clickmom

Grandma’s purse

My grandmother always had the standard old lady stuff in her purse. There were hard candies, chiklets and tissues. But my grandma always had bird seed and peanuts, too.

She was’t a crazy bird lady. She never sat on a beach while they hopped all over her. She’d just see a bunch of pigeons, grab a handful of seed and toss it over to the group.

She was pretty much the same way with the peanuts and squirrels. Except for the squirrels around the Central Park zoo. I’m pretty sure this does not hold true in the same way in the 21st century, but back in the day (the old days, when the Central Park Zoo housed gigantic lions and gorillas were behind bars in tiny cages. Back in the old days before people advertised their cruelty and you could still buy a little bag of little fish to toss to the sea lions- because you had already fed the birds and squirrels!) the squirrels around the Central Park zoo were so tame from all the grandmas and their peanuts that they’d walk right up to you and take the peanut right from your fingers.

I’ve been thinking about grandma a lot lately. It just occurred to me right now that the 11th anniversary of her death is just days away. Maybe it’s because I recently told someone how she used to mess with my televisions right after she died. Or maybe it’s because (this is slightly embarrassing) I still have the almost 30 year old television from my stepford bedroom that she messed with even though we replaced it with a flat screen when we moved to new town 8 years ago.

Or maybe I’m just sad these days so I think a lot about sad things.

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Down

I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe how it feels to be depressed.

First I want to share that as a depressed person it’s a bit strange when people talk to me like I’m just a typical person because it feels like it’s so obvious that I’m not okay. I feel like I should look like someone who just walked out of a natural disaster. If I looked the way I feel I’d be burned and bleeding, covered in ash. My clothes would be shredded. My hair a gigantic tangle and dirt smeared all over my skin. On my face would be shock and bewilderment. Other people should be rushing over to carry me to safety. But no one seems to notice. It’s just one of the many mind fucks involved with depression.

If I imagine a gigantic round fish bowl on my head then sound would be muffled and distorted- unless it was my sound which would bounce around on the inside walls of my head gear fish bowl. I’d smell my own breath and hear my own sounds but no one else would. That sums part of this up. There is a sensory component. Like a lot of stuff is hyper real but then other stuff is distant and like a low buzz. So it’s either in the fish bowl or outside of it.

But there is also this emotional paralysis involved. If I also had an IV attachment somewhere I couldn’t access to remove or control and there was just the slowest drip of some kind of paralysis drug dripping down every now and then. Enough to make my breath catch but not enough to kill me. So I have to remind myself to exhale. It makes getting out of the car difficult. I pretend I’m hearing one more song or listening to an interesting news story. But the truth is that I’m really just trying so very hard to summon the energy to go out into a world where no one can sense the devastation I’m limping away from. Every movement is a gigantic effort. Gigantic.

I remind myself to stick with the routine because i know that if I just keep plugging along eventually the depression will lift- like that video where the raccoon tries to wash the cotton candy in the stream- it’ll be gone. In a snap. The stream will just absorb it and keep moving- that life stream. It never stops. It keeps going and one day I’ll be able to lower my cotton candy to it and whoosh. I’ll look up with an empty hand and everything will be reset. Back to normal. Another chance to really live. I’ll grab the bull by the horns. Seize the day. Whatever.

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in between

So. I'm not actually a big drinker, and by "not a big drinker" I mean I rarely drink. As much as I do kind of like the feeling of a little buzz, I just don't enjoy the taste and feeling of alcohol in my mouth. Also, I haven't had a hangover since college and I am fine with keeping that record forever. 

But, Saturday was Pal's birthday and he is just one of those people who likes a good birthday celebration. So, this year, since Pal's husband passed away last fall, Pal's friends (myself included) have been paying him some extra attention. Pal's good friend (work wife, maybe?) was hosting a birthday party for Pal at Pal's place and I got invited and naturally went. To make a long story short, there were a bunch of friends there, the work wife made an incredibly strong "signature drink", there was a ton of good food, a lot of pal's neighbors came by and with 90 minutes just about everyone (except me, who coddled the signature drink) was completely plastered. But it was more than just a drinking environment, it was almost as if the party was for the adult beverages instead of for Pal. I just don't get that relationship with booze. Now, Pal is the kind of drinker who does not know when to say when. He's been like that always and when we lived together I just used to go to bed when he got to a certain level of drunk, which usually around midnight, so it worked out just fine. But this time I had to wait it out to get the neighbors back to their houses first. And apparently the other friends (we were all staying the night) are also the type who don't know when to say when. 

