I Want One Of Those

Sooo...this week? Special...yeah...that's it...special. I think I may be starting to scale my way out of the abbreviated pit...finally. But honestly folks, this week has been tough...tougher than I expected actually.

One of the reasons, if not The Reason I started building walls so long ago is because I feel things on a ridiculously deep level. My emotions come first followed by logic and common sense lagging at least several weeks behind. I am particularly fond of a comment Earl made about Grace from the show Saving Grace: "I'm sayin', I love the way you love, Grace. It's a fierce, white-hot mighty love." Garry has a saying of his own, "Mama only knows one way to love...too much." This is true, but it is also true for any of my emotions. Now that the walls are down and they are allowed to run free? Gads. Add a few hormones to the mix? My advice to those around me? RUN FORREST!

I scrapped the first draft of this post. It was a hormonal nightmare...frightened even me. I actually did the same thing with an email earlier this week...but I digress.

And before I go any further I want to make something perfectly clear. I take full responsibility for my actions. Dealing with the horrific hormonal intricacies that have manifested themselves in my life for the last few years has not been fun. It ain't no picnic folks and I'm not going to lie...they've gotten exponentially worse in the last year. But to blame all of one's actions on one's hormones is utterly absurd. Oh, don't get me wrong. They are evil little bastards. But you know what? They are no match for me. I'm one strong broad and I'm sick and tired of giving them control over my life. (Wow...that was impressive. I think I really am starting to climb out of the pit.)

So the trick right now is balancing this new "feeling everything and not building walls" with "wallowing in it". You remember balance don't you? I had it tattooed on my back? For at least two days this week I wallowed in it. Sunday and Monday were wretched. I honestly think I cried all day both days and nothing made me feel any better. I went back to my bag of tricks from two months ago...nothing worked. I went for a walk on Sunday...and I cried while I was walking. To make matters even more complicated, the spousal unit left Sunday afternoon for a week of training in Chicago. I have the utmost respect for single parents but I do NOT want to be one. Monday was like one long, depressing trek through oatmeal. It was one of those look at the clock days and say, "In just 12 more hours, I can go back to bed." Tuesday I put on the "normal" face and went about my business but I was still a wreck. Hope threw up at school and I found out about it purely by accident. That one bothered me on about 17 different levels...the most urgent being that she might have been exposed to the tainted formula while she was in China and we need to watch for symptoms of said exposure. She has a very understanding teacher this year and I handled it in my best Mama Bear fashion the next day. Wednesday and Thursday were two of the most delightful Indian Summer days I've ever experienced. I strapped Claire in the stroller and took a walk in the sunshine. Did it help? Nowhere near as much as it should've.

When Garry called Thursday night and said he'd be home late Friday I told him I would be waiting at the door. I was going to a hotel for the weekend. He laughed...nervously...and reminded me that I have to be home early Monday morning for an appointment. I reminded him that my appointment is right down the street from several nice hotels.

No I didn't go to a hotel...I have a sick child to take care of and worry over. But dear LORD I wanted to. I still want to. And no, I don't want a spa day. Manicures, pedicures, facials, and massages require that someone put their hands on you. I do NOT like to be touched. If I have allowed you to touch me in the past...and continue to let you touch me? You are in a very exclusive club my friend...probably less than a dozen members worldwide. So what did/do I want to do at said hotel? I want to take the hottest shower I can stand, crawl into bed, curl around a pillow, and cry until it just doesn't hurt anymore. Away from friends, away from family, away from people...away from responsibilities...just...Mel. If that delightful little activity doesn't take up the entire 48 hours then staring out the window, thinking deep thoughts, sipping some peppermint hot chocolate sounds good. So does firing up my laptop and having a Season 1-2 catch-up marathon of Californication.

