Places of safety.

I have places and people that make me feel safe. I don't usually think about it much. I guess it makes me feel a little uncomfortable. Apart of me believes that I should be able to feel safe no matter where I am. That, however, is simply not the case. If I'm not somewhere I do feel safe or with some one that makes me feel safe, I am somewhere between fear and ... wary caution.

If I don't feel safe, I work very hard to maintain as neutral of a response to my environment as possible. If the context of where I am demands a more happy air, I would supply it, but I strive not to be one to allow persons close to me in those settings that I don't know.

Perhaps it is because some where down deep inside, I am still a victim. I don't know. It makes me uncomfortable to admit that. It also makes me feel a deep sense of shame. I feel shame for the fact that I had been victimized in the past. I feel shame for the fact that my efforts to prevent that victimization failed.

Usually, that shame doesn't even enter into my thoughts. It's something that's been fairly well eradicated from my daily thoughts. Thank goodness for competent councilors and years of effort, as well as having wonderful people supporting me. At times, however, it does come back to mind. And then.. then I just want to hide because I feel that I shouldn't even show my face because my mere presence sullies the room, just by the fact that I failed to protect myself. And at those times, I also desperately want some one to take me into their arms and hold me, to push aside that horrible choking feeling of shame by the pure force of their will, telling me all of the good that there is in me to help me see past it.

When I'm somewhere I feel safe, I'm insulated from that shame. Just as when I'm with some one who makes me feel safe. Then, I can let myself express pretty much everything. I'll take risks and do foolish things. I will laugh more easily and allow myself to be as affectionate as I want, all to my heart's content. I am an extremely affectionate person, I just keep it on a tight leash. Being affectionate seems to get you hurt alot in this world, so you need to keep it restrained until you're somewhere or with someone who won't hurt you for the sake of doing so.

That fact is one that breaks my heart. It's one of the reasons why I cry at night sometimes when I think no one is awake or listening. The fact that the world is so... so full of people who'll hurt others for no reason then the fact that they can is a terrible tragedy.

Thoughts on an evening.

This will seem a non sequitor, but since when has a person's thoughts been required to make sense?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was shock and delight that you saw on my face. Sometimes, I can't help it. I get so caught up in the sensations and I can't really do anything. That was one of those times. It's like... it's like feeling pleasure so intense that you can't quite breathe properly, never mind see straight, and you're not sure if you'll continue to stand up if you move.

I think that may have disturbed you or upset you. I'm sorry if it had, I really was perfectly fine. I was just rather overwhelmed by such a sudden rush of sensation.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You know, sometimes, sometimes I can't stop thinking about things like that. It's not like I fixate on it and ... well, maybe I do fixate on it, I don't know. I've always felt a little embaressed about the fact that I can get so utterly captivated by what I'm feeling and that ... well, it's like I'm drownding in emotion, sensation, and something more... ephemeral that's only present when such games are played. And I don't mind it, which sounds a bit odd given my past. Actually, probably alot more then odd, maybe a bit closer to sounding down right disturbing to most people.

But it's a rush that very little in life has ever compared to. On one hand, I am afraid to let myself be fully caught up in it. So, when I'm surprised, it's even more intense and I react like I did the other day. I'm afraid that I'll get so collapsed into that experience that I won't come out of it, I won't be able to function normally. Being responsible and adult even as you're utterly distracted, among other things, is somewhat ... well, I guess it's mutually exclusive. I fear this part of my psyche because it's such a potent force within me and it's always there.

At the same time, however, I want... no, I need to experience that heart stopping ecstacy almost as much as I need to breathe. It's a ... it's something that I crave. It's not like some silly thing where you really enjoy chocolate, for example, and justify your indulgence by saying that you craved it. It's closer to the maddening hunger for vegetables and chicken that I had when I was pregnant with my boy. God, I wish it was as simple as just that I was indulging a sweet tooth. Then, I think, I wouldn't find myself having times where I am trying to put so many aspects of my life into that context.

I can go thru a day and find so many ways to put things into the context of games of power play. Never mind the more physical elements of it. Mind you, when I do find the fleeting mental images come to mind of different scenes, it's with sufficent intensity where I can almost feel it. I have a very... vivid imagination and I've worked years on attuning my skills at visualization for other practices. Unfortunately, when my imagination decides to run away on me, it likes to hijack those skills for it's own purposes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I don't really know what to say now. There's so many things that I want to say and yet so many things that I'm terrified to say. And I don't even know if it's a conversation that I should have. It's rather confusing to be in a relationship like the one my husband and I have. It's even more confusing when I can't even figure out how to make sense of the things going thru my mind, even as my husband tells me that it's fine for me to consider those things and he'd only want to have a bit of a plan before any action was taken.

I probably should stop now. It's... it's something that has one part of my brain saying that this is all foolish nonsense, another part saying that it's dangerously stupid, and ... so much more.

I will say this, though, in that moment, I would have done almost anything for more. And I haven't been able to get that out of my head.

Good for a giggle.

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Half of a confession.

I can't fully voice this. So, I am going to only say what I can comfortably, or at least as comfortably as is possible at the moment.

I think of it often, more so when I find I'm fustrated. Ideas and images that come to mind are so... so very intense that I can almost feel it at times. Sometimes ideas strike me so strongly that I can't shake them.

The thought of being restrained is one that frequently comes to mind. The image that comes to mind the most recently is that of arms pushed back and tied together. I could say more, but it's just too... to much at the moment.

I wish I knew what to do with it all. I can't exactly write this down. But I don't know how to voice it.

Fear.

He who lives in fear never really lives. He is a prisoner of death, dying a thousand deaths a day. ~ an old proverb

Fear tends to stalk me thru my day on a regular basis. I genuinely hate it. I'm not sure what is worse, being depressed or dealing with chronic anxiety. Either way, it really does feel like I'm a prisoner. There's this horrible hypercritical monster in the back of my head that is always telling me what I'm doing wrong, what I'm forgetting to do, or that I'm failing somehow, somewhere to do something that needs done.

It's a lot worse when I'm depressed. I can't say that I feel that I'm all that helped by anti-anixety medications. Sure, it does do wonders. It tones down the 'volume' of that little monster, but it doesn't make it go away. There's alot of ads out there which presents this false picture that anti-anxiety medications and anti-depressants will magically reverse the condition and give you some type of euphoria.

My experience has been closer to having these medications serve to dull the edge of it and blunt the sharpness of that internal criticism. This is in addition to the fact that I find myself feeling apathetic towards everything. I'm left wondering, what on earth do you do to master fear? I'm getting sick of these drugs. They're really not that good for me, I know that in my gut.

Dieting stragegies.

Well, I've been trying to stick to a healthy diet. I generally do eat fairly healthy, though I think my portions are a bit too large. That said, I've been doing what I can to gradually move away from junk food and bad habits (like skipping meals). I figure if I can get my portions under control, use only healthy foods in my diet, and break my bad habits, I can accomplish two goals.

My first goal in all of this is to become healthier. I remember just how difficult it was when my lungs were causing me a lot of problems a few years ago. I recognize that some of the problem was due to weight and lack of proper exercise. I don't want to be in that position again, it was rather scary. No, scary is an understatement. It was terrifying to be left wondering if I was going to wind up in the hospital on a nebulizer or having some other treatment for my breathing possibly for the rest of my life. Looking at that prospect before you're even 25, well, it's pretty damn terrifying. That was a really rough year.

My second goal is to put forward a good role model for my son and the other children around me. The children of both my brothers, they've got their own bit of weight problems. My sister-in-law is struggling to show her girls how to eat healthy, but she's got some family members that are sabotaging her efforts. Slipping the girls junk food and such after their mom said no or letting them have what ever foods they want (or protesting when their mother doesn't do that) are just two of the stupid things that they do. I see how hard my sister-in-law struggles and I recognize that she's done a lot of great work herself. I admire that and I want to accomplish this for myself.

There are two good reasons to be doing this. I think they're reasons to be proud of. It's not like I want to fit into that bikini that I've got in the closet this summer. Though I admit, that would be kind of nice. I've only worn it for one season, then I got pregnant. I'd like to have the opportunity to use it again.

My problem, however, is my strategy is just not working. At first, I decided that I would just eat when I felt hungry. Then I found myself swinging back and forth between not eating properly and eating when I was bored or upset. So, I decided that I would cut out emotional eating. That's been something of a chore, but I have been making some progress in that area. It's left me, however, unsure what to do with these most uncomfortable feelings. I'll figure something out.

Getting rid of the emotional eating, however, didn't resolve the other problem. So, I thought that I could use small special things to help me stick to things like the eating schedule that I've been trying to keep. It turned into my witholding those special things from myself as punishment for failing to stick to it or doing well with portion control.

