The Holidays, Elastic Hearts, Doable Resolutions & Love

It's 12/21/17.  Four more days until Christmas.  Eleven more days until New Year's Eve.

This time last year, I had just lost my mother.  I had also given my heart away.  It was decent.  This year, mom has been gone a year, my heart got cracked a bit, but I am also leaving my house more.  I would say that things are a little better.

Hearts are pretty elastic, you know?  So they tend to kind of stretch and shrink as needed.  Which is helpful in so many ways.  Sometimes it's hard to remember - but when I do, I feel much better.  I mean, I'm pretty goddamned awesome.  I am honest, about my feelings and in general; I am more open than you would probably think (about more things than you would probably think); I give a lot and expect little in return.  These are good things.  It makes for a big stretchy heart.

I had the privilege of  having Barbara Lynn Therese Gerke Longamore as my mother.  She taught me about love, the giving of it and the receiving.  She taught me about the joy of holidays - which I am trying to bring back into my heart.  One step at a time.  She taught me about the importance of family.  She taught me about the importance of always learning, being able to admit you are wrong, and that sometimes you just need a drink and some quiet.

I am going tomorrow with some friends to learn a little bit about blacksmithing - which is something I have always wanted to do.  No time like the present, right?

I was going to go out of town for New Years Eve, but I think instead I'll stay close - try to find something to do locally.  With people even!  I hate those dumb ass resolutions people talk about - like losing weight, suddenly eating healthy, etc.  I am going to work on real resolutions that are good for me - let's hope this list is doable:

I am going to take myself out.  Dinner and a movie is not something only reserved for couples or groups of friends.

I am going to continue my quest for learning.  If I want to learn it - I will do whatever I can to make that happen.  It doesn't matter how silly anyone else thinks the endeavor is.

I am going to keep reminding myself that hearts are stretchy, and rarely static.

I am going to do more with the people I care about.

I am going to continue with my Krav classes.

I am going to plan the trips I want to take so they actually *happen*.  Traveling is another thing that is not only reserved for couples or groups of friends.  I am fully capable of traveling on my own.

I am going to strive to celebrate all the holidays next year with the same fervor I did when Mom was alive.

Merry Christmas, Happy Yule, Happy Holidays - and Happy New Year.

I love all of you - without explanation, fear, or regret  <3

Ran out of good sounding titles. Go me.

This time last year, I feel like I was doing a bit better.  At least in regards to grief, and handling the holidays with Mom gone. 

I just realized that I *wasn't* doing better last year... I was just fucking numb because she had died just three short months before hand.  Which kinda makes this like the first holiday with her gone, if that makes any sense.

Things still don't feel "right" - and they won't.  It is way more difficult to accustom yourself a new "right" than you might think.  Some of it is easier now.  Some of it isn't.

I would be OK with boycotting the holiday this year.  That however, isn't an option.  Joey will make it tolerable.  Since he's almost two he gets super excited over the lights - and I think he'll love unwrapping presents; that will be fun to watch and be a part of.

CBD oil is supposed to be here by Saturday (ha, we shall see) so that's a plus.  Shin guards have been ordered for class - because it remains one of the few things that helps me keep my balance (mentally) and padding is good.

On the upside - one of my sisters is moving to Maryland - so I have some place awesome to drive to in the Spring!

Snow Craziness, Anxiety, and Nature's Finest

We just recently had a shit ton of snow. Well, a shit ton for Georgia.  About twelve inches worth - which was enough to jack up everything, cause power to be lost, etc.  Being stuck in the house with people (family or no) was lots of fun for my anxiety!  No, really.  We survived though - lots of sleep, lots of blankets, and waiting not so patiently for the power to come back on.

My aunt recently suggested that I try CBD oil for my anxiety/insomnia issues.  She has used it since she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and her husband uses it for his insomnia.  It's not something I had considered before - not for any specific reason, I just hadn't thought about it.  I mean, I smoked A LOT of pot when I was younger. A lot. I guess I just didn't pay attention to anything having to do with cannabis that wasn't getting me high. Go figure.

I was also pretty chill when I smoked.  Hrm....  Kidding!  I'd just sleep non-stop.  Depression helps me with that as it is (although never at night, when I need it - stupid brain).  Anywho - so because I had little to no knowledge about CBD oil and how it could possibly help me, I did what I do.  I asked questions.  I pestered people I knew.  I researched.  I read ALL the things. Found medical studies that were published.  Then I asked more questions.  *shrug*  From everything I'm reading it could be pretty helpful.  It would be really nice to not have to pay a pharmacy an exorbitant amount of money every month just to keep my brain under control.  There are ten thousand companies, and brands out there.  Some are stupidly expensive - some are ridiculously cheap.  It's like anything else I suppose.

I went ahead and ordered a tincture, along with some free gelcaps to try - from the company my aunt uses.  Nothing elaborate.  Now - I just wait for it to get here.  I'm kinda excited!  *fingers crossed*  I might be able to go out and DO things - or not be on the verge of a panic attack while at class - or go to sleep at a normal hour and sleep the whole night all the way through!!

It's a Christmas miracle!!  ;)

Brain Gremlins Be Damned

Anxiety, especially social anxiety, is a bitch. I had an "omgimfatandslowandterrible" moment in class tonight. Just a moment.

I kept going though, which is the important part. In fact, that's fucking HUGE.  Yet, I cried the whole ride home, and while I was cleaning up. Why?? Brain Gremlins. Logically, I know I did good. Illogically, I keep repeating that falter in my head. That snowballs into a repeat of EVERY fuck up (Or perceived fuck up) that I've had this week, this month, etc.

Motherfucking Brain Gremlins.

I hate them.  So much. Can't let them win though, so here I am giving them the finger!!

Yep. I just metaphorically flipped off my own brain. Just roll with it.

Gimme some damn drugs!! Also, all hail Hypnos, Somnos, and the Zorya - please?

Yay!  I survived Thanksgiving!  In all seriousness, it was actually nice to not be at home.  Though, the drive was some bullshit.  Now, I'm just trying to get back in my regular groove.

I made the choice to cancel my health insurance about a month ago.  It was already close to the end of the year, it was stupidly expensive for nothing, and I had an alternative to getting my psych meds - easy peasy. 

Oooh.  That sounds interesting "psych meds".  I'm not *that* crazy though.  Just your every day(ish) type crazy.

Anywho.  Fast forward.  I have not yet been able to get to said alternative.  I have run out of three of the four meds that I typically take.  One of them has been gone for a while because it's so expensive, so really it's just two I guess.  One of them I took every night to help me sleep.  My insomnia is directly linked to my anxiety.  Brain won't turn off = no sleeps.  Out of that one.  I figured, no big deal - I can just take my benadryl, and pass the fuck out.

Except no, no - that's not actually how that will work!  Instead, I take my benadryl and my anxiety manages to completely override it.  To the point that for two nights now, I've been up at 2 or 3 am.  Wide awake.  WIDE. AWAKE.  widemotherfuckingawake.

Have I ever mentioned that I am the type of person who needs to get her full nights sleep?  Or else I become quite the bitchy bitch?  No?  Well, there you go.

So here I am.  Thursday.  I've had maybe 8 hours of sleep in the last 48.  There are still five more hours to get through for the work day, then I have an hour drive home to survive.  I'm supposed to have class tonight.  When I get home - if I have that feeling, the one you get when you know you're going to be up no matter what you do - I'll get ready and go.  If I get home, and think I can actually manage to sleep - well, for my safety and yours, that will be happening.

I am also irritated that it is turning into quite the goddamned ordeal to get my medication at all.  I mean, I'm not taking any fucking narcotics - nothing that is seriously "controlled" - so there shouldn't be an issue.  Thanks pharmaceutical companies - I hope your CEO's all get sand fleas in their underwear, two flat tires, and a difficult to diagnose rash.  Assholes.

Cogito Ergo Sum, Bring the Hip-Waders - Bullshit for Days

Hello, holiday anxiety - I have missed you so.

You would think that because I have this forum with which to express myself, said expression would be easier.  It is not.  It's a ruse.  I still stop and think "What if so and so reads it? Huh, maybe I shouldn't say that because X will not like it".  I am terrible at censoring myself.  I also hate censoring myself.

