Always trust your instincts

This is going to be a hard post to write.

I wanted to re-read my posts about what a great relationship I have, but I have done enough crying over the past 36 hours for a lifetime. So I can't.

I did re-read some drafts I wrote and I may post them so you can get a really good look inside of my head. But you will have to hunt them down because I won't link them to twitter or facebook.

My problem with trusting my instincts is that being an overthinker there is a lot of noise in my head. And it is hard to separate the fearful thoughts from the insecure ones and from the actual instincts.

28 years ago I was in a relationship where for 8 months I thought my boyfriend was cheating on me. He kept a picture of his ex in his wallet and it bothered me and I would confront him and he'd say he just forgot to take it out and months later it was still there and same denials. Then right around my 21st birthday I got a call from the other girlfriend. He was still seeing her. I was devastated. I couldn't figure out HOW he had time for her, it was at least an hour drive to where she lived and he was almost always with me. But my gut had told me and my gut was right. And my dumbass, being insecure stayed and even married him. It's not hard to see why it didn't last.

I left him for my current husband. If you have read my posts you know he is amazing.

There was one thing I was sure of ...he would NEVER cheat on me. He just wasn't that kind of guy.

Everyone I know thought we had the best relationship. They thought he adored me.
I thought this too.

He's hurt me many times over the past 21 years. And I have gotten past it.
Shortly after we were married he lost his job and his grandmother within the span of a week and he disappeared. The details are fuzzy because I am great at blocking out things too hurtful to remember. But basically this was before cell phones. It was Valentine's weekend, I don't remember what he said but he left. No timetable of when/if he'd be back. I freaked. I had to work the whole weekend and my coworkers got me through it. I teetered between changing the locks and just wanting him back so bad.
I was desperate and called his mom to see if had gone there, she was pissed at him too (she is the best mother in law in the world, if he fucks up she won't defend him). He ended up coming back after about 24 hours. He had stayed at his best friend's house. And we went on as if nothing happened.

Years lapsed, fairly happy years. I was still on prozac so I wasn't the best wife to be around, I spent so much time sleeping. But we weren't miserable. I was as happy as I could be.

Then we started planning our move, they were good years...lots of vacationing and trips to find out where would be best to "retire" to.

I may have blogged about what happened in 2013, but the short story is, shortly after arriving here in California I discovered an email that he had written just inches from me on the sofa. It was to a former coworker back East. It had a slightly inappropriate tone --along the lines of I wish we had met sooner, wish we got to know each other better, etc. But the important part was the secrecy and lies. Finding the email and then scouring his computer I found so many other lies...really fucking stupid things to lie about...like an email from his loser brother.
I didn't think he was capable of lying to me. I really thought he was the perfect man. The doubts of seed were sown. What was he capable of? I explained to him in explicit detail that plutonic relationship can go bad quickly. I explained why I talk about guys I work with he might tempt me, if it's out in the open it's harder to then keep secret. I thought he understood.

I gave him a really hard time, I was convinced this could have turned into an emotional affair. I warned him that was worse for me than just sex with a one night stand. (and now I am not so sure that is completely true...both would devastate me). He thought I was over reacting and the game of "you have never trusted me" started. I tried to explain the past haunts me and how insecure I am that lies don't help trust issues. He promised to never lie again. And once again...I believed.

Peri menopause has played a number on my brain. I get paranoid, angry and depressed for no reason. And I try to be aware of that.

So a few months ago, my instincts told me something was up. I didn't know what and I went through my routine of questioning him. He went through his of denial. Blaming my brain. Acting hurt that I didn't trust him. I had lapsed and gone on his computer looking for proof. His response was to make me feel guilty for having the thoughts and then acting on them. I tried to shut up my gut. You will see the posts of my head arguing with itself-they are very rough drafts and totally in the moment.

Then he quit his job...out of the blue...no job lined up. He is the main income and our health insurance. He did this 3 weeks before our first vacation in 4 years. Now I KNEW my gut was right...something was wrong. He finally admitted that he hasn't been "feeling right". I had noticed he was drinking more (only like a beer or two a night, couple times a week, some mixed drinks here and there, but he never drank that much)...he of course dismissed me as being a nag, but I KNEW something wasn't quite right. We talked, he convinced me it was just something in his head. But said many worrisome things, making me really question our future. He wasn't able to make me feel secure about what he wanted. This fueled my instincts. I grilled him about other women. The same hurt denials, the same I would never do that to you, I would leave first. And I swallowed it all and dealt with my guilt over my false accusations.

The cruise came, he had some panic attacks, I was so concerned for him. For us. I know my brain tells me to do some stupid shit but I have been dealing with it for years and know how to silence the crazy thoughts and not act on them (like running away). I voiced my concerns because he said his reason for quitting was just this overwhelming feeling that he HAD to do it. I was worried he'd get a feeling like that and need to leave. He couldn't tell me he wouldn't. I was scared most of the time.

I would joke with our friends about his girlfriend Rachel. He still denied anything inappropriate. I think I even lapsed and did another computer check, found he was on facebook page of a girl named Rachel. I went  for a run, hyperventilated, sure this meant the end of our relationship. That gut feeling was too strong and I thought I had found proof. I blew up at him, I was sure he was cheating with the coworker or at least thinking about her, but it was a different Rachel. He acted hurt again, more guilt on my part for not trusting him.

After our trip he confessed he had had another panic attack on the ship and texted our pet sitter on international waters. He knew I'd see it on the bill. He had lied again. I know it was a stupid lie but with all my fears and my instincts still screaming I overreacted and we had a huge fight. He couldn't answer the question "Do you want to be with me?". I left for work not knowing if we had a future. I came home that night and he had magically reversed course and told me of course he wanted to be with me. I promised to work on my trust issues and not be a needy bitch.


And here we are today. Vegas happened...it affected me a lot. This past Thursday I had a meltdown in the middle of the night. He found me downstairs crying and talked me through my insecurities I told him I had this strong feeling we may not make it to our next anniversary. He acted like I was being ridiculous and that it was just my hormones. Everything was great, he said. He had no more doubts about us.

Saturday night, he's on the sofa inches from me, I see an email on his computer to a Rachel. Subject line Re: Smokey. I don't say anything, he hates when he thinks I am looking over his shoulder. I wait for him to tell me, He mentions he's texted her to have her text a guy who has a job lead. But no mention of the email. He tells me the guy won't text him back but he texts Rachel because they are both religious. I say "Why didn't you tell me she was religious, I know you'd never want to cheat with a religious nut" (that hurts so much now). Meanwhile he was texting her that night, next to me...professing his love.

We go to bed, I feel I MUST see that email. I wait for him to fall asleep and I sneak down to look at it. I have so much guilt for doing this but I HAVE to see it. It's completely innocent and I feel like a fool. I head back up to bed. I decide to write him an email with questions....asking why he's emailing her, doesn't he know my insecurities and how this would fuel them. The tone of my email is hurt and just wanting him to reassure me. I send it but then I get this need to see his phone....that fucking gut instinct....and I know he won't have kept anything incriminating but I HAVE to see it.

