Music is life…especially in the car.

I drove across town for my boss, today. It’s always nice to escape for a while. I fell into the  music trap, though. I tuned into my 2000s mix on Spotify and went back 10yrs, 3 relationships and a kid.

You ever listen to a song that you’ve heard a million times, but suddenly the words make sense at a certain point in your life?

Yeah…Dido. White Flag

I will go down with this ship…and I won’t put my arms up and surrender. There will be no white flag above my door. I’m in love and always will be…

I know I left too much mess and destruction to come back again. And I caused nothing but trouble…I understand if you can’t talk to me again.

Now, please don’t think I’m weak and miss the last guy, but there was a time when it all applied. It’s just amazing how music can transport you to happy and sad times. The next song that came on was about sex, so I was instantly taken out of that moment…which is a huge accomplishment. It’s just so awesome that people get to make their living writing and sharing these feelings with the world to help them get through tough times, drive the happy ones and inspire new ones.

Anywho.

White Flag showed me that I’ve made a lot of progress and that it’s ok to miss someone. You can’t turn off some things. You just love them from a distance. A looooong distance. “You wouldn’t want to accidentally hit the with a bus” type distance…

The (literal) defective heart

No more sad talk about worthless subjects and insignificant people. Let’s talk about me dying.

Ok, I’m not REALLY dying, but my heart isn’t beating like normal.

I have always dismissed the flutters and pressure as anxiety because they are both symptoms. Hell, I blamed even more of it on weight. It turns out, there may be much more.

My cardiologist spoke to me about a rare condition in women called Fibromuscular Dysplasia . He explained that weight could have nothing to do with my symptoms and my elevated bp. It has no cure, but treatments include medication and surgery, in worst cases. I’m officially on watch and must go through wearing a portable heart monitor, stress tests and CT scans of my kidneys.

Sounds like fun, right?

In some cases, you can live without treatment. I’ve been exhibiting symptoms for years without a clue. Had I not been stressed about that fiasco, I’d never have mentioned anything to my doc.

I thanked him for being awful. He may have saved my life.

When it has to go wrong to be right.

I never wanted it to be this way. I never wanted it to crash and burn in a fiery mess. I tried. You’ll never know how much I tried. It doesn’t matter anymore.

I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m mad. I’m over it.

I’m over it and not, all at once.  I’m over some parts of us. I can distinguish. You push my buttons and I try not to react, but you push them so hard that they break and I’m stuck on “auto” for longer than I’d like to be. I can’t do this anymore.

I wanted to let go, but you wouldn’t let me. “LET’S BE FRIENDS!” Why, I’d ask as you spoke of wanting to get together like we used to. There was ONE time we never had a problem. You wanted more of that. I couldn’t see myself giving more of that and going back to dysfunction the moment you crossed the state line. You tried to make it all my fault. If we stopped speaking, it was because of me. You would never delete my number or connections on social media because you care about me. 

You didn’t care about the loss we shared together (yeah…that one. I did that by myself. It was MINE alone). You didn’t care about you creating THIS and not getting that I have the right to be mad or hurt about it. You didn’t care that I have to smile EVERYDAY for my baby, even when I wanted to just cry in a corner. You didn’t care that you threw moving on in my face less than a month after you started it all. But hey…let’s be friends.

No…

I took my queue from Shonda Rhimes and Olivia Pope. The way Olivia annihilated Jake’s feelings before his wedding to save him from being killed by her father due to her love for him. I did that to you, only it was to save ME. I had moments where you made me think I WAS crazy, so I gave you that. I called you the thing you hated most. I insulted your fatherless upbringing. You thought it was me being crazy. I solved the problem.

I bet you deleted me this time. You won every battle. I won a war I never wanted to happen.

This is done.

Motherhood for dummies…myself included.

My daughter is the most beautiful thing ever ejected from my person. She’s funny and sweet and silly. She can say her ABC’s, knows how to point out a dog in a picture and knows when to curse in the right context.

