So tonight, my youngest son and I were walking into Walgreen's when he asks me a really interesting question. He wanted to know why most of the songs today were about "sex, drugs and money." That stopped me.
I looked down at him and said, "I think it's because those songs sell. People listen to them and buy the music."
"Huh," was his reply.
I do like my pop music. I also like dance music and techno and stuff that makes me want to shake my tail feathers. I always have and I probably always will. So I'm pretty in tune with what's currently popular these days and boy....it's a far cry from the songs of my parents' generation.
I remember when "Wake Up Little Susie" was a shocker. I mean, look at those lyrics! They fell asleep at the movie show and now, boy oh boy....trouble!
And let's not forget Olivia Newton-John's song, "Physical" which was...um....stimulating, indeed. I remember when stations wouldn't play the song and it was banned and there was this HUGE outcry. What filthy lyrics!
Hah. Hah hah....hah....what would those people think of the songs today?
Let's see. We have Rihanna singing about "S and M" in the song with the same title. We have another group of men singing about the "backseat" and yet another man singing about "loving you" in the clean version but the explicit version is more blunt: change the verb to the F word instead.
And boy, those explicit versions are explicit. There's the F word. The B word. The Ass word and even sexual organs are named. I think the naysayers from the sixties and seventies would dead away faint if they listened to the lyrics.
Which brings me to another thing. What in the world is up with this Autotune business? T-Pain sounds all right but he can actually sing. It seems as though Autotune is a tool to give even the worst rapper a sideass way to carry a "melody", as laughable as that is. It's getting to the point where my sons and I groan when a song comes on and it's almost all Autotune. Bleagh.
As for drugs, it seems that I should be smoking a joint or a blunt these days to be sexy and all that. Mostly, weed is the drug of choice in songs but alcohol is also strongly suggested. After all, as Jamie Foxx sang, "Blame it on the Alcohol" when it comes to dumbass behavior. Gosh, that's an example to set, isn't it?
And then there's the money. I know that's part of the appeal of the glamour but ye gods. Money money money....and the stuff money can buy. All that bling and status stuff.
My boys and I talk about the songs we listen to. I have them listen to songs that aren't about the money or the sex or the drugs. My current favourite songs are by Taylor Swift and by Janelle Monae and by P!nk. Empowering songs and by women in different musical genres. That's pretty sweet.
So I'm glad my youngest son brought up his astute observation. It gives me the opening to tell him that even though some songs are about sex and drugs and money...there are plenty of good songs out there that aren't. And it's OK to like a song because of the music or the beat and the bass. But it's OK to say, "I like the music but NOT the lyrics because they're degrading to women/gay people/minorities."
I think it's important to not shame our kids if they like songs that we aren't comfortable with--it's important to find out why they like the song so much. And then, it's crucial to talk to them about the message the song is putting forth--so they, too, can say, "I can embrace this whole song" or "I'm not OK with this part of it" or even "I won't listen to this song because I don't want to support any part of it at all."
As for me, I'll keep on listening and singing along and keeping track of the music my boys are listening to. It lets me keep a pulse on what they think and feel. And if I can dance around the house to it, that's not necessarily a bad thing, either.
K.
Monday, April 4, 2011
So this is what it feels like? Bleagh.
I tried today to eat like I would if I were dieting. Or watching my caloric intake.
I have decided that I'd rather be happy and eat what I like and go for walks than sit there and eat these portions that are fit for small birds.
I have also decided that the real reason some people who are super skinny are in such a bad mood most of the time is because they're *starving*. Seriously, how in the HELL can you concentrate when your body is saying, 'look. Just put a goddamn cheeseburger into me, would ya? Or a shake. Just one freaking shake.'
And they're going, 'noooo...because if I don't watch my weight, I'm going to be undesireable and called fattie and I won't ever be able to wear a bikini or something like that ever and I will just die of shame.'
Wow. No wonder these people walk around with either a half glazed look on their face or else a grump that would impress Eeyore.
Granted, I'd like to be as thin as I was about four years ago. I'm not. I've seen pictures of myself when I was in my early twenties and I could cry. But I won't.
See, the thing is, I'm fed up. (no pun intended) I'm fed up with these airbrushed photos of women. I'm fed up of the way people are made to feel when they get old. I'm fed up with how society shoves aside our elders and instead fixates on the young, the shallow, and the physically attractive.
Seriously?
I've mouthed this before but this time, I mean it. I'm OK with getting wrinkles. I'm OK that I am not super thin. I'm OK that I have grey in my hair and that I'm beginning to show some signs of aging. Yeah, I do grimace a bit from time to time and I have been known to examine myself in a mirror to see exactly where those lines are forming but overall, I remind myself that I am buying into what the media wants me to believe and I am so against that.
My Awesome Guy Loves me for me. He doesn't care that I don't look like I did four years ago. My sons Love me for me. My friends and Chosen Family Love me for me. It's true, you know...the people who really matter don't give a rat's ass if you fit into a size 2 or a size 24...they Love YOU.
So this was a grand experiment today. I will eat healthy, yes. But I'm not going to starve myself to be "thin." I want to be the role model my sons emulate and more importantly, I want to be the kind of woman they want their future mate to be like: someone who is comfortable in her own skin, no matter what her age or weight.
I am going to still go on walks and I think I'll do some Wii fit because it's good to be toned and healthy to encourage longevity...I want to be around here for a while. But to do all of that and starve myself so that I can look like every other miserable woman who bought into the Bullshit?
No, thanks. I'll pass.
But pass me that cheeseburger, please. And some fries on the side.
It's good to be me.
K.
I have decided that I'd rather be happy and eat what I like and go for walks than sit there and eat these portions that are fit for small birds.