In the end, one lady guest was so drunk she began to weep (why??), everyone was slurring, making emphatic hand gestures while spewing nonsensical discombobulated yet passionate heart felt garbage out their mouths. No bottle of anything went unopened. So, in addition to the signature vodka drink there was Prosecco, red wine and champagne. Someone had a pot vape that got some heavy use.  

There was vomiting. 

Vomiting.

eeewwwww.

I don't know folks. Maybe I'm just a total dud but I would way rather do a million other things than drink until I vomit.  Everyone who stayed over (except me) was still drunk the next morning. And here is the thing. They were all so stinking drunk that no one had any idea that I went through the evening with a light buzz early on but stone cold sober as son as I saw the rest of them deteriorating. Someone had to keep a level head, right? What if there was an emergency? Like someone cut a finger off slicing limes or tripped and busted their head open? I would have been able to drive to the emergency room. Luckily no one got hurt and I didn't have to be a hero but I was prepared.

The next morning the person who had a breathalyzer installed in his car couldn't drive to go get some breakfast. His fear was that his parole officer would find out if he even tried to see what his blood alcohol levels were (he knew they were elevated) and there would be consequences.  

Parole officer.

I was happy to leave. I liked these folks pre-drunk and then hungover. But the in between was a little frightening.

 

f.i.

I think I may have slipped off of that fence I've been straddling for some time now. I slipped onto the depressed side. I am sad in that way which completely paralyzes me. I feel nothing and everything. My motivation is zero. I cry while driving down the street. I ask myself if there is really anything worth staying on this earth for. (Other than to see the current white house resident behind bars) 

But I haven't lost my sense of humor!!

I told the goddess how I have been feeling and she began to cry. She asked me not to do that to her and said that if I ended it for me I might as well end it for her because she would die a thousand times. That kind of resonated with me. I was thinking about the kids but no one beyond the people came out of my womb. I mean, I told her that the kids were the one thing keeping me here, so unless someone takes out all of my kids I'm not gonna jump off a building. I told her in the way of I think about it but I wouldn't do it way- so I'm not threatening or even in any danger. Just need some relief- but won't hurt myself because of the kids.

Which is interesting since one of the kids is a huge source of much of my pain. I'm in agony here. Matt is distancing from me. I don't know why. I suspect that there is a toxic friend or two whispering shit. But I don't know. Because in order to know I would have to have a kid who was willing to sit down and talk to me but I don't. This is not the child I raised. This is not the child I sent off to hipster U. It is what hipster U spits out, and if I could burn hipster U to the ground I totally would. Worst choice ever made. I sent off a kid who would talk to me, share with me, respected me (it was mutual) and now I have a college graduate who won't even try to mend things (uncertain what they are but....) with me. 

I can't even write about this because I don't know what is happening and it is making me frantically ill.

 

really don't

There is a great big mess inside my head. Seriously. 

This morning, I brought sweet pea to the woods, walked for about an hour with a friend, walked on our own for another 45 minutes or so and left. I only left because I was angry at myself for not bringing my camera (I was betrayed by the phone weather app which LIED to me and said skies would be cloudy) and also because I was so layered up in clothes in my yearly summer attempt to avoid mosquito bites, that the sweat was pouring down my face. 

I think because I’ve been going to the Y sauna on and off for the last couple of months I got very efficient at sweating. On the one hand it’s healthy (I hope..) on the other hand, there are more attractive things to be efficient at, like controlling my binge eating. Don’t ask. I’m in weeble territory. Thank god I’m pretty. If I had an ugly face I would have to live under a bridge and yell at the billy goats right now. 

So, I was already kind of agitated because of the sunny weather without a camera thing. When I got back to this house, that I freaking hate so much ( even after 8 years of living here I still hate this house. Can’t explain it. I do not feel at home here.) I looked down at my leg and saw a tick crawling around! My other summer enemy!! I used two pieces of paper to scrape that god forsaken vile disease bearing creature off my leg and I squished him with a pen. 

