Fuck You

25 + years.
Lies.
Manipulation.
Abuse.

I took it all in, and tried to be better for you. It's what you said I needed to do. It was never enough. I was never enough.

It's been 27 days since the direct abuse stopped. Every day, things get a little clearer. This time I'm in charge of the silent treatment.

My efforts weren't the problem. Your ego was.

I started planning for our marriage to be over the day I tried to commit suicide and you were off doing coke with your friends and talking to some other female. I was so pissed. Not at you. But at myself because I didn't die that day. I was so disappointed that I had failed at yet another thing that would have made you happy.

But fuck you. I didn't die that day because that's the day I started living for myself. That's the day I realized that all the years of believing that you were my savior and that you'd always have my back were a big, fat, fucking lie. I was nothing more than someone who would always owe you something. That's not love. That's ownership. Like a car you put time and money into, you expected me to perform to your standards. You forced me to leave my standards behind, to live a life of constant lies and betrayal and abuse.

Every time I fought back, you broke me down a little more. Every time I begged you just to love ME, you lied and said you did. But the unrealistic expectations never stopped. I told you over and over, I'll never be who you want me to be.

I used to think that made me less than you. I used to believe that I wasn't good enough for you. But that's not the case at all. The reason there was so much strife was because the little girl who learned to fight against the abuse as a child was in there screaming to keep me going. She reminded me often that just because I didn't meet your standards didn't mean I had no value. It meant that YOU didn't value me.

That's no longer my problem. I don't need your false validation. I don't owe you a fucking thing. You've taken plenty already.

I value me. My friends value me.
I will come out ahead. Not ahead of you, because I don't really care to compete with your grandiose sense of self any longer. But I'll come out ahead of where I was yesterday. And tomorrow, I'll be even better. 

So you take your drugs, your lies, your slander, your flat out fucking weirdness, and find a new piece of property because I'm not it.

Fuck. You.

It's Not What You Think

In light of the suicide of Robin Williams, there's so much chatter and "professional" opinions flying around about depression, anxiety, mental illness, and substance abuse.

Well, here's my experience...

Have you ever been lied to, found out the truth, tried to forgive, only to realize that the relationship will never be the same?

That's what happens in my head. My depression and anxiety lie to me about my abilities to cope and function.

Has anyone ever stood in your face for hours on end and relentlessly called you names and told you how unworthy you are and reminded you of every mistake you've ever made... but instead of little mistakes, they make them all out to be catastrophic? And no matter how much you cry and beg them to stop saying those things, and no matter how much you defend yourself and can logically throw proof at the accusations, you just can't stop hearing the bad stuff?

That's also what happens in my head. I build myself up, but can tear myself down in an instant.

Have you ever had an idea that you were positive would work, but everyone had a million reasons why it was a bad idea. And their reasons only seemed to serve them and doesn't solve or remedy your situation? Guilt, that's what you're left with, which only tailspins you into feeling more defeated.

That's what it's like to think about suicide.

I'm currently in therapy 3 times a week trying to reconcile everything in my head. I'm at a very severe point in my depression. My anxiety is keeping me from functioning properly. I've tried to "suck it up". I realize "everyone has problems". I'm not "weak". I'm not a "coward". I understand that "people love me" and I know I "would leave a mess". If everyone saying all those things about this disease could only comprehend how much we've swirled all those things around in our minds. I can physically feel the pain and agony my thoughts are causing. I'm consumed with trying to dig myself out of one of the darkest holes I've ever been in. I cry trying to get myself out of bed in the morning. My chest hurts constantly. My heart races. It's hard to breathe. My hair falls out. And I'm fighting to stay alive. There's nothing cowardly about this fight. And there's nothing weak about giving in and ending it all. I will acknowledge that it's a choice to end one's life, which indicates that there's another option. But to a depressed person, suicide becomes the lesser of two evils, the choice that will make the noise in one's head shut down. You have no idea how loud and chaotic it is in here.