So, what on earth am I going to do now? I'm struggling with ideas. I can't afford to go do the weight watchers thing or some other program. I just don't have the money. Heck, I don't even have the money for the anti-anxiety medication/ anti-depressant that I'm taking right now. But, I'm doing that because I have to.

I wish I could think of something, but I'm just stumped and feeling miserable. I look in the mirror and I see myself so close and yet so far away from my goal. I've made a lot of progress but now... I'm stuck and I don't know what to do. It's a terrible thing.

Sexuality, pt 2

Here's a different thing in the same topic arena.

(Perhaps I should make a label for the topics dealing with this... I'll decide later.)

I love the fact that my husband and I have a healthy and active sex life. I hate the fact that I feel limited in expressing just how happy I am with it. I hate how stress manages to get in the way of our expressing ourselves. I really don't like the fact that I need to limit my expression for the sake of the domestic comfort of the neighbors. These are the same people who seem to feel that their drunken outbursts are acceptable for me to hear thru the walls for some reason.

It offends me that I need to lead something of a double life. In public, I can't express myself in this aspect of my personality. It's not because I want to engage in indecent exposure or something else like that (though the thought of public nudity as indecent has almost always irritated me, even when I am feeling extremely body shy). No, the problem that I have is the fact that it's some how viewed as morally wrong for me to be attracted to people aside from my husband. It's even more questionable in the eyes of others for me to be attracted to people of my own gender in addition to men.

What is so wrong with bisexuality? Can some one *please* explain this to me? Seriously, this offends the hell out of me! I'm a woman who happens to be attracted to both men and women. What the hell is wrong with that? This doesn't mean that I don't love or desire my husband. This doesn't mean that I'm disloyal to him. People who assume that he and I are being disloyal on the basis of who ever we may possibly be attracted to outside of our marriage really need to get a god damn life.

This makes me angry as hell, too. Who has the right to tell me how my relationship with my husband is supposed to go? Who aside from my husband and myself has that right? Never mind the fact that our relationship is well within the norms of our own beliefs. Can some one PLEASE tell me why the rest of the town apparently has the right to sneer at me if I am not wearing my wedding ring or if I'm out and about with out my husband?

Mind you, the times where I have encountered this attitude is especially when I'm out running errands with the baby in tow. I feel disgusted and furious, as well as embaressed, by the looks that I get for being out of the house with my baby and not wearing my rings. Never mind the fact that my hands were too large for them to fit me properly for almost a full year between the pregnancy and the weight gain from the pregnancy. What am I supposed to do, apologize to every blue haired little old woman I see for the fact that I'm not wearing my wedding band and pushing a baby stroller, explaining that my husband is at work, then getting him on the phone to prove that we're married?

Do I need a signed note telling me that I can go out of the house and do things with out my husband attendant, or some other relative of mine? Please, somebody, tell me what the fuck is the issue here? I'm seriously getting sick of this small minded bullshit. And these are the people who I'm supposed to let dictate my sexual appetites and preferences? I think most of these dried up sticks are horrified by the fact that they have any distinguishable gender traits.

Quite frankly, I *like* the fact that I'm a woman. It's pretty awesome. Especially the multiple orgasm thing. It's hard as hell to keep in mind that there's nothing wrong with the fact that I'm a woman when I encounter this kind of bullshit on a semi-daily basis.

God, some people really make me angry as fuck.

Sexuality

Some people have a real issue with sexuality of any form. To be honest, I feel that if no one is getting hurt and it's consensual, do what you will. There are some limits that I feel are hard and fast (unintentional puns there, sorry). Sex with children or people who are unable to give fully informed consent is wrong and reprehensible. A child does not have the capacity to make the decision to engage in sex with any sense of the long term ramifications, as a general rule. Consent derived under duress is the same as refusing to listen to denial of consent, as such, it consitutes rape. Engaging in practices that are categoricly unsafe (including various unhygenic ones) is another thing that I just won't do and I highly advise others against doing so.

Now, this said, there are ways to engage in practices that seem to be unsafe or have the potential to be unsafe. This where one needs to be responsible in choosing their partner(s) and in their exercise of the practices they're employing. Bondage can be a beautiful thing and it can also be incredibly exciting. It can also be a thing of very real horror and incredibly dangerous. The difference between the two is responsiblity and consent. Many of the practices used in the BDSM community look to be quite unsafe and horrible to the casual observer. They are generally things that are pushed away to the fringes of sexuality (no one ever breathes a word about it in any of the *college level* sexuality classes even). If you are responsible, set clear limits, and maintain open lines of communication with everyone involved, pretty much any sexual appetite you indulge is fine.

I don't know why the rest of the world doesn't seem to see it this way. Oh, there's nothing wrong with sex but it needs to be within this specific set of circumscribed rules. If you do things a different way, you're going to automaticly be morally suspect and otherwise an undesireable figure. Gods help you if you happen to actually take into account other factors such as emotions, relationships, or anything else of the real world. Suddenly, you find yourself dealing with such a mess of social sterotypes, that it's really quite ugly.

I hate the way society tries to tell me what to do in the bedroom, who to do it with, and how I should feel about it. I hate the way that society attempt to dictate to me what my interests should be and that if I fall outside of those norms, I am somehow flawed as a person and of lesser value.

I think if society at large worried more about how to empower people to take some measure of pride and a healthy acceptance of the diversity of personalities in the world, and less about putting us into boxes, we'd all be better off. Sexuality and relationships included.

Censoring myself.

I've come to the realization that I've been censoring myself again. It's a bit of a bad habit that I have when I'm speaking. I'm not saying that self monitoring is a bad thing, but too much of it can be. I began using this blog as a writing exercise and a place to vent my stress with work and life in general. Somewhere along the way, I started to censor my comments here and this does not help me achieve the goal of this writing exercise.

So, I'm going to stop censoring myself. I recognize that there is a chance that my family may encounter some of these posts and have some hard questions. I can't let that stop me from writing as I feel I should or using this to explore various facets of my writing voice. It's just not fair to me and it also runs counter to the purpose of having this blog. It's not a way to be an exhibitionist about my life, but rather a forum for me to experiment with finding my voice in writing.

I have other blogs that serve different purposes. I've generally done a good job of sticking with the objective that I set out for myself at the outset of using them. As such, I really need to return to the initial goal of this blog. And that means I need to stop censoring myself.

Silliness of the adult variety.

I just lifted this from one of my other friend's blogs. It was good for a giggle.

1. Your Name:
2. Age:
3. Favorite position:
4. Do you think I'm cute?
5. Would you have sex with me?
6. lights on or off?
7. Would you have to be drunk?
8. Would you take a shower with me?
9. Have you ever thought about having sex with me?
10. Would you leave after or stay the night?
11. Do you like cuddling afterwards?
12. Condom or skin?
13. Have sex on the first date?
14. Would you kiss me during sex?
15. Do you think I would be good in bed?
16. Would you use me as a booty call?
17. Can I use you as a booty call?
18. Can we take pictures of the act?
19. How long would we have sex?
20. Would you tell your friends about me?
21. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you?

Answer the questions, if you want. :)

boredom strikes again. :)

Take the quiz at dicepool.com

Hmmm....

Have you ever found yourself so distracted by an idea that it manages to creep into your thoughts on a semi-regular basis? It makes me wonder, is that how obsessions begin? I kinda doubt that I'm obsessing over anything, because it isn't like this idea has taken over my world. Over the last several weeks, however, I'm finding myself quite distracted by the idea that my antidepressants are not working as well as they should be.

It was somewhat amusing that when this idea was really looking like it was turning into a sources of distress there was a big news article about it. I'm not entirely sure how to approach this, though. Not taking them makes these rather ugly thought surge up in roaring volume and I find myself so... listless that I just can't keep up with myself, let alone running a household and caring for the boy. Depression scares the hell out of me, so I want to take every possible route in fending off the beast that I can in good conscience.

That said, I'm finding the anxiety is building again and the thoughts are beginning to creep thru the barrier of numbness and drug induced apathy. I don't know what to do, though. In the past, when I was struggling with rather intense depression and was taking antidepressants, I went thru about four different drugs over the course of as many months. The only one that worked for any period of time is the one that I'm currently on. Even then, I wasn't fully alleviated of my symptoms. It just took the edge off enough so that I could function.

I had something else to add but I forgot what it was. So much for that, but such is life with a kid in the house.

To put it bluntly, I'm furious.

The more I think about it, the angrier I get. Honestly, I think it feels like I just got slapped in the face. The fact that it was the Chief of Police in one of the larger cities in my area said it, well... it just makes me even angrier. Now, some one who is not in Western New York may be wondering just what I'm talking about. Read this link. It's but one of many that detail this story.

