On Being a Statistic

Recently I was thinking about the phrase "one in a million" or any such large number. The biggest thing about those kind of statistics is that for every "one in a million" there has to be 999,999 others who aren't that one. Everyone is a statistic on one side of the equation or the other. Most are "fillers" that create that "one".

I will never be that "one" because I fall somewhere in the middle of almost everything. I am not the best or the worst of anything. I have worked quite hard to make sure that is what people see and expect from me. There is a small part of me that wishes I could be really really good at something, even the best. But mostly I prefer to take the middle ground. And I'm okay with that.

But I realized something the other night watching Kid-2 at gymnastics. While I would never say or even imply it to any kid, let alone any of my kids, I do wish they would each be good at something, really good. Kid-2 isn't very good at gymnastics. She's having fun and that's what's important, but in the back of my head, I wish she had some really strong promise.

It's the same with each of them. Kid-1 plays football but he's no quarterback. Kid-3 does gymnastics pretty well and plays baseball well - both above average - but neither so good as to be great. Kid-4 also does gymnastics but he's young enough that he's mostly playing and hasn't found his niche yet.

What is wrong with me??? I love my kids - they are the most important thing in my universe. And I don't like them any more or any less for not being "really good" at their activities. But I do feel disappointed - yet not in them.

It's almost like I am using them as a reflection of me. If they excel at something, it is like I am excelling at something vicariously. Perhaps this is projection. Maybe I am actually more upset at myself than I think I am about not excelling at anything and am putting that on them. It could be that I just want everything wonderful for them, including a sense that they have something special about them. Maybe it's some strange combination of them all.

Regardless of why I feel this way or whether it's "normal" or not, I feel deeply ashamed of it. Not of them, but of my feelings. There is nothing wrong with being on the big side of the equation. They are happy where they are. I have no call to feel this way. Now how do I turn it off?

He's Gone

He's gone. I last saw him at 5:19 this morning when he turned and waved before heading up the escalator towards his gate. I've spoken to him twice since then by phone and did web cam with him once. But it's the not the same. It's not enough.

I am here, alone with four and half kids and a stressed out roommate. The kids are upset. And I am sinking lower than I have been in over a year. I don't want to be here. I can't do this by myself. I keep waiting to wake up and I'm just not. I swear to God, if it wouldn't leave my children so damaged, I would be gone tonight.

How am I going to get through this and be the strong one for them? I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I can't breathe. I can't think. And I'm about to give up.

Please, someone rescue me... if you can't rescue me, kill me - now.

The God That Is Jensen Ackles

If I wasn't in love with him before last night's episode of Supernatural, I'm won over and hopelessly addicted now. As part of the overall mythology, last night's show sucked. As far character development for either brother, last night's show sucked. As far as the brotherly relationship, last night's show had a nice twist of the knife to the heart but that part lasted all of 30 seconds and didn't make up for the things that were screwed up.

BUT....

As far as Jensen goes - THIS EPISODE ROCKED!!!! They played him for comedy and he played it up big. The scream was so funny I watched it twice, giving myself an asthma attack from laughing so hard the first time. The way he got jittery over everything was a trip. His panic attack was funny. His reaction to Hallucination!Sam was dead on. The show was just hysterical. I love that guy.

But this had to be tops of everything I have seen:



All Jensen - no Dean. Did you see the laugh at the end? Dean never laughs like that - he doesn't have much to be that relaxed and happy about. But it suits Jensen wonderfully. (I think it suits most men wonderfully - to laugh and smile, wide and relaxed with pride and truly having fun. Hubby looks good that way, too, though like Dean, we rarely see that laugh from him.)

Two Songs with Great Lyrics

The songs themselves are a bit harder than I normally like best, but when I looked up the lyrics, the first one (The Gift) left me speechless. The other, Falling, is straight out of my head too.

This first one is how I have felt this past week, clinging to Hubby with the knowledge that he is leaving me and will be gone for longer than we have ever been apart since we met. For me, I think "The Gift" represents independence.

"The Gift" (Seether)

Hold me now I need to feel relief
Like I never wanted anything
I suppose I'll let this go and find a reason I'll hold on to
I'm so ashamed of defeat
And I'm out of reason to believe in me
I'm out of trying to get by

I'm so afraid of the gift you give me
I don't belong here and I'm not well
I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living
Right on the wrong side of it all

I can't face myself when I wake up
And look inside a mirror
I'm so ashamed of that thing
I suppose I'll let it go
Until I have something more to say for me
I'm so afraid of defeat
And I'm out of reason to believe in me
I'm out of trying to defy

I'm so afraid of the gift you give me
I don't belong here and I'm not well
I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living
Right on the wrong side of it all

Hold me now I need to feel complete
Like I matter to the one I need

I'm so afraid of the gift you give me
I don't belong here and I'm not well
I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living
Right on the wrong side of it all

Now I'm ashamed of this
I am so ashamed of this
Now I'm so ashamed of me
I am so ashamed of me...

This next one, Falling by Staind, sounds like the things I tell myself when I am upset at how whiny and self-indulgent and generally pathetic I am when I feel weak or do stupid things like cutting that are going to get me into trouble or when I find myself wishing for a hero to rescue me.

