Almost Called Home by the Mother Ship

What a way to start off a Friday. Change out the external hard drive for the server and immediately it starts letting out some strange dinging sound. It has never done that before. Why is it doing that? Obviously something is very wrong and if I don't contact technical support to figure this out immediately then all of our precious data will be lost to the winds for all time. So I being the good little worker that I am, log on to the website of the manufacturer and proceed to tell them via tech support chat that the external drive is making some sort of strange dinging sound every five minutes. Their suggestions - unplug it ... did that - no change, run diagnostics program ... did that - no change, try a different USB cord ... did that - no change. Still dinging. So I called somebody into my office to make sure that it wasn't a noise that only I could here, because the mother ship could be calling me home at any second and if so then I have a lot of packing to do.

Well it took her one set of dinging to discover that the noise was not coming from the hard drive, that it was in fact coming from my purse. IT WAS THE LOW BATTERY TONE ON MY SON'S CELL PHONE !!! Holy shit ! I need a box of wine ! Maybe the mother ship does need to bring me in for some repairs ... I am obviously too stupid to remain on this planet. Oh wait a second .... if the Tea Baggers get to stay then I am probably safe.

Pack Your Tool Box and Use It

Agoraphobia (the fear of crowded places and leaving the house) is very common for people on these types of meds (antidepressants, anxiety meds, antipsychotics, etc.) and during tapering and withdrawal. It gets better in time, plus you have to work at it. I used to plan big, elaborate trips when I was on Paxil all of the time, but when the time came to leave I would always find some excuse not to go and would cancel the whole trip. It was just easier to stay home. Plus whenever I would go somewhere, I would have an anxiety attack and then my brain would start thinking "I knew that I should have stayed home. I knew that this would happen. I have to get out of here right now." It turns into a vicious cycle.

The only way to break the cycle is to force yourself to confront the fears and to pack a "tool box" of ways to deal with the anxiety once it hits. I used to have a horrible time when I would go to the movies, especially sci-fi or action movies and would end up leaving and missing half of the movie. Once Ranger (from www.paxilprogress.org)taught me to stop fearing the anxiety, it made all the difference in the world. I would make a plan before I would go somewhere. I would tell myself "okay - if this movie upsets you or makes you anxious then you just go walk around the lobby for a few minutes until the feeling passes". It worked ! Staying away from the situations that make you nervous just "feeds the monster" and validates the irrational fears (which is not what you need).

One of the most important tools in my tool box was the ability to stop and analyze what I was feeling at the moment and to be able to dissect the thoughts. For example: If I was in a crowded place and became anxious then my normal response would be to want to flee the situation as fast as I could. Once I stopped fearing the anxiety I was able to tell myself "this feeling is only temporary and you know that there really isn't anything here that will harm you - take a break and walk around outside if you need to, but DO NOT RUN away from the situation". It takes some practice to be able to do it, but it can be done.

Even if it is just going out and sitting on your front porch to read a book, it's so very important to take that first step out the door (and take your tool box with you).

Where Do You Get Pirana Chow?

The question was asked on one of the forums that I belong to about what 5 things would you do if you won the lottery - this is my answer:




1. Trip to Vegas for all of my close friends and the family members that I still talk to

2. Buy one square mile of land

3. Build house on previously purchased one square mile of land

4. Install moat around house

5. Fill moat with piranas trained to attack people that I do not like who might show up at my house trying to be all nice to me now that I have won the lottery

A Recovering Helicopter

A new book has come out talking about "helicopter parents" who are constantly monitoring and "hovering" around their children. I would like to think that Derek and I not this type of parent, but lately I have caught myself saying things that are helicopterish (yes - that's a word - I just made it up). For example, our eldest girl child (aka Princess Cinderella) is supposed to be giving Derek at least $100 a week to put in her savings account to buy herself a car. For the past two weeks she hasn't given him any money to put in the account. However, she has purchased some new clothes and has spent a ton of money on junk food. Well the other parental unit and I have decided to stop reminding her about the money. If she wants to bum rides to work for the rest of her life then that is her problem. She thinks that she is so big, bad, and grown up. Well grown ups don't get reminders about what to do with their money (unless of course they don't pay the bills and then Guido shows up with a baseball bat).

