tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80912413439821676782024-02-20T05:30:23.301-08:00Shellby's WorldThings I am learning as I navigate through life Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-6090857691339104442016-07-29T18:29:00.000-07:002016-07-29T18:29:15.088-07:00The Facade is CrackingI have recently been asked by a couple of people if I was angry with them. Had they done or said something wrong. I had no idea what they meant. I hadn't responded to calls or texts. Oh, I said no I was not mad or upset with them. I am fine. (Crack.) No really I am just busy. (Crackle, chunks falling off.)To be honest, I don't respond to most texts. And forget reaching me by phone. My dear friend anxiety and I don't accept phone calls where I have to actually speak to a person! It seems I am not the actress I thought I was. My, "I'm fine" facade is cracking. My inner trueness is showing through the cracks and gaps. You know what? I AM angry. Not with these friends. I am angry with everyone. Everyone who still has their beloved family members, because mine are gone. Everyone who is going about their lives and I am stuck so deep in grief I can barely move. I am angry with my depression and anxiety that keep me from doing things. I am angry that there are days I can't get out of bed or leave my house. I am angry that all I can seem to do is work. At work I can forget everything. I am good at my job. I love to help people. My facade is complete there because they don't know me. They accept me as I present myself to them. They have their own life issues to deal with. I am there to listen to them when they need to talk about their life, loves and losses. I can truly empathize with them on many of these subjects. I can connect with them without any long term emotional investment. I hope I help them. If only I could help myself. I know that anger is part of the grieving process. I seem to be stuck in it right now. I apologize to all of those in my life because I don't see my way out any time soon. The facade is cracking and breaking. I hope I can hold it together before it all crashes away and I am left as nothing.Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-67445586309916489462016-05-15T23:49:00.000-07:002016-05-15T23:49:16.062-07:00And Now We Are ThreeMy heart is broken. Again. Today I lost my oldest brother. I am so sick of cancer! But I will save that rant for another day. Being the youngest I have had some wonderful experiences with my older siblings. My brother Eddie was a brother and so much more. I was blessed to be included with him on his family outings with my sister in law and my nieces. Swimming, fishing, whatever. It was also wonderful to work with him. We spent many hours together in the office talking about everything. And laughing. Lots of laughter. I will remember him smiling and laughing. We had so much fun, even in the bad times. Always able to find humor in all things, whether appropriate or not. I have lost such a large part of me today. He taught me to drive a stick shift. Keeping calm as I sped toward a huge boulder. "Rock! Rock! Turn the wheel!!!!" Calmly. Deciding that it was enough for one day, we switched places. I still think he over reacted a bit, I mean we didn't hit the little rock. He was also a great friend to my husband. Hunting and fishing together. Working on the truck. Just talking. He was a big brother to him, too. We expect to lose our parents at some point. I never expected to lose a sibling! He was supposed to live forever. He was my BIG brother. He held the world on his shoulders for me. Always there to rescue me. No matter what his faults, he was perfect to me. Now there are the 3 of us. My sister and my brother and me. Just us. We will go on, we have to. We have our own families. We will stay close. But a big part of us is gone. So many memories. And now that is all I have. I will hold it all so close. Deep in my heart. I love you so much my dear brother. Goodbye for now.Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-678302962043897392015-11-13T12:40:00.000-08:002015-11-13T12:40:18.009-08:00Almost knocked out by my knockersI suppose that is a little misleading. Technically still accurate. Yesterday I was getting ready for work. I was putting on my bra. My hair has a tendency to get in the way when I hook my bra. So I did this little head swing to flip my hair out of the way. In my head it was that TV and movies really sexy move. In my real world it lead to me slamming my head into the door jam. Hard enough to make me see stars for a moment. Cue laughing and crying. I am a walking sitcom sight gag. As I sat on my bed waiting for the room to stop spinning I wondered what would have happened if I had knocked myself out. How long would I lay there? What would the animals do? How long before the cats decided I was food? What if I was alone? Fortunately Hubby was home. I can imagine that 911 call. I can imagine the dispatcher, "you <i>found</i> your wife unconscious on the floor?" Imagine telling the responders what happened. I hit my own head trying to put my bra on. Yeah right. Sounds like the I walked in to a door response to a black eye question. I mean I did it and I would probably not believe it could happen to anyone else. Add this to the list of things that can only happen to me. You know all those things that your brain decides to remind you of at 2:00 am when you are attempting sleep. Like the time 2 male co-workers asked if I would like breakfast. My answer? "No thanks. My husband ate me out this morning." Although the look on their faces was priceless, it was mortifying! In my defense my answer was a mix up in my early morning addled brain of "No thank you I already ate. My husband made me breakfast this morning." Or my attempt at greeting a customer, instead of saying "Welcome. Can I help you find anything." I said, well actually I enthusiastically almost yelled, "HI! I can help you find all the things!" Yes this late night listing can go on and on. Believing I am singularly the most awkward person on the planet. Only that is not exactly true. You should check out thebloggess post here: http://thebloggess.com/2015/11/awkwarding-is-what-brings-us-all-together/ I am not alone! In fact there are more of us that are awkward than there are "normals"! Laughing with others about their foibles is the best medicine. We are all awesome! Never forget that. In fact reading the post and the twitters I laughed so hard I snorted. In public. *sigh* I'm amazing in my awkwardness. Feel free to share your amazing awkwardness! Awkwards UNITE!<br />
<br />Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-32950698443606977922015-09-18T19:04:00.000-07:002015-09-18T19:04:38.693-07:00Crazy Neighborhood LadyThat would be me now. Sigh. It took a while, but I am sure the entire neighborhood is aware of my eccentricities. A normal evening after work for me is coming home, getting into comfy clothes, OK into my jammies, and amusing myself with one of my babies. This particular night my pastel ball python, Truman, was out and about with me. He was just hanging out on my arm in his usual spot. Normal for me to have one of my creatures spending quality time with me. I remembered I had left my Ipad in my car. Pink fluffy slippers on, check. Grab keys, check. Oliver, my special shih-tzu loves to go out with me to the car. He does this little hop-skip dance around, jumps inside the car and then comes back in the house with me. Braeden my other shih-tzu will go out and wander around. Stare at Oliver as if to say "really, just stop you are embarrassing us". On this night the dogs head out with me, I open car door to get the Ipad. Turn around and Oliver is skipping across the street to the gentlemen walking on the opposite side. Oliver loves everyone. EVERYONE. The gentlemen stopped and was petting him. I came traipsing across the street, yelling at Oliver and apologizing for him jumping on the guy. The gentlemen looks at me and then just takes off. Walking at a rapid pace. I didn't understand. These are 2 little dogs that were really just wanting to love on him. Oh well more pressing matters at hand, where did those snots scamper off to now? Still across