Yeah…

She’s been on this earth 17 whole months and can use the word “sh*t” like a miniature sailor. The gem of all of this is that she learned this from her great-grandmother.

Hey, I don’t pay for childcare so this is what happens.

Finding out I was going to be a mom…a single mom…was so scary. I wasn’t worried about whether or not I could take care of her, though this clearly deviated from my ongoing, ever changing life plan. I was worried about whether or not she would even like me. I was worried she would come out and cry whenever she saw me or wouldn’t like hugs and kisses. I’m so thankful I worried for nothing. We stood in the middle of the grocery store, yesterday, and completely shut off the world for a moment while we shared forehead kisses and cuddles. Heaven in a shopping cart!

There were things I was NOT prepared for. She is 17 months old today and I didn’t realize the “terrible twos” would bring out this little person I occasionally want to trip into a pile of soft foam (I mean, she’s still my baby, even when she’s awful. No booboos!). She hits, bites and throws tantrums like I’ve never seen. My perfect little child has a temper. I don’t acknowledge her when she does these things, per the advice of her pediatrician, but I do worry that this will carry on into later toddler years. I guess I can only pray that this behavior doesn’t mean I’m raising any less of a CEO and not more of a serial killer. Right?

We focus a lot on the good. I believe in positive reinforcement and encouraging her to do the right things as a redirect. She is a great kid and I wouldn’t trade her for anyone…even though she watches me shower like a little creeper.

Frustration for dummies

How many times do we need to hit our heads against a wall before we realize it’s time to stop and move on?

When we get the first headache?
When we knock ourselves unconscious?
When we are finally blinded by the blood in our eyes?

Why is it so hard to let go of things that hurt us most? Why can’t other people just understand how we feel so that the endless arguments and bickering become obsolete and they realize that their actions affect one another?

Conflict, especially in my life, generally runs two ways. I can’t always play the victim. I’ve hurt people. On purpose. I have experienced many different types of people and I think that has given me an advantage in knowing a lot more than some. It’s almost like me having an extra weapon in a battle. Sometimes I hold this over the head of my opponent. I’m not always prepared for someone to fight back; fighting is overrated anyway.

My problem is that I develop a reputation for fighting a certain way (calmly…using my words effectively) and when I decide to wave my white flag, it can’t be seen. I change the way I speak or receive and it goes unnoticed…it doesn’t matter. I’m only remembered for the negative. It’s held against me. I’m punished. Everybody changes. Some more than others. Sometimes people are so stuck that they don’t notice that they do and are too stubborn to ever be wrong. This does nothing but push the other person away. If you want someone in your life you fight to keep them there, right? If it’s worth it? If it’s not, you let them go. Isn’t the what we are supposed to do?

I’m a good person. Most people would say that. I’m not a BAD person, but I can be MEAN when I’m hurt. Trust me, I’ve come a long way. I’m no angel, but I’m much better than I used to be. I’m still growing. It takes that time of learning how I operate to understand that the way that I say something isn’t meant the way that I say it. I’m aware that my tone could  cause a spark in a gas splashed room. What I miss is that everyone doesn’t know that speaking a certain way is just normal for me. I drip and ooze sarcasm and Daria-esque angst. This isnt negative. It’s just ME. THIS is something that can be lost on the wrong people. I have to learn to stop caring so much and just allow people to muddle in their own misunderstanding.

I speak on myself, just to help one gain understanding. This posts isn’t about me, though. It’s about me not knowing what to do at the wall. You can find yourself just standing there…waiting. Some days, a pebble will fall and you’ll see the tiniest ray of light pour through. It gives you hope…and you wait for more. And wait…

And wait…

You fall asleep and you wake up to find that spot and it’s been filled…replaced with a new stone. Then there’s nothing left to do but sit and wait again. Hell, sometimes the entire wall cracks and you have a great moment and you go to sleep so happy, only to wake up to it fully repaired…again. On dark days you leave and you find joy elsewhere. You always come back to that spot by the wall though, for whatever reason.

