My top 10.

Via our girl over at: You Know It Happens At Your House Too, who has written a blog about gratitude and thankfulness, she asked as a challenge that we follow suit. 


So here are my 10:(not in any order)


1. My new jobby job!


2. I was able to get up and go running this morning.


3. That run felt DAMN good.


4. My beautiful and sometimes frustrating, yet healthy daughters.


5. Wonderful friends who "get" me and let me be myself. 


6. Healthy kitties, whom I love and adore.


7. My car, my lovely car. It's the 3rd car I have owned outright and paid for all by myself.


8. Sobriety of course. too many reasons to list here....


9. My ex. 


10. My family...they crack my shit up constantly. All of them.


Your turn...you know, if you want.

When saying thank you just isn't enough, I try and live it.

So, Here we are folks. I am on day "it doesn't even matter, it's been so fucking long" 145 of finding a job with ZERO luck. 
It's sad. It's hopeless most days. It's a feeling of utter despair and huge fucking fear. It's knowing that very, very little separates you and your children from being homeless. 
Yet, there are these people. these people whom you have NEVER met face to face. These people who feel your struggle, KNOW your pain right down to it's core...people for which I can never say thank you enough. Thank you isn't even a real statement at these times. You know who you are...countless people have prayed, chanted, given suggestions, run with me, send msgs of hope and laughter, shaken chickens, and various other good juju things my way. Some of you have sent me things. Paid for things. Helped me in ways I am not deserving of but incredibly grateful for. You, this page of people have rallied around me, loving me, hoping for me, carrying me when I cannot go on another minute.  
In all of this all I can do to repay and say thank you is to live it. What does that mean? That means to honor all of you. To practice what I preach. To be kind to strangers. To go to meetings and stay sober. To pull my head out of my ass and find solutions...even painful ones. 
I am grateful....I am honored to know all of you. 
Love you guys...

The courage to change...By Betsy Why, guest blogger and Tripper.

Thank you again for letting me have this space on your blog - it really is so sweet of you!  Now, on to the post:

If you're reading this, you should know that I'm fat.  Not one of those size 4s who think they're fat, not even the "I sure would like to drop about 50 pounds" kind of fat - more like "does your circus sideshow know that you're missing?"  (and yes - you can laugh at that.  I did!)  I'm also 35 years old, and I've been overweight since I was 7.  Anyone who has ever been this big can tell you that it is about far more than putting down your fork and going for a jog.  There is a lot of self-hate and low self-esteem and emotional "stuff" involved.  Up until very recently, I was someone who hated herself.  Not just hated - loathed.  I was ashamed of myself.  I saw no value in me at all - all I could see was my fat body.  And I have finally learned that what I look like and who I am are not the same thing.  (That is SUCH an important lesson!)  I had to get *there* before I could feel like I was worth doing something about my weight - but I still lacked the motivation.  (So if I can do this - you can too!!)

Life, the universe, whomever you believe is in charge of this kind of stuff, has a funny way of giving us what we need, right when we need it.  I randomly happened upon the Tripping While Standing Still facebook page, and found the page owner to be charming and funny and most of all - inspiring.  One day she posted pics of herself before and after running - and I thought the after pic was even more beautiful than the before.  I wanted that glowy, "just worked out" look, that "I DID IT" look, for myself!  Then I read a quote she posted that says "dead last finish is greater than did not finish, which trumps did not start" and I decided enough was enough and I needed to get up off the couch.  For lots of reasons (health-wise and just personal preference) swimming is my exercise of choice.  So now I was faced with the knowledge that I was going to pour MY self into a bathing suit and go to a PUBLIC pool and let myself be seen by OTHER PEOPLE.  lol  I knew it was going to be tough - after all, I'm not exactly a supermodel.  The first day was a bitch, not gonna lie.  I was nervous, and self-conscious, and I hit the pool when it opened (5:30 am!) in hopes that I'd be the only one there.

As it turns out - there are only two other people silly enough to hit that pool at that time, and they are serious-pants lap swimmers who are training for a competition.  So there I am in my granny swimsuit, doing water walking at my slow poke pace, and these graceful fishes are over there looking like Michael Phelps!  For the first week, I showed up every day, slipped unnoticed into the water (or so I thought) and went about my business.  But then one day, as I was doing warm-ups, I was watching these two guys swim...just watching their form and speed and ok yes one of them is super hot lol but I guess he saw me watching because when he finished his last lap, he came over to my side of the pool and introduced himself (we'll call him D) and asked my name, and we had a really nice chat.  I told him that I was just starting out, and was envious of his speed and agility and perfect form - and he said that he was impressed by ME (!!!) and was very encouraging and sweet about me hanging in there and that one day soon I'd be joining them over on the lap swimmers' side.  It just felt like...validation.  Like I really AM doing something good, and important, and that I will make progress.