Falling (Staind)
You
In your shell
Are you waiting for someone to rescue you
From yourself
Don't be disappointed when no one comes

Don't blame me you didn't get it
Don't blame me you didn't get it
Don't blame me you didn't get it

I already told you that falling is easy
It's getting back up that becomes the problem
Becomes the problem
If you don't believe you can find a way out
You've become the problem
Become the problem

You
All alone
Are you waiting for someone to make you whole?
Can't you see?
Aren't you tired of this dysfunctional routine?

Don't blame me you didn't get it
Don't blame me you didn't get it
Don't blame me you didn't get it

I already told you that falling is easy
It's getting back up that becomes the problem
Becomes the problem
If you don't believe you can find a way out
You've become the problem
Become the problem

I already told you that falling is easy
It's getting back up that becomes the problem
Becomes the problem
If you don't believe you can find a way out
You've become the problem
Become the problem

Falling is easy
It's getting back up that becomes the problem
Becomes the problem
And if you believe you can find a way out
Then you've solved the problem
You've solved your problem

It's Not as Easy as It Looks

On television, people are always cutting or stabbing others or themselves. On Supernatural, Dean has cut open his forearm a number of times - such as to attract vampires or prove he isn't a shapeshifter or whatever. And he just takes his huge knife and runs it across his arm horizontally and bright red blood begins to flow. In the book I just read, Second Glance by Jodi Picoult, several of the characters have cut themselves in a variety of places for a variety of reasons.

I have, as I have admitted before, been known to cut myself. (Although to the best of my knowledge, I have never tried to attract a vampire or been accused of being a shapeshifter.) Let me tell you - cutting isn't as easy as Dean makes it look. Perhaps it would help if I had a special effects team and some corn syrup but that kinda defeats the whole point. Maybe I just need a sharper knife but one would think that an Exacto craft knife would be sharp enough.

And yet it takes a remarkable amount of pressure to actually cut deep enough to draw blood. I find it infuriating. The hard part is not the desire to cause damage - that's the easiest part. It isn't some kind of self-preservation instinct - the closest I come to that is making sure I don't get caught. It's just applying enough pressure to do damage. Perhaps, like so many other things in my life, I am just not doing it right...

What I find ironic is that I have such a hard time doing actual damage and yet a slip of a paper gives me a nasty, bleeding papercut. *rolls eyes*

Value vs Worth

value: 1. relative worth, merit, or importance: the value of a college education; the value of a queen in chess (Dictionary.com)

as opposed to

worth: 4. excellence of character or quality as commanding esteem: women of worth.
5. usefulness or importance, as to the world, to a person, or for a purpose: Your worth to the world is inestimable.
6. value, as in money.

The Shrink and I debated today whether a person's value can be changed and/or changed by others. The comparison was how I value myself as opposed to how I value my children. During our discussion, I remained undecided and mostly listened to his thoughts and tried to process my own. If I understood correctly, it is his view that everyone is born with inherent value and the only way to reduce our value is to deliberately hurt other people or to believe it when others tell you you have less value.

I thought about this a lot. Then some more. And then a little bit more. In my head, I decided that there is a difference between value and worth, even though the above definitions would indicate they are basically synonyms. Here are my thoughts...

Value is the inherent worth a person has just by being a person. No one has to earn value. No one's value can increase or decrease. Even the most sadistic and evil person has the same inherent value as the holiest of saints. I guess that I see a person's value as the unconditional love that God has for all of us. Just like there is nothing my children can do to make me love them any more or any less, there is nothing we, as humans, can do to make God love us any more or less - and that is our value.

Worth, on the other hand, is how much we influence the world around us for better or worse. As a person contributes positively to the world, their worth increases. As they do damage, it decreases. If they fail to do good where they had the ability and opportunity, it decreases their worth. If they do their absolute best and fail to make a change, their worth increases. Intentions matter in the arena of worth, they matter a lot. Results matter as well.

So I think that a person's worth is a fluid thing. Someone who has done truly terrible things can make up for it and rebuild their worth. Conversely, someone who did great things can destroy it all. It is also dependent on perspective. A person may see themselves at a higher or lower worth than someone else. And different people may see the person with varying levels of worth. Even looking at the same objective facts, different subjective worths can be assigned based on the individual perceptions of each fact.

I guess that means the short answer, in my view, is that value is who we are and worth is what we do...

Nickels, Dimes and $500 Bills

In the midst of a financial crunch that will only get worse before it gets better, Kid-2 got a nasty cavity. We already owe The Dentist close to $1300 but as he is a friend of Hubby's family and we have been seeing him Hubby's entire life, he has kindly not sent us to collections. However, he is in a business, not a charity, and required a substantial payment on our account in order to see her. If we had gone elsewhere, we would have had to pay more and see a stranger and all kinds of other complications. So off we went to The Dentist. Three hours and $500 later... And believe me, we did not have an extra $500 to pay The Dentist. I drained the last of our savings plus an additional $250. Ouch.

Indeed, I was going through the online bank statements yesterday, trying to determine where our money is going. According to the budget I made up in my head, we should be doing just fine. But on the contrary, I have no idea how I will be able to pay both mortgages and the electric this month. So I'm looking at this and there aren't any big things coming out that aren't accounted for in my mental budget.