Now, some one may wonder just why I'm angry over this. I'm not a resident of this city. I pay no taxes or have anything to do with the government of the city. My only real dealings with it is occasionally purchasing items there and driving thru on my way out of the area on the NYS Thruway to go visit friends. So, I really shouldn't be upset with this whole business, right?

You know, if I didn't give a damn about my rights as a citizen of the United States, I probably wouldn't bat an eyelash over this. You see, if you deprive one citizen of their rights under the color of law, you lay the groundwork for depriving all of us of them. I understand, Rochester has something of a crime problem. I recognize that a large percentage of the people who are caught up in that problem are of African-American descent. I also recognize there is a need to protect the members of the community, including the local government, from violence.

I, however, do not in any way, shape, or form feel that it is appropriate to deny citizens their right to assemble and demand redress of grievances. A statement from the Rochester Chief of Police that was quoted just minutes ago on the local news report made me see red. He states that the people who attended the meeting regarding the appointment of the new public defender had gone with the expressed purpose of disrupting the meeting. He implied, with this statement, that the people who attended the meeting did not have a right to be there!

This makes me livid. The right to assemble and demand redress of grievances is secured for us in the Consitution of the United States of America. It is part of that initial fundamental list of rights known as the Bill of Rights. Indeed, it is part of the First Amendment!

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

I italicized and bolded the portions of interest here. Please, let me rephrase this in an easier to read format.

Congress shall make no law abridging the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Now, the fact that this is true for Congress may encourage some people to state that the legislature of lower levels of government can engage in this. As has been seen in the past on other matters, the Supreme Court of the United States does not support that line of logic. Local, state, or federal government is not allowed to deprive us of our right to assemble and demand justice.

Tell me, how is it that the two bit Chief of Police can advocate such a thing, then? And explain to me how this can be done with out public outcry?

I really want answers on that one.

While you're at it, can somebody give me justification for why our right to be protected from illegal search and seizure is violated daily by the federal government?

It makes me sick to see such gross abuses of the citizens of this nation by the very people who are supposed to protect us. I am becoming increasingly convinced that this is not the republic that my ancestors fought and died for. I don't know what this is, but it's not that. That nation didn't ignore the rights of the people wholesale with out fear of reprisal.

Why I blog (and other musings).

Recently, my parents, husband, and I had an interesting conversation about blogging. First off, she hadn't heard of the term blog or blogging before. Secondly, she didn't comprehend why a person would:

1. Post in a blog
2. Read a blog
3. Comment on another person's blog

To her, the whole thing smacked of gossip and was generally just disgusting to her. She felt horrified that I'd use a blog to rant about work frustrations. I haven't told her that this blog has grown to include my musings on my relationships with her and my life in general. She also thought that it was a sign of social decay, substituting contact via the internet with contact via the phone or verbal conversation. That somehow, this was going to make the other people you interact with less real.

She doesn't have a high opinion of message boards either, in case you were wondering.

It all made for a difficult conversation because her perspective was quite different from the one held by my husband and I. It was not simply her different perspective but also the fact that our perspective was so alien to her that she simply could not begin to attempt any form of viewing the topic from our angle. This made explaining why I blog and use message boards difficult, to say the least. It all got me thinking about the question: why do I blog?

I've got to be honest, I don't really think I have that many readers. I may be horribly wrong, and if I am, I apologize to anyone whom I just offended. This is not some attempt at free-lance journalism. If it was, I would not have it posted up for anyone to read for free. I would be trying to get paid for this work.

In some respects, it is a release for some of the emotional and social pressures I experience during the day. I'm rather homebound this time of year so the vast majority of my socialization is thru the internet right now. Wild winter weather and an infant child doesn't exactly mix that well, especially if you're planning to go and do something with out a second vehicle while your spouse is at work. It just doesn't do so great, trust me. I've tried and decided that when the temperature (or wind chill) is below 30, I'm not taking the baby outside. Sure, it may be robbing him of some precious outside time, but I'm not going to subject my boy to frost bite just so that I can get my socialization fix by gossiping with the ladies down at the post office, a quarter of a mile away. Sorry, but I have a little bit more of a conscience then that.

It's rather difficult to be in a position where your social life is limited to your spouse, child, and phone calls to family. Having the internet makes it alot easier to deal with being in this position, I don't feel quite so caged in. Sure, I get restless (who wouldn't if they're indoors 24 hours a day most days?) but I don't feel quite so trapped. I think that's a good thing for a person who is coping with postpartum depression and is prone to having problems with depression to begin with.

The other reason why I blog is because it is a writing exercise that helps keep me mentally sharp. I've abandoned several of my other pursuits from when I was younger. Partly because I don't have the time to teach myself linear algebra and higher levels of calculus to finally develop my theories and partly because I just don't have the patience for that level of frustration right now. I still love theoretical physics. I think it is just one of the coolest things out there, but I simply don't have the time to play with that right now. Perhaps when my son is older and at school, I don't know.

My writing, however, I have hung on to with a rather dogged determination. Writing is a part of my identity. I recognize that it is the tool by which I cope with my anxieties and can progress down the path of healing from the various psychological traumas that I have experienced in my nearly 30 years on this earth. Writing is also something that I find a deep sense of satisfaction in. It is something that has been a part of my life since I was a small child and able to put together a sentence on paper. It is an inheritance from my beloved Great-Grandmother Hazel (whom has been a powerful influence in my life even today, some 20 years after her death) and also something that is uniquely mine.

If it were possible, I think that I would probably publish my writing for profit. Right now, however, I'm trying to work past a guilt complex over using my talents to earn money. I'm still a bit edgy on the matter of plying my skills in divination for profit. As I become comfortable in this (probably in a few more months), I will begin (again) to try to make money with my writing. It helps, I suppose, to have many, many supportive friends and readers. I have lost count the number of people who have given me constructive feedback and pats on the back to encourage me. That kind of support is valuable beyond any measure or words that I can say.

So, in all of this rambling, I return back to the question of : why do I blog?

I suppose I can summarize it all in this:

I blog because I am a writer. The exercise of writing in a blog that is available to the general public to read serves to make me more comfortable in writing for myself. It also helps to express the various feelings and thoughts that I have off line. Blogging is a tool by which I learn more about myself and the world around, as such, I will become a better writer.

It's not like I do so because it's easy. Goodness knows, if it was easy, I'd probably not be doing it. I have a habit of doing just about everything the hard way. It is, however, rewarding.

Well, what do you say about *that* ?

I suppose it is true. You really can find anything on the internet. Now, for those of you who are of weak stomachs or easily disgusted, I highly advise you leave off reading at this point and simply accept what I just stated as fact. Those of the more morbid persuasion, or feeling bold, read on.

I wasn't horribly surprised when I found pornography of every variety on the internet (including zombies, that one made me want to wash my eyes out with bleach). It was actually fairly amusing, as 95% of my finds were a result of searches that had nothing to do with sex. That 5% were research for some of the fiction I write or research into infertility. I wasn't terribly surprised by the pictures of virtually everything from the gratuitously obscene to the most innocuous and down right boring.

Some of these pictures were interesting, despite the blatant attempt to disgust, shock, or otherwise offend the viewer's sensibilities. Quite frankly, I found the images of the autopsy to be most fascinating. It was reassuring, in an odd way, to see that the internal organs did look as I expect them to. For some reason, I couldn't handle the idea of watching as my cesarean section was done to deliver my son, but yet I can look at images of a full autopsy with fascination. I still am a bit baffled by that myself. So, please, don't ask me to explain why that is the case, because I don't understand it myself. Perhaps it is the difference between looking at my own internal organs and looking at another's, that's the closest guess that I can make to any understanding of it.

And then, then there are the videos that range from the absurd to the sweet. And there are some which are truly works of art and others which are just pointless wastes of time and their only redeeming value is that I learned not to click on that link every again in my wretched existence, even if I am dying of boredom. It was, however, entirely unexpected (yes, I know, rather naive of me) to find a video of self mutilation to this extent. No, I will not make a link to it. You must search for it yourself if you wish to view it.

There was a video of a person cutting off their genitals with a hatchet. Why was this done? Because they wanted to prove how tough they were. Perhaps it is just me, but who on earth benefits from engaging in self mutilation to this extent? I suppose in the abstract sense, it is possible to say that the rest of the species has, for this fool may not reproduce. But I'm really not of the opinion that stupidity is genetic. One may have a predisposition towards it, but it really is not a nature thing but rather nurture. I should know, because I've seen witness to both ends of that spectrum in my own family and in the families of various people I have known over the years.