I'm doing what I can for myself and my family right now. I've lost my way a little but I don't plan on giving up until I find the right road for us.

Stop judging. Stop voicing your harsh words. Be a friend instead. You can't stop someone who's determined to hurt themselves, but don't let the last words someone hears from you be harsh and unforgiving.

I'm not lazy or crazy.

We've all had the flu or a hangover that's lasted a few days. You feel sick, weak,  antisocial, worn out, achy, etc. No one ever says, "Man, this is a blast! I could do this every day for the rest of my life!!"

Guess what? That's what chronic illness is. Fibro, lupus, thyroid disease, depression, anxiety... the list is long.

For those of us who suffer (and yes, it's suffering) from any of them, we hate it even more than the people who have expectations of us.

I guess I can't speak for everyone, but I know I'm not a loser. I didn't choose this. I don't want to isolate from my friends. I don't want to miss work and appointments. I don't like begging myself to pull it together so everyone isn't let down by me. I'd love to just do something different and change the way I think so I can be as productive as so and so. I think it would be cool to be normal. I would really like to focus on anything but my symptoms.... which, by the way, I'm not faking. I try to ignore them and convince myself it's all in my head. When that doesn't cure them, my brain goes into overdrive. Maybe I AM just crazy. Maybe I AM doing this to myself. But why? Why would I sabotage myself on purpose? Am I really thinking myself into numb, swollen hands with blisters? What about the headache and SEVERE fatigue? I slept 8-12 hours last night. There's no reason I should be equally as tired as when I went to bed, right? The hair loss is all me too? The sores in my mouth? The chest pain? The muscle aches? The joint pain and swelling? I'm obviously doing this to myself, like everyone thinks and insinuates and blurts out in arguments over my laziness...

Yeah, that's it. I'm 38 years old. I WANT to spend the next (God willing) 35 years feeling like I have the flu. I want to be weak, mentally, emotionally, and physically... because anyone who's ever spent 5 minutes with me would describe me just like that? I love not being able to focus on the task at hand and losing control of my body and life. I love losing friends who think I'm ditching them because I'm a jerk. I relish in the idea of yet ANOTHER Dr appointment where the highly educated professional won't listen to ME because my "numbers" are normal. It's pretty fun. I celebrate every appointment with a full blown panic attack. And then, I muster every single drop of energy I have to complete one task, to start a new habit, to attempt a better routine. I'm zapped, but I pull it off for a while. Then the crash happens. I'm physically exhausted, I'm mentally drained, I'm emotionally lost, and everyone around me is let down because I'm a hypochondriac who can't keep herself together.

(Please read that previous paragraph in a sarcasm font.)

I did not choose this, but I will choose to do what I can, when I can. And I'll choose to back away from anything that is too big for me to handle.  And I'll choose to untie anyone who doubts me, is unkind to me, lacks understanding, or is just a doodyhead in general, because I just don't need it. I will only surround myself with people who are honest and supportive and encouraging. That's what I deserve.

~h

Family Values

As I was growing up, I was fed the idea of family values. Stick together. Blood is thicker than water. Parents. Siblings. Cousins. Aunts. Uncles. Grandparents. There were supposed to be no boundaries to who was accepted into the family. No such thing as outsiders. Steps and halves weren't mentioned.

A good gust of wind has blown that house of cards all over the lawn. It makes me sad to think that the people who constantly preached to me about sticking together are the very same people who have the ability to shun their own family. They can shut out and gossip about family members because they don't do what is expected of them. They make life choices that don't do any harm to anyone, but simply don't coincide with someone else's definition of right and wrong.

I guess I'm no different because I've shut out those doing the shutting out. I've feared being shut out for not being who my family wants me to be. I've learned self acceptance and self sufficiency, but not because it was taught in my family values lessons. I learned it out of self preservation. Family approval would be great, but it's never been necessary for me to move forward with my life. I'll continue to be who I need to be for myself. If it's not your way, move over because I'll run you down to get you out of my way.

