Enlighten Me


Why do I even have this blog?  I will never be a serious writer because I don’t take anything as seriously as I should.  I always seem to let these things build up inside me for eons before I decide to write.  I’ve been through a lot of changes and had many recent epiphanies.  I would like to share all of them with you but since I have the attention span of a gnat on crack I will just type and see what comes out.

 

For one thing, my stepmother passed away.  Actually who decided to say ‘passed away?’  I guess someone was trying to come up with a nicer way of saying “My stepmom is dead.  The evil disease called cancer came into our lives and stole her away from us, and she was only 58.”  I guess ‘passed away’ is a little less jarring than that, but that’s what I feel like saying to people.  I go back and forth between crippling sadness and anger about the whole thing.  Not just her death, I mean cancer.  Not just cancer but life being unfair and working our asses off to never manage to rise above the class we were born into.  Not just that but everything else in this cruel world we share with the evil that is cancer, among the many other faces of evil and cruelty.  I can’t be the only one who is just walking around pissed off.  Am I?  I have never met the goals I set for myself.  I will never be who I was supposed to be.  I am not altogether sure I have whatever it takes to be successful.  I take everything too literally and I can’t seem to communicate effectively.  I seemingly see things in a much different way than everyone else.  I spend each and every waking moment of my life in complete awareness of this.  I think that the people who know me…also know the key to my success but are either too afraid to hurt my feelings, or they have the tact to just let it be, or maybe they know me well enough to know better than to open ANY can of worms with me because I. will. lose. my shit.  I don’t want to seem ungrateful for the many wonderful things I have to be thankful for, but that’s not what this is about.  Let’s stick to the subject for once.  Anger.  I am filled with rage and fueled by hate.  I have good days and bad, but for the most part I have reached a phase in my life where I just can’t sit still, everything pisses me off.

 

Some examples?  These are in no particular order, but they will be listed in bullet-points because OCD.

  • Every single driver on the road who isn’t me.  People who seemingly get into their vehicles and are in NO hurry to get ANYWHERE.  I am always behind these people when I am in a hurry, and suffice it to say that if I am in my vehicle, I am already late for something and I need my own designated lane so I can pass up the texters, slow-movers, teenage asshats, old people who should have to retake the driving test after retirement, etc.

 

  • Anyone who assumes that you need a college degree to be relevant.  I have felt more shame in the fact that I am considered to be uneducated than should ever be felt.  Like seriously, I even know I need to let it go already.  I have worked in the accounting field for 17 years.  You don’t need a college degree to do what I do for a living.  What will it get you?  Respect and more money.  Why can’t I just have respect for being really good at what I do?  Why can’t my performance speak for itself?  I have earned respect from colleagues and peers, but I don’t always get it.  Yes, I am a little rough around the edges, yes I use profanity colorful/descriptive words in every fucking sentence…so what???  Don’t most of you wish you could step outside of that cookie-cutter world you live in and be as ballsy as me?  Just a little?  I am who I am.  I’m like 40 now, so the likelihood of my vernacular ‘changing color’ at this stage in the game is exactly NIL.

 

  • Religion.  Ah crap, I know better but I don’t care.  People who gossip and spread lies under the guise of Christianity make me puke.  I am an atheist.  It took me forever to get the guts to say that out loud and it will probably be bothersome for some of my family members to read it, but I make no apologies.  My daughter said the other day, “You’re just as atheist as I am, I just believe in one less god than you do.”  Brilliant.  She probably saw it on Tumblr but it was still so freaking true.  My son said “Religion is to Athiesm as Sex is to Abstinence.”  He heard that little gem from Bill Maher.  Also true, a common misconception among Christians is that atheists worship the devil or that we have no morals.  Nothing could be more false.  I raise my children with morals, I tell them not to lie, steal, rape, pillage, etc.  They know right from wrong and they learn it at home.  We are civilized human beings who have made the conscious choice to NOT believe in something because it just didn’t make sense.  What kind of parent would I be to tell my kids, ‘Yeah I know it doesn’t make any sense, but your job isn’t to question it, just to believe it.’??  So go ahead and get all judgy and shun me; I’d like to say I don’t care, but I do.  It actually hurts that instead of trying to hear my side of it, people choose to keep those blinders on and assume I am lost.  I am not on the same path you are on, it doesn’t make me lost.  We are going in different directions, and each of us have a separate purpose.  I could quite literally go on for days about this one, but I will leave it for now.