I've been going daily now for about 3 weeks, and I've added swimming a few laps to my walking routine.  And I'd love to say that it's gotten to be habit, that I just leap out of bed and think "Oh goodie!  Time for the pool!" lol and some days are like that -- but some days are like "Ummm...NO."  Tuesday was one of those days.  I woke up in a horrible mood, spent a lot of time crying, and finally forced myself to the pool, still trying to suck up the tears.  As I was walking out of the locker room to the pool, D was coming out of the mens' side.  His face lit up and he said "I have something for you!" and turned around to go back into the locker area.  It turns out that he had been so...impressed, I guess, by me that he had gone home and told his wife about me - and she made me a lap counter!  It's the cutest thing -- a little suction cup on each end, and sealife-themed plastic beads strung between them.  It sticks on the end of the pool and you slide a bead over each time you complete a lap.  It's a little thing, but it was a HUGE gift, and I managed to thank him without becoming a puddle of snot and tears.

So it's funny to me how the inspiration I needed got dropped into my lap at just the exact moment I was ready for it - and in the form of a facebook page that I started reading for its humorous content.  In turn, I have somehow inspired D and his wife, and their gift to me could not have come at a better time.  It's still hard - today I needed someone to shove me out the door because I was feeling so sorry for myself about how pitiful my little workouts are and how far I have to go to reach my goal weight, and because I tend to give up on myself very easily.  But it doesn't matter how long it takes. I am *doing* this!  

I asked Betsy to write because she inspires me every single day. I know she is embarrassed, like me..I know her struggle and yet, she pushes herself to get out there and move. It's the first step to any problem that creates a solution. Thank you So much Betsy! Much love....

29 hours to go...

So, most of you know that my kids have been gone for almost a week now on Spring break. They are at Disney World. I wanted to give you a list today of what I miss about them...which has a striking resemblance to what I bitch about.

1. Waking on pins and needles to see just what will be walking out of youngest's room. Mary Poppins or Reagan.

2. My 14yr old's CONSTANT texting. 

3. All 3 of us having our cycles 1 week apart. That means, 3 weeks of PMS.

4. Dirty dishes....actually, no, I do not miss this.

5. Tripping over book bags, shoes, instruments, left right. in. front. of. stairs.

6. My water cup constantly and mysteriously being empty despite my constant filling.  

7. Eating dinner and 2 hours later having cereal.

8. How the laundry piles are filled with pj bottoms even though nobody plays in the mud while sleeping. 

9. Talking to eldest, her looking directly at me and then asking me what I just said.

10. Telling me that something is "due" TODAY, that very morning.

11. Only speaking to me when I am on the phone or watching the last 5 minutes of a 2 hour program. 

12. Leaving things on the stairs to be taken up and said stuff remaining there for a month.

Mostly, I miss the hugs, the smiles, the laughing, the joy of having these 2 lovely ladies in my everyday. 

The person next door.

Here is the thing folks, I can handle a great many thing...passive aggressive and aggressive behavior are not them. Especially from a grown ass adult toward my kid. I will FUCK you up. PERIOD. Was I just aggressive? Hear me out and you decide....

In 2001 we built this house and moved to a neighborhood with sidewalks and schools about a block away. Little did we know the freak show that was about to ensue. On our block all of us within 5 houses of each other goes as this: ALL blue collar dad's, one military mom, 3 stay at home mom's, one full time working mother of one and a lesbian couple.

I was the youngest of the mom's which was a reason for people to bitch, I had an awesome body...and the husband's all loved me. WHY? Because I am not one of those bitchy, do it now kinda wives. I do not care if you nap, or hang with friends. Steve worked 2 jobs at that time. He was a hard worker. I cooked and cleaned and rarely complained....I was hated and did not realize it. I played with my 1 and 3 yr olds in the snow, in the rain, at the park, we went for walks and caught frogs. We had a swing set and kids liked playing here....it's true, I was fun mom. We had such a good time.

Laura, the FTWM, lives next door. She is queen bitch. and I do mean Queen. She had single me out and for whatever reason she was going to take me down. She found her chance, when, the neighbor's across the street started having an affair. I was friend's with one lady, she with the other. My friend was having the affair with other's husband. Do I think it's right? NO. But, I had no idea what had transpired until the day I was told I was trailer trash for having a whore for a friend and nobody could believe I had taken my friend's side.

It became a war zone after that....the block was awful. I still did the same things but I became a shrunken woman because it was 5 bitchy bossy women, lesbians included, against me and friend.