Then I came in the house and the husband was asleep so I got busy, which is unusual, normally I am not productive. I cleaned the oven for the first time in 8 years. Or I should say- I began the process of cleaning the oven. (I’m going to need to let that oven cleaner sink in over night) First I took the racks out so I could use a spatula to clear out 8 years of stuff that dripped and ultimately turned into a fluffy kind of oven coating charcoal. I sent a photo of 8 years of charcoal oven drippings to a friend who sent back three texts. 1. OH 2. MY 3. GOD . She probably has a clean oven. I replied “Yeah. Every time I turned it on to warm it up someone said “Dinner smells good” even though it was just the ghosts of dinners past.” and she thought that was hilarious. I sprayed on some super old (I don’t even know where it came from - it was just in the house. May have had it in stepford) oven cleaner and now I’m giving that old oven cleaner time to work. 

Anyway, I am going to enter a contest with my photos. The winner gets a trip to Japan to print their photos with an antique method. I’ll be happy just to make it into the finalists. So, I came upstairs to print. Before I knew it it was 2 o’clock and I hadn’t heard a peep from the husband. So, naturally I froze while I made a plan for what I would do if he was in a coma or otherwise unresponsive but alive and also what to do if he was dead. He was fine. He had gotten out of bed and stumbled to the family room and was watching television. But, you know, the terror of wondering if today is the day doesn’t exactly put me in a sun shine and daisies happy mind set. 

Also, I had a bizarre dream a few night’s ago where he thought he was thoughtfully hiring landscapers to create a little haven for me except it was in the next door neighbor’s yard and quite frankly, I woke up from that dream screaming at him “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” in my head over the wasted money and I think I’m actually having trouble 3 days later letting go of all the dream anger. The dream must mean something. In the dream I had taken the 8 adirondack chairs from utopia and I don’t even know why I’m thinking about those chairs! I would have taken a lot of other items before those chairs. So strange. But I realized that having those chairs was a recurring dream and once I woke up I knew I had dreamed about those chairs at least 2 other times since we sold utopia last January. According to Dream Bible: To dream of a chair represents "staying put" with a decision. Taking a position in life. Situations where you are aware of yourself not wanting to take action at all. Waiting or "sitting a situation out." ... Alternatively, a chair may reflect how you are taking time out to contemplate a situation before proceeding. Does “Contemplate a situation” mean obsessively worry? If so, then mystery solved.

Also, I still hate the people who bought our house as well as the realtor and even though I know that hatred and resentment (they were all so incredibly dreadful to deal with!) are wasted emotions I also struggle every single day of my life with the inability to let go of anger and resentment. I wish there was a button for letting go. I’d be all over mine constantly. 

Anyways, I think I’m coming to a decision about which images to send off to the Japan printing contest. If they chose me it would be so freaking glorious. I’d probably not eat solid food until I got there in order to not offend them with my gigantic american size. 

I sat outside for a few minutes to get some sun and when I came back inside a felt a tickle on my neck which turned out to be another freaking tick walking around in my hair line. They are trying to kill me. All the insects have it out for me. The mosquitoes have been biting my boobs through my shirt and bra. I just…. nothing feels safe anymore. Maybe I should just move back to the city. Except NY is totally going to be under water in my life time. I feel quite resigned that I think the end of the world is here.

I’m just sad and frustrated. All I want to do is make photos that people buy so I can afford to make more. Is that asking too much? I don’t think so. I really don’t.

101.8

I’m pretty devastated thinking about Josh leaving for college. I think this will be the roughest college send off yet.

So I’ve been thinking and thinking so much about things were when they were small and how I wish I could go back and truly remember enough to relive and feel all those moments when I thought life couldn’t be any sweeter.

So, Josh graduates today and before we left I ironed Josh’s gown and sash and then I began to iron one of my own. As I glided the iron over the little decorative chest pockets on my shirt the iron caught on something. I slid my finger into the pocket and scooped out a small gray almost melted LEGO sword.

And that was first time I cried even though I had just applied my makeup and it was totally on point. No, seriously. Maybe I’m just so not used to seeing myself in makeup anymore- but this makeup today- looked like I had just gotten out of a professional makeup chair.

And my hair even looked great despite the non stop rain of the day

And then... naturally all my kids (my “adult” kids) were CRANKY because

They were hungry
There were too many people in the room for them
They were hot
His arm hurt where the doctor took blood yesterday (check up)
It’s so loud in here
People are touching me
Blah blah blah blah

So after the ceremony in the overcrowded gym Matt had to run back to the city of brotherly love, Evan kept slipping out of sight bumping into old friends and Josh pleaded to go straight home and not go out for a meal. And we just left.

None of those kids thought for one second that maybe I’d like to take some photos of the people I have life to. They just complained and fled. So I took an ironic photo of me alone in front of a sign the school put up to direct the proud life giving parents to cute little graduate themed display bulletin boards.