I understand that sometimes it is necessary in polite society to think about others before you speak.  I also understand that if you constantly stop yourself from speaking, eventually you will explode.  Normal people are capable of finding the middle ground.  Sadly - I'm not particularly normal.

A lot of the emotions that people deal with on a daily basis are the result of their interactions with other people.  It isn't necessary really, to go into the why of a thing, is it?  It is entirely possible to simply let a thing be.  I can say that I feel very lonely right now - without giving any sort of context, and that's fine.  It is its own thing.  I am lonely.  The why doesn't matter in the great scheme of things - except as a means for someone who is NOT you, to prod at your life.  Sometimes my emotions are the result of my brain preparing to handle future interactions.  I am anxious.  That is its own thing as well - and requires no context.

I wish it was possible to live life with no context, or no explanation.  People say it's possible.  That's a lie.

I am lonely.
I am anxious.
I am depressed.
I am cautiously optimistic.
I am dissatisfied.
I dislike the holidays.
I am angry.
I want to scream.
I want to cry.
I want to hit, until I can't breathe.
I am happy.
I want to be held.
I want no one to touch me.
I am happy.
I miss a person.
I miss a thing.
I have no patience.
I love.
I love her.
I love him.
I love them.
I love it.
I hate him, and her, and them.
I am tired, and apathetic.
I
I
I
I

All of those things are true - all of them.  Their context is only available within me.  There is some power to that I guess.  When you read them though, and think of me, you want to understand or know - and that's a human response.  I don't have to share though.  Ever.

When you read them, and think of you, then it changes things.  Those are your secret truths, with their context only inside of you.  Makes things very different doesn't it?  Makes you understand why a person would not want to share.  Every person has felt every one of those things.  Even if you won't admit it out loud - it's happened.  Own it.  Own it without explanation.

Especially with the holidays here.  Just fucking be whatever it is you are.  No one is happy all the damn time - just as no one is genuinely miserable all the damn time.  Trying to convince the world otherwise has to be exhausting.

Noodle Arms, Carpe Noctem, and Decorative Fucking Gourds.

I decided to let my family come to the most recent belt ceremony.  It went surprisingly well.  We did our thing, looked pretty good for the demo, and went back to regular classes last night.

Today?  My arms are noodles.  It's awesome!!  I declared I hated running, so Mr. SuperBeast decided to up the ante as Instructor was out.  I mean, of course it's going to suck when it's happening.  But - sorry not sorry guys.  Even if I have to get mad at myself, and I screw up a lot, I have to admit that I like working hard to get there.

I'm beginning to get better adjusted to the time change.  This is my time of year guys.  The first few days suck - but after that?  BRING ON THE NIGHT MOTHERFUCKERS!!  I have so much more energy, and... oomph I guess, in the fall and winter.

No.  Really.  It'll kick in any moment now.

I would like it a bit better if it wasn't almost 80 outside.  But hey - global warming isn't real, and the internet is made of a series of tubes.

Not looking forward to the holidays much - for obvious reasons.  It will be holiday season number two without Mom.  Goddammit.

I am currently contemplating whether or not I want to send out cards.  It's kind of a huge undertaking.  I mean, I like to get *awesome* cards - and they aren't cheap, and then stamps, and remembering to put them in the mail box.  I think the list of people that I actually like a lot has shrunk since last year too - I'll have to ponder it.  So who knows.  You might get a card.  If you do - be happy, because I obviously like you.  A lot.

Happy Decorative Fucking Gourd Season.

Chubby Girls DO Cuddle Better, Asshole Monkeys, and a Splash of Killin' It

This week has been testing week in Krav.  I completed, and passed, my test last night (woohoo!!!) so I am now a yellow belt two, or yellow with a black stripe, whatevs - closer and closer to getting better and better.  It was fun, it was hard, it was awesome.  It's nerve wracking for me - because I'm always afraid I'm going to fail, and I'm always afraid some of my class mates are going "easy" on me because I'm the fat girl.  I know that's not logical, so shut it - I get that.  Doesn't change the brain though, now does it?

This morning though, I saw on the social media page of Mini-Instructor a video titled "Lose Some Weight" (Found Here).  I watched it.  Turned the speakers on my computer here at work.  Dude.  That's a whole lot of truth packed into roughly five minutes. A LOT.  And yeah, those things do happen - being mocked at the gym, or if you are outside walking or running - hell it even happens at restaurants.  I never understood that - aside from being extremely hurtful, why would you be rude to someone who is obviously trying to better themselves?  I'm pretty confident - MOST of the time - but there are lots of little times where I just want to flop on the couch in my work out clothes, because going to the track to have a bunch of skinny folks watch me huff and puff doesn't sound fun.

The best part about this video though, is something that it took me a little while to figure out.  Perspective is everything.  Oh hell, I'm not perfect - I still get wonky, but I have changed and am changing my perspective on a lot of things.  The rude people on social media who make comments assuming you just sit on your ass all day?  Not my monkeys.  The rude people who give out smug looks at the gym?  Not my fucking monkeys.  The skinny people at the track who haven't broken a sweat and aren't breathing hard, and giggle as I go by?  STILL not my goddamned monkeys.  

They only matter as much as I let them.  

Being part of a collective class, as I have been for the past several months, has helped too.  We all want each other to succeed - to do the best that each person can do, and then beat that goal to hell and back.  Some of us are chubby (but adorable), some of us are more skilled than others, some are really young, some are older - but it really is like a little family.  When the girl in that video went to the pool party, and finally got in?  She realized that was her little family.  They weren't judging her.

So for my chubby chicks who struggle as much, more, or a little less than I do - any time you see a hater yell at them angrily, "YOU'RE NOT MY FUCKING MONKEY ASSHOLE!"

Kidding - that might be a bit much.  You can imagine it though. Not your circus, not your monkeys.  They mean nothing. Less than nothing.  They are the trash on the bottom of your beat to hell sneakers.  Do what you do.  Run if you want to.  Although, really - I don't understand running for no purpose.  But hey - be crazy!  

Me, too; Double Down; Raise 'em Right

You want to know what one of the most difficult things for me to do is?  Edit myself.  Censure myself.  Unfortunately, I feel like I have to do a lot of that.  I don't post truly personal things on my various social media accounts - and I don't feel as though I can go into detail here either because my life intersects with others.  It's frustrating beyond belief.

I will say this - a couple of weeks ago, I saw an end to something that I thought would last longer.  That's never a fun time.  In fact, it is still in the process of sucking.  But hey - for once, I didn't fuck things up!  That's all I will say about that.

         ------------------   OH NOES SHE'S GOING ON A RANT NOW  ---------------

I spend a lot of time in my head - as I've mentioned many times in the past.  I realized a couple things.  Wait - no, I did not.  These are things that I have always known, and or seen, and just haven't spoken about.

Trending all over social media right now is "Me, too".  Something women post to show that sexual harassment and sexual assault are far more prevalent than people like to think.  It's a fantastic idea - in theory.  Bear with me - and lets zoom out for a minute.

John F. Smith is a man in his mid to late thirties - he has an ex-wife, as well as two daughters.  He regularly jokes around in the "boys will be boys" manner that is damn near second nature to him.  Commenting among his friends on the looks of the waitress, or talking about how crazy his last girlfriend was, etc.  Nothing too terrible - obnoxious sure, but mostly overlooked by society at large.  When he's with his girls though, it's a different tune.  He wants them to be strong, intelligent, self-sufficient and independent.  He wants to make sure that his babies know how to take care of themselves, so they won't ever be taken advantage of. HIS daughter will not be treated that way!

GODDAMN IT - YOU CAN'T HAVE IT BOTH WAYS

Is it really any wonder that we have an entire society of women who base their worth on the way they look, or how they behave in a relationship?  Sure - Dad wants you to do X, Y, and Z - but those things don't match what you've seen him do in his own relationships.  Those things don't match what the magazines, news papers, movies and television are telling you.  Actions all around you have shown that if you want to find love, happiness, and security - you can only do that while being beautiful, kind of helpless, and dumbing yourself down.

