Archive for the ‘humor’ Category

Oh it’s that time.  the Holiday Hoedowns.  Secret Santa Elephant Tree Recycle Gala.   The” WHEN DID I SIGN UP TO DO THIS?”  The, “Should I even try to add WHOLE wheat flour to the Christmas baking again so I can be rejected by my family and end up sobbing with a bag of cookies in the corner?” The “WHY AM I BAKING?  because the kitchen looks like an episode of the ‘Blindfolded Chef searches for a Bachelor who can cook”

Due to my ADHD-OCD  tinged with the incessant need to plan, pre-plan , over-plan, cancel plans -  juxtaposed with my spontaneous and carefree nature,   all recorded in hand- written calendarS, glitter adorned journals, smart-phone-gratitude -app-journals, sticky-note-hoarding-piles and this gem:

What was that phrase someone EMBLAZONED ON A GIANT PILLOW FOR ME  “Keep it…Keep it…oh darn, what was it                                               (simple.)

November 20th  I volunteered to help out with a science experiment at my son’s school. I  failed all lab experiments in College so I should be a beneficial asset. .. Maybe driving around listening to Journey and Rob Base in my friend’s car with the really LOUD speaker system, during lab, wasn’t the best use of my collegiate time.

November 21st  the 56790th orthodontist appointment this month.  My son’s expander fell out of his mouth. He denies any starburst consumption as the cause.  (‘Da Dun’ SVU music playing..)

November 22nd Nutcracker practice.  I ignored all emails from Dance Director because I assumed  vicariously living through my children through  Hip Hop Dance Class would translate into non-Nutcracker performances because  If it were my Dance Studio, I would do the whole Run DMC Christmas in Hollis Queens Dance Recital, yet maybe why I do not own a Dance Studio. #bizloandenied. Seriously, I am excited for them to be apart of The Nutcracker, sometimes the facetious nature of pointing out my idiosyncrasies, sounds way too sarcastic and flip.

November 23rd, same thing as above but I also have written “Truck $4382648732649873687264  payment”,hmmm, what could that mean?

Week November 24, my husband informed me we would be leaving for his Mee Maw and Pee Paws EARLY this vacation week because ‘I needs to get to cookin’.’    No I’m just kidding, he did not say this 1950s , stereotypically Southern phrase.  He did say we were leaving early, I missed the rest of what he said because the previews for ‘Mocking-JAY-part-1-of-56-HungerGames-omg-jlaw-is-literally-so00000amazing‘  was on the television.

  • Additionally, TAKE beautiful candid pictures next to cool barns and pastures, in hipster outfits with our Soap Opera messy-gelled- straight-curly with feathery wisps – gently cascading in the wind and ostensibly, in front of our face, but not -  “OMG-PLEASE-GET-YOUR-HAIR-OUT-OF-YOUR-FACE-FOR-THE-PICTURE!!!” — for Christmas cards.  Or see what the Kardashians cooked up this year and try to imitate that Goth masterpiece.   I love how my computer tries to spell check Kardashian to Guardianship.

December 3rd some kind of appointment for some child in my house AND I signed up to be a Secret Santa helper on the same day on purpose for some reason.  I think I actually wrote “intentional” on my calendar.

December 4th, a bunch of automatic payments are coming out of our account because it’s all red and highlighty on my calendar, wait I thought all payments were frozen to boost Holidays sales because that is the primary purpose of the season, cash-money.

December 5th  USA?  what does that mean? or USAA? ok, o think we owe them something monthly, maybe that thing that protects us from being sued if we drive horrendously in parking lots.

December 6th  Dress rehearsal for the Nutcracker AND My daughters chorus concert…rest Assured, I have emailed all affected Directors and  thoroughly explained my scheduling plight in grave detail, because essentially, all of these concerts and recitals are ABOUT ME and ONLY ME and collaterally pertains to the scheduling of my family.

December 7th. The NutCracker.  It’s gonna be Crunk.