 

  • People who tell me what I need to do.  I have full understanding of what is expected of me in this life, both at work and home.  I am not a fan of bossy people.  Sometimes people don’t even know they are bossy.  Perfect example, writing.  Yes, I know I should ‘carve out’ time to write more.  I have come to the realization that the ship I should have boarded (the one that takes me to my dreams of being paid to write funny stuff) has sailed.  I am actually cool with it.  My life and circumstances aren’t conducive to a writing career, unless someone wants to raise my kids and pay my bills until the writing paychecks come in.  I am very critical of my writing and I don’t like to share it.  Two reasons, the aforementioned criticism as well as piracy.  You can’t be the funny person in the group and not have people shoplift your schtick, trust me.  It’s worse when you write.  My thoughts are mine, I don’t need anyone misquoting me or taking credit for my words, spoken or written.

 

  • People who are self-involved and over-share.  I get it, everyone is self-involved to a degree.  I am guilty of turning the conversation back to relevant similarities to my life.  I try to catch myself doing that and stop it.  It is just how I communicate though, I try to relate to your story by taking myself to the place you are in, and I do this by sharing a story where I was in a similar place.  It even annoys me that I do it.  I’m not talking about that as much as people who take a new selfie each day and post it on social media, or tell everyone each and every facet of their life.  I have like 400 ‘friends’ on facebook.  I don’t tell each and every one of those people about every meal I eat or every time I take a shit, or every time I go to the doctor, or when my aunt is sick, or any other attempt to garner attention.  You should have a close circle of friends, and those are the people you share (privately) your struggles with. Not every single thing about your life is suitable or interesting enough for mass consumption.

 

  • Lists.  This one’s getting long so I’m done with it.

 

  • Wait, one more, last one.  Promise.  Kanye.  That’s it.  I hate that dude.  What an assclown.  Am I right??

 

I think the point of life is to learn as much as you can and be aware of the impact you make.  Plain and simple.  I feel like we should use our precious resource of time as exactly that; a precious resource.  I worry that the more I learn, the more I realize how little I know.  I worry that the closer I become to ‘enlightened'; the closer I am to dying.  The only thing I really care about is making sure my kids have a great life.  I want to be a good mom and a good wife.  I want them to know that they are loved so much and that literally every single thing I endure is so that they can thrive.  Moms are wired differently than dads.  I just thought of this.  The other morning I was watching my husband as he put our 6-year-old daughter’s hair in a ponytail.  I lovingly giggled, it brought a tear to my eye as I was thinking of how grateful I am that he is a wonderful dad and husband.  So I told him just that.  Then he replied with “I try to be.”  Then I almost immediately ruined the whole scene because I thought out loud ‘Nobody EVER tells me I am a good mom.’  I put her hair in a ponytail 90% of the time, I am responsible for 90% of her baths and I do 100% of her fingernail/toenail grooming.  But that’s expected of me.  How is it that the society we live in pours accolades onto dads who do some of what moms do every single day??  He’s a good dad, don’t get me wrong, but why am I praising him up one side and down the other for doing something I do each day that goes completely unnoticed?  See??  Anger.  All the time about every little thing.

 

On that note, thanks for reading and take care of yourself and each other.

I really do want world peace.

Stick

 



Bright Ideas


Have you ever felt as though (metaphorically speaking of course) life is like a huge storm?  I feel like I am being tossed about, occasionally being hit by debris in a big swirling mess of a life-tornado.  I feel like the only time I ever bother to sit down and write is when I find a branch on the tree of knowledge…and I cling to it with everything I can muster, hoping the wind will die long enough for me to stop my white-knuckling grip and let a little bit of this out.  When I catch my breath for a moment, I share it here.  Lately I have had some ‘mini-epiphanies’ if you will.  I have had a lot of realizations and in the midst of my ‘life-storm’ have begun to find my place, get my bearings and sort some of my thoughts.

