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Baby Talk

13 Apr

While I’m assuming anybody who knows me knows that I am pregnant I haven’t really talked much about being pregnant. Partly because life (as you well know) has been a crazy disaster of insanity but also because I don’t want to bore ya’ll with the minutiae of the pregnancy. I figure if you call yourself a part of my life in even a small way you know what a big deal it was for us to discover that we were expecting. In fact words can’t describe the feeling we had (have still) when we got a positive test.

Anyway this post if going to be full of crazy talk about Baby Fred (we don’t know the sex but my 7 year old nephew Squash has decided he thinks our names are boring & that Fred is a much cooler name), how I’ve been feeling about being pregnant, the fact that my brain is turning to mush & other fun things. Indulge me as I really don’t talk in depth about this very much….mostly I’ve limited it to an occasional status update that I’m tired/feeling fat/sad/cranky/going to the doctor.

Today I had my 4th doctor’s appointment, my 2nd ultrasound & a glucose test. The doctor’s appointments have been very routine & the doctor is very pleased with how I am doing. I have excellent blood pressure & have maintained my weight to my pre-pregnancy weight. I’m astonished by this particular feat but very thankful because I’d hate for someone to mistake my pasty whiteness as some sort of exotic giant water mammal when Baby Fred makes an appearance.

I had another ultrasound (I’m guessing ‘cuz I’m nearly 35 & the size of a 3rd world hut) & Baby Fred looks good. Well what I could see…Baby Fred is as active as ever & very camera shy. In a bid to keep us guessing about looks, Baby Fred managed to hide behind both hands before impressing us by hiding behind a foot. Good to know the little one is flexible but rather frustrating as I’d like a picture. Of course I can’t complain too much….after all I’m liable to hide behind my hands too when someone attempts taking a picture of me.

We got to see the bones in the arms & legs which was cool as well as the heart beating. Heart rate is very good & strong. All the fingers & toes are in place so barring a bizarre in utero accident I fully expect to be able to count them one by one in a few weeks. I am scheduled to have another ultrasound in six weeks just to check on growth etc. They aren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary but are being cautious since I fall in the “high-risk” category.

The best thing is feeling how active Baby Fred is lately. Over the last two weeks the belly acrobatics have increased dramatically. What was an occasional flutter or bump has morphed into a serious punchkick routine. The other day I was lying on the couch reading Chaucer when suddenly my book was jolted so hard I lost my place on the page. I’m not sure if that was a judgement of my reading material or a warning that giant books rested on my belly are fair game for Baby Fred to punt about.

Baby Fred also enjoys the music that plays throughout the house. We’ve played a variety of music to see what type of reactions we get. Classical usually results in a sort of swaying, rocking motion. 80s music causes a boppy sort of Molly Ringwald/George Michael dance which is entertaining but quickly starts to feel uncomfortable. Rock (especially metal & prog rock) sends Baby Fred to new heights with all sorts of wiggling, jamming & punchkicking. Since we are going to RockFest in KC next month we’ll see what happens there.

Mostly I’m doing well being pregnant….though I am always exhausted it seems. Health-wise things are normal & though I have caught every virus/bacteria that has come along that is to be expected. At least I’m building Baby Fred’s immunity to colds, stomach flu, bronchitis etc. I got my glucose test back & I’m completely normal (well at least my blood sugar is normal) so that means one less concern.

I guess now the only thing to do is keep on with what I’ve been doing, find a few baby items (I’ve got nothing right now but a swing, a pac ‘n play & my old baby quilt) and hope that things continue to go this smoothly.

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Posted in Baby Stuff, Family

The Marriage Strain

07 Apr

When I met Hubby it was one of those things that you know at the time are going to affect the rest of your life. I was proven correct in that within a few short months. By the time we had known each other for a year we were engaged & had 6 months to plan a wedding. It was a challenge & there were times we both thought about just running away to somewhere new.

After the wedding (which mostly went pretty well) we were immediately thrust back into the harsh light of reality. Not that it wasn’t great but nothing was different other than I had to remember what my last name was. He worked long hours at various construction sites & I searched for a job (I had been laid off 6 weeks before our wedding when the e-business I worked for went belly up). After a month or so I found a job & off I went to the office every other day. I worked part-time for an eyeglass frame company. We sold wholesale to distributors & shops around the globe…and it was stressful at times. Then I’d get home & try to be a housewife. (I’m awful at housewifely duties…I detest cleaning, doing dishes etc. I am always willing to procrastinate until it MUST be done.)

