I Might Have Missed the Memo....or Did I?

I'm going to file this under TMI because there is poop in it. HA HA. Sorry.

I mean only a little though. And it's not dog poop. It's about you pooping. Not me . Because you see I do not actually have waste. I am 100% sparkle. That's why I can flippantly discuss this.

Ok, so poop's not the topic, but if you're this far down you're not turning back. Today, things got a little silly on the Twitter and my Twitter mafia and I started discussing sayings that don't make sense.

The conversation started with "See a Man About A Horse" because I heard someone say that earlier and then someone else just kind of chuckled. Yes, I know that means you're going to go poop, thank you for sharing you creeper. But laughing dude, why are you laughing? Do you actually get that joke? I mean why do you have to see a man about a horse? What does a horse have to do with poop? I don't get it. Are you looking between your legs and there is a horse? Or perhaps you make horse noises? I mean Im sure my speculation makes it even more disgusting than it needs to be but really, what does that mean? Fortunately, on this one, an old friend who is notorious for being an idiot and knowing everything at the same time piped in and told me it basically means it comes from the 1900's and buying a horse took a long time. So essentially, you're going to be gone a long time. Damn my train of thought was pretty far away from its destination on that one.

So I thought, before good ol' Max K deciphers every single one of these, I thought I would post some on here that I don't understand and let you come along as my train goes the scenic route to find out what the hell anyone is talking about. SPOILER ALERT: Nothing gets solved.

Allright.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush
What the hell? First of all, bush reminds me of the time I was in like 6th grade and some boys on the bus were asking if I trimmed my bush and I said what? No my mom does because I thought they meant rosebushes because what the hell else could that mean, when they really meant my private spot which made no sense at all because I was only like 11. This train needs to divert NOW. But you know what I mean. So automatically, any time I hear the word "bush" and it's not referring to a band with hottie frontman Gavin Rossdale (call me) , my brain goes back to that day on the bus when I had to ask the older kids why that was so funny. There was no google then. Damn I feel old.

So why the hell is two birds in the bush the same as one in the hand? They're birds. The birds in the bush can fly away and if you grab the little fkker in your hand by the foot he can't. And if it's a girl bird, then she can lay eggs and you'll have more birds, so I don't see how they are the same. And that's just me trying to take this apart literally. I don't know what this could relate to except maybe money. But one dollar in my hand is not the same as two dollars in the bank because I will spend the dollar in my hand on chocolate and eat it and then the two dollars in the bank will over draw and become negative dollars because I forgot netflix was coming out. So I really don't get it. I dont relate.

Next.

There are more than one ways to skin a cat.

Are you kidding me? That's disgusting. Who wants to wear cat fur. Plus it falls out and gets all over the place so domesticated cat fur would be a stupid accessory. I'm assuming thats why you would skin a cat anyway is for the fur, but if you want to skin a cat for any other reason you are not only fashion stupid but you are crazy. Why would you skin a cat? So how does this relate to what I'm guessing this means which is there are more than ways to solve this problem. So, why not say, instead, that there are more than one ways to smash a scary bug. Because there are so many bugs and it makes sense why you would smash one, and also you can smash one with a glass, with a hammer, with your foot, I mean, soo many ways. And it makes sense and could mean the same thing. I don't know who started this saying, and I imagine it was like eary times Twitter where Twitter was actually one of those crazy carrier pigeons that only knows how to fly home and people lived really freaking far apart. That would be pretty disrespectful to the pigeon if all it was carrying for three days was LOL. Which pretty much as pointless as "there are more than one ways to skin a cat" in olden days. Maybe they were poor and ate cats. I just dont know.

It's as broad as it is long
I know this means basically "who the hell cares, why does this even matter" but I would never say this because people would still say "What?" or here in the south they say "Doooo-whuuutt?" So, this one is just stupid and therefore will never leave my typey fingers again or my lips.