We also have three children on the honor roll. We NEVER have to ask them where their report cards are because they bring them to us - what a concept! The other two (yes the older two) either throw theirs away or hide them so that we won't see how bad their grades are. Well the oldest boy child has now turned 16 and if he doesn't have a certain grade point average then he will not be allowed to join the military. Is that going to be our fault? Um .... nope ! I think that we are still going to stick with the grounding them for bad grades, but we are going to stop "reminding" them about major assignments and make-up work. It's not that we don't care, it's just that they don't seem to care much either and we are tired of worrying about it. If college and/or the military are that important to them then they better get their stuff straight and start being more responsible. No more helicoptering over the grades either !

Of course when you have been in helicopter mode for years, it is hard to stop the hovering, but we are going to try our darndest. We might discover that we have a whole lot of extra time on our hands when we stop worrying so much about every little thing that the "semi-adults" are doing. More time to drink boxed wine !

Circus Clowns on Crack Checks

Back in the days when I was bat shit crazy I dressed like a combination of Dame Edna and Liberace. Combine this with the "stuck a calico cat in a blender" hairstyle and not only did I act crazy, I looked crazy too. The craziness carried over into every area of my life - from the multicolored kitchen cabinets (every door and drawer front a different color with stars painted on them) to the checks that I ordered. Derek was raised in a "we only buy the plain blue checks" kind of family. However, I was raised in the "I am going to buy the checks with the monkeys in tutus on them because I am doped out of my mind ... hey is that a turtle" kind of family. Crazy begets crazy !

I ordered new checks today and I picked some rather plain ones with stripes on them. However, I am going to tell Derek (complete with a print out to show him) that I ordered these .... he he he ! I am evil ! muahahahahahaha! I like to call them the Circus Clowns on Crack checks ... I wonder if they come with their own hit of acid.

He Baffled the Lab Dudes

Derek and I both had to have mini-physicals (go ahead and sing the Olivia Newton John tune in your head while you read this - I give you permission) for our life insurance applications. I have been waiting for a few years to be able to purchase life insurance (turns out that people on probation die younger or some bullshit like that) so actually getting to the physical exam part was thrilling for me. We were supposed to have ours done at our house about an hour before Derek was supposed to start drinking "the prep" for his colonoscopy last week. It was just not a good day for him. Well the nurse had a personal emergency and couldn't make it, so we went flying (not literally) up to the lab so we could have our blood drawn, our blood pressure taken, and give a urine sample (as if it was some sort of gift or something) and then had to get back home so he could drink the "bowel cleanser".

Well we got a phone call yesterday ... evidently there is nothing wrong with my samples. Derek on the other hand has to go back and give two more urine samples. Evidently his pee is the gift that keeps on giving. The lab people and the insurance people will not tell us what is wrong with his urine sample, but I can only imagine that the conversation in the lab went something like this:

"Hey man - you gotta come see this. I have never seen a urine sample like it"

"What are you talking about ... what can be so special about this one?"

"Well other lab dude - I don't think that this is urine .... I think that this guy actually peed out Mountain Dew"

"What ? How is that even possible?"

"I think that's really Mountain Dew and OH MY GOSH .... is that a bacon bit floating in there?"

Starfish Flinger

Copied from "One Month to Live" by Kerry and Chris Shook


A businessman visiting a resort community left his hotel early one morning to take a walk. When he reached the shoreline, he came upon a stunning sight: countless starfish had washed up on the beach during the night in a high tide. They were still moving, still alive, clambering all over one another, trying to get back into the ocean. He knew it wouldn't be long until the tropical sun would bake the poor creatures trapped there on the sand. He wished he could do something, but there were thousands of them, as far as his eye could see, and there was no way he could make a dent in saving them.

So he went on his way. Walking farther down the beach, he came upon a little boy who leaned over, scooped up a starfish and flung it like a Frisbee into the ocean. He repeated the process over and over again, picking up speed, obviously trying to save as many as possible.

Once the man realized what the little boy was doing, he felt it was his responsibility to help the boy by informing him of a harsh life lesson. He walked up to the child and said, "Son, let me tell you. What you're doing here is noble, but you can't save all these starfish. There are thousands of them. The sun's getting really hot, and they're all going to die. You might as well just go on your way and play. You really can't make a difference here."