After a couple years we decided to make a big change & move out of the city to northern Minnesota. That little thing threw a whole new spin into our marriage. We went from being together every day to seeing each other only on the weekends. Abe would leave early, early on Monday morning to commute to the Cities & stay there until after work on Friday. Then after a 2 hour drive home I’d finally get to see him. We spent two years with that routine.

Talk about putting strain on a marriage. (Yes I know people do that all the time. That doesn’t make it any less hard on their relationships or on mine.) I would spend all week alone, taking care of the puppies & the house. We both learned to sleep alone…something that was a challenge to overcome some nights when we were together. With my inability to lie in one spot & his talking while kicking and punching it was a free-for-all. Mostly we managed to take it in stride though I was often lonely. Finally we reached the point where the stars aligned & Abe found a job near our home.

Sometimes I wonder how much strain a marriage can take though. After getting a really decent job near our home, I also got a part-time job & things seemed to be heading toward something good. Surprise!! but not so much. Instead after a year Abe was suddenly without a job & no prospects on the horizon. Job opportunities got more & more scarce. He went to work with his dad on their own company while I continued in my office job. We made ends meet for the most part, then I got sick. I pushed on for over a year after my first vicious gallbladder attack.

Then this past August I ended up hospitalized for a week. I had dozens of tests & after 5 days was sent home with some meds for pain. At the same time we were making the decision to move again…this time to a different state. As we began working on that plan I struggled to deal with a work environment that was more than difficult. The stress was palpable everywhere I went. Abe did what he could to help me & encourage me to recover from being so ill.

Then in the midst of finding a place to live, jobs and all we got what is the most amazing, joyful news–we were pregnant. More stress piled on as we processed the idea of becoming parents. Then we moved, I continued to fight different illnesses, Abe interviewed for different jobs & finally found one.

There’s so much strain & stress that we’ve gone through the last few years. Now it seems like there’s more piling up every day. He works long hard hours building houses & I’m dealing with a challenging pregnancy. On top of that I’m battling depression which sucks my ambition & joy right up. It’s all I can do to get out of bed many days. Abe struggles to understand what I’m going through and what his role as “Dad” will be.

I’m not saying that we’re breaking up or that things are awful. Rather there’s this strain…a stretching of our bond that doesn’t seem to have an end. We are more irritable toward each other; less forgiving that the dishwasher isn’t empty or there’s muddy footprints on the floor. Life has inundated us with a lot of the ick & the good is drowning. We push back but are getting tired of it. The strain is starting to tell & while it is just a phase it is a phase that can’t end quickly enough.

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Posted in Family, I AM, The Life We Lead, What's in my Head

Cowboy Day & Flapjacks

03 Dec

We are staying at my parents’ house for the rest of the week/weekend as we attempt to find housing for the big move which is coming up fast. So far we’ve had lots of great prospects but unfortunately there seems to be something odd or not workable each time we get close….but that’s a whole other “Dr. Phil”.

Last night while making pancakes for supper (with fresh blueberries….. *drools*) we needed more butter. Mom got some out & put it in the microwave to soften it. She placed it next to me as I dropped 2 piping hot pancakes onto my plate (everybody else had already had their first round). I grabbed the knife & proceeded to find that the butter was NOT soft…. ”Well it’s not frozen any more”, Mom retorted to my observation. ”You know how I feel about butter on my pancakes.” With the long suffering sigh only a mother possesses, “Yes I know….” Growing up Mom always made the best pancakes (she still does) and would always spread just the right amount of butter on each one, letting it melt into the golden brown before adding the syrup. They were always light & fluffy, melting sweetly on your tongue. It was the best thing in the world to wake up to the smell of the griddle heating for pancakes. Sometimes we’d get pancakes with faces or ones that looked like Mickey Mouse.

Here’s the story of me & my pancakes….

When I was in kindergarten we had Cowboy Day. Everybody dressed up like a cowboy or cowgirl & we had flapjacks. I was so excited for Cowboy Day…Mom even made me a special outfit to wear with my boots (I think I even took a six shooter cap gun…..my how times have changed. Nowadays a kid taking a cap gun to school would surely be arrested & placed on a terrorist watch list) & of course I had a red handkerchief too. It was all fun & games til it came time to eat. One of the mothers who was helping gave me my flapjacks….with a big blob of butter in the center (all cold & unmelty) and promptly doused it in an overly large amount of cold syrup. I was aghast! Never had I witnessed such an atrocity….so I did what any 6 year old would do…pitched the mother of all hissy fits. I was adamant that I would not eat a lukewarm flapjack with a cold butter blob & enough syrup in which to bathe. There was no admonition, no threat, no “There are starving kids in Africa” speech that would move me….I wasn’t going to eat that flapjack.

