listened to that voice that I normally ignore. It took me a while and I was almost too late....and oh how different my life would be right now...

So it's December and I meet this extremely young (or so I thought) and make your heart flutter good looking guy at work. I was a floater pharmacist, meaning I was never in the same store for very long. I remember he was wearing khaki pants and a white dress shirt...that looked way too big, because he was a skinny, tall guy and probably had a hard time finding dress shirts big enough for his long arms , yet tapered for his skinny body. He had the bluest eyes and such a baby face, so pretty. I love pretty guys, but they have never liked me. He flirted with me and I brushed him off. I was married with a 7 month old at home. My life course was set and some stranger wasn't going to change that. I ran into him a few more times in the next few weeks and every time my heart would skip beats. The one time he asked me "Do you believe in love at first sight?"...I thought I would die...but refused to flirt back...which is weird because I am a flirt. I have never felt guilty about flirting because I always found it to be harmless...no one really wanted me anyway...so what was the big deal...only this time it felt wrong, because he really got to me...

My marriage had sucked up to this point...why wouldn't it? The relationship sucked before we got married. I thought a kid would help...so cliche, so naive....I thought Christmas would make everything right...when he was his usual miserable martyr self at Christmas, pulling the dead dad card still...10 years after his death...I realized this would be my life...he would suck the joy out of everything. I begged him to get counseling, he swore he didn't need it. He could "do it on his own", he would get better, be happier. I wanted to make it work. He wouldn't meet me half way. He never compromised on anything and wouldn't on this either.

So one day, feeling sad, lonely and sorry for myself at work...I was talking about my future with one of the young techs, he was talking about his plans...and I thought of that good looking manager. I hadn't seen him in a while, work was slow, so I looked up the number to the store he was at and called. I didn't even know his last name. They told me he had been transferred to a different store. I could have stopped there, should have...right? I was married....what was I doing?? I called the other store...he got on the phone...I asked if he remembered me...being the flirt he was, he said something cutesie...and we talked for a while. I found out he had given his 2 weeks notice....I had almost missed ever being able to find him...he talked me into stopping by his store on my way home his last week. I shouldn't have. I convinced myself it was harmless...I'd never see him again.

While I was visiting in the store he had arranged for one of his stockers to put a card and flowers on my windshield. I hadn't fully committed to even stopping to see him, but he was prepared. The card said something like "Thanks for making this the best day of my year"

I was hooked. C'mon ...how romantic is that? I was in a relationship with a man who constantly told me how lucky I was to be with him and here's this gorgeous guy falling all over himself, just because I stopped by to say bye. We continued talking to each other behind Bobby's back and he would write me long notes telling me how I deserved to be happy and that I should go for what I wanted. That I was too young to be stuck in such an unhappy relationship. There was nothing physical at his point.

I don't remember how things progressed from there, except one day we met at a Friendly's for lunch, so he could meet my son. Next thing I know he's trying to convince me to move to California with him (funny, right?)...one night Bobby came home and found me crying...I was trying to figure out how or if I could leave. I didn't want to leave my family, I didn't want Bobby to not be in my son's life, but I felt running away was the only option. I was too much of a coward to face anyone.

I confessed I had met someone and was trying to figure out my next step. First there was his usual anger..how could I do this to him...blah blah blah...he didn't do any of the right things, and for this I am grateful. He was exactly who I thought he was and reacted accordingly..sort of like that "friend" in my life. He tried to use my mother against me. They tried to make it all about post partum depression, I was the one who started seeing a therapist. I had started spending nights at Dave's, being told that if I did "that was it" there was no coming back...he just didn't get it...threats weren't the answer. Being controlling wasn't the way to fix things. The day I decided, and believe me there were lots of tears in this decision, to sign a lease on apartment for myself...he showed up...with a pedestal and a poem. Promises to put me on a pedestal if I just didn't sign the lease and came back home, promises to seek therapy for himself....too little, too late....

I wish I could say I never looked back. The first year was so tough for Dave..I had one foot in and one foot out. I was so concerned for my son's future. I wanted him to grow up in a stable traditional family....Christmas was so hard...and I spent it at my family's house with BOBBY. I don't know how Dave stuck with me, that had to be so hard. He was always so worried I would go back. He knew I loved HIM, but he completely understood my issues with raising my son....he is so compassionate. So giving.