So when does it end? When does it stop? When do you finally walk away and stop coming back? I already know the answer to that, but who is perfect at following their own advice? I suck at it.

I brought a blanket to the wall today…

Why I can, but don’t…

I hate dating. So I don’t. What you do is meet nice guys and friend. Then, if you’re both single at the same time, half the work is done.

I kid.

Kinda.

I have gained 40 lbs since I had my daughter. It doesn’t mean that I’ve gotten bigger than ever. It just means that I went back to where I was before she was born. I once said that pregnancy was the best thing in the world! I felt great. I lost weight. I ate healthy enough so that my splurges were negated. When she was born, I could clearly see that perfect hourglass hiding under there. If that isn’t inspiration, I don’t know what is.

I got lost somewhere along the line. Bouncing between happiness and depression will leave you stagnant and or obsessive. I never obsessed about how much I ate, but WHAT I ate was a different story. When I’m depressed, I eat poorly. When I’m not, I eat well.

That was easy. Therapy session canceled.

It all comes down to tricking yourself into thinking that you’re fine. This isnt a bad thing. If we lie long enough, we start to believe it. The past two months have been a little sticky, but I have to shake that sh*t off. When I weighed at the doctor on Friday, I was a little surprised. Of course, I’m on a long term birth control and that does nothing to help the emotional up and down and binging during crying fits.

How do I even begin to fix this?

First, stop crying. It’s rough. It’s good for you. Limit it to just a few times a week. I schedule it. Trust me, it works. You hold back on reacting when you have designated time to look forward to. This also reduces the potential jail time you might have faced for snapping in the momemt. Second, don’t rely on alcohol. I love wine like I love spending other people’s money, but neither should be staple activities in your life. Last, and certainly not least, remember that there are people out there who love you and want you to succeed. Be it with education or losing a significant amount of weight, there are people who want to see you do well. I have my child to run around with. The day she can outrun me is the day I start to lose my power. Not before she’s 8 (should be my height by then). I’m awake and aware and it’s something I have to work on. Less crying, back to better eating and focusing on the positive.

And…exhale…

Dating is much easier when you’re in a positive space. You meet better people when you feel great about yourself. You attract what you put out. Insecurity brings the insecure and confidence brings the same. I, literally, see nice things ahead of me. Real nice…with great teeth. How I love a smile that matches mine!

That’s story for another day…

Hello…it’s me

It has been a very long time since I’ve been around. It’s so much to be mommy and a student and a worker and an ex girlfriend. Speaking of being an ex, let’s  dive into that.

eHarmony. Oh, dear sweet, expensive eHarmony. I decided that I would never do online dating, again, but decided to try one last time. I paid for a year membership in February 2015 and they matched me with nearly everyone, everywhere. You spend an hour plus taking the personality quiz, only to be matched to everyone. I didn’t lie. I was honest. I’m a complex individual. The first time I ever tried it, I only received a few matches a week. That seems very believable. This time? Bleh.

So, fast forward to January 2016 and here comes a normal looking guy. We start the intro process. We like each other’s answers and boom: emails and texts. He was perfect. We talk for over a month and suddenly we decide to meet. He’s so handsome…even in person. He was a perfect kisser. We spent the weekend together. Amazing. We decided to see each other the next week…maybe the one after that as well. Did I mention he lived 3hrs away? He came to me because of my daughter. It was easy. He was accommodating. He was sweet. He was perfect.

He woke up one day. It turns out he had only been a few months out a long term relationship and he was in over his head. A relationship wasn’t what he wanted right now. Did he still love me? He said yes. I believe him. Did he change quickly after. I say yes. He says  no. I appreciate him not wasting my time and I resent him for wasting my time. Does that make sense?