BUT --- there were a bazillion little charges here and there. $5 at McDonald's, $10 at the grocery, $7 dollars at another fast food place... Things of this nature. I truly didn't realize how much is actually being debited for lunches and the occasional pizza night. The other big killer is the overdraft fees. At $30 a pop, I am still grateful the items get paid but they come at a steep price and one that generates a vicious circle of fees and negative balances.

So the plan now is to tighten the budget and clamp down on debit purchases and set some limits with the kids and myself. I cannot impose them on Hubby as it will either get completely ignored or send him into a grouchy spiral and guilt-trips. But soon he will be gone and almost all of his expenses will be covered for a little while. (I think.)

The good news is that there are places to tighten our belts. This is not a hopeless cause. It may be uncomfortable, but it is not impossible. In theory at any rate...

I Am Not a God!

I simply do not understand why I seem to be the only person in my life that can keep up with the schedules we have. It's not like I do that much or get that much done. Mostly it's a matter of having the car in the right place at the right time. And yet my family is incapable of filling in for me, even occasionally. From what I've heard, when I was in the hospital last December it took 3 people to keep track of our schedule including one working full time, one working part time and one not employed at all.

Last week I tried to get Hubby to do the first round of school drop-offs. He couldn't get it done, several things got skipped and he was very frustrated by it all. Same with Baby-Mommy. I needed her to do the second round of drop-offs one day so I could go to physical therapy. By the time I got back, she was fuming mad at my kids and declared our mornings impossible. And that was just one half of just mornings. That didn't include any of the rest of the day.

WTF?!

I am not a god here, people. The schedule isn't that unbearable. I can't seem to make myself do the rest of the stuff that needs done, but even the small amount I do get to is apparently too much to ask of anyone. So I'm wondering if they are wimps or if I am a poor judge of what if complicated.

Mornings go like this:

6:00 - Alarm, wake up Hubby
6:20 - second alarm, wake up and poke and prod Hubby
6:30 - alarm, begin growling and snarling at Hubby so he actually gets up
6:50 - get up and dressed
- Kid-2's BFF arrives
6:55 - wake up Kid-1,
- check to make sure Kid-2 is up
- see if Kid-3 or Kid-4 want to get up yet
7:00 - say rude things to Kid-1, threaten to refuse to take him to school if he doesn't get up and stomp out of room frustrated
7:10 - yell up the stairs for Kid-1 to get up, remind to do bathroom basics
- remind Kid-2 to eat and do bathroom basics
- ingest large quantities of caffeine
7:15 - remind Kid-1 to take medicine
- see if Kid-2 has homework and if anything needs signed
7:20 - 10 minute warning, growl about anything not done
7:30 - check backpacks, coats, cell phones, lunch money, instruments, etc
- head to car
7:35 - take Kid-1 and Kid-2 to school.
- check after school activity schedule in car, remind of any appointments or weird schedule stuff
7:50 - wake up Kid-3 and/or Kid-4 if not up
8:00 - fuss about clothes that are clean AND match AND are okay for the weather
8:05 - check homework is done, signed and in backpacks, put backpacks by door
8:10 - fuss about breakfast and bathroom basics (20 minute warning)
8:15 - 15 minute warning, check for matching socks and appropriate shoes
8:20 - 10 minute warning, wake up Kid-2's BFF (asleep on couch)
8:25 - 5 minute warning, check coats, bookbags, homework, lunch money, papers
8:30 - head towards car (break up fights over who is sitting where)
8:50 - morning is done!

See? It isn't that tough and it all lines up neatly. At this point, if I am lucky, Baby will go back to sleep before Baby-Mommy leaves to go work out or study or therapy or whatever she is doing that morning. If she does go back to sleep, so can I.

Now, I will admit that afternoons get sticky. On any given day there are school pick-ups at 2:45, 3:15, 3:25, 3:30, 3:45 or 4:00. Every day at 4:00, snack time and play time are over. Homework must be done. Chores must be done. And afternoon medicines must be dispensed. Evening activities change each day:

Monday: Kid-1 volunteers at the library from 3 - 5
Kid-2 choir leave house at 4:25 for 4:45 drop-off. Pick up again at 6:30, returning home about 7.

Tuesday: Kid-3 has choir with Kid-2's BFF. (Leave house at 4:30) Pick up at 6, returning home about 6:45
Kid-1 has Boy Scouts from 7 - 8:30

Wednesdays: Kid-2 has gymnastics, leave house at 7:30 return home about 9.

Thursdays: Kid-3 and Kid-4 both have gymnastics at 5:15 immediately followed by Cub Scouts at 6:30. Leave house at 5, return about 8.

Fridays: extra late pick up for Kid-2 from school at 4:30/5.

So, yeah, evenings get a little complicated, trying to figure out when to get who and who to leave the others with and when to make and eat dinner. But it falls into a routine and it isn't that big of a deal. With all the rushing here and there, I don't get much housework done. I am just too tired, and my day is too fragmented and I am seriously low on motivation. So Baby-Mommy keeps telling me to make them quit activities and Hubby says he can't possibly do a schedule like that.