You Can't Take These

I've been thinking a lot about my tattoos lately. Recently I decided I wanted the backs of my hands done. My initial reaction to myself was, "Oh my God, you can't do that, people will think you're a fruit."

Uh.  What!?

I can do whatever I want. Simply because *I* said so. So the decision has been made. I'll be doing my hands with two beautiful designs that mean something to me.

Then I got to thinking about how best to explain my tattoos to others. Believe it or not, I get asked. I think it's strange because I'd NEVER dream of walking up to someone and saying, "What the hell were you thinking with that haircut!?"

While chit chatting with a client today, it came to me. These tattoos are my story. They are my photographs. They are my memories. I choose them. I'm in control of them. No one can go through this diary without my permission, and even then, they'll only get the excerpts I choose. No one can take them from me. No one can twist them and make them something they're not, no matter what insults or queer looks are thrown my way.

I'm bold enough to wear my story on the outside for all to see, while many of you live in your sick secret-infested lies. That might work for you, but it'll never be me.

Time to Get it Together

After a morning text chat with a friend...you know who you are, thanks!...I've had an epiphany about my anxiety.

I've felt "weird" about the spa for several months.  (And I can't believe it's been MONTHS already.)  But I get very nervous and anxious and panicky whenever it's time to go there.  I feel like a child who just wants to shut her eyes until it's over with, because if I can't see it, it's not happening.

The spa is where I got The Phone Call.  The You-Have-Cancer phone call.  I LOVED that place before that phone call.  I would sit in there for hours doing absolutely NOTHING.  Now I feel afraid to be there.  I love my clients and miss them dearly.  And when I think back to all the work that I put into the spa, I feel terrible for neglecting it.

It's time to get it together.  It's time to make that place mine again.  It's time to get back to loving my safe place.  It's not the spa's fault I happened to be there when the call came in.  So now I've got to get back in there and make more good memories to overshadow the one crappy one.  I will not let my little slice of Heaven on Earth be ruined by one ringy dingy.

I'm thankful for everyone who's been patient with me and my sickies.  Hope to see you all soon!

<3 H

Cherry Coke Lake

As I sat in the waiting area of my new oncologist's office I watched hairless, one breasted, sickly looking women pass by me.  There were others around us, but this group is who I noticed.  Of course I felt the compassion one is supposed to feel when one sees living, breathing proof that the world is a cruel place.  I felt sad and scared for them.  I felt pity, as much as I tried not to.  I felt like hugging each and every one of them.  I didn't, instead I said a quick prayer for each of them as they passed me.  My prayers weren't for a cure.  Instead I prayed for each of them to find the inner strength to feel completely at peace with wherever they are in their cancer journeys.

(I also prayed for that wretched Taylor Swift song to end, it seemed so loud and endless...holy cow, purely selfish prayer, I know.)

I'm what I like to call a survivalist.  Not in the sense that you all know the word; living off the land and armed to the hilt.  Unless Fudge Rounds grow on a bush and there's a Cherry Coke Lake, I'm screwed.  And the only artillery I have is my gift of completely inappropriate humor and the ability to drop it like a bomb at the worst possible moment.  But mentally and emotionally, I've always been able to pull myself together and move forward in spite of any barriers I've faced.  Sometimes it takes longer and sometimes I get pretty low mentally before I can get back up, but I can make it happen.

Cancer is going to be different.  I can tell.  My body is going to overcome this bastard of a disease, but my emotions have taken a beating I'm not sure they can come back from. I've experienced anxiety before, nothing like this.  I know most of you have seen "The Shoes"...those started out as a funny cancer joke since I pulled my Cancer Card to justify buying them.  But now they've become my courage to leave the house, much like a preschooler might wear a cape to make him feel strong when he's scared.  I've regressed to the point of a cape for my feet.  Intellectually, I know I'm the one who assigned this significance to them.  Emotionally, I've realized it was necessary.  That scares me.  I'm afraid of being afraid.