It's raining cats and dogs
Ok, I get it, it's raining alot. But why not say it's raining cars, or houses, or I dont know, ALOT. Why cats and dogs? Why not just one, why both? Raining cats and dogs would be messy and loud and extremely unfunny.
I don't like this one. I prefer "It's pouring" OR "it's raining a sh*tload" if you are really committed to being a smartass. That's just me though.

Can't get blood from a stone!
Of course you can't. Why would you try? Squeeze a bug, and they bleed cool colors, like green. But not a ladybug because that's messed up, what are you some kind of evil monster?

People in Glass Houses Should Not Throw Stones
I completely understand this one, and I'm only adding it here because it needs to be updated. No one throws rocks anymore. They're like nasty little word assassins. So people who leave their phones lying around shouldn't piss me off because I'll update their status to say they are pooping. Because people are too damn stupid to understand see a man about a horse and it gets way more "likes" if you keep it simple. Ok, that was a reach and that made no sense to me, so I'm going to edit myself and basically say . DONT BE A JERK. That's what that means. Stop being an a-hole. Because being an a-hole is second only to being a douchebag and douchebags weren't invented in olden days, but assholes definitely were.

Okay, so that's it for now because I'm supposed to be doing something else, and my ADD meds are kicking in so if I don't withdraw right now this will be 44 pages long and actually smart, which would make it unfunny. And it would have footnotes, but then at least Derek from Teague Publishing would be happy. (I'm still not ready)

Love and kisses and unskinned cats and horses that were bought impulsively.

Shannon

Scar Tissue That I Wish You Saw

It's obvious I am in some sort of funk. It's not the anonymous comment sender that used every kind of dirty word possible to get to me - because yes, this person got to me. Do you know what I wanted to do today? I wanted to hire a thug that had a hook for a hand to scare him for messing with a darling like me. Honestly, it's just hard to find one of those. And I didn't really try very hard. I considered the tried and true scattering nails around his piece of crap car tires, because that's what losers do. That's when I realized that that would be loser of me. So I fantasized about all the awful bad luck this person would have. Then I reminded myself that I thought he needed botox and a new hairdo and his clothes sucked, he acts bipolar and I was warned about him several times when I was on his good side. Then I also remembered his boyfriend probably has to put up with this every day and then I imagined if they ever fight over their underwear, or if they slapped each other like girls if they had a fight. And then that made me laugh. Was that rude of me? Yes, but it kept me from acting out in a direct way that made the person feel attacked. And then do you know what I did. I sent him chocolate and sunflowers. And I didn't like, exlax the chocolate so calm down. I had FTD send it. And I wrote a nice note. And I think I told him to have a happy life. Except it was really just grating to say nice things when I wanted to tell him what an arrogant pizz worm I found him to be.

Then I realized I was doing it again.

My funk has very little to do with that, in fact I don't know what it has to do with.

I'm torn about writing about my feelings because I know from experience that people love to read about others' misfortunes. Some people want me to fail. But rock stars get to pen anthems about their breaking hearts and they get celebrated. I go through a funk and people tell me I say too much, yet they still read it.

I think the truth is , is that people all hurt in some way or another and it's never funny to capitalize or use someone else who is in pain, especially someone who is brave enough to put it out there.

It is not for attention, it is how I cope, and when people try to take it away from me, it makes me feel so very sad, for the world, not just for me.

Everyone is home from school and work now, so I have to switch modes, but I feel like my heart is floating in a fishtank full of cold water, with not even fish to keep it company. I don't feel like hurting myself, I just feel cold and numb and not myself and I know that somehow, I must find a way to keep going. There is no turmoil in my life other than that really rude person and I already handled him. In fact I get more postive feedback than ever. I think I finally understand the Britney Spears Song "Lucky"
in some sense. Obvioualy, I'm not a mega-star but I relate. Watch here.



I'm surrounded by people, but I'm cold and very lonely.

(to the anonymous hateful commenter, cont'd)

Feel free to continue reading, but my blog is still aimed at that one person who anonymously , venomously attacked my honor for no reason and actually made me cry. My Twitter family is in agreement that you are a jealous jerk and my husband wants to beat you up. But anyway...