 

I think of my life thus far as a series of coincidences and mishaps that have led me to the place where I belong.  I live in a really happy place.  I have a wonderful husband and three healthy kids.  Our house isn’t the smallest or biggest, we aren’t the richest or the poorest, and we try our best not to measure our success based off comparison to others.  We are almost impervious to the outside universe in this little shelter of love we’ve created here.  I have been out and about and social more lately than I have been in a very long time.  In these gatherings I have attended I have learned some things about myself.  For one, I realize that my friendship is actually valuable to my group.  That is not what I tell myself when I am here in the bubble I have created.  It brings me an overwhelming sense of worth and makes me feel needed and loved.  I have gained some ground and strengthened some relationships.  I have also (in some of my little light-bulb moments) distanced myself in other relationships and all the while I have felt like I have nurtured my spirit and the spirit of those around me.  That, my friends is called love.  Love:  The willingness to give or withhold in order to nurture ones’ own or another’s spiritual growth.  It’s very ironic that I learned that definition from my ex-husband.  He has taught me more about human nature than I ever cared to learn.

 

I think my place in this world is one of example in unconditional love.  I can’t change who I am at the core.  None of us can.  In trying to enlighten my children about the nature of humans, I needed to tell them  that people never really change.  In my attempt to explain human nature, I compared people to the planet earth.  The earth we see is ever-changing.  The seasons will aid in killing and reviving the nature around us.  Our pollution or care will nurture or kill parts of her; but at the center of the earth there’s a core that won’t ever really be much different.  I told them people are similar to the earth in this way.  They are who they are to the very core.  Sure, their behavior might change, they might surround themselves with different people or situations, but they will always go back to who they are.  Think about this.  It works in nearly every scenario.  If a person strays away into a different lifestyle or starts to go down a dark path, you can rest assured, they won’t be gone for long because it isn’t who they are at their core.  The same goes for a person who is truly rotten (to the core, get it?) because they can fool you for a while, but will eventually return to who you already know them to be.  This little gem of an epiphany helped me show my kids how to be aware of people around them and it also gave them a way to be watchful and remember advice from their dear old mom.  Now, think of a person in your life who has perhaps been deceitful, then nice, then ultimately deceitful again.  Earth.  You’re welcome.

 

My advice has been often unsolicited and for that I am mostly sorry, I don’t want to be the asshole who inserts my opinion into your life when you didn’t ask me.  I feel the inherent need to help when I can see where things are heading.  If I am talking with you or have befriended you, there is an unconditional love between us that forms instantly.  I can’t help it.  It’s a bit intense.  I feel the need to build you up and make you see the good that there is in you and all that is around us.  Am I a hippy?  Maybe a little.  I can tell you that I am definitely weird.  I can tell you that as humans in this day and age, people don’t know how to take me.  I get odd looks, I know people whisper.  I choose to tell myself that people know that my heart is true and my intentions are pure.  My family and friends know that I have no ill will and that my intent always comes from a place of love.  Sure I have days when I want to cut a bitch.  I mean, who doesn’t??  But I always come back to this place where I want to be helpful.  I want to give everything I have; all things material or spiritual or anything I can do to help.  As it turns out, my advice can be useful sometimes.

 

My lessons in this life have all come from my experience or the willingness to observe and absorb.  I know that the hardest job in the world is being a parent.  I know that if we are doing it right, we are always thinking ‘Did I do that right?’  Some people are fortunate enough to have had wonderful examples in their parents.  Others have only the mistakes of their parents to start from.  It’s a tricky game.  As I was just telling a friend today, I dance along this very thin line with parenting.  On one side of the line, you can be sensible and talk with your kids about life lessons and tell them just enough to keep their attention and maybe have them learn from you; and right on the other side of this practically invisible line…there is a place where you say too much and scare the shit out of them.  The main thing is to be ever-present and hope that at the end of the day, they know that you love them and that you are a human being; not just a booze-guzzling cursing maniac who occasionally gets them pizza.  Just me?  Oh.