While chatting with a friend today, who's been through exactly what I'm going through right now, this statement struck a nerve, "I'll tell you what, cancer is bullshit.  Even when it's gone, you never feel safe.  Every headache, pain or pinch, you wonder if it's cancer.  Cancer is emotional and mental rape."   (I won't say who, because her story isn't mine to share, but feel free to take credit for the quote, You-Know-Who.)  This is exactly how I feel.  I know there will come a day when all of this isn't so fresh and isn't in the forefront of my mind.  And I will be (and am currently) grateful that I'm physically better than I started.  And I'm grateful for all of the support I'm receiving from so many.  And I don't expect anyone to have any answers or to wave a magic wand to make my Feels Bads all better.  And there's absolutely nothing that any one of you has said or could say that is the "the wrong thing to say".  It feeds my soul to hear from all of you, cards, dinners, prayers, laughs, shared expletives...I love it all.  

Please don't feel bad for me.  I haven't suddenly become fragile.  I'm still me, hold the thyroid and add extra neurosis on the side!   I think I'm only telling this part of my story because the more I read and more people I meet with cancer, this is their story too.  It's cruel and unusual punishment.  We must find a way to learn from it.  We just have to...

<3 H

Really??

So are you all tired of hearing about this stuff yet?  I think I'm mostly writing this stuff for me to reflect on later, but I have been answering the same questions a lot, so I'll try to share it here.  (Not that I mind the communication with everyone!!!)  I hope I'm not driving anyone nuts, well more nuts that I usually do!

I had the drain tube removed today, which is good.  I got put on two weeks of bed rest, which is bad.  I have numbness in both arms.  My hands are tingly.  This really hinders my plans to go back to work, in more ways than one!  As part of my job, I should really be able to feel my hands, so let's pray this is just a temporary thing.  And...TWO WEEKS?!?!?!  For the love of peanut butter, that's a long time.

Taken Over

Some of you have already read this because I've been sharing it privately a bit over the last day or so...but I'm so overwhelmed with it, it's just bubbling over.

So many changes have happened in my life in the last couple years.  Some good.  Some bad.  I've had some difficult relationship issues with friends and family.  Some have stayed, some have left...and some have just taken up residence in my heart, others are closer to me than ever before.  I've come full circle with a career choice that I love (and thankfully a forgiving boss ;) ) and should the need arise, I can be completely self sustaining.

And now this cancer business.  I was angry for a bit, then sad, then scared...all the normal things you'd expect.  But now I've been taken over by gratitude.  I'm grateful that I've allowed myself to let go of so much of my mistrust of the world.  I don't feel constantly cynical of all things mushy.  I'm thankful that I've allowed myself to let out all the kindness that I usually feel on the inside.  This has allowed all the other things to fall into place.  I believe all the changes over the last couple years have happened for a reason.  I believe it's been a gift to me so that I might be able to manage the things happening to my family right now.  All the tumultuous garbage and things I thought I couldn't handle made me tough enough to handle the worst possible thing I could ever imagine facing.

I just believe now.  I just have faith now.  I believe, once again, that I'm going through what I'm supposed to be going through.  I don't believe I deserve the bad, but I do believe I deserve the gifts I've been given.  My self-made family, my dream of my own business, my loving husband and children, and the rest of my support system.  I deserve those things.  And because I'm thankful for them, I know they're here to stay.

There are some other fairly scary issues happening right now.  They're not my details to share, but please know that my family would appreciate and accept any and all good thoughts and prayers and magic and whatever it is you're into to get us through the next few months.

Much Love,
~H

What You Can't See

Almost every single person I know has commented about me being the strongest person he/she knows.

I *AM* a pretty tough cookie.  But there are things happening to me that no one is seeing.  I'm suddenly afraid.  Scared of the world around me.  Scared of pity.  Scared of being alone.  Scared of being sick.  Scared of being scared. When it comes time to leave the house for any reason now, I shake uncontrollably from the anxiety.  I want to be home.  ALL. THE. TIME. It's safe here.  I can keep people out or let people in.  I like it here.