I have also decided that the real reason some people who are super skinny are in such a bad mood most of the time is because they're *starving*. Seriously, how in the HELL can you concentrate when your body is saying, 'look. Just put a goddamn cheeseburger into me, would ya? Or a shake. Just one freaking shake.'
And they're going, 'noooo...because if I don't watch my weight, I'm going to be undesireable and called fattie and I won't ever be able to wear a bikini or something like that ever and I will just die of shame.'
Wow. No wonder these people walk around with either a half glazed look on their face or else a grump that would impress Eeyore.
Granted, I'd like to be as thin as I was about four years ago. I'm not. I've seen pictures of myself when I was in my early twenties and I could cry. But I won't.
See, the thing is, I'm fed up. (no pun intended) I'm fed up with these airbrushed photos of women. I'm fed up of the way people are made to feel when they get old. I'm fed up with how society shoves aside our elders and instead fixates on the young, the shallow, and the physically attractive.
Seriously?
I've mouthed this before but this time, I mean it. I'm OK with getting wrinkles. I'm OK that I am not super thin. I'm OK that I have grey in my hair and that I'm beginning to show some signs of aging. Yeah, I do grimace a bit from time to time and I have been known to examine myself in a mirror to see exactly where those lines are forming but overall, I remind myself that I am buying into what the media wants me to believe and I am so against that.
My Awesome Guy Loves me for me. He doesn't care that I don't look like I did four years ago. My sons Love me for me. My friends and Chosen Family Love me for me. It's true, you know...the people who really matter don't give a rat's ass if you fit into a size 2 or a size 24...they Love YOU.
So this was a grand experiment today. I will eat healthy, yes. But I'm not going to starve myself to be "thin." I want to be the role model my sons emulate and more importantly, I want to be the kind of woman they want their future mate to be like: someone who is comfortable in her own skin, no matter what her age or weight.
I am going to still go on walks and I think I'll do some Wii fit because it's good to be toned and healthy to encourage longevity...I want to be around here for a while. But to do all of that and starve myself so that I can look like every other miserable woman who bought into the Bullshit?
No, thanks. I'll pass.
But pass me that cheeseburger, please. And some fries on the side.
It's good to be me.
K.
Friday, March 18, 2011
When the Darkness rolls...
I was 17 when I was diagnosed with bipolar.
I can remember it starting when I was 12. It flared when I was 14. And from there on, it has been part of my life, over half my lifetime now.
I don't have strong manic episodes. They usually consist of me unable to sleep so I read. Or get up and do housework. Or watch movies. My mind agitates. I can't sleep because I have thoughts rushing up and down the expressways of my mind and I can feel them whooosh up and down, back and forth, like race cars. It is a bit disturbing and I am grateful when they slow down, when my mind stops spinning, and I can sleep.
But those are nothing compared to the depressive episodes. When the Blackness hits (a term I've used for my depression), things slow down. I move slower, I talk slower, I think slower. Somebody dumped molasses into my think tank and it gums up the works. Those days, I take slow, deep breaths and do what needs to be done but I don't push myself. I know that I need to take the time to let my chemistry balance itself and if I exhaust myself, that puts me square into another danger.
The Darkness comes. The Darkness (which is my suicidal thoughts) is awful. It's insidious and remorseless. It washes over everything, mutes everything in my head, shuts down as much as It can. Some days, I don't hear it. Not much. Just a subliminal murmur that I can ignore as I go about and enjoy the day. When the Blackness hits, that murmur gets pushed up a few notches. I can still ignore the Darkness, it's harder, but I concentrate on eating well and sleeping and not triggering anything if I can help it.
Once the Darkness is in full effect, that murmur becomes a full out roar, a scream, a rush of noise that overshadows and overwhelms. Its goal is to grind me down, to tire me, to make me pick up the blades and end it. When the Darkness is calling, I won't touch the knives in the house. I am not in a good place in my head and I know now, that I can tell my Awesome Guy and he will hold me while I cry and while I fight and while I push back as hard as I dare to. Exhausting myself emotionally is just a very bad idea.
So I push back. I try to Remember that this will pass. The Darkness will again fade away to almost nothing and I will be here, still. There are people who DO Love me. They Love me for me. I don't have to hide who I am. Or be someone I'm not.
I try and Remember this while I'm lost in the fog in my mind and all I can hear is the Darkness screaming at me. I do have One Weapon, though.
I call Him Bear. He is the sum and substance of my subconscious and my inner strength and wisdom. He is the entirety of my Soul and my Guardian of the Gates. He treads the Garden Paths inside and sends me Bear Dreams, rich with magic and wisdom. I don't get those often but I recognize them when I do. Bear resides deep inside and when I am at my wit's end, He comes out, lumbering, His great grizzly form rearing up to full measure and I retreat, letting Bear deal with the Darkness.
Bear does so with grace and strength. He pushes It back. He has no patience for the lies nor the knife edge and He gives me the breathing space I need to gather my resources and shut It down.
I am exhausted after a fight with the Darkness. I sleep a lot. I am fragile emotionally and am prone to tears until my equilibrium catches up with me.
The Darkness tells me that I am alone. It says that no one would care if I left. It says that I would be a good riddance as I am nothing but a burden to those who Love me and that it would be a relief when I'm gone. It says that I am Worthless. It says so many things that have hurt me ever since I was small.
Bear says that these are all Lies. Lies and things people have told me because they wanted to hurt me, because they wanted to control me, because they could not accept me for who I am and that I could not be what they wanted me to be. Bear says that I need to continue to fight and that I need to let others know that they're not alone when they hurt inside and when their own Darkness comes calling their Name.
When I am doing Ok, when I can feel the sun shine inside of me, I don't believe the Darkness one moment. I know the Lies for what they are and I can dismiss them easily. They are but shadows in the sun.