But, I digress. Seriously, how is it a proof of manhood, strength, or courage to cut off your genitals? I am at nothing but a loss in the face of this sheer idiocy. Let's take a moment to look at the effects of doing such a thing to yourself for a moment. The genitalia have many blood vessels and nerves. These are organs that are highly sensitive and we're innately encouraged to protect on the basis of instinct. Deliver a swift kick to anyone's groin region and you'll watch them curl into the fetal position with their hands covering that area, partly in an effort to lessen the pain and partly in a powerful urge to protect this region. Generally, witnessing another receive a blow to that part of the body will evoke a twitch of some nature in a sympathetic response to protect one's own reproductive organs (even in women) unless one is inured to such displays.

(As I have brothers, I think I became inured to that fairly early on. But, I digress again.)

Now, in the light of these very basic facts, one has to ask, what is going on in the mind of someone who willingly injures such a sensitive organ for the sake of egoism?

I can understand penile subscision. There's a degree of eroticism to it that the practitioners and the supporters of this find to be quite excellent and thus engage in it. I think that it is a highly risky thing to do and makes one prone to various long term problems, but it is their body and such. I can understand genital mutilation on the basis of religious grounds. In ancient times, men who were in the cult of Attis and in the cult of Diana would practice genital mutilation as part of their worship practices and as an outward expression of their devotion to this goddess. It is part of their rites of worship, thus it makes sense. Even the genital mutilation that is done on the basis of cultural expectations makes some degree of sense.

As some one who does not support circumcision for non-medical purposes, I don't agree with the cultural practice here in the United States, but it does make sense. After all, the circumcision of infant males, in our culture, is a practice that is part of the identification with the culture. It is a practice that my husband and I reject as barbaric, and thus did not subject our son to it. But, it does make sense. And, when our son is old enough to make such decisions about his body for himself, he can choose to enter into that practice himself or not. Genital mutilation for the sake of social norms, however, is against our religious beliefs. Especially the genital mutilation of children, when they are incapable of consenting to the mutilation of this most delicate and sensitive part of their anatomy. I would go into a bit of a rant about this, but that would be an even greater digression.

Who, honestly, in their right mind would cut off their genitals for the sake of relieving boredom? Who would do this as part of some odd effort to prove that they are some how more tough then anyone else? I couldn't tell if the person in the video was sober or not. I'm fairly certain, however, that no amount of alcohol consume can make doing grievous bodily injury a good idea. It really makes no sense to me at all.

This makes me fear for the good of our society for one simple reason. There seems to be a proliferation of such ridiculous antics broadcasted on the internet. It appears that a large number, if not the vast majority, of them are perpetrated by people from the United State who are in my age group and younger. What degree of decadence and social decay must be reached for these things to become acceptable entertainment?

What a long, long week.

I think it was last Monday when I posted in here before. I'm honestly not sure, because it has been a very long week. On Saturday, Feb. 2nd, my husband's paternal Grandmother was found dead in her bedroom. It was determined that she had died in her sleep. My husband and I were initially surprised to hear she had died, for we were not aware of any illness. The woman was 89 years old. My husband's uncle had started the process of planning a big party for her 90th birthday just last month, with her birthday being in July.

Friday, there was the viewing at the funeral home. Against my husband's better judgment and at the unspoken request of my mother-in-law, we brought the baby with us. As I had suspected, having our little boy with us did a great deal to cheer everyone's spirits. My husband was concerned that the little monster was going to start screaming at the absolutely wrong time. This, however, did not prove the case. Actually, the little man did a great job and I'm quite proud of him. Last Friday was a very full day for him, for in the morning and early afternoon we had gone to visit my brother's wife and children.

Saturday, all of us were up early. It is an hour's drive to my sister-in-law's place, and she was going to watch our boy while we went to the funeral mass. It was a beautiful service. All of the hymns that my husband's grandmother loved were sung as part of the mass. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, however, at the end when her sons and the rest of her family sang 'When Irish Eyes Are Smiling'. I just couldn't sing, because the shock of her death finally hit me.

I couldn't find my voice to sing 'Amazing Grace' either. I think, for me, the most painful moment was watching the men load her casket into the hearse. It just was so... final. I've seen loved ones pass on and I've gone to many funerals. I believe, however, that this was probably one of the two most painful one's that I've had to attend. The other was the one for my great-grandmother Hazel, when I was a girl. I didn't realize just how deeply I cared for my husband's grandmother until the shock of her death wore off and the painful reality slapped me in the face.

In all of this, I strove to be the warm, loving presence that provided as much comfort to the family as I possibly could, just as I had done with the death of my husband's maternal grandfather a little over ten years ago. I am not sure how successful I was, but I will say this- I managed to provide a little bit of comfort to my husband's younger cousin and to my father-in-law by acting in the manner that his grandmother would have in that moment.

My husband's cousin hit the point of near inconsolable weeping as we were exiting the church after the casket. It broke my heart to see this young man so shattered. I took him in my arms and held him as he wept, giving him the handkerchief I had with me. We didn't say anything for a moment. I then told him that everything was going to be alright. He nodded and manfully faced the rest of the day with a courage that was beyond his years.

In the case of my father-in-law, I didn't really think much before the words came out of my mouth. I did, however, restrain the urge to swat him across the back of the head as I said it. He had the nerve to apologize for the tears and grief that everyone was showing. He then thanked me for coming, as though I didn't have to do so. I couldn't help the irritated tone and I did catch some of my husband's uncles smiling at this. I snapped at him: "You just lost your mother. Don't you dare apologize for crying. You're supposed to. And I'm family, I'm supposed to be here."

He blinked at me and sighed, having the grace to look a little embarrassed for it. I found out later that this is exactly what my husband's grandmother would have done and said, most likely word for word as well, in that situation. I've actually learned more about my husband's grandmother over the last several days then I did when we had our chats. I'm a lot more like her then I realized. I also now understand why she was so amused with me when I asked her if she had any advice she wanted to impart to me before I had my son. She just smiled and said, "Oh, you know what to do. You'll be fine." I suppose I would have said the exact same thing to some one who reminded me of myself when I was younger and in a situation that was the same as what I had been in at that age.

Hey, here's a chuckle for you, Stargazer!

You are The High Priestess

Science, Wisdom, Knowledge, Education.

The High Priestess is the card of knowledge, instinctual, supernatural, secret knowledge. She holds scrolls of arcane information that she might, or might not reveal to you. The moon crown on her head as well as the crescent by her foot indicates her willingness to illuminate what you otherwise might not see, reveal the secrets you need to know. The High Priestess is also associated with the moon however and can also indicate change or fluxuation, particularily when it comes to your moods.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Anxiety versus recollection.

I'm sitting here feeling that vague anxiety that's been plaguing me for the last several days. So, I decided, for some reason, to look back at some of my older posts in here. As I do so, I realized something: looking at old sources of anxiety does not do much to help make the present ones seem less intimidating.

While my doctor has told me that I can boost my dosage of the anti-anxiety medication slightly, this doesn't sound to me as a good solution. More medication just doesn't seem like the way to solve this. I just wish I knew what the cause of this, that would make it easier for me to cope with this. Well, maybe. I may be a bit too proud and have a little bit of a chip on my shoulder with respect to the matter of taking medication for my psychological problems. I admit this. I am rarely tolerant enough with myself, so feeling that I've some how become weak by my need for the medication is something of an outgrowth of this. (A similar feeling of anger with myself and intolerance with myself was present when I was taking glucophage to control my problems with insulin resistance to help me conceive my son.)

I've been exercising. I have myself on a schedule (when insomnia and the baby don't conspire to shoot that plan down). Generally, I've been doing the things that I need to to help myself cope with this anxiety. I'm even writing about it (as evidenced by this blog entry and the number of pages I'm filling in my off-line journal). It doesn't seem to help and I am at a loss for what else I can do. I have been putting off doing my needlepoint and embroidery because I don't want to accidentally leave some of it around. Visions of disaster happening to my little boy if he accidentally gets his hands on it just keep coming to mind.

I'm just not sure what to do. I don't think adding in my needlepoint or other hand crafts is going to resolve this. If meditation isn't helping then I'm not sure what else will. I really don't want to boost my medication. It's just not a good thing, I was able to handle this with out the drugs at one point, I don't want to have to depend on it later.

Heh, sleep. Yeah, a nice memory! (again)

Teething infants do not equal sleep. Please, all people out there in the world considering children, be advised: this statement is true! Oddly enough, during the day, my little man is usually fairly happy. He's just recently turned into a real chatterbox, even. He's been cooing and laughing, generally making a good deal of noise. I'm just amazed by how talkative he's become over the last two days.

At night, however, he sleeps until 3 or 4 am. He then wakes up screaming bloody murder. This has been for the last few days, roughly. I hope this means that at least one of his teeth is almost in, but I'm not sure. He does seem to be drooling more, to a point where I'm questioning if I should even bother putting a bib on him. :P

Between this spate of him waking late at night and my recent bouts of insomnia, I've taken to lying down with him for naps. It's exhausting and I'm looking forward to having my days back! It's not like I can do things such as vacume the living room floor at 3 in the morning.

