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Being In South Sucks Right Now....A lot
I was on vacation last week.
And I went to Band Camp. And to my knowledge it wasn't like the movie.
It was hot. And sticky. And sweaty.
I am so proud of my daughter. The temperature was well over 95 for several days and with the humidity it felt like....I don't know what it felt like. Let's just say it was sticky, sweaty and hot and I know - beyond a shadow of any doubt I would have quit - I couldn't have handled being in the sun. Sitting under the tent was bad enough.
I also met an inspirational woman last week. *J* is 35 and was diagnosed with breast cancer about a year ago. She's gone through surgery and chemo. She's lucky though - she's made it through to the other side. And with perky new boobs. That seems like the least that God could do for her since she also gained 20 pounds while going through chemo. I told her that was SO not fair in so many ways. Gain weight and have cancer? Not cool God. Not cool at all.
This week I'm at work and my daughter is still at camp. For 12 hours a day. I'm really not too sure what they do for 12 hours a day but I guess it super important because apparently they are entertained.
Still though...it's hot, and sticky, and sweaty.
This weekend I also took the girls school shopping. I think that, along with putting zoloft into every divorcing woman's coffee each day to allow for that blissful "I don't care what is happening around me because life is...mellow", school shopping is also best done sedated. If sedated you don't want to scream at them "For GODSAKE find SOMETHING that you like!". Instead you would be completely and utterly blissful in their lack of finding something as you go from store, to store, to store.
In the hot, sticky, and sweaty south.
These are the times I wished I lived in Canada.
And I went to Band Camp. And to my knowledge it wasn't like the movie.
It was hot. And sticky. And sweaty.
I am so proud of my daughter. The temperature was well over 95 for several days and with the humidity it felt like....I don't know what it felt like. Let's just say it was sticky, sweaty and hot and I know - beyond a shadow of any doubt I would have quit - I couldn't have handled being in the sun. Sitting under the tent was bad enough.
I also met an inspirational woman last week. *J* is 35 and was diagnosed with breast cancer about a year ago. She's gone through surgery and chemo. She's lucky though - she's made it through to the other side. And with perky new boobs. That seems like the least that God could do for her since she also gained 20 pounds while going through chemo. I told her that was SO not fair in so many ways. Gain weight and have cancer? Not cool God. Not cool at all.
This week I'm at work and my daughter is still at camp. For 12 hours a day. I'm really not too sure what they do for 12 hours a day but I guess it super important because apparently they are entertained.
Still though...it's hot, and sticky, and sweaty.
This weekend I also took the girls school shopping. I think that, along with putting zoloft into every divorcing woman's coffee each day to allow for that blissful "I don't care what is happening around me because life is...mellow", school shopping is also best done sedated. If sedated you don't want to scream at them "For GODSAKE find SOMETHING that you like!". Instead you would be completely and utterly blissful in their lack of finding something as you go from store, to store, to store.
In the hot, sticky, and sweaty south.
These are the times I wished I lived in Canada.
Why My Children Are Destined To Be In Therapy
Today I'm joining Anna over at ABDPBT with List Monday. I found Anna the way most of us find blogs to follow, you latch onto a certain blog and then, much like a spider, you fan out to see what that person reads and volia! Your blog list just grew by 20.
I'm not quite sure that 'spider' is a complement however 'stalking' sounds much less appealing.
Anyway, getting back to the task at hand, one of the things that Anna's blog has is snarky. Lots and lots of snark. Which makes me laugh. And I like. And I desperately need at this point.
Why I'm Destined To Have Children In Therapy
1. I don't cater to their every need. Sometimes they just need to learn to suck it up and move on. I consider this a good lesson towards getting along at work someday because honestly? They call it work because hello...it's not called vacation.
2. I expect them to help out with their siblings. No, I don't expect them to mother them but I do expect that they will look out for each other. Apparently in today's society that equates to being a family, which is an outdated concept.