I don’t remember what happened after that…it’s possible that I just went without & if so I would have done it with a sense of deep satisfaction at getting my way. I do know that upon my return home that day Mom asked how my day had gone. Bursting into tears I recounted my tale of woe & flapjacks improperly prepared. No doubt Mom comforted me & reassured me that it was indeed okay to not eat the flapjacks. I am equally sure that I was told to be more polite about not wanting to eat something.

To this day I have a difficult time ordering pancakes in a restaurant because often times they come in a haphazard pile (pancakes should be neatly stacked) with a giant blob of butter in the center. At least they provide me the option of adding the syrup on my own.

1 Comment

Posted in For the Love of Food, I should be in therapy, Memories

Honest Scrap Award

10 Nov

For the love of Aunt Carrie’s corset I got my first ever blog award yesterday. My awesome friend Mary over at FitThisGirl was more than kind to award me one of her coveted 10. ”Becci!! I am nominating you for the Honest Scrap award!! I love your blog honest and raw humor, it is refreshing!”, says the cool girl with the rocking blog. Well I’m flattered & a little taken aback to be thus noticed. Anyway, I am here fulfilling my part of the bargain with a post of my own.

honestscrap1

The Rules

? “The Honest Scrap Award” must be shared!

? The recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves.

? The recipient has to pass this prestigious award along to 10 more bloggers.

? Those 10 bloggers need to be notified they have received this award.

? Those 10 bloggers should link back to the blog from where they received their award.

1. I am afraid of heights! I mean terrified, petrified, completely phobic about heights yet I still want to walk to the edge of the cliff & look down. I guess I’m trying to face my fear but it never seems to help…instead I’m just paralyzed at the edge of a cliff which seems like a bad thing….

2. I am also terrified of drowning…needless to say while I love the architecture of bridges crossing them can be my own personal Waterloo. The Aerial Lift Bridge in Duluth, MN is a classic example…I never get tired of looking at or photographing it. Crossing it is just plain out of the question….

Aerial Lift Bridge

walking under the Aerial Lift Bridge

3. I have 2 tattoos. One on each shoulder. My first tattoo is a head shot of Betty Boop & I’ve had it for something close to 12 years. My second tattoo is a grouping of 4 flowers…each represents a grandparent that Hubby & I have lost. I am anxious to get a 3rd tattoo which will be a representation of my life with Abe. If I’m lucky I would also like a 4th tattoo designed by Abe…I have to be patient & wait though as Abe has some ink of his own he’d like to have added on.

Betty Boop tattoo

flower tattoo

4. I am an incurable insomniac. Even though right now I’m so tired I’m sliding out of my skin I’m typing away on my laptop. It’s very hard for me to turn my brain off at the end of the day…even lying in bed trying to clear my mind often ends up having the opposite result. This will lead to me wide awake in the dark listening to Abe softly snore & wondering if I should have worn different shoes with a particular outfit when I was 14.

5. I am terrible at keeping my own secrets. Yours I will take to the grave (maybe I’ll tell Abe but you can trust him…he talks a lot less than I do) but mine I blurt out all the time. I want you to know what I’m getting you for your birthday/anniversary/Christmas etc so that you can be excited too.

6. I am slightly envious (ok, maybe I’m really envious but in a totally good way) of anybody who is an artist. I wish that I had the talent to paint, draw or sculpt. Unfortunately I can’t even draw a decent stick figure so I’m out of luck. I do however love the feeling of movement & swirl of emotion I get when looking at someone else’s creation. It’s a truly intimate thing to share what comes out on canvas or marble (or any other media) with an audience & I applaud those who do it.

7. Kids….I adore kids. There are few things I won’t do to earn a smile & laughter from a child. Nothing in this world is more fleeting & pure than the sound of a child or baby bubbling over with joy. It melts my heart every time.

