Full on Freak Out

Do you every have one of those mornings when you wake up and think, "I hate pretty much everything about my life at this second?" Okay, that's probably an overstatement, but you get the idea.

I am super tired of how I look physically. I am attempting to eat right, only to allow myself to be sabotaged by "Date Night" or my brother's left over half pack of cookies or White Castle (because you can never eat only one), or the delicious Chinese buffet up the street.

I believe-and have always felt-that my eating reflects my current emotional state; which at this moment is out of control. My house is in a CONSTANT state of chaos, the laundry is never done.  No one-myself included a lot of the time-picks up after themselves. There are cheap vodka bottles and discarded clothing in the middle of my living room. There is the ever present bowl of bacon grease at the side of my stove, a nod to my culture-and God forbid you get rid of that! Someone may need it for something. (For the record, I HATE bacon, the vat of grease is probably why.)

This place that I live in, and I have been here a year, I have been unable to move my things out of the garage and into the house as there is simply no place to put things save for my furniture. When I want to discard something, it is suddenly some one's "favorite" whatever. Even if it is an empty box.

I feel so out of control in my life I don't feel like I can even control the slide right now. I feel alone, with not a soul on my side, and that's pretty sad when I live with two people who claim they love me to the moon and back.  Even now, after having half a melt down over the Chinese buffet offer, I sit alone and tearful in a room surrounded by dirty socks, a half full pickle jar, some one's nasty dirty pants, and shoes....always fucking shoes. While others mindlessly play video games and sit on the deck leisurely smoking.

This may not be the right situation for me. I am not sure what adjustments need to be made for me to find contentment. I KNOW I am tired of bitching about wanting to eat right and exercise more (even if my leg is broken).  My gut says that I MUST trust myself. And that I intrinsically know what is right for me. Let me tell you, dear readers, this is NOT it.

My therapist has told me on more than one occasion, "The healthier you continue to get, the worse "sick" feels". I don't believe she could be more right. I want to tear through this house like and X-Men character to show my displeasure, although that may be a hair dramatic, don't ya think?

You and Tequila

I am crazy about my Bulldogge.  Everyone knows that.  He and I fit together like weird little puzzle pieces.  He loves me in a way I have never been loved before...without question.  And I love him like crazy. Its a scary proposition for a girl like me.

There are things in my life that drive me to want to run at a cellular level.  Whether its that I don't feel worthy or worry that the people around me will find out whatever it is that makes me so unlovable.

And then came the Wyatt Earp to my Doc Holliday.  It would've have been SO simple to keep running into the sunset with my running buddy.  And its not that its a romantic connection so much, but there's a fondness and tenderness there that is past romantic love.

It feels like an addict's mentality when it comes to running..."If one is good, six HAS to be better".  Wyatt Earp understands that running lust.  When I talk with him, or cuddle up in his stolen t shirt, or there's a certain soft smell in the air, I get that feeling deep in my gut that makes me long to run.

Sometimes I am jealous of him sipping margaritas in the desert sun.  His hat pulled down and cocked ever so slightly sideways to shade his eyes. Some outrageous story on his lips to be told in that Southern-on-crack drawl. I wish to be there with him.

AAANNNNNDDD....then there's the realization that I am becoming a different woman altogether.  All my work is starting to come together and make me understand that while it is hard, maybe I deserve a shot at a "regular" life. I like fishing and camping and spending time with my kids and my man.

Wyatt Earp, you may be one of the best friends I have ever had.  If you had come along just 3 months sooner, life would be entirely different right now.  I have rarely had more fun.  Which is why "You and Tequila" fits so well how I feel for you. And that we sang it half drunk in a bar at the beach.  

Small Hours

Here I sit, awake yet again in the wee small hours of the night. I have had a cocktail, taken my meds, watched a movie, shoveled my face full of Angel food cake...and yet I remain unable to find the peace of slumber.

Bulldogge speaks of the changes in me since my return from my forray to my beloved Florence. I remind him often that I have required medication to sleep for better than ten years and these bouts are nothing new. Sometimes I envy his ability to sleep.

I long to be free of the secrets that haunt me deep in the night. I long for comfort that does not belong to me. I long for safety from even my own mind. I yearn for understanding from those around me, including myself.

I feel guilty for the safety felt with my cheek resting in the palm of a friend. That memory has sustained me for quite some time. I doubt the owner of the hand even remembers the evening's rest, and yet it helps me find safety in my slumber on many evenings.

Now once more I shall place this weary head on my pillow, listening to the rhythmic snoring of the man next to me. I may be damned for using whatever tools are at my disposal to get tonight's  rest. Be that as it may. A girl needs to sleep.

The Baby Aches

What's funny is that I thought I was okay and settled with the fact that I can't biologically have any more children.  And then I found a man that compliments my life and adds to the new found happiness and freedom I have. Now I'm being greedy and want it ALL! Even if that includes having to find a way to buy  child.

Isn't it awful that there are so many roadblocks for people like the Bulldogge and I? Did you know that China has a rule that neither parent can have a BMI higher than 40? The poor Bulldogge would be over a 40 BMI even if he had spent a month in a concentration camp. His BONES have higher than a 40 BMI!!  Surrogacy costs well in excess of my annual income. And now most countries have closed their programs to Americans...Even the one we had banked on using, the Marshall Islands.