Strong?  She's a bitch.  She's stubborn.  She think's she's something she isn't.
Intelligent?  She's a bitch.  Good thing she's smart, she's not pretty.  Etc.
Self-sufficient?  She's a bitch.  She's probably gay.  Couldn't catch a man if she wanted to.
Independent?  She's a bitch.  She's probably gay.  She's trying to act like a man.  Dumb feminist.

So.. yeah.  I did, I hopped on that "Me, too" bandwagon because I have been sexually harassed, and it's a very honest thing.  I just wish there was more to it than just a social media trend.  All these wonderful women I know that are screaming either loudly, or internally "ME, TOO" and... that's it.  You're probably wondering, "What the hell does she want us to do??"

I don't know.  *shrug*  I really don't fucking know.  Perhaps call out your men (whether they be fathers, brothers, husbands, etc) whenever you see the dichotomy - especially if you have children?  Call out *yourself* if you suddenly realized that you have also shown your daughter, or nieces, that their worth is based on more than what's beneath their skin?  Because, I repeat - you can't have it both ways. 

I don't mean to belittle the voice that a lot of women have discovered with this trend.  I think it's beautiful.  I just also think that since we're all being so brave RIGHT NOW, we should continue that on - past the social media trend, into real life.  Make sure your little girls get a different set of guidelines - and make sure your little boys do too.  Then maybe in the next couple of generations there won't be a need for "Me, too".

Mirror Mirror on the wall - who has the craziest brain of all?

Starting things is difficult.  Ending things is difficult.  We are only really comfortable in the middle of our own stories - where we have the nostalgia of the past to comfort us, and the possibility of the future to keep us from feeling as though we are going nowhere.

It's bullshit though.  You know that, right?  Nothing you do will make the past the present - and the future's possibilities will remain just that if you don't do something NOW.

I might have to go live in a van down by the river - then get paid money to make that little couple sentence speech.  But I digress - as usual.

Obviously I survived the aftermath of the anniversary of mom's death.  I then further survived their wedding anniversary, which was on 9/16.  I can't say I survived it with any real grace - but I didn't stab anyone, so there's that.  My Instructor keeps telling me stabbing should be a last resort - I'm not entirely sure I agree with her, but it seems to be sticking a little bit.

I've had a case of the blues.  You know what - fuck that.  I remember doing a whole post about how we fall back on euphemisms because *saying* things makes people uncomfortable.  And I just did it again!!  REDO.

I have been ridiculously depressed and insecure for the past month or so.  Could it be that one year anniversary?  Sure.  Could it be their wedding anniversary, and watching my father slowly fall apart?  Sure.  Could it be that I already fucking despise the Summer - and here we are 9/29 and it's STILL goddamned 90 degrees out?  Sure!  All of the above!  Why not?

I am also however, painfully self aware.  I know it's illogical. I see that it's crazy.  Doesn't change anything.  I've been avoiding mirrors.  Because I'll feel fine, but then see myself in the mirror and cringe, thinking "I can't believe you left your cave beastlet, go back to the dark!!"  Of course, it is while my brain is rebelling against me that I *must* be in the front row in front of the HUGE mirrors in the studio for class.  Of course.

Hey, is anyone up there in the sky?  Maybe?  Fuck you.  Seriously though - fuck you.

I have had to hide the scale in my house. Well - technically, *I* couldn't hide it.  I had to have someone else hide it.  Right?  Because apparently I'm currently a moody 16 year old.  Stand back - I need to tuck my crazy back in for a sec.

It's not an every day thing.  I don't walk around hating myself.  I really don't.  If I did - I would totally admit it, especially here.  I promised myself I would be honest here. I mean, I'm always honest - but fuck it, you know what I mean.  It's just been  several weeks on a very rocky road - probably caused by a culmination of all of those things that caused me to just be... not OK.  And it hasn't completely gone yet.  I mean, little bits, here and there - but that's it. Off and on, up and down.  So please - no pity party stuff, yeah?

I am rather proud of myself though, because I have essentially told my brain it can fuck RIGHT off, and have pushed myself to class regardless.  And work - because you know, my creditors like to be paid.

Here's to continuing to get off my ass, making class, cussing out myself like a crazy lady, and attempting to chill the fuck out.

Wine.  I need wine.  

Tilt the scales and call it a win

Positive things:

Played lots of Skyrim this weekend.  Yeah, that's positive.  Finally started a Kahjiit character, I've always wanted a tail - 🤓

Watched my nephew. (Cutest nephew ever)

It's only in the 70's outside today (Mother nature, you fickle bitch you)

I have the most awesome dog and cat in the world (They are definitely better than yours, so shut it)

I have awesome people

I have an excellent Person.

I have an amazing BFF.

I have THE BEST teammates at class. (Teammates... seems off, but whatevs, I needed a word for everyone) 

I have some excellent family.

Negative things:

Tomorrow. 

I want to sleep for forty five days.

I also want to eat an entire strawberry funfetti cake - while sleeping for 45 days.

I am being super sensitive about stupid shit.

Progress.  Positive is longer than negative.  

Suck it up, Buttercup - Research rabbit holes, and counting down

Been a minute. Not even going to apologize.  Shit happens.  In this case - a lot of shit happened.

In different recent news, I applaud the folks that I deal with on a daily basis who were understanding during the brief time that I didn't have one of my medications.  Seriously - if I baked, I'd bake you cookies.  I don't though, so... thanks?

The good part of that happening is that I now know which ones I can afford (health wise) to skip if I can't afford them money-wise.  Handy. Yeah, fuck you insurance companies.  Also, fuck you pharmaceutical companies.  And fuck you lobbyists.  I think I'm done with that one.

This month sucks.  Bad.  The only good things in this month are the birthdays of two important people to me.  That's it.  I have gone to class.  I have gone to work.  I have smiled and nodded to a lot of people.  I've told everyone, "I'm fine, thanks".  I have attempted to submerge myself in books, news, crafts, gaming - seriously, you name it, I did it.  I have rabbit hole researched the strangest things - I found the CIA library, I learned more about Jeffrey Dahmer, and then I researched weird laws still on the books.  Oh!  And lots of cults, TI's and MK Ultra.  I'm reading Half Broke Horses - which is awesome.  I'm alternating between constant character creation on Skyrim, and like.. four other games.  I'm keeping up with what's going on in the country (we're fucked) and what's going on in the world (yep, we're fucked).

All of this in an attempt to behave as though I am not silently counting down the days to the anniversary of mom's death.  Today is 8/23/17.  It's 2:03 pm.  I have 6 days, 3 hours and 54 minutes to go.  It does't feel like it's been a year.

We're all a little touchy. I don't have much patience when I feel fabulous, so I really have none now - and I don't care.  I mean, seriously - I do not care.  Don't care if I hurt your feelings.  Don't care if you are offended by the way I'm attempting to cope.  Don't care if you agree with me.  Don't care if you don't agree with me. I am swimming in a large warm pool of apathy and anger.  At least right now. Please don't poke the bear - and please don't decide you hate me until after the 29th, ok?

Gimme a couple hours, it'll change.  Kinda like the weather.

I think I may go camp the weekend after.  Drink entirely too much booze in the woods, be sweaty, sleep. Sing loudly and badly because I can.  Yeah.

Belt Ceremony and Summertime Blues

*Wince*  Almost a month - whoops.  Sorry guys.

In the last post, I got all sappy over the way the people I'm in class with have impacted my life.  I had just completed my belt test.  All is gravy.

On July 1st, 2017, I (with the rest of my class) did a demonstration and received my belt and certificate.  I didn't choke.  I didn't NOT go (I thought about it though), and I didn't suck.  Which was freaking amazing.  I got some encouraging messages from my BFF (who was there) and from my Person (who was not there) and it was great!

It's currently July 21st, 2017.  I know, I'm slacking.  But.. it's the Summer.  Which means...

SUMMERTIME BLUES, BABY!!

Seriously.  Summer is my depression time.  I mean, it's obviously better than it would be if I wasn't medicated.  But it's hard to force myself to do things.  I am literally forcing myself to go to class twice a week.  And honestly?  Some weeks I'm not doing the forcing - I have to have the BFF or the Person guilt me into going.  (If you don't believe this is a thing, go research)

Plus side to Summer:

-_-  None?