Joy cannot be appreciated without understanding and feeling sadness..
nor can contentment really be assessed without pain
Celebrations are so much more festive when something has been overcome , and there is nothing like pride when it outlives humiliation.

My feathers are pretty ruffled now, but let's not forget how sparkly they normally are.

You're just an asshole and there is nothing pretty or sparkly about an anus. Hmmph..

Superficial Wounds Heal Fast, but Some Still Bleed

This response is to an anyonymous commenter who left one of the meanest comments I have EVER read - and it was unprovoked - but I know who it was, and I also have recieved rambling incoherent emails from same person, unprovoked. I realize this may be TMI for a blog, but this is my blog. Mine. Are you a business looking to hire me? Well if a REAL person with REAL feelings and the need to express them turns you off, then just keep looking. We're not a match. I need this blog.

--

Writing hateful things from a hateful place can't possibly make you feel better. To the person responsible for the comment nobody but me saw, I hope that it made you feel better.

To drink from that kind of poison may give you instant gratification, but if you have a concience at all, you will have to continue to drink from that up to numb out that voice that resonates in your head or heart that tells you that what you are doing is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Your emails have surprised me, hurt me, and made me realize that what you are dealing with is possibly alcoholism due to the slurring and the misspelled words and the unprovoked rants.

But I forgive you. I thought you were funny and vibrant and I hope that you choose to let that shine through more than your dark side. We all have them, I am no better than the next person.

Just please, please, let me have my blog. Let me write. Let me be happy and try to make others happy. A few people have figured out that my soft heart gets damaged easily, but it's because it's always extended.

I choose to leave my heart on my sleeve anyway. I hope you don't take shots at it , but if you do, I guess that's on you.

I'm not perfect. I'm real, I mess up, I blog about it, I cry every time I watch the little mermaid, and I always pick up heads up pennies, and that heart of mine always bleeds a little when shots get taken. I guess it goes with the territory. That doesn't mean it's fun.

I do forgive you, and I forgive everyone who has and will treat me in a hateful way. I realize this happens to everyone in life, but it doesn't make it right. Hurting is just such a bummer. But at least you got the satisfaction of knowing you hurt me right? Does that make you one of these?

Well, Aren't You a Concerned Bunch?

Well HI! I have had an attitude check and I am feeling much better. Actually remember when I was timing out my little rants that happened like right before my aunt flo came to visit because I swear I have PMDD? Well that actually was my irrational meltdown day, because the next day, guess what!!! SO , even though you're sitting here going, GROSS SHANNON, AGAIN??? I am giving PMDD another point which means I am not crazy, it just means that I have some kind of imbalance and it's not totally my fault. Although I would like to applaud myself because my self control during my little "episodes" is getting a lot better and my rant happened in digital form and no one physically near me got hurt or anything thrown at them and it didn't end with me in a room for 15 minutes bawling and my husband offering wine or chocolate or anything to make it stop.

See? That's improvement!! If you're a new reader, you're going to need to back it up a little and read for some history instead of writing me off as crazy. I mean, I don't know you anyway, so think what you want, and I moderate my comments, so I'm kind of in charge here. YEAH!!
Anyways, my blog is nice and organized and all my crazy blogs are tagged rants, or PMDD, or whatever, so it'll be fun.

Wait give me one more second before I describe what happened this weekend. It's not that funny, but I decided to tell it like it was. I mean it was but...whatever here we go again. So last week, that rant, basically was aimed at a person who wrote me an email from their professional buisness email and then spelled all kinds of crap wrong, calling me unprofessional for not approving my press piece and opinion through them without publishing (uh, what?) in said email , and I completely word-assassinated them and then ended it with "thanks for the delicious cupcake" which was the only thing I liked about the killjoy of an event they attempted. Then I wrote a blog about how stupid they were (leaving out names) and how frustrated I was, and then I deleted it and wrote that I needed an attitude check. So there's that story. Oh, by the way, this really super professional person is claiming they can blacklist me from the industry. Really? You go on ahead with your 17 followers and misspelled emails to the press. That's cute. Because I actually did write a positive press piece because I felt so bad that their abortion of an event was such a joke I actually thought I could be helpful. Wellllll, I pulled that piece from publication so fast I'm pretty sure my laptop spun. I hate you. Don't make me mad, I'm really sweet, honest I am, but I will destroy you digitally if you are an ignorant idiot. It really takes a lot to piss me off. Just don't. Especially at the end of the month, then you're double screwed.