Bah, what's the point, right?

So, I've spent my day procrastinating on just about everything. Having a head cold tends to put me into moods like that. I've played with the boy and tried to mentally function, leaving a small mountain of laundry, a slightly smaller mountain of dishes, and a sizable pile of papers to be dealt with. I know that I really shouldn't be too aggravated with myself, but I can't exactly help it.

I've sat here screwing around on the computer when I could have been taking care of these things. I took a nap this morning when I could have resolved the vast majority of the dishes or the filing with out worrying about the boy needing me. And now, as he's finally fallen asleep for his second nap of the day, I just don't have the ... energy to slog thru a sink full of dishes, filing a months worth of correspondance, or folding ... alot of laundry.

Does this make me far too lazy? Or am I just feeling sick and need to give myself a break? I honestly am not entirely sure. I know that last night, as I attempted to meditate, I fell asleep and then slept just about all night on the couch. I hate getting sick, it just sucks the life right out of me. I was barely able to keep up with the boy today.

Ugh!

I hate dealing with paperwork!

So, my dear husband and I have started on the road to financial freedom!

And it's left me feeling like I'm going to die a death of a thousand paper cuts! I recognize that having hard copy of everything is going to make it easier to keep track of what is going on. We can actually prove that bills are paid and such. I know that it's easier for me to keep the numbers straight if I have them on paper in front of me when I balance the checkbook. All of these things make sense and are very practical things to keep in mind.

At the same time, I really do feel like I should just go running off into the dark screaming and gibbering like a madwoman in the face of the small mountain of papers that need to be organized, filed, and dealt with. It is intimidating but yet I know it needs done and I can't let it scare me any longer. It's not like my husband and I will only drag ourselves down if we make financial mistakes here. We now have a little boy to keep in mind.

Sure, it may sound cheezy, but we really are doing this more for the boy then ourselves at the moment. It's a miserable and frustrating thing to get all of our finances in order. It's also rather... painful to realize that you just don't have the money to go out to dinner as often as you like or to do some of those fun things you'd really love to do. We can't exactly say that our fun is more important then making sure that our son has food to eat, clothes to wear, and a safe home to live in. So, we tighten the belt and set our noses to the grindstone.

Fortunately, however, we're not required to enjoy this process. That, I think, probably would make a crazy woman out of me. Right now, however, I am actually looking forward to that sink full of baby bottles and dirty dishes. It gives me a legitimate excuse to avoid more paper cuts as I file away the papers from last month's bills.

repost from elsewhere

It seems that when I find that I am beginning to make progress and get all my ducks in a row, something just comes along to throw me off. I'm sure that y'all have days (weeks, months, years???) like this. I've had a short string of 'em and I'm just going to take a moment to vent a little bit. Please, forgive me and the fact that this isn't exactly cheerful at the moment. I'm having a little difficulty with some of this and I'm still not entirely sure how to approach it all. Who knows, maybe some one has some advice that can help me puzzle it out!

First off, the holiday season went fairly well for my family and I. It is a thing that I am most thankful for. If it hadn't, I think the last few weeks would have been impossibly hard to bear. My youngest brother is in the Army Reserves and he just shipped out for Afghanistan last week. My whole family is in a tizzy over this, especially with him talking about re-enlisting into the Marine Corps. His wife is not exactly happy but there's been some problems within their marriage, and she's hoping that this tour will scare him into acting more responsibly.

I've been having a real tough time coping with the emotional fall out of all this. I can at least say with some degree of quiet pride that I didn't get into an argument with my brother the last time I saw him, even though his egoism and casually vulgar attitudes really made me angry. Hard on the heels of this, I realized that my problem with depression has come back full force. It is rather embaressing for me to have to take antidepressants. I feel that I should be able to cope with this problem with out these things.

Unfortunately, that is not the case. So, last night, we filled the perscription on the way home and my husband reassured me that this is a legitimate medical problem. He said that if people approached postpartum depression and depression in general as a "real" medical problem, then there wouldn't be people murdering their small children because they were convinced that the babies were doomed for hell by accident of their birth. It's rather chilling to realize that I had internalized that attitude and the rather disgusting version that I had grown up with: psychological problems = attention seeking behavior.

It is my hope that I'll do a better job handling these things, but I can't help feeling like the wind's gone out of my sails. I really wish that it were possible for me to get out into a garden and put this anxious energy to work doing something, like hoeing potatoes or something. Scrubbing out the bathroom can only be done for so long before the fumes from the cleaners make me start wheezing, sadly. That said, thanks for listening to my bit of a rant/whining about life at the moment.

I'm sorry if I happened to bring anyone down also as they read this.

Yeah, it's been a few days...

I'm not going to say how long it has been since I've written in my off-line journal. That'd be a bit longer, and it's all I'm going to admit to. At some point in time, I should probably copy what I've typed up on here into there, so that I've got a 'hard copy' record of it as well. I'm pretty sure that project will be at about the same point as the one I started to make a digital copy of my journals.

Alot has happened over the last several weeks. My darling Stargazer has lost several people in her family over a short span of time. You know that you are in the hearts and thoughts of everyone here in this house. Please, call me if there is anything we can do to be of help to you, love. If anything, I've got plenty of stupid human tricks I can compare notes with you on. I swear some of the people in this town just don't think at all!

I've been forced to admit that my youngest brother is an unrepentant asshole of the first order. His wife is on the verge of divorcing him because of his failure to stand up and act like a man. You know, uphold his end of the bargain to be a husband and a father to their three little girls. And all of this is even as he's shipped out to Afghanistan for the next year. I believe the most excruciating part of all this is the fact that I am torn between feeling like it'd be a good thing if this misogynistic bastard that shares the same genetic background that I do get's whacked in combat and feeling like my goofy little brother that helped me blow up model rockets to tick of Dad is going to die, and being terrified of that.

To say that I feel like I'm in a moral quandry is an understatement it so say one that is beyond my own masterful ability to commit such outrageous understatements. I love my family deeply. They are my own flesh and blood, and one of the few things that I feel you need to be able to count on in life. After all, if you don't have your kin behind you, you're going to be losing a lot of history and alot of support. At the same time, I find myself feeling that the ties of kinship pale in comparison to the abomination that my brother has become over the years. I don't even recognize this man.

I could add more but I don't believe I will.

I'll focus on happier things in another post. I need a little break before I get angry or upset.

Oh, dear, what do I do now?

I'm a fool. I thought that I could just strong arm my way thru something. I thought that if I did things the hard way, it would prove to make things work easier in several other areas. As usual, my stubborn streak hasn't proven enough. Now I'm not sure how to make this right, how to fix this problem.

I don't even know how I should discuss it, because I know it's going to be a huge source of frustration.

Stargazer, I love you.

Before anybody thinks something foolish, there's alot of past history here that I'm not going to bring up for the rest of the internet to know. Somethings just stay between the people who know the facts, and there will be things I mention that are going to fall in to that category.

First off, Stargazer, I love you so much that it hurts. I'm still furious with myself over how I broke your heart years ago and how close I came to losing one of the most important people in my life. I feel terribly embaressed by how much of a coward I am when it comes to telling you how important you are to me. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you and not a day goes by that I don't miss you. He knows that and he feels badly for me. I think that he thinks I'm too hard on myself. I know that you'd say the same thing, and maybe you're both right.

I'm sorry but I really can't forgive myself for how stupid I was then. I got scared I didn't say anything, I didn't even realize when I was starting to dissociate. Looking back on it now, I realize that was what happened that night. It was the same thing that happened when he and I started trying to be intimate after I left that bastard who hurt me. The only difference was I wasn't having those screaming panic attacks where I started hitting myself. I've got to admit, I thank all the Gods for that small mercy. I don't know if I could have handled that. I tried for years to forget that I started to shut down when I felt your hands on my skin, but it haunts me.

Sometimes, I have nightmares of it. Where I can't feel anything and I desparately want to, because it felt so cold inside me and so... dark. There are times where, in my dreams, we're together. You hold me as I cry about my fustrations with the boy, with my husband, with my life in general. In my dreams, you help me to forgive myself, as you always have and you continue to be the calm, radiant presence at my side that you were in that moment. It scared me then and it scares me a little now that you love me.

It scares me even more that one day, you could slip out of my life forever and I'd have never done this. I'd have never told you how I feel about you, even today, and all that I'd have left was bittersweet memories.