I hated cheaters and I became one. And it was the best thing I ever did. It was brave. It may have been "wrong" but it was so right. I can't judge people and what they do, because I don't know what is going on behind their closed doors.

Now you know what was going on behind mine, so I hope you judge me fairly....but ultimately, I don't care because what I did was right for me.

19 years ago....I followed that voice that told me Dave was someone special...I tracked him down and we ended up in California...happy, together.

A movie review and more

A facebook friend recommended a movie, and while I have never actually met her, based on her posts and blogs that she has written, I had a feeling if she liked it, I would too.

Besides...with the hubby working nights, I am left with so much alone time, I am always looking for a good movie as a distraction.

The movie is I Am directed by Tom Shadyac. It is only an hour and seventeen minutes. And it is filled with really interesting scientific facts--that span everywhere from how yogurt reacts to our emotions to the effects our collective emotions can have on a random number generator.

It is a documentary. After a cycling accident left the famous director...I had never heard his name but you have definitely heard of his movies...Ace Ventura, Patch Adams, The Nutty Professor....anyway....he was left with a concussion that wouldn't heal. It prompted him to want to ask the world's greatest thinkers "What is wrong with the world?" and "What can we do to fix it?".


Me, being the overthinker that I am....let me stop here and point out that I find this to be one of my worst mental issues, don't think I mean this as "I think more than you, so nah nah I am smarter"...overthinking is not that, it is just the inability of my brain to not cycle through every scenario in the most mundane of life events, blowing the tiniest thing way out of proportion to it's actual meaning.

Anyway...I heard the question and immediately started answering it to myself....nearly missing the movie, as I had to reel myself in and shut up my thoughts not to miss any interesting bits! As the movie progressed I patted myself on the back because it was exactly where his answer was headed...we are all self centered and care about ourselves more than others. Should I have said "SPOILER ALERT"? Probably not since it's a documentary...the answer isn't nearly as important as the evidence.

The funny thing is..I was right, but wrong....but even more right because I was wrong....WHAT?!?!?

Follow with me...while watching I remember thinking "I love this movie but I don't get the title, he would have reached more people with a better title"  I got the whole way through the movie not getting it....until he blasted me in the faee with it at the end..."What is wrong with the world?"...."I am"....so you see...I was right...being self centered is  part of what's wrong with the world....but I was sooooo self centered believing I wasn't included in the problem, because I have gotten to the place where he is...realizing that life is so much more than how much stuff I can acquire or "making it" by someone else's definition.....so by thinking about me (ie being self centered) I missed the obviousness of the answer I AM and thus proving I am  in fact still a part of the problem, we just can't stop making it all about us. Not sure I explained that well but you are smart you get what I mean...

I'm not sure if he comes out and actually says that self centeredness is the problem, but it is definitely involved as I see it...Competitiveness is about me...what can I get for me....

He focuses a lot on how competitive our society is...and how that has spread throughout the whole world. And how we approve of competitiveness and have lost some of our cooperativeness...and how we have twisted Darwin's words to fit with that philosophy...I'm not going to tell you the whole movie...watch it to see how he does that.

He doesn't just talk the talk...he follows through. He sells his 17000 sq ft Beverly Hills mansion, he stops traveling on private planes. He doesn't say what he does do with all of his money now, but he has realized this quest for stuff was insatiable and did not bring happiness. (On a side note...Rick Springfield (you know, MY idol!) also has this revelation when he has everything he ever wanted, fame, money, a beautiful wife and yet is still depressed).

Some people say that a big problem in our society is the way the media and Hollywood place so much emphasis on body image and I agree, but the underlying problem is that we teach our children that success is about "making it big"and not for yourself, but because of what others will think of you (see? same as your body image...it isn't about being healthy, but looking good FOR OTHERS!)...big being defined by what career you end up ....and not how noble it is, but how much you earn....it is defined by what you can get...you have to not just be a homeowner but have a big home...how nice is your car..have you travelled the world....why can't we be impressed by people who help the world? Why do teachers and firemen and cops make less than CEO's of banks or retail companies? Why are our priorities so fucked up??