The little boy didn't say anything at first; he just stared at the businessman. Then he stooped down and picked up another starfish, flung it out into the ocean as far as he could, and said, "Well, I just made all the difference for that one."

I read that story last night and it couldn't have come at a better time. It's funny how the world works sometimes. I had been so down on myself lately about my whole situation - just sure that things were not going to ever get any better - just sure that I wasn't make a difference - just sure that I was "stuck" where I was. If Derek and I hadn't decided to go on a mini-date to Sonic, and the system at Sonic hadn't gone haywire causing us to sit there and wait for 30 minutes, then I never would have picked up the book that has been in the floorboard of the van for months. I wouldn't have read that story at just the right time. The right time for me to see that I don't have to save the world today ... I just have to keep flinging starfish. My story might make "all the difference for that one".

Good News .... Bad News

Good News - the one polyp that they removed from my husband's "nether regions" was not cancerous nor precancerous ! Woo - hoo !!!

Bad News - they wrote me my prescription for Colite (aka Go Lightly) - just seeing it sitting on my kitchen counter is going to make me gag - damn me and my Amazonian height (who knew that tall people had longer intestines)

We Should Have Listened to the Human Trader

In 2000, Derek and I went to see the remake of Planet of the Apes. Ok - it wasn't an Oscar worthy performance by any means, but it did have some clever little comments. One that we laughed at was spoken by the "human trader". He was the little monkey guy who rounded up all the wild humans and took them down to the shelter so that the apes could come through and pick them out for use as slaves. The leader of the apes brought his niece down to the shelter to pick out one of the humans to keep as a pet. She picked out a little girl to take home and keep in a cage in her room. Oh how sad. Well before they left the shelter, the human trader pulls the uncle over to the side and warns him that before the human turns into a teenager that they needed to take it out to the woods and "let it go" because "they last thing that you want in your house is a human teenager". Derek and I laughed. That was ten years ago. Our kids were tiny then and oooooooooh so cute. Little did we know that truer words have never been spoken.

In July, the twins will turn 13, which will mean that we will have five teenagers living in our house. Five !! 5 !! Cinco !! (for my spanish speaking friends) The human trader was right ! People tend to forget that those cute little toddlers grow up to be teenagers who smell worse than barn animals, have the lovely ability to roll their eyes at every single thing that you say, are able to flunk an English class even though the fact that they don't actually do any work in the class is NEVER their fault, and will eat anything that doesn't try to bite them first. I had bananas laying on the counter for over a week so they could get brown enough for me to use them in banana bread. SOMEBODY ATE THEM !!! If I had told them "you have to eat those brown bananas" they would have rolled their eyes, let out some barn animal noise and flunked a class in protest of my meanness ! Why didn't we listen to the human trader ???? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY ?

Anxiety .. The Grumpy Old Neighbor

Somebody posted a question on http://www.paxilprogress.org/ about how to stop "fighting the anxiety" and another member posted this wonderful response. If I hadn't lived it myself (horrible chemical anxiety from Paxil and Ambien), then I wouldn't have believed that something this simple could actually work.

My CBT therapist likened it to having a grumpy, old neighbor that would come over and bang on your door and scream to be let in. If you ignore your neighbor or, worse, yell at him to go away, he just screams louder and keeps banging on your door.

But if you open the door and invite your neighbor in, give him a nice chair to sit in and offer him a drink, he will eventually stop yelling. He'll quiet down. He might not be a pleasant man, and you might not really like him being there, but he won't be screaming and yelling for you to let him in anymore.


I love this !!! It's the perfect example of not "fighting it". When I was going through withdrawal (and during poop-out) I had horrible travel anxiety and would freak smooth out in crowded places, so I would run. My fight or flight response was always turned to flight mode. Vacations with me were no fun at all, I spent most of them hiding in the hotel room. My friend (Ranger) told me that I had to learn to accept the anxiety and not let it ruin my plans. I would tell myself "ok - if I have anxiety in this situation then I am going to do this ... or this ... not run". It was so strange to not try to fight it, but to just let it run its course. The really strange thing was that it worked. When I would always run away from the anxiety and force myself to do things (only to end up having a horrible panic attack and then leave) my mind would automatically start thinking "see ... I told you so ... I knew that this would happen ... you were right for not wanting to come here". It just turns into a vicious cycle that you can't get out of.