And there it is ...in green and white....the proof....the words are a blur, but there's hun's and love and baby's...what am I looking at?? Is this real life? How can he explain this?

I storm upstairs, I don't know why I didn't actually read any texts at this point...the words I saw were enough...and so 12:30 Sunday night my world blew up. He was fucking cheating on me.

It all came out. He claimed he wants to be with me. The usual...it just happened....the I don't know why's. So many questions ....so few answers.....so much screaming and crying....

He supposedly only kissed her. I believe this..not because he doesn't lie, but because of how our relationship started, he's really weird about having sex with just anyone.

He's met up with her several times, bringing HER food to work..buying fast food for HER while I pack lunches. Meeting her while I work. Meeting her while I went to Magic Mountain...I went without him because he hates it....trying to do something nice for him and he goes to her....

I tried to explain to him that my words may have said I don't trust him but my actions ALWAYS showed otherwise. He went on many weekend trips with his guy friends, I was always ok with it. Recently I encouraged him to go out with a coworker from his first job here...he's married to a stripper , God knows what bar they would go to, but I was ok with it...Would I go to Magic Mountain leaving him home alone, if I really believed he was cheating...

I know this isn't about me...and yet I still want to blame myself...I still hate myself so much. I hate myself for believing him over my gut...I should have trusted ME and not him.

I don't know what kind of person can let someone pour their heart out abut their insecurities, remind him that I ignored my instincts before and sit there and tell me my instincts are shit, make me feel guilty for doubting him, use them to suggest that we shouldn't be together because HE can't live with my false accusations....ALL THE FUCKING TIME MY INSTINCTS WERE RIGHT AND MY ACCUSATIONS NOT FALSE!!! How does someone who loves you do that?

There were weeks worth of texts on the phone. He didn't want me to read them, which only made me need to read them more. It hurt...they were rough...there was sexting...and there weren't any words that made it sound like he wanted to end it with her...every insecurity I had was written in his text. He was staying for fear of how I would react. He literally wished I would find someone else so he could be with her. He loved her more than me. No I didn't think that ..HE WROTE THAT.

He claims they are just words...he didn't mean any of it. He was never going to leave me.

Every thing out of his mouth are words,..words that mean nothing. Only actions matter now.

He has agreed to couples therapy and single sessions for himself.

Are you wondering HOW,WHY are you giving him another chance?? Yeah, me too.

I told him I feel like a battered wife who just keeps going back for more.

He keeps telling me  he doesn't want to hurt me, while hurting me.

I don't know if I am doing the right thing. But I am trying to trust my gut.

My gut tells me this is the man I will be with in my 80's. My gut tells me the love I feel for him and from him is real.

My gut also tells me he needs to comfort her. It's who he is. He says he doesn't. He says he won't.
My gut is silent about that....

I want to believe him. I want to believe in us so bad.

I know this is about him. He has his own issues about his self worth. I want to believe if he gets therapy that he will be "fixed" like I was and we can go back to the wonderful relationship I bragged about in previous posts.

I don't know what the future holds for me or for us. I do know I will survive. I am stronger than I think. I am hoping my instinct is right once again and that we will have a happy ever after.

I guess I will have a better idea after our first session on Thursday.

I keep fluctuating between feeling like a desperate weak woman clinging to a man for wanting to just go back to how it was before...to thinking he doesn't deserve me...to blaming myself...to hating him...to hating me....

The one positive is.....those 8 pounds I have put on in the past 2 years are flying off...
and I have also learned that even in my darkest despair I can see the reality....there are people having way worse days than me, lying in the hospital shot up for doing nothing more than attending a concert at the wrong time...I have never been one to be able do that. I have changed, thanks to therapy and if I am being completely honest, this man, this imperfect man, he has made me stronger...only to try to tear me down. I know it wasn't deliberate or I couldn't stay, I wouldn't stay.

He's not as perfect as I thought. I told him if someone had come to me and said "One of these statements is true, which is it: Dave is gay or Dave will cheat on you" I wouldn't have hesitated ...not because I think he's gay but because I was THAT sure he would never cheat on me.

A little more about the texts.

He gave her a shirt of his to cuddle with...are they teenagers? What kind of insanity is this?
They sent each other songs back and forth...the new version of mix tapes?
He wrote her poetry. He got "rock hard". He called her "babe"...I don't know why that just sounds so stupid coming from someone nearly 50. I told him it sounded like he needed "butterflies in the stomach"...willing to throw it all away for some teenage phone fling....IS THIS REAL LIFE??

I don't know if we can survive this...like I said before....I hope my instincts are right again and that we will and I promise to always trust THEM above all else.

The price is too high

A few months ago I had a conversation with a "gun person". I listened and learned. I even acknowledged that some of his arguments were valid.

That all changed with the latest (worst) mass shooting.

Some of the arguments he made and why I no longer agree with them:

You can't limit the number of bullets people buy because you use A LOT of bullets at a shooting range. I hadn't considered the volume of bullets used during "training" (I use quotes because what are you training for? Isn't it really just entertainment?).

Here's my solution (and I am sure there is an argument against it, but guess what? I am tired of arguments that involve making a gun owner's life easier or less expensive...so save them, because they are BULLSHIT! You can fall back on YOUR interpretation of the 2nd amendment, but there's no way you can claim that amendment wants it to be easy or cheap for you to be able to bear your fucking arms.

Oh...back to the solution...sorry, a little angry today...hundreds of innocent injured and dead people do that to me..... How about you buy your bullets AT the gun range and you must use them ALL there? Hell have the government regulate the price if you are afraid you will be gouged. But it is time we start tracking and limiting how many bullets you can buy....we fucking do this for a fucking decongestant...no one is using Sudafed to kill innocent people (my argument is if you are a meth head...you don't really count as an innocent..YOU make the choice to do drugs, innocent citizens aren't choosing to be mowed down at concerts, malls, movies, schools and churches!

His next argument:

It is a pain in the ass to have to reload that is why we need semi automatic....BULLSHIT!! Your inconvenience is not my fucking concern. Your precious 2nd amendment never guaranteed you the right to not be inconvenienced....how hard to you think it was to load muskets?? Suck it up buttercup...

As for those who claim you can obtain this shit illegally? You can get drugs illegally but we still have fucking laws about it....so shut the fuck up already! People are always going to break laws but we don't have a chance at preventing these tragedies if we just blatantly allow this shit. This particular asshole seems to have gotten all of his guns legally....Do people need to own more than gun or two?? Is there a reason why we shouldn't have records on people hoarding guns? (and if you really think it's to protect yourself from the government then you are being willfully ignorant or perhaps have a touch of mental illness...because NEWSFLASH...you will never own enough weapons to protect yourself from a government with a military like ours!)