December 8th “alkajdfp987349823″ I can’t read my handwriting. I think it’s someone’s birthday. Oh Snap, my sisters birthday is the 6th. and the 16th.  and the 12 and maybe the 8th.  I have 3 sisters, so . carry the 1 and…. Usually I just send them their birthday cards when I send the Christmas cards which are all late. It’s the thought that counts.

December 11th.  Help a teacher out.  Bring in Kale/Quinoa/gluten–dye-soy-dairy-air free Holiday PinTree-cakes drizzled with wheat grass infused compote.

December 13th an appointment on a Saturday?  WHO IS THE KEEPER OF THIS CALENDAR?

December 14th.  34500000 sticky notes on the fridge on how I really need to get shopping and wrapping. wrapped up.

I also bookmarked some article in Huffington Post titled “The disease of being over scheduled?”  Maybe I will read that in between unknown doctors appointment and Secret Santa on December 3rd.   Happy Holidays  (Which, as a phrase, is a hot-trending-topic right now on Social Media, get the popcorn out…..  )

 

This blog was spurred by her most recent Facebook post (www.facebook.com/BabySideburns)* AND, Austin Kleon did write a book called Steal Like an Artist and I’m following all his rules. I am not going to insert her Facebook post of the day because  I do not know how to footnote in the world of social media.  YES! apparently I should have learned “how to footnote” in English class , but I only know it’s application towards stapled-paper-report-cover-creations  from a library, surrounded by 50,0000 books while drinking 50,000 diet cokes, which ironically, I learned from Facebook , is going to ‘take-us-all-out’ in a giant Diet-Coke-GMO-Corn-Tsunami.

In a nutshell, Baby Sideburns’ post requested her followers to post something “imperfect” from their day or life because she was having a bad day and all she was seeing on Facebook was “perfect” images of perfection, or something to that effect. On a  side note,  I followed her page on advice from a cousin, AND because my daughter had really long dark hairs coming out of the top of her ears; therefore, I could relate to the title.  I did finally approach the topic with my  Pediatrician, at six months of age, in the form of a vacuous question; “Should I be looking into some type of laser- hair-removal-plan with our insurance company?”  I think she laughed, or sighed, or gave a haughty glance towards my superficial concern.  In lieu of Baby Sideburns request, I am going to  list ten reasons why my life is imperfectly perfect  (again, I’m stealing that phrase (per Austin Kleon) from John Legend’s song All of Me where he refers to his SUPERMODEL GIRLFRIEND’S  PERFECT IMPERFECTIONS.  IS THAT EVEN A THING? IS IT EVEN FAIR THAT SHE GETS TO OWN THAT DESCRIPTION EITHER???

Well Baby SideBurns, John Legend, his SuperModel wife, and President Obama, (because he seems to be included in everything these days):

1)  I am having a break-out of my cystic Adult Acne again, which is due to my hormonal imbalance.  I am not growing. My voice isn’t changing.   There is really no need for any of my hormones to be “activated” to spur any type of “growth”, so  what I am wondering is:” WTF?”      Cellulite , I kind of get. It’s because I eat bread and I love holey cheese.  I’ll own that one.  Side Note- Baby Sideburns, I literally had to google the word “holey” to make sure I was using this a a word that showed something that had holes in it, versus something that the Pope would ordain as “Holy.”

2) My fancy SUV, makes a “whirring sound” when I roll down the windows, so I roll up the windows, hoping that it will just “go away”, and then I have to turn on the AC, which makes my car stall.  Yes, I am kind of just hoping this will all “stop” but I am of course, a responsible adult ,I am an elite, triple-double-triple-single-platinum-gold-bronzed AAA member and check the weather forecast to ensure that climate change has not ruined October and will not need my AC in the coming months. (AC =air conditioning for those of you who live in a cool climate).

3) As much as I remind my children to “brush their teeth”, I am not on top of this process at all, and quite frankly, I almost positive they  are “faking it” because kids do not err on the side of subtly.