When you pack your "tool kit" before you go somewhere that you think is going to make you anxious and you actually let the anxiety just pass through you, then you can start thinking "I came here and even though I had some anxious moments, I survived it and I am stronger because I didn't run away". It is a matter of changing your thoughts, attitudes, and actions which is the basis of all CBT. You are not powerless. You are strong and you can do it !

My Own Braveheart

Up until a few weekends ago, I had never seen Braveheart. Derek had pointed out the "honeymoon scene" to me on several occasions, but I had never actually watched the entire movie. First of all ... it is really really violent and OMG they chop him up at the end !!! Sorry if you hadn't seen it yet and now have to go delete it from your Netflix list because you now know the ending. Not the "feel good movie of the year" at all.

The whole part about the king taking the dude's bride on the wedding night is not only cruel, but well ... its gross. As if the groom would want her back after the king was all boom chicka waa waa with her. EW !!! So William Wallace and his chick get married in secret in the middle of the night with some preacher guy that they probably had to give a goat or two to for getting up in the middle of the night to do a secret wedding. It's probably the best scene in the whole movie (or maybe I am biased because it is not the scene where they CHOP HIM UP !!!). Anyway .. not too long after the wedding, the bad dudes kill his woman. It's not a pretty sight and then he pretty much goes ape shit and vows revenge against them.

Derek and I were laying in bed snuggled up at that point and I asked him "if somebody did that to me would you go after them and torture them like that?". He kissed me on the forehead and said, "I would do that for you now". OMG !!! I couldn't help but cry. My whole legal situation was based on so many people getting involved who shouldn't have been and Derek will always hold grudges against those people who said bad things about me. It was just so hard for him to see me suffer and know that there was nothing that he could do to stop it. I know that he will never do something stupid and he doesn't really have the capacity to really hurt somebody, but the fact that he loves me enough to want to be all Braveheart for me makes my heart just flutter.

Go Lightly My Ass

My hubby had to have a colonoscopy yesterday. He and I both have strong family histories of colon cancer and I have already had several of them. The first time that I had one,the doctor prescribed the Go Lightly laxative ... which comes in a gallon size container of which you have to drink all of it in an afternoon. As soon as I would come out of the bathroom, Derek would hand me another glass of it. It was evil in a bottle !!!

Monday afternoon when Derek was gagging on his Magnesium Citrate I had flashbacks of the Go Lightly (and the Phospho soda and the Magnesium Citrate) and literally had to leave the room while he drank it. Just watching him stand there and chuck it down, I could literally taste it. Well guess what ... me being of the Amazon race and being a six foot tall woman evidently has longer intestines than most people and I don't get to go the Phospho soda or Magnesium Citrate route ... oh no ... I get to go back to the Go Lightly ! Go Lightly my ass ... how about go so many times a day that you feel like your stomach is going to fall into the toilet ... how about go so many times that you wear a line out in the carpet from the bedroom to the bathroom .. how about go so many times a day that even your teenage sons complain about how bad YOU stunk up the bathroom. So next month when I have to have another lovely procedure ... I will be bitching again about having to drink the gallon of evil, which tastes like pineapple flavored bleach water .... hell if you are lucky I might even post a picture of my face after I drink it.... if I have time between trips to the bathroom that is.

Princess Cinderella

When we first adopted Rachel she was six years old. She was mature beyond her years. You would have been too if you had been changing diapers and raising your little brothers since you were three. We had already decided that we were going to change the kids' names (at least their middle names) when the adoption was final and we thought that it would be neat to let Rachel pick her own name. She thought about it for quite a while and then one day came running to us, just beaming ... "I have decided on my new name" she announced. "I want it to be Princess Cinderella" As much as she loved it we really couldn't picture a 40 year old woman named that, so we just kept Rachel.

The Devil on My Shoulder

A coworker of mine gave me coupons to Carl's Jr. She knows that I really do love Carl's Jr. However it is a little pricey for this broke chick, so I only go when I have coupons. Well now I have coupons ! Here is the dilemma .... I am having a physcial done for a life insurance policy on Monday. I really have been trying to cut down on my sodium intake so that my blood pressure will not be high. I have been a "good girl" and have been eating disgusting frozen meals with low sodium (cardboard with some cardboard flavored sauce) all week. Should I go to Carl's Jr. today? Before you answer that ... remember that I do have a coupon !