Did your precious amendment say people with mental illness should be allowed to have guns? Did it say people on no fly lists should have guns? Does it not concern you that your beloved NRA is constantly lobbying for this shit??

The latest videos from the NRA are obscene, the intention is to fill you with fear, they are no different than an ISIS recruitment video. The NRA needs to go.

This guy may have had some kind of device to allow the gun to shoot faster...is this something we should be allowing citizens to buy?

Why is there legislature to make silencers legal? What fucking purpose does THAT serve? I really had no idea...until I read the absurd comments from gun owners about how annoying it is to remember to put ear plugs in and wah wah guns are loud and it is a health concern...SERIOUSLY???
A fucking health concern? Is anyone forcing you to fire a gun? Are you really that fucking lazy you can't put protective gear on? You don't deserve to be a gun owner...period. All you care about is yourself, not how difficult it might be for the police to find an active shooter if they are using a silencer? And, again....do you need a silencer to hunt? when you are shooting an intruder? NO NO you don't....so fuck you that you are inconvenienced by having to put protective gear on...just FUCK YOU for even trying to act like that is a valid argument. Talk about snowflakes....

Do I think this latest shooting will cause anyone to be "woke" to our gun problem? No....as I have read many times..if slaughtering children in Sandy Hook didn't do it...nothing will.

I had never argued for a ban on guns...but I am there....I don't  know exactly what Australia did, but it seems to have helped a lot and even if just one mass shooting a year is prevented I'd be ok with whatever so called freedoms are lost. The price has become beyond too high and I no longer give a shit about selfish gun owners and their dumb ass arguments.

Did you know the day before this 5 people were shot and 3 died (Kansas, I think) Jimmy Kimmel mentioned it in his heart wrenching monologue...didn't even make the fucking national news...

How about the toddler that shot a couple toddlers in a home day care? Did you hear about that? We don't even bat an eye anymore...what we do do is keep trying to pass laws that will INCREASE this shit...we don't need more laws allowing concealed shit...we need laws to start protecting PEOPLE not amendments.....

Read the statistics... yearly we have mass shooting equal to the number of days in a year...so many that we only hear about the "big" ones..we are numb...we are not the greatest nation, we are far from it. We can't protect our citizens from guns, we don't care if they have access to affordable healthcare, we cringe at the thought of anyone getting anything for free, even if it benefits all of us (free college would do that), we don't give a shit about a living wage...all we care about is our own personal self....And I know we aren't all like that...but that asshat, sorry excuse for a leader has given a voice to those who are and their voice is too loud and it makes events like this somehow more horrifying. I know I can't pin the blame for this on him, but I also know he doesn't care and he will do NOTHING about it.

I am sure I have much more to say but I am exhausted. Exhausted from trying to work yesterday and not cry while listening to FWP --people bitching about prices while people lay dying in hospital rooms just because they attended a music festival with a madman who no one knew had an arsenal...if only his ammo or number of weapons had been limited...how many lives would be different?

Exhausted from trying to figure out how to live in this society that is so self centered.
Mostly I am sad.....sad that I know this won't be the last time I feel this way because the people with the money will win out and nothing will change our gun laws once again.

Fuck depression

I guess I have been denying it for quite some time now. Making excuses. Hormones. Work interfering with time with Dave. Not working enough hours so I get "bored". It's just me being an "overthinker". Excuse after excuse just to avoid admitting I have depression. I don't like to say "I am depressed" because even after all of these years, it still feels like that is saying "I am sad" and that just doesn't touch the tip of what depression is.

But the truth is probably just that I suffer with depression. And suffer is truly the best description. Depression sucks. It is so many things and unless you "suffer" with it, you just don't get that.

I'm not always sad, but again that isn't all that depression is. I love my life here in California, with the man I love doing a job that doesn't suck my soul from me, one I can even say I enjoy (with the exception of the new moron that was hired a couple months back).

I have a good life. Hell, I really believe I have a great life. I have everything I want. When I step outside of my head, my life looks perfect.

But I am depressed.

What does that mean?

It means when I stop, when I am alone, I have thoughts that don't coincide with what I just wrote. I feel....I feel trapped. Trapped inside a shell of myself. Stuck inside, antsy to get out. It doesn't make sense when I say it, it doesn't make sense when I write it. But that's how I feel. And the only escape is to be doing something that occupies my brain or to sleep.

I have noticed that I have been sleeping more lately. Not because I am tired. But to escape. I can't fall asleep at night until hours of playing solitaire finally make my eyes weary. I typically have been sleeping 8 hours (which is kinda low for me, based on my past depressive times) but once I get up, if I don't have to work or if Dave isn't here, I just want to go back to sleep. Sometimes I convince myself to do something....housework, run, work out, but more and more I have been losing that battle and sleep is winning or  rather, depression is winning. I think about going to the animal shelter and volunteering and come up with a million reasons why that won't make me feel better.

I actually reached out to a therapist during one of my sad days but I didn't follow through and probably won't--talking isn't going to help me. I know what to do and  I am perfectly capable of being happy and depressed, I don't know if that's a talent unique to me. I think all my years of therapy may help and my coping mechanisms keep the depression at bay a bit so I can feel my happiness, feel gratitude, enjoy what I have. But lately I have been thinking that the chemical imbalance is winning and therapy or coping mechanisms just won't help that. And you know medication is absolutely not an option.

As much as I hate this antsy, stuck in my body feeling, medication was worse. I lost so much of my life, so many memories. I was too busy not feeling anything and sleeping. I know I could probably find an antidepressant that wouldn't make me sleep 20 hours a day but I do not want to go back to not living just to escape these bad days. One of the only regrets I have is missing so much during my son's youngest years because I wasn't really "there".

I don't have an answer, I don't know what to do. I guess I will just keep slogging (is that a word? because it feels really appropriate) along, hoping one day these damn chemicals will get their act together and stop trying to fuck up my happy life.

I will use natural solutions to boost my serotonin. I will run more and I will eat more chocolate. I won't let depression win, but some days it feels like it's a battle with no end.

All I can really do is remind myself that contrary to what my head is trying to convince me...I am HAPPY! Most of the time it's that easy. Just shut it down. But sometimes the persuasiveness of the dark hole tempts me and draws me in. I wonder what it is like to not have any idea what this blog is about. To read this and think Holy shit, she is crazy! If you feel that way...I sure hope you appreciate your quiet mind.

Sometimes my depression expresses itself as anxiety. I have been denying that too. Trying to blame the occasional heart palpitation on perhaps my thyroid dose being a little too high or blaming it on the perimenopause. I think I have been quick to blame perimenopause because that has an end in sight...but as I am reaching 10 years, I am starting to consider the possibility this is just my life and how it will always be and THAT can be depressing! I suppose of all the diseases in the world, depression is far from the worst and I can be thankful that I don't even have it that bad, but again...there are days when telling myself that isn't enough.