Which got me to thinking...well yeah, Californication makes me think other thoughts but that's not what I'm talking about. I could build a chain of Meno-Resorts all over the world. Places where women like me could escape...ride the wild 'mone wave out until they stabilize. The only problem with that is who, in their right mind, would ever want to work at a place like that? Can you imagine? Constant screaming, non-stop tears, room service trays winged at your head for no apparent reason? And that's just from the owner. So my next thought was, "Ok...how about Meno-Cottages?" I could start a company that builds these little retreats in the homeowner's backyard...built to their own specifications! Let's see...mine would have...three rooms...mini kitchen, luxury bathroom, and a multipurpose living/sleeping room. Oh yes...flat panel TV...whirlpool bath...big comfy bed...a wall of books...yeah...I want one of those.

You know what else I want? A mysterious bowling alley owning guru who can by simply looking at me, intuit exactly what it's going to take to put me back on the right path. I want my life to get better with a pair of blue size 8's. I'm more than willing to collect business cards from eight people wearing red in order to make my life not suck quite so much. And no, if you don't get that obscenely vague reference I'm not going to explain it. If you do get it however, I will kiss you the next time I see you.


Let's see...what else? Ah yes, I want to be Hank Moody. No...I don't want Hank Moody...well...ok...maybe there have been moments. Actually I think it would be more fun to BE Hank. Hank is possibly one of the most fascinatingly hilarious characters I've ever come into contact with. Moody is the main character in Showtime's Californication played to delicious perfection by David Duchovny. He's a writer who simply just doesn't give a crap. He says whatever pops into his brain...doesn't care if he offends anyone...no regrets. He just is. And while a grand portion of what he spews forth is complete bullshit? He has also been known to utter some of the most blinding truths I've ever heard. I started watching it this season because, yes, Rick Springfield is making a guest appearance. I'm glad I did.

I don't know where my life is going and frankly, I think that is the underlying cause of ALL of this. I like to have all of my ducks in a row, planned out, for the next 3-4 years...and right now? I can't even get a grip on the next 3-4 hours. As I've progressed in my Journey to New Mel...and with each step I've taken...each task I've completed...it was as if a tiny flame sparked from some long dead ember inside of me...and would grow just the slightest bit stronger with each task I would complete. That flame has been blown out...lost in the last two weeks. I had no idea how I was going to get it back or even if I wanted to get it back. Wouldn't it just be easier to go back to Old Mel? And there are going to be days, like yesterday, when all I feel like doing is "wallowing in it" but can't afford to, that I'm going to have to call on Old Mel for help. She was a champion wall builder...none better. I'm exhausted folks...I can't afford to overthink or over-feel for awhile. I'm not calling it a wall...let's call it a curtain. It's flimsy, but for now, it's giving me the few hours of peace that I desperately need. I have no desire to live through the flood of emotions that come with building walls and tearing them down ever again.

By no means am I looking on this as a defeat. Remember the overly emotional first drafts of this post and an email from earlier this week? I stopped myself from publishing...from hitting send. I walked away from them...let them sit...and didn't share them until I got some control. Two weeks ago I had something happen that would've broken me a short while ago. It hurt, it pissed me off...but it didn't break me. I spent a week with my children by myself and I didn't lose my temper with them until Thursday night. I'm still amazed over that one.

I've decided that I want to go back to school once Claire starts school full time. I have not formally decided on what I will be studying yet, but I will keep you updated. Suggestions are always welcome. Yesterday I received an offer from someone who'd like to promote my work. I'm going to check it out. I haven't thought about continuing my work as an artisan in a long time. We'll see where this leads. I can do this. I WILL do this.

As always, be blessed y'all,

Changes

Yeah...so...

The last few days have sent me back into the pit. No, not all the way back to the bottom thank God. Let's just say I tumbled over the edge, slammed against a few sharp boulders along the way and landed on my face a good 50 feet from the surface.

What brought about this delightful little detour? I would hazard to guess that it's a combination of a lot of little things. I've been going full throttle for the last couple of weeks. I'd reached that stage in the grief articles where you are looking forward to life again...feel the need to clean out, start over, organize your life. Mel being Mel, I only have one speed...Mach 20. Fueled by the EXTREME high of a clear head for the first time in months I was the very vision of a white tornado. Rooms that hadn't been cleaned in ages sparkled. It was suddenly no longer taking your life in your hands to open the door to the pantry. The magazines being shoved under the couch since 2007 are no more. I cannot tell you how liberating it was to clean out and organize all of my drawers and in the process throw away two garbage bags full of clothes, and donate another two shopping bags full. I am no longer that person. I don't want to wear her clothes.