I do love you, darling. I love you so very, very much. I'm sorry that I hurt you and if there was some way that I could take all of that back, the distance that came from my idiot pride and my foolish fears to the badly phrased bullshit things I said, I would. I never wanted to hurt you and I still hate myself to this very day for it. I do think I failed you. I tried to love you as you deserved to be loved but I couldn't do it right. Maybe I was too broken at that time, maybe I was just too scared to believe in myself. I don't know.

But I can't find the words to say how much I love you, Stargazer. I'm sorry that I've been so far away. Please forgive me for it, love. I was afraid that I'd hurt you again by being stupid.

Bah, who needs sleep, right?

Or at least, that's how my darling son feels at this moment. He's throwing one monster of a temper tantrum at the moment because it's still nap time. I feel relieved that he's feeling well enough to be showing that he does have a temper like I do, but I'm mildly irritated that he has decided that he really isn't tired (never mind his yawning and rubbing of the eyes).

Ah.. wait! He did finally fall asleep.

It seems to be how nap time has gone since he caught his cold. Here's hoping that now that he's getting over it, my boy will not be so cranky when it's time to sleep. I can't be entirely sure, though, as he has started teething. We'll see how this unfolds, I suppose.

Happy New Year!

Or what ever. :P

I'm feeling a bit apathetic. I think all of that effort making thing for people burned me out some. I'm a little bit ticked off with the post office.

They keep losing my mail. It's be one thing if it got lost because it was stuck to another piece of mail. But, that's not the case, as I learned recently from one of the folks who work there. Apparently, one of the staff there refuses to wear his glasses. He feels it makes him look old.

It also makes him send my mail off to the other side of town. My name is not Vanessa. My husband's name is not Vanessa. And our son isn't named that either. We have a post office box! And one last thing, just because this woman's last name as two 'L's in it, like ours does, it does not mean that we're interchangeable.

As a result of the vanity of one (if not more) of the postal service employees here in town, we're late on paying the bills on a semi-regular basis. If I'm lucky, letters sent to me will actually reach me. I'm still wondering if a package that was sent up shortly after the boy was born didn't reach me because it went over to this woman's house.

Honestly, people, would you please read the address on the packages and letters!

Sorry, I'm a little bit ... aggravated. I spent all day on the phone making sure we had car insurance and that we didn't have a laundry list of problems because this happened again. Once in a while, I can understand, even accept. Every few months, like clockwork, is just insane.

Happy Holidays!

Well, the boy, hubby, and I survived yet another holiday gathering with my side of the family. Generally, things went well. My parents surprised the living daylights out of me by giving me a sewing machine. It was a complete surprise. As my mother needs hers back, I suppose it can be short of nothing but awesome that my sister in law and I were given sewing machines. My grandparents and extended family all seemed to be doing well.

Even though I feel some anger and a measure of resentment towards my grandmother and one of my aunts, I do wish them well. I'm trying to root out the anger and resentment, so that the last few years that I have with my grandmother still walking the earth won't be filled with that. I won't go father along that line of thought because it just gets depressing.

Tonight, we have a big get together at my husband's grandmother's house. I'm hoping it all goes well. I'd be posting up some kind of cute christmas/yule picture of my son, but I don't have the foggiest clue how to do that. So... I've searched the interwebz and found this for your pleasure! Happy Holidays!

Wow, I made him laugh!

You know, I realize that telling jokes to an infant is kinda pointless. At the same time, I was beginning to get a little desperate for trying to find away to make him laugh. Prior to last night, my little boy had only laughed once for me. That was while we played a quick game of peek-a-boo at the doctor's office as I was getting him ready to go home, about a month ago.

Oh, but last night did we have a winner! I made him laugh pretty good, just at the wrong time. Him laughing is good, spitting up while laughing is not so good. We were playing on his mat and I tapped a ball that was suspended over his face. It brushed against his cheek as I said "kaboom" and he giggled. I did it again and he laughed. We spent about 5 minutes this way until he got sick. Next time, I think I'll wait longer then 20 minutes after he has a bottle to play that way again.


In the picture above, we're playing 'binky-tag'. Obviously, you can see he enjoys it. This little monster will spit out his pacifier to have you put it back in for him to spit out again for what feels like hours. It's good that he enjoys it, because it makes the whole drama less maddening. Seeing that huge smile on that little face... well, it suddenly makes 'binky-tag' more fun for the grown-up involved too.

My little boy still hates baths. He does, however, love playing with the towel. Just the other night, he was trying to pull it up over his head and kick it off. To say the least, I found it to be the cutest thing to watch. The thing that I am really astounded by, however, is how fast he's growing. That picture up there is a little over a month old. He's grown much more since then. It's jaw-dropping to realize that this cute little outfit just won't fit him now. While he doesn't like playtime on his belly, he's getting better about it. I figure if we keep at it, he'll stop screaming when I put him down on his belly to go wash dishes or make myself a cup of tea.

He's been hitting several of the milestones for his age fairly well. Even so, I can't help but feel a little worry that he hasn't figured out how to roll over yet. I know that it may be a bit early for me to worry about that, but it's a mild source of anxiety. I also find myself wondering what on earth I'll do about getting this more more socialization. I realize that with the cold weather, I can't exactly walk down to the library with him. A 15 minute stroller ride in the middle of winter just isn't the same as a 15 minute stroller ride in the middle of autumn.

That said, I've got to admit things are going really well. Now, I just need to figure out how to make him laugh more often and we'll be set.

ack...

I've been trying to get back into the swing of that tarot reading by phone thing I was doing shortly before my son was born. I admit, I do feel anxious that things are not going to pick back up. I've been trying to redirect my nervous energy into doing things that are productive towards this venture. I feel, however, that my efforts are not going to be enough.

I hate the holiday season because this time of year the feeling of not having enough money is somewhat impossible to avoid. It's a terrible feeling and it is one that I'm all too familiar with. I can't help but feel angry when I find it implied that my efforts are not going to be good enough because I didn't buy the gifts I'm giving from the store. It is something that I can't avoid because it's shouted at me from every media outlet on the face of the earth this time of year.

Heck, I can't even get away from it on the computer. I get pop-up ads spamming me with offers to buy the latest gizmo or gadget for the people in my family. I find that I feel guilty at times because I can't afford to go buy something. I have this terrible suspicion that my husband's cousin is going to turn up her nose at the purse and cell phone cozy that I made for her. I have a fear that everyone who gets these hand made gifts this year is going to be disappointed because their hearts were set on something else.

Wretched doesn't begin to describe how it feels. And in the midst of flailing about with my worries over things like if people are going to like what I give them, I find I get into a panic over the bills and if I can cut any more corners in the budget to possibly make it easier to pay off the various expenses we accumulated over the last year. It really does feel like no matter how hard we try, we just sink farther into the financial quicksand each year.

And think, this is me on anti-depressants right now!

I hate this time of year on a semi-regular basis for so many more reasons then having to listen to Bing Crosby so many times my eyes bleed. I've got to admit, if I am forced to listen to christmas/holiday music for a full 24 hours, I may possibly go into a homicidal rampage. Why, you ask? Because that stuff is enough to create brain aneurysms and are a form of torture more inhumane then being forced to suffer thru Barney for a full 24 hours. (And let me tell you, that right there is a sadistic hell that I do not wish upon my worst enemies!) Christmas/holiday music tell us to cheer up and that we're going to get everything we want. It tells us that everyone is all wrapped up in this confectionery state of bliss and similar rot.

It's surfeit to cover up the disgusting truths of the world.

Ok, I'm going to stop before this rant gets more depressing or more cranky, which ever would happen first.

I also reiterate my ban on perkiness!

Slowly making progress... I think.

I've been gradually working on getting the christmas presents done for my six nieces. I have five done. The last proves to be the one requiring the most work. I'm crocheting a chess board. I've made 32 white granny squares. I now need to make 32 dark blue granny squares. The bag for holding the chess pieces is finished, though I've discovered that the extra chess pieces are missing 4 white pawns, a white knight, and a black rook. I think I'm going to need to go buy a cheapie chess set and scavenge the pieces out of it.

I have the aprons for my brother-in-law's girls done. They're getting some kitchen toys and aprons. As they've been starting to learn how to cook, I've decided to give something that encourages it. The hats for my youngest brother's children are done. I still need to finish piecing together and sewing the small quilt that I started for my son. The boy has a small army of blankets, but I wanted to make him a quilt, too. I'm about a third of the way finished with the piecing together of the squares of fabric.

I made the multicolored blanket that my husband wanted. I now want to make him something else for christmas. He knows about the blanket, I want to give him something that will be a nice surprise. I'm not entirely sure what it will be yet, but I'll figure something out. I finished the crocheted shawl from my husband's grandmother, as I learned that the woman doesn't exactly like the one she has right now. I still need to sew up the cell phone cozy and the purse that I made for my husband's cousin.