What they don't seem to understand is that the running isn't an issue for me. It makes me feel good to have them happily involved in activities and knowing that I can help with that. Everyone says they are so willing to help but all they are willing to help with is the driving. That's the one part I do like. If someone really wants to help, they should do some laundry or watch Baby while I go grocery shopping, or help orchestrate Family Cleaning Day. But that's not what they want to do and I am not willing to give up the parts I enjoy to replace them with things I despise.

Bottom Line: I don't care what they say, my husband is leaving me in a week and a half and I am about to become a single parent. And all I want to do is sleep...

List of Things I'm Going to Whine About

I don't have enough time right now to complete the posts that are mulling about in my head. But I need to vent a little so I am going to do micro-posts in this one...

I Am Not A God! The things I do around here I do every single day. Each of my four kids has a minimum of 2 extra-curricular activities. I watch Baby a lot. And I have a couple of websites that I have to do daily maintenance for. It's exhausting. It's frustrating because it never ends and everything never gets done. But it is completely possible to do the things I do (not counting the things I don't do). So why is it that the last time I was in the hospital it took THREE PEOPLE just to do what I do every day? Why is it that given the same amount of time and resources as I am, a detailed list of what needs to get done and extra cooperation from the kids... neither Hubby nor Baby-Mommy could run even the morning routine? I'm not a god. So why can't they do most of the stuff I do?

Nickel and Diming: I am trying to set up a better budget. We are drowning and by my calculations, we shouldn't be. I am about to drop $500 to take Kid-2 to the dentist and I have no idea where it is going to come from. I was looking over our online bank statements and I can't believe the number of pissy little debit charges. Lunch here, quick grocery run there, hardware store, fundraiser products, haircuts..... these little charges are adding up quickly and I don't know how to reduce them without treating Hubby like a child.

Slash and Burn: The suicidal urges are so strong. But they are effectively blocked. This means they are building up like a fast river unnaturally dammed. Cutting and burning sound so reasonable. Punish the flesh for the sins of the soul. I have such violent imagery in my head the majority of the time. The only thing stopping me is the fear of what would happen if I were to be found out. Because I'm not doing things like this for attention. I'm doing them for revenge and punishment. The water is rising behind the dam. A flood is coming...

WHOA! I have curly hair!

My hair was very long. It reached down to the middle of my back, about 4 inches below the bra line in back. My split ends had split ends who also had split ends. I have been talking about getting my hair cut for close to a year. I was going to get it done on my birthday, along with the tattoo I've been wanting since high school. But we had no money so I didn't do either. I have been talking about getting my hair cut short ever since then.

Like so many things, I think about it, plan it, picture it, imagine every little detail of it - but do nothing. Then all the sudden one day, without telling anyone first, I will go and do the thing I have silently been contemplating for so long. It leads people to think I am very impulsive since I rarely share my background processing with anyone as I stew over it in the back of my mind for months. To others it looks like I just up and decide to go do something as drastic as cutting off 13 inches of hair.

Yup. Thirteen inches I had cut off this morning. And it is still about an inch below my chin. I had enough cut off that I could donate it to Locks of Love. That felt really good. And so far, almost everyone loves it. The kids raved about it. Hubby practically gushed over it. Baby-Mommy was shocked but decided she likes it. My mother and I squeed over it. (She says it makes me look 10 years younger.) Daddy doesn't like short hair but said it looks good anyways (very high praise coming from him). The only one to not like it is Hubby's-BFF. He really likes long hair and really dislikes short hair. Oh well. He's not my Hubby or my boss and we all love it.

The thing that surprised me is that when I washed out the straightener gunk the hair place put into it - it got all curly! MY hair is curly when left to its own devices. Before, the ends were too spilt and damaged to curl nicely and the rest was too heavy and pulled the curl right out. But now that all that weight is gone and my hair is healthy and happy, it's positively curly.

I actually rather like it. Still getting used to it, but I like it. So far, no one that I am around frequently has failed to notice it. I am curious to see if The Shrink will notice. Sometimes I feel like I am nothing but a chart to him and if he doesn't notice, that feeling will be confirmed. I do hope he notices. It's discouraging to acknowledge the inherent fact that he is much more important to me than I will ever be to him (and rightfully so).

I had a dream over the weekend where several people that I am nothing special to ended up, in the course of some really bizarre events, telling me that I am special to them and always have been. I woke up horrendously embarrassed but with warm fuzzies. It's ironic that I work so hard to be invisible yet almost silently cry out for people to notice me. It's like I want to see if I am special/important/good enough for people to take the extra step to see through my invisibility cloak. I know with my head this is illogical and unreasonable, but the urge is still there.

But now the urge is to go to sleep!

Just One Thing

I have 1,000 Little White Pills and 1,000 reasons to take them. I have said in the past that I also have 1,000 reasons to NOT take them. What I didn't say is that those of those 1,000 reasons, only 3 or 4 even hold any weight. Of those 3 or 4, only one carries enough weight to keep those 1,000 pills in their bottles: I don't want to destroy my children.