So, that is the recap for the flood of inbox "WTF" I got and the texts regarding why I need an attitude check and please repost the blog. I'm not reposting it, there's your recap, and I'm pretty sure even though I had a right to be angry, I should not have posted a blog so quickly before I calmed down. Thank you for your concern.

Well screw it, this whole blog was donated to that dumb event again when I really wanted to tell you my People of Walmart story. Dammit. Ok that's gonna have to be another blog.

Shannon needs an attitude check.

(lound annoying noise)
This blog has been interrupted by the Shannon Needs An Attitude Check Safety Bureau. This is not a test. The previous blog has been deleted because after further investigation, it has been determined that Shannon is not going to be allowed anywhere near a blog until she has had sufficient sleep, headache relief, and is possibly not on the cusp of another PMDD meltdown. Or is not just acting irrationally for no other reason than she was wired to think she is Queen and those who cross her must be destroyed. And these are just the acceptable forms of TMI that actually make it past the safety committee. Thank you for reading. This concludes this test of the Attitude Check Committee. Shannon will resume her normal blog activity when she can play nice with the other kids.

(loud annoying noise)

Hallo, Norwegia. I'm FAT!!! (TMI!)

I still can't sleep. It's so frustrating I don't even really wanna blog about it but I'm sitting here and I hate TV and Facebook is all full of earthquake jokes and I'm in a pissy mood. However, I got two new blog readers from Norway, so I thought I'd just throw something up here to let you know that. I also know that Norway is not called Norwegia. It's been a crazy week here in NC so far. Today we had the "earthquake" and Thursday I hear we're getting slammed with a hurricane. Busy, busy.

In other news, it's the end of the month so that means I'm going to probably have my monthly meltdown like clockwork. By my estimation it will be Friday. Based on my last one. I didn't even blog about that, but squash soup ended up on the wall, I rebroke my toe and I also sliced two of my fingers really bad I thought they needed stitches. Then my husband and kids scrambled to make me a chocolate cake so I'd come out of my room.

I could stop right there and let you believe that I'm badass like a honey badger and that I don't care, but actually, I was trying to make a cream soup like they have on the Queen Mary 2, every day a different "cream of" and they are all delicious. Anyway, I was boiling the squash and then I thought I would just puree it but you can't do that when it's hot because basically it explodes everywhere and scalds your face too.

Also, it's a good idea to put the dog outside because when you have a dog that is basically pony size like we do (he's a rhodesian ridgeback) he likes to hang out in the kitchen and lie on the floor and guard the food or something except he just gets in the way and you might bump into him when you have a knife and jump when he growls and slice your finger. Don't ask me how I know, I just know. Sadface.

Also, watch where the hell you are going because when you have a broken toe that just healed, stubbing it again when running to get towel for your scalding face doesn't really help either.

On any normal night all of these things happening would make me just cry but during the week before my period, and especially on the meltdown day (calculated exactly one month from the last one) bad things happen. Most people would act all crazy if that many unfortunate things happened to them in a row. I usually just blog about it or write facebook updates about my bad luck and I get sympathy. But during meltdown week...oh lordy...

I threw a fit so heinous and stompy that no one knew what to do. But they're warned when meltdown week begins. It's like shark week, but way more personal. Anyway when the meltdown happens, everyone knows to just leave it alone, leave me in my room for 15 to 30 minutes , sobbing, and don't dare ever tell me I'm wrong or you'll die. And get me chocolate. If you follow those simple rules you will survive me.