8. Someday I want to own the following: a motorcycle, a horse, a sailboat & a late model Chevy Corvair convertible. Preferably all at the same time…yes I realize that it’s impractical because where exactly can one own a horse & sailboat and but them both to use? I have no idea but in my land of make-believe it’s not only possible but mandatory.

9. I knew (but wouldn’t admit) the first time I saw Abe that I would marry him. He picked me up at my apartment, walked me to his car & opened my door, holding it until I was in & then closing it for me. I leaned across to unlock his door & as I did that I knew I wanted to do it for the rest of my life. How a nice quiet guy like him ever decided to put up with a crazy, insecure girl like me I will never know.

10. Books…what can I say? First off I guess I should mention that some people (looking pointedly at Abe) think I read fast. I don’t know why anybody would come to that conclusion…just because I can read & retain major portions of books of 500+ pages in a 24 hour period does not mean that I read fast. Seriously, didn’t all of you read the 7th Harry Potter in 18 hours? Second I should mention that since I have been a rabid, ravenous, rapacious reader since the age of 3. I vividly remember checking out the complete works of Shakespeare at age 10. Both the librarian & teacher looked at me as if I were mental…yet I devoured it–enraptured. I can read a book with a singular focus…blocking out all things around me (including natural disasters, fire drills & screaming in my ear).

4 Comments

Posted in I AM, I should be in therapy, Musings, My Comptuer & Me, What's in my Head

Familiarity Breeds….Fear of the Unknown

21 Oct

I don’t know what I’m doing…which for me is a huge problem. I always want to know where I’m headed. I like to have a plan of action, a course to follow, a map to read. I don’t mind taking detours if I’m not just wandering aimlessly. It’s the perfectionist (no that doesn’t apply to my housekeeping…I’m a slob when it comes to that, don’t judge me or I’ll point out your spelling & grammar mistakes) in me; the control freak who needs to know what’s coming. I dislike, no make that loathe, change. There’s so much going on right now & I’m a mess…I’m talking total disaster! It’s “call for federal aid, Hurricane (insert name here) has hit” time. It’s “She can’t take no more Cap’n, she’s starting to break” type stuff….

It’s been nearly 22 months since Abe was last employed. He’s done odd jobs here & there, taken every dollar of unemployment available, tried to make a go of Black Ash & More, applied for every job between here & Bedlam…problem is there just aren’t jobs. The few that are out there (and it’s VERY few) mostly don’t even make it feasible for him to drive to work ‘cuz the pay is so low & the number of miles too great. Of course I can already hear the “you should move” comments. If only it were just that simple…

We don’t have the finances to move…without going into that whole matter let’s just say that coming up with 2+ months rent isn’t going to happen. We’ve cleaned out the retirement accounts ages ago, our savings is gone…our credit….well we won’t go there either. Anything positive we had going came to a screeching halt 2 years ago & we’re sinking now. Not to mention the logistics….

Of course there are benefits…Abe can get a good job again. It’ll mean a lot to him & I will do anything to support him. Moving to the location we are considering would put us closer to his brother in Missouri & a lot closer to my family all of whom I do miss. Yet we’ll be further from his dad, his brother & wife and their boys up here. We won’t be that stone’s throw from the North Shore & all the places we’ve grown to love. The places that refresh my spirit & inspire my soul…the places I’m proud to know & to which I want to play travel guide for visiting friends. Will I ever visit again & feel the wonder that sinks deep into the core of me? I don’t know…right now everything is clouded. I’m not good with change…even when I want to make it. Right now I don’t want to make a change even though my logic tells me that it is what I must do.

I’m afraid….afraid that I’m never going to feel like me, that the people I care for & consider to be my close friends will decide that I’m too much work (I know, I know…my real friends won’t do that…doesn’t make the fear any less real), I’m afraid of losing myself.

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Posted in I should be in therapy, Musings, What's in my Head

Self-Cleaning Oven

18 Oct

Last weekend when I had my head in the oven (no it was not a Sylvia Plath moment) at my brother-in-law’s house I was struck with the overwhelming memory of me as a very young girl in another kitchen.

I have such vivid memories of the first house I really lived in (the first house I lived in was for such little time I don’t even count it) that it still seems like “home” to me although I haven’t lived there in over 20 years. I remember the hot pink shag carpet in my bedroom, the Raggedy Ann & Raggedy Andy lamp (which I still have somewhere), the way we could race from room to room in a big circle, Dad’s brown recliner, the gold couch & the pea soup green carpet.