I was reading a book that was a practitioner's guide to pathological grief in children. (Basically that is grief that is big enough to interfere in the children's life.) I have known for a very long time that having a parent that commits suicide increases a child's likelihood of committing suicide themselves by astronomical proportions. But in reading the chapter on helping these children cope with the suicide death of a parent... wow. It is so much bigger, stronger, harder, more painful and more permanent than I had imagined.

I'm sure Hubby, my parents, my Guardian Angel and Baby-Mommy would all be hurt if I were to swallow my little white pills but frankly I think they would recover. I think a few of them, after the initial shock, would actually be relieved to not have to deal with my BS melodrama anymore. I think it would break my mother. It might take the others a while to move on, though not too long. I doubt any of them could ever forgive me.

But the children... the damage to them would never quite go away. It would set them up for a lifetime of severe emotional problems. I can't do that to them. I already feel like I am failing them in so many horrid ways. I can't add that to their plate, no matter how desperately I want it.

So, in the end, of those 1,000 reasons not to take my 1,000 little white pills... only one of them matters. I would do anything for my children. Including live.

God Grant Me the Serenity

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change,
The strength to change the things I cannot accept,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

The Shrink has had me on edge, to the point of paranoia, about leaving Hubby and Baby-Mommy alone together for fear of their misbehaving. He has a point. This has happened before with Hubby and a girl that was living with us. And Baby-Mommy's judgement regarding her romantic relationships has been known to be questionable at best. All of my instincts tell me this is not a threat but The Shrink has some incredibly intuitions about things that surprise the heck out of me.

So I've been spazzing a bit. I've been staying up later than I want just to not leave them alone. I've been having nightmares and nightmarish daydreams about what could happen. The fear has been gnawing at me constantly, intensifying any time I see either of them.

I can't live like this.

This week I have been really struggling with Hubby's imminent departure. He will be gone for SIX WEEKS and I am really struggling with this. One of the things that has me upset is that I won't be there to make sure he doesn't stray. He will have every opportunity and I will have no way of finding out.

Last night, after I had taken a handful of little white pills and was waiting for the relaxation to kick in, it occurred to me if he is going to do something, he is going to do something and there is nothing I can do about it. Following this line of thinking, I realized that the same, ultimately, is true of him and Baby-Mommy. If something is going to happen, they could find a way to make it happen. It is true that leaving them alone at night under the same roof increases the possibility of something happening but there is a much greater chance of something happening while he is gone at training.

Que sera sera!

If he is going to cheat on me, he is going to cheat on me. I'm done babysitting them. I just don't care. If it happens it happens. I don't think they would do that to me, to each other. But if they do.... que sera sera.

What's Wrong?

I love how people have taken to assessing my mood. I think we all do it to others to some degree, size a person up when we see them to determine how they are feeling which in turn determines how we behave. But most people, most of the time, keep the results of these observations to themselves.

Not around me lately. It's like people feel the need to tell me how I'm feeling, in case I don't know or something. What I find most amusing is that everyone except my bff, Baby-Mommy, seem to be wrong almost all of the time. But this is good as the comments I generally get are, "You sound good today." and "You look like you're in a good mood." and "You look good today." This is good because that means the face I put on for others is working. Most of the time I just smile and give an indication that they are correct without actually confirming it.

Baby-Mommy, on the other hand, takes one look at me and says things like, "What's wrong?" or "Rough day?" or "Hang in there, it's only 7 in the morning." This morning she greeted me with, "Not so grumpy today, huh? You look too tired to care." And she was dead on. It's ironic how well she knows my moods. She predicted every single crash I've had since she moved up here. (Which makes me nervous as she seems to think I am headed for one now.)

What makes this ironic is that Baby-Mommy doesn't do social cues very well. She rarely knows when she's crossed those fluid and invisible boundaries people set up. She is too open with some people and not open enough with others, she hasn't learned how to play the game of knowing what approach to take with people. She has zero respect for people's time and when she makes a faux pas there, doesn't know how to handle it appropriately. She does fine in a business setting between agent and customer but as soon as social aspects get involved, she gets a bit hazy.

And yet she reads me like I'm an open book. I cannot, no matter how hard I try, bullshit her about my mood. She may have no idea why I am in the mood that I am in, but she can correctly identify it. This gets sticky when I am trying to pretend I am fine and actually am not. It provokes the question:

What's wrong?

That is quite possibly the most evil question in all of the English language. (Although "Where do you want to go for lunch?" comes in a close second. *evil wink*) I can't actually tell people what is really going on. The consequences are unacceptable. If I tell Baby-Mommy that I am a few steps below depressed, having to work very hard to keep from doing some serious physical harm to myself and trying to figure out when in the crazy schedule of my life would be the best time for me to drug myself into a stupor and lamenting the fact that I can't just finish the job because of my kids but I am counting the minutes until they are gone so I can just die............... Yeah. That wouldn't go over so well. Let's look at what each of those items would provoke.

a few steps below depressed: This would lead to a discussion of why, which involves a great deal of self-loathing. She would then offer up a slew of compliments to get me to not hate myself, none of which I would believe. Then I would feel more guilty for not feeling better.