It's when I'm not doing Ok, when the Blackness has twisted my perception and the Darkness is waiting in the wings, that's when it's easier to think that perhaps I'm just being delusional. Perhaps I am lying to myself.
Today is a good day. My head is clear, my wrists don't ache (a sign that my chemical balance in my body is gone awry) and I don't hear the whispers very much at all. I'm taking it easy today. I will probably nap later on and make sure that I keep my resources as full as I can.
I am so very grateful for the people who Love me. I am so very grateful for my friends who are there for me, when I feel alone. I have my sons and my Awesome Guy and a great great roomie who understands my struggles and I am enriched so much by the people in my life.
The Blackness and the Darkness seek to isolate, this I know. I think it's important for people who fight it, to seek out just one person to talk to. I think it's important for those who Love us who fight, to let us know that they're here for us, that they will hold our hand,lead us out or walk beside us until we can walk away.
I write about this because I want people to know they're not alone in the Good Fight. There is nothing to be ashamed of. There is always hope. There is always Love.
Don't believe what the Darkness tells you. The Darkness is a Lie.
K.
I can remember it starting when I was 12. It flared when I was 14. And from there on, it has been part of my life, over half my lifetime now.
I don't have strong manic episodes. They usually consist of me unable to sleep so I read. Or get up and do housework. Or watch movies. My mind agitates. I can't sleep because I have thoughts rushing up and down the expressways of my mind and I can feel them whooosh up and down, back and forth, like race cars. It is a bit disturbing and I am grateful when they slow down, when my mind stops spinning, and I can sleep.
But those are nothing compared to the depressive episodes. When the Blackness hits (a term I've used for my depression), things slow down. I move slower, I talk slower, I think slower. Somebody dumped molasses into my think tank and it gums up the works. Those days, I take slow, deep breaths and do what needs to be done but I don't push myself. I know that I need to take the time to let my chemistry balance itself and if I exhaust myself, that puts me square into another danger.
The Darkness comes. The Darkness (which is my suicidal thoughts) is awful. It's insidious and remorseless. It washes over everything, mutes everything in my head, shuts down as much as It can. Some days, I don't hear it. Not much. Just a subliminal murmur that I can ignore as I go about and enjoy the day. When the Blackness hits, that murmur gets pushed up a few notches. I can still ignore the Darkness, it's harder, but I concentrate on eating well and sleeping and not triggering anything if I can help it.
Once the Darkness is in full effect, that murmur becomes a full out roar, a scream, a rush of noise that overshadows and overwhelms. Its goal is to grind me down, to tire me, to make me pick up the blades and end it. When the Darkness is calling, I won't touch the knives in the house. I am not in a good place in my head and I know now, that I can tell my Awesome Guy and he will hold me while I cry and while I fight and while I push back as hard as I dare to. Exhausting myself emotionally is just a very bad idea.
So I push back. I try to Remember that this will pass. The Darkness will again fade away to almost nothing and I will be here, still. There are people who DO Love me. They Love me for me. I don't have to hide who I am. Or be someone I'm not.
I try and Remember this while I'm lost in the fog in my mind and all I can hear is the Darkness screaming at me. I do have One Weapon, though.
I call Him Bear. He is the sum and substance of my subconscious and my inner strength and wisdom. He is the entirety of my Soul and my Guardian of the Gates. He treads the Garden Paths inside and sends me Bear Dreams, rich with magic and wisdom. I don't get those often but I recognize them when I do. Bear resides deep inside and when I am at my wit's end, He comes out, lumbering, His great grizzly form rearing up to full measure and I retreat, letting Bear deal with the Darkness.
Bear does so with grace and strength. He pushes It back. He has no patience for the lies nor the knife edge and He gives me the breathing space I need to gather my resources and shut It down.
I am exhausted after a fight with the Darkness. I sleep a lot. I am fragile emotionally and am prone to tears until my equilibrium catches up with me.
The Darkness tells me that I am alone. It says that no one would care if I left. It says that I would be a good riddance as I am nothing but a burden to those who Love me and that it would be a relief when I'm gone. It says that I am Worthless. It says so many things that have hurt me ever since I was small.
Bear says that these are all Lies. Lies and things people have told me because they wanted to hurt me, because they wanted to control me, because they could not accept me for who I am and that I could not be what they wanted me to be. Bear says that I need to continue to fight and that I need to let others know that they're not alone when they hurt inside and when their own Darkness comes calling their Name.
When I am doing Ok, when I can feel the sun shine inside of me, I don't believe the Darkness one moment. I know the Lies for what they are and I can dismiss them easily. They are but shadows in the sun.
It's when I'm not doing Ok, when the Blackness has twisted my perception and the Darkness is waiting in the wings, that's when it's easier to think that perhaps I'm just being delusional. Perhaps I am lying to myself.
Today is a good day. My head is clear, my wrists don't ache (a sign that my chemical balance in my body is gone awry) and I don't hear the whispers very much at all. I'm taking it easy today. I will probably nap later on and make sure that I keep my resources as full as I can.
I am so very grateful for the people who Love me. I am so very grateful for my friends who are there for me, when I feel alone. I have my sons and my Awesome Guy and a great great roomie who understands my struggles and I am enriched so much by the people in my life.
The Blackness and the Darkness seek to isolate, this I know. I think it's important for people who fight it, to seek out just one person to talk to. I think it's important for those who Love us who fight, to let us know that they're here for us, that they will hold our hand,lead us out or walk beside us until we can walk away.
I write about this because I want people to know they're not alone in the Good Fight. There is nothing to be ashamed of. There is always hope. There is always Love.
Don't believe what the Darkness tells you. The Darkness is a Lie.
K.
Part II: Consequences and Actions
This wasn't the blog post I was going to write. But I think it's important.