Writing it all out sometimes helps...unfortunately today wasn't one of those times. Dave will be home soon and he can help me ignore, avoid and try to deny my depression a voice for now.

Fear and denial in Trumpland

During my run today I connected some dots and realized a theme among Trump supporters. Note I said Trump supporters, not Republicans, not Christians, not gun lovers....that's not to say some of this doesn't apply to some of them, but I am trying not to generalize those groups of people, just Trump supporters. Because, at this point, if you STILL support Trump, I have zero concern for your thoughts, feelings, ideas, beliefs...whatever. Because I have zero respect for you. That said I THINK...just maybe I may understand where you are coming from. FEAR. and denial.


We all know I am not the most organized blogger (or thinker, for that matter). So bear with me as I try to piece it all together in written form.

My thought process started as I was running today and a cop car passed me. I thought "It's nice that the sight of a cop car makes me feel safer" and that led to all of the rest. I thought about how different of an experience a black person or an immigrant must have seeing a cop car, especially while running. I wondered why after reading an article about a nut job local cop who was trying to frame his ex-girlfriend and stalking her new boyfriend that I still was comforted by the sight of the cop, rather than immediately wonder if he was one of the good guys. I realized it isn't too different than believing in God, or believing that our POTUS has our best interests at heart.

 Trump supporters love to preach. Trump supporters don't like anyone different than themselves. Trump supporters need their guns. Trump supporters claim patriotism at all costs. Trump supporters hate groups like Black Lives Matter. Trump supporters think it is disrespectful to question a cop's word over video or witness stories. Trump supporters don't believe in Climate change.

These things have something in common, fear. I believe the most religious among us are fearful people. They are afraid that this is it. They need the comfort of an afterlife to make death less scary. They need the comfort of a God to forgive them for their sins, to make sense out of senseless acts, to give them control when scared (they can pray and then everything will be ok, or when it's not, well then that's what God intended, he works in mysterious ways). They cling to their religious beliefs even when science and logic prove them wrong. They use their religions as weapons. And the hypocrisy (with all religions) of justifying judging or killing or discriminating against anyone who disagrees with their beliefs goes against most non religious people's ideas of common decency and humanity--but I guess God isn't interested in what seems the most decent and humane behavior if you violate one of the rules in his book (again whichever book you follow).

Trump supporters are so afraid of Muslims, immigrants, black people, poor people. Their reasons vary based on who it is, but it's all fear. The Muslims all want to kill us (contrary to facts that white males kill way more Americans than any Muslim ever has), immigrants are criminals and they want to take from us, they want free healthcare and welfare and our jobs (again no facts support any of this, but hey POTUS doesn't care about facts why should they?). Black people, well black people have just been scary since forever. They are killers, they kill each other, they want to kill us and those that don't, again, are just lazy bums using the system while we all work hard (yup, no facts to support this, but...but...but). Poor people, they are all lazy and they take from us hard workers. They are only poor by choice, they could work and have healthcare but they aren't any better than the "illegals" or the "blacks". It's all fear...fear that they are getting something that we (and you know by we, I mean, people who only consider white people true Americans, not actually ME!) aren't. Fear that they want to hurt us because we have it so much better.

They need their guns because they are so afraid. OF EVERYTHING! They are even afraid of the government they profess their loyalty so loudly to. They want their guns so they are prepared if they need to uprise against an oppressive government, and yet are too blind (or scared?) to see a dictatorship in the making. Their blind patriotism is fear, fear of admitting that our government isn't perfect, wasn't able to stop a cyber attack from Russia. If the government is vulnerable to that, what else might it not prevent? Better just to blindly believe the POTUS when he says it's fake news, even though so many non-news agencies are stating the attack did happen, and possibly with help from the GOP. They feared Obama would take their guns (he didn't), they feared he was a secret Muslim (he wasn't) with ill will planned for our country (and they still deny most of us are better off after 8 years than we were after the 2008 debacle)...but they refuse to see the Russian involvement, they refuse to even CONSIDER that Trump has only his interests at heart, even though his history shows otherwise. It is easier to believe that a woman with a history of helping others only had HER best interests in mind, even with proof to the contrary. This man has said and done nothing to show that it isn't all about him, but they still think he will do right by them. This man continues to prove he is a thin skinned bully who is not actually a man but a man baby and still they consider him a leader.

They fear groups like Black Lives Matter because the truth of how little regard there is for black lives from our society doesn't fit into their agenda. If the police really do discriminate, does it affect them? Even with evidence that it isn't just black lives, but also mentally ill people, still they refuse to accept that there could be bad cops, that one day it could hit close to home by affecting them or a loved one...it is too scary to think of the police as anything but protectors. That is why my brain still sees cops and wants to believe that means I am safe, even though that cop could be mad at an ex girlfriend and take it out on me. I want to feel safe, no one wants to feel afraid. No one wants to live in a society full of fear. That is why us non Trumpettes are getting tired. Tired of seeing the ugliness of bigotry becoming acceptable. Tired of tuning in to find out the latest outrageous, embarrassing tweet of the day. It scares us to think so many people still support and defend him and aren't willing to make him stop. We are scared of what the result of inaction will be. And we are growing weary of being fearful. We want to feel this is the same safe, free country that it always has been (in our lifetime). But what we aren't is in denial. His supporters fear fear so much they live in denial.

That brings me to my final denial point. There isn't climate change. Because it is terrifying to think of what would happen to all of us, if it is true and we do nothing. So rather than admit it is true and try to stop it or slow it, better to just deny it, then there is nothing to fear.

So while the rest of us are called snowflakes or crybabies, they are strong and "manly" and fear nothing. And will continue to watch as their healthcare is taken away, their freedom of speech is trampled on and their country is ridiculed by the world, all because they would rather deny what is right in front of them than to feel fear. Fear that the majority of us are right and are not being alarmists.

Why I exercise (with bonus marathon recap)

Note: this was written last year and for some reason I never took it out of draft form

New look for the blog...did you notice?? That other one seemed angry. This one is more me....PALM TREES!! The single greatest plant, tree...whatever...They're beautiful, whether it's sunny, cloudy or raining...and I love the sound of wind blowing the fronds.


So, I wanted to write this in response to the comment on a recent blog post implying I exercise to be a size 2. First off...I am NOT a size 2. Let's do a little history of Ann....

I was always really small...short, too thin...until puberty. Then I guess I was normal. I only remember what I weighed in high school because I remember being excited I made the cut for donating blood at blood drive they did at our school. I was somewhere between 110-120 throughout high school. I ran track and cross country 9th through 11th grade but not my senior year...and I do remember going up at least one size for my prom dress...no worries though...dorm food sucked so much that I had an Aunt talk to my mom about whether I might be anorexic (I wasn't).

I never gave much thought to my weight, or my health for that matter. I stayed pretty active til I had my kid and even then I lost my baby weight really easily and returned to my high school weight.