3. I let them suffer their own conquences. (Okay, I'm working on this but I'm totally adding it because it sucks.) Forget an assignment for the 3rd time this semester? Well, you get to work out an agreeable solution with your teacher. And no, it cannot mean you get a zero.
4. I will embarrass them if at all possible when they are annoying me. Wanna be snarky and ugly towards me? Well, I'll wait until a time when you are just riding along in the car thinking everything is going great and wham! I'll open the windows and start singing old Journey songs.
If you haven't read ABDPBT take a look and if you look hard enough you'll figure out what it means. :)
Just In Time For The Weekend
So here we are.
The weekend.
I can still remember when weekends started on Thursday and didn't end until....well, sometimes they didn't end - they just started again on Thursday. In past few days I written about how I struggle from time to time and, for today, I can say that TODAY wasn't a day I have struggled. Yet. I still could. But if I do I can just go to bed now and it be somewhat normal. I mean, doesn't everyone periodically go to bed at 8:00?
What I *have* been doing for the past few days is searching back through blogs that are reflective of time in sobriety. Reading posts that remind me how grateful I am of what I have now and about how everyone struggles at times. Doesn't make you different. Or bad. It makes you HUMAN.
One of the blogs I've been reading is Sober Girl. Sober Girl is primarily a blog of inspirational sayings and thoughts. (And as a side note - if you had told me a few years ago that I would be querying through inspirational sayings and thoughts I would have told you that you had lost your mind. But I digress. Progress folks.. Progress.) The one that is standing out right now for me is the entry from June 24 - Forgiving Myself. I still need to remember to give myself a break from time to time. To remember to forgive myself while I am in the process of forgiving everyone else for everything else and to remember that there isn't a one to one forgive you, forgive me that I'm trying to get to so that I am absolved of what I have done in the past.
Will I never *not* be that person?
Will I *ever* not be a writer who has run on sentences and someone who is a comma addict?
Ever?
But, for today, I'm in a good place. Right now I'm sitting here with my mini me watching the Good Night Show and Caillou is on. Now, I won't go as far as to say that I'm actually HAPPY about watching Caillou but I will say I sure am happy that I have the chance.
The weekend.
I can still remember when weekends started on Thursday and didn't end until....well, sometimes they didn't end - they just started again on Thursday. In past few days I written about how I struggle from time to time and, for today, I can say that TODAY wasn't a day I have struggled. Yet. I still could. But if I do I can just go to bed now and it be somewhat normal. I mean, doesn't everyone periodically go to bed at 8:00?
What I *have* been doing for the past few days is searching back through blogs that are reflective of time in sobriety. Reading posts that remind me how grateful I am of what I have now and about how everyone struggles at times. Doesn't make you different. Or bad. It makes you HUMAN.
One of the blogs I've been reading is Sober Girl. Sober Girl is primarily a blog of inspirational sayings and thoughts. (And as a side note - if you had told me a few years ago that I would be querying through inspirational sayings and thoughts I would have told you that you had lost your mind. But I digress. Progress folks.. Progress.) The one that is standing out right now for me is the entry from June 24 - Forgiving Myself. I still need to remember to give myself a break from time to time. To remember to forgive myself while I am in the process of forgiving everyone else for everything else and to remember that there isn't a one to one forgive you, forgive me that I'm trying to get to so that I am absolved of what I have done in the past.
Will I never *not* be that person?
Will I *ever* not be a writer who has run on sentences and someone who is a comma addict?
Ever?
But, for today, I'm in a good place. Right now I'm sitting here with my mini me watching the Good Night Show and Caillou is on. Now, I won't go as far as to say that I'm actually HAPPY about watching Caillou but I will say I sure am happy that I have the chance.
Well, that was an airhead moment....
I'm participating in Girl Talk Thursday because baby, I did a dumb, dumb thing at work yesterday.