The kind of funny thing is...I watched a Russell Brand stand up show the other night (The Messiah Complex) and his show aligns perfectly with this message in this documentary...how crazy is that? A foul mouthed, recovered Heroin addict gets it...and is spreading the same message...he points out that our culture values celebrities as our people to look up to and then he goes on to talk about who he looks up to. In an educational, intelligent and hysterical way he discusses Gandhi, Che Guevara and Malcolm X...with a bit on Jesus Christ and homosexuality. It isn't often you can watch a foul mouth comedy show that mentions the word cunt more times than I can count, talks about fucking your cat and end up with more knowledge than you went in with and a hope that some people watching get his message and talk about it, spreading it to help others see how silly it is to idolize celebrities.

But I digressed again, didn't I?

Hopefully I have left you with the desire to see not one but two shows that will get you thinking about your role in what is wrong with the world...and maybe if enough people get the message...some day in the far distant future the world will be a better place....for now I am going to just keep doing my little part...and that is trying to help people find their path to happiness, by letting go of the need to have stuff!

Illusion vs Reality

So, you know me....or by reading these blogs you should know...I kind of let it all out there...I am not afraid to bare my soul.

I debated on writing this but since it's been weighing on my mind, I figured what the hell...write it and then decide if you want to publish it.

Tomorrow will mark one month since my supposed best friend stopped talking to me....for the second time in less than a 2 week period.

I say supposed because friends don't act that way...let alone best friends.

In my mind I always questioned the strength of our friendship, but I wanted to believe in it so I did. Just goes to show you that I am really good at not seeing things I don't want to see. Ok...I saw it but then ignored it.

I chose to believe I was just being my usual insecure self. Going back to my whole relationship with my first husband...so many signs he was a cheater but I didn't want to believe it until confronted by the girlfriend (and that was BEFORE I married him). He was "the best thing that would ever happen to me" as he reminded me quite frequently....and I believed.

But I digress...so the first time he stopped talking to me was because I was teasing him (through texts) that with my hubby's new schedule we wouldn't have time to spend with him and his husband. Nothing I hadn't teased about before and yet we always made time to see them, as we would have again. He ended the conversation with an abrupt..."that's fine, we can find other things to do" and proceeded not to call or text me...for days....which may not seem all that odd, except I receive numerous texts and calls daily from him. The following weekend he chose to go to his other weekend home, even though he hadn't seen his husband for a week and wouldn't see him the following week either....but he reallly wanted to snowboard. Or avoid Palm Springs....It kind of backfired when me and my hubby ended up spending an evening with his husband and some of his work friends. A very pleasant evening actually. After a facetime chat at the party, his hubby got us to make up and all was well until the following weekend.

Again a text chat started it...first after inquiring about what dinner my hubby was going to make and then making his usual snide comments, he had to throw in another snarky comment about whether our house was hot. I texted his hubby and told him that he better reel him in or I would be serious about canceling the dinner invite...we hadn't had them over for dinner in ages....one of the reasons being, he was never happy with what my hubby would prepare, so it seemed easier that we just go out to dinner, less anxiety and drama for all.

Unbeknownst to me, I guess this irked him...my unreasonable request to lay off the insults. (Apparently he can be offended the weekend before by my actual ribbing but I can't be offended by his serious jabs(he truly dislikes many dinner dishes my hubby prepares and constantly complains about how hot he is when in our house..so that isn't joking...)

So instead of bailing on dinner he comes and ruins the evening by not talking. It was extremely uncomfortable for the three of us, but especially his husband, who tried his best to make it less awkward....at one point he commented "I am walking on egg shells".

The really funny thing is the next morning he texts me..about how he ended up paying his handyman to change a lightbulb and a battery. A normal text as if nothing had happened. At this point I was still really pissed about the previous night but being the grown up that I am...still managed to respond with an "lol". And then...boom...that was it....no calls...no texts for days....once again his hubby tried to patch things up but I wasn't having any parts of it.....


Am I wrong? That isn't how people who like---even love---each other, treat each other. It is childish and ridiculous and an unbelievable way for a friendship to end. And yet...it did.

So now I wonder how I can mourn something that never was....there never was a friendship...it was an illusion...no different than the illusion of my first marriage. I wanted to believe I had a friend, a dear friend. But I fooled myself...all the evidence of his past friendships and their dissolution warned me, but I chose to ignore it. I believed I was different. I believed I mattered.

So I mourn instead the ILLUSION of what I thought I had.

The past 6 weeks have sucked....I have been so bored and lonely with my hubby stuck on nightshift. It would have been nice to have my friend beside me. But, honestly, he wouldn't have been...because he always bailed when things looked tough. He bailed on his friend with the brain tumor, he would have bailed had I decided to separate from my hubby last year with the whole email debacle....he admits he doesn't want to be around unhappy situations...he is THE definition of fair weather friend.