In South Africa, there recently was a meeting of government officials and other people to discuss "corrective rape." Yes, I didn't write that wrong.
For those of you not in the know, corrective rape is when a lesbian is raped by a man or men (!!!) to "change" her to becoming heterosexual. I kid you not.
This has been going on for YEARS and until only recently has received the international attention it should have and now the government is going, please stop barraging us with petitions to stop this and we'll do something about it.
I am, grimly, pleased. Stop petitioning for this awful crime to cease? Sure 'nuff. When the government stops the actions legally. When the women who have been raped are provided free medical and psychological care. When these men are put behind bars for their actions.
Rape is a controlling device. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less. It's not sex. It's not seduction. It's certainly not something done to let a woman (or man) know that they're desireable.
Rape hurts. It physically hurts. It psychologically hurts. The damage can go on for years. The body heals. The mind, on the other hand, takes time and sometimes, it never does heal. PTSD is a bitch.
I know these things because I've been raped. I've been raped more than once and I've been raped by men I thought I could trust--boyfriends and friends. I've been sexually assaulted too but that's a whole different kettle of fish. It was thisclose to rape but I managed to avoid actual penetration. Everything else was up for grabs, shall we say.
A while ago now, there was a person on Etsy who had designed a card which was supposed to be funny. Except the picture on the front wasn't so funny. It was a photo of a woman sitting in a shower, nude. Her eyes were blank. Her position was as fetal as one could get, for sitting in a shower. The point of the card? "Congratulations! You've been bad touched."
Yeah....that...triggered the hell out of me. See, after a woman has been raped, she's not to take a shower. That destroys evidence, see. I knew that. So even though I wanted to take a shower, I didn't. I waited. Waited for seven HOURS because I wanted my boyfriend at the time to be there when the police came so I waited with my rapist's smell on me and his semen inside of me. I felt....well, I wanted a shower so badly but I wanted this man to be nailed to the wall. So I waited.
Afterwards, I got into the shower. I may have sat down in it. I know I scrubbed myself obsessively clean. I know I cried. I hurt. I hurt so badly.
A person can logically point out to me that the person who made this card has rights under the First Amendment. This is correct. A person can point out to me that I don't have to buy this card. This is also correct. A person can also say that I shouldn't let this affect me as it did and at that point, I am going to tell said person to take a long walk off a short pier. (I'm being nice).
Every rape I endured, I told myself I'd get through it. I'd survive and go on. Every rape I recovered from, I told myself that I am not at fault for it. I didn't ask for it. I sure in hell didn't deserve it.
And I am a survivor. I'm an advocate. I'm here for other women and men who have gone through this kind of hurt and hell and I can tell them that it is OK. That they're not worthless and they're not objects and they have the goddamn right to be as angry and sad and whatever else emotion they feel and they have the fecking right to tell others, this is NOT OK.
I, of course, signed the petition for the leaders of South Africa. I signed the petition for Etsy to stop the making of this card, First Amendment rights be damned.
It needs to start with one. One person who will be vocal and will not stop until their voice is heard.
My hats are off to the brave women of South Africa who brought this to our attention. My hats are off to the men and women who are there for rape victims and who work to make sure that the rape culture that pervades our society and the world is pushed back, is slowly eliminated.
These are signs of hope. I hope one day that it doesn't matter what the circumstances are. Rape is rape. And people who respond to that for what it is.
K.
In South Africa, there recently was a meeting of government officials and other people to discuss "corrective rape." Yes, I didn't write that wrong.
For those of you not in the know, corrective rape is when a lesbian is raped by a man or men (!!!) to "change" her to becoming heterosexual. I kid you not.
This has been going on for YEARS and until only recently has received the international attention it should have and now the government is going, please stop barraging us with petitions to stop this and we'll do something about it.
I am, grimly, pleased. Stop petitioning for this awful crime to cease? Sure 'nuff. When the government stops the actions legally. When the women who have been raped are provided free medical and psychological care. When these men are put behind bars for their actions.
Rape is a controlling device. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less. It's not sex. It's not seduction. It's certainly not something done to let a woman (or man) know that they're desireable.
Rape hurts. It physically hurts. It psychologically hurts. The damage can go on for years. The body heals. The mind, on the other hand, takes time and sometimes, it never does heal. PTSD is a bitch.
I know these things because I've been raped. I've been raped more than once and I've been raped by men I thought I could trust--boyfriends and friends. I've been sexually assaulted too but that's a whole different kettle of fish. It was thisclose to rape but I managed to avoid actual penetration. Everything else was up for grabs, shall we say.
A while ago now, there was a person on Etsy who had designed a card which was supposed to be funny. Except the picture on the front wasn't so funny. It was a photo of a woman sitting in a shower, nude. Her eyes were blank. Her position was as fetal as one could get, for sitting in a shower. The point of the card? "Congratulations! You've been bad touched."
Yeah....that...triggered the hell out of me. See, after a woman has been raped, she's not to take a shower. That destroys evidence, see. I knew that. So even though I wanted to take a shower, I didn't. I waited. Waited for seven HOURS because I wanted my boyfriend at the time to be there when the police came so I waited with my rapist's smell on me and his semen inside of me. I felt....well, I wanted a shower so badly but I wanted this man to be nailed to the wall. So I waited.
Afterwards, I got into the shower. I may have sat down in it. I know I scrubbed myself obsessively clean. I know I cried. I hurt. I hurt so badly.
A person can logically point out to me that the person who made this card has rights under the First Amendment. This is correct. A person can point out to me that I don't have to buy this card. This is also correct. A person can also say that I shouldn't let this affect me as it did and at that point, I am going to tell said person to take a long walk off a short pier. (I'm being nice).