having to work very hard to keep from doing some serious physical harm to myself: First it would worry the hell out of her. Then she would go into protective mode and put measures in place to prevent me from being able to hurt myself. This would certainly involve not letting me stay up by myself or go anywhere by myself. It may even go so far as to trying to get a fucking babysitter for me instead of me babysitting Baby. And she would tell Hubby. Hubby would flat out freak and debate whether or not he can/should go away to train school. Then, not only would I not be able to get the satisfaction of seeing damage done to my body, I would have everyone stressed out.

trying to figure out when in the crazy schedule of my life would be the best time for me to drug myself into a stupor: First, she would tell Hubby, who would freak and do the whole train debate. Then she/they would take my pills away. And lock them up. And I would have to ask for my pills like a 3 year old. Grrr.

lamenting the fact that I can't just finish the job because of my kids but I am counting the minutes until they are gone so I can just die: This would create the biggest problems of them all. I don't even tell The Shrink that I feel this way. Everyone would go into panic mode. I would get endless lectures on the reasons that I shouldn't kill myself now or later. And there is a good chance that they would try to hospitalize me. If that happens, there is an equally good chance they would ship me down to the state mental hospital for 3 - 6 months or more.

That absolutely CANNOT happen. While a small part of me thinks that the time away would give me perspective and let me get my head on straight, the rest of me knows that I would not, will not, cannot let that happen. I've seen what happens when I'm not here - they can't keep things going with the kids. And everyone stresses out beyond their capacity. Plus the cost. Plus the fact that Hubby would refuse to go away to train school. And the damage it would do to the kids. And my mother. And the trust I will never again regain from my family. It is simply not an option.

So... what's wrong?

I'm just tired. I have a headache. Kids are driving me nuts. I'm worried about money. I don't feel good. Or my personal favorite - Nothing. (Followed by a swift change of the subject onto something that has to be handled to avoid coming back to it.)

Deify by Disturbed

Whoa. I always get this tune stuck in my head... "Deeeee-ify yooooou!" I decided to look up the lyrics tonight. They are anti-Bush. I don't do politics so I immediately read something completely different into them. I don't want to spell out what it was, but I had some pretty intense flashbacks just now.... It's so - HIM! (*runs off to cower in a corner*)

"Deify"

Man1: That's what I believe got him re-elected, is the people knew that you could believe what he said
Man2: Well, that's a repressive comment
Bush: Our country is strong
Man3: But how many people march, it's like going to...
Bush: We go forward to defend freedom
Man4: ...the government's side
Bush: And all that is good, and just, in our world

All my devotion betrayed
I am no longer afraid
I was too blinded to see
How much you've stolen from me

You want to know why I feel so horrified?
I've let my innocence die
You want to know why I can't be pacified?
You made me bury something
I won't be sleeping tonight

I only wanted a blessing made
Now I've been labeled a renegade
It seems so clear now what I must do
You're no immortal
I won't let them
Deify you
They view you as the new messiah
Deify you
Renew belief in some demented man

You want to know why it seems the passion's died?
We've all been living this lie
You want to know why my will's been fortified?
You've made me hunger again
Good luck sleeping tonight

I only wanted a blessing made
Now I've been labeled a renegade
It seems so clear now what I must do
You're no immortal
I won't let them
Deify you
They view you as the new messiah
Deify you
Renew belief in some demented man

All my devotion betrayed
I am no longer afraid
I was too blinded to see
How much you've stolen from me

Deify you
They view you as the new messiah
Deify you
Renew belief in some demented man

When You're Gone

I've been behind you all the way, supporting your pursuit of this job with the railroad. I know why it is so important for us. We need the benefits badly and a stable income in this faltering economy will hopefully keep us from going under.

And I think this change will be good for you, too. You've been at this job for too many years with too few changes. You have nowhere to go there - there is no advancement potential - and the boss not only takes you for granted, he makes your job more difficult than it needs to be. The railroad is nothing like that. It's something new and different all the time, yet familiar also. And who hasn't had, at some point, the urge to just jump on a train (or similar) and take off?

It won't be easy for you. First you have to go be isolated away from everyone and everything you know and be expected to read and study and focus. Whether you have a job or not depends on your success here and I know you will feel the stress of it. Once you do get back, you will have some major adjustments ahead of you. Our family will have learned how to operate on our own, without you. You will be in and out and unable to schedule anything with any degree of certainty. But most of all, your sleep is about to become random and chaotic and that is not something you have ever dealt with well. Still, I think, with time, we will all adjust to this and get into a pattern of behaviors that mostly work.

I have supported you on every step of this journey. It is very clear that I am the only person who sees at least as many negatives in this as positives. So I have adopted an optimistic demeanor about it, stocking up on things to say to people when they ask. I tried the honesty route, telling people I'm scared to death of this. It backfired. It led to endless pep talks and listing of the positives involved. I already know those and don't need them repeated to me again.

It is so much easier to give people what they want than what they think they want. They don't want to know how I'm doing. They want to know that I am doing well. They don't want to know how I feel about this. They want to know that I am looking forward to it. Answering the questions people ask (inevitably and without exception) leads to an invalidation of my personal truth. The very best I can expect is a joke about it but most often, people will try to convince me of the answer they want to hear. And I end up feeling that I am bad and wrong (and all those other adjectives that fill my head) for not feeling how they want me to.