 

All kidding aside; I feel like if we all have to label ourselves with something I would call myself a nurturer and giver of love…the comic relief in most situations…the one with a witty comment at the ready…the one who doesn’t have a glamorous occupation but has a place in this world nonetheless…just like the other people who are droning about cubicle farms.  None of us is better than the other.  We all have two things in common.  One – we all suffer.  Each of us has something(s) that we struggle with.  Two – we all could use a little less hate and a lot more love.  We all want to feel like we matter and we all need to be built up.  Wait, that was more than two things.  We are all just trying to get through this game and come out a winner.  We are all want things to be better than they are.  I hope this doesn’t sound like I am a know-it-all.  I am quite the opposite.  It just so happens that when an idea hits me I feel like I can’t sleep until I write about it…and I happen to have ownership of a little website called Padinkydink…so I spill my guts on the world wide web.

 

I am not going to make promises or post intentions.  All I can do is say that I am hopeful that the bug has bitten me and I will write more.  It does help give me a sense of purpose. It also gives me the hope that in seeing just how easy it is to spill a little bit of your guts, that I can convince some other people to do the same, and so on.  Just like that time I bought lunch for the next person in line at Burger King.  I am trying to pay it forward and hopefully this won’t backfire on me like THAT did.  Speaking of advice … if you plan to be nice and buy lunch for someone, do it in the drive-through.  Then you can say, ‘Hey how much is the total for the car behind me?…I’d like to contribute $10 to their total, please tell them to Pay It Forward.’  I did not do that.  Long story short…Madi and I were out shopping and decided to stop at the BK lounge (AKA Burger King) so LIVE, in person, I made friends with a sweet old lady in line at the counter.  It had just started snowing and she had a hole in her sweater, no coat.  She let us go in line in front of her, and something came over me so I offered to buy HER lunch…Madi and I had just paid $11 and some change for our lunch when I got this little epiphany to “do good”…and $27.00 later I made an old lady cry (tears of joy of course) and taught my daughter a valuable lesson…the pay it forward thing of course…and you know…ONLY do that shit in the drive-through.

 

Love, peace, Chicken Grease…

[]D@D!n|<yd1nK



Colonosco-3


I almost called this blog “Poop Bloggy-Blog”.  Just returned home from colonoscopy numero tres.  Same results as the last two.  I’m perfectly fine and all I need to do is to drink more water.  I call bullshit but I’m no doctor.  The reason for the latest snaking is that I was in the hospital for 4 days a month ago due to some pretty awful pain when I make deuces, and I also lost 3 pints of blood, that is all I will say, no need to be too graphic.  The reason for this blog is to hopefully update everyone all at the same time so that I don’t have to repeat this story forty-eleven times.

So I always write blogs in my head while I am waiting for my turn at the snake, and today was no different.  Well, I guess there is one difference, I am still a wee bit high from the anesthetic, so this one should be a scorcher, and I am not going to edit this.

Prep time:

This prep was different than the last two, no devil vomit.  Instead I was to begin yesterday at 3pm by taking 2 Dulcolax.  Have you ever taken Dulcolax?  I have.  One does the trick, but I had to take two. Then at 5pm, I had to begin drinking 64oz of Miralax mixed with any beverage that wasn’t dairy or red in color, 8oz at a time until I completed 64 oz of it.  Seems simple enough.  WRONG-O.  Turns out, even though Miralax is technically flavorless, it makes you feel like hammered crap.  At 7pm (or 8, I don’t remember really) take 2 more Dulcolax to round out the evening of fun.

I followed most of these instructions.  I weighed 100 pounds when I started this procedure.  I don’t think the 64oz applies to me, but I gave it my best shot.  I ended up gutting down just under 32 oz of it before my stomach refused to take in any more of it.  But I did take all 4 Dulcolax.  You would think that I would have been ‘making doubles’ like a boss, right?  Wrong again chief.  The only thing that happened was what I like to call a starvation headache.  I finally took 1.5 Vicodin at around midnight and it knocked me out.  I woke up at 3am, still nothing.  I took the day off work today to do this procedure, so no matter what, I have to get down to business.  I started pushing around on my guts, and voila!  I feel as though I may have given you too much detail already, so let’s just say I spent the rest of my morning until about 6am taking care of business.