We had blonde wood cabinets with large copper-looking knobs. When I was very little I would sit on the top shelf of one of the lower cupboards and play in there. I’d pull all the pots & pans out, banging away like a rock n roll drummer. I also liked to have Mom shut the doors & just curl up inside. Another thing I remember very well is the oven. We had a built in oven in that house…a sort of reddish-brown color that sat on the far side of the kitchen from where you normally entered, right next to the doorway for the back living room.

Since Mom always cooked & baked a lot it was inevitable that the oven would need to be cleaned. One day in particular I was watching Mom clean the oven…since it was not self-cleaning she was using an oven-cleaning spray & a lot of scrubbing. I was underfoot observing all the scrubbing & gross black gunk being removed…not being a fan of icky things I voiced how much I disliked the process.

“Mom, that’s gross”, I said in my little voice, “when I grow up & have an oven of my own you’re going to have to come visit & clean my oven for me.”

Sadly Mom doesn’t come clean my oven but luckily I can turn it on & let it self-clean….

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Posted in I AM, Memories

This House Used to be a Home

14 Oct

As you may know (or not in which case you will soon learn) I have spent the long weekend in Missouri helping my brother-in-law move & clean up the old house. It has been a most bittersweet time as the circumstances for moving are not happy but we always have a good time hanging out. There’s plenty of banter & trash talk but it’s all in fun. As we emptied the house & scrubbed everything it became less of a “home” and more of a “house”. To me home is a sense of place, a building that holds part of me. It shares my identity & personality. A house is just a building, I don’t necessarily feel comfortable in a house…usually I feel stiff like I can’t relax. In my home, my bones become fluid when I sink into my chair or sofa. In a house I’m sitting on the very edge of the seat, anxious about what comes next. As we watched the U-haul fill my brother-in-law’s home became an empty shell of a house, echoing with memories both sweet & poignant.

Packing up & moving has been a huge part of my life. I’ve moved more times than I care to count (15 at least). My first move was so soon after I was born I have no memory of it. We moved into a big white farm house with red trim & a screen door that banged closed when we went chasing in & out. It was one of my favorite places that I’ve ever lived. Maybe because it was my first home…I explored & haunted all the corners of that farm. There were patches of lilies of the valley & violets in the backyard by the grove & the old wooden swing. Moving from that farm made me very sad. I remember crying as we drove away for the last time. I can still remember the telephone number for that house.

From that house we moved back to the town where my parents were raised. We lived in a small house, filling it to the seams & yet we were happy there. Then we moved to a farm where Dad could milk the cows in a big white barn with the most amazing hayloft. We had two mobile homes attached with a breezeway. This meant I got my own room which was a huge deal. I remember hiding in the hayloft with a book & snuggling the baby kitties. I’d take a book (or 3) & find a quiet corner where I could stretch out & read. Sometimes it would be raining & I’d pause in the reading to just lie there & look out at the farm through the crisp clean smell of rain on summer grass.

After awhile we moved into another big farm house…this one had a mile long driveway (no kids this is not an exaggeration) that we had to walk (more often we ran) to catch the school bus. There were days where this wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experience…then there were the subzero winter days where the wind screamed across the prairie. Our bus driver was often very nice & would drive up halfway so that we could get out in the windbreak of the grove. Sometimes we’d just walk in the deep ditches for protection…we’d race & slide on the ice. We lived there until a tornado changed everything & we moved again…

The last move I made with my whole family we moved into the house my parent’s now occupy. It feels like home in many ways although I didn’t live there very long. We moved in the October of my senior year of high school. After that all my moving was from college dorm to places sundry. Until we had our first place together, I didn’t feel like I was “home” for a long time…my apartment with Abe quickly became a home. It didn’t feel like I was waiting to pack up my stuff & move again. We did eventually move…to a little house near where we currently live. That house was just a house…we never felt “lived in” there. This current place is somewhere in the middle…it has been “home” for a few years now but that feeling is leaving me. I’m curious to see where/when I start the hunt.

So what about you? Where have you lived that was truly home? Please share some stories in the comments…I would love to know what makes your place of abode your home.

1 Comment

Posted in Memories, The Life We Lead, What's in my Head

Request Denied x4

02 Oct

I was going to post something I started last night but my day has just hit the wall & is splattered like a gruesome deer vs car accident. Because I’m too depressed to even function well today I’m going to rant about something for a bit & will make it up to all you fine readers by posting the other stuff later. I promise it’s good & fun.