The truth of this particular matter is that I am still (and always have been) scared to tears. I am an extremely selfish individual with very a strong lazy streak. And while I see all the positives this may bring, I also see all the things it will destroy and/or take away. And, to me, those weigh heavily on my mind and heart.

The big things are obvious...

You will be completely gone for 6 weeks including Thanksgiving, the kids' first choir concert, Kid-4's birthday, your birthday, and the scout popcorn sales you said you'd handle. We haven't been apart for longer than 2 weeks since we got together 16 years ago. To use a cheesy cliche/quote: You complete me.

I have no idea how this is going to work financially. You just told me that we will not have health coverage for 3 months after you start. You said we'll do COBRA and I have no idea how we can possibly afford that. We can't meet our bills now, even with the substantial help we get from my parents.

There is no way logistically or practically that I could get a job to make ends meet until things come together. Do you even know how far behind we are? Your "salary" during training will be less than what you take home now, even considering the difference in health insurance and deductions. Once you get home, you will be on "training pay" which is still right at what you bring home now and not enough to get us caught up on everything that will have fallen even farther behind.

Expenses are likely to go up significantly. Your truck is on it's last breath - something will have to be done about it soon. Gas costs are going to rise for us with your driving so far to the train yard. Your lunch costs are going to go up as you will have to be getting many more meals out. I am trying to get us eating better and that is rising those costs, though my parents are footing most of that. We will need to pay for your cell phone now that work won't be covering it. You want to do something about a movie rental thing so you can watch movies on your laptop while you're gone - that's going to be a near impossibility.

And there are the extras... The kids need winter clothes. Kid-4's birthday is coming up. We have a big party planned for his birthday and your going away. We have our overnight guest coming for a week this month. And this big one, the one I am most worried about: Christmas.

They are already losing their father this Christmas as you will more likely than not be working on Christmas. I hate for them to lose the style of Christmas to which they are accustomed as well. Kid-4 still believes in the magical, come-down-the-chimney, media version of Santa Claus. He won't understand why last year Santa brought tons of stuff and this year Santa barely visits at all.

Those are the big things. I'm worried about money. I'm worried about being overwhelmed with everything I have to do basically on my own. I'm worried that I will fall apart and there will be no one there to catch me. I'm worried that we will suffer as a family and as a couple from the distance and time. I'm worried about all these changes at once.

But there are a thousand little things too.

When you're gone, who will hold me in the middle of the night after a nightmare without asking me what it was about? When you're gone, who will call me every day at lunchtime just to see how I'm doing? When you're gone, who will quote movies back and forth with me? When you're gone, who will give me long tight hugs for absolutely no reason just because I need a hug? When you're gone, who will smile indulgently while I babble? When you're gone, who will always know how to fix anything from the computers to the cars? When you're gone, who will take kids places on Saturday mornings so I can sleep? When you're gone, who will talk to people on the phone so that I don't have to? When you're gone, who will cover for me when I have a headache? When you're gone, who will help me figure out what to do about a problem with the kids? When you're gone, who will tell me they are just normal siblings when I don't know because I've never been there? When you're gone, who will force us to do Family Cleaning Day when I want to skip it so bad I ache? When you're gone, who will get angry and frustrated at people doing things so that I don't have to feel those emotions? When you're gone, who will tell me I'm beautiful, know it isn't true, but really believe it anyway? When you're gone, who will tell me it's going to be okay, without having any clue how, and have me actually believe it?

Please, God! Let me wake up from this horrible nightmare or go to sleep and never wake up!!! I don't wanna be here anymore.

1,000 Little White Pills

***NOTE: I DO NOT ADVOCATE SUICIDE FOR ANYONE FOR ANY REASON. IF YOU ARE FEELING SUICIDAL, PLEASE CALL 911 OR YOUR DOCTOR OR A FRIEND OR ANYONE WHO CAN HELP YOU THROUGH THIS DIFFICULT TIME.***

1 little white pill calms down the trembling in my hands from the Lexapro.

2 little white pills heads off most panic attacks

3 little white pills make me calm

4 little white pills make me relaxed

5 - 8 little white pills make me not give a shit

8 - 10 little white pills let me fall asleep quickly and stay that way for a while

10 - 15 little white pills send me to a place in my head where everything is soft. It also causes amnesia and concerning behavior for 24 - 36 hours.

15 - 20 little white pills will very likely land me in the psych ward as I cannot hide that I took them.

20 - 25 little white pills will land me in the medical hospital

25+ little white pills will put me on a respirator

25+ little white pills plus a few other types will put me into a coma

25+ little white pills plus a few specific pills will kill me

It took me years of pushing the envelope a little bit at a time to figure out these thresholds. By the time I did, I realized that I cannot take this path. The damage it would do to my children would be profound and irreversible, quite possibly fatal. The damage it would do to other loved ones is huge and devastating.

That doesn't stop me from wanting to do it.