I had a horrible diet. I loved fast food. Loved soda. Loathed water and thought salads were "rabbit food". Thanks to my first husband being Italian, I was introduced to pastas I had never had before and it was instant love...lasagna --how did I ever live without it?

Dave has pictures of when we met...I was thin then..around 115. That was when I was 27.

I had started antidepressants then and because the weight gain was slow, I attributed it to getting old. Everyone on my mom's side is heavy and although I had always felt like I resembled my dad's side more, I figured it was just inevitable that I end up fat. I got up over 140 before I really got alarmed... and stopped weighing myself---denial at it's finest.

From the time I met Dave, he was always critical of my diet. Not because of weight, but because he didn't want me to die of clogged arteries. I was extremely resistant to his subtle (and not so subtle) attempts to get me to eat better. No one was taking my bacon or my mac n cheese away.

I quit my meds cold turkey and started to lose weight almost immediately and with zero effort. I think I had started drinking water and a little less soda but that was about it. I dropped to 130 and was happy....I think I was a size 8 at this point. I was relieved to see that I was going to continue to take after my dad's side...no worries, I could keep eating and sitting on the sofa!


Pause for the story of the marathon--the start to exercising forever


Then at Christmas 2009, I had just turned 40, I was at a family get together and my cousin was talking about marathons. I had always wanted to run one but had thought that train had left the station. I had wanted to do it by 30. Learning that Oprah did one had rekindled my interest but not enough to do anything about it. Also watching The Biggest Loser reminded me of my desire and some of the contestants were older, all in worse shape than me, so maybe it wasn't too late. I mentioned this to my cousin and she immediately began encouraging me to go for it. She said she would even fly back into town the following October to run with me. She told me how much fun it was running the Baltimore marathon (there was a spectator who hands out gummy bears, one who gave out beer--a very supportive community and you get to finish in Camden Yards) and I got to thinking "Why not?"

Let me back up....After having my kid I became somewhat of a couch potato. I would literally get winded walking up stairs. I would bitch at Dave if he parked too far away at a store. I would THINK about exercising because he did stuff, like weight lifting and pushups. A time or two I even attempted to start running again...never making it more than a mile and never doing it more than once. Dave would go to the park and ride his bike up the hills, suggesting we should go hiking...I laughed and laughed...I liked being a couch potato, I wore it like a badge. I have no idea why I was so resistant to eating better and taking care of myself but I was.

I am pretty sure he didn't think there was any way in hell I would stick with this marathon idea. I started researching training plans--realizing I had never even considered that people TRAIN for these things. I thought you just did it. I would look at the schedule and wonder if I was in over my head. I counted out the number of weeks til the marathon and when was the last possible minute I could start. God forbid I start right away....do extra?? Hell no! I was going to train, run it and go back to the couch! That was my plan all along....cross that bitch off the bucket list and boom I am done!

I started telling everyone I was going to run a marathon....I figured the more people I told, the more I would feel obligated to follow through.

I started the last week of February...in Pennsylvania....you know by now I do not like the cold. So picture me attempting to run in the most miserable of conditions (or so I thought then!). I started with a  12 week plan that would get me to 6 miles and then an 18 week plan to get me to the marathon. Each plan required 4 days of running. I hadn't run 4 days in a year let alone a week, since 11th grade! Fortunately for me I was only working 3 days a week at this time...so I only needed to run on one work day! I don't know how people who work full time train for marathons...or more!

I think the first run was supposed to be a mile or a mile and a half. Sounded so easy... especially compared to 26.2. The advice I was following (Hal Higdon's website) said not to be concerned with running the whole way, just getting the miles in. I ran for all of 2 minutes....and I was nearly hyperventilating...wtf?? I thought I was in ok shape, I mean I knew stairs winded me but that's climbing. I finished. Luckily that winter wasn't a harsh one. I don't think I ever had to run below 40 degrees.

I'm not going to lie...it sucked. That summer a neighbor saw me at party and made a comment about the way I was running and how it brought back memories of when he first started. He said I was all hunched over and looked miserable...so much for Dave telling me "No one is looking at you" whenever I would complain about how awful I must look. But he was right...I remember kind of drudging along at a snail's pace.

The more I ran, the less horrible it was...notice I don't say it was ever good....I had read about runner's high...where the fuck was mine? I started buying "real' runner's clothes, I got a GPS watch very early on so my distance would be more accurate and my course more flexible. I had been pre plotting my runs on Map My Mile a website for runners. The watch at least gave my OCD something to do. Now I could pay attention to pace. I had a goal...a huge no no for your first marathon. Your only goal should be to finish...fuck that...I was doing this once and I wasn't letting Oprah beat me! (Why Oprah? Because she was older and heavier! How embarrassing if she beat me! As if anyone else would know this! Will I ever stop caring what others think?)

I remember the first time I ran the whole planned distance, I didn't ever want to not run the whole way again. Again, no reason for this...Hal said it was ok but I am super competitive, even with myself. But then I was devastated on an 8 mile run, that for some stupid reason I ran at NOON on a hot and humid day...I had to walk and I came home, nearly ready to give up the whole stupid idea. Dave talked me down, agreeing that perhaps noon wasn't the best time to be running and that was why I had to walk, not because I was in over my head. I also had to consider I had already paid my race fee, my cousin had paid hers, was traveling from Chicago...I couldn't let her down.

Did I mention the summer of 2010 turned out to be one of the hottest on record for PA? Lucky me, right?  Well I am lucky because I have the greatest husband ever. On any run over 10 miles, he would meet me. He would have a spray bottle filled with cold water to spritz me, a replacement water bottle for my hydration belt (yes that's a thing!) and some sort of carb to keep me going (any run over an hour you need to "fuel" --- crazy things you had never considered when simply stating I'm going to run a marathon). Frozen grapes were my favorite....who knew? I was very fortunate that some of my longer runs fell on days that were overcast and with the perfect amount of rain...again, who knew running in the rain would be a good thing?

