Wednesday, September 19, 2012

In need of a good laugh? Well, you've come to the right place....

I've got 3 words for you....Facebook Status Updates.

Need I say more??


Just now, Landon demanded that Garrett go upstairs and get him his pillow.

Garrett:  Uh, dude...unless you just deposited a check into my account, I don't work for you.  Get it yourself.

Landon:  (marches upstairs to get his own pillow)

Garrett:  Hey Mommy, I just said to Landon what you always say to us and it worked!

Not sure if I should be proud of this moment or not but I simply can't help beaming with pride right now.

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Mom Fail #3,102..... 

I told Garrett and Landon this morning that I would have their heads on plates if they woke Cole up this morning. 

So then, I go to the let the cats outside and....bam.....set off the burglar alarm. 

Cole comes downstairs all sleepy-eyed and says, "The alarm woke me up." 

Garrett says, "Good going, Mommy". 

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I just had the following conversation with Bella: 

Bella - Mommy, what does IDK stand for?
Me: I don't know 
Bella: No, IDK!! 
Me: I don't know!
Bella: No, what does it stand for?
Me: I'm telling you, I don't know!
Bella: How come you know what LOL stands for but IDK?
Me: I do, it's I don't know.
Bella: No, you just said you don't know. 
Me: For the love of God!! I - DON'T - KNOW. That's what IDK stands for...I don't know. 
Bella: Gosh, you don't have to get all mad about it. 

 I'm so glad God blessed me with a sense of humor because it's moments like this one that makes me want to pierce my eardrums with a toothpick.

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This is what Garrett said to me today: 

"Mommy, it was fun when I was in your belly for those 17 years but, next time, I think I want to be in Daddy's belly because he eats junk food and drinks soda." 

Pregnant for 17 years? In Daddy's belly next time? 

What planet is this kid from? 

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OMG!!! 

Bella just asked me, "Mommy, back in the olden days, when you were alive, was there a such thing as color?" 

Seriously, how old does she think I am?! 

(this status prompted one of the funniest comments from Karen..."Sounds like she doesn't think you're old. She thinks you're dead.")


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Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Pouring My Heart Out...The Scars Remind Me That I am a Survivor



**  Before you read this post, I just want to put a warning out there that this is about self-inury.  It includes details that some may find disturbing.

The massage therapist frowned as she touched the 4 dark, yet smooth, scars along the inside of my left forearm.

"Got a cat?" she inquired.

"Uh, yeah....three cats," I answered.

She smiled.  "Looks like one of them has quite a mean streak."

A brief wave of shame crept over me as a mental image formed in my brain...the image of me sitting on the edge of the bathtub on a cold, blustery day last December with a small paring knife in my hand, while the kids were downstairs yelling at one another.

"It's my turn to choose the next Wii game," one shouted.

Another one shrieked, "NO!  You already chose one!  I'm telling....Moooommmy, Mooooommmmmyyyyyy!!!"

The only thought in my head was, "Make it stop, dammit.  Do something to make it stop".

And that's when I did it.

I pierced the sharp blade of the knife into the skin on my forearm and watched in silence as a thin stream of blood seeped out.

With a sigh of relief, I focused on the delicious combination of pain and release.  A euphoric feeling pulsed through my veins, as I continued to cut again....and again....and again.  I imagine it would be the same type of high a drug addict feels immediately after shooting up.

All the stress, chaos and negativity flows directly out of me and I'm left with a numb sensation for only a few minutes.

I crave that detachment at the most desperate of times, like when my head is cloudy and I can't think straight.  Or when I'm on overload and feel like I may crumble into a million pieces if just one more person needs something from me.

I simply want to be free from any emotions.  I don't want to hurt any more.

Yes, I realize that seems like an oxymoron.  I don't want to hurt any more so I cut myself.  It's a strange and mind-boggling coping mechanism.  I get it.  And I don't expect others to understand, unless they've been through it themselves.

Most of my scars are in places which are hidden, where no one else but me can see them.

To this day, I can't explain why I chose my forearm to cut myself....a site that is so easily visible to the world.

However, this was the very last time I self-injured.  Almost 10 months ago.

I like to believe it was my inner conscience pleading with me, "This isn't healthy.  You need to stop hiding and ask for help."

December 12.  That was the day I reached out for help, in the form of a despondent tweet to a fellow blogger whom I adore.

"Hi, Kim.  Are you there?"

And she was.

I also sought the help of a new psychiatrist, to whom I came clean about my unhealthy means of coping with the stress in my life.

You might wonder how a post like this with such graphic detail wouldn't cause a relapse.

You see, the scars on my arm remind me that I'm a survivor.  I'm resilient and so much stronger than I give myself credit for.  I can be in the depths of hell and still claw my way to the top, to enjoy the sunlight on my face.

Now, I find healthy ways to deal with my stress.  I take a few minutes to myself and take deep breaths.  I work out almost every single day, reveling in the positive focus and energy that exercise provides for me.  And I remind myself that nothing is so bad that I can't deal with it, just like every other normal person on this earth.

Oh, it's not easy.  It's definitely not an easy task to focus on more wholesome forms of coping  But all I have to do is look down at my arm, at these four scars, and remind myself that I can do this.  Life is full of ups and downs...that's just the way it is.

There is no reason for me to hide anymore.  There is no reason to lie about it any longer.

I don't need to feel ashamed.

"Well, truth be told," I said to the massage therapist, who was now working her magic on my shoulders, "I used to cut myself."

She was quiet for a moment and then responded, "I've never told anyone else this but I used to do the same thing when I was younger."

"I use to feel such shame and disappointment in myself," she admitted.  "But now, it seems like it was so long ago, know what I mean?"

"Yes," I answered.  "It certainly does seem like a long time ago....another lifetime, in fact."


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I figure that if the children are alive when my husband gets home at the end of the day, I've done my job.

----Roseanne Barr



 
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