Aside from the quilt that I'm making for my son, I believe that I'm also going to make him a toy. I'm just not sure what to make. I've a few different options, as it stands I'm leaning towards a teddy bear or a lion. I'm not entirely sure which I prefer. I do still need to cut out, piece together, and sew the doll for my youngest niece. I'm fairly certain that I'll have the sewing done by the end of this week. I may even have the last bit of stitching that I need to do on the baby blanket for my son finished as well. This was a blanket that I started quite some time ago and I didn't get it completed until now. I just don't like how the last bit of stitching came out, so I am probably going to pull it out and resew it.

I have the gift for my sister-in-law finished. I'm giving her some orange scented bath salts, a bottle of apple-pie scented bubble bath, and (if I can manage it) some lavender infused white wine. I've been debating what to give my mother this year and I think that we're going to do like we had discussed when we got the portraits done of the boy. We'll need some cheapie picture frames, but it'll make a wonderful gift for the grandparents!

I was hoping to beable to get some photo books made by christmas of the wedding pictures. It doesn't appear that it will work out that way this year. I still want to get that done, so it may be a matter of printing things up at home and binding them at Kinkos or something. I'm not sure. I will be making a cover for the little cooking journal that I'll be giving my other sister-in-law for christmas.

So, I guess I am making progress. It just doesn't feel like it when I'm in the middle of working on stuff. It feels like I'm slogging my way thru needlecraft hell.

That said, I wonder what I should surprise my husband with...

Blah.

My husband's asleep right now. The boy is taking a nap. Some would figure that I'd be thrilled because I get some time to myself. Instead, I just feel bored and lonely. Kinda dopey, I suppose, but I do. Perhaps I'll do some cleaning to entertain myself. Cheezy free games in the internet just don't hold the usual amusement/brain cell killing value.

I'm making alot of progress on getting christmas presents done. I have a purse and a cellphone cozy to sew together. I've been crocheting the squares for a chess board for my eldest niece. I believe we have enough loose chess pieces kicking around here to make two full sets and a partial. I've finished the hats for my other brother's kids. I even got two bibs done for the 7 month old. I'm debating if I should make her a little placemat for the table. If I have time after I get the chess board done, I might do that.

I'm at a loss for what to make for my son. I'm getting aggrivated working on this little crib quilt. I don't think it'll be done in time for christmas. I may sew him a nice little outfit with some of the fabric I have kicking around here. I still have two little aprons to make for my husband's brother's kids. The girls are starting to learn about cooking from their parents, so I'm going to give them some play pots and a pair of aprons. Maybe I'll make some child sized pot holders too, I don't know.

I finished the blanket my husband wanted for christmas, but I really don't feel it is a good gift for him. I want to do something different, something... unexpected and nicer. I will figure it out eventually. In the meantime, however, I think I'll work on getting some cleaning done in the living room. Maybe I'll balance the checkbook after I wash the dishes in the kitchen. I don't know, because that quilt still needs pieced together and the remaining squares need crocheted for that chessboard. I'll figure it out eventually, I suppose.

hmm...

I think I'll just put together another blog to chronicle some of the adventures surrounding this boy of mine.

I'm not entirely sure, though. Something to debate while I try to connive my husband into hooking up the printer so we can print off some of the pictures for the scrap book. :)

Overzelous... no, not really.

Here's some pictures from the summer and from last month. I suppose my husband did get a little happy with the camera, but the trade off was some spectacular pictures. I've been making things for the boy since I found out I was pregnant. Here's some of the photos to show what I made.

The first is from when I was 8 months pregnant. In the picture is two sweaters I made and a pair of booties. The blue sweater and booties are the ones that he wore in the hospital (because they made the maternity wing so cold that a meat locker would seem tropical in comparison).

Next is the sweater that I insist looks like melted crayons. My husband begged me first to make the sweater and then to make him a blanket from this yarn. I still have a partial skein of that yarn. It's being used for some snow hats for my brother's daughters. I don't think I'll be able to get away from it! This picture is of the sweater in progress.



Now, I struggled with this yarn. I had several different patterns that I attempted. Because of how this yarn was dyed, none of them came out not looking hideous. To say the least my husband, who loves to try to blind me with the color combinations he comes up with, was quite entertained.

Finally, my mother gave me the pattern for this sweater. I made a few mistakes working on it, but even so, it didn't look completely ugly when it was done.


This is the completed sweater. All it's missing is the crayon box stuck to it! :)



There is one more picture that I'd like to share. This is of the red sweater set that I made. I put my little boy in this outfit for his first trip to the library. He may not be old enough for a library card, but it doesn't mean he can't go over there and look around.



This was to be his coming home outfit but the weather was far too warm. I had a back up outfit also, which was used for his portrait that went out with his birth announcements to family and friends. It was too hot for the back up outfit too! It was so hot that day that he was wearing the onesie that I had for him and a pair of soft mitts with stars on them.

Somedays, I really do hate computers.

Sorry if it's impossible to read either of the last two posts. For some reason, the fonts are acting funny and I can't get this thing to do what I wanted it to. Oh well, the computer wins, again. :(

Maybe, I should have my husband fix it for me.

>:)

Speaking of the boy...

It is so hard to believe that my little boy is now three months old. He's already grown out of most of the clothes that I made for him while I was pregnant and the outfit that he wore for his first picture. I'm not getting all teary-eyed, but I am wondering where the time went.

Today, he finally tried solid food for the first time. He's of a mixed opinion. The boy can't decide if he hates the texture of solid food or enjoys the taste. It was cute to watch him alternate between the rice and his bottle. He decided very quickly that after he had a little bite of his cereal he wanted to wash it down with formula.

He's doing alot better about spending time on his belly. He's actually playing a little bit when I put him down on his belly, rather then scream for ten minutes and fall asleep every time. He still isn't very happy about bath time. I figure he'll decide at some point that it's not ritual torture and actually enjoy the experience. Until then, I just have to listen to him scream while I wash him.

I do have to say, I did have a little success the other day. He played in the tub for about 5 minutes. Splashed me some, kicked his feet, cooed, and then started screaming. Maybe we need to try some play time in the tub, get out his rubber ducky and the fishies for him to just sit in there and play in the water, perhaps. I'm not sure. Maybe I'll try giving him a bubble bath, because he does love bubbles.

I've been getting one heck of a work out for my lungs. Between singing to him and blowing bubbles, I don't think my lungs have seen this much work since I was in high school choir. He hasn't figured out how to roll over yet, but he's trying. The sitting part isn't quite figured out yet either. It's more like he's propped up and keeping his head steady. But he's making progress, and that's a good thing. The boy just loves playing peek-a-boo. I made him giggle for the first time just last week by playing peek-a-boo with him.

And of course the little monster has now refused to laugh since then. Instead, he just smiles, sticks out his tounge, and blows raspberries at me. I'll make him laugh again some how. I want his father to hear him laugh and I want that little boy to laugh alot. All of that said, I guess we're all doing well. Even if he's throwing a temper-tantrum because he doesn't want to be in bed right now. Here's another picture of him, just because he's *so* cute.

Ugh, I hate the holiday shopping season.

I just need to get this off my chest...

Will you people knock it off with the stupid behavior!?!?!

Just because the holidays are coming doesn't mean you have a free pass to be rude and obnoxious!

Ok, I think I can proceed forward with out exploding.

I think.

I went to the store last night to purchase a few things that I needed for the baby. I encountered a madhouse and the inmates were running the asylum! Maybe it's just me, but I didn't think that it was good form to be running thru the store with the cart out in front of you at arms length when you're clearly over the age of 9 and the aisles have more then one person in them at a given time. Perhaps it's just me, but I think that can qualify as a bad idea!

My opinion, however, matters as much as... well, I just won't complete that statement because it's more then a little bit rude. Those of you who have witnessed my occasional forays into vulgarity would have found my completed sentiment to be far more offensive then past statements. So, let's just say that my opinion on this matter is not shared by the general population of shoppers at this time of year, apparently.

I can say in all honesty, there is precious little on this earth that can prove more offensive then the holiday shopper when you have the very item they are seeking. Especially when you have just purchased the last of the store's inventory of said item and are walking out of the store as they are entering. I swear, I thought I was going to get mugged over a baby seat! Never mind the fact that the store in the plaza across the street have many, many more of the exact same item for about $10 more. Never mind the fact that the next shipment of them was going to be in tonight!

No, I was apparently deserving of the vile looks of hatred and the malignant comments as I walked past. I actually had some one insinuate that I had stolen the item. I don't generally want to slap complete strangers, but that made my hand twitch and I wanted that woman to send a post card from next week as to what the weather was like. What is it with people this time of year?