Do I feel really bad that this happens? Yes. I am telling you I can't help it. A lot of women get bitchy and mean or during PMS or are just bottom line crazy all the time and they don't care. I think that I'm a good deal because I only act insane one day a month, and I'm kind of pissyish the days leading up but otherwise harmless. Anyway google PMDD I do not have time to justify it. Wait yes I do. Ha.

Anyways so it's meltdown week. Someone's getting it probably Friday. I doubt Thursday because it's the Britney Spears concert. I always get good seats though thanks to my ticket ninja and my ticket jesus. They're seperate entities, but thanks to being very well connected, I never have to put up with stupid people stepping on me or jostling me at a concert again. I also get my own VIP entrance most of the time, so I dont wait in line either. So, Thursday, it is not likely that someone is going to get hurt. Unless they provoke me. Then I will smash them.

And lets just be honest here, by "smash" I mean probably stomp and go on a rant of some kind that probably has some bad words in it, that will conclude with me hiding in my room. I know, really scary. It's more like a toddler fit but sometimes they're funny. I dont mind telling you about them.

Um, oh, I call it Metldown Week because I think it could happen like, any day, with my antisocial behavior and crampy tummy marking day one, and my tolerance for idiots dwindling steadily and my pants size going from loose 4 to tight 6 due to my stupid fat stomach getting all pregnant like, until like day 5 when the meltdown happens. But it could happen any day.

The good news is that I can park in the expectant mother parking at Harris Teeter and then walk with bad posture and no one ever questions me.

just gimme the chocolate and no one gets hurt...

Reasons Why. (TMI..)

I want to preface this by letting you know that this isn't gonna be one of the sillies. The information might make you a little uneasy if you are new to my little following. My regulars who have followed me through the years know this story already, but that was another blog. So don't bother yourself with this if you already know, I have told this story before and I will tell it to anyone who has the time and patience to seriously ask me why I get so damn excited about every little thing. I think I want to kind of peel back a layer and tell you why I have so much joy. I almost lost it all not so long ago. I have also had people reach out to me who have felt the same way, and if my story helps someone else, if it helps someone turn a corner then I will tell it til my face is blue. I have no shame on this matter other than the bad decisions that got me there.

I wasn't supposed to turn out the way I did originally. I grew up with everything. I graduated from one of the most prestigious high schools in the southwest with good grades. I went to college on scholarship. I have won trophies. I have been crowned. Two consecutive years I held a title with a tiara. I owned one of the best show horses around at the time. I won blue ribbons, I won jewelry. My family loved me and supported everything I did.

When I got married I didn't think it'd end in a divorce. But it did. and I won't disclose all the terrible awful of it, but I definitely had a role in the demise. I am kind of a brat sometimes. I'm better at filtering that though now.

I didn't want the divorce. I realized and took responsibility for the mistakes I made as best as I could, but my distress tolerance skills just weren't healthy. I have never had anyone actually leave me and never look back. I even cringed when I typed that. It was so awful.

I avoided the bad feelings and I worked as many hours at my airline as I could just to stay away from home. I bolted across the atlantic when I didn't have my kids. Sounds nice, but it's really a watered down airline perk.

When I was home, I used adderall to control my adhd so I could focus on doing things like making the kids dinner, cleaning up, things that seem natural to a normal person. I wasn't functional without it. And sometimes with it, I'd hyperfocus on my sadness and be unable to function. All those good intentions, sitting in my stomach like poison. I literally would stare at the wall for hours. Praying to just...fade away.