Down side to Summer:

Hot
Too damn bright
Hot
Too damn bright - repeat.

I'm also coming up on the one year anniversary of mom's death.  It will be 8/29/17.  So I'm fairly sure life is going to suck for a little while.

I am promising myself though to DO MY BEST to move, and to haul my ass to class through the heat, the light, the blues, and the suck.  If you get a text from me, or an FB message whining about not wanting to go - talk me out of it.  I need that sometimes.

Burning off the Insanity, Taking Freedom, and Becoming

I did the thing.  Yep.  Did it.  I went to Krav on Tuesday, and I completed my belt test.  I didn't fail - and I didn't give up.  I mean, I will only be a lowly level one yellow - but you know what?  That's a BIG deal on this side of things.

I've always been a big girl.  Well - at least since puberty anyway.  That combined with extreme social anxiety, my issues with spaces, and all the rest of my crazy little quirks is kind of a recipe for disaster.  When Mom was sick, I didn't have to push myself too much because I *needed* to be at home.  It wasn't an excuse, or a justification, it just was the way it was.

Now, by that same token - I've also always had pretty good self-esteem.  This may seem backwards, but what the hell else is new with my brain?  I think I'm pretty.  I think I'm awesome. I think I'm pretty damned awesome.  I'm pretty damned awesome, and I like to be tucked into my hidey hole where I can be pretty, awesome, and pretty damned awesome, all on my own.  So the kicker was pushing out.  Which I've mentioned so many times in the past here that I'm sure it's sickening to hear again - but get over it asshats.  This is for me, not you.

So AMD (After Mom Died for those of you who may have forgotten), I'm coming to terms with the fact that I can leave.  I don't have to have a specific schedule.  I can go out of town if I want (doing that this weekend actually!).  I can *gasp* BE LATE - because I don't have to leave at a specific time.  (If you have been a victim of my recent lateness, I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not - I'm testing out my own little freedoms so piss off).

Since I *can* leave, and us crazy folks like to do things in baby steps - I need reasons to leave so that I just don't drive around aimlessly and end up places like Lagrange - for NO reason.  Yeah.  That's happened before.  Enter Krav Maga.  My reason for being out on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  My "push yourself outside the comfort zone" experiment.  Which has rapidly turned into a way to keep me sane(er) (ish?).  Yeah - I still take meds, but when I go to class there's not a whole lot of time DURING class for me to be anxious or worried about anything.  I'm too busy trying to hit, kick, grapple - OR - not GET hit, kicked, etc.  It's like this beautiful off switch.  So I don't think I'll be giving it up any time soon.

HOWEVER.

This does not mean that I don't freak the fuck out BEFORE class.  Holy jeebus on a godsdamned crutch.  I was so nervous Tuesday that I double drugged myself.  I almost didn't go.  I almost convinced myself I didn't NEED that.  I was wrong. I do need it.  For myself.  I was really proud of myself, and I still am.  One of my sisters was surprised when I told her that I wasn't going to have anyone come to the belt ceremony.  Not because I'm anxious, or embarrassed - but because for right now - and for the next little bit - THIS IS MINE.  I'm not sharing it - except in words, right here.  I don't need to show anyone how hard I have worked, and will continue to work - except me.

Thanks to all my class mates too - and of course my Instructor.  I know it's gotta be frustrating sometimes to have the slowest person on your team for drills - but you never EVER make me feel that way, and for that I am grateful.  I could not get comfortable, and push myself to improve, without that. Between that, and my own mental gymnastics, I am ever so slowly Becoming.  /sap

Yeah, that's enough of that bullshit.  <3

Inspiration vs Faux Inspiration & Twinning vs. Winning

I have added quite a few of my Krav class mates to my FB page - because I like them.  They are funny, they are good people, they kick my butt twice a week and watch me sometimes flop like a fish.. but still root for me.  They seem to not give a shit that I cuss like a sailor (or they're politely ignoring it - either way, go you!).

Right.  So.  We have SuperBeast (that's a compliment by the way, and yes, it's a she - and I don't care who you are, she can take you) and Mr. SuperBeast, then we have Minnie (Minnie the Moocher song always plays in my head for this lady) and her daughter Hedy (yeah, as in Lamar, because she's pretty and she's good at science IT'S THE WAY MY BRAIN WORKS!), Sgt. McGoof and his progeny - There are three, so they will be Larry, Curly and Baby Moe, Twin (we share the same name - though he is male), The Professor, Mama Bear, Mini-Instructor and Sailor Moon.  There are a couple others, but these are the peeps I've been in class with the most recently.

I knew when I started this thing there would be testing.  I mean, my brain received that information blinked at it, and then filed it under "Ignoreuntilnecessaryinordertopreventimplosion".  I love my brain.

Well.  It's coming.  And I've been doing awesome - Tabata sets at work, walking, etc.  I already drink water all day. I'm a little nervous, a little scared - mostly ignoring it.  Until I have a moment of "OMGWTFHAVEIDONETOMYSELF?!?!" To which there is generally no reply (yes, I talk to myself - shut it!) or, if I'm freaking out all over someone (either the BFF or my Person) then I get encouraging responses.  BFF: "You'll be fine."  My Person: "I believe in you. Harness your inner Wonder Woman, go forth and conquer."

Alrighty.  As we can see from Exhibits A and B - *I* am apparently awesome.  So I have nothing to worry about.  Right?  Right?!?!?!

 Then today, I get a lovely message from Twin.  It really was lovely - very encouraging and uplifting, with some advice about how to approach the next two weeks.  You're probably used to reading most of my blog in Snark Voice.  Really - no snark here.  It was awesome.  Thank you.  Words like "cardio, watch what you're eating, beast mode, one day, come back for second test so we can beat you up".

Okie doke. Hours later: (This is how my brain works)  As we can see from Exhibit C - *I* am apparently not nearly as awesome as I thought I was and I'm going to die while doing my own test, and then I'm going to die again while the advanced people do their test, and I can only eat lettuce (never fucking kale!) for the rest of my life because Twin said that I had to do all of these things because everything happens in beast mode and if I don't do it then I'm going to fail and nobody likes a goddamned loser Dani.  *gaspgaspgaspflailgaspflail*

Am finally calm.  Ish.  Calmish.  I think there will be hiking this weekend at Red Top.  To keep my brain from gaspflailing anymore.  Twin? I hate you.  But just a smidge.  I mean - it *is* pretty funny.

*** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_types_of_killing  *** Just for future reference.

P.S.

I promise to not eat pizza before the test.

******************EDIT*****************

For some reason Twin thought I was discouraged.  This is not the case.  This is just my normal every day brain cycle - and it's conclusion makes me (and hopefully some other folks) laugh.  So no, Twin was not being mean to me.  ;)

Fuck yeah, Tank Girl! Also - Do or Do Not, There Is No Try.

Faked you out, right???  Multiple posts in one day - holy shit batman, what is she doing?!

Back to our regularly scheduled topic of transformation, redefining, change, etc. I just really needed to get my thoughts out and down about this whole death penalty thing. (See previous post if you give two shits - if not, keep reading).

A friend of mine posted an article the other day titled "Transformation: If You're Enjoying it You're Doing it Wrong"

That hit pretty hard.  Ok, really fucking hard.

http://www.rebellesociety.com/2017/06/01/clivetreadwell-transformation/

"Transformation isn't something you choose, it chooses you.  Transformation happens alone."

The alone part really got to me.  Not because I don't have awesome people - but because I do.  Hrm.  It's hard to explain.  I'm going through this bullshit right - everything I used to do, be, etc IS NO LONGER.  I know I've said it before, but that is a huge fucking deal.  Some of the relationships that I have, I began while I was taking care of Mom, and helping with the family. That whole dynamic is different because... mom is dead, and I don't have to do much for the family.

I feel awkward and out of place.  It doesn't mean I love those people any less - or am any less grateful for them - or that I'm getting rid of them.  (You assholes are stuck with me for life) It does mean that I feel like I have to re-find my place in those relationships... does that make sense?

And yeah, that does lead into class.  I am a person who sometimes needs a physical manifestation of a thing to "get it".  Part of that transformation is physical.  It's not even about literally transforming my body - but more of using my body to transform my head.  Like.. the more I hurt, the clearer my head becomes.  And not in the super crazy cut me way.  That's what tattoos are for.