So after being in the hospital in August I filled out a giant amount of paperwork to try to get approved for MinnesotaCare (the health insurance through the state…I’d pay a much smaller premium etc than what I’d pay if I had insurance through my job) so that my hospital stay would be covered.

Today I got not 1 but 4 rejection letters (total I have received more than 6) saying that I do not qualify to receive help from the program. I won’t even go into how horrible I feel getting 4 rejection letters….I didn’t get turned down by that many boys in all of my single life (of course I didn’t date any boys before my adorable husband but that’s a different matter).

What pisses me off to no end is that I don’t meet the income requirements for the program. I, in fact, make too much money. That’s right….me, a lowly receptionist who makes $9.50/hour at a 32 hour a week job & the sole breadwinner in the family right now, I make too much money. After the 401k deductions, the federal taxes, state taxes & social security I take home less than $1200 a month. Out of that amount I must pay rent, insurance, utilities & food. If I’m lucky I can also afford fuel for my Jeep. I was offered health insurance through my job…if I took that option by the time my portion of the premium was paid I would take home less than $100/month. I looked at getting health insurance on my own once upon a time when Abe was employed at a great job….I was denied that for reasons I won’t go into here.

While the whole country is bitching & moaning about everything from Roman Polanski to the Olympics to who knows what else and fighting each other rather than saying, “We have to do something to fix healthcare so let’s put aside who’s right & who’s left and do the job we were hired to do”….I’m staring at a pile of medical bills, the upcoming rent & the stack of rejection letters (including Abe’s job hunt rejections). Explain to me why a 15 minute consultation (without the actual exam) with a gynecologist costs $245! All she did was sit on my bed & tell me there was nothing wrong with me. I’m sorry but that’s damn ridiculous!!!!

Insurance companies take tons of blame for the cost of healthcare….and I’m not saying that they are without culpability here. I do think that if hospitals weren’t “for-profit” businesses things would certainly be better. When healthcare facilities became focused on turning a profit, pleasing shareholders & stopped focusing on treating the illnesses (not the symptoms) of the population of this country that’s when it all went in the toilet. I’m fed up & angry…..I don’t have the solution but someone out there must. I’d like to know what it is. Oh & if you are thinking about coming here & telling me I should get a higher paying job, have Hubby get a job dealing meth & “do whatever it takes” to afford health care then I’m telling you right now where you can put that comment. I work hard & Hubby works harder trying to make money….too bad with our current system no amount will ever be enough.

2 Comments

Posted in Patently Ridiculous, What's in my Head

Swinging Pigs

30 Sep

5 year old me was always outside weather permitting. I had not yet discovered “chapter” books so although I was an accomplished reader books didn’t own me the way they would during my teen years (ok, they still own me). Being a farm girl there were 6.475 billion things to do on any given day. This particular adventure deals with a fine early summer day in 1980. I am, of course, the heroine of this little tale with cameo appearances by my sister Lissy, brother TJ & Mom.

I should also note that I loved to help out & follow Dad around. Mom’s jobs were things like dusting & taking care of a baby. Dad had animals, trucks & other machines…plus there was always a chance for a trip to town or a neighbor’s farm. Being the social butterfly I am (and caffeine addict…farmers ALWAYS have coffee) Dad was who I would choose when the opportunity presented itself.

We had pigs at the time & there are few animals more cute than the soft pink & curly tail of a piglet. I was in love with them & attempted to catch one to play with on several occasions. The trouble was there were a lot of baby pigs & they would get all would up by my chasing them. This led to squealing…from them too & I hated that noise. Being a precocious problem-solver I thought about the best way to catch a pig (hmmm…too bad Cary Grant isn’t around for more movie roles…) & decided to grill Dad about it. After using all the persuasiveness innate & willingly wielded; Dad relented & one day gave me a piglet catching lesson. Dad showed me how to stand firm & then he shoo’ed the piglets my way. He showed me how to reach down & grab them by their back legs & hold the squiggly little suckers upside down. If done properly this keeps the piglet from sounding the “a crazy 5 yr old just snatched me” alarm. We practiced a few times & I proclaimed myself proficient.