4) I am so over my kid’s eating habits.  I do the best I can but I’m slowly relinquishing this insane need to become unglued when they refuse to eat my healthy options. I’m choosing to ignore “The sky is falling” posts about food and nutrition on Facebook, because it makes me break out into hives (yes, this has happened) and I have almost had full blown panic attacks in the grocery store where I am simply paralyzed by choosing the wrong food that will cause some unfortunate demise. It’s like the dude from that Indiana Jones movie is standing over me saying “YOU CHOSE POOOORRRRRRRRRRRRLYYYYYYYYY”,  in an English accent.

5) Sometimes, I chose to read Celebrity Gossip during my “daily -zen -meditation time” in the morning. Yes, it does help me tremendously to know that Kayne is still mad about pretty much everything and anything, and yes I do listen to some of his music because the dude “dropz mad-sic beats, yo.”

6) If Breaking Bad is on the television, I become paralyzed by the TV- as in- Poltergeist  Drew Barrymore sucked in to the fuzzy white lights. I have dropped entire loads of laundry, in the middle of the floor, and just sat there, in a pile of mismatched socks,  because my multitasking skills are NO match for this genius drama-series.   Vince Gilligan is able to turn everyday nuances like eating Raisin Bran, smoking cigarettes, or the inordinate amount of purple decoration Marie has in her Southwestern home,   into a roller coaster ride of emotions and “Honey!! can you just put this on Netflix so I can skip all the commercials??”

7) Sometimes, I do not want my son’s Stand By Me group of friends over in the afternoon, because I do not want to wear any type of brassiere and I desperately need to be wearing the oldest, rattiest pair of PJ bottoms known to mankind.  They are sweet  kids, but momma needs her downtime by cocktail time, and I do not even drink cocktails.

8) I drink a lot of coffee in the morning and I like it and I have no plans on giving it up anytime soon.

9) When I get irritated with someone on the phone, I do roll my eyes. I know it’s obnoxious and juvenile but sometimes it’s necessary so I do not slam the phone on the counter and say “Oh I’m sorry, I dropped you. Into the garbage-disposal.”

10) I hit the wrinkle shield button the dryer so many times that it speaks to me: ” Bish, wouldn’t it be more efficient or just transfer the clothes back into the washer and start over again.?”  I don’t know, maybe that’s Jesse Pinkman’s voice in the background.    Laundry is my all time-nemesis.

In closing, I absolutely would love to see  more authenticity  on Facebook or social media.  Please do not take this to the extreme and post all the gory details of your stomach flu or the abscess on a “undisclosed location.”   I really do not want to know your body fat percentage or see a selfie . every. single. day.  No, I do not want to see a picture of a half-dressed mom, lifting weights, after having birthed 25 babies with the caption “What’s Your Excuse?”   I’d rather know what fabulous new restaurant you found in a upcoming-trendy part of town, or that you would have come in first place for your age group at the local five 5k, but you’re clumsy like me and tripped right at the finish line. I’d love to see more pictures of your kids -not looking at the camera, folding their hands in discontent , pulling out the perfect ponytail (because that’s all I know how to ‘form’ in hair), you just spent 25 minutes spraying together in a beautiful bow.  I’m just saying, in my best Jesse Pinkman voice, “Be Real, Yo.”

*( https://www.facebook.com/BabySideburns )*If you are super conservative, don’t like honesty, profanity and shooting straight from the gut, then you could get your panties in a wad quite quickly.  I love her Facebook page, I have not read her book yet ( I heart my little A-Holes: a bunch of holy-crap moments no one ever told you about parenting, by Karen Alpert), but only because I have 50,000 other books I am currently reading , and I am banned from Amazon purchasing because I think I might have an Amazon addiction.

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I guess I haven’t quite buried the “my kids will never feel hunger EVER EVER EVER” demon quite yet. Sometimes I feel like I have made so much progress in my perpetual need of protecting my kids from my childhood, and then I look in the pantry. or freezer. And I am like “oh crap. I have some Journaling to do this week”

I have to laugh at myself and some of my quirks because they are a part of my DNA.  My family has no choice but to laugh with me OR feel an abundance of gratitude that we will absolutely survive a Zombie Apocalypse. In fact, we may be the “go-to” house for snacks and non-perishables. Well, except for the Ben & Jerrys. That will most likely be gone by then….