One of my friends (Amity ... the one who drinks spinach smoothies) is the angel on my shoulder who is reminding me that this burger (the Guacamole Bacon Burger) has 1, 040 calories in it and 2,240 mg of sodium (almost two days worth of sodium in one burger). The other friend (you know her as the evil Laurie who tried to convert me to her alien book reader machine) told me that I basically could be hit by a bus tomorrow and I would be lying on the street saying "Oh how I wish that I had gone to Carl's Jr. one last time".

What should I do ? I was good all week. I really was. Plus I don't really like bacon ... so I could get it without the bacon ... that would knock off at least 2,000 mg of sodium ... right?

Why Doesn't She Just Leave?

The murder of Yeardley Love, the senior at the University of Virginia who was killed by her boyfriend this week, has sparked a lot of debate across the country. So many people are wondering why she just didn't leave him if he had a history of alcoholism and being abusive (to her and others). The blame has been placed on the roommate, her friends, his friends, the school, etc. when maybe the blame needs to be placed on all of us. As a society, why aren't we teaching people how to interact with each other without having to have alcohol or having to use violence? Why aren't we offering courses in junior highs and high schools about respect, love, and conflict resolution? Why aren't we telling children that the best way to deal with life is NOT by having a drink, popping a pill, or screaming at somebody?

I was in an extremely violent relationship my Senior year in high school. I have been beaten with a baseball bat. I have been pushed out of a moving car without my shoes (so that it would be harder for me to run). I have stared down the end of a shotgun while somebody yelled at me "if you didn't act like such a slut then I wouldn't have to do this stuff". He saw me talking to a boy that I had know since kindergarten one day after school. That was what brought on the shotgun attack. He never hit me in the face (the seasoned abuse pros NEVER hit in the face), but my arms and legs were usually covered with bruises the size of grapefruits.

It doesn't start out as physical abuse. If you went out on a first date with a guy who walked you to the door and then punched you in the face, you would run as fast as you could and you would call the cops. It just isn't that simple. It's a slow process where they start to wear you down to the point that you really do believe them when they start telling you that you are a fat slut that nobody but them could possibly love. They get inside your head and you know when they tell you that if you ever leave then they will hunt you down and kill you ... they will. People would tell me all the time to "just break up with him". It wasn't that easy. I was brainwashed into believing that it was my fault and if I just wouldn't do the things that made him angry then we would be happy again. The victim just can't see it ... until one day they either have enough of it and realize that they deserve better and walk out (still living in fear that he will find them) or they stay and they endure it (especially if they have children). A protective order is just a piece of paper and if she doesn't have a major support system then it seems impossible to function without him. That is why I honestly believe that any woman who kills an abusive husband should be given a minimal sentence ... sometimes it is the only way out.

It's also a vicious cycle. My ex's father treated his mother the same way that my ex treated me. When you grow up (both boys and girls) believing that a woman is a servant to the man and that the man has the right to abuse her, then that is all that you know. We have to break the cycle. WE HAVE TO !!!

Just Keep Swimming

Well depression hit hard and fast this morning out of nowhere. I can usually lay still in my bed and pray and think good thoughts and it goes away - well not today. It stuck around. Nothing has really changed and I don't know why I just feel "down" today. There are days (like today) when I get mad at myself for not being able to just "get over" what has happened to me. I expressed this sentiment once to a wise person at paxilprogress (ok - it was Laurie - another shoot out on the blog to her) and she told me "you don't have to get over it - you just have to get on with it". So today - I am just getting on with it - I might be going through the motions and not really making much progress but at least I am out of bed and getting through the day.

My favorite line from the movie, Finding Nemo, is when the fish are all trapped in the net and they just know that it is hopeless. Dory tells them "Just Keep Swimming - Just Keep Swimming !" and eventually they break free of the net and swim away. That has been my mantra and even when I don't feel like being all happy and chipper at least I am "swimming". So my challenge for myself this week and for everybody else is to remember to "Just Keep Swimming".

The Perfect Description of Me

Women are Angels
And when someone breaks our wings,
We simply continue to fly.......on a broomstick......
We're flexible like that!