Is it really that hard to use the simplest of manners and a little bit of courtesy? A few more "please" and "thank-you"s would probably work alot better then shoving the woman with a baby in her cart out of your way! Granted, that didn't happen to me. It happened to a little Hispanic woman who looked like she was about to burst out into tears just like her infant daughter. It makes me furious to see this kind of stuff.

Sure, you're busy and you have alot of people to shop for. You have a tight time frame and a tighter budget. It doesn't excuse your acting like a moron. It doesn't excuse bad behavior from your children, spouse, mother-in-law, or anybody else that's with you because you're shopping for the perfect present. It's not the things that matter, you idiots!

It's the People that matter.






Yeah, I really do hate this time of year. Thank god, I didn't have to go shopping on Black Friday. I may have actually lost my cool and decked some one for trying to trample me and the boy.

Stealing computer time again!

As I have the time, I am going to post here quickly. Things are going fairly well here. I'm thankful for it and thankful for the fact that I've a husband who is very supportive of me. I may whine and complain about how he doesn't do the dishes as often as I'd like and how he doesn't vacume the floor in the living room more often then every three months, but I do deeply appreciate what he does for me and our son.

Housework is the usual endless nightmare. I don't think I'm ever going to get this place fully clean. It seems like once I make progress thirty new things pop up to be washed, put away, or otherwise dealt with. It's lead to my deciding to never wash dishes or put laundry away before I go to sleep. I've had a few nightmares of the ever increasing pile of dishes to wash and the endless basket of laundry only to wake up to finding there's a sink full of the dishes from dinner the night before and the other half of the baby's laundry waiting to be taken care of. I'm glad that we didn't go with cloth diapers, because I'd have lost my marbles if I had to fold and put away those too.

I've sent out the majority of the birth announcements last week. I've a few more to stick in the mail. But I'm pretty much done. I just need to remember to finish the last 10 and mail them. I'm going to try to send them out with the bills that need paid this week. Here's hoping that I can make it that far. I am not looking forward to balancing the checkbook. It seems like there's always more bills to be paid then there is funds to pay them. I'm pretty sure that it's just my emotional response to it all, but it really sucks, even if I'm not taking an entirely accurate view of the picture.

I do, however, now have the opportunity to post a picture of my son and I. My husband has uploaded pictures to the computer and shown me how to get to them. So, with out any further ado, here's a picture of me and the baby. :)

stealing computer time

Well, I'm inhaling my lunch and trying to steal a bit of time on the computer before the kid wakes up from his nap. As his fussing at the moment proves, I'm not entirely successful. I now am faced with a choice, do I go eat my soup or do I pick up the baby?

Since I know he's going to fuss loud and as long as he can get away with it, I suppose I'll pick him up and bring him into the living room to play while I eat. Maybe I'll get lucky and he won't scream too much then.

So much for an interesting post. :P

Where'd the last 2 months go?

Well, my little boy is now 2 months old. He's 22.5 in long and 9.6 lbs. It's hard to believe that the last 2 months has flown by. Right now, he's down for a nap so I have a few minutes to be on the computer and then I've to do dishes. He has gone from not really interacting much with me or his father to doing things like cooing and making silly faces at us. I'd post more but he just woke up fussing. I'll try to remember to add more later.

almost 2 months... so, how long until he's 18?

Ok, so it's not that bad, but there are moments. He's a great little kid and we just got the pictures from the photographer to prove just how cute he is. Now I need to send out an army of birth announcements. I think I may go insane if I have to do these by hand. :p

I'm not sure how to describe the last several weeks. On one hand, I've been doing fairly well. At the same time, postpartum depression was making it feel like hell. I finally went to the doctor after I had been attempting the various solutions suggested to me by friends and family. The doctor said that I've got a textbook case of postpartum depression and then prescribed a SSRI. I can say honestly that I am feeling a huge difference because I haven't been half as anxious.

I think the fact that I enjoyed playing with the baby today is a good sign. Now I just need to keep doing the practical things and push forward. The medicine is just part of the solution.

Denial is not a river in Egypt.

It is, however, something I've been doing of late. I'm pretty sure that my dear husband is going to either be upset with me for not telling him before now or state that he's known the whole while but didn't want to say anything to avoid upsetting me. Either way, it feels like I'm in trouble and I hate that feeling. Feeling like I'm in trouble, however, is nothing compared to feeling depressed.

That, Reader, has been what I've been denying over the past month. The fog of the baby blues lifted and I'm not as bad off as I was before. But I'm still depressed and I'm doing very poorly on the coping end here. I don't know what to do because the horrendous feelings of inadequacy that hit me are surrounding my interactions with my child in a huge, ugly way.

Baby talk, I can't bring myself to do it. I feel like a flaming idiot for it and I worry that he won't learn proper English if I do it. The games where you rough house a little bit (for one this small, it's stuff like razberries on the belly, but you get the picture), I'm afraid of hurting him. No, not afraid, positively petrified of the idea. Sitting down and playing with him and his toys, I feel guilty because the house is a disaster and I shouldn't be goofing off when it needs tended to. And when I do tend the housework, I feel guilty because I'm not interacting with my baby.

I can't stop worrying over damn near everything. I think my husband is sick of my asking him if everything is going to be ok. I'm anxious that we don't have enough money to buy diapers after all the bills are paid. I'm anxious that I'll keep forgetting to pump, have my milk supply dry up and then we won't be able to feed the baby because of how expensive formula is. I'm terrified that I'm a bad wife because I'm not spending as much time and attention on my husband as I did before the baby was born. I'm terrified that I'm a terrible mother because I'm not spending every waking moment showering this kid with attention, playing with him, and doing everything in my power to see that he never cries for want of anything. I'm afraid that I'm going crazy and that I'll be shipped off to an institution, not able to see my family again for many years.

I feel guilty for pretty much everything. Even eating, because of my anxiety over having enough food in the house, I'm afraid that I'll eat too much and we won't have enough food to last till the next paycheck. The only thing I don't feel guilty for is breathing, aside from that I'm having a hard time listing the other things that don't pop up when I'm alone with the baby. I'd love to have some one come over and spend time with me. Because that's when this is really bad.

I can fake it and almost believe that I'm perfectly fine when I'm not alone with him. There are times where I really do feel happy, like everyone tells me I'm supposed to. More often, however, I feel like I need to clean the apartment and get everything done. I never can manage to clean everything, and when I try I forget to pump and the baby gets fed late. I try but I can never manage to get past treading water on the cleaning front.

Now that there's more stuff here since my trip out with my aunt last night, I've moved back several paces. I just want to cry in fustration. I can't take care of all this. Hubby gets home from work and he's exhausted. And I damn near throw the baby at him sometimes because I'm afraid that if he starts crying again, I'll actually act on the urge to drop him. Like the other times I've been depressed, destructive thoughts have been coming to mind. I've been managing to stave them off by telling myself that I can't entertain them because people depend on me. I have an obligation to take care of myself and not do something stupid, like hurt myself. And then I justify skipping meals or not doing my hair by saying that I got busy. When I looked at it and I just didn't have the energy or I felt too wretched about myself to even try.

I can't call some one up and ask them to come over because of how much of a disaster this place is. I am just too embaressed by it all. I'm staying at home, I should be able to keep the dishes clean and most of the stuff around here put away. My mother managed to do so with three children. I should be able to do this, shouldn't I? I should be happy right now, shouldn't I? I'm a mother, like I always dreamed I'd be. I have a wonderful baby boy that I always wanted. I don't need to put him in the care of some stranger and pray to god that he's ok at the end of the day. I get to be home and watch him grow and learn about the wonderful world we live in every day. I get to teach him things. I should be happy, I've had my dreams come true.

But I'm not. I still feel wretched about the fact that I delivered via C-section and I can't get this kid to latch on at the breast and nurse despite anything I try to do. I still feel like I'm somewhere between a failure and a walking catastrophy waiting to happen 80% of the time. I still want to just go walk off away from everyone and everything in my life and hide, that it'd make my inadequacy fade away from their lives and how I'm bungeling everything up. I still feel just as scared as I was in the hospital that I'm going to do something horribly wrong or make the wrong decision and absolutely destroy this precious little life entrusted to me.

Am I a lazy, crybaby wretch who just doesn't want to do the "grown up woman" thing? Am I over reacting and I don't know what the hell I'm talking about? Am I going crazy? Or, are my fears legitimate? Am I not a wimp for taking the drugs offered to me at the time of delivery with the first of the real labor pains? Is my stating that the decision to take said drugs for the sake of not causing complications due to fetal distress later in the pregnancy something other then an excuse? Am I not a failure for these things or the difficulty with feeding the baby at my breast?

I don't know. I just know that I'm terrified and I feel like a boot-scraping from a muddy cow field is worth more then I am right now. And I've felt that way for several months, which is why I wasn't as giddy as I probably should have been up until it was time to give birth to this baby.