the street and one house over. I am still yelling and now I am joined by Youngest. He is yelling at the dogs. I'm yelling at the dogs. I'm apologizing to the neighbors. Older man with younger lad working on their car in the driveway. They were looking at the dogs and us. I didn't hear what the older man said. The only light was a floodlight over the engine. I got close to him as Oliver was jumping on and running around his legs. Apparently, Oliver has coated himself in oil because he keeps slipping away. Youngest is not having a better time rounding up Braeden. The neighbors were not helping in any way. I was wondering why they didn't try to hold the dogs as they were jumping and bouncing at their feet. In fact they acted afraid. I am thinking, "seriously?! They are little dogs. They are not even barking!" Whatever. After a few more laps around the car and yard, we finally wrangled both dogs. I apologized again to the traumatized looking neighbors, and we headed into the street toward home. In the middle of the street I realized I still had Truman around my arm! I started to laugh very loudly. That is why the first guy took off so quickly when I got near him and why the neighbors were acting so scared and backing away. Backing away from ME not the little dogs yapping at their feet. Crazy lady in her jammies, pink fuzzy slippers and a little snake for a bracelet. Oh yeah I am a terrifying sight. It was so very comical to me. I continued to laugh all the way up to our front door. That is when Youngest realized what I was laughing about. "You had Truman this whole time?!" Yep I sure did. Great. Now I will be known as the crazy lady with the snake and the dogs who don't behave. Oh well now I can truly be me and not worry about what they all think of me any more. I will walk my lizards on their leashes right down the sidewalk. I will go check the mail with my snakes wrapped around my arm or wrist. I will take my chameleons out for some sun and relax in my chair on my front porch. In my comfy lounge wear. And pink fuzzy slippers. And I will not care. Well, I will care, but just a little. After all every neighborhood needs a colorful resident. I will be our neighborhood's eccentric.Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-47488096898427309662015-09-14T14:43:00.000-07:002015-09-14T14:43:44.259-07:00Perception Vs Reality Existing in An Overly PC WorldI have been quietly stewing over this for a few days now. OK so maybe not quietly, but stewing is correct. I was recently accused of being a racist who is also prejudiced against those with special needs. What? I mean seriously. Me? Racist? And against those who are handicapped in some way. Ridiculous, right? It happened at my place of employment. I am in retail. I love it. I really do. I love to interact with people. I am good at it. I have never had an issue like this before. It is all about perception. And people who are overly eager to see things as being against them in everything. I directed a couple of children to another register because I had clocked out and was already on my limited lunch time. YOU decided that my intention was to not deal with your children because of their color and disability. YOU decided that I had a problem with you and your children based on nothing but my directing them to another open register. NOT that I had said anything mean or with an attitude. NOT that I was rude or in any way disrespectful. Your perception was not reality in any way. You did not say anything to me or anyone in the store at that time. It was days later when a person came in to complain about my supposed slight to you and your family. Only the person complaining wasn't even you. A person who heard the story from you and your children came in to complain. Seriously? How is this an issue? How did it get to this? Fortunately my manager and just about everyone who has any interaction with me realized this was not in my nature. I wish I could have been there to talk to you in person. I wish I could have told you my side. The reality of what happened rather than someone's inaccurate perception. It is possible that you have had to deal with people who have treated you and your children in this manner. I would like to think that it is the exception not the rule. How did we get to the point where we look to be offended and insulted? How did we become so PC that we can't even exist without being offended every time we turn around? Or have to worry that we are offending someone by merely existing, doing our job, shopping, or whatever we are doing during our daily interaction with others. What are you teaching your children? That EVERYONE is against them due to their color or disability? How is that a good thing? I have tried to teach my children that different is good and to embrace those differences. Not that their differences are a reason to look for things that people do or say to be offended by. I hope they have learned that people are people no matter what their color, beliefs, sexual identity, religion, or whatever and they are to be treated no differently. When did I become the exception? I refuse to go through my life walking on eggshells in case I offend someone inadvertently. I REFUSE. I will be me, just the same as I always have been. Friendly and welcoming to all I meet. If you see an ulterior motive or you perceive a slight that is on YOU. And I feel sorry for you, that seems like a very sad and angry way to go through life. I prefer my reality to yours.Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-78584143893158544932015-08-22T14:07:00.000-07:002015-08-22T14:07:58.195-07:00Being MOMMy mother was my rock. She was the one I called when things were good and when things were bad. She was able to always make things right. No matter what the issue. Her wisdom was, to me, endless. Same goes for Daddy. But I called him for different things. Usually car related. Momma was the fixer of all things. Now that she is gone I have no one to call to make things all better. I am dealing with that reality. Today it dawned on me that she is not just gone but she has passed that baton on to me. My adult son called me with a problem. I immediately went into MOM mode and began to analyze for a solution. Speaking in the same calm voice I have heard on the other end of a phone line so many times. It was natural. Just automatic to be the voice of comfort. Using my experience that things are never as bad as we think and that things usually do work themselves out. Guiding him to the possible paths we need to take to fix things. Letting him vent and cry and rant. Staying calm when I really want to go and beat up the ones who are causing my baby pain. How many times did Momma feel this way? How many times did she stay calm on the phone with me only to fall apart after I hung up? How many times did she cry? I am now the voice of reason. I am now MOM. I mean I have always been mom. I have raised my boys, taught them, laughed with them, and loved them. It never occurred to me that I would be MOM. Momma was going to always be there for me to call for solutions. Just like when the boys were babies and I would call her for help with them. She always had the answer. The solution to all boo boos and issues. Now I have to be MOM and rely on my own answers. Fortunately she taught me well. I listened. I learned. I am MOM.Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-59777410346018627532015-07-14T11:09:00.000-07:002015-07-14T11:09:16.689-07:00Games with HubbyAs people of "a certain age" Hubby and I have started to play a few new games. Our favorite lately is Guess What Hurts Today! Oh it is such fun. After hearing the alarm and playing Do I Snooze or Just Get Up, next up is Guess What Hurts. It is usually started with a guess depending on the activities of the previous day or 2. Let's see, I did extra gardening yesterday so my knees are gonna ache. (Moves legs). Yep that is painful. On his side of the bed Hubby is playing his version. Now the real fun begins. We get to play My Pain is Worse Than Yours. This starts with one of us making the comment of What Hurts Today. The other is required to then state their What Hurts Today. Now to see who can moan or sigh the most when attempting to get up. Bonus points are awarded for getting up and then immediately falling back to the bed in apparent agony. Oh what fun! We now play version 2.0 of Look At This. It is not the Look At This of cleaning the fridge fame. No, this is the new version where we show each other new oddities we have on our bodies. Mine are usually bruise related. His are lumps. That man gets bit by more things than anytime we went camping. OK stop laughing, I mean when he went camping. Like I camp. I seem to get bruised by breathing. Showing him my bruises are the result of my game of Where Did That Come From. Bruises, scratches and other skin anomalies show up on a regular basis. And they are not after some wild night of drinking or partying. OK stop laughing, it could happen. No it couldn't, like I drink and party. Bonus points are awarded in Look At This if the other contestant spots something before you do. Where did you get that?! This is followed by a blank stare while you try to figure out what it is and where you might have possibly have gotten it. I am usually unable to figure that one out. Not sure it that is a plus or minus in points. When we gather with our friends these can be played as teams or singles. Ah to go back to the good old days when we spent time talking about the important things in life such as when Jr. first pooped in the potty. Or when one of our cuties was in trouble. These things could be discussed for hours. Now we talk about noises our bodies make. And not the funny kind, nope the new ones that mimic a door that needs oiling. Groans, creaks and pops. I forgot to mention that these noises can influence the points in What Hurts Today. Now I need to go do some deep cleaning, the bathroom is a bit scary. Looking forward to multiple What Hurts Today for tomorrows round. Bonus points for me!Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-61788208391363498442015-07-02T15:53:00.003-07:002015-07-02T15:53:59.948-07:00My Broken BrainMental health issues are horrid. Having a rough time lately. Trying to put my thoughts into words is hard. Feelings are sometimes not something we can put into words. They just ARE. As is our way these days I mentioned on Facebook and Twitter that I wanted a few things. I say these things not for attention or trolling for "I love you's", but to try to put the way I am into words.<br />
<br />
I want a friend I can call and just cry and cry, Just sit on the phone and sob. I need a friend to just show up and say I am here. I know you need me so here I am what can I do? I want this, I NEED this. Unfortunately this is how my mind works:<br />
<br />
You will say call me anytime, you will mean it. I will hear, "Call me anytime except when you really need me then I will be busy entertaining the Duchess of Alagonia and Larry the Cable Guy." So I won't call in fear of disturbing you.<br />
You will say, "Let's get together for lunch." I will nod and smile. What I hear is "Let's get together. Except for when you need me. Because on that day I will be too busy cleaning cars for the not so rich in order for them to fit in at the country club." So I won't call in fear of disturbing you.<br />
You will say "I'm coming over to see you". I will immediately panic because my house is not pristine and I have no delicacies to offer you. I would rather hide in the closet than open the door.<br />
<br />
This is how my damaged mind works. My psyche is a bit off kilter. I am sure to be my friend is quite a challenge. IF you see the way I am. Most people see me as the one who listens. Who is there no matter what the crisis, no matter what the time. The one who shows up and listens to you cry and sob. The one who texts words of encouragement during difficult times. I write on your facebook page with every sad word from you or happy occurrence in your life. I can be a great friend to you. It is hard to be your friend when I am in need. It is not you, it is me.<br />
<br />
I am broken. In so many ways. Lately the darkness is getting the upper hand. Anxiety and Panic are hanging around no matter how many mean things I say to them. I told Panic she was getting a little thick around the middle and her gray was showing. That bitch is still here! I cry in my bedroom by myself. Then I go out and face the world putting on my fabulous person face that most people expect to see. I huddle on the floor in the dark so no one can see me when I am in full on panic mode crying and shaking. I get up and wash my face, slap on some war paint and hope no one is the wiser.<br />
<br />
One day there will be someone who is like me and will see the me I don't show. Who will just KNOW. Someone who will just barge in to my home and make me see them. Someone like me. I only hope I will hear her and not my broken brain. Someday. Someone. And maybe she will even introduce me to the Duchess of Alagonia, I hear she is a hoot!<br />
<br />Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-25088040665281623652015-04-28T22:02:00.000-07:002015-04-28T22:02:13.557-07:00Orphaned at 48 Lose your parents as a young child and they will call you an orphan. Lose your parents as an adult and they just call you an adult. Momma died 2 years and 3 months ago. Daddy passed last night. I don't feel like an adult. I feel lost. I feel like I am a tiny little girl in a big dark scary bedroom. Wishing that Daddy would come and turn the light on to chase the monsters away. Wishing that Momma would come in and tell me a story to lull me to sleep. I am an adult. I have children of my own, a job, a house, all the things that would qualify me to be an adult. I got up this morning and went to my job. I put on make up and couldn't help thinking I was playing dress up. There are arrangements to be made. Decisions to make. Plans to carry out. My siblings and I will get it done because we are adults. We will comfort each other, share stories and memories. Laugh and cry. And we will go on. I believe I will always feel like I am that scared child waiting for Momma and Daddy to rescue me, to fix it. Some days I will feel like the adult society calls me. Some days I will feel like an orphan. Death is wrong. No matter what the age it is always too soon. There is always more that needs to be done, to be said. More hugs to give. More kisses. More love. My parents lived a long life. I was very blessed to have them as long as I did. I know that. But it is not enough. It's never long enough. To all the other adult orphans out there, come on over to my house. We will have a play date. I have crayons. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-11046723593213060742015-02-26T13:19:00.000-08:002015-02-26T13:19:47.939-08:00Mean Girls Grown Up Mean girls grow up to be mean women. I am so saddened by this fact. I wish we could be more of a true sisterhood. Watching out for each other, not watching each other fall. Or worse pushing each other down. I wish we had each other's back instead of stabbing it. I try to be a good friend. I try to be the one who is the cheerleader for others. Why am I so shocked when I am the target? Here is how it went down. I have been with a group of women online for quite some time now. Women who have been at the very least my acquaintances and some I considered good friends. We "met" online on a forum for women who only have sons. We are a rare breed. There are things that a mom of boys will understand that no one else really will. It has been a bumpy ride at times. Yet for the most part we all seemed to weather it and go on as friends. It is amazing how fast those tables turned. Turned on me! As a Facebook group we had a little stuffed animal that we were sending around to each other. It was fun to have it and take pictures of it with our families. To give a little sample of our daily lives in a fun way. I had her the longest. To be honest I had her during a really rough patch and it was nice to think that while I had her I had a piece of all my "friends" with me, to help me through. I sent her to her next destination with a box full of goodies from me to the next person, along with an album and some pics of her time with me. I go on about my merry little life. I am not able to check