When we got back to the house Evan suggested Josh might like pizza so we ordered from the pizza place. Josh asked for pain relief because of a headache. He ate two slices of pizza and said I THINK I HAVE A FEVER. 101.8 folks. 1/2 hour after taking OTC painkiller. 101.2 half an hour later.

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we'll see

Tomorrow is the big day that sweet pea might finally get the green light to go back to normal activity. I'm so happy about it that I plan on walking her until she asks to stop once we leave the vet. I will be heart broken for her if they tell me she isn't ready for activity. I don't think they will.

In the mean time, my back has been out for freaking ever. Somewhere in the back of my mind has been this suspicion that one day I will need back surgery and I am so so so afraid that the day is here. I was hoping I could avoid it. 

I've been on a cleanse for 2 weeks now. Today I recommitted to 2 more weeks.  Then I think perhaps I will do it the first 2 weeks of every month. Goal: weight loss.  It is a product my new town chiropractor sells. It's overpriced. I've done it for 2 weeks, and I have to admit I wasn't letter perfect but still lost 12 pounds. The chiropractor told me that if I had done it to the letter I would have lost 20 pounds. (Not entirely healthy to lose 20 pounds in 2 weeks, is it?) I'll be less imperfect for this next round. It was good timing in a way that sweet pea has been on bed rest for her ailing paw. I am a wee bit concerned about my level of stamina. We will see....  

in the sauna

I think I'm going to start a new "thing" here and posts will start with So, the other day in the sauna..... because I can't seem to get an ordinary relaxing day in the sauna under my belt. Some other Y member is always doing some nonsense which is rude, inconsiderate and probably dangerous and this just makes my blood boil. I've been trying to get myself back into the water (pool as opposed to glorious open water of the lake) (insert crying emoji here) and if I'm going to get wet in the pool, you know I'm going to follow that up with a sauna! I do long for the company of that emaciated woman I used to rule the posh club sauna with back in step ford. I want my throne back? Just kidding. I hate it here in new town so much I just want to make incredible images until the time is right to get out of dodge and end up in who knows where, I don't know but it feels like it can't be less desirable than here. 

So, the other days (I have some catching up to do) in the sauna, some chick left her face mask and snorkel hanging from the fence around the heater unit to dry while she showered and got dressed. If I could have melted it I would have. Two teenage girls decided it was the right place to hang out and yak while fully clothed including their sneakers. Some asshole left her towel spread out on the little upper bench where I like to sit because it's hotter on top, forcing me to sit on the less hot lower bench and then she returned showered and fully dressed to grab her towel. (I almost punched the bitch.) And...... this old lady with the most frightening big toes, turned in at almost a 90 degree angle (It hurts me to even look at them) lied on the bench and did stretches and pelvic bridges, which is basically lying on your back with your knees bent, feet planted firmly while you thrust your pelvis upwards creating a straight line from your knees to your shoulders. Yes, folks, I got to witness a naked, rail thin, sweating old lady pelvic thrusting her bush into the air a few feet away from me in a hot sauna. 

I'm gonna keep replaying that image in my head as an appetite suppressant.

 

 

Team?

So

I can’t even stay calm to tell this story.

Sweet pea stepped on something which sliced her paw open and she had to get stitches.

I don’t know what she stepped on. I’m not exactly sure when she did it. We took a 2+ hour walk. She never complained. I saw a trail of blood once we got home and figured it out. I know that one of the vet techs at the vet described the horror film scene blood filled waiting room, exam room and back area she had to clean after we left to my SIL, her friend. Now poor sweet pea is on bed rest for 10 days.

Sometimes she cries a little bit.

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Wallowing

I was talking to friend who despite her husband’s rough attitude, which may or may not be attributed to brain damage from strokes or even the earliest stages of Alzheimer’s. She is still deeply in love with this guy, and doesn’t even want to think about life without him despite how he has pretty much been awful towards her the majority of time.

I personally tend to wallow in the big pond of resentment and anger.

I was thinking about my personal philosophy on love. I think that one can only love someone if they truly believe they are being loved by the other person. This is the way people can love someone who doesn’t actually love them, being based on a false belief. (Think: celebrity stalkers) It’s why battered women stay with broken men. They secretly believe that the men love them deep down inside. It would be the realization that one is not being loved which makes it possible to fall out of love, or “get over” someone.

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