Every rape I endured, I told myself I'd get through it. I'd survive and go on. Every rape I recovered from, I told myself that I am not at fault for it. I didn't ask for it. I sure in hell didn't deserve it.
And I am a survivor. I'm an advocate. I'm here for other women and men who have gone through this kind of hurt and hell and I can tell them that it is OK. That they're not worthless and they're not objects and they have the goddamn right to be as angry and sad and whatever else emotion they feel and they have the fecking right to tell others, this is NOT OK.
I, of course, signed the petition for the leaders of South Africa. I signed the petition for Etsy to stop the making of this card, First Amendment rights be damned.
It needs to start with one. One person who will be vocal and will not stop until their voice is heard.
My hats are off to the brave women of South Africa who brought this to our attention. My hats are off to the men and women who are there for rape victims and who work to make sure that the rape culture that pervades our society and the world is pushed back, is slowly eliminated.
These are signs of hope. I hope one day that it doesn't matter what the circumstances are. Rape is rape. And people who respond to that for what it is.
K.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
So, how's that working out for you?
Wow.
College is intense. Not that I didn't know it wouldn't be but I am up to my ears in homework and making sure my assignments are due on time and all of that and boy.
Hi, how are you? I haven't talked to you in AGES.
I am, however, going to write in this blog at least once a week because the writing is my way to let the stress out and if I don't write, I'm a gonna blow like a tea kettle.
How are things going? Well, let me update you.
College Writing II is about writing a Research Paper. Gah. The good thing is that I get to choose the topic. The other good thing is is my teacher is pretty cool. That plus I have somehow been adopted by some highschool girls who are taking this class. They are on the danceline and they come from practice to the school so they have their hair all done up and are kind of adorable. God, I feel old.
At any rate, I have about nine articles to read and highlight and write on index cards (I was way proactive and bought 300 of the Motherfeckers) This is Writing!!!
I also am doing interviews. I have one set up for tomorrow afternoon and am scheduling another for this weekend. Booya!
Math for Dummies is going reasonably well. I get the concepts and thus far, I'm pulling an "A" in the class. I got an "A" on the first big test so now I've changed the name of the class to Math for Hopeful Geniuses. Yes, I hope big time that I can keep my "A". We shall see. Thanks to an awesome tutor and a teacher who really breaks it down, I'm doing pretty good. We're working on fractions right now.
Intro to Sociology is a hoot. I have a professor who is blunt. How blunt? He had us write down the keys to doing well in this class. It was: RTFQ and RTFB. Which stands for Read the Fucking Question and Read the Fucking Book. Awesomesauce. It also helps to Read the Fucking Syllabus correctly as last time, I misread it and was expecting a lecture but no, it was the first exam. Feck and feck. I hope I got a "B" but I might have pulled a "C". I'm not going to let myself get messed up like that again.
My Health class is interesting. It's a Health and Drugs class that's almost entirely online and since I regard this class as a "class" I am being very very good about doing my work ON TIME. I took the first big test there and scored 39 out of 40 so that made me pretty darn happy! That plus I'm turning in all my work and getting "A's" so we shall see.
What this means, however, is I have no social life. I study each night. I do the boys' activities with them. I take my Big Guy to cello lessons on Tuesday nights. He also has Boy scouts twice a month. I have a Committee meeting to go to (which I haven't been able to but will start up soon) once a month for Boy scouts.
My youngest is finishing up Cub scouts. I am pushing myself to make it through until mid March when he graduates from Cub scouts and goes on to Boy scouts. Whew. Until then, I am his Den Leader, the Awards Chair, and also am supposed to go to Cub scout Committee meetings (I have pretty much failed at that since I began spring semester).
I do keep in touch and I do my duties as a Den Leader and Awards Chair so I don't think people can say too much about it. It'll just be much easier when I'm only involved in the one Scouting activity.
Then, we have other stuff going on and they need their Momma time and my Awesome Guy needs his Us Time and I kind of need some Alone time. Somehow, I make it all work.
It just gets....tiring. Is it worth it? Oh, hella yeah.
But yeah. And now, it's time for bed. I've run around a good portion of the day getting Things Done and now I need to get some sleep. I have two classes tomorrow and that interview so I best be sharp for all of it.
K.
College is intense. Not that I didn't know it wouldn't be but I am up to my ears in homework and making sure my assignments are due on time and all of that and boy.
Hi, how are you? I haven't talked to you in AGES.
I am, however, going to write in this blog at least once a week because the writing is my way to let the stress out and if I don't write, I'm a gonna blow like a tea kettle.
How are things going? Well, let me update you.
College Writing II is about writing a Research Paper. Gah. The good thing is that I get to choose the topic. The other good thing is is my teacher is pretty cool. That plus I have somehow been adopted by some highschool girls who are taking this class. They are on the danceline and they come from practice to the school so they have their hair all done up and are kind of adorable. God, I feel old.
At any rate, I have about nine articles to read and highlight and write on index cards (I was way proactive and bought 300 of the Motherfeckers) This is Writing!!!
I also am doing interviews. I have one set up for tomorrow afternoon and am scheduling another for this weekend. Booya!
Math for Dummies is going reasonably well. I get the concepts and thus far, I'm pulling an "A" in the class. I got an "A" on the first big test so now I've changed the name of the class to Math for Hopeful Geniuses. Yes, I hope big time that I can keep my "A". We shall see. Thanks to an awesome tutor and a teacher who really breaks it down, I'm doing pretty good. We're working on fractions right now.
Intro to Sociology is a hoot. I have a professor who is blunt. How blunt? He had us write down the keys to doing well in this class. It was: RTFQ and RTFB. Which stands for Read the Fucking Question and Read the Fucking Book. Awesomesauce. It also helps to Read the Fucking Syllabus correctly as last time, I misread it and was expecting a lecture but no, it was the first exam. Feck and feck. I hope I got a "B" but I might have pulled a "C". I'm not going to let myself get messed up like that again.