in on this particular page daily. Or even weekly sometimes. Imagine my surprise to find out that I am the object of such excitement! Apparently there was a little book, a journal of sorts in the box sent to me. Honestly I didn't even remember seeing it. The fact that I did not send it on to the next person was horrific! It was meant to be a journal to write in about her time with each person. I had no idea since no real instructions come along with the stuffed animal. In my absence on this particular page I had been shredded. Vile aspersions were cast upon me for keeping it. This kept these women in quite a titter, my having kept this little book. Their hackles were quite raised I am told. You see I have no first hand knowledge of the real goings on because, gasp, I was deleted. Facebook deleting and unfriending. The adult equivalent to "you can't sit at the cool kids lunch table anymore". Really? This is what we are? Adult women behaving like middle school children? Over a little book. Not a Bible, Torah or even a Koran. Not even The Joy Of Sex! It didn't shoot lasers or anything cool. Just a little journal note book. A little book so powerful that it can divide and destroy. Because we allowed it to. How can we raise strong, confident young women when we behave so awfully to each other? How can we expect to be taken seriously in the world when the world sees us doing such things to each other? Our mothers or grandmothers burned their bras so we could treat each other like dirt? Or worse? How do we stop it? How do we stop tearing each other down and start building each other up? Imagine what we could accomplish if we did. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-9944419160001730442015-01-13T14:18:00.000-08:002015-01-13T14:18:43.321-08:00Finding Light In The Darkness Be prepared for this post to be all over the place. My brain is a jumbled mess. Momma has been gone 2 years as of yesterday. I thought I was going to be fine. I mean the first year is the hardest, right? Wrong! The day hit me like a ton of bricks. As if it had just happened. Fresh and raw. Much crying ensued. I am at an interesting point in my life. Things are happening that I need to deal with. I want more than anything to have my Momma's lap to lay my head in. To have her rub my head gently and tell me it will all be OK. That little comfort. To have her here to listen to me rant and rave. To tell me when I am going over the edge and bring me back to reality. To help me make decisions that are the best for me and my family. To have her experience to learn from. Now I have to be the one to comfort me. To reel me back in when I am on the edge. To make my own decisions. And you know what? It is HORRIBLE. I need Daddy to run to for answers to my car questions. To get feedback for life's decisions, too. I can't. He has answers, but they are not for me. They are for the life he is living in his head. His dementia filled brain has answers, some of them are quite humorous, but they are not what I need. What I need is my Momma and Daddy here. On the flip side I have become Momma to other people. I am the one who people come to for advice, comfort, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. I am the with the inviting lap, the one gently rubbing a suffering head and telling them it will be all right. Everything will be fine. I am using my life experiences to help others work through their trials. My advice is sound, or at least that is what I have been told. I just wonder why I don't give myself advice or listen to what I tell others? As I write this the clouds have moved and the sunlight is coming through my window. Almost as if, in life, the light has ways of shining through. The darkness is still there, but there are areas of light, of bright blue sky, too. They are there to show that it is not all dark. We have to look for the light. It's there. Somewhere. To find the blue sky in the midst of the dark clouds. Momma raised me to be my own person. To be independent. She would tell me I know the path I need to travel. I need to listen to my inner person. My inner voice will tell me what I need to hear. My inner voice, it sounds like Momma. I guess she is here. She is my ray of sun shining through the clouds. So I will cry. I will mourn. And I will look for the light in this darkness. I am listening Momma. I will get through my trail. Just like you would expect me to. I am my Momma's daughter after all. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-66955953022770714902015-01-01T00:58:00.000-08:002015-01-01T00:58:17.239-08:00A New Year--Resolution TimeIt is the first day of 2015. Around the world people are celebrating the new year. People make all kinds of resolutions. Stop smoking, lose weight, start eating healthier, etc. These are all good ideas. But why do you have to have the start of a new year to make changes? In actuality we are changing all the time. Aging is constant. Moving forward is constantly happening. In fact most of these resolutions are long gone memories in a few months. How about some resolutions we can stick with? So here are a few of mine. I vow to keep breathing. I will continue to eat. I'm pretty sure I will keep bathing. I vow to continue to be as snarky as possible! I will spread happiness as far as I can. If only by being my silly self to entertain people. Whew that is a pretty good list right there. It might be tough, but I will keep it up. How about we all just resolve to be happy? Just decide every morning when we open our eyes that we will be a happy person today. You <b>deserve</b> to be happy. Find one thing everyday that makes you happy. It could be the smallest of things. The smell of that first cup of coffee. A little bug crawling along a blade of grass. Watching your sleeping child. Something that brings a smile to your face. Even if it is ever so brief. Hold on to that feeling! Positive energy is so lacking. If we decide to put the positive out there and then follow through with it the happier we all could be. It is so easy to be drawn down into the nastiness of the negative folks. Let's all decide to not allow that. Bonus: It really irks them when we stay happy in spite of them and their nastiness! So here is to 2015. A year of happiness and positivity. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-90503420037022407422014-11-04T11:47:00.000-08:002014-11-04T11:47:20.906-08:00We have Weather!Ahhh cold breezes, open windows, sweats and warm socks. Vegas has weather folks. I love living here. We were wearing shorts and sandals just a day ago. Then whoosh mother nature arrived! Time for some warmer clothes. Hot soup for dinner. Cold nights and warm days. Our "freezing cold" is not truly freezing. I love the cold. For a week or so. Then I will be lamenting the fact that my car has frost on it, that the dog doesn't want to go outside in the morning, that I have to cook those warm soup dinners, that my toes are cold despite having my socks on, that the power bill is going up and so on. I will be watching the news and commenting on the snowfall in areas my friends live in. At least I don't have that to deal with that. It will carry me through the few months of cold and before I know it, whoosh mother nature will sweep in and make it warm again. It will be spring and the warm temperature will be a welcome change. The shorts and sandals will come back out! I will be then lamenting the largeness that is me that my sweats so wonderfully camouflaged. Rain will be hopefully in store for us then. Those few months will be remembered so fondly when the heat hits. The heat that we are known for. The heat that we really only have for a few months. The really, really hot days are not that numerous. They only seem to be never ending and extreme. So see, Vegas has weather. It is never too cold, and only a little bit too hot. Vegas has wonderful weather. Now someone remind me of that in a few months. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-74650080178693864662014-10-19T21:07:00.001-07:002014-10-19T21:56:00.791-07:00Anniversary!Last night Hubby and I celebrated our 28th anniversary. We have been going through a rough patch recently. Time to shake things up a bit. Retail therapy for inspiration. Shopping! Decided to go with an open mind, to look for something different. Was inspired to go with a completely different look for the evening. Step outside my comfort zone. I chatted with the much younger associates at the shoe store, discussing my planned outfit. I asked them if it was too young for me. They lied, bless their little hearts! I bought it all. The shoes, the outfit, the lies. Driving home I had a few "What am I doing?" moments. When I walked in with my purchases, I received a raised eyebrow look from Hubby. I guess it really has been a while since I had that shoe shopping gleam in my eye. Time to get ready! I made Hubby stay out of our bedroom while I put on this new look. I tried not to listen to that little voice in my head that was saying, "You are too fat, too old and you can't dress like this!". Opened the door and walked down the hallway to Hubby sitting on the couch with eyes covered. Tada! He was smiling. I asked if it was an I like it smile or an I'm laughing at you on the inside smile. He said it was an I like smile. So what was this outfit you ask. Or not. I am going to tell you anyway. I bought a black miniskirt. I bought black stiletto booties. (Well I actually bought 2 pairs of black stiletto booties, because who buys just one pair?) Anyway I must repeat, I bought <b>A Black Miniskirt.</b> I am 48 years old wearing a miniskirt. I am easily that much overweight wearing a miniskirt. I'm wearing stiletto booties. Me. Conservative, sedan driving, jeans wearing, mom of 2, reptile keeping, me. I paired it with a nice black tank top, maroon sweater and tights with a subtle flower pattern. I almost chickened out. What am I thinking? I can't pull this off! I had a back up outfit just in case. With my friends texting me their encouragement, I took a deep breath and off we went. I felt like everyone was staring at me, judging me, laughing at me. You know the usual. Hubby said they were not and in fact they were all wondering how he got such a hot wife. He says just the right things. Dinner was at one of our favorite places. A little cafe inside an older local hotel/casino that is famous for their prime rib. At dinner I surprised Hubby yet again. After we sat down I said, "notice anything?" He just stared at me with that "Oh no" look. No phone. Didn't even bring it. No technology dinner! He was shocked. Apparently my phone usage can be a little excessive. Now we have to actually talk to each other. No texting, facebooking, redditing, web surfing. Nothing. Just us. You know what? We do remember how to talk. How to have fun with each other. It was wonderful. Our after dinner plans fell through because our next destination was closing. So we wound up at our favorite place to wander around. Target! Really. We have a ball just wandering around that store. Here we are all dressed up, wandering around, laughing and making a spectacle of ourselves. It was delightful. Then we headed back to the same little cafe for take home desserts. They are just as famous for those! Dessert for us and Youngest. Oldest and he had gone out for a while but he was home when we got back. He is always up for chocolate cake! We all sat on our bed and ate our decadent desserts. Sharing bites with each other. Talking and laughing. It was the perfect ending to our anniversary night. We were wiped out. Such party animals. Ready for bed at 11:00 pm. Maybe next year we can make it all the way to midnight. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-42702641267206425702014-09-28T13:01:00.000-07:002014-09-28T13:01:04.024-07:00Concerts At My AgeHubby and I went to see Huey Lewis and the News last night. It was a phenomenal show. His voice is still amazing. His fan base is predominantly around my age, late 40's to late 50's. Observing those in attendance was very entertaining. There were the too tan, too tight, too perky, too large to be in that tiny outfit, too much gold, too much make-up, heels way too high, and trying way too hard to stay young people. Both male and female, which I find very interesting. I used to say men are allowed to age gracefully, but seeing the men too tan, too tight, trying too hard makes me rethink this. Has the tide shifted? Do men now feel the need to appear young and vibrant like women have been pressured to for years? If you are a guy of my age and you are visiting a tanning salon you need to seriously rethink your priorities man! You are not fooling anyone, just like the women who are too tan, too tight, and trying too hard are. If you are a woman of my age and you are shopping at Forever 21 maybe you should also rethink things. I mean do you really think that too tight mini skirt is going to attract a young stud? Not while, even<i> with </i>that tan, the veins on your legs look like a map of LA freeways. What I loved seeing were the couples like us, older and OK with it. In jeans and tees. Khakis and button up shirts. Maxi dresses with flats. Grey hair, and grey beards. Just there to enjoy the music and perhaps relive some youthful times. Well not completely relive because now we have some "issues". Standing and dancing for an entire concert are things of the past for a lot of us. "Hang on honey my knee locked up", or "I've got to sit down my hip is killing me" are common with us now. Hearing, "down in front" used to infuriate me! No more. It was more like, "Thank God!" I was dying to sit down, but did not want to look like I had to. Now I am just being respectful of those behind me. Eventually we did join in with the crowd towards the front in an impromptu dance party. It was a throw back to the younger us, the ones who danced the entire concert and went out afterwards to party on. Our after party? A trip to Walmart for cake and ice cream. And some Ben-Gay because my hip is killing me! Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-52151390763454038582014-08-30T22:35:00.000-07:002014-08-30T22:40:46.747-07:00I am angry!So I probably should not be writing. Eh to hell with that. I am pissed. I have had a few months of hell. Well more than the usual hell my life is. Due to several extenuating circumstances I find myself in strange, yet familiar territory. Too much month and not enough money. For the first time in a very, very long time I am struggling to pay my rent. Playing the will it get put through the bank before I get my paycheck or after. Will it cost me an overdraft fee or not. The fee to the bank is much less than the fee the management co will charge me. Lesser of the 2 evils. I suppose. I think back to before when we were much younger and struggling so very much. Two children, a dog and 2 cats, an addiction issue, and me without a real job. Bills so high we had to just walk away from them. Those were my fault. I have an issue with shopping. I have worked really hard to face it and keep it from happening again. I can't start over again. I am like so many in this country. Dancing on that line of almost being homeless. Will we pay the power or the water bill. Internet or cable? Which one goes? How did we go backwards? How did I let this happen? My BFF is unavailable to me since she is currently fighting her own demons. I can be her cheerleader. But I need one of my own. Hubby is going through this with me, but he has his own issues to deal with. My parents were my safety net. Emotionally, spiritually, and even monetarily sometimes. I am an orphan. I miss them so much! <b>No one</b> to rescue me. I suppose I am going to have to learn to rescue myself. I know things will not stay this way. His job will pick back up. I will be more aware of his job and it's up and down ways. I will put more money away, or not pay triple to my credit cards. I will keep looking for a better job. I have a plan. I'm just worn down. I give to others so much I don't have much for myself left. I just want to cry and have someone to put their arms around me and remind me it will be OK. My uncle used to say in these type rough times, "you're just making memories!" Well Uncle Bob I have a lifetime of memories, can I just not have any more? I should probably not publish this. I know everyone is going through their own personal private hells. But just maybe knowing