A couple days later I was playing outside when I decided that catching a piglet was the order of business that needed attending. Needing a piglet catcher I enlisted the aid of my 3 yr old sister Lissy. We walked to the hog house area which was in the back par of our yard. I then proceeded to give Lissy the very same instructions I had received. I planted her in the doorway & then chased 20-30 baby pigs at her. Needless to say she was scared to death & started to cry and scream. Frustrated but undaunted I managed to catch a piglet & headed outside with the struggling piglet firmly clasped about the middle. Of course the pig was squealing, Lissy was still crying & I was frustrated at the whole thing. Mom, hearing the commotion while changing TJ’s diaper leaned to the window, “Becci, what are you doing with that pig?” The exasperation in her voice still rings clearly through the years…. I stopped, still with a firm grip on the pig & in the most matter-of-fact way explained, “Well, I want to swing but I want someone to swing with so I am taking the pig along. I’m going to teach it to swing too.” And with a nod at Mom & the thought of what a silly question that was I continued over to my swing set.

The swing set had a teeter-totter, 2 individual swings (excellent for lying on your stomach & pretending you could fly) & a two seater swing. I hauled that pig into the two seater & began to push back & forth…it didn’t last long & I let the piglet go running back to the safety of the pen. I learned something very important that day….pigs simply don’t like to swing.

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Posted in I AM, Memories

To Be or Not To Be…

29 Sep

Again I take pen in hand (figuratively duh) and prepare to do battle with all that has overwhelmed me lately. I am so confused, upset, hurt, scared, depressed & faithless right now. I hurt so deep inside that it has become physical pain…not the gallbladder pain that I deal with too but a squeezing in my ribs & chest. I feel like I’m being crushed from the inside. Every morning I dread the alarm…I’m so unhappy at my job & I have no clue how to change it any more. I’ve resigned myself to trying to push through & scolding myself for not just sucking it up, doing what I need to do & shutting up about being unhappy.

I have lost what hope I used to have…there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel except the oncoming train. Even the few moments of peace I have found seem to fade too quickly & I can’t even slip into the bubble of the memory to recapture that feeling.

This is SO hard for me to write…I am so depressed! I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve been sad, blue & under the weather….I’ve been cranky, pre-menstrual & just plain in a foul mood. This is something so different. I feel hollow, empty & alone. I sit next to the man I love & feel like he can never hold me tight enough. I do my best to smile & be pleasant while inside I feel like crumbling. I’ve always been the strong one, the leader, the oldest, the one in charge. I was born to that role & assumed it from a young age. Now I don’t know where to turn…some would say turn to God, to the church; others would say turn to friends & family; still others would have totally different advice. The truth is I feel like God has better things to do than listen to me complain because I feel bad about myself. The church hasn’t really had much to offer me other than a bunch of people who don’t seem to understand why I don’t just smile & be thankful. I am thankful in many ways for many things. How I feel isn’t about that. If I could just tell myself not to feel bad believe me when I say it would be done in a heartbeat. This depression (I have a hard time just saying that word) isn’t about being ungrateful or not knowing that I am blessed with a great many things. It’s about feeling isolated because no matter how much I want to feel good I simply don’t.

My family(the whole great big crazy lot of them) & friends (the few I have) are wonderful. I love them very much! How do I tell them that every day is a struggle for me? It’s not that I don’t want every day that has been granted to me…as hard as it has been to get up every day not once have I thought about anything more serious than just staying in bed all month. It’s so hard because I want to see my siblings, my nephews & niece…they are so precious. I love the kids…their innocent smiles & silly antics. Being able to play with them, toss them in the air & hold them close for hugs are delightful times. Yet everybody has their own lives. Just because I can barely find the will to face each day out of my room doesn’t mean I need to burden them with worry over me. In fact I’ve worked my hardest to avoid showing how much hurt I feel right now. It doesn’t always work because it leaks out of me like a punctured jellyfish washed ashore after a storm. I know my family (and friends) can tell I’m not myself. The fun, laughing, smiling girl who is always ready to take on life isn’t here. Call back another time…leave a message at the beep. I have shut myself off in many ways because it hurts me even more to know that Mom is worried about me & that my siblings don’t know what to say. It hurts me that when Abe wants to comfort me instead I feel worse because I’m not able to help him & encourage him. He has dealt with so much–losing his job, working so hard to make a go of the business (disaster that plan is since the economy is completely in the toilet…no it isn’t getting better, trust me), searching every day for a job that will actually allow him to bring home a paycheck rather than just put it all into fuel to get to the job. Then to top it off there’s me: sad, uncertain & sick to boot. Abe works so hard to keep things going so that I don’t worry (ha, right me not worry) & so that I can feel safe and secure when I come home. Knowing he doesn’t understand (I don’t understand…how could he) makes me so sad because he gets me better than anybody else. He puts up with my silly moods, the crazy stories I make up from my odd sense of humor and my weird obsessions/compulsions that can make buying a snack size bag of M & Ms an adventure. Abe has always helped bring balance to me….I hate that he feels there is more he could do. And my friends, well what can I say….the friends that I thought were around aren’t. Boy do I ever feel stupid for falling for that yet again! I know it isn’t easy to be around someone who is constantly struggling…I’ve been on the other side many different times. It is hard to be supportive when someone is depressed. So I rely on my “invisible” friends or rather my wonderful community of crazy, offbeat, intelligent, witty & downright talented Twitter friends. (I know a lot of you may not “get” Twitter…all I have to say is it has to be experienced. There is truly no way to explain Twitter!) I admire so many of them for their fearless take on life–no matter where they are coming from–and even when they are feeling the fear, doubt and everything else the rest of the human race does it makes me feel like I’m not as alone as I sometimes think. Of course right now I feel more alone that ever. I don’t know how to tell some of these friends what I’m truly going through.