My Health class is interesting. It's a Health and Drugs class that's almost entirely online and since I regard this class as a "class" I am being very very good about doing my work ON TIME. I took the first big test there and scored 39 out of 40 so that made me pretty darn happy! That plus I'm turning in all my work and getting "A's" so we shall see.
What this means, however, is I have no social life. I study each night. I do the boys' activities with them. I take my Big Guy to cello lessons on Tuesday nights. He also has Boy scouts twice a month. I have a Committee meeting to go to (which I haven't been able to but will start up soon) once a month for Boy scouts.
My youngest is finishing up Cub scouts. I am pushing myself to make it through until mid March when he graduates from Cub scouts and goes on to Boy scouts. Whew. Until then, I am his Den Leader, the Awards Chair, and also am supposed to go to Cub scout Committee meetings (I have pretty much failed at that since I began spring semester).
I do keep in touch and I do my duties as a Den Leader and Awards Chair so I don't think people can say too much about it. It'll just be much easier when I'm only involved in the one Scouting activity.
Then, we have other stuff going on and they need their Momma time and my Awesome Guy needs his Us Time and I kind of need some Alone time. Somehow, I make it all work.
It just gets....tiring. Is it worth it? Oh, hella yeah.
But yeah. And now, it's time for bed. I've run around a good portion of the day getting Things Done and now I need to get some sleep. I have two classes tomorrow and that interview so I best be sharp for all of it.
K.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Part I: Consequences and Reactions
It's been a rough few days.
I'll try and put in some good things here because I don't want to be all Dark and everything but...
It's been a rough few days.
My Awesome Guy said, "It never really goes away." and he's right. I've been emotionally exhausted, physically exhausted, and I had a rather intense therapy session this evening, with my Awesome Guy in attendance.
Triggers are fascinating things. All by themselves, they're innocuous. But as any person who has PTSD or have gone through some trauma, add, mix, and BOOM!
I don't know how other people deal with their triggers blowing them out of the water, but I can tell you I hang on for dear life. It's like being on one of those extreme rides at the Fair...the ones that have you upside down and inside out and are fast and disorientating. I see the people on these rides and some of them are hanging on with white knuckles, screaming all the while. I hear you, pals, I hear you.
I have never been on one of those rides; they scare the living poo out of me, to be honest. I have a young son who absolutely *loves* thrill rides and those rides beckon to him with all the allure of the daredevil thrills and chills the ride promises. He's gone on rides that have me doing the screaming meemies from THE GROUND. Watching on terra firma and gazing upwards at him, seeing him *laugh*. Insanity, I tells you. :)
But this. The strong, subconscious side of me (which I have named Bear) has blocked any dreams. Dreams that are also triggering for me have been, somehow, set aside. I have dreamt odd dreams the past couple of nights but not the dreams I'd feared dreaming. I wake up with relief that I didn't have to relive those memories. Instead, I am *exhausted* physically and emotionally, I've been in a free for all.
I have cried way too much the past couple of days. Tears well up in my eyes for no reason at all and I assure my sons that it isn't them and that yes, hugs and kisses for their momma is plenty appreciated. I have received many hugs and kisses and that's helped a lot.
I am grateful for my Awesome Guy's understanding. He knows what I'm feeling and why I'm feeling and he holds me while I cry and he lets me scream out my rage and he expresses his own feelings about the triggers and what's happened to make me feel so fragile and unsafe.
I'm safe in my house, true. But I'm as fragile as a leaf in the wind. I cringe around strangers. I don't want to be around people I don't know and don't trust and when I picked up pizza for dinner tonight, I retreated to the corner to wait for my order. I noted that I was where no one could come up behind me, I could watch all around me and my back was protected. Check, check, and check.
This will pass, of course. It will fade away and I'll be less hesitant. But right now, while the emotions and the memories threaten to overwhelm me, I'll take care of myself so that it passes all the quicker.
To that end, I drink cups of tea in my Christmas gift tea cup from someone I Love very much. I listen to music. I read. I sleep a lot. I am fortunate that I have this week to rest and that I don't have to pretend that I'm OK. Because I'm not OK.
I will be, though. I am strong, resilient, and I will bounce back and be my old self once more.
Until then, though, I'm going to be easy on myself and forgive myself for having a hard time with past hurts and memories and those goddamn films that roll through my head when I let my guard down.
Enough.
K.
I'll try and put in some good things here because I don't want to be all Dark and everything but...
It's been a rough few days.
My Awesome Guy said, "It never really goes away." and he's right. I've been emotionally exhausted, physically exhausted, and I had a rather intense therapy session this evening, with my Awesome Guy in attendance.
Triggers are fascinating things. All by themselves, they're innocuous. But as any person who has PTSD or have gone through some trauma, add, mix, and BOOM!
I don't know how other people deal with their triggers blowing them out of the water, but I can tell you I hang on for dear life. It's like being on one of those extreme rides at the Fair...the ones that have you upside down and inside out and are fast and disorientating. I see the people on these rides and some of them are hanging on with white knuckles, screaming all the while. I hear you, pals, I hear you.
I have never been on one of those rides; they scare the living poo out of me, to be honest. I have a young son who absolutely *loves* thrill rides and those rides beckon to him with all the allure of the daredevil thrills and chills the ride promises. He's gone on rides that have me doing the screaming meemies from THE GROUND. Watching on terra firma and gazing upwards at him, seeing him *laugh*. Insanity, I tells you. :)
But this. The strong, subconscious side of me (which I have named Bear) has blocked any dreams. Dreams that are also triggering for me have been, somehow, set aside. I have dreamt odd dreams the past couple of nights but not the dreams I'd feared dreaming. I wake up with relief that I didn't have to relive those memories. Instead, I am *exhausted* physically and emotionally, I've been in a free for all.