Over the years she would make snide remarks about me, I would move past it...blah, blah, blah. Then when my daughter and her daughter who are the same age were going into middle school, my kid was enrolled into all of the ET or honor classes, hers, um, was not. Her comment to me on the front lawn was this "how'd ALEX get into those classes?" My reply? "because she's not slow"....GLOVES OFF. I had had ENOUGH of being bullied but most of all..my kids were NOT going to be fucked with. (no, I do not think being in ANY kinda descriptive class makes a kid slow. I was in the slow readers class and it turns out I just suck at testing)
When Alex got her period, as kids talk, she told people...kid next door put ketchup covered pads on our front door. WTF?????? I politely peeled them off before my kid could see them and I dumped them on her doorstep.
My kid was accepted to IMSA. cracks made....I confronted her. Alex was just asked to spring formal and got a dress...my daughter by the way is a stunning beauty. I'm not just saying that. Anyway, all of a sudden, they refuse to be drivers of MY kid only in the early band carpool. JUST MY KID.
Perhaps I am the immature one, the passive aggressive one....perhaps. But I am fucking done with this bullshit. DONE. I would NEVER exclude a kid because I hate the parents. NEVER. I feel sorry for this kid and how she will grow up with such a mother. a bossy cunty bullying mother.

Thanks for letting me rant. I know I have missed more to this story about her behavior toward my kid and if it comes, I'll let you know.

I'm Fat, let's talk....

Ok, here is the deal. I need to lose about 65lbs. YEP. 65lbs. It's the truth. Not so I can be a skinny bitch again either. This is just to be normal sized again.

I can go over and over how I got here because I was always on the thin side. truth be told I drank at least 2,000 calories per day. Ate at least 4,000. Being hungover all of the time doesn't allow for much exercise, either.

I did start running about 2 yrs ago. Slimmed down quite a bit. Fast forward to 3 broken ribs and my ability to not move for 2 months and EAT everything...I of course put it right back on.

I weigh more right now than I have... EVER. I have quit drinking. As of recent, I've DRAMATICALLY cut down on ALL dairy, on breads and I hate it.

I LOVE food. Pasta. Pizza. Cheese. Fried anything. Pepsi. YUMMY!

So, I've been half-heartedly "running" again...ya know, like a toddler dragging themselves behind you, you yanking their arm, them screaming and whining... I'm starting back to couch to 5 k(c25k) tomorrow with my new running partner Katie and I'm excited and grateful. And let me tell you why....Last night, I got on the floor(rolled and fell onto) to do crunches. I was fucking OUT OF BREATH...getting on the fucking floor. OUT. OF. BREATH. Then, as I lay there, I felt like my fat was literally strangling me. It had starting trying to EAT ME...That got me scared. I mean, my fucking fat is trying to murder me. After my 100 crunches in 30 minutes I decided I'd had enough of this and SOMETHING drastic MUST be done. So, here is my plan:
Katie and I(or just me if she cannot) are going to go running 4 days a week.
I'm gonna go walking the other 3 days.
I'm doing 100 crunches a day.
RAIN OR SHINE.
 I'm going to fully expect to be called out by you guys and asked if I did my shit, OK?
I'm NOT going to be murdered in my sleep by my fat.

So, Let's do this...let's battle this bulge. Next time you see me, I'll be the Biggest Loser;)

faking it....

No, I'm not talking about an orgasm. I'm talking about my life.

You see, I'm newly sober, newly unemployed, very broke ass, 1/4 tank of gas, blah, blah, blah....I'm tired of hearing me say it. It feels like I'm just making excuses. I know I'm not, I know that when I cannot sleep, I am filling out apps at 4am. I am cleaning and doing laundry, faking my every anxiety ridden, prozac missing, movement through each day.

Okay, so, I live with my ex-husband. The deal when I moved in with the kids was I'd pay rent and cable and buy groceries. I'm NOT blaming him for my financial state. Although that would be easy. I am taking responsibility for my actions here. I fucked up MY shit. So, moving on. I cannot help but get pissed off when me and the kids are getting a box of food from a stranger and he is happily purchasing a new pool table and pool lamp. With MY rent money. I know...I get it. I agreed to the terms.

The looks I get when he sees me "just" sitting at 9am. He just woke up. I've been awake and had an entire day by that time. He shakes his head at me in disappointment, about my bills. About my lack of job. It's SO frustrating. I can feel the disgust he feels with me.

You see, I never learned how to do my finances. I know that sounds weak and excuse-y, but it's true. I am so ashamed by this I cannot ask for help. I do not know who to go to for help and it seems pointless knowing I'm near financial ruin. What's the point anymore?

You guys, I just feel broken. Broken and scared.

So, I keep faking a smile while I sob.....and just pray.

I am grateful. Or faking it when I need to.