And I knew this....yet I continued pretending we were best friends. Knowing this day would come. When I would be discarded and forgotten. I have my theories on why....but right now I can't separate the insecure from the irrational or the angry from the hurt.

I steered clear of having women best friends...the last time that worked for me was high school. College was a huge disaster...back stabbing bitches. And then I was married and had a kid and wasn't into that whole mom club bs....I loved my kid but I didn't want to be around other people's kids...eww!!

My best friend was my sister. And we all know how that ended....same way....something utterly stupid...that shouldn't end a friendship, let alone between sisters...it's mending now, but has a long way to go. We text..but still haven't talked.

I have always found best friends to be overrated. Again I should have followed my instincts.....but somehow I let him in...hell, I let down walls that I had only let down for my hubby. He knew all of my insecurities, all my crazy....and he stayed...so I thought it was real.

But a real relationship wouldn't end this way...if I mattered. If how I thought of us, was how he thought of us....we wouldn't be where we are today.

His hubby says we are both to blame. When I am wrong I will admit it...I am wrong a lot. I did nothing wrong....nothing more than trying to point out that the polite way to accept a dinner invitation, isn't to comment on the quantity or composition of the meal...you eat it and if you are hungry stop and get food on your way home. If you find my home uncomfortably warm....invite me to yours...or suggest a restaurant....stop accepting the invites...it's an hour...suck it up.

He was never the easiest person to get along with and he will be the first to admit it....and to tell you  that he won't change. So he couldn't lay off on the touchy subjects...it was "walking on eggshells' and we weren't worth it....I wasn't worth it. We tried to accept him the way he was....but in the long run, we asked too much. And the truth of our friendship was revealed....it was fragile...so easily broken...because fantasies are just that ...a fragile version of reality, once you see the illusion, you can't unsee it...and all you are left with is the cold hard truth that was there was nothing there all along. I believed. And I will get over the loss, because the reality was I never had it.

Coming up on 2 years!!

The past few weeks I have been having some revelations. Nothing Earth shattering. Just kind of silly little thoughts that randomly pop in my head.

Driving home from work the other night, with the top down...in March...at 10 pm....I realized I haven't worn a coat in nearly 2 years...and I won't ever HAVE to wear one again. If I CHOSE to go somewhere cold, to ski...or if I am forced to visit the East in the winter. At this point, the cold is still too fresh in my mind, and just reading about the winter they have had this year...ughhhh....I can't even THINK about wanting to go somewhere cold on purpose, and I used to love skiing. It just, literally, gives me chills to think about it. I can't imagine being able to wear enough layers to not be cold....and I don't ever want to be that cold again....I had to wear long sleeves a couple times this winter while running and it would take 2 miles sometimes for my hands to not be cold. That is as cold as I ever want to be. So, out of the blue, realizing I hadn't put a coat on...that made me smile...and really happy! Don't get me wrong I have had to wear a light jacket, even as early as the end of October when we went for a night time walk to look at Halloween lights. And, of course, in December when we laid out to see the most amazing meteor shower ever. But a light jacket is a far cry from a stifling coat, gloves and scarf...with your face still half frozen off....no thank you.


This afternoon while laying outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my skin. temperature around 90. Not feeling hot, just feeling wonderful. I had the thought that during the whole process of deciding to move, once we figured out California was the destination, I had no fear. I am obsessive. I worry about everything. My only worry was related to selling the stupid PA house. I should have, looking back, been terrified of the "what if's". What if we didn't find jobs making enough money? What if we were really lonely and missed our friends and family (yes we miss them but not in a lonely kind of way)? What if we hated the summers? What if I regretted leaving Andrew behind? None of those things worried me. And that is bizarre. Like I said...I am a worrier...it is what I do best. I obsess. I think of all of the worst case scenarios. I didn't even THINK about earthquakes and for years I resisted Dave's desire to move to CA for the sole reason of fear of earthquakes. But once it was decide we wanted to live here, it wasn't even a distant thought in my mind.

The only thing that can explain this has to be the prospect of no more pharmacy. I was so focused on ending my career, I didn't worry that I wouldn't find a new one. Or that I would miss the money or any of the other things I should have been obsessing about. I just saw the light at the end of the tunnel and ran carelessly, willingly and blindly into it. Trusting that to end that career would solve any problem.