I lost my appetite. Stress is the best diet. I started getting positive feedback, so I added excercise and became addicted to losing weight. My company interventioned me and sent me to an inpatient eating disorder facility in Florida. I thought if I stopped, my husband and I could work things out, if I could just relax and have a fresh start. It didn't work out that way, the damage ran too deep and the disorder got even worse. I lost so much weight I couldn't pick my head up sometimes because it took too much energy. It took too much energy to make tears. So I'd take the ADD medicine and wind up enough to go back to work, but my heart began to malfunction and I ended up back in the hospital and back into counseling. The airline environment was like high school. The women were catty and they were horrible to me when I started getting sick. I had this huge blog following, 15,500 readers, because I blogged about my feelings. They got ahold of it at work and used it for more ridicule. It didn't have my name or anyone elses but they knew who was posting. I used the blog for therapy, and sometimes my version of what happened whatever day I talked about was exaggerated. I knew they were reading it but I also didn't want to quit and let them win. They were brutal. Brutal, brutal, brutal. Brutal. Words do not express the hateful things that were said to me because of my divorce situation, my appearance, and my bag of pills I had to carry around all day just to survive emotionally and physically.

I realized that putting things out there was making me look bad but I really just wanted help. I couldn't be honest with my family because I felt like a failure. All that potential. All that money spent refining me, what a waste.

When I was able to work, I would need the adderall, then I had the ambien and valium to calm me down at night. I had the worst panic attacks. My heart was so damaged from the malnutrition
Eventually my grief got so bad that it overcame the resources I had to cope. On July 7th 2009, I had had enough. I had myself convinced my life was so far off the path, my internal GPS lost its battery, and my soul was sleepy and apathetic. I had been saving ambiens for the occasion. I'd been thinking about it a while, but I never told anyone while I was planning it. I didn't want to be stopped. I didn't want to be helped. It was too late, no one cared to help me before. My kids were better off. I really thought that. I was always crying. I was always in the hospital. Sometimes they brought me sandwiches and begged me to eat. No child should have to do that for someone who destroyed their own body. I was so ashamed. Yes, I decided it was better for them to be free of me.

I walked off the job during my break. There was an hour before my next flight. I figured all I needed was 30 minutes and a quiet spot. I took my car to the overlook adjacent to the 18R runway and I was terrified but relieved that it would be over soon. I didn't want people "be sorry" I wanted to no longer exist. I took my Dr. Pepper and I emptied the bottle of its contents. A fistful of little blue pills went down so easily I had to check my hand to make sure I really took that many. All gone. It's over. Ambien works *like that*. My phone rang and rang. They must have noticed I was gone. I ignored the calls. I felt fuzzy. I passed out. The thing about ambien is that you drunken dial. It is famous for sleepwalking side effects, sleep eating, and phone conversations that the person doesn't even remember. I must have answered my mom's call or called her. I don't know. I briefly woke up and thought, why is there a flower on my face. I tried to pull it off. My hand was swatted away. So I fell back asleep. I faded in for seconds and out for hours. I was intubated, and that was the flower I thought I had on my nose. I dontknow why I thought it was a flower. I just did. There was so much blood when the tube was removed that it should have hurt. But it didn't, I just passed back out.

When I woke up fully, I realized what I did and I realized it didn't work. I was so pissed off but so sore from the tubes that I could barely talk. Now I'm going to get ridiculed even more.

Two weeks in that hospital, but I would have stayed longer. My job let me know I was still safe with them. Well great. Right back into the snake pit. I didn't have a choice.

Back to eating rehab back to counseling.....a year of that shit. I finally prayed for this to just stop for it all to just lift and I could just at least have something to look forward to.

My family became very supportive when the gravity of the situation was recognized. Ten minutes longer in that car would have been the end.

I don't know at what point it turned around but I think it was the prayer. I prayed so hard I fell asleep that way.

I went back to work to those assholes that always had something to say. I stopped blogging so much unless I just had happy reports because screw them I wasn't gonna add fuel to the fire. I missed it but I kept going. I didn't have an intimate relationship with another man for a year. I gave up, I LOL'd in my head at the thought of ever finding love. Whatever, I didn't need it anyway.

In January 2010, I saw a match.com commercial and I felt compelled to fill out a profile. I was lonely. I wanted a friend at least to take me to dinner, something. Maybe I wanted someone to date, someone to just sit with, they didnt even have to be hot. I was so lonely.