But I'll continue to make myself leave the house and surround myself with my friends and people who love me because I'm no quitter.  And I've seen what pure seclusion can do to me.

I have noticed that I pay more attention to people around me now.  I wonder who has cancer or anxiety or who just lost their mother or is fighting to save a relationship...but has forced themselves to continue on with the mundane tasks of plain ol' life that we all complain about.  We all see and have relationships, no matter how fleeting, with the people around us.

I'm reminded, and now I'm reminding you:

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. ~Plato, Greek author and philosopher in Athens (427 BC-347 BC)

I Thought it was Gas

After talking to a friend this morning, who has a friend whose mother passed away from thyroid cancer, it occurred to me that if I had not gone to the emergency room earlier this month, I wouldn't know I have cancer.  It would still be growing and possibly spreading like it belonged there.

I've been diagnosed with depression and anxiety, so anytime I go to the doctor, many of my symptoms are passed off as psychosomatic.  September 4, 2012 was no different.  I had chest pains, bad chest pains and a lot of pressure behind my sternum.  Of course I Googled, but that can be scarier than just going to the doctor.  So I called my family doctor and spoke with the nurse.  She recommended that I go to the ER, but wanted to consult with the doc. She came back on the line and said the doc just wanted me to to come into urgent care because it was most likely my anxiety.  Of course.

I showered and hopped in the car to head to the urgent care.  But something in my gut told me to go straight to the ER.  I felt kind of stupid because it was probably just anxiety and a little gas.  (seriously, I didn't tell anyone because I thought I had to burp.) But it hurt!  When I get to the ER, they stick me straight in a trauma room for chest pain.  I heard people come and go all day on the other side of my curtains.  I was given everything they pass out for heart attack symptoms and they began running a full gamut of tests centered around my "cardiac health".  After nine hours in the ER, it was decided that I would stay because my heart rate wouldn't stay up and the pain was still there.  

During the course of my 3 day stay at Hotel Mercy Hospital, when they couldn't find anything wrong with my heart but the pain and weird heart rates and blood pressures persisted, they ran more tests.  THANK GOD they did.  THANK GOD I listened to my body.  

1780, One thousand seven hundred eighty, people are estimated to die from thyroid cancer this year.  That doesn't seem like much when compared to other cancers.  And my chance of survival is astronomical compared to other cancers.

But when my kids compare their mom to that number, it's freaky because they only have one mom, my husband only has one wife, and my mom only has one kid.  I have things left to do, so I'm not going anywhere anytime soon...but things would be different if I'd listened to my first call to my doctor.

And when you receive paperwork in the mail that actually has the words "Diagnosis: Thyroid Cancer" hand written under your name...you start to wish that you'd get paper cuts on your eye balls, because it feel much better in that moment.

All I Wanted Was a Sweet Neck Scar!

As most of you know, I had surgery last week to remove the left lobe of my thyroid.  I got the call today that I never wanted to answer and I'm making a blog about what I never thought I would.  But I feel like I need to purge this from my insides so that I can move on.

Cancer.  Like real cancer.  In me.  Gross.  Just effin gross.

I don't recall very many details of the phone call from the surgeon, but I knew as soon as I heard HIS voice and not a nurse's it was bad news.  I told him I didn't want to talk to him.  He told me..."something, something, something, 3 cancerous tumors in the piece we've taken out, something, something, the rest MUST come out in the next few weeks, something, something, good prognosis, something, call Rhonda to schedule your next surgery and we'll go from there."

No seriously, that's all I remember.  You can ask the same questions 50 more times, but I really don't know anything else.  And frankly, I'm pissed off and tired of crying about it.  So this will have to serve as the details until I learn more.

My next surgery is Wednesday, October 3rd.

But for now, please, please, please pray for my husband and my kids.  Not for me, for them.  I just want them to be okay through all of this, no matter what the outcome is going to be.