The craziest thing? I was right. I have had not one regret. Better than that.....I love it here. I love every single thing about here. And I accept things that aren't perfect, knowing that PA was far from perfect. I have yet to leave my house and not marvel at the beauty. Every single time. In a car, during a walk, during a run or just sitting in the back yard. I never get tired of the palm trees, the constant greenery, the mountain. The smells.

It's been nearly 2 years and it feels like I am home. Like this has always been home. I wish for everyone to feel this way about where they live.

We want to go back for a visit but we talk about it and neither one of us is ready to leave yet, even for a short time. There's still so much to see, so many weekend trips we could take, but we have no desire to leave. We felt our money was better spent fixing things up that we use every day, like the back yard and pool, painting the exterior of the house. We are almost done and maybe then we will consider a trip...or maybe because our paradise is a little more perfect, we really won't be able to tear ourselves away!

Pretty? Do I care?

I have never thought I was pretty. Well, that's not quite true, I had Glamour Shots done and after their makeup and hairdo and photoshopping, I thought the pics were pretty.

I don't think I ever really thought about it until 4th grade. I got a REALLY short haircut and was even mistaken as a boy by a substitute teacher. That's when it all started to go downhill. Shortly after that we moved. Moving is hard enough for a confident kid, that haircut and the mistaken identitiy killed my confidence.

After that I remember only focusing on the negative. And there was(were?) a lot of negatives. I would scream at God...not out loud, but instead of praying. I can remember crying and asking why? Why wasn't it enough to curse me with red hair? Why did I have to have freckles, be short, be small for my age, get pimples, need glasses? Why on top of all of that did he have to make my sister pretty? I was miserable and full of self hate. All I wanted was for boys to think I was pretty. My sister had boyfriends from kindergarten and on. I honestly believed I would die a spinster. There was no light at the end of the tunnel.

In eighth grade I ran a time trial in gym and caught the eye of the high school Cross Country coach. This is when I finally started to feel confidence in something. I even dared to like boys and have crushes. Eventually I would end up dating (and engaged to) a fellow runner. It wasn't long until running no longer gave me confidence, I was told my thighs were developing and slowing me down. The tiny body that made me fast was finally going through puberty and ruining my running career! At this point I didn't really care, I had a boyfriend now and that was all that mattered. I clung to him, even though I never believed him to be the husband I wanted, I was sure he was my only chance. The biggest reason he wasn't marrying material was because he wanted to be a doctor. While most girls would think that's great, all I thought about was the constant threat of nurses chasing him (yes I watched too much TV) and the fact that he wouldn't be at home enough.

Once I got to college, I traded him in for a complete ass. A cocky guy who was not my type at all, but so confident that one drunken night I screwed up and hooked up with him. He then proceeded to cheat on me for the first 8 months, and there were red flags but again, I thought (and he reinforced it) that he was my only chance at being a wife. Even after the cheating was discovered, I was constantly told that he was the best I would ever do. Never did he make me feel pretty. And when I finally left him, he actually had the nerve to blame our non existent sex life on the fact that I was wearing sweats and no makeup while taking care of our baby. What makes that especially funny, is the absolutely frumpy ass ugly sweatshirt and baggy ass sweatpants he would wear...long before we ever had a baby. So I was supposed to keep myself looking perfect, but he could be a slob.

Enter Dave. Dave has always made me feel beautiful. I have never understood it but always believed that he truly felt that way. Here was this amazingly handsome and kind, good guy and he felt that way about me. After being with Dave I actually started to think I was too good for my ex.

But here we are 19 years later and I still don't think I am pretty.

I bring this up now because the number of strangers telling me I am pretty or a beautiful woman or some variation on that has increased dramatically. I am getting older and any possibility Dave had of ever convincing me that I was pretty is dwindling every day as I see the wrinkles and now the white hairs, appear. What are people seeing when they look at me? Am I too critical of myself? Don't they see that crevice the size of the Grand Canyon between my eyes? The one that makes my restless bitch face bitchier.

It isn't just older men, or even men at all. I had a lady absolutely raving about my hair the other day. We were talking about hair cuts and she said "Even if someone gave you a bad haircut, with your natural beauty, it wouldn't matter" WHO was she looking at? I get lots of compliments on my eyes and my hair...maybe those individually are okay, but what about my yucky nose and freckled face and all those lines I am getting??