Travel time:

We live kinda far away from the hospital where I was having the procedure done.  The ride in the car was amazing.  I had to stop twice to do a couple more transactions, then on to traffic where we sat completely still for what felt like hours.  We ended up getting there 20 minutes late.  The first person I encountered asked me if I was pregnant.  Um, nope.  But I still had to make my dehydrated 95 pound body (yes, I lost 5 pounds) manufacture urine so that they could do a pregnancy test.  FUN!

Pokey time:

Look, I am not one to make fun of people with speech impediments (much) but the nurse who administered my IV had one.  She sounded like Barbara Walters and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.  No worries, I don’t care.  She’s an RN, so she’s obviously educated, her parents opted not to help her lock that down by the age of 10, it’s not her fault…moving on…

So she asks me where I prefer to have my IV.  I guess most folks who don’t get IV’s very often probably don’t care, but I prefer the top of my left hand.  It’s least invasive and I have really good veins, which is a good thing because I loathe needles, especially when they place a catheter in my hand that’s gonna be there for a while.  The moment she stuck me I knew she jacked it up.  When it’s good, it doesn’t hurt, and this one hurt like a mother.  After she asked me all the standard health survey questions, she noticed the IV wasn’t dripping like it should, and what do you know?  It wasn’t working at all, instead there was a giant pocket of IV fluid on the back of my hand.  MULLIGAN!  So she apologized and in good spirit I said, “Well if that’s your worst one all day, at least you got it out of the way in the morning” and she acted offended by that.  Like it was really MY fault somehow.  Ok(?) So she takes that one out and is going up on the bend of my arm, there…that’s better.  It didn’t hurt.  However, the tourniquet made the hole in my hand make a mess on the floor.  Good thing I didn’t see that.  Actually thinking about it makes me get kinda schweatty.  I won’t give you a play-by-play of that, but she gave one to me.  Bad idea.  I had nothing to vomit, but if I did, I would have.

I received an entire bag of IV fluid in just under 20 minutes, did the preggers test (passed) and then got to meet the anesthesiologist.  She was a pretty lady who was telling me all about the druggy-treats I was about to receive.  Then they wheeled me in.  She put the oxygen on my face and said it would probably annoy me, but I told her I have always thought it smelled like pancakes and syrup, or Kahlua.  She responded by saying “Oh I’ll give you your Kahlua in just  a minute.”  I love her.

The last thing I remember was watching her push the white happy juice into my arm then the next thing I knew I woke up in recovery.  I waited 4 weeks since my hospital stay to do this, so whatever was ailing me when I was there is no longer ailing me.  Ship shape she said.  It’s frustrating but also a relief that I don’t have Crohn’s or Ulcerative Colitis.  Now I am sitting here enjoying all 6 of these blueberry muffins I just baked.  All is well that ENDS well, get it??

 

Peace, Padinkydink<-(get it?)



Excerpts From A Racing Mind


I know you know the words to ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ and you know the part ‘be good for goodness sake?’  I think we should all do that.  I have learned that this life often deals not-so-favorable hands to people who deserve to have an ace in the hole, and deals all aces to the jerks who don’t even deserve a chance to be in the game.  More often than not, I have been one of the schmucks who gets dealt the crap hand, whereas the other guy seems to always win.  When life gets you down, the easy thing to do is give up.  Sometimes the first thing I think to do is just level the playing field and be a shady person, that way I am treating others the way I am often treated.  But if I do that, others may follow suit and before you know it, there will be no more decent people in this world.  Though I feel (and probably look) foolish for continuing to be kind even when kindness isn’t reciprocated, I will never stop.  I am not trying to sound like a goody-goody or behave as though I am perfect or without flaw, because believe me, that is far from the truth.  I will however say that I am basically a good person who tries to set a good example for my kids to live by, and I fail at it miserably most of the time, but my intentions are always good.

 

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus inside each of us, there are still good people in this world who recognize that we need positive change, and we need to love our fellow man, to be good to one another and hope that it catches on. We need to evolve into a society that recognizes that the way we’ve always done things has brought us to where we are, and this isn’t a perfect place.  There is no progress without change.  It’s still OK to hold on to the hope that when we leave this place, we have spread knowledge and become more self-aware and maybe even become more refined or enlightened.  I want to be a million things I will never be, I am cool with that.  I want to say a million things I will not likely ever have the courage to say, but I will continue to move forward.  I am not sorry and I don’t owe an apology to anyone for not meeting their expectations.  I am the best me I can be.  I, like you, struggle with the goals I have not yet achieved; I too criticize myself and hope that everything will just work out.  I have found that the more you make, the more you should give, and the more you take, the more will be taken from you.  If you are good, it will come back to you, and the same goes if you are bad.