The first message I got was from David. We met for coffee a few days later. We fell in love like the movies. We had a relationship like the movies. We had the most stupid fights but we had so much love. He never told me no, he gave me alternative suggestions. He always brushed my hair out of my eyes. He kissed my eyes when I got sleepy. He brought me chocolate. We were so stupid in love. I told him in the beginning that I was not looking for a husband, no freaking way, just please someone to spend time with that had kids. That way he had other priorities. I wasn't gonna let myself be a bad mom ever again, so there wouldnt be room for any more love in my heart but I sure needed company. Ha ha ha, well, I could just go on and on about our delicious courtship. It really was the stuff of movies. This man is the flower sending, handwritten letter kind. He still is. I married him. I married him and I had the most opulent Cinderella wedding ever. And do you know what? Those airline hags started treating me differently when I became ....whatever it was they found validation in. So I invited those people to the Ritz Carlton wedding. And fed them lobster and let them drink unlimited Vueve Clicquot. Because I forgave them, mostly. But I will never forget those ugly things they said, and might still say now that I've taken up blogging again. I just don't care.

I left the airline, started my own businesses and now I'm doing great. I find joy in everything I can find joy in. I almost didn't to experience this so I'm going to revel in every small wonder, every little pleasure, every positive emotion, Im going to savor and spread and record because something inside me knew I belonged here...I just guess I got a little too impatient.

I love, love, love my family and friends. I love me, for the first time ever, in the history of my whole life, I am proud of where I am, of what I've overcome and what is waiting ahead. If I hit another rough spot, I'll ask for help immediately. I will finish my bucket list and I will die an old, fulfilled woman, with lots of grandkids and great grandkids and I will tell them I love them every single day. There is not enough time left in this life not to fill it with laughter every chance you get. This I know to be true.

TMI ALERT: Balloon Stomach and Toothy Nightmares. Jealous???

Oh hello there. 

This is what I feel like

I am having one of those days where I feel sloppy and unmotivated and I really don't want to write but I'm going to anyway because it's always cathartic.

I got my dental cleaning done today and I have really healthy teeth. Which was surprising because I haven't had a cleaning in like 8 years, and then before that it had been at least 10 years. 

One would think that someone who doesn't go to the dentist doesn't care about their teeth.  That is so wrong.  I have the worst teeth anxiety. I have this reoccuring dream where all my teeth are falling out.  But they're not falling out, they're just hanging by one piece of flimsy skin and in my dream, Im getting frustrated and I can't keep them all in my mouth. 

I also get really antsy about possible tartar , so I am known to grab a safety pin and poke around and try and scrape stuff off the hard to reach parts near my gums myself.  Actually, Im not known for that, it's something I have done as long as I can remember and it's one of my naughty secrets.  I guess that qualifies for TMI now doesn't it since it's sort of gross.

Well, now that we've gone into TMI territory, who wants to talk about my womanly issues again?  Oh, oh, pick me!! 

I look like I'm 5 months pregnant.   I am not putting a picture up because , unlike everything else, I cannot find the damn humor in this at all.

I heard today that my ex husband told someone that my pissy phase is so bad that he wouldn't even put a professional wrestler in front of me when my switch flips.  And also warned he new wife not to EVER f*** with me. 

That's kind of funny.  I laughed about it but it's kind of embarrassing because it's like temporary insanity for reals.  Anything can set me off, and like I said the other day, when the pressure valve finally pops, I dissolve into anger, then tears, then I curl up in a ball in my bedroom and cry it out.  Approximately 15 minutes later , I stop crying.  About 15 minutes after that I'm fine again and the next day the period usually starts. Then it's gone until next month and I very rarely get pissed off unless I'm provoked.  It can be done, but it takes a lot of irritation and then I finally choose to get mad and express my anger. These PMDD ish meltdowns are much, much worse and very much out of my control. 
(very personal and somewhat troubling details alert...sorry)
When I was going through my divorce, I am ashamed to admit that I didn't handle it well.  I handled it terribly, actually. I had very scary episodes.  Both times , I woke up in the hospital on my period.  So while I definitely had a choice in the matter, these instances were instrumental in figuring out that there might be something going on other than "I'm insane" because I'm not. 