Every time I go in there, I push myself a little harder than the time before.  I'm making myself move more at work.  And outside - though it's seriously about to be too fucking hot for that shit.  I despise sweating.

It's comfortable being surrounded by other people that are also transforming.  Doesn't matter what their reasons are - transforming sucks - it hurts, and it's supposed to.  If you want to make it out to the other side, you gotta suck it up and take one more step when your brain is telling you to stop.

Holy shite, that sounded suspiciously like a faux inspirational facebook meme.  LAME.

It's still good.  It's still kicking my ass - but I still love it.  I am learning about myself.  I went to class on Tuesday and took NO medication beforehand.  We did some of the hardest drills I've done while going there - AND I FINISHED.  I didn't finish lame either.  I fucking finished awesome.  I'm sore, and my knuckles are swollen - but it doesn't matter because it feels good.  I'm listening to other people share their stories - in the small ways that people do, and I'm realizing that I am JUST as bold and awesome as they are.

Does that make sense?  I go in there twice a week, and I'm always absolutely amazed by each one of these people.  Even the kids!  I'm in awe of what they are capable of - and watching them work, and having them help to teach me.  It was only recently that I realized - I'm not too bad myself.  I hate not being good at something.  But you know what?  I'm absolutely giving it my best - and FINISHING - and that. is. goddamn. awesome.  I might never be great at it - but I'm going to DO, just like Master Yoda said to.

True Crime and Death Row

There are so many things I want to talk about!!  That’s the real struggle with this blogging bullshit.  Like… are there rules?  Can I only make a post about one thing? (Well fuck, I screwed that one up already)  Are the posts supposed to be short – or long – or in between.  If I skip around on subjects, do I need to set this bastard up like an APA outline???

Seriously. That is my brain.  I got so stressed out about how to talk about all the things I wanted to talk about that… I just didn’t.  *facepalm*

I’m currently over that.  Although…. Breaking things up with headlines sounds fun, so let’s do that for a minute!

********MORBIDLY CURIOUS WOMAN RAISES EYEBROWS READING ABOUT DEATH ROW*********

Yeah, so, I read a book.  Watch Me Die by Dr. Bill Kimberlin.  If you are into true crime, learning about the justice system, interesting ethical conundrums, or just a curious weirdo like I am – I HIGHLY recommend it.  So this professor (the author) decides that he can’t really teach about Death Row until he knows about Death Row.  Commendable.  I’ve had a few professors who have obviously only ever known a thing in theory.  So the good Doc moseys through all these channels, and discovers he has to be invited.  Lo and behold – the inmates want to talk.  He starts getting invited to witness executions, and he can interview the inmates for his book.  All with their permission of course.  I have always been OK with the death penalty – it takes a long time, the appeals process is in place to make sure that if a mistake has been made it can be rectified, etc.  Not so much anymore.  Well.  Kinda.  How many of you know how we handle government funded murder?  Harsh words, right?  But – accurate, by our own definitions.  Most folks would be like – lethal injection, it’s painless.  Yeah, I was that naïve before the book as well.  NOPE.  It’s more like this:

State Employee 1: Well, looks like we have some bad motherfuckers we gotta kill.  Need to get some drugs together for that injection.

State Employee 2: Yep – better get a book or something, since we can’t have a doctor or nurse in there.  Think we should tell people we don’t know if it’s painless or not?

Employee 1:  Nah, they don’t really need to know that one of the drugs is a paralytic.

Employee 2: True, true.  It would be terrible if we upset people with the death throes of an inmate.

** I really wanted to cuss more in that.  I held back.  

Lethal injection = chemical cocktail that they HOPE works because drug companies are refusing to sell to us because we use them to kill.  

There’s a state that still has the gas chamber.  Seems innocuous yeah?  Hell the fuck no.  Arizona, Missouri, and Wyoming.  Gas chamber = death by Hypoxia.  A bucket is put under the chair that the inmate is sitting on.  Sulfuric acid and sodium cyanide crystals are mixed.  Skin turns purple, eyes bulge out – and can take about 20 minutes to die.  No cruel and inhuman punishment, right?  But – they didn’t say it couldn’t hurt.  

Then there’s hanging – yep, still got one of those going on.  And hello – that takes some fucking math skills.  Weight, height of the drop, etc – to insure that the neck snaps for instantaneous death.  How many prisons do you think have someone with the math skills to accurately figure that out?  Yeah, pretty much zero.  

Oh oh oh… then there’s the firing squad.  The most humane.  

Electric chair?  Jesus Christ on a crutch.  Remember the Green Mile?  That was accurate.  “The inmate that is to be put to death by electrocution must first have his head and leg shaved.  Once they are strapped into the electric chair, a metal skullcap shaped electrode is attached to the scalp on top of a sponge that has been soaked in a saline solution…The inmates face is covered due to the simple fact that once the electricity is passed through a body it is not uncommon for the eyeballs to pop out of the skull.  The inmate often urinates, defecates, and vomits blood once the nearly 2000 volts surge through their body for 30 second intervals which is repeated until they are pronounced dead.  Since the body is hot enough to blister someone who touches it, the body must cool for a period of time before being removed from the chair.”

Good ol’ Nietzsche reminded us about this type of thing…. “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster.  And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”

Some people need killin’.  It’s true.  William Sapp?  He’s on death row.  He needs to die.  He’s evil.  Is it necessary however, for us to become like him to get it done?  I don’t think so.

Badass Birthday Bitches and Stuff

I'm sure you guys have noticed that I like to keep it pretty anonymous on here.  I mean, I use my name - and anyone with elementary snooping skills could probably suss out the names of my family members, etc.  In fact... hey, any of you want some sisters?  I got LOTS.  Like, EXTRA.  Seriously though - Got'em in all flavors, and all ages.

Anyone?  No, no one? Figures.

ANYWAY.  I figure it's not my place to use other people's names since this is my story.  They are part of my story - but it's not up to me to tell any part of *their* story.  Following me so far?

Excellent!

I've told you about my amazing class.  Which, I haven't been to in a week.  Admittedly, the first day I was sick.  The second day I basically just said fuck the world.  Well, I'm going back tonight.  Moving helps.  Sweating helps.

I've told you how awesome all of the people are that I've met.  I'm gonna have to start giving them Blog Names if I'm gonna babble about any of them regularly... thoughts for the future.

For now - I want to discuss Instructor - because y'all....

IT'S HER BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I want you to know that I had to back space A LOT to take out "motherfucking" first, and then "fucking" for a plain old happy birthday.  That. Is. Love.)

My Instructor is definitely more awesome than yours.  Apparently this whole thing I'm now a part of, was all started by Chuck Norris? (who knew, right??) Little bits of research, and BA BAM!!  You see Instructor's name with Chuck Norris' name all over the damn internet.  I mean, I've seen the pictures, but c'mon... getting a shout out in a Chicken Soup book?  YOU BEEN HOLDIN' OUT ON ME TEACH!

Seriously though, none of that surprised me.  I have had the privilege of watching her, as well as her daughters and husband, interact with people of all ages and types.  I have seen her teach the most adorable littles new karate stuff (I'm sure there's a word for that shit, but I don't know it), and then turn around and teach the same thing to an adult who's never done it.  All without making the adult feel bad, or the little feel small.

I mean, she's helped me quite a bit.  Starting out here, showing up just because my BFF made me, is what really started the process of my Becoming.  I know that she is always understanding, kind, compassionate, honest, thoughtful, tough - and freaking hilarious.  I mean, who better to have guide you through something new, painful, and completely different?  I think it's safe to say that any of us that have worked with, or just known her, have been pretty damned lucky.  Thank you - from the deepest darkest blackest pit of my little heart - thank you.  :)  Never ever forget how much you mean to everyone you touch.

And that's about all the sap I can handle for one post.  So... moving on.

I've flipped around a few Chuck Norris facts for your enjoyment:

When my Instructor was born, she drove her mother home from the hospital.

My Instructor makes onions cry.

My Instructor once fought Supergirl.  The loser had to wear a stupid looking outfit.