I have cried way too much the past couple of days. Tears well up in my eyes for no reason at all and I assure my sons that it isn't them and that yes, hugs and kisses for their momma is plenty appreciated. I have received many hugs and kisses and that's helped a lot.
I am grateful for my Awesome Guy's understanding. He knows what I'm feeling and why I'm feeling and he holds me while I cry and he lets me scream out my rage and he expresses his own feelings about the triggers and what's happened to make me feel so fragile and unsafe.
I'm safe in my house, true. But I'm as fragile as a leaf in the wind. I cringe around strangers. I don't want to be around people I don't know and don't trust and when I picked up pizza for dinner tonight, I retreated to the corner to wait for my order. I noted that I was where no one could come up behind me, I could watch all around me and my back was protected. Check, check, and check.
This will pass, of course. It will fade away and I'll be less hesitant. But right now, while the emotions and the memories threaten to overwhelm me, I'll take care of myself so that it passes all the quicker.
To that end, I drink cups of tea in my Christmas gift tea cup from someone I Love very much. I listen to music. I read. I sleep a lot. I am fortunate that I have this week to rest and that I don't have to pretend that I'm OK. Because I'm not OK.
I will be, though. I am strong, resilient, and I will bounce back and be my old self once more.
Until then, though, I'm going to be easy on myself and forgive myself for having a hard time with past hurts and memories and those goddamn films that roll through my head when I let my guard down.
Enough.
K.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Happy New Year's!
Ye gods.
It is now 2011. The year before the HUGE Apocalypse. Either that or the Mayans were really referring to some rave party that will involve everyone on the planet getting snorkled on organic mushrooms and waving glo sticks around.
Holla!
*cough*
Maybe. I am not worrying about it, though. Ignore the 50 cases of bottled water in the corner.
It's occurred to me that I haven't been writing like I've wanted to. There has been so much goodness to talk about and to share and I have been remiss. I apologize.
I started college full time this past fall and let me tell you, THAT was a revelation and a half. I have been out of school for 20 years....longer than I had been *in* school and I discovered a few things about myself this time around.
1. I am a piss poor student when I'm bored. I don't turn my papers in on time or do the assignments on time or just...generally, say, what the hell?? And let it go.
2. When I really like a class, I go for broke. There has to be balance and the balance is that I prepare like mad and do my presentations like my life depended upon it.
3. I will never ever EVER take a phy ed course that involves online work ever AGAIN. NOT EVER. It was pretty awful. I took yoga this past fall and for some reason, it also included online work. yeah, take reason number 1, add my disdain and utter lack of time management at the worst moments and stir. "BOOM!" as Ivanova said.
Despite failing Yoga (yes, yes, I did and it's a one credit class and I've learned invaluable things so hush), I managed to earn a 3.0 GPA. yeah, that's me, Ms. Powerhouse, reason Number 2.
I worked really hard in my other classes and so that helped buoy my overall grades.
Now. Spring semester is starting up in another week or two. I am taking the following:
College Writing II
Math for Idiots (that's what *I* am calling it...more on this in a moment)
Health
Intro to Sociology
OK, mon chats. So college writing II is going to be fun, I hope. Math for Idiots is the math for people who can't take even the first year's course of college level math. I freely admit that I'm one of those people to whom math and hard science just doesn't work. I have a certain quirk in which I can remember what's going on IN CLASS. I can write it all down and make notes and then, when I come home to do the homework, I open the notes and look at gibberish. *sigh* I'm not stupid, I know this. I just can't retain it.
Don't tell me it's because I'm not trying hard enough or I swear to god, I'll fucking BRAIN you. After 6 YEARS of math in middle school and high school, I know what's ticking and what isn't, thanksmuch. Math isn't my forte. That's OK.
Thankfully, I will have a tutor who will come over and help me and also I can call her and she will explain stuff over the phone and the light will hopefully go on again. Seeing as this is pre-algebra, it shouldn't be too hard.
That plus my eldest son is doing that math right now. He's doing fine in it and so....yes, if push comes to shove, I can ask my 13 year old to help his mother with her math assignments. Ah, the ignominy.
As for Health class, it's a requirement that I plan on getting through with as much grace as possible. I hope it's going to be interesting. We'll see.
And Intro do Sociology sounds good. I need it for what I'm going to school for so you can bet I'll be paying strict attention.
We'll see.
The other wild card factor is my depression. It gets worse in the winter and this winter, during the first part, it was pretty darn awful. Adding to it was the death of someone I love and cared for and that was more than enough to send me straight to my bed, not moving and certainly not going to class. (this explains the Yoga grade).
I tried to reorganize my classes better this time around, making sure I'm going to school in "blocks", ie, Tuesday and Thursday classes. That way, I can get it all done in one day instead of spread out. That ought to make it easier.
Also, if I'm falling behind because I'm fighting my Illness, I'm going to have a private meeting with my professor and explain what's going on. No excuses, of course...but being able to say, look....I'm falling apart here and I don't want to do poorly in this class but I am unable to cope well....I should have done that LAST semester but pride is a funny thing.
It cost me a decent grade in one class and I'd rather not repeat that.
It's all a learning process...and going to college is much more about learning and writing papers. It's about growing up and coping with every day life.
For me, going to college, going back to college, is a vindication. I've always known that I could do it...it just...took encouragement and support...and here I am, doing it. Going to school. Getting some pretty good grades. Learning stuff.
I will be occupied, of course, with Life. I am, after all, a mother and that's my first priority. I have two wonderful sons who are in their pre-teen and teen years and I want to be there for them, to help them navigate through those choppy waters.
