The Blow Up

After years of anticipation, planning and blogging the blow up with Mom finally happened!!  It was successful to me and I feel 100 times better.  I no longer give a damn if I hurt her feelings.  The rules have been laid out and she knows what is and is not acceptable.  I no longer have to worry about being the ass end of her "jokes".  I don't have to worry about being criticized wrongly for everything I do or do not do.  It is an amazing feeling to have my life in my complete control.  I am thrilled to know that I am a strong enough person now and I can defend myself and not feel bad about it.  It's good to know that she expects to be nailed for acting like a dumb ass.

I won't have to hear anymore crap about how I raise my kid.  About my relationship, my sexuality, my fertility, my finances, my personal habits.  There will be no more rage about my independence from her or from my family.  There will be no more questioning my decisions or giving of unsolicited advice.

And what's even better is she knows I will tell her when she has stepped over the boundary.  And she will have to accept it and respect it.  I can breathe now. It feels so damn good to be rid of that baggage.   Oh so good.

A week I would rather sleep thru

I've been away from the computer and phone for about 3-4 days now.  It's been nice. I've come to realize I am battling a bit of depression for the time being.  It's not making things very easy right now.  I am trying to do things that keep me in good spirits, but it doesn't help much and I am feeling pretty withdrawn.

Onto even worse matters. My mother will be here tomorrow for a week.  I feel like I don't really want to host her.  I am already make the list in my head of things that I know she is going to open her fat mouth about.  For the most part I always smile and brush it off, but to be frank I no longer have the patience to do so.  I am afraid I  may very well snap at the first unwelcome comment.  But why shouldn't I?  I am an adult and I don't need her trying to tell me otherwise.  I still feel like I would rather go to sleep for a week and wake up once she is gone.

I guess I will keep you updated.   Here is my list of things I know she is gonna bitch about, we will compare my accuracy next week.

Aiden's teeth(we have serious dental work this week)
Any kind of discipline
The amount or lack there of food in my house-for God's sake it just me and Aiden.
Aiden's messy room
Pre School(she likes to act like no one can care for him)
My attitude
Holidays and when I tell her I am not going home for Christmas
The Hagdorns
Me not being married to Skip
My failed pregnancy
My lack of compassion for her bullshit issues at home
My Honesty about her bullshit issues at home
Money and how she thinks I don't make enough
The fact that my garden isnt done and Aiden is going to have long term side effects.


Thats just the ones that come to mind.  I'm sure the actual list will be much more extensive.  If I am lucky she wont want to come back for a long time.  I don't intend to make this trip a damn fairy tale for her.

Just some fun with Skip's boots

Took this pic today. I like it.

I just feel pissed that I can't have petty issues.

He's only been gone for 9 weeks.  I am already feeling like it's been forever since he has been home.  I am just sitting here in my kitchen crying because I hate spending nite after nite alone with no one here so share life with. Sometimes I just feel so miserable about it all and I question myself on how I am going to do this again.  I don't get to see him until January, 3 months before the end of a year long deployment.  I feel so screwed.  We get to talk everyday on the messenger, but I hate sometimes that more than half our relationship has been spent doing that.  I fall apart every time he says good nite and logs off. He talks to me for over an hour everyday after he has been working for 14 on as little as 4 hours of sleep.  My heart breaks for him.

 I get frustrated.  I get angry at everyone's petty problems.  I hate seeing what everyone has and what they should be thankful for and they are too blind to see it.  They are so caught up in their own bullshit and they can't just be joyful for what they have, even if it seems small.

I would be thrilled if my only heartache was Yoshi  and the damn cat dropping coat around my house or that Aiden had a stuffy nose.  What I would give to feel like the driver next to me was a jerk and that I had places to go and people to meet.  But no.  I get the joy of not having to worry about all that.  I sit glued to my BlackBerry waiting for it to ding announcing Skip has logged into yahoo messenger.  My biggest upset is when his internet isn't working.  I panic if my data goes out.  Every email that isn't his I sit slumped with disappointment.  If he doesn't log in on time I start checking for news stories about Iraq to make sure he hasn't been blown up or something.  If he doesn't log in at all I start pacing, I don't sleep and I send him a million emails thinking somehow he's going to magically answer.

What I would give to have him here irritating me.  I am thankful I can appreciate him every time he screws up. It's not worth fighting because I know we don't have enough time to fight.  Yea, I just sit here and cry thinking of everything we are missing together and feeling mad at everyone for wasting what precious time they have and they chose to waste it on petty bullshit.  It pissed me off when people can't stop and see that.  If only my life could be wasted on such garbage.

I wish I had the pleasure.  I wish I could lack any appreciation for his flaws,  I wish I could be mad at him for not doing things how I want them or hate that he's his own person.  Nope I got screwed with the ability to understand and embrace all that.  I am screwed smiling when he does things that piss me off.  I got stuck laughing whenever he tells me I'm cute when I am mad.  I got short changed in the ability to hold a grudge or to dwell on his short comings.  I am forced to think before I speak and to weigh things against the "is it really worth it" factor. I have been given no will power to bend him into something else.  No, I have none of that.

All because I am forced to know what really matters, because the words I said to him last could be what he dies with on his mind.  The way I make him feel could determine how he sleeps that nite.  The things I do might make or break his already elevated stress levels.   I can't enjoy life's petty issues because I have been forced to learn they don't matter.