The Elusive Liberal Christian

I was reading over a Bible lesson at lunch from the book, One Month to Live, by Kerry and Chris Shook (yes, even though I am from Oklahoma, I do know how to read .... and yes, even though I am a liberal Democrat, I do believe in God). I have had the book in the floorboard of my car for about six months now. Obviously, if I had really only had one month to live then I wouldn't have learned much from the book because by now I would be living in my glitter covered cardboard box in Heaven. However, I have slowly made it through the book and am all the way up to Day 26 (26 days of lessons done in 180 days time ... that's not bad at all). As I was reading the lesson for today about how we should make plans to leave relationships behind and not just "stuff", I began to wonder about politics and how much better the world would be if everybody (especially politicians) lived by the idea that we should do something every single day to help somebody else (especially if it in no way benefited us). I can't even imagine a world where people would put people before the love of "stuff". Why is this such a foreign concept? Why do so many of the "moral majority" find it so hard to love everybody? Why is it that when I tell people that I am pro-choice, that I don't own a gun (and never will), that I don't believe that every immigrant should be deported, or that I believe that consenting adults should have the choice of whomever they want to love; that I am automatically told that I can't really be a Christian?

I am the dodo bird (and no - you are not allowed to start calling me that as a nickname - I am just using it as an example), right here smack dab in the middle of the Bible belt, trying to help people, trying to do the best I can, and honestly believing that I don't have the right to judge anybody else.

Can You Teach A Child To Care?

We adopted Riley when he was four years old. Our first clue that he wasn't going to be an easy child to parent came on the day that we went to visit him and his brother and sister at a foster home. We took all of the kids to Sonic to get them slushes. Riley promptly poked his straw through the bottom of his cup and proceeded to wave the cup around all over the back seat before telling us that he had even poked a hole in the cup. He thought it was funny. We did not. We chalked it up to him being a 4 year old and cleaned up the mess.

When you go through foster parent/adoptive parent training they don't go over Reactive Attachment Disorder. At least they didn't when we went through the training. We struggled with Riley for years and had no idea what to do with him. We seriously considered calling the case working a few times and telling her that we just didn't know what to do with this child. We didn't, but we considered it. He lied. He stole. He attacked the other children. He would be superficially nice to near strangers (who all thought that he was the cutest little thing) and then he would purposely disobey us. Soooooooooooooo many people told us how wonderful he was at church nursery and at school and we would tell them "oh just wait until you tell him no or don't let him do something that he wants to". They never believed us .... until it happened. His first grade teacher didn't want to hear our warnings ... she didn't want "preconceived ideas" about her students before she had them in class. She changed her mind after she discovered that Riley had been secretly stealing Tootsie Rolls out of the treat jars for months and hiding them in his backpack. After we caught him and she punished him by not allowing him to have any more treats from the treat jar ... he hated her guts.

Reactive Attachment Disorder can happen to any child who has suffered loss of some sort (especially when they are very young). It can even happen to babies who do not form close bonds during their first few years of life. This describes Riley perfectly. He was raised more or less on bologna and television from the time he was born. His older sister (who was only one and a half when Riley was born) actually was responsible for feeding him and changing his diapers until they were put in foster care. How horrific is that? The foster home that they were placed in wasn't much better. The literally put the kids outside in the morning (this was during the summer) and didn't let them back in the house until after dark. They fed them on the front porch and the kids used the bathroom outside. How can any child form any attachments to anybody in a place like that? Young children don't understand the complex concept of attachment at that age, they just know that they can't trust anybody to take care of them or to hang around long enough to care.

So here we are ten years later and sometimes I wonder if we have made any difference at all. How much is because of what he has been through and how much is just him? Is it our place to help him find his way in the world or is that one of the life lessons that he has to learn on his own? He has to be the smartest, the fastest, the first. He has to have the biggest portions of everything and he has to be told to be helpful to other people. He would spend all day playing video games or watching tv if we would let him. He doesn't like interacting with people and all conversations with him turn ugly rather quickly. He picks on his older brother to the point where Bryce can't take it anymore and it turns into a punching, kicking, biting fight. I worry that the years that I spent on meds had something to do with it all too, but I know that I can't go back and change that. I have to work from right now and am at a loss as to what to do with this child. Can you teach a child to care? Can you teach a child that they don't always have to be first, fastest, smartest, or have the most?