Seriously, if you could walk inside my brain you would be like “OMG. I HATE ROLLER COASTERS”. It’s REALLY busy in there.   I look forward to sleep because it means I am able to stop my brain from circling around like a tornado. I know deep in my soul I am a “writer” because I am always talking to myself, fighting with myself, directing myself, or having full blown debates WITH MYSELF on whether or not I have pushed the wrinkle shield on the dryer four or five times today.   Due  to the summer and “mom life”, I have been seriously side tracked like that runaway train in Unstoppable. I am NOT complaining.  The best way to describe what I am feeling right now can be explained as follows (especially to women because we seem to struggle with this scenario more than men):

  • You get a normal rhythm going with moderate healthy eating and exercise (I say moderate because I tend to get all obsessive about these things and moderation is really the only way I can stay sane)
  • Something happens (the eclipse. Kayne Marries Kim.  You get sidetracked with a debate on whether Beyonce is “all dat” or not, or you get sick..You know lifey stuff
  • The “hiccup of derailment”  catapults into days. weeks. month. You start eating cheetos for breakfast.  You count the “Insanity” Info-Mercial as “exercise”.

You get my point.  Once you get off that routine, you start psyching yourself out to STAY OFF because you are pissed at yourself for getting off in the first place and then you just let the “hiccup of derailment” become  a paralysis of production.  This is precisely what has occurred with my writing.  Yes, I have been  updated my journal but lets face it guys, I can’t even read what I wrote.   One of my entries is as follows:

Roman Numeral 56:  August 24th, Sprayed shower head outside of the shower. mess.  exercise ball bust tread. difficulty “ganning”?  thots.

I will spare you poor souls who are trapped reading my stream of consciousness writing, by not transcribing any more of my journal entries. (You want to stop reading my blog, but you just cannot stop, I’m like a four hour Lifetime movie)  Let me translate:  On August 24th,  I became misguided with which shower-turning-apparatus to utilize and the detachable shower-head was pointing out beyond the shower door. Needless to say, I was on the inverted loop part of my roller coaster brain and rather than JUST TURNING THE SHOWER OFF, I took way to long to reach up (on my tippie tippie toes because I’m vertically challenged) to BARELY commence the cessation of Niagara Falls onto my bathroom floor.  Additionally, my son felt it would be a fabulous idea to put the exercise-ball on the treadmill and hit ZOOM, in which it got trapped under treadmill and exploded. I will say , I had to hide my laughter when telling him that these are not appropriate extra curricular activities in the the basement.  My friend of four high spirited children responded with a “ROFL” text when I told her this story.

Do you know how many emails I have sent to myself to be filed under my gmail label “Writing ideas”? SIX HUNDRED TWENTY!!!  and the majority of these ideas were in the last couple of months. Writing prompts are my Kryptonite because I am a WALKING WRITING PROMPT!   I also thought it would be a fabulous idea to FIND writing contests to enter in an effort to feel like a more “productive writer”.   I think that last sentence was uttered out loud to my   husband which triggered a “head in his hands head shake” and the exclamation  “FOR THE LOVE OF MANKIND!! JUST FREAKING WRITE LAURIE!”

I am a solution oriented person. Yes it takes me a little bit longer to find a solution but I’m a scrappie, determined fighter, mixed with a philosophical-debating-furrowed-brow chromosome where my thoughts go to war with each other like the dudes from that movie 300.  (Apparently the latter of that sentence is now referred to as “RBF or Resting Bitch Face”, which I find HYSTERICAL because there is no guesswork in pinpointing when I am lost in my thoughts).    I do not want to say “I’m too smart for my own good”, because as referenced above from the  Suburban-Mom-Psycho-incident , that clearly isn’t the case.  In an effort to stay in the solution, I am going to list  acitivies that I will STOP doing immediately deter me from writing:

  • Reading the comments section on controversial blog topics  – People seem to take out their repressed child hood anger on bloggers via the  comment sections. I have had nightmares of an angry polemicist finding my blog and slicing me to pieces  with his/her verbal mastery.
  • Reading the comments section on high-profile Facebook posts/topics -  I am scared for all mankind and I feel like building a bunker and going into hiding after such an activity.
  • Googling “Does Kelly Ripa Eat Carbs”
  • Comparing myself to other MOMS.
  • Watching the “Anaconda” video and weeping like a baby because Sir Mix A Lot’s “Baby Got Back” has been forever ruined, and probably won’t be played at my retirement home in twenty five years.
  • Staring at my 620 writing prompts and saying “eff-it I just do not even know where to START,  omg, Sea-Salt-Gelato sounds so good right now!”
  • Taking Vanilla Ice’s  prose literally:  “If there is a problem, yo I’ll solve it” in thinking I can and need to solve the world’s problems, ESPECIALLY on Facebook (blog about my Facebook hiatus later..) tragedies  unfold at an alarming pace in our world and I absorb it ALL.
  • Obsessively cleaning.  I have to find a balance between “eff-it” and “Mommie Dearest episodes of the Clorox Rave party”
  • “Am I a good writer?” NEEDS to be eliminated from my thought process and from my vernacular

 

And No, I am not drinking.

 

 

 

 

 

I find myself stopping a blog or discontinuing or not publishing because I am never quite sure how much information I should delve out there on the internet.   I think the struggle for me in writing (and in life) is with my indecisive nature and the good news it’s fueled some Jerry McGuire moments where I am up at 3 am the past few mornings because my brain jolts awake and will NOT turn off.   
Writers??!!
What do we do when our brain WILL NOT TURN OFF? 
WE WRITE!!! 
Listed below are the 10 decisions or what I like to call “Projectile Vomiting into the future Incidents” that I am churning over in my head like a gerbil. at 3 am.

1)  What if I do not protect my children from the evils of the world and bad things happen to my family. I have “gerbalized” every scenario. (New word – gerbalize or gerbalizing is worrisome thoughts running around in one’s head on a gerbil wheel. Webster, come get me!).    I am strangely fascinated with the Final Destination movies, and I have seen #1 and #25  (aren’t there like 500 out already) and I have come to the conclusion I should NOT watch movies about FREAK accidents and Death as a  Stalker.

2) HOW many extra curricular activities should I sign my kids up for during the school year and how many  _______ Mommies am I willing to deal with in this process? Essentially, it is all about MY comfort levels right? (insert sarcasm) Does catapulting off the sofa and ripping the cushions out by their seams count as a sport?  Does putting chocolate milk into a WATER GUN and squirting it all over the walls and floor count as a sport? (in my defense, I was not home, my husband was on conference calls, and I was like: “WITH WHO? DR DRE? AND YOUR NOISE CANCELLING DRE BEATS? BC WE BETTER HAVE BEEN BROKERING A 4 BILLION DOLLAR DEAL TO HAVE IGNORED THE CHOCOLATE MILK APOCALYPSE!!!”

3) Have you seen the Goldbergs?  Well I find myself saying things like Mrs Goldberg when it comes to the “protection” of my children.  These are  are from the “memory recall” part of my brain, which is not all “ginkobiloabed” properly:
a)  On wrestling: “Did you hear about ________, he had a wrestling accident and now he is just a head on a ventilator”

b) On Halloween: “Don’t forget to bring all your candy to the hospital so we can have it x-ray’d for razor blades”

Yes, these are eerily similar to the things that come out of my mouth.   My son has pretty much told the entire neighborhood that I am the most overprotective Mom in THE WORLD.

4) I don’t know if this is a reason but it’s kind of what started this whole blog in a way. Yesterday, I took my daughter to a cheer-leading place to see what is was all about. I was a cheerleader for a small rural High School and I kind of got into all that from an athletic standpoint, but cheering in the rural North versus cheer-leading near the perimeter of Atlanta, Georgia are like  meditative Yoga versus Olympic style Cross-Fit.   All I can say is I came home and ate a giant bowl of pasta like a Mob Boss because I was so stressed out after that experience.  I do not feel, as a family, we are ready for that level of commitment due in part to the   “contract wording”:   “Your child must be awaiting transport of an iron lung from IRON MAN himself (or the other guy who plays IRON MAN)  if she/he is to miss practice”.