Other than that one run, I never second guessed my decision again. Not that that meant I was LIKING this. But I was obsessed now. I was doing this. PERIOD. Finally race day came and I did great...til about mile 16. I had eaten a Snickers (mini) that a spectator was handing out...breaking a cardinal rule...never eat something on race day that you didn't practice with during training. I blame the Snickers...it was also starting to get warmer...oh and it was mile 16! We were getting ready to head up a pretty long, but not terribly steep hill. I may have let that get to me mentally. I think we ran the whole thing but it wasn't long after that I walked through a water stop..I had been running while drinking until then...oh we did have a port a potty stop about mile 12...I don't think we walked too much. I do know I was tired of talking by mile 20. My cousin hadn't really trained but she was just jogging along like it was a piece of cake, she had told me a story about her sister doing some event with her and telling her she wanted to punch her in the face...I was starting to see why now.... Supposedly the hills were over....and I knew we had less than an hour to go...fucking crazy!I couldn't run 2 minutes 7 months ago and now I was all "only an hour to go"....the last 6 miles were brutal. The most your run in training is 20. This was the real deal now. I could feel the blisters on the ends of at least three toes. The crowd was saying it's all downhill from here, you're almost there....and then there was an overpass or a bridge or something but it went up....I just wanted to cry...THIS was not down hill...I had to walk again...and I was so mad and so disheartened, because I knew I was close...close to making my goal. But I HAD to walk up that itty bit slope....Then I saw Camden yards...not even realizing there was still about a mile to the actual finish line....running again, pretty fast...but where was the banner?? And boom there it was...and I began to cry...I forgot about looking for Dave or my sister in the crowd....I just ran!! I saw the clock...it had already hit 4 hours and 31 minutes...I just missed my goal...I was so relieved at being done, and wanted to be thrilled at what I had accomplished...but to be so close to my goal and not make it...I would have rather been off by 10 minutes....I got my medal, some food, some water and took my shoes off immediately....found my family...My cousin went off...I think back to the hotel....but then she texted me....my official time was in....4 hours 30 minutes and 29 seconds.....I forgot that your time doesn't start until you cross the start line and we were back pretty far....and it shouldn't have mattered so much...I mean  I ran a fucking marathon...only like 1% of the population can say that....but it did matter....and it made my day!

My knee had started to hurt a bit at some point. I hadn't really had too many problems during training. I had been able to google any symptoms, figure out the problem, do the cure and boom no real injuries. So I was a bit surprised. I had also decided I didn't want to stop running. I was now hooked...somewhere along the way I got my high. Only now I couldn't run. For 6 weeks, I couldn't run. I didn't want to get out of shape again..(who was this person??) so I started riding Dave's stationary bike until finally I could run again. It was deep into winter again...and I still hated the cold. So we bought a treadmill. I had decided I wanted to run a half marathon...and that's what I did next. Then onto a mud run and finally a 5k....I did things a bit ass backward. I did pretty well in the 5k's, they were small local ones, but I kept placing in my age group, which was really exciting! I still think my favorite distance was the half, and yet I haven't run another. The big thing is money. Racing is so damn expensive.

Marathon story over....the answer to why I exercise FINALLY!

So I got hooked from the marathon. The feeling good part was addictive....not just mentally feeling good or the accomplishment but physically I liked not being out of breath. I hadn't lost any weight from running and I wasn't trying to. But now I needed a new obsession. I wish I had taken measurements, because weight doesn't tell the whole picture, I know I lost inches off of my waist. I got a bunch of DVD's. I started with one of those big exercise balls, but quickly got bored. I moved on to Jillian and Bob DVD's. I was getting muscle. Like real muscles...I had always had these ridiculously skinny arms....during my immunization training my partner told me he had hit my bone with the needle(the receiver doesn't feel it only the giver, and it is so gross, I had it happen a couple times!)...because I had nothing there but skin and bones!

I did lose a few pounds but more importantly my belly got flatter. My arms looked nice. And I felt great. My core was hard as a rock. I was also eating better now. Cut back more on soda, for a while I had cut out all white flour...(Dave had always been trying to get me to eat his weird bread but I resisted--tastes like twigs)...but that single change made a huge difference...I lost 5 pounds! I gradually added some white flour back in, but still try to limit pasta and eat mostly wheat bread now.

I have come to realize those 5 pounds are what Jillian calls vanity pounds. I don't NEED to weigh 125. And it is a struggle to stay there. Even though I still hover near 130, I now wear between a 4 and 6...because there is muscle where the fat used to be. I am coming to terms with this as a good weight to maintain.

But why do I exercise??

I want to get old. But I don't just want to live to 100. I want to be Betty White or any other number of active 90 year olds. It is easier to be mobile at 90 , if I am mobile now. I don't want to go back to gasping for air at the top of a staircase. I love hiking. I love seeing really old people hiking, I can't do that if I allow myself to get fat. I watched my relatives have a hard time getting out of a chair ...in their fifties...that will not be me.

So no I don't exercise to be a size 2 or 4 or 6....I do it to stay mobile. It is easier to run 5 to 10 miles a week every week now, then to stop and then try to be active again at 60. And running isn't enough. The older we get the more quickly we lose muscle mass. The only way not to do that is to exercise...getting old is unavoidable...being old isn't. A nice perk to exercising and eating right (besides that whole living longer thing!) is being a size 6. But when the day comes that exercise and eating the way I do now isn't enough, as long as I can move, I will be ok with being any size....because I do eat FAIRLY healthy, but I haven't given up all the pleasures in life...that Oreo Cheesecake milkshake I had after the race last night? MMMMmmmm divine! And I know it was double the amount of calories I burned running....so what!

And another thing....the reason I post at all on facebook about exercising is to try to gently remind people that it is fun....I feel great. I want everyone to feel great. I have been doing this for 5 years now....and I honestly don't believe I could have survived this hormone bullshit if I hadn't been exercising. It is a fact that it raises serotonin levels....that it what antidepressants are designed to do. (side note: chocolate does too!!). I am not bragging about running x amount of miles a week...I am hoping someone somewhere is inspired to continue if they have started or start if they haven't. I know it works because I have a facebook friend who posts all of her workouts and it holds me accountable any time I start to falter.

I must admit that since Dave has joined me, first with the DVD"s (he was quite resistant but finally came around once we moved to CA) and now with running...I have never enjoyed it more. And when I don't want to do it, he nudges me and vice versa... We average 4 half hour DVD's a week, he tries to run twice a week (2 miles) and I try to run 3 or 4 times and get to 10 total miles(much rarer than it should be!). It is a small commitment with a huge pay off! I mean, really, how much TV can you watch? You can spare 30 minutes a day 5 times a week, right? I won't lie, it totally sucks at first...but eventually it becomes a habit...something you want to do, because you KNOW how good you feel because of it. Like Nike says...JUST DO IT! You won't be sorry.

UPDATE:

Not sure why I never posted this, I just saw that it was still in draft form.
We now do 3 half hour DVD's a week and run 2.1 miles twice a week. I keep saying I am going to throw in a 3rd day by myself but it doesn't happen too often (like maybe twice).
I had gained as much as 6 lbs and I have to be honest it pissed me off and freaked me out, it's easy to SAY it isn't about being a certain weight but to be doing everything pretty much the same and gain weight was disheartening. I had some pretty intense hormonal swings (and started working 5 days a week, so maybe less time sitting around helped?) and then boom the weight just fell off. I'd still like to lose a pound or two, but that's just that damn vanity weight and more about a number than anything else, so I won't spend too much time fretting about it.