Now that my life is absolutely easier than it was, there is no financial difficulty, there is no emotional difficulty, I am in love, I am loved, and I have friends to support me, all of the controls (much like a science experiment) are set.  I'm stable.  And these meltdowns still happen like clockwork, once every month, a day or two before Aunt Flo shows up.  It's debilitating. It's embarrassing, and yes I feel shame, but there is absolutely nothing I can do. 

My anger today has been simmering.  I found myself firing off smartass texts in response to people and being very short with the kids.  I know it's coming, and I don't feel like crying so hard my eyes are swollen shut.  I have nothing to be crying about!!

I always take a warm bath when my pains get intolerable, and I glanced at my tub today.  I took a cup of tension tamer tea in there.  I have various potions and bottles and bath salts and they're all boasting names that promise to relieve my stress.  I have aromatherapy lavendar, I have tension salts, I have candles, I have aromatherapy candles, I have a cabinet with hot stone massage rocks, I have 3 different lavendar based oils, all aimed at fixing stress and the only time I ever use them is when I deal with this crap.

Nothing makes me feel as good as writing about it does, for some reason.  I dont know who you are, you brave person making it to the bottom of a rant about my period, but thanks for hanging out with me and being a friend.  I feel better already. 

Love You All The Way To The Moon,
S

This Can't Be Good TMI ALERT

Warning:  This blog contains references to my period and some stuff about going to the dentist. If you're going to be a whiny baby and complain about TMI, then you're going to need to close your browser now.  If you continue to read, then it's your damn fault and I will not listen to anything you say unless it's good mocking material . Yes I am aware the whole world can read this. That is the point.  Thank you.

Love, Management. 
________

Okay, so according to last month's rant, entitled WTF, I was going to track my emotional meltdowns.  I usually get a really bad one once every month.  It could be about anything.  It's usually really stupid, or I wil take a valid point and get so up in arms about it that I might find it funny at a later date. Possibly. As long as it's not around "that" time and then it would probably trigger another insane meldtown.  It would be like meltdown squared.  The kids don't even fight with me, they run for cover and sometimes bring alcohol to my room while I'm bawling in the dark. Not kidding. 

The good thing is , is that so far, the last 4 times, I have noticed a pattern and been able to predict it within 3 or 4 days, but I actually have documentation from last time.  So, today or tomorrow, someone's getting death threats.  I've been really good about warning people.  It's embarrassing though when hell week happens on vacation and you're travelling with another family.  I had to do that once and I ended up taking the wife aside and explaining it so that when the meltdown did happen, they would understand.  It happened the next day and no one said anything.  She was really cool about it and even related.

I usually get really angry, really fast, and my emotions explode like a water balloon inside my face, and I say something really mean and possibly with a bad word in it and then I go to my room and jump under blankets and cry as hard as I can for 15 minutes. If I am left alone, I will be okay.  But someone better at least check on me and hug me first or I might think they don't care and throw another hellish fit.  I can't explain it, but the anger is like, psycho angry and it comes fast and hard, and I can't not dissolve into tears. I'm sure I look insane. 

So, tomorrow is my first dentist appointment in 8 years.  The last time it has been over 10 years since a cleaning and the hygeniest ripped apart my gums and muttered under her breath and told me I needed to come every six months.  Turned out I had ZERO cavities and no gingivitis even.  So screw her.  I brush and floss (sometimes floss, only on top, my bottom teeth are so crowded it wont fit , which is why Im getting braces or invisalign in Feb) anyway, I take pretty good care of my teeth and the only reason Im going for a cleaning is because I can't take the impressions for invisalign without a proper cleaning.

If they give me all kinds of attitude, what in the hell is going to happen if tomorrow is D day?  I swear I think I have PMDD, but only for one day of the month.

I'm really scared of the dentist and I'm also scared I'm going to leave the office wearing a bib with all their trays upended and cotton hanging out of my mouth and drool all over my front.

Not good. Not good at all.