 

I am a lucky chick.  I have a happy life filled with love.  I have been fortunate to find a mate who holds the same morals and ideals as me, and we mesh together very well. My husband is the reason I know that all things happen in the exact order in which they are supposed to happen.  Ours is a true love story that proves there is a reason for every single moment, especially the bad ones.  We have 3 healthy children who mold us into better humans.  It’s amazing how you can learn from a child who thinks on a much simpler level, we often over-think and complicate things.  Children don’t do that.  They think of the quickest way to resolve things because all they really want to do is please their caretakers.  Good or bad, they want to make us happy, to them we are the center of the universe.

 

I am constantly meeting people who teach me about myself, who inspire me and remind me how very precious and fleeting life is.  If you think about it, you do too.  I complain about certain facets of my life but overall I have a terrific world that I have worked hard to attain and will continue to make better.  I look back on my past and think of how foolish I was when I was younger, and wish for enough time to say sorry to everyone I have hurt.   I know there isn’t enough time and it deeply bothers me that I have used words or actions to make people feel badly, and I wish I could undo a lot of what I have done, but I am moving forward because there is no way to undo all the wrongs.  There is only now and tomorrow, and so on.  Letting go of past hurts, including the hurts I have inflicted on other people, is a difficult endeavor for me.  I want to right the wrongs, but the embarrassment and remorse I have felt is the Karma I deserve, and I know that and I live with it every day.  Hopefully one day I will have mastered the art of  ‘letting go’ because it’s a hurtful process that seems to take a lifetime…maybe that’s what this lifetime is for me, the one where I learn to let myself feel the pain, then let the pain stay in the past so that I can grow.

 

The time to stop being petty and fighting to have the last word is now.  The time to treat everyone with equality and without harsh judgment is now.  The time to be better is always now.  I have always wanted so badly to live a life free from mistakes or social blunders but I am not that chick.  It’s just not in the cards for me.  I’m weird, I’m funny, I’m the one who says the wrong thing and has the worst timing.  I am the one who is nice to you even when you are not nice to me, and so far that hasn’t panned out for me, or has it?  When you reflect on your life, how do you measure your success?  Is it by your material goods or is it by the happiness you feel?  If I’m being honest, I do both.  I don’t like me when I am materialistic and shallow, and I like me even less when I say negative things (especially about other people) and we all are guilty of these things.  I am working to be a better person so that I can teach this to my children, and they can teach their children, and so on.

 

Do something nice for someone.  Then, do it again.  Measure your success by how far you can get others to go to pay it forward, and you will be rich.

 

Peace

 

 

 

 



Withering


Today I caught a glimpse of a show featured on OWN (The Oprah Winfrey Network), I know, I know.  James walked through the living room when he saw it and immediately asked if he could change the channel.  He was only in the house for a moment to use the bathroom, on his way out the door to continue to do yard work, but he knew…if I watched anything on OWN he was going to have to hear about it later.  I will spare him from the details, for one thing I don’t think he reads my blog, and for another he has already heard me say this stuff before.  He doesn’t even take me seriously.  That in and of itself should tell me something.

 

The guest on this show was Author Elizabeth Lesser, she wrote ‘Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow’.  I called my best friend and told her about it after watching the first 5 minutes of it.  I watched only 5 minutes more and I had to turn it off.  The words and story of Ms. Lesser hit so painfully close to home with me I couldn’t watch another moment.  I was easily brought to tears, and then reflected on my own life and as I always do, I said aloud, “I have GOT to make some changes.”  The premise of the book, and the meaning behind the title “Broken Open” is that she said we as individuals are all wound up really tightly like the bud of a rose.  We could easily stay safely wound in our ‘bud’ and never change or do anything, and in doing so we may shrivel up and die on the vine.  But, if we put ourselves out there and follow who we are in our souls, then we break open and follow our destiny.  Usually that happens when something in our lives forces us to do so.  Sure, there are brave souls among us who can venture out beyond our comfort zones and take risks.  There are people who fly by the seat of their pants, and in their lives they endure heartache and rejection and are resilient to failures.  But most of us (me included) fear exactly that.  What if I try something and take a risk and then I lose?  What if I do something and it doesn’t work?  I have had my share of heartaches.  I have been in a shitty marriage followed by an even shittier divorce.  I got myself and my kids out of it.  Had I not done that, I would have shriveled up and died there.  I don’t look at that as a risk I took, but a necessity for my sanity and for the love of my babies.  I thought that part of my life was over, but still, 8 years after that situation has ended, I am still finding out more things that happened during that marriage that I was oblivious to, and even though I am happily married to a wonderful man now, hearing about how foolish I was then stings no less now.