<3

You.

It used to cripple me when you didn't show up for things that were important to me.  Now I just laugh, because I saw it coming.  My success is happening despite your lack of presence.

I used to blame myself;  If I was different, if I did more to fit in, if I was better at sucking up, if I was better at being needy...but now I realize that's not my responsibility.  I don't owe you any of those things.  Your role in my life dictates the complete opposite.  YOU'RE the failure at life, not me.

I enjoy being me.  I accept me.  I will continue to grow.  And if that never has anything to do with you, I'm okay with that.

Are you?

Letting go.....(just transferring some stuff)

I'm not writing this to shame or embarrass anyone in my family, although I'm sure it will.  But I will not apologize for that.  I've carried enough shame and guilt and ugliness inside me to last 10 lifetimes.  No one apologizes to me.  Don't mistake this for bitterness, rather it's just fact.

I'm not writing this to ask for any sort of pity, that truly is the last thing I desire.  I actually hate when I tell my story and get "the looks," as if people's eyes speak to me saying, "oh, you poor thing."  There's nothing really poor or downtrodden about me.  Matter of fact, I'm one of the toughest people I know.  I can pull myself out of ANYTHING and walk tall.  Sure, I have moments of insecurity and unsuredness, but who doesn't?  I've spent the last 10 years learning about myself and human behavior.  I can finally say I think I understand what behaviors I have that are normal for the society we live in and what behaviors I carry because of my past.

I'm not writing this to shock and awe anyone.  This situation doesn't call for that.  My real goal here is to shed some light on the reality that is sexual abuse.  I want people to realize that it can happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere....and sadly, with anyone. I won't name names, but I will tell you that the familial closeness of the people who hurt me would turn most of your worlds upside down.  But that is biggest reality, people you least suspect on the outside are the biggest predators.  I will call to each of you to please pay attention.  Don't ignore your gut.  And don't let shame, guilt or fear rule who you keep your eye on.  

I'll avoid graphic details of the abuse, but the worst of the things you've heard about sexual abuse, I'm likely to have experienced.  I had a total of 5 offenders.  I can remember abuse as far back as 4(ish) years of age.  And the last experience I had with being violated, I was 16 years old.  I knew every single one of the people who hurt me.  They were close to my whole family.  I trusted them.  I actually cared about them....all of them.  They were all older than me and had a responsibility to protect me and lead me.  They failed.  They showed me an ugly world full of scary people who would never do anything but fail me.

I've relived the fear, the terror, the revulsion, the horror, the humilation, the worthlessness and the helplessness over and over and over, in every aspect of my life.  I've lived without feeling control over my body or my mind for as long as I can remember.  I've hated my body my whole life. It betrayed me.  I hated my mind because of the feelings, the constant internal battles over good and evil.  Somehow, in my young mind, I was always the evil one.  My own mind convinced me of that, and my perpetrators reinforced it.  As I've grown, I've learned that there was nothing wrong with me though.  However, there was very much something wrong with the people who hurt me, the people who knew and failed to protect me, and the people who blamed me for my bad behavior.  Of course I acted bad.  Of course I acted angry.  Of course I acted out.  I felt bad, I was angry, and I needed the release.  I needed the attention, I just didn't know how to get it...not the right way anyway.  I didn't know the words to say what was happening to me, and even after I learned the words, I felt so much guilt using them.  I was unsure in my own mind if I was making this stuff up, I was unsure if I'd be believed, I was unsure it would change anything.....but most of all I was positive I'd be seen as more of a troublemaker than I already was, so silence won.  I don't know if I'll ever really be able to put the effects of all of this into words that will properly express the magnitude of the grief and anger that I've lived with because of this.  The abuse has marked my life beyond the incidents.  Mostly it took away my self confidence and my belief that I could be a good person.  I've had several failed friendships, fantisized relentlessly about ending my life to end the chaos inside, and most definitely I've distrusted ANYONE who supposedly cared about me.  I've spent years in fear, years of being unable to speak my true feelings, and years of trying to pretend the most impactful events of my existence didn't happen because they're socially unacceptable to talk about.  I've had plenty of years of self-hating.  I've resented the years of paying the price for others' wrongness.  I'm done paying.  I AM a good person.  I AM somebody.  I didn't do this to myself. I didn't make my life hard.  However, I have survived all the difficulty others have put in my way.  I am a fighter, and I'll continue to fight until the day I die to have some kind of normalcy for myself, for my husband, for my children.