The day started out the way days do now days when your doing the work of two people instead of one. Meetings, meeting, training, meeting, meeting and of course my *favorite* of all - let's all gather our status and discuss! Yea me!! I was tired. I was rundown and most of all, I was starving by the time 4:00 rolled around. Silly me had scheduled a call for 4 that should take no more than 30 minutes but of course took a good 10 to get started. *And* in a just amazing show of intelligence I scheduled another for 4:30. I worked with my client watching the computer clock as the minutes went by. 4:15, 4:20, 4:25. Frustrated I sent an email to my 4:30 and rescheduled.
FINALLY we got what we were working on to work. I had made the changes needed and then, with apparently no thought, opened email, attached the document, and hit SEND.
Needless to say I almost crapped in the floor at that moment. Instead I just put my head down and hyperventilated. I had sent something that shouldn't be sent. QUICKLY I hit the recall and delete message and by a miracle it worked.
Or at least I think it did.
Question now? Do I call and say, "hey, did I send something to you yesterday that was X client accidently?' Or just leave it alone? I'm choosing leave it alone, crossing my fingers, and hoping for the best.
Yep. Brilliant I know. Sometimes my 14 yr old looks at me like she's wondering how I get up in the morning and get myself to work.
I think she may have a point.
And Now, For The Rest Of The Story
I'm one tired, frustrated, cranky mess. I was out of my medicine for a week and that is totally not acceptable. Worst of all? it's all my fault. It's not like I didn't KNOW that it would happen. What am I? 12? Someone who thinks that the rules don't apply to her? Don't answer that - I'm WORKING on this people. A procastinator? Of course. Interestingly I am only a procastinator when I have not many things to do. Give me more than someone reasonable can handle? I'm ALL over it. But not so busy? Not so interested. Anyone else?
If you relate to any of the above? Well, I don't know what to say other than I feel your pain.
It's times like this when that little voice inside my head starts to question myself. It goes something like this....
Really? I know you SAY that your an alcoholic but really are you? Don't you think that maybe, just maybe, life is more stable thus you would be able to have I don't know, 1 or 2 glasses of chardonnay? Besides everyone makes an ass out of themselves from time to time. It wasn't just you.
Then, *thank god*, the rational voice jumps in with...
Really? Yea, really. Your life is stable ONLY because you aren't drinking uh, I don't know 1 or 2 glasses of Chardonnay that you would cop to. The other 4 or 5 you think you hid? Yeah, not so much. And what? You are back to thinking that Vodka doesn't smell. You are delusional. And what about that everyone makes an ass out of themselves? Yeah, that's true the only part you left out is being ridiculous is one thing it's whole other thing to get so trashed that you go into pass out mode while your eyes are open. (Yes, that really happened to me. At the neighborhood Christmas Party. Yeah, let that one sink in for a moment. We haven't gone to anything else in the neighborhood since. That's me - Miss Good Times. Um no.)
I write this to say that the post I posted yesterday, the one about what I thought Lindsay needed? Yeah, it was full of everything that is bad in recovery.
Thinking that I'm different than someone else?
Thinking that I know what someone should or shouldn't do based on MY experiences?
Yeah, those are the reasons why the little thoughts start to come into my head.
I need to stop.
Anyone else feel the same right now?
If you relate to any of the above? Well, I don't know what to say other than I feel your pain.
It's times like this when that little voice inside my head starts to question myself. It goes something like this....
Really? I know you SAY that your an alcoholic but really are you? Don't you think that maybe, just maybe, life is more stable thus you would be able to have I don't know, 1 or 2 glasses of chardonnay? Besides everyone makes an ass out of themselves from time to time. It wasn't just you.
Then, *thank god*, the rational voice jumps in with...