5) Due to # 4, I decided that “Intro to Gymnastics” was probably a better place to start.  Well , I spent like 5467098 hours on the internet trying to finagle my way through the various schedules in conjunction with my stay at ‘home-mom-bon bon-eating’ schedule. I just counted, I sent FIVE, emails  the the poor gymnastics people which openings like this “Wait, we can’t do Mondays because of this?” or “Oh ooops I made a mistake we can do Mondays”?    or “No wait, we can’t do Monday’s, can you call me I’m really confused about the schedule”.

6) Seriousness.  I know deep down inside 95% percent of my anxiety over raising children and all of this is due to me trying to protect my children from the “bad things” that happened in my childhood.  We all have baggage and unresolved dysfunction from our upbringing, and all I really want to do is use my experiences, (good and bad), to provide the best possible childhood for my children and I guess I try to do this (sometimes..) without making ANY mistakes.

7)  Ok, so being so ridiculously “self aware” at age 42 to the point that my husband reaches for his cigars every time I try to “feel my feelings” appropriately, I recognize that #6 may have spurred me into a bit of a “I FELL LIKE THE WEIGHT OF THE FREE WORLD IS ON MY SHOULDERS!!” phone conversation with my husband last night.   Thankfully my husband is very level-headed and does a great job in making me realize that I’m not making life or death decisions and I just “NEED TO CALM THE EFF DOWN ITS NOT THAT SERIOUS!!”

8) My son just got this   mouth-spacer-head-contraption-head-robot type thing in which I have to attach to his mouth nightly (well they said daily too when he’s on the computer or watching tv)  and remember to turn a key into the spacer-contraption-thingy so it widens his jaw, and now I have 54895175094128745091274 reminders on my phone, calendar, sticky notes, etc in which to do so. daily. “BUT WHAT IF I FORGET AND HE DOES NOT HAVE PERFECT TEEEEEEEEEEEEETHHHHHH.”

9) I was trying to calculate “something” last night and my phone (the calculator) was upstairs which was far too strenuous to fetch; THEREFORE, I proceeded to write a long division problem out on a piece of scratch paper and realized that I basically forgotten how to complete long division and long multiplication (is that even a thing??) and when I did go to find my phone, it was on top of their college saving statements which then made me realize that college is going to be a BILLION DOLLARS, so unless my husband brokered that contract with Dre from # 2, we are not going to be able to afford college and then I panicked because WHAT IF I CAN’T HELP THEM WITH MATH? AND NOW I’M PANICKING BECAUSE THIS SENTENCE IS A GRAMMATICAL RUN ON NIGHTMARE, SO WHAT IF I CAN’T HELP THEM WITH LANGUAGE ARTS?

10) I have written out ten number 10′s and they all sound really bizarre and I still struggle with the decision of how much to “put out there”  on the internet.    I definitely do want to share my work with the world but I also have issues in the past with people thinking like they know me extremely well, due to a friendship on social media, and quite frankly, it taps into a lot of codependent dysfunction ( see!!!!  I have learned “something” from all my Self Awareness Readings!!!!)

In closing, I’m literally out of words. I think that the run-on sentence of #9 , fried my brain.

 

 

I have been struggling to keep up with word press and blogging so I apologize if I haven’t seen comments or read blogs in a while!!

If I had less ——(I can’t think of a word to capitalize on what exactly less of I need to write more..), I could write all day , but then I would have nothing to write about because my life is the antithesis of boring, which I am grateful for in every single way. My point is, I’m hard on myself because I feel “behind” on my writing and book but it simply comes down to a catch-22 situation. I have adhd, OCD which drives my chaotic time management skills but it’s also the catalyst for my creativity.

A therapist once asked me in a session “Scrappie😆, do you think most Moms spray their child’s backpacks down with lysol everyday after school?”.
I have come a long way since my lysol-backpack-spraying-clorox-hoarding days, but I have a long way to go when on comes to truly letting go some of the control-mechanisms that I thought kept me sane for so long.