Being friends wasn’t something that would work for me. We’ve tried. It’s too much for me. He doesn’t know how to be a good friend to me. Maybe he can’t right now. Maybe I won’t let him. I’m moving on. I had a goal to wait for the love of my life. Maybe he’s already here and I just didn’t know. I guess time will tell. I don’t want to dwell anymore. I still love him. He’s very special. Just not for ME.

Motherhood is my bright spot. My daughter curses like the cutest little sailor thanks to her great grandma. We will get this under control. She gives me purpose to wake up. Some days I need that. I try not to let her see me cry. She looks confused. She will continue to play, but I don’t want her to see me that way. She’s a happy, healthy, beautiful girl. She is enough of a reason to not sweat things beyond my control. I’m a great mom, they tell me. I need to hear that. I feel it, but I need to hear it.

This is therapeutic for me. I have so much more.

Mama’s got a brand new tummy

I love mom life. I knew it was for me when I was about 10 years old. I am loving every single day with my little pumpkin and it is the reason I don’t get to come here very much. I wish there were more hours in the day and I could do this for a living in addition to taking care of my little one, but…I choose to make money in the “real” world. Maybe I can turn it into a job one day.

I will try to do more and be better. i want my little one to read her mama’s thoughts one day. For now, I am working on gaining the weight I gained AFTER pregnancy. I didn’t gain during and I was the lowest I had been in a decade 2 weeks after she was born. Gotta love it.

I did 56hrs in labor. What’s your problem again?

Hi all! Well, those of you left…

I’m a mommy! It has been a while since I posted because of work and, ya know, child rearing. I have just been enjoying my little one and adjusting to different duties at work. I miss going on about nothing. I actually DO verbally blog…to my baby. She gives great feedback. She isn’t a very effective listener, but that’s ok. She will learn.

I would love to share that on Dec 11, my doctor noted that my amniotic fluid was a tiny bit low. My baby was fine and I was only 2 weeks out from my due date, but he insisted that I check into the hospital that day or the next to start the induction process. I was deemed high risk because of my weight, but I didn’t gain any and all of my levels were perfect the entire time. I was pre registered at one hospital, but he was going out of town and wanted me to be near his team at the hospital closest to his office. I, reluctantly, agreed to check in on Dec 12.

I was nervous upon arrival, but nothing too bad. They started me on a round of Cervidil, which is a little T-shaped insert that is supposed to soften the cervix in preparation for dilation. It’s a 12hr treatment and I wasn’t even a cm, so I knew I was in for a long 24hrs. Of course, it didn’t work and we started another round, 12hrs later. Then, THAT didn’t work. I was then given a 4hr insert called Prostin. Two treatments later, THAT didn’t work and I was hardly one cm. I would like to share that the nurses would express sympathy each time I was checked for dilation because I was in absolute agony. They said that each treatment was the equivalent of meat tenderizer being applied. I didn’t realize this wasn’t normal. I was THEN given a balloon. The balloon is something that is inserted inside the cervix, blown up to 3cm and tugged every few hours. That was awful they would tug it and tape it to my leg at the new pull point. Again, I didn’t know all of this agony was not apart of the process. When the balloon was able to fit through is when they finally started my pitocin. I never dilated past 5 (I think) and, after 56 hrs of labor total, I was finally given a quick and easy c-section.

Sounds like fun, huh? You can’t help but feel a little gangster after that. I outlabored pretty much everyone I knew. I knew my tolerance for pain was high,  but you’re never truly tested until child birth. I’m a warrior…literally. My answer to everything is “56 hrs of labor”.

I believe that certain people were meant for motherhood…like it’s natural for them and things just flow. I knew that I would be one of those people. She is a great baby (not just because she’s mine, but really). She doesn’t excessively cry and she makes it fairly easy for me. I’m a blessed mom. I’d go through it all again in a heartbeat. I would love to have #2 in the next 2yrz. Yes, I am insane.