I have to believe that what I went through wasn't for nothing.  Maybe that's just for survival, or maybe there is a higher power up there making life lessons out of everything.  All I know is that if I keep the secrets, I'm perpetuating the ugly cycle of abuse.  I'm sure some of you will be thinking, why on earth is she plastering this on fb??  The answer is....I have 230 friends on facebook.  Statiscally speaking, that means about 80 of you have been sexually abused at some point in your childhood.  That's why. That's why I'll share my private business all over facebook.  I'm not ashamed anymore.  And I don't want my friends to be either.

I Never Finish Anything

....until NOW.

I haven't written in a while because I've been working (and now driving) my bum off to complete massage therapy school.  I'm almost to the bottom of the hill I climbed, with just a few hours and services left to finish up.  I've now passed my finals and am awaiting word from The State offering me dates to take my board examination.

It was iffy for a while if I was even going to be able to finish.  I was in a very unhealthy environment daily at La' James in Johnston.  Too many power struggles between instructors, administrators, and students.  We weren't learning (or being taught) at the rate we should have been.  Most times, this was because we were being yanked out of our class time to do "work" for the school.  The majority of what I learned at that location, I learned on my own.  That's NOT what I signed up or PAID for!  I was starting to lose my desire to even perform massage. There was so much I didn't understand and so many techniques that I was missing out on because I was stuck in appointments all day, every day.  I was forced to perform services that I'd never even seen, let alone been taught how to do them.  (And when I say forced....I mean, do the service or go home.  I'm charged by the hour to be there, if you're not clocked in, you're still racking up hours to pay for.)

So after some serious soul searching, some crying and complaining, a fellow classmate and I decided that it would be best to transfer locations and see if we couldn't catch up and maybe get some of our passion back.   This was a HUGE leap, because the new location is 125 miles, one way, from my home.  I attend school 4 days a week, gas is roughly $3.60-$4.00 a gallon.....you do the math.  But I had to get out of there.

BEST.  CHOICE.  EVER.  I now look forward to going to school again.  I've learned more (from an instructor) and the last 2 weeks than I did the last 2 months I attended the Johnston location.  I am now able to have the classroom time I wasn't afforded before.  Instead of 8 instructors, I've had ONE and I'm confident she's not going anywhere.  I look forward to massaging again.

I've said it before, and I'll continue to say for the rest of my life.....I'll NEVER regret listening to my gut.  It's my very best friend.

Peace, Love, and Massage

~H

We all have that emotion that we could live without, the one that gets to us more than the rest, the one we struggle with.....mine is being powerless or feeling trapped.  I just don't handle it well at all.  My fight/flight goes into overdrive and I tend to overreact. As I've "matured" (he he he) I've learned this about myself.

Facing the Fat Monster

If you jiggle and you know it....clap your hands!  *Clap, Clap*

Ok, so I have more than a jiggle.  And I'm finally facing it.  I've used my fat as a shield long enough.  I don't want to make fat jokes about myself before others do anymore.  I'm tired of just accepting that THIS is how my body was meant to be.  I refuse to blame my children anymore for being overweight.  I'm my own worst enemy, so now it's time to be my own best friend.

It's going to hurt.  I'm going to whine.  But I'll tell myself the same thing I tell my kids, "I don't care how much you whine, as long as you finish the job."  Seems to work for them, logically it'll work for me.