 

But I digress, that isn’t really why I am feeling the need to break open now.  I am miserable in other ways.  I am a creative person who loves to write and share funny things and entertain people.  I want to somehow parlay that into a career of writing.  I really believe I can help people who have been in my shoes.  I believe I have answers within me that can change other peoples’ lives for the better.   However, I am currently not following that dream.  I am currently doing accounting for a living.  I am going to shrivel up and die.  I die a little each day when I have to drag my head off the pillow, and my feet to the floor, walk to the shower, to iron my business casual outfit for the day, to fix my hair, to put on makeup, to brush my teeth, to get in my car, to drive there, to walk the country mile from my car to the door, down the stairs into the florescent cube farm to spend 8 mind-numbing hours in the nerdery on my adding machine counting the minutes until I can clock out and go home.  Then, the precious few hours I have with my family are tainted by my disdain for my career and my unhappiness and I am wasting everyone’s time and keeping a short fuse and not being the best Lesley I can be.

 

I hope that I don’t get fired for writing this, and if I do I guess that will force me to break open and finally end my misery,  but I do not find my day job to be rewarding.  I do not fit in there.  I do not know how to relate to people who want to work in an office environment.  I need to be here or anywhere else being a writer or start a vlog or something, almost ANYTHING else but that.  And to make it even better, my direct supervisor doesn’t like me.  It’s exhausting.  I feel like I am going to panic sitting here right now knowing I am less than 12 hours away from 8 more hours of it tomorrow.  I thought I was one step closer to something new and exciting.  My husband bought me a camera to mount in my car so that my conversations with my daughter in the morning could be webcast on a YouTube channel, but ALAS the fucking thing didn’t record sound.  So now it is sitting upstairs on a dresser collecting dust until he sends it back.  It seems there is always some roadblock or reason or way that my dream is on hold.  I just want to get up off my ass already.  I also want to scream and punch shit.

 

I am good at what I do.  I don’t ever just sit there and do other stuff or ignore the importance of what I am doing, but I do loathe it.  I file the stuff I am supposed to file, I call the people I am supposed to call, I complete all my assigned tasks each and every painstaking one of them.  I am not complaining because I need the advice of my readers.  I am complaining because it gives me a reason to do something to make a change.  I do not have a college degree, and I have NO desire to get one.  I am painfully aware that I am the ONLY person working there who does not have one.  I believe the fact that I not only hold my own but excel in what I do there is a testament to the fact that I don’t need a degree.  I admit it does kinda sting a little to hear everyone around me talk about college and how it was when they went and I do feel like I missed out on something there.  I am the only woman in my office who has 3 children.  Everyone else has 0-2 children.  I am social with only one or two of my co-workers because the rest of them probably whisper about how weird I am.  I struggle each day to fit like a square peg in a round hole.  I wish I could be like them just so the misery would be less, but I am not.  I am outspoken, age-inappropriate, not Catholic like the rest of them seem to be, a loser who never went to college and I just can’t seem to make things click.

 

I am not going to go back and re-read this.  I am going to post it “raw” because that’s the only way to have it be what I am really trying to say.  I am buying a copy of that book.  One day I hope to shelve it next to my very own and maybe be an esteemed author who helps another misfit such as myself find a way to make changes.  I just can’t live this life forever because it is quite literally killing me.  Off to go write some more someecards and take vicodin until I can sleep.

 

Love and kisses,

Your bundle of hope, PDNKYDNK