I am going to be a wife, although quite frankly, I all ready feel married to my Awesome Guy but that still means I take time for him and for us.
And I have to take time for ME. I have to keep an eye on my Illness and make sure that when it flares, I can do what needs to be done to keep me on task, balanced, and able to get through the worst of it with minimal damage to my emotional state.
I think 2011 is going to be a really great year. It's a year of changes and a year of discovery. It will be a year of achievement and hard work and determination.
I know not everything is going to be easy this year. There were some very hard things that have happened recently that have broke my heart and I am getting through it with the Love and support of those around me. I am most fortunate in my Chosen family and friends.
2011 is going to fly by...I know this.
And darn it...I need to write regularly, school schedule and Life be damned. I need to record it all as it passes like quicksilver through my fingers and gleams so very briefly in the dark.
K.
It is now 2011. The year before the HUGE Apocalypse. Either that or the Mayans were really referring to some rave party that will involve everyone on the planet getting snorkled on organic mushrooms and waving glo sticks around.
Holla!
*cough*
Maybe. I am not worrying about it, though. Ignore the 50 cases of bottled water in the corner.
It's occurred to me that I haven't been writing like I've wanted to. There has been so much goodness to talk about and to share and I have been remiss. I apologize.
I started college full time this past fall and let me tell you, THAT was a revelation and a half. I have been out of school for 20 years....longer than I had been *in* school and I discovered a few things about myself this time around.
1. I am a piss poor student when I'm bored. I don't turn my papers in on time or do the assignments on time or just...generally, say, what the hell?? And let it go.
2. When I really like a class, I go for broke. There has to be balance and the balance is that I prepare like mad and do my presentations like my life depended upon it.
3. I will never ever EVER take a phy ed course that involves online work ever AGAIN. NOT EVER. It was pretty awful. I took yoga this past fall and for some reason, it also included online work. yeah, take reason number 1, add my disdain and utter lack of time management at the worst moments and stir. "BOOM!" as Ivanova said.
Despite failing Yoga (yes, yes, I did and it's a one credit class and I've learned invaluable things so hush), I managed to earn a 3.0 GPA. yeah, that's me, Ms. Powerhouse, reason Number 2.
I worked really hard in my other classes and so that helped buoy my overall grades.
Now. Spring semester is starting up in another week or two. I am taking the following:
College Writing II
Math for Idiots (that's what *I* am calling it...more on this in a moment)
Health
Intro to Sociology
OK, mon chats. So college writing II is going to be fun, I hope. Math for Idiots is the math for people who can't take even the first year's course of college level math. I freely admit that I'm one of those people to whom math and hard science just doesn't work. I have a certain quirk in which I can remember what's going on IN CLASS. I can write it all down and make notes and then, when I come home to do the homework, I open the notes and look at gibberish. *sigh* I'm not stupid, I know this. I just can't retain it.
Don't tell me it's because I'm not trying hard enough or I swear to god, I'll fucking BRAIN you. After 6 YEARS of math in middle school and high school, I know what's ticking and what isn't, thanksmuch. Math isn't my forte. That's OK.
Thankfully, I will have a tutor who will come over and help me and also I can call her and she will explain stuff over the phone and the light will hopefully go on again. Seeing as this is pre-algebra, it shouldn't be too hard.
That plus my eldest son is doing that math right now. He's doing fine in it and so....yes, if push comes to shove, I can ask my 13 year old to help his mother with her math assignments. Ah, the ignominy.
As for Health class, it's a requirement that I plan on getting through with as much grace as possible. I hope it's going to be interesting. We'll see.
And Intro do Sociology sounds good. I need it for what I'm going to school for so you can bet I'll be paying strict attention.
We'll see.
The other wild card factor is my depression. It gets worse in the winter and this winter, during the first part, it was pretty darn awful. Adding to it was the death of someone I love and cared for and that was more than enough to send me straight to my bed, not moving and certainly not going to class. (this explains the Yoga grade).
I tried to reorganize my classes better this time around, making sure I'm going to school in "blocks", ie, Tuesday and Thursday classes. That way, I can get it all done in one day instead of spread out. That ought to make it easier.
Also, if I'm falling behind because I'm fighting my Illness, I'm going to have a private meeting with my professor and explain what's going on. No excuses, of course...but being able to say, look....I'm falling apart here and I don't want to do poorly in this class but I am unable to cope well....I should have done that LAST semester but pride is a funny thing.
It cost me a decent grade in one class and I'd rather not repeat that.
It's all a learning process...and going to college is much more about learning and writing papers. It's about growing up and coping with every day life.
For me, going to college, going back to college, is a vindication. I've always known that I could do it...it just...took encouragement and support...and here I am, doing it. Going to school. Getting some pretty good grades. Learning stuff.
I will be occupied, of course, with Life. I am, after all, a mother and that's my first priority. I have two wonderful sons who are in their pre-teen and teen years and I want to be there for them, to help them navigate through those choppy waters.
I am going to be a wife, although quite frankly, I all ready feel married to my Awesome Guy but that still means I take time for him and for us.
And I have to take time for ME. I have to keep an eye on my Illness and make sure that when it flares, I can do what needs to be done to keep me on task, balanced, and able to get through the worst of it with minimal damage to my emotional state.
I think 2011 is going to be a really great year. It's a year of changes and a year of discovery. It will be a year of achievement and hard work and determination.
I know not everything is going to be easy this year. There were some very hard things that have happened recently that have broke my heart and I am getting through it with the Love and support of those around me. I am most fortunate in my Chosen family and friends.
2011 is going to fly by...I know this.
And darn it...I need to write regularly, school schedule and Life be damned. I need to record it all as it passes like quicksilver through my fingers and gleams so very briefly in the dark.
K.
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