So why don’t I want to tell people I consider to be dear friends how I feel? One reason is I don’t want to be a bother. Yes we are dear close friends but they (like me) have their own lives. Jobs, houses, cars, wives, husbands, children, parents, committees etc. They all have stuff in “meat space” (a geek term for in real life or IRL for those of you uninitiated) that demands time & attention. I’m just a girl from Minnesota who is falling apart at the seams–but when it all comes down to the bare facts does that really matter to anybody but me? I want to matter…I want to believe that if our roles were reversed I’d step up & say, “I’m worried about you. My life is crazy & there are 42 other things I should be doing right now but first I need to know that you are okay.” Maybe I would…after all I am the strong shoulder, the willing ear (or I was in another time in my life). How do I say that I need those things now. Yes I can chitchat about weather, sports, politics & other random topics from the zeitgeist. I can joke (easier to fake somewhat when you don’t have to look at anybody) although the more depressed I’ve gotten the more sharp & snide my jokes have become. Meanwhile a lot of times I’m sitting in my chair at home (or like now I’m in bed with the laptop surrounded by a sleeping spouse & 3 dogs) and in between the banter I’m working my way through a box of tissues.

Another reason I don’t want to say anything is I have had a terribly hard time admitting to myself that this isn’t just “the blues”. Whatever is going on is much bigger & scarier to me than feeling a bit sad because it is gray & rainy. I am so scared…I feel like I’m losing my mind, losing myself & who I want to be. This spring I started several positive steps in my life. I set goals to write, to get into a better shape & to really enjoy life. Then summer hit me like ….well like something very hard & angry. I lost my focus on exercise (I was doing great, had increased my stamina etc.), my writing I tried to maintain & as cold day after cold day slipped by my carpe diem attitude went with it. I kept thinking that I’d feel better in a few days. Then August rolled around & I ended up in the hospital. After finding that there is apparently nothing “really” wrong with me I was sent home with a few bottles of pills. One of those bottles contained a neat little drug called nortriptyline. This drug was originally approved for use as a heavy-duty anti-depressant. Wow did that suck!! Suddenly I’m taking this drug (which also works fantastic as an anti-spasmodic/IBS controller) & if I wasn’t already sliding into depression this flung me over like Bill Murray driving off that cliff with Punxsutawney Phil in “Ground Hog Day”. Suddenly I was having nightmares like nothing I’ve ever had before (and I’ve had some doozys….I even can recall in perfect detail to this day my recurring one from childhood). There were also some crazy mood swings….I’d be laughing & then suddenly crying. It was exhausting. Now I’m off the drugs…I have no plans on starting up with them again!

So this post has taken me hours–over a full day has passed since I started writing. It has been a happy/sad day. I’m feeling a bit better for having decided to keep letting all this out. (Actually I’ve had several people give me great encouragement over the past 24 hours….that coupled with what seems to be an almost overwhelming need to write — I got a lot more post brewing in the brain box right now.) I just want…nay, NEED to write so I’m going to keep up as best I can. I realize there will be days where I won’t & that’s okay too. I can’t keep holding all this (whatever “this” is) inside me….

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Posted in I should be in therapy, Musings, The Life We Lead, What's in my Head

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