My Instructor can set ants on fire with a magnifying glass.  At night.

And....

NOW REMEMBER!!!!!

WE DON'T DISCUSS THE BLOG IN CLASS!!  ;)  Hope your day has been awesome lady!!

Euphemisms, Honesty, and a fallow field of fucks

So many things to say.  The year of firsts really sucks.

Remember, I started this blog because no one talks about grief.  Well - no one talks honestly about grief.  Things might get a little uncomfortable up in here.  Fair warning.


As a society we use a multitude of euphemisms for death or dying.  A person passed.  They transitioned.  They are no longer with us.  They've gone to glory.  He/she is in a better place.  Jesus called him/her home.  The angles needed him/her.  Got his/her just rewards.  I'm sure you've heard them all.  Why??  Why do we do that?  Because flat saying, "Mother's day this year sucks ass because my mother is DEAD" is for some reason not socially acceptable.

Test it out - it feels... verboten.

My mother is dead.  This weekend sucked pretty hard for me, my Dad and my sisters, because my mother is dead.

Right??  Feels weird.  Know what else?  It feels strangely fucking good.  My mother is dead.  Does that make you uncomfortable?  Perhaps just as uncomfortable as I am when I have to explain that I'm currently miserable because my mother is dead?

I'm aware that isn't really fair - especially not to people who don't know me, my family, or the situation.  I do find however, that I'm currently out of fucks to give. *shrug*

Being the mostly sane and fairly logical person that I am, I know that in a short bit I'll be fine again.  It's all good - don't go freaking out on me.  This whole thought process has really pointed out to me though how often we go out of our way to NOT say what we mean.  I like to think I don't do that too terribly often, but I'm sure I have.

Maybe if we stopped using goddamned euphemisms for anything and everything that is the slightest bit unpleasant - we would have adults that are capable of coping, children who aren't frightened of words, and a people as a whole who are generally more well balanced.  At least be honest with yourself.

Euphemism: My mother passed away.
Reality:  My mother is dead.

Euphemism: She can be a little opinionated sometimes.
Reality: I think she's bitchy because I don't agree with her opinions.

Euphemism:  We can all just agree to disagree!
Reality: I still think you're wrong, but don't want to argue anymore.

Euphemism: He's currently between jobs.
Reality: He's unemployed.

Euphemism: You're becoming a little thin up top.
Reality:  You're balding.

Euphemism: We need to worry about our own people, not the world!!
Reality: I am slightly bigoted, but don't want to admit my fear of the outside world.

Euphemism:  She's currently working as an escort.
Reality:  She's a hooker.

Try it.  Pick a day.  And just be honest that whole day.  No euphemisms, no sugar coating.  That doesn't mean you have to be rude either.  You can be honest, and still be polite.  See what happens.

Saudade, Alexithymia, and Clinomania

Just a quick update, for those of you who may have been looking for a new post.

May?  Terrible month.  Just had my birthday, which was awesome - I have amazing people, and Joey's first birthday.  Without mom.  Then you know what's next week?  Mother's Day.  Without mom.  Then you know what's the week after that?  Mom's birthday 5/25.

Class is still awesome - it's doing double duty by keeping my brain/body occupied at least a little during May.  Although, there was some talk of "bring your mom to class day" - I'll have to double check, but if that's a thing, I may skip it.

I'm just going to keep as occupied as possible for the next little bit.  Whether it's yard work, video games (yes, you read that right - don't like it?  Bite my pale white patootie), class, or you know... wine.  ;)  Just gonna survive it.

Yeah.  That's all I got.

"...and I'm standing on the corner of Fifth and Vermouth."

It's May 1st.  My birthday is May 4th.  Joey's birthday is May 5th.  Mom missing out on both sucks pretty damned hard.  I think I'll be drunk a lot this weekend.

Patience level: 0

Compassion level: 1

Fucks available to give: -50


Not too terribly concerned though - I'm sure I'll mood swing right on through this bullshit at some point in the next couple days, right?  Fucking grief ninja.

Bruises, Becoming, Believing & Profanity

There are probably some folks that are a little tired of hearing about my adventures in Krav Maga.

Guess you're going to have to suck it the fuck up dude, because I'm pretty sure it's not gonna change for a minute.

If you're new here, I would suggest starting from the beginning.  The posts aren't pretty - but they are honest, if a little raw.  Also, I cuss like a sailor - so if you can't deal, you might wanna just stop here.

I guess in a way, it kind of fits perfectly with my whole "redefining myself" adventure.  It's not an "art form", it's... logical.  Well, to me it's logical.  It is action and reaction.  It is movement.  It is testing your own boundaries, it's pushing yourself to be able to react in the best way possible.

I told a friend the other day that I am Becoming.  And that's it really.  AMD - I've struggled with depression, anxiety, and a sense of loss of self I guess - on top of losing mom.  I mean, I talked early on in the blog about how I had to completely redefine myself.  This is part of my redefinition, it is part of my Becoming, and I love it.  The physicality helps me because I'm moving.  Learning new techniques and drills engages my brain.  It's just... good.  Really good.  I finally feel like I might be more than just a caretaker with no one to take care of.

Tuesday, we learned front kick defenses - which seem easy... yeah, not so much.  My arms are still a little sore - but in the best way.  I'm still not good - and I *really* hate not being good at something, but I'm gonna get there.  I like it too much not to.  The super interesting part - and by super interesting I mean holyshitthisishappening - was that our instructor was taking video of various parts of class.  She always puts a little chaos into class, to see if we can use the new techniques under stress.  This one required our team mates to beat us about like a damn pin ball - while being able to defend and deflect the front kick coming from the one attacker circling you.  Mhm.  I look like a damn fool - but I'm gonna share that with you anyway.  Because there is NO shame in my game.

So yeah, I didn't do too shabby.  And it was fun. Mostly haha.  I was so tired by this point it was unreal.  I'm not gonna lie, I totally went last in the hopes that everyone else would be worn out hahaha - that didn't work out quite the way I wanted it too ;)

Today was a "bonus day" - where we worked on clenches, fighting through them, etc.  I'm always worried I'm gonna hurt someone - because I haven't quite gotten the hang of being able to pull my strength back.  I'm working on that though too!!  

And then.  There's... Tabata.  Tabata, I am convinced is Japanese for "Workout so fast that you might die, then try to breathe, then do it again. Muahahahaha"

CONVINCED.  Though I can't lie -it's pretty effective.  I mean when I started class, push ups were a JOKE for me, planks were also a joke.  Now though, I can get through push ups (girly ones on my knees - but dammit I can DO them) and I can hold my plank for... well, longer than I did.  Haha.

All in all, I think it's safe to say that I love it.  Every bruise, every day that my body is stupidly sore, every time I get corrected (and yes, I do want to be corrected - for all my class peeps), every time I leave a hot goddamned mess I'm also ridiculously happy.

Whatcha think, Mom?  I think I'm doing pretty good.  I think you'd like the me I'm becoming.

Oh hey - P.S.  My birthday is May 4th - which is a class day - I will be there!!

My awesome bruises:

Serial Killers, House of Potentially 1000 Corpses - basically - tl;dr

I really should just post these things when they occur in my head.  Trying to back track because there was something awesome in the grey matter at one point is.... really fucking difficult.

First - I had been reading about this serial killer couple that I had never heard of before - Rose and Fred West, in the U.K.  I randomly read an article about a mini-drone being spotted outside a maximum security prison in the U.K.  They mentioned that the "infamous" Rose West was housed there.

Wait.  What?  Infamous?  I thought I had my serial killer info on point!  Nay nay, I did not.  Needless to say, I got sucked in.  All the news articles, bought a book, crazy research ensued.  Well.  Short version - those folks were fucked up.  Bad.  Like - worse than the story of Trudy Chase (not a serial killer, but still ab psych which is the interesting part to me).  Anyway - a lot of people think it's strange that I devour these types of things.  It's not like I get some sick joy out of it - but I think it's important to remember.  We have a tendency to be outraged, and sickened while the investigation and trial are happening in a situation like that - then as soon as that's over, we forget.  Forget the victims, family members, all the other people that were affected even peripherally by the acts that were perpetrated.