The "Happies" are gone and I am sinking fast. I had a day of the controlled-energy-annoyingly-hyper stage. I have gone through the sleep-to-catch-up phase. I went through the hey-where's-my-energy-but-still-okay part in only about 6 hours. I had a full and intense day of don't-mess-with-me-or-I'll-bite-your-head-off mood. (That sucked.) I am now in the crying-because-I-don't-wanna-do-this-anymore phase. If my past pattern repeats itself, I will soon go numb-so-I-don't-have-to-hurt and that will drop into despair and then sink further into I-don't-even-have-the-energy-to-be-depressed.

Right now, I keep finding myself standing in the kitchen in front of the medication baskets that keep the family's prescriptions organized. I stare at my bottles of little white pills. I don't touch them, not yet, though I will probably end up with a bottle in my pocket within the next couple of days. I just stare at the bottles and imagine the sinking, relaxing feeling of taking so many of them that I lose count. I breathe deeply and remember the strange sensation of forgetting to breathe and the step further of forgetting to breathe and forgetting that I've forgotten and really not caring at all. I can almost feel the way the room spins in slow, blurry revolutions interrupted by long, dark grey blinks.

And then I realize that there are tears on my cheeks. I am so frustrated. I try and I try and I try and I do so much but when I look at what I've done, there is still so much to do. I've barely made a dent. It seems so wrong that simply living life should be so very difficult for me to do. All I want is to close my eyes and have them not open again. Even my very best is not enough and I don't think it ever will be.

I am allowed to take 4 little white pills a day. They are very low dose (.5 mg) so I don't get addicted to them. I almost never take all 4. Right now, I take 1 in the morning, every morning, because otherwise my hands are so shaky my handwriting, typing and other fine motor skills are impaired. I will take others as needed. I am very confident that I am not now, nor am I in danger of becoming, addicted to them. Most days, I only take 1 or 2 and before the Lexapro, I took 1 or less a day.

But I get them filled every month without fail. And I have been doing this for a very long time.

I sat down (mentally) and figured it up one day. By my calculation, I have somewhere between 1,000 and 1,500 little white pills. There is absolutely no good reason for having that many little white pills on hand unless one intends to do something rather permanent. I know this. But I won't get rid of them, even though I have taken suicide off the table until my children are grown and have flown the nest.

Somehow, having 1,000 little white pills on hand makes me feel a little less trapped. I know there is a fire escape and, even though I don't plan on using it, it is there, like a security blanket tucked away in the closet. I'm not using them, but I know they are there, just in case.

And so I stand at the counter, and I look at my bottles and I wish it were an option. I go through it all in my head, the feelings and thoughts and sensations. I wish I could talk to someone about it that wouldn't freak out and throw me in the psych ward, or tell me to get rid of them, or give me The Lecture about all I have to live for and blah blah blah.

I don't need The Lecture. I have 1,000 little white pills...... and 1,000 reasons to not take them.

But oh how I wish I could!

Mania - How Can Good Be Bad???

Yesterday The Shrink told me that he hopes I am not going into a manic phase but that if I could maintain this mood that we could talk about me seeing him less often. (See? Told you I feel good!)

Then my family and friends started to spazz and say I was acting manic. And that sucked. But I don't care because I feel GREAT.

So last night I slept about 3 or 4 hours or so, give or take. And I was SOOOO cheerful today. By the time got to The MedShrink's office, I was jamming to the music and had that buzzy feeling in my head and I realized that I can do anything I put my mind to. ANYTHING! I couldn't wait to tell him how good everything is.

I had made up a list of what's going good and what's not going good. And Doc asked me if I'm manic and I said no. He read my list and he told me in no uncertain terms that yes, I am manic. And he listed off my list and told me that I read like the DSM-IV. I told him I am NOT manic because I don't want to be manic because I am HAPPY and want to stay that way.

He said I am manic but he's okay with that at this point. But I have to keep an eye out for "warning signs" like hallucinations, risk-taking behaviors, not sleeping at all, excessive disorganization and stuff like that. Whatever. I don't want to be manic - I just FEEL GOOD! Things are going to be okay - I know they will - and that feels good.

Baby-Mommy was on my case tonight about how every time I go manic, I end up in the hospital from an overdose and I couldn't convince her that I'm not manic - I'M HAPPY!
Why can't I just be happy? Why does everyone have to freak out when things start going RIGHT? How can feeling this good be that bad???

"I think you too, should practice some excessive happiness." -Patch Adams

IT'S ALIIIIIIIIIIVE!!!!

Guess what? I feel GOOD. Actually, I feel great! I have energy and I'm getting things done and I can see that I do to have strengths! I need to work on cleaning a bit more but I've been cooking and babysitting and database programming and story plotting... Two days in a row I haven't even wanted to go back to bed after kids get off (which is good cuz I couldn't have either day LOL). I feel strong and confident and optimistic.

Things really are going to be okay. I don't know or when but we will get there. The light at the end of the tunnel may be (literally) a train, but it's the Express Train to A Better Life. I really believe that. I don't know how it's going to happen - money is such a mess - but we will find a way.

"If there is one thing the history of evolution has taught us it's that life will not be contained. Life breaks free, expands to new territory, and crashes through barriers, painfully, maybe even dangerously...... Life will find a way." Dr. Ian Malcolm - Jurassic Park