All of this got me thinking...what would it take for me to believe I am pretty?

Of course my first thought was "If Rick Springfield said it, I'd believe it" (Yes, I know I have issues with the Rick obsession) But, as I thought about it, nope that wouldn't do it either. He's such a nice guy, especially to his fans, he would tell anyone they were pretty.

I concluded that as long as I have a mirror, I will never believe it. I am just too hard on myself. But the up side is....I have long passed caring anymore...as long as Dave finds me beautiful that is all that matters. That doesn't mean I won't stop trying to delay this aging process because I still think one day he will look at me and see an old lady and with his damn eternally youthful appearance he could trade my wrinkled ass in for a twenty something chick. (But I know you won't honey....because you love me...ME....not what I look like! Thank you!!)

I have gotten better at taking compliments. Before I kind of treated people like the liars I thought they were, now I just smile and thank them...Dave helped me with that!

Running post--no more running alone!

I figure since I mention running in the title of my blog, I should probably blog about it once in a while! :)

So, a couple of months ago, the hubby decided to start running with me again. He has done it before but never lasted...first he had a knee issue that turned out to be a torn meniscus. He had surgery but still had some pain occasionally and decided since he didn't like running anyway, he just wasn't going to do it. So I was back to running alone. Don't get me wrong, I like to run alone...sometimes...but I really like running with him.

Since he stopped there have been several more articles written about the positive effects of running. The most recent stating that even just 1 mile 5 times a week would improve your health and help stave off the effects of aging. Even moreso than just walking....something to do with the differences in cadence and muscles used...who knows...it was months ago that I read it...I'm old now and if I don't write it down, I don't remember....

So I mentioned that to him. I reminded him that his knee only ever hurt after running more than a mile. Some weeks went by and then he brought up that he might want to try running again. We started off with a short walk to the park (a little less than half a mile) and then we'd run in the park about a mile and a half, so he could be on a softer surface. Then we'd walk home. We now walk to the park and then run home, total running is about 2 miles, sometimes a bit more.

Another issue we had is that he is 6'4" (well 6'3" now!)....so his stride is obviously much longer than my 5"3" stride. I tend to run my normal runs fairly slow...I am not training for anything, and just doing it for my enjoyment so why push it, right? Typically  I would run 3 miles at an average closer to 10:30...the first mile being slower and the last faster. If I ran longer, oddly enough, I would average 9:30. It really takes me 3 miles to get warmed up and then those last miles just fly by. Yet when I race a 5k, I average 8:15....but that's with training and adrenaline. I think I am just too lazy to run fun runs faster.

He seems to prefer to run at about 9:30. This isn't quite as big of a problem for me when we do the warm up walk but still I do struggle a bit for the first few laps.

During this time I also finally had it with my shitty watch...the Garmin 405. Hated it from day one...and suffered with it for 2 years, because hey I'm "poor" now and can't just drop a hundred or more bucks every time I get annoyed by a gadget. I finally sucked it up and got a new one...one without so many bells and whistles, the Garmin 10. I LOVE IT! It actually has a feature (probably the 405 had it, but buried somewhere in it's gawdawful menus) that lets you know if you are on, under or ahead of PACE. You set the pace. I really wanted to set it at 10, for when I run, but compromised and set it for 9:45, figuring that was closer to where he likes to run.

After using it, I am now running even my solo runs faster, and yet it still feels comfortable. I guess part of this is due to running faster with him, a couple times a week for the past couple months, but I think part of it is the gentle reminder that I am behind pace. It could also be that while I am running about the same number of weekly miles, it is split over 3 really short runs and 1 longer run or even sometimes just 2 really short runs and one really long run....for example, ideally I'd like to see Dave run 3 times a week, 2 miles, but due to time constraints of trying to get workouts in and not do too much on his work days, it doesn't always happen. So on those weeks where we only run twice I run my solo run at 5 or 6 miles instead of 3 or 4.

He still says he doesn't like running but admits that he does feel better in real life...at his physically demanding job, especially.

So now we can add running to one of the many physical activities we do together.

The one down side is there just aren't enough hours to workout, run and hike (can't remember the last time we hiked!) and play tennis (which we have only done once since getting racquets)....and soon summer will be here and we will need to add laying, er, ummm. I mean swimming in the pool! :)

But, hopefully, once we get to actual retirement age and have more free time, we will be able to do ALL of these things because we took the time to keep in shape now!