But hey, I'm happy everyone else has so much to keep them entertained.

Photo Blog

Got a new lens today.  Good for portraits and has very shallow depth of field capabilities.  So I am pretty excited.  First shots 

Some decent communication would be nice

Of the past 50 months, Skip has spent 27 here in the United States.  Is it really too much to ask our government to provide some decent communication?  Communication that he doesn't have to spend a fortune on only to have it work half the time, or to have to wait in line for hours to use a phone for 20 minutes.

Or maybe I am asking too much.  I mean he did volunteer to protect our country and everything.  Oh wait, that's not what he is doing.  So ya, step up and provide.

Frustrated

Hating Food

I have a blog with a friend of mine and we are currently doing some reading and discovering some things about food and our lives.  I wanted to post this one here today as well because after long thought and consideration it really is a big part of me and I feel like I should be sharing it.  So enjoy.  It's a little brutal.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 12, 2010

I Hate Food

Yes, I have said it. I hate food. I don't dislike the taste or eating. I actually dislike food itself because it's stressful to me. It does not actually bring me any comfort or pleasure. I wish I could sit down to a meal or snack and have it make me happy, have it satisfy me. It never really does however. My stomach might feel full, but I often feel as empty as my plate. I don't know what I just got out of the meal I ate.

Most people have families that grew and shared happiness around a meal and in the kitchen. It was a joyous family event to cook a big meal and sit down together and enjoy what they just created. They might sit at the table and converse about their day or at holidays share family stories. I would imagine food could be a great and happy thing, only I don't actually know what any of that is like.

In my home meal time meant stress. Mom was always slamming cabinets and cursing. It was always hurried. She cooked everything on HI to get it out on the table as fast as possible. Things would be boiling over and she'd be yelling at it. As I got older and was expected to help in the kitchen. I really didn't like to cook. I didn't like to be around all that craziness. It was loud and unbearable, even if I was only stirring gravy or noodles. I just wanted to hide in my room and wait for it to end! Holiday cooking, oh forget it! That was HOURS AND HOURS of Hell! And it would usually start days before with mom bitching at my dad about having to cook this big and perfect meal. To this day any time she is in the kitchen it is like this. Huffing and puffing and cursing. Making faces and throwing an attitude around. I can't stand it.

Now sitting down to a meal, again a nitemare. Mom would always have us sitting down and serving ourselves before she even bothered to sit at the table. I think sometimes she would stand in the kitchen and cry before coming to the table. We never spoke while we ate and we all ate as fast as we could to make sure the table was getting cleared and dishes were being done before my dad got up from the table. I don't know what the reason behind this was. If there was conversation it was usually my dad getting mad at my brother or me about something mom told him we had done. The stress was still the same if we went out to eat. We all sat there in silence. It was always a big deal to figure out what we wanted on the menu. Mom would freak out if the waiter came to ask us how we were doing before we knew what we wanted. We always ate in silence and shoveled it in again as fast as we could so we could leave. When I was 10 we were out having breakfast one morning and my dad hit me in the face from across the table to remove the fork from my hand and mouth. He proceeded to yell at me about how I was eating like a savage and then yelled at my mom about not teaching me how to eat properly. I didn't know that I was holding my fork wrong. No one ever told me any better. I was forced the rest of the day to eat with my hands like a baby since I didn't know how to use utensils.

I spent the first week of every month while I had braces eating alone at a different table. It was very painful to chew and my dad said it was disgusting to watch me eat. No one ever made me anything that was easy to chew. I would cry at the thought of having to eat. The pain was awful. Half the time I would just move things around my plate and not eat because I couldn't.

Holidays at family was much the same. Everyone getting bent out of shape about having to cook such a large meal. By the time everyone would sit down they were too exhausted from their ordeals to even look like they were enjoying what they were shoveling into their mouths. There were never compliments given about what had been cooked. Just words about how this or that could have been better. This is too dry, that is cold. Blah blah blah. My best holiday was Thanksgiving 2009 with Skip. It was just us, we made a small bird and some extras and watched Survivor on the computer at our kitchen table. There was no cursing, no stress. I never felt so much relief about a holiday in my life.

I even hate to fill my house with food because of the shopping trip. While it is better now, I still feel confused and I often don't really want to go. Chris and I always went with mom. We had to hold on to the cart and say nothing. Ask for nothing. She would march through the commissary like a crazy women with a list. We would get the end with our tongues dragging only to listen to her bitch about how much she had to spend to feed us. Chris and I were never involved with the shopping or planning. To this day I still struggle to understand what I am doing. Mom still freaks out about shopping. She still tells me that I am not able to shop for myself. But that's for other reasons that don't belong here.

So that's my lifetime of food pain in a nutshell. Dinner now is never stressful, but I still don't enjoy it the same way Skip does. Yes, it tastes great. Yes, I feel good to be sharing my table with him. But I still finish and stare at my empty plate and have no idea if I am satisfied. I eat fast so that I can just get it over with. I can have my plate cleared and rinsed in the washer before Skip is done with his first helping. He tastes every bit of food he eats and food makes him happy. I don't understand it. I don't cook on HI anymore and I don't worry about everything being perfectly coordinated at finish time. We never slam things or curse when we are cooking. And we never have a set time a meal has to be ready. But I still don't fully enjoy what we have created together. It really sucks.

And before now, I can say I never really thought about it