I had started on the closet when the bottom fell out. I didn't even want to take my bath last Friday. I felt like crap. I spent my entire Saturday in bed. It was torturous. The sun was shining...it was most probably the last nice day we'll see until spring. Well great...now I'm crying...this just sucks. Sunday? Back to my normal (yeah, whatever that is) self. Up, dressed, sorted laundry, took the girls shopping for their Halloween costumes, had lunch with the fam at Rockne's, even managed to sneak in a walk, albeit a chilly one. Right before bed, the blues returned. Folks, I don't get the Sunday night blues. I haven't since I quit my teaching job, but let me tell you, that's what I had.

This week has progressed and my mood has darkened. Yesterday? On three separate occasions I found myself sequestered in an out of the way, quiet room in my house sobbing...projectile tears...body shaking...gut wrenching...sobs.

Besides being sick and exhausted the girls are doing the holiday thing. You know...every year Hope becomes a loon around no matter WHAT holiday it is and Claire has learned by example. Speaking of examples, Hope's picked up some FABULOUS new things at school. I don't know how many times in the last week she's told me I have a big butt. Let's see...I've also heard that I'm the oldest one in the family (the truth hurts), I have a giant belly, and boy I sure am fat. Swell. And no, she has not heard these things from anyone inside this house because if her Daddy said those kinds of things to me or anyone else Mama would already be in prison for teaching Daddy some manners the hard way.

The sorrow of yesterday is today's anger. I woke up on simmer and it boiled over about an hour ago. I am well and truly pissed at everyone and everything. Today? Without exaggerating? The girls haven't listened to a single thing I've told them. Not once. Mama Vesuvius erupted after lunch when she walked into the girls' bathroom and found...puddles...all over the vanity. I asked why there was water all over the vanity...I thought that was a logical question. Claire chimed in with, "I no do it! Hopie do it!" Sooo...I say, "Hopie? Why is water all over the vanity?" No answer and she was closer to me than Claire. I repeated myself for the third time. She said, "What did you say?" At this point there was actual steam coming out of my ears. I repeated myself a fourth time and was told that she did it because she wanted to and just to see what would happen. The top of my head is getting ready to blow off. Then while I'm ranting at her about the mess she's made she puts her hand to her mouth, blows one of those delightful little fart noises, and laughs herself senseless. Yeah...the explosion was felt three states away. I'm not going to win any Parent Of The Year Awards today.

I think something else that is bothering me has to do with the fact that it will soon be my dad's birthday. He would've been 86 this year. Wow. For those of you that don't know the story:

When I was a sophomore in college, my mother and I had gone into town to do some shopping. When we returned home she looked out the window and said, "Why is your dad laying in the backyard?" This really wasn't an unusual question as I have pictures of Dad sleeping just about anywhere...even in an upturned wheelbarrow. I said, "I don't know, he's probably sleeping." She said, "But the ground is so cold..." I ran out the door like a shot, called to him the entire time I ran through the backyard. When I finally reached him he wasn't breathing and his lips were blue. I started CPR. My mother came up behind me and said, "Should I call an ambulance?" I told her yes. She was frozen in shock. I got up, ran back to the house, called for an ambulance, ran back outside and started CPR again until it arrived. He was pronounced dead at the hospital...massive coronary. He was 58...I was 19.

Losing a parent at any age is hard but somehow I think the younger you are the worse it is. You carry that with you every single day for the rest of your life. I can still tell you that his mouth tasted like cigarettes. Want to bet if I took up smoking after that? I could taste what he had eaten for lunch...and I can't even think about eating said item. I won't share it with you. I don't want to ruin something that you might enjoy by attaching it to someone's death. I have a tremendous amount of anger towards my father for basically leaving me in charge. I became the "mother" that day. My mother is NOT helpless, but will portray that role with relish. There were many things she refused to do that she could've done. I want to be able to say that's done and over with. I want the hurt and anger and the just plain I am SO PISSED OFF feelings to go away. I don't want to hate my Dad because he died.