Happy and sad

Just watched this:



http://www.upworthy.com/a-mother-doesnt-understand-why-her-daughters-depressed-her-daughter-clears-that-up-for-her?c=ufb3

Seems everyone is trying to explain depression to you non-depressed folks. I guess since I don't fall into the "never been there" group, I can't know if it tells the story in a way you can understand.

I have certainly tried to explain it a million times to friends, family, my husband.

Recently I have begun to compare trying to be happy to trying to be thin.... Bear with me....

Some people are genetically predisposed to be overweight. They have to really fight to maintain an average weight and will probably never be able to be model thin (if that's even a reasonable goal). I am starting to think that some people are just predisposed to be sad. Everything in my life is great, I have zero complaints. Truly zero. If I have one it is that my husband had a job he liked better or that he didn't have to work full time. I, personally, want to work. He is still of the mind set that winning the lottery would be great so neither of us had to work. I think work is a necessity. I used to think if I didn't have to work then I could just fill the time with volunteering. But volunteering just doesn't fulfill the same need that having a job does. I don't feel like I HAVE to be there so if I am in one of my moods I sometimes skip going, like today. And that is a bad thing, because that is how the downward spiral starts. But I digress.

So....my life is great, if asked I would say yes, I am happy. Then these days come, and they feel like they come so often. It is a fight, a fight that feels constant, though it isn't. A fight that feels unwinnable (is that a word?), though I have won many, many times. It is an exhausting fight. And that is why some people turn to suicide. They lose the fight. It only takes that one day that you just can't fight anymore to literally ruin your life, to end it. So many survivors realize this, how close they came to never having to fight the fight, but most will tell you they are glad to have survived to fight another day. Although I am sure they would all prefer to not have to fight at all.

I guess drugs (prescription ones) are the right answer for some people. I think I remember not "fighting" so much when I was on Prozac. I also remember losing my life in a different way. I had no emotion. Is that living? I also was not only not bothered by road kill and gore, I was fascinated and obsessed with it, seeking it out on internet sites, like some kind of porn. I missed so much of my child's life from sleeping. Some days I would sleep 20 hours. I slept WHILE driving. It was no way to live. And I won't do it again. Perhaps if I got to the point of suicidal thoughts again, I would consider it, but right now I am just ....tired....tired of the struggle to allow myself to be happy. I AM HAPPY, it just feel buried sometimes. Buried under insane paranoid thoughts, buried under anxiety over completely inane things, buried under a complete loss of motivation. I go from feeling like I am supposed to be doing something, not knowing what, but that it is very important, to wanting to literally bury my head. To bury my head would stop the thoughts, that are constant and annoying and lying. I resort to deliberately thinking about things that I know will make me sad or hurt or angry....because....why? Because ...genetically I am supposed to be sad? Sounds stupid. But why do I sabotage my happiness with useless thoughts?

I try to find reasons, as if that will stop the thought sabotaging. Three days in a row of clouds...I am perimenopausal....but is that it? Or am I just supposed to be sad and I have to fight, fight FIGHT to stay happy? It's so much work. I guess the reward is worth it. Maybe there's a middle ground. There was skinny Oprah, that wasn't destined to last, then she got fat again and now I think she's somewhere in between....can I be ok with being in the middle? I am not sure even that wouldn't still be a huge struggle. I mean if I have to fight, do I want to settle for mehh, when I could fight a little harder and be happy?

Reading some comments on the above video, I noted that a few people mentioned exercise or a hobby as their way to battle depression. And, while I agree, it isn't the end all answer...because....take today for example, I KNOW going to the shelter and playing with cats makes me feel better, but I have to GET there. I told myself I wasn't in the mood (how can you not be in the mood to play with kitties? Because you are sabotaging your happiness) I promised myself the reason I wasn't going was so I could run. Running always (well almost always) helps on these days. But, again, you actually have to DO IT! I got my clothes out and that's as far as I have gotten....decided to nap instead...because what is a better cure for the blues then sleeping and then waking up feeling horrible that you wasted your day! I ended up laying there for 15 minutes before deciding to get up and write.

And that's how the downward spiral begins....because once you waste your day you hate yourself and that's what the thoughts wanted all along...they win...but I still have an hour until my hubby gets home and I am going to go run right now....and hopefully I will end up the victor in today's battle.

FUCK YOU depression....I refuse to let you win.