By "we" I mean the general public.  The people who worked those things, the cops, social workers, etc, they remember.  But we forget them too.  I mean - come on, isn't that just a little fucked up?  Revel in the gore - but move on when the spotlight dims.

Any who... what else... what else.

Oh yes. Domesticity.  My house is a goddamned madhouse right now.  I have lived at the parents house for the past several years to help take care of Mom.  I'm not in a position to move out yet - sadly.  One sister and my nephew moved in.  Love them.  I do.  Still not good at people-ing.  It doesn't matter if we're related.  Thankfully, she's kinda the same way so we can ignore each other pretty well. Another sister is staying with us for a few weeks.  So lets break this down...

- Three bedroom two bath house
- 4 adults.
- 1 baby
- 5 dogs
- 1 cat

One bedroom for the pops.  One bedroom for me.  One bedroom for sister and nephew.  One sister on couch.  Dogs all over.  Cat wherever cat wants to go.  You know what this is for me?  HELL.  Seriously, my family knows that I love them, but this is my own personal hell.  (Sisters who might read this - don't get pissed, you know you feel the SAME damn way).

So - when one of my best friends contacted me and was like, "Hey, totally last minute but can you house sit?"  I was ALL over that.  Another sister (yeah, I have lots) thought it was hilarious that I was house sitting at my old house (I was said friends roommate for years).  So here I am - with THREE days of NO HUMANS.  Me.  Two cats.  My PS4.  Fallout 4.  Frozen pizza.  Root beer.  I even bailed on class that Thursday.  Ate all their waffles.  BLISS.  Beautiful amazing people-less bliss.

Oh, and fuck you pizza and root beer.  They are not your friends when you hit over 35 - just FYI.

It's Tuesday.  Class was tonight. It kicked my ass.  There were videos taken.  Yes, I will post the humiliation.  After Thursday.  If I'm alive.  I cannot brain any more tonight.

Highly Illogical Chocolate Jesus

This is another wiffle waffle post.  I should do it - I shouldn't do it.  People might get mad - but who cares?!  Etc, etc, etc.  You know how the brain works.  Well, maybe yours doesn't.  But by now you've seen how mine works at least a smidge.

Yeah, I get it.  It's scary up in here sometimes.

Actually, that's part of the waffling - well, that and Easter, and bullshit.  You know.

Maybe this should be two posts?  Eh... fuck it.  My blog, my brain.

In the very recent past one of my sisters and I were discussing the crazy that is in our family.  I mean, there is some legit actual mental illness crazy going on in a few limbs and branches of ye olde family tree - and then there's what we call our Crazy.  It's like... we see it happening.  We KNOW that whatever reaction we are having, or are about to have (or about to say), is *completely* and totally irrational.  WE SEE IT.  Know what happens?  If I'm not real careful Crazy Dani actually lets that irrational bullshit come out of her mouth, or does something really stupid.  I've also discussed this with my Person.  He says all women are crazy.  Well yeah - I mean, that is true to a degree.  I guess what I'm wondering is - for those of you who have ovaries - do you see that shit happening like an out of body experience (like we do), or do you just you know.. like float back to normalcy and hindsight gives you a nasty view?  Or are you crazy free?  (Disclaimer:  you can tell me you're crazy free, but I'll know you're lying.  Ovaries.)

Not that it matters really.  In my soon to be 38 years (birthday comin', I like surprises), I have yet to figure out how to keep it from happening.  I have simply learned how to mitigate the damage.  Like - only talk to people important to you IF you give the clarification that you're a little cray today.  Otherwise, zip sister - because you're going to ruin relationships, eff up dinner, screw up holidays, cause an accident and/or topple governments.

WAIT. A. DAMN. MINUTE.

I'm running for President in the next go 'round.  I expect your full support.  If you aren't hearing some exceptional symphonic metal in your mind right now - then you just don't know what you're missing.

Which kind of leads me to Easter.  Weird transition I know - but try to keep up.

So.

I felt a little cray on Saturday.  Which was weird, because I was "Lookit how cool I am with my spiffy bruises from class, I'm the rockin'est EVAH" all week long.  I ignored it.  I think I managed to maintain decent control on the cray for that day.  I felt so off, I didn't even complain about the drills we had to do on Thursday, which included motherfuckingsprawls I might add.

Then Sunday rolls up, and I'm like - hold up.  It's Easter.  I miss my Mom.  We are celebrating a day when this man supposedly rose from the dead to save us all.  Huh.  And you know what?  I'm still pissed off.  STILL PISSED.  So eff you Zombie Jesus (or Lich Jesus, whichever you prefer).  We ordered pizza.  So eff your ham dinner too.

Also?  Not really interested in hearing the religion lecture from anyone.  I think people forget that religion is what I'm schoolin' for, so I'm not a godsdamned idiot.  I *know* the bible - all the versions.  Keep your wine and crackers to yourself for right now too.  I'm only here for the chocolate.  Which, since it's all on sale today... I will be grabbing.  And having to do extra laps for.

As it turns out the most recent spate of craziness did indeed have a "reason".  So that's good I guess.

 I'm not really sure where I was going with all of that bullshit, but there it is. Like Mom used to say, "Don't worry, you will be assimilated" and when you are, it should all make sense. Some of us are still waiting.

Dean!! Gimme some "Eye of the Tiger"!!! (Life lessons by the Winchesters)

First of all - if you're new here, understand that most of these posts are actually drafted as conversations with myself, in my head, usually while driving.  In between cussing at the other cars.

As has been the topic of the last few posts - this one too, is about class.  Yep.  Still going.  Tonight though, I had my first Moment.  Yeah, you read that right.  Capital M - Moment.  You see, I got cocky, and I figured I could change up my routine.  Normally, I take one of my anxiety meds before class.  Not like an extra one - just a couple hours earlier than bedtime.  Just In Case.

Today?  I was like, nah - I got this.  I like this place.  I like these people.  I don't need no stinkin' pharmaceuticals.

Oh dude. Wrong.  So wrong.  I mean - I do still like the place, and all the people - but the anxiety doesn't give a shit.  About half way through class our instructor was like - ok, heel palm strikes, sprint to the other side of the mat and sprawl.

SPRAWL Y'ALL.  SPRAWL.

If there's a word that NO chubby sweaty anxiety ridden girl EVER wants to hear included in instructions - it's sprawl.  It sounds just as graceful as it is.  But.  I did it.  I hit, and I sprinted, and I sprawled.  I'm chubby, so I'm slower than everyone else.  Which, logically, I know is fine.  It's normal.  It's ok.  Except... Anxiety Brain slooooooows everything down.  I'm so heavy.  Moving one foot after the other is so hard - I'm winded, I'm fat, I'm jiggling, I'm the ONLY ONE STILL GOING because I'mwindedimfatimjiggling.  You get the picture here?  Now, keep in mind, with no anxiety attack - I still would have been slow because this is all new to me - but it would have FELT different, if that makes any sense.

Then something damn near miraculous happened.  My instructor saw me slow.  She said walk, breathe, keep going.  So I did.  And I turned around and still had a few more reps to do and everyone else was done - but instead of what my anxiety ridden brain expected I got, "Dani! You can do it!  C'mon Dani - you got this!"  And?  They meant it.  They all *wanted* me to finish.  It was... really nice.

So I did.  And I finished.  I will get better.

Though... I will probably take my meds early for a few weeks yet ;)

Do the thing. Just do it.

Some days are better than others.  Today was decent.  I had another Krav Maga class - and I'm still excited.  After talking with my instructor, and one of my fellow students, after class I realized that I've been working on that list subconsciously.  You know - that list I posted forever ago, about redefining yourself?

RECAP!!

1.  List new qualities - DONE

2.  Break one bad habit - DONE - Quit smoking - boom!

3.  Reinforce friendships, make new friends - Still working on this one, it should be continuous

4.  Decide what defines you - Still working on this one too

5.  Follow one old passion - broke out my crochet hooks the other day.  It's gonna happen.

6.  List what you love - My person, my friends, my family, my books, art, music, movement.

7.  Be realistic - We'll get into that below

8.  Be positive - this one is tough sometimes, but I'm working on being Positive Fucking Patty

9.  Make a visual - More below

10.  Ignore what others think - got this one down.

So - decide what defines you.  I don't know that it's something that people actively think about, unless and until it changes.  If you had asked me what defined me a couple of years ago, I probably would have given you some inane answer involving reading, learning, etc.  In reality, I have found that while those things HELP to define me, they did not define me.  The things I did every day defined me.  Taking care of mom defined me.  Dealing with nurses defined me.  Clearing catheters, making soft foods, talking and reading to mom defined me.  Working every day, and having that almost second life at the office defined me.  Reading to escape what I did every day - defined me.