Add to this the ever present, ever fluctuating hormones and OH what a great life I'm having. I have learned through all of this that feelings LIE. And those frickin' little hormones get in there and poke at those lying feelings with sharp pointed sticks. I have become very good at realizing when the hormones are trying to take control. I try very hard NOT to listen to them. I refuse to make any type of important decision until they stabilize, and when they are as bad as they have been this week? I pull back from anyone I care about...WAY back. My life doesn't suck but that's what my feelings are telling me today. They are telling me that:

1. You suck as a parent. You NEVER should've dragged those children 1/2 way around the world to be exposed to you.

2. You suck as a person. You don't have a CLUE as to what you want to do with your life. You're 46 years old for crying out loud! You have no talent and by the way? You're stupid too.

3. You suck as a friend. Seriously. No wonder nobody likes you.

4. You're old...and you look it. You're trying too hard you know.

5. That thing you've been fighting God about for the last 6 months? Yeah, you're going to lose that too.

6. Need I go on?

Again folks, I KNOW this isn't the truth...ok, so today I PRAY it isn't the truth. I KNOW things are going to get better. I know I can get through this...this is nothing compared to what it was just a few months ago. But right now all I can feel is the hurt and the anger and the frustration.

What helps?

1. Being self aware for one. I know what's happening, I know I'll get through it.
2. Being determined to get through it and back on the course I've plotted for New Mel.

3. Dark humor. Honestly, when I'm like this, the darker the better. I took the girls to Target this morning. As we were passing the DVD's I noticed one called, "Drag Me To Hell". The very first thought that popped into my deranged mind? "No need. I'm already there." It made me laugh people. I needed it.

4. Music? Always. I've mentioned 3 Doors Down before and how perfectly their songs fit my life at this point in time. I'll close with one that seems frighteningly appropriate to this psychotic rant.

Until next time y'all,

Changes
Matthew Darrick Roberts; Robert Todd Harrell; Christopher Le Henderson; Brad Arnold


I'm not supposed to be scared of anything, but I don't know where I am
I wish that I could move but I'm exhausted and nobody understands (how I feel)
I'm trying hard to breathe now but there's no air in my lungs
There's no one here to talk to and the pain inside is making me numb

I try to hold this under control
They can't help me 'cause no one knows

Now I'm going through changes, changes
God, I feel so frustrated lately
When I get suffocated, save me
Now I'm going through changes, changes

I'm feeling weak and weary walking through this world alone
Everything you say, every word of it, cuts me to the bone (and I believe)
I've got something to say, but now I've got no where to turn
It feels like I've been buried underneath all the weight of the world

I try to hold this under control
They can't help me 'cause no one knows

Now I'm going through changes, changes
God, I feel so frustrated lately
When I get suffocated, save me
Now I'm going through changes, changes

I'm blind and shakin'
Bound and breaking
I hope I make it through all these changes

Now I'm going through changes, changes
God, I feel so frustrated lately
When I get suffocated, save me
Now I'm falling apart, now I feel it

But I'm going through changes, changes
God, I feel so frustrated lately
And I get suffocated, I hate this
But I'm going through changes, changes

Changes can be found on my playlist at the bottom of the page.

The Whinging Hormone---Bizarre Cravings

Anybody out there ever read "The Whinging Hormone"? I didn't think so. That was the name of my Super Secret Smack Talkin' blog. I haven't written anything for it in ages. It started out as a place to vent...semi-anonymously. I didn't want to have anything negative on this blog...anything to bother or offend or otherwise tick anybody off. Well y'all, I've worked long and hard to put all of the pieces of Mel together and sometimes? You're just not going to get sweetness and light! ; ) And yes, it's still out there. If you can find it you're a much better stalker than I am and I will give you a reward befitting of your talents. And no, it doesn't count if you already know where it is.

So let's talk perimenopause. Oh stop screaming you bunch of sissies. I've been living with it for more years than I care to count now. It's the never ending pause that doesn't refresh. Have you ever seen the episode of Roseanne called "PMS I Love You"? Oh...mother of pearl...it's on youtube...go watch it. It is so absolutely freakin' PERFECT in its depiction of PMS. I laugh until I cry every single time I see it. Of course, my family cries as well...just not from laughter. It was hysterically funny when I wasn't going through it myself. Now? It's still hysterically funny.