Really? Yea, really. Your life is stable ONLY because you aren't drinking uh, I don't know 1 or 2 glasses of Chardonnay that you would cop to. The other 4 or 5 you think you hid? Yeah, not so much. And what? You are back to thinking that Vodka doesn't smell. You are delusional. And what about that everyone makes an ass out of themselves? Yeah, that's true the only part you left out is being ridiculous is one thing it's whole other thing to get so trashed that you go into pass out mode while your eyes are open. (Yes, that really happened to me. At the neighborhood Christmas Party. Yeah, let that one sink in for a moment. We haven't gone to anything else in the neighborhood since. That's me - Miss Good Times. Um no.)
I write this to say that the post I posted yesterday, the one about what I thought Lindsay needed? Yeah, it was full of everything that is bad in recovery.
Thinking that I'm different than someone else?
Thinking that I know what someone should or shouldn't do based on MY experiences?
Yeah, those are the reasons why the little thoughts start to come into my head.
I need to stop.
Anyone else feel the same right now?
OMG - A Post, A Post, A Post - And My Thoughts On Lindsay Lohan
Boy, that was a while, wasn't it?
No time no blog, right?
Life here is still going swimmingly. I've only thought about drinking about a hundred thousand times in the last few weeks. I'm in serious need of structure and accountability.
So...
Amanda, meet your accountability partner, BLOG. Your relationship with BLOG is only as good as your effort put in. BLOG cannot write posts for you nor can she follow you each day to remind you.
Moving on....
Lindsay Lohan. What do I think about this? I think that, unfortunately, it's time for her to pay the price for dodging responsiblities. I read on some website that Lindsay didn't really think that the whole 'jail' thing would happen - that her lawyer would 'take care of it' - in other words, she was paying for someone to handle it and by god, it should be handled. Her old lawyer and her parents weren't doing her any favors. Somewhere along the way I truly think her lawyer knew this but was hoping that she would eventually wise up and get with the program.
Unfortunately no.
The sentence handed down by the judge was just in my opinion. In order for her to serve any meaningful time in jail (remember last time she was in for a grand total of 84 minutes) it would take the sentence imposed. Requiring rehab *after* jail only helps to ensure that she will actually be through the majority of the detox so that maybe the help she will get will have some chance of being meaningful.
Being a mom I would be terrifed if she was my child. I would do whatever it takes to get her help. I realize too that I would have to fight the feelings of enabling her to make her happy and perhaps dead versus being a hard ass thus being an enabler to make her happy AND alive. It's just sad that choosing option 2 is just *so* hard sometimes. On paper it looks obvious - but oh, I imagine it's the most difficult thing you would ever do.
No time no blog, right?
Life here is still going swimmingly. I've only thought about drinking about a hundred thousand times in the last few weeks. I'm in serious need of structure and accountability.
So...
Amanda, meet your accountability partner, BLOG. Your relationship with BLOG is only as good as your effort put in. BLOG cannot write posts for you nor can she follow you each day to remind you.
Moving on....
Lindsay Lohan. What do I think about this? I think that, unfortunately, it's time for her to pay the price for dodging responsiblities. I read on some website that Lindsay didn't really think that the whole 'jail' thing would happen - that her lawyer would 'take care of it' - in other words, she was paying for someone to handle it and by god, it should be handled. Her old lawyer and her parents weren't doing her any favors. Somewhere along the way I truly think her lawyer knew this but was hoping that she would eventually wise up and get with the program.
Unfortunately no.
The sentence handed down by the judge was just in my opinion. In order for her to serve any meaningful time in jail (remember last time she was in for a grand total of 84 minutes) it would take the sentence imposed. Requiring rehab *after* jail only helps to ensure that she will actually be through the majority of the detox so that maybe the help she will get will have some chance of being meaningful.
Being a mom I would be terrifed if she was my child. I would do whatever it takes to get her help. I realize too that I would have to fight the feelings of enabling her to make her happy and perhaps dead versus being a hard ass thus being an enabler to make her happy AND alive. It's just sad that choosing option 2 is just *so* hard sometimes. On paper it looks obvious - but oh, I imagine it's the most difficult thing you would ever do.
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