It was fun to read my marathon recap but I still just don't have the desire to put that much effort and time into doing it again. I am so glad I did one, the confidence I gained still spills over into so many things I do. To be able to accomplish a goal like that it teaches you that anything is possible if you just take it one step at a time. I still say to myself "You ran 26 miles, you can do this" and just like in all of my long runs, I tell myself "just go "x" more then you can stop" and then when I get to "x" I say "now get to the new "x" point"...baby steps til whatever task is finally done, nothing seems impossible if you break into small enough chunks!

Can I count this as a 2016 blog?? I'm still trying to get my blog post count up for the year!! :)

Christmas and religion and money

When a customer is an asshole during the rest of the year, it seems a bit more acceptable. When they are an asshole during holiday shopping season, it's kind of ironic. First of all, you have to be an idiot to think you can shop this time of year and not wait in lines and secondly step back and think about what you are shopping for....I assume the whole gift exchange started because of the wise men giving Jesus gifts. So while you are out shopping to, supposedly, celebrate the birth of your savior, you act in a very unChristian like way and don't see the irony in that??

Of course that is supposing that Christian is defined as being loving, good, caring...you know all those nice things we like to consider Christians, but, in this day and age, perhaps we need to redefine what it means to be Christian. It seems to me the loudest, most outspoken Christians are anything but that. They cherry pick what they want from the Bible and ignore what seems to be the underlying messages.

My religious background would probably be considered weak by most. My dad was raised Catholic, my mom Lutheran. We barely, if ever (I have a horrible memory when if comes to my childhood), attended church. I recall one summer bible day camp like thing where I made a clay lion, don't recall any actual bible stuff being taught. I do feel like I knew a lot about the bible, so I guess my mom must have told me. I knew all the reasons for the seasons and all of the basic bible stories-the garden of eden, noah's ark, the chick who was turned to stone. I knew some quotes --judge not lest ye be judged, do unto others, etc.

In high school I dated a guy who was Presbyterian and I was kinda into going to church with him. That's when my eyes first started being opened to the hypocrisy that seems to go hand in hand with religious folks. His mom judged the shit out of me. I felt like a heathen, which pissed me off, because how is it MY fault I didn't attend church? As a kid I'd have to rely on my parents to get me to church, so why blame me? His parents were pretty active in the church, they sang in the choir and participated in other activities, like running Sunday school class. Their pastor was relatively new to their church and they judged him too. I thought he was great, he was fairly young and full of energy, but they didn't like change. They also fell asleep...a lot...during the services. I thought it was really rude. How naive am I? To think perhaps God might find it offensive to come to his house to worship, but instead sleep...all while judging those who don't go to church...but what did a heathen like me know?

In college I met my first practicing Catholic, my freshman roommate. Another eye opening experience. She lied on her dorm app about smoking, so I was stuck with a smoking roommate and I hated the smell of smoke. She was pledging a fraternity and I walked in on her fucking her "little brother" -she threw a pillow at me and told me to go sleep in the lounge..oh did I forget to mention she had a fiance back home? I also discovered a receipt for an abortion she had...I was learning fast about hypocrisy.

At pharmacy school I started dating a Catholic. At first I really liked the idea of the Catholic church. I liked that you weren't expected to dress up, I always thought it was lunacy that God would care WHAT you wore to church, but not whether you slept through the sermon. I also liked that their sermons were all planned out in the book that was kept in the pew (I'm sure there's a name for it, but I never learned it). My boyfriend was an altar boy and also did readings some Sundays, we also walked some neighborhoods collecting envelopes full of money. His father was murdered a few years before I met him and a priest had kind of attached himself to their family. I really tried to like the guy, but the creep vibe was so strong. He showered my boyfriend with expensive gifts, that I felt were inappropriate and I could never get over the feeling that something weird was going on between his mom and the priest too. I learned more about hypocrisy from them. She judged me just as hard as my first boyfriend's mom had. She didn't know her son was a cheating womanizer, who had fucked many girls and even gotten one pregnant (another Catholic girl getting an abortion--how's that abstinence education working for ya?). (don't get me wrong, I am pro choice, but the hypocrisy of how "good" these kids are because they were raised with a church background...ughh!). His mom taught elementary school in a public school in Philadelphia, it was mostly, if not all, black students. The conversations the priest, her and my boyfriend had were appalling--the one example I remember is referring to them as cockroaches. I was not as outspoken then as am I now and had really low self esteem, that's the only reason I can think of that I wouldn't have run from such a blatantly racist person. I justified it because of his dad's murder, it was black men who robbed and murdered his dad. I also thought I would rub off on him, make him see that the actions of a few weren't reflective of all black people.

So there's my background...oh and during college, I read the bible, almost every night I would read it. I nearly finished it (skipping some psalms, they started to get really repetitive) I made it to Revelations but never quite finished it. I don't know what prompted me to want to read it, I had read The Good Book in high school and wanted to read the real deal, again I don't know why. Searching for something, I suppose.

Fast forward to having a kid. I was ok with raising him Catholic, hoping to avoid raising a hypocritical one, I realize not all religious people are judgemental assholes, preaching one thing while practicing the opposite. I separated from his Dad when he was only one, upto that point we hadn't taken him to church, other than to baptize him. After the separation, his dad met a woman who is Greek Orthodox and that is the church they went to most often. At the appropriate age, he started CCD. He never really liked it but the last year was the worst, he ended up behaving so badly that my ex let him quit just weeks before he would have been done. This really pissed the priest off and probably to my ex's relief, pretty much ended that relationship. When I spoke with my son, his reasons seemed valid. He found the church to not be accepting and noticed the hypocrisy, even at his young age. His brother and sister were being raised Greek Orthodox and when they would attend the Catholic church weren't allowed to take communion, my son was upset that they were excluded.

My current husband is agnostic. He doesn't shout that from the rooftops and I don't think my son even knew. At 15 or 16, he started having conversations with me, trying to convince me that only naive, scared people believed in God. It was a crutch to make them feel better about death. I would argue with him, but he was a damn good debater. And I have to admit, he was starting to get to me. With all of my prior experience with those who consider themselves religious and with watching the news and the many stories of people discriminating in God's name, I started to question what I believed. I think he doesn't even consider himself agnostic, which bothers me a bit. At least my husband says "Give me proof and I will believe". My son is so confident that there is nothing to believe in. I still believe in something greater. But I don't define it anymore. I think the bible is a story, not much different than a greek myth. I believe there is something after death and I believe that the creator is a loving entity who will forgive those who don't believe. I believe he may even forgive those who do but don't practice what they preach. I'd like to believe that as long as you have a good heart that that matters more than what church you attend.

It's because of this I have a hard time even participating in Christmas anymore. Even the people who wholeheartedly participate don't do it for the right reasons. I think we have all been scammed by greedy corporations. They are the ones with everything to gain by commercializing the hell out of the holiday and everyone has fallen in line. People like to think that others are blinded along party lines, believing their candidate can do no wrong and meanwhile the corporations are blinding us all, democrats, republicans, 3rd party groups....we all fall in line to throw our money at things we don't need or want, to buy things for people, not caring if they want or need it...and we all end up with houses full of crap and maxed out credit cards while the corporations laugh and count their billions.