Today I'd like to focus on the strange cravings that have been cropping up for the last few years. And by strange cravings I mean of the FOOD variety. Sheesh people...

Peter Pan peanut butter...yummmm. This isn't that unusual. I've been downing Peter Pan since I was a child. But now? I literally can't get enough of it. One of my favorite combos is spreading it on graham crackers and then sprinkling that with a rather generous handful of semi-sweet chocolate chips. Not so bizarre I admit...but dee-licious. I've also gotten into the habit of eating it by the spoonful straight out of the jar...and no...I don't double dip.

Something else worth trying? Sunchips dipped in Peter Pan. Did I happen to mention that they are the French Onion variety?

While we were on vacation last July, I managed to snag a donut for breakfast one morning. It looked a whole lot better than what it tasted...yellow cake, chocolate frosting, sprinkled with chocolate chips. It was sweet enough to set my teeth on edge. As many of you know, I've never met a donut I couldn't fix. Yep, covered it with peanut butter...ate every bit of it.

How about this one? A peanut butter sandwich dipped in...salsa. While eating lunch one day I had finished my tortilla chips but still had salsa left, so I stuck my peanut butter sandwich into the dish and well...something wondrous was born.

But wait...there's more. Friday's has these wonderfully decadent Green Bean Fries...batter dipped green beans deep fried for your artery clogging pleasure. They serve them up with a delightful Wasabi Ranch dressing. I've been known to dip whatever I may be eating in said dressing...regular fries...chicken...or even spread it on my burger.

Did I mention that for my entire life I've had the world's weakest stomach? Seriously, I couldn't even THINK about eating things like this let alone actually doing it.

Sausage gravy. Yuck. I ordered it once when I went out for breakfast with a friend of mine and her brother when we were in college. I thought it would gross them out. I was right. Fast forward to a year ago. The family was at Bob Evans. The spousal unit was spooning some sausage gravy onto his biscuits. I asked him if I could have some. I started dipping my onion rings in it...ended up finishing it. Oh! Same vacation where I spread the peanut butter on the donut? The next morning I had blueberry pancakes...with sausage gravy smeared all over them. Honestly, that sounds so good right now I'm tempted to get some for dinner...

A recent addition to the hormonal line-up? Cracked Pepper and Olive Oil Triscuits. I literally can't stop eating them. My lips, tongue, and entire mouth will be burning...my nose is running...my eyes are watering...and I'll just keep eating them. Today? The Hormonal Gods are in high control. For lunch I had...are you ready? To begin with, I had the swiss steak leftovers...you know...the bits that are left in the crock pot? Tomatoes, onions, carrots, celery, little pieces of steak...::sigh:: I spread that on the aforementioned Triscuits. I also had a cheese stick...and an apple thrown in just for good measure. After that?

A substantial portion of Smith's Peanut Butter Crunch ice cream covered in Smucker's Hot Fudge. No, I didn't heat it. That would ruin the consistency of the chocolate. I like it thick and gooey...and have been known to eat it by the spoonful allll by itself.

And now I'm having a cup of Typhoo. Yes, I realize some of you are developing an ulcer just reading this. I apologize.

I have been blessed with a high metabolism which I plan on keeping that way by daily exercise. When my body wants some strange combination of foods, I'm going to indulge. I recently had a friend tell me, "Dude...you're like...perpetually pregnant or something."

The Boy Cub, also known as my friend Andrew, shared with me this morning, that he was going to KFC. Considering Andrew lives in another time zone, and is 5-6 hours ahead of me, that made sense for him. However, as of 8:40 this morning all I can think of is KFC. Did I mention he had it for dinner as well? And won't stop talking about it? It's a lucky thing he holds Lifetime Pass 002 of 003...otherwise...grrrrr...

So what's for dinner tonight? I'm thinking leftover pizza! Hey, it's bath night too! I think I'll enjoy some peanut butter M&M's in the tub.

Later y'all,