Those things no longer define me.  They no longer exist really.  Mom is gone, and although when I'm home I catch myself thinking I need to go check on her - I don't.

Taking these classes help to define me.  I guess more of a shaded outline - if that makes sense.  It's the broad sweeps that *I've* decided will be my outline.  I've made the conscious decision to do something completely new, and a little frightening, but exciting all at the same time.

I dunno - maybe it's easier because these awesome people are new?  They didn't know me from before.  They didn't see the caterpillar - they're just kind of seeing the cocoon.  Whoa, buddy - that's a lot of damn cliches but what the hell.

Ok, moving on to the whole being realistic.  So.  I am a klutz.  I jacked up my ankle.  It's not BAD hurt or anything, and I am aware that you're supposed to rest it, elevate it, etc.  But really, who has time for that??  Well... this girl now has to make time for that.  I was really worried that when I went back to class I would be in trouble, or I don't know, feel dumb because I managed to hurt myself.  Instead, my instructor was again fabulous - and showed me how to work around it and to take care of it.  I'm learning.  I'm stubborn as shit, but I am learning.

I'm sure there was something else I was supposed to mention here, but goddamn man, I am SORE, super hungry, and sleepy.  So eff that.

I love you, Mom.  I'm doing it.  I'm gonna finish it too.

Looking back, looking close, looking up

*waves*  Hey!  Yeah, I know - two months off.  And damn, there was a lot in those two months.  A short version of the past couple months could be:

-Don't assume you know how a person is grieving - even if they're family.  You're probably wrong.
-Kindness from anyone is a good thing, soak it up when it happens
-Don't compare your own grieving process to anyone else's - even if they're family.  You're not doing things the same way, and that's ok.


I mean, there was more - but for the purposes of this blog, that about sums things up.  In the meantime.. my best friend has been telling me about her kids going to karate.  She had nothing but glowing things to say about the family that ran the studio.  I finally had a chance to get out there, and I was present for their belt ceremonies.  It was awesome.  It was *so* awesome, that I - Super Anxiety Girl - went back, for a class.  That class was so awesome that I actually paid to continue taking classes.  So yeah, twice a week I'm basically getting my ass kicked by a room full of super nice strangers while learning Krav Maga.

Couple things here - I haven't gone out much at all since Mom died.  In the beginning that was fairly normal I guess, but then it got pretty bad.  My doctor suggested some anti-depressants, I accepted, and made an appointment with a shrink.  Being that I *am* Super Anxiety Girl, I was freaking myself out over the fact that I was freaking out over the fact that mom died.  Does that make sense?  Anyway, I saw said shrink - who was *amazing* and he was like, yeah - no big deal, we'll probably take you off of these around April.  You just need some help getting over the hump of your bereavement.  That made sense to me.  I take anti-anxiety meds every day, but depression isn't really my issue.  This all happened in January - and lo and behold there was light from above, and roughly two weeks into medication Dani was seen outside her home.  Fanfuckingtastic!  Seriously - baby steps in the right direction.

Anyway - all that drivel to lead up to the fact that while I have been getting OUT more regularly, signing up for regular Krav Maga classes is a little out of my norm... even before Mom's death.  Yet, I really like it.  I'll be coming off of these "new" meds, and I have something to do - regularly - after work that makes strange sense to me.  One of my sisters was surprised that I was going through with it.  I guess that makes sense.  But it makes me feel more in control.  And for me?  That's amazing ;)

Oh, and I quit smoking too.  Right?  I mean, why?  Although, I gotta say, breathing easier is nice when random nice strangers are kicking your ass twice a week.

Love!!

Holes, light, love, and bullshit.

I really have to get over not wanting to write things out because it does help.  I think I put it off because I know someone is going to read it.  But if I were to write it, and hide it, then what's the point?  I've been hiding my emotions for years.  I'm good at it.  Mostly. Gotta break that mold a little bit.

Christmas.  That pretty well sucked.  It was mostly ok because it was my nephew Joey's first Christmas.  We went a little crazy with his gifts - he's not even a year old so it's not like he really "gets" it.  Watching him pass up all the cool toys to play with the wrapping paper and the boxes was pretty fabulous.

New Year's Eve.  It actually was nice.  I did what I wanted.  I spent time with someone special to me, got dressed up, drank too much wine, and laughed a lot.  I called my sister in Japan, even though the time difference is retarded.  I didn't call the others - or Dad - I didn't even think about it.  It wasn't some slight that was done on purpose, I was just having a good time.  Well, I'm pretty sure I didn't call Dad because we aren't really getting along right now.  I don't feel like there's much I can say about that though.  Putting my business out there is one thing - putting my business as it entwines with other people (family or not) is another.  He just needs to find his way I guess.

I knew, intellectually, that the holidays were going to suck.  Totally different than having it all just kind of happen.  I'm a thinker.  I spend a lot of time in my head - analyzing, over-analyzing, tearing apart, figuring out, etc.  I realized another thing that people don't tell you about grief.

It changes everything.  Every family dynamic.  Your perspective.  Everything.

You might think I'm exaggerating, but I promise you, I'm not.  I saw some evidence of it when my Grandpa passed away.  I loved that man so much.  He was basically the glue for Mom's side of the family though.  When he passed away, the aunts kind of drifted apart - the cousins ceased to really know each other, and the relationships that were there from summers together just kind of... withered and faded out.  I remember thinking how crazy it was - and that we should do more to get together, and that Gramps would want us to do that, etc.  Guess what?  Now, now I know.

Mom is our glue.  Her presence, whether it was when she was sick, or not, defined how we treated each other.

"You girls need to take care of each other, you're sisters and sisters are forever."
"Don't talk back to your father!  He works very hard to make sure this family has what it needs."
"Don't judge - unless and until you are willing to walk in that person's shoes.  I know I taught you better."
"You don't turn your back on family.  Ever.  In the end, family is all that you will have."
"Be nice munchkin, even if they aren't - they probably need the niceness just as much as you do."

Mom brought us together for holidays.  She opened the door to the myriad teenagers that I (and my sisters) tramped through the house.  She always had an extra plate ready. "There's always enough.  Just add water."  She decorated for the holidays in crazy gaudy ways and made them fun.  We did presents for each other on Valentine's Day - not just Christmas and birthdays.  Now?  It feels like we're making the motions because we should be, but it's hollow.  It's hollow in all of us because that space that she left can't really be filled.  So finally, I get it.  I get why the aunts drifted away.  I get why each of them, my mother included, chose to focus so fiercely on their own families.  Because they had to fill that hole with *something*.

When you have had a love that is so beautiful, pure, bright, and generous - and suddenly it's gone, what do you do?  When that person leaves, and it literally makes you feel like the world just got darker - the whole way round?  WHAT DO YOU DO?

You try to fill that hole.  You could drink.  You could start doing drugs.  You could sleep around.  You could become bitter.  You could start shoveling every thing you possibly can into that wound - even the mostly good stuff, like loving your kids, or your friends, or you know.. good stuff.  Even that good stuff though, isn't going to be so good if you force it into a spot it doesn't belong to.  Does that make sense?  The shape of that hole is the size of a specific person, what they mean to you, and how much you miss them.  So basically - I have no fucking idea what I'm doing.  I just don't think that anything I try to put there will work.  (Quit freaking out - none of us have suddenly become 'ho's and drug addicts).  I am seeing the results of trying to force fill that hole though.

I guess it's just a matter of letting the edges of that space get a little less raw?  Maybe I can just let that spot be where the light goes.  The light that Mom made sure each of us had.  I just have to figure out a way to nurture it.  I don't think I'm quite there yet - I'll have to ponder that one for a while.

And now I have that damn song stuck in my head.  This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...