When you see someone being an asshole because they had to wait 10 minutes or 30 minutes in line to buy crap for someone who probably doesn't even want the crap or yelling at a sales person because we don't have any more of the crap left to sell...just think about God and what he thinks about how we are celebrating the birth of his son...or think about the creator who may not even have sent a son watching us act like animals, instead of just loving the lives we have and celebrating the friends and family we share it with...and then think about the 1%'ers laughing at how fucking stupid we are all, giving up Thanksgiving with our families so we can sell shit to people for a percent less than we would the following week, giving up our hard earned money to buy stuff we don't need or want, while they fly on their big ass planes to their big ass third homes to celebrate with shit they don't need, being assholes to the people who made it all possible for them to be 1%ers.

I know I sound bitter, I am not. It just saddens me to watch the hordes of people so completely brainwashed do this year after year, not ever questioning why they do it. Acting like I am the freak because I don't do it. If you step back and watch the madness, it can actually be kind of funny.


This year, with me working full time, I thought it would be nice to go back to exchanging presents with my hubby. The past few years we have been getting each other silly little things, not spending more than 50 bucks. I have been wracking my brain trying to think of something I want. But, the truth is, I have everything. Everything I need and everything I want. It's a simple realization that makes Christmas all the more enjoyable for me. To me Christmas is becoming another Thanksgiving, a time to realize how much I have and be thankful. It is nice to have a decorated tree to look at, so I will enjoy the holiday as a time to see beauty in lights and decorations. I hope you enjoy your Christmas in whatever way celebrating it makes it merry for you.....oh and cookies...Christmas will never be Christmas without cookies!! Merry Christmas everyone!!

Really random blog

Just checked in on some stats...and noticed I blogged 20 something blogs each of the first 2 years, dropped down to only 13 in 2015 and this year I am at a measly 8!!!! WTF???

I certainly have enough to say...I spend a lot (like wayyyyy too much) time "writing" blogs in my head when I can't sleep at night. Which is still better than playing Candy Crush, I suppose...(been playing 3 1/2 years and I'm on level 2048 (yes, that is two thousand plus levels!!!) (for the record I only spent about 10 bucks the first year and not a dime since--c'mon you know I am too cheap to piss money away on fake candy!!) Truth be told, I'd rather play Candy Crush, because "writing blogs in my head" keeps me up longer, eventually Candy Crush (and Solitaire, those 5 lives don't last forever you know!!) will make me drowsy enough to sleep.

If only I could come up with a way to write silently in bed....tapping on the keyboard would certainly annoy Dave...and I am not getting out of my cozy bed to go write somewhere else. Do you know how many awesome poems I have written, to only be forgotten in the morning??? (I used to keep a notepad near the bed for that purpose, but as with many of my interests, poetry writing has dwindled off in the past few years (I blame that on my happiness, I was always more poetic when suicidal or depressed)

Anyway, usually, when I "write" these never to be seen blogs in my head, it resolves the issues enough that I don't have the desire to dwell on whatever it was long enough to write a blog...this is great news, as I used to own the title of Longest Dweller on Meaningless, Insignificant Shit. I have surrendered that title and yet still manage to hold the title of Most Likely to Overthink Things Past the Point that a Reasonable Overthinker even thinks is possible...I feel like I should have thrown some more capitals in there, but I won't overthink it...(I find myself hysterical, even if the hubby tells me I am not nearly as funny as I think I am----random fact, a coworker once told me there was a rumor that I used to be a stand up comedian...I laughed and laughed...even I know I am not THAT funny!)

So, it's November, and realistically there is no way I am going to keep blogging the next few weeks...it's friggin' holiday season! Shit is about to get insane at work and haven't you heard?? I am a low level supervisor now...more hours, more responsibility (I suppose in reality there IS, but after working at a job where people's lives were at stake, it's hard to consider keeping a fitting room clean a responsibility (and I mean no disrespect to my coworkers, some of whom do get stressed out). I just hit my 3 year anniversary mark, which is huge for me, because in all my years of pharmacy, I never made it that long without seeking a new job. (Granted at Drug Emporium, I lasted 12 years (they went bankrupt, so even then I didn't leave) but I did annoy my bosses with threats of leaving, which often got me more money, better schedule and often a different store, which lessened my nomadic need to move on). After Drug Emporium, I never made it 3 years anywhere! Now, I am not fooling myself, I have considered leaving this job, but not because I didn't like it, just considering things tha I might like more....I have applied (TWICE!) to be a library aide (a longtime interest I have had) but didn't even get an interview either time and I pursued a position with a marijuana dispensary (I was really on the fence about whether it would feel to much like pharmacy, but alas I never heard from the owner and she opened her store around the time of my promotion, I had considered doing both part time, til I figured out if it was for me, but now I work 5 days a week, so I guess that's out)

I think I may use parentheses too much...randomness shouldn't require parentheses, right? It should just be run on sentences and incongruent (is that the word I want?) paragraphs. I feel like, though I don't spend much thought on punctuation and grammar, perhaps, I still spend too much thought on it, but then I could just be overthinking things again....can you tell I am bored?? I mean seriously what the hell am I even blogging about....and why not spend this time writing my zombie/alien apocalyptic love story, instead of this rambling shit??

Are you still here?

I will tell you why I am blogging tonight....A) the hubby is working B) I am OCD with numbers, competitive with myself...I can't stand that the number of blogs for this year is so low! It's not bad enough that I only run twice a week, just over 4 miles total...now I don't write either...or draw...or play the piano...or go to the shelter to volunteer....what the hell DO I DO?? Well, that is why I accepted the promotion...I felt like I was starting to sink into a pit of laziness, sitting around with too much time and too many choices...but, hey...I am on level 2048!!...where was I? Oh C) writing the book would be a good idea...but it is just too overwhelming...I don't like big tasks, I ask Dave to help me with it, he loves to write...I wanted to tell him the story and have him write it...but he won't cooperate.

So the plan is to write a blog about fostering next....this is our second year doing it...oh it's kittens...you didn't think I meant kids, did you?? Do you know me at all?? Any way...we have been doing it for 6 and 1/2 months straight (since April)....so I think I have a bit I could write about it, but now I am worn out...ok not really...just bored....see why I can't write a whole damn book???? and Dave should be home pretty soon....

Thanks for hanging in there....remember I never made any promises that this blog would ever be anything more than random....

(PS Trump is still the scariest man to ever run for President...he is scarier than this season of American Horror Story and that has caused me at least 2 nightmares!!)

(I wrote that so that I could lose any readers who may some day end up offended by something I write...better you get offended now, God knows what I might say later---especially if Cheeto Hitler gets elected...or if he doesn't and he and his followers don't go "quietly into the night")