that there are others out there struggling, too, yet not giving up will help to keep us all going! I would love to stay here and have a meaningful moment of singing <span class="st">kumbaya with you all, but the cat just peed on my bed. Apparently I need to do laundry. </span>Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-36725478761364052822014-08-13T21:09:00.000-07:002014-08-13T21:09:37.613-07:00You Just Never KnowA tragedy has occurred in my extended family. One of our dearly loved members was brutally murdered by her ex. It was on the early news. I watched and did like everyone else, made a comment on how sad for that family, and went about my business. It was much later through a facebook post that I learned the horrible truth. Our dear Angie had been the victim of domestic violence. I knew her when she was younger. She was beautiful, but had a bit of a rough time in those younger years. I knew she would get it together. She was so sweet. I remember attending her baby shower. I admit it was hard to see her as a mom, I mean she was still just a baby to me! Even though I had not seen her in a long time, this loss has hit me hard. She was so young. She has 2 little girls. She was a good mom. She had a job. She was doing everything right. In a moment she was gone. For what? Why? What made him snap? How could he think of taking his daughter's mother away? Taking himself away from his daughter? Having any sort of crime hit my family was something I never allowed myself to think about. Now here it is. Plastered on the news, in print and social media. No problem I have seems as large as it did yesterday. All those things I was worrying about are nothing. A mother and father lost their daughter, a step-mother lost her dear step-daughter, there are siblings that are also suffering the loss. Then I think of those beautiful daughters she leaves behind. The depth of grief is almost debilitating. There will not be a trial. The ex, her murderer, is also deceased. I am not sure if that is a good thing or not. I could go on about how domestic violence is too prevalent. I could, but I will not. Not now. This time is dedicated to the fact that we lost a wonderful person. The world lost a wonderful person, taken way too soon. So tonight hug your family just a little tighter, just a little longer. Because you just never know. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-38254901803443461592014-08-03T21:43:00.001-07:002014-08-03T21:47:45.968-07:00Laughter Fixes Almost EverythingHaving this dark outlook is not good. I need to pull myself out this depressed funk I am in. I need a brighter outlook. Laughter has been seriously missing in my life lately. Some of my favorite memories are of my family watching slapstick silly movies. I have mentioned this before. I have been seriously lacking in my humor fixes lately. I need a movie marathon of silliness. I need to laugh until my sides hurt. Laugh til crying type silliness. I need a day of people watching. Observing folks going about their lives and narrating their thoughts to myself. The more outrageous the better. I can be very creative. To start my path to happier me, my youngest and I watched a favorite of mine, Matilda. Such a great movie. Listening to him laugh with me was the best medicine. I need a good friend to have an outing with. Maybe a trip to the bookstore. Humor books! A good friend to sit and have coffee or tea and read. Just being in a bookstore is medicinal for me. Surrounded by books is so wonderful. I know all about libraries, but a bookstore is different. You either get it or you don't. I need a friend who gets it. My sister does! Many fond memories of hours in the bookstore. Laughing and laughing. Always buying at least one book or magazine to continue the liveliness at home. My niece and I the summer I was 18 would go to the frozen yogurt store, (it was a newfangled thing back then). We could sit in the car and people watch for hours, nursing our yogurts to enjoy both the wonderful sweetness and the entertainment for as long as possible. I need a day of walking through the mall laughing so hard that nothing we are saying is making sense. A simple sound or word and we dissolve even further into gales of laughter. Bonus points if one or both of us needs to pee! Certainly making a spectacle of ourselves and not caring. Trying on the most outrageous things we can find. Beautiful clothes that are not our style at all. The more different the better. Laughing like hyenas in the dressing room that we are sharing. Trying on "stripper shoes". The higher the better. Grown up pretending. I know momma would not be happy that I have lost my funny side. I seem to have replaced it with a bitter type humor. She would want me to be happy. She enjoyed laughing. She and her best friend would laugh and laugh at their own silliness. I miss her laughter. I miss her. I need to share that with my boys. I need to give them memories of their momma laughing like that. I laugh with them. My boys are wonderfully creative and they make me laugh. But I also need a good friend to do this with. People slowly creep away when you have a catastrophic event in your life. I am no different. People who were here for me are no longer. Some just don't know what to do or say. Some it hits close to home, that horrible grief. People who I thought would be there for me forever are not. Some even going so far as to be horrid. Casting accusations towards me of horrible things I supposedly did at my mother's services and the gathering after. I admit I was barely coherent that entire day, but I would never do what I was accused of. NEVER. Even saying I handled things badly at the hospital the NIGHT SHE DIED. Apparently I didn't pay attention to the manners book on the day we covered what to do in the midst of horrendous, awful, stabbed to the very depth of your soul type of all consuming grief. Gotta learn to take better notes. Now the issue is how to find a friend to be silly with. Why isn't there an online Find Your New Bestie! type match service? I should start one. No not really, sounds like too much work. I only want 10% of whoever uses my idea. I will also be the first candidate. In the meantime, I will enjoy my movies. I will go to the bookstore. I will go to the mall. Even if I go alone. Laughing alone on a bench in the mall might give others who are in need of some good old fashioned silly humor a smile or even a fit of laughter. Maybe I will wear a big silly hat, to inspire them. You know I have one. Or 7. Go laugh at something, you'll feel better. I promise. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-35001604792278774162014-07-31T19:52:00.000-07:002014-07-31T19:52:49.266-07:00I Am A Huge Liar I am a huge liar. I pretend every day that every thing is great and wonderful. I pretend I am happy all the time. I pretend that my life is just fabulous. It is all a LIE. My life sucks. I am very rarely actually happy. I enjoy my pets and my family. But happiness eludes me. I am tired. I am tired of trying. I am tired of being the one person in the room who will have the cake fall on them. The person who is doing nothing wrong but will suffer the biggest loss. The horrible. nasty troll will actually be rewarded for being the horrible nasty troll and I will get a rock thrown at me. This is my reality at the moment. It is dark and evil. I want to crawl in my hole and stay there. People should stay away from me. But they won't because I am counted on to make things better. To fix things. To rescue them when they need rescuing. To right the wrongs. I do all these things, and really I don't mind. I love to help. It gives me moments of happy times. But who is there for me? Who rescues me? I usually rescue myself. I have to pull myself out of the mud. NO one realizes that sometimes I need help or rescuing. People have gotten angry at me for the times I am not happy! As if I have no right to have a bad day. So I don't let myself have them. I go on as if I am the happy little ray of sunshine they want me to be. Until I can't anymore. As I sit here crying, well crying for the last hour and a half, it occurs to me I just can't be that person any more. I can't lie and pretend it is all roses. Because it is not. For me it is thorns and weeds. Weeds that burn my skin. Thorns that cut to the bone. I give folks money when they are in need. I give them food. I make sure they get their needs met. But I have no guardian angel to make sure my rent is paid or that I have food on my table. I have to make sure my needs are met all on my own. I lie and say it is all fabulous. But it really isn't. I can't lie anymore. I am not fabulous. I am not happy. So don't ask me how I am anymore. I won't lie. Not anymore. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-65841388808767254312014-07-28T14:35:00.000-07:002014-07-28T14:35:10.885-07:003 Year Olds Are A Blast!I had the wonderful privilege of watching my bestie's baby for a few days. Oh man I have forgotten that magical age. He is actually not quite 3. Just a few months shy of it. Close enough in my book. I love this age. I know other people complain about the "attitude" of 2 and 3 year olds. I love it. They are showing their independence. You can see the personality forming. The colors they love to wear. How they want to mix colors. Who cares if they have clothes on that match. Let them be. Cereal for lunch? Sure why not. Add some fruit and it is a good meal. A few odd choices will not cause long term harm. It is important to let them have some control over parts of their daily lives. It is so great to see them blossom into little people! Temper tantrums are entertaining. They are telling us all about how they are frustrated with a choice we are making for them or making them make. It passes. I think<b> we</b> learn something from it. As an adult we get to make choices all day long. They are telling us how they need to make choices, too. We should pay attention to them, it shows who they are becoming! We were coloring and drawing. Again who cares if the doggie is blue or green. Why does an elephant have to be grey when yellow is so much better. Seeing the world with their eyes is magical. Being outside in the sunshine not complaining how hot it is, rather looking at the bugs on the sidewalk in sheer wonderment. To just run around. For fun. Not exercise just run, and hop, and jump and twirl. He was my constant companion. Apparently everything I do is amazing. Everything is wonderful and fascinating. We all need to be 3 year olds sometimes. Remember the fun and wonderment of the world. When the world creeps in and it is wearing us down, maybe we should just crouch down and watch some bugs on the sidewalk. Grab a coloring book and just let the imagination go. No rules. Have a sandwich for breakfast, or ice cream for dinner! OK that last one I have done. A lot. Maybe I should do the cereal and fruit for lunch more often instead. He may be on to a new type of diet. The 3 year old guide to losing that extra holiday weight. I am going to go watch some bugs now. No really I am. Some great big beetles I have. Fascinating creatures. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-61743128975775797582014-07-16T21:54:00.000-07:002014-07-16T21:54:36.428-07:00Loving an AddictI am open about my depression and panic issues. I talk about my life journey. There is another part of my story, a rather large part I don't speak about. I do so, I say because it is not my story to tell. Yet it is. It affects me. It is part of my depression and anxiety. I love and have loved someone with an addiction problem. Addiction of loved ones is a thread that runs through my life. Loving someone in the throes of addiction is a horrible thing. There is so much information on this subject. I am an avid viewer of television shows about addiction and recovery. I read all the articles I can get my hands on regarding addiction. I study the studies. I want so much to see the answer. Or rather the easy answer. There is none. I want to find <i><b>The Answer</b></i>. I KNOW it is not my problem to fix. I KNOW the addict has to figure it out on their own. I KNOW. Knowing and feeling are two different things. Now let's add on the guilt. What did I do or not do. I KNOW I didn't cause it. It is the addicts choice to use or not. But being entwined in someone's life you cannot help but second and third guess your interactions. I know all about being an enabler. And how to not be one. Tough love. Tougher on the one being tough? I believe so. This is made even harder by someone who has been through treatment before. They know the things to say. They know the dance. And you really, really want to believe them. That they are doing what they are supposed to. Then it hurts so much more when the lies are exposed. Addicts are great at lying. Those who love them become detectives. I am a good one. I am being sneaky to find out their sneaky secrets. Funny, but not really. Now that you know for sure they are not doing what they are supposed to. That they are still using. What to do with the info? Confrontation? Discussion? I have done both. I even took my loved one to treatment. It did not work. Of course not. It was not their choice, their time. So now what? I am not sure. I just feel lost. it hurts so deep. I want to go back to before Momma died. To when my life had some sort of normalcy. I cry. A lot. It is a terrible feeling to know you can't fix something that affects you so very deeply. I listen to others tell their stories. Some are successes and some are not. I know some recovering addicts. There are those in recovery who attend meetings for years and years, who though sober still consider themselves addicts. It is a lifelong battle for some. Others are able to go on with their lives and this is just a blip on their personal radar. I ask them my how to fix it questions. They don't have the answers for me because their stories are just that--<i>their</i> stories. When is MY rock bottom? I don't know. What happens when I reach that point? I don't know. I hate that I don't know. If you are reading this looking for your own answers, I am sorry. I have none. But if you find one will you let me know? Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-6837877197620692002014-07-08T22:39:00.000-07:002014-07-09T15:17:06.227-07:00Living and LearningToday is a brighter day. Not literally, in fact it has been a very gloomy cloudy day outside. I feel lighter today. A very dear friend shared a blog about loving someone with depression. By the way, thank you Stuart. I recognize so much of myself in the article. I <b>am</b> difficult to love and live with. I am very thankful to my family and friends for their patience and understanding. I would think it would make me more understanding of others. And sometimes I am. Sometimes though I am so very not. That is also part of depression. I wish I would not be so self involved. Some days it is about just getting through the next minute. Doing so does not leave a lot of room to be "there" for others. Another friend posted a link to a blog that details what it is like to deal with chronic pain. I have learned a whole lot in one day. I learned that there are so many people dealing with their own private hell. I thought I knew what to say or not to say to my friends who suffer from hidden sicknesses. Just because I have a condition does NOT mean I understand their plight. That was a real "aha" moment for me. Pretty pretentious of me to think I know their life. Apologies all around! No one really knows what any one else is dealing with. That makes us all unique. I have come to think that my illness makes me who I am. It is not separate from me. It is part of me. Would I like it to go away? I am not sure. I have learned so much about myself on this journey. Would I have had those same experiences? Would I have connected with the wonderful people in my life? I don't believe so. I would not trade some of these wonderful people for anything. And the not so wonderful people, well I hope I have learned something in my dealings with them. My journey continues. Learning continues. Isn't that what life is all about? Living and learning. And mini York Peppermint Patties. They are amazing. <br />