Last night was difficult, walking into a room of already thin people thinking, "Why the hell are THEY here?!"  But after my super sobfest, I realized two things....A) It's none of my business why they're here, and B) I'm not competing against them.  I'm competing against myself.  To do better.  To be better.  For me.  Just me.

I'll never be in a bikini (stretch marks, ew!!), but I CAN/WILL shrink, tone, get fit.  Even if this means I only fit into the clothes I already own, I'm ok with that.  As long as I eat better and have more energy, I'll have succeeded.

So I'll apologize in advance for all the posts I'm sure you'll be bombarded with in the coming weeks.  Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience and support!

I love you all!

Long Time, No Blog

Since my last blog:

• One brother called once to show his "concern," but hasn't called since.  (Pffft, I knew it.)
• The other brother deleted me from facebook. (Truth hurt a bit?)
• My mother is steadily improving!!
• A family member was picked up for a mobile meth lab.  (And everyone thought I'd be bad one...)
• I've progressed to 60% finished at school.
• I've made a trip to Chicago!
• My energy for school and a new future was re-energized in The Windy City!
• And now for the BIG announcement......

I start COSMETOLOGY SCHOOL June 27th!!

Ok, back to studying muscles.

Big Loves!

~H

Coexist

A week ago tomorrow I got another tattoo.  I've lost count now, but I don't see the tattoos stopping anytime soon......no matter how many times my parents give me "the look."

My latest tattoo......

I chose this particular marking and it's location on my body very strategically.  It's a chest piece (and it's tie dye....how kickass is that?? Thanks Rick Gray !!)  I wanted it to be close to my heart because I truly believe with everything in me that there IS a way for EVERYONE on this earth to live in harmony.  It's a matter of choice.  No one says we all have to be friends.  No one says we all have to back down from our own beliefs.  But nothing is stopping us from tranquil coexistence except our own egocentric ways.

I have many friends with whom my beliefs about life, politics, religion, etc. are polar opposite.  I make a conscious effort to understand WHY they believe the way they do and why we're so different, yet I can love them regardless.  This isn't to say that I don't get a little irritated.  I LOVE just as much as anyone to jump on my Peace-Love-Harmony-we're-all-the-same-love-your-neighbor-what's-wrong-with-your-thinking soapbox.  But at the end of the day, if I have it, I'll give it, no matter who you are or what side of the fence you fall on.  I don't care what color you are, I don't care who you love, and I don't care if you're godless or God fearing or who that god might be......

It can happen.  We can make it happen. I choose to live this way, and I've chosen to raise my kids this way.  They're good little people who will do for you because it's the right thing to do.  

<3 your hippy friend,

H

Cheesy Pointless Tearfilled Blog

It's closing in on my daughter's 16th birthday.  I'm sure this won't be my only post about her in the coming weeks.  As most of you know, her big "soiree" is coming up.....so I have plenty of reminders that my baby isn't a baby anymore.

And the tears start.....

I just caught a glimpse of my beautiful daughter as she was walking into the next room.  She's built like a woman now.  I hadn't noticed it before, scary.  But as much as I'm concerned about how her body has changed, I'm MORE concerned with how her mind is changing.  Have I done the things I'm supposed to do to prepare her for life "on the outside?"  I'm not great at this little adventure myself, so how the hell am I supposed to lead anyone else through the turmoil and trials and tribulations?!?!?

I'm pretty frank with my kids about what I've gone through in life and the challenges I have created for myself.  I'm honest when I tell them that every choice we make will have consequences...good or bad.  They see me frustrated and angry at times.  My deepest hope is that they also see me digging my way out of my struggles and fighting with everything I have IN me to BE me.  I might be a quitter of many things, but I couldn't have quit any of those things if I hadn't started them in the first place.

I pray that my children will never be backed into a corner and made to feel like their insides don't match their outsides.  I hope they forge ahead and shove past anyone and anything that tries to hold them back from doing what will make them FEEL successful.  I want them to make the world fit them, not the other way around.

All this because Savannah asked me what she should make for dinner.....