Our one ace in the hole I feel is that I am a strong Native woman. That qualifies us for a Native adoption. I know this because it was something I had investigated the first time I was married. (Oddly The Right Wing King felt his family wouldn't accept a baby of another race...hmmm...what about the wife and child you already have, fool?) Bulldogge would love a Native baby. He's already said so. He doesn't care, as long as there is always action in our home.

It may take a change of heart for ME. Maybe it is in my future to save and help older kids. Bulldogge and I could bring in any child and be happy. I once went to him and presented my fears that were leftover from my former relationship...you know, race, special needs, etc...he looked at me like I was from another planet and said, "Um, you're part Native and I'm deaf, why would I POSSIBLY have a problem with those things?!?" Damn I love that man.

Who knows where all of this is going to go? We're not even married yet. But when you find what you want forever, you just want it to start NOW.

Shake and Bake!

Son turns 20-yes, TWENTY- in the early hours of the morning.  I'm not entirely sure that I m ready for that. I don't know that HE'S ready for that. I don't want this to come off as some contrived "I adore Son and our relationship is PERFECT" piece...because that's not reality.

There are so many things that we haven't talked over that I want to, but I never know if its the right time. I know that on a certain level he must have anger towards me for so many unanswered questions and things that he remembers through the eyes of a small child. And I wonder about his feelings on the past. Maybe he is like the Baboon in "The Lion King"..."You can't change it, it is in he past"...but there are  million things I would like to explain.

I am so amazed at the man he is becoming. He is a hard headed SOB, that's for sure. Son will find a way to make what he wants happen. Its incredible. He is not just a dreamer who  never see his dreams to fruition. If  Son says he will, it will be done before I have time to think about it twice. Son can bust down walls!

Caring is a word I would use to describe my boy. He is so good to the Tiger and probably the only person in the world that the Tiger trusts. Son wears his heart on his sleeve. His feelings are right on the surface and that must be hard sometimes. Okay,  I know how hard that is, since I have the same struggle.

So on his birthday, I hope Son knows that I respect him. That I LIKE him. I would choose him for a friend. I want him to know that I want to keep working on our relationship. My hope is that he understands that he can come to me with any questions...and I do mean ANY question. We will continue to grow and change but we can still love each other. Family-true family-is all anyone can count on in this world.

Magic Man, this is El Diablo reminding you....SHAKE AND BAKE! YOU'LL BE MY BEST FRIEND FOREVER!

So This is Christmas

I have always hated Christmas.  It has represented this forced idea of family perfection to me.  And like most things connected to my childhood has always made me feel inadequate.  I was pretty far from the perfect child in a wildly imperfect family.  I swear that even at eight years old I knew that the forced family time was most CERTAINLY not for me.

My response to my previous experience has been to stop exchanging gifts in my family.  I figured it would lower the pressure threshold for everyone.  We instead roll dice and win our gifts.  The gifts then are not so much the focus and the family time is.  No one really cares if they win Silly Putty and Antonio Banderas cologne.  It's just that we laugh and joke and play for a few hours as friends and feel beloved.

This year I spent my first Christmas with the Bulldogge, the Irish Pope, an  the  rest of their family.  Let me admit this: When we left, I cried.  In my entire married life I never unwrapped a present except from my son.  I had never received a gift from my in- laws.  I bought my own gifts from the Right Wing King.  In fact, I do not believe that I have received a gift that I didn't pick since Son was born.

It hit me hard to feel love.  It surprised me to be thought of and appreciated and liked.  I wanted to hug my new mother and sister in law hard and never ever let go.  I wanted to express how special they had made me feel.  For once I wanted to spill the beans about what my life had been.  Mostly because I know that it wouldn't matter and that my MIL would just have held me and rocked me until I was cried out and then fed me a cookie.

So I have learned about what I was missing.  I am figuring out how awesome this family can be.  There are safe people beyond Son, BMD, The Tiger, and UB.  I am a lucky, lucky, lucky girl.  Not only do I get the awesome guy, I get the love of his family as well.

Well, this is one of the giant steps I am taking in owning my life.  Accepting that I am love worthy.  And not just by a man.  By many.

My Time is Now

I am going to change my life. Like BIG change.  I am going to start doing what makes me happy.  Without worrying about if it makes me look crazier than I already do.

I have decided to love myself.  To like myself.  To see myself the way many others see me.  I am going to convince myself that I am worth working for.

I am tired of beating myself up and treating myself like garbage.  I am like an addict in my insanity and mistreatment of myself.  I will accept anything.  And it feels pretty rotten.  Especially since I am allowing myself to do it.

There are no reasons left to discount myself.  I am getting the help I need.  I have the love and acceptance of an outstanding man.  My son is grown and is such a fine young man.  It is my time.  Now I will chase down what I have every right to have.

It is time to pick up my guitars again.  Its time to take out my anger with muay tai lessons.  I will force my man into dance leasons.  I am going to become a doctor.  My wardrobe will be beautiful and bold, like the woman that wears it.

So my Christmas present to myself is love and acceptance.  Yay me!  Wish me luck, and love, and happiness