Edit: I did not link the blog I was referring too. Thank you Lori! http://www.huffingtonpost.com/literally-darling/loving-someone-with-depression_b_4002503.htmlShellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-67615762211991393802014-07-06T22:41:00.000-07:002014-07-06T22:41:16.228-07:00Let's Pretend The Bloggess tells me that depression lies. I believe her, I believe it. There are other things that I believe about depression. Some of us with it are very good at pretending. I pretend to be well. A lot. I am in customer service. Now do you really want your cashier to tell you that she hates everyone and everything? Or that she feels like death that day? No you don't and neither do I. So I tell everyone I am fine, just peachy. I smile, laugh and joke with folks. My outside and my inside are on different planets. I pretend with my family. You would think those closest to you can figure it out. But really everyone is dealing with their own stuff so they don't notice what I think they should. I deal with my ups and downs as best I can. Sometimes I can even lie to myself and pretend I am fine. I don't know if anyone is ever "fine". I have faded away from people and they don't notice. I wonder if one day I will just fade away from everyone and everything. Just be a total hermit. But my house is not my haven either. Probably a good thing. If it was I could comfortably stay inside and not deal with anyone or anything. But it isn't and I can't. I choose the next best way out. I sleep. And sleep. Only getting up for a few minutes to take care of my animals. They are innocent bystanders in my depression war. I have to get up and feed and water them. They have to have their needs met no matter what my needs feel or think. I wonder what would happen if I did not have them, would I get up at all? My family is able to take care of themselves. In fact some times I would not eat at all if not for my husband or son. I tell myself I am tired from a tough week. But really I just don't want to deal with anything. I want to escape. I sleep. I dream. I wallow in my darkness. Eventually though I have to get up. And that is when the guilt kicks in. I am sleeping away my life. I will get up. I will do laundry. I will get some things done. I will pretend. When all I really want to do is crawl back in my bed and cry and sleep some more. I wonder how many of us are going through our lives pretending? I wonder if I am missing the people fading away from me. Tomorrow I will get up and go to work. I will pretend. I am very good at it. But maybe I will open my eyes a bit more and see if I can tell who else is pretending. Maybe I can recognize a kindred spirit. Let them know I see their pretending and I see their pain. I know they are not "fine". Maybe I can help them. Maybe we can help each other. And then I will take a nap. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-52558494325564207182014-06-13T01:00:00.001-07:002014-06-13T01:00:56.541-07:00Happy Birthday to Me. Or not. Today is my birthday. Or rather yesterday was since I am writing this after midnight. Last year I hated my birthday. It was the first year that momma wasn't here to wish me a happy special day. We do not celebrate our birthdays but Momma always said it was a day special to her. We got a special lunch or dinner. It was rough that first one without her. This time was different, my heart still aches to hear her say it one more time, but I was not a complete wreck about it all day. Let's discuss how I spent my "special" day shall we? I woke up at what seems to be my new wake up time, 4:00am. Today I embraced it. I got up and had my dandelion tea with a pop tart, oh who am I kidding I ate both pop tarts. MMM breakfast of champions. Then as 8:00am rolled around I decided I could use some more sleep. So I did! Waking up at 10:00am was wonderful. Now if I could just do that without the annoying disruption at 4:00! I unloaded the dishwasher or as the rest of my family calls it dish storage. Why should we have all these cabinets and drawers? Just keep it all in there, when it is empty and all the dishes are in the sink and on the counters it is time to run it again! I am such a task master to want it emptied and all the dishes put AWAY. Re-loaded the dishwasher and turned it on. Made some scrambled eggs for Hubby. He had some dental work done and a tooth was pulled. He is responding just like you would expect. Horrific pain and he just may die. He was awake long enough to take a pain pill and eat his eggs. Well almost, he was falling asleep with his eggs on his lap. I had to go take care of some errands. When I asked if he needed/wanted anything while I was out he replied food. Now I am thinking about his need to eat soft food so I am making a list in my head of soups or noodles that he would be able to eat. His list: mashed potatoes and gravy, a fish sandwich from McDonalds, and a slurpee. 3 places. I have to go to 3 places. At least 2 and then make the mashed potatoes and gravy. So 3 places it is. He enjoyed his smorgasbord. I did treat myself to a drink from Starbucks. Waged another battle in the ant war we are having this year. So tired of the little monsters in my house! Then Oldest took us all to the movies to see How to Train Your Dragon 2. Wonderful evening. And now I am 48. Much better number, by the way. I hated 47. Just an ugly number in my opinion. 48. In two years I will be 50. 50! I know I will miss Momma on June 12, 2016 just as much as today. I hope I will be able to smile. To say I miss you Momma, and have a wonderful day with my family. Hey a girl can dream can't she? Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8091241343982167678.post-41500540194594095252014-05-30T23:01:00.000-07:002014-05-30T23:01:31.395-07:00New day. New anxiety. I suppose since I am still in the midst of this depression episode I should really not be around people. My son's have been saying my filter is no longer working. No that is not true. My filter has been gone for quite a while now. Seriously. I find that I say things out loud that really should be contained in that thought bubble above my head. I don't mean to. It just happens. Example: in the store if I hear a child being loud or misbehaving I will say something. Out loud. To the embarrassment of my children. I would say Hubby gets embarrassed but he rarely hears me anyway. Never anything out right mean. Just something like, "that child needs a beating". No not really. I wouldn't say that. OK yes I would. I don't really mean it, I am against spanking. It is just something I say. See this is stuff my filter should catch. People can get really offended by that type of remark. You know those shoes with the wheels on them, Heelies. OOO I hate those things. When I see a kid zipping by, I think I wish I had some ball bearings to toss down. Not that I ever would, no one really wants a kid to fall or anything. I actually say out loud "ball bearings". Now this one makes me just sound crazy. That one is OK I suppose. There are a lot of people who think I am nuts anyway. I also find myself answering people who are talking way too loud on their cell phone in public. No one cares that you are wearing blue to the party or that so and so called you a bitch or whatever nonsense that they are blathering on about at top decibel. So I join their conversation. I mean if you didn't want me to comment on it you should not be talking so loud that I have no choice but to hear you, right? Again my filter should be catching this behavior. Nope, slips right through. Some people give me a nasty look. Some people realize that they are talking too loud. Some look at me like I'm the crazy one. Look honey, I'm not the one sharing my life with everyone in Target. On that topic, people who are nuts, why don't we give the crazies blue tooth thingies. That way they can be walking around talking to themselves and no one would notice. They will look like anyone in line at Starbucks. Of course the foil hats are a dead giveaway. So maybe not. These are the things that I think of during the day. Or the things that I think of at night right before I go to sleep. That and why can't I train my dog to go get me a cold water out of the fridge so I don't have to get up. You know the normal stuff. Shellbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16446629072684018841noreply@blogger.com0