Yesterday my son said “You complicate answers to yes or no questions and you provide too much information”. He’s nine. I’m 42. He gets my brain which is amazingly wonderful but also undeniably frustrating when I am trying to discipline and set guidelines because he mashes on my buttons like a two year old in an elevator on a high rise.

that’s all I got. disjointed. a mess. unedited. done.

In a world that screams “be better, faster, stronger, thinner, happier, healthier, smarter, bouncier, boingier, etc”, we become our own worst critic. I believe in change, but not when it threatens the acceptance of who we are at  our core of beautiful personalities, which makes us special, unique, quirky and dynamic.

The most tumultuous battles I fight are with myself are because I’m not measuring up with what “I think” people need me to be doing, saying or being at this very moment.  “PEOPLE PLEASING” is a disease and it can literally kill your soul, your creativity, drive addicts to use again, incite aggression and make people mentally breakdown. I know from experience that when I am not being true to myself and my beliefs and I’m “buying in” to what other people are “selling” (metaphorically and literally) and I am not listening to my gut instincts, I end up in situations of regret and resentment.

Yes, we absolutely need to be considerate, kind and strive to help out our fellows. It is the times when we extend ourselves to others in full self abandonment, we end up on an empty gas tank forgetting to “fill~up” the most important person in the relationship equation, ourselves.  Self ~ Love does not mean becoming a doormat for others and saying “yes” to every request and demand. People who truly love us want us to say “No” or let our voices be heard.  People who thrive on YOUR “people pleasing”, are not loving you, they are using and manipulating you to gain something for themselves.

So why is Funny Lady Scrappie-Momma being so serious? I have been doing a lot of soul~searching, trying to find the real cause of my anxiety. I , like many, suffer from anxiety, depression and “projectile~future~vomiting”. Trust me , its LIGHT YEARS better than it was in my twenties and even thirties.  The truth is, the more peace I feel daily,  the more PEACE I need to feel daily,  and to shut the mental wars in my mind that occur in my brain.  I can create a tornado of distress in the middle of a sunshine filled day if I do not keep the “projectile~future~vomit” “inner voices in check.

I grew up with a lot of chaos. I finally provided a glimpse of my horrendous foster care  and schizophrenic Mom stories with my son and his response was “Wow, Mom you are the most interesting person I know!”..Wow, what a revelation,  rather than feeling shame or trepidation from my roller coaster childhood, I have amazing knowledge, strength and passion I can share my story in hopes to help others overcome barriers to full inner peace. (book!)  For me, when I feel peace, my brain is wired to say “OH SNAP, THIS SHIT ABOUT TO GET REAL, WAIT FOR IT SOMETHING INSANE ABOUT TO POP OFF BRO” (because my inner voice is most definitely a hip hop artist) . The reason my brain is wired like this is because for thirty years, it’s exactly how it happened for me!

In my childhood and through adulthood something “popped off” every one, two, to three years without fail. In a mirage of inconsistency, the one driving constant for me was turbulence.  Foster care, death, suicide,  divorce, alcoholism, anorexia,  etc. etc, either circumstantial or of my own , and at the time I thought, innocuous creations.  After 18, I definitely would subconsciously create sabotage, drama and mayhem because I thrived on burning the candle with a million ends. I use the terms innocuous and subconscious because I had developed my very own PHD from the”auto-pilot-drama” academy, where I was the student, teacher and graduate, completely oblivious to the sabotage I created for myself and to those around me.

In closing, this blog post started out as a Facebook post on my blog page I lose people after 140 characters and it took on a venue of its own.  The only goal I have for myself is to do things that bring me PEACE. I SIMPLY cannot be the Mom trying to outpace other Mom’s in whatever societal race we have created to raise Super Children. I cannot buy into the sensationalistic articles ( if you read them all, which I did for two years as a “health~coach”)  ,after all deductions and conclusions of said reading, I surmise facetiously, Organic Kale is the only food that won’t kill us. As Jim Gaffigan so eloquently stated in his recent stand up Obsessed, “Kale tastes like bitter spinach and hair”, and  after MANY attempts to try and like Kale, I have to agree. I just don’t like kale.

 

 

 

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