Bad again?

Sometimes I’m asked “how do you know you’re getting bad again,” and I haven’t been sure how to answer until now.

As I am frantically searching for my Nintendo 2ds with cheery Christmas music playing in my ear, I feel the wave crush me. This wave is a good feeling though, it means I’m finally coming out of whatever funk had wrapped its talons around the weakness of my mind.

I see clean clothes piled in a basket. Clothes that had been left untouched because I was too busy slumming around in my pajamas. My bedside table is covered in pop bottles, all collected from my late night snacking because “I’m bored but I can’t be bothered to sleep”. The garbage can is overflowing with candy wrappers because sugar gave me an artificial hype for things that I had loved so much but now find boring.

The music playing through my headphones seem to be trying as hard as it possibly can to pull me from the depths of my own self loathing, and suddenly I’m filled with motivation. I suppose I should finish this and clean, perhaps share a picture to prove I actually did something.

Who knows, maybe I’ll let the mystery stay alive, and anyone reading this can wonder “did she decide to get her shit together,” because I’m just mean like that.

For anyone going through a slump, I promise you will claw your way out. Even if you claw your way out at 11:00 pm, you will do it. And when you do, I will be so proud of you.

 

Much love, all.

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The question.

I was cleaning a room with one of the new girls when a commercial came on advertising Geico insurance. It’s the one where the kid is asking where babies came from, and the father choked up and fumbled out some silly answer. My coworker looked at me and said “I just don’t understand why it’s so hard to tell the kid, parents make such a big deal out of it.”

This got my mind going. Yeah, we do make a big deal out of where babies come from. I don’t think the explanation is what’s tripping us up, I think it’s the fact that our babies are wanting to know about…well, babies. The same babies we carried in our bodies and snuggled with when they were sick. The babies we held and cried with when they doctor gave them their shots, the ones who took their first step towards you (or in my son’s case, a $1 bill that sat in front of me), the ones who wanted to stay home with you instead of going to school.

I don’t think answering is what’s difficult. I think what’s most difficult is coming to terms with the fact that your baby is so much of a baby anymore. Your child, forever a baby in your eyes, is growing up while you are stuck in the passenger seat, watching them grow and make decisions. You helped your child learn right from wrong and taught them to accept others instead of hate.

So parents, we all know the day will come when your little darling comes up to you and asks you that dreaded question, and we know it’s going to be hard. Not because you don’t want them to know, because you don’t want them to grow up.

Let them talk

With the school year approaching soon, I can’t help but feel a little nervous for my son. Before I go on a tangent as to why, let me explain my son first.

This boy is a talker! From the moment he gets up all the way to bedtime, this boy is telling me story after story, dropping an “I love you, mommy,” or a million other things! I’ve looked, there’s no pause button. He even talks over people!

He also likes to wiggle around ALL the time. Swinging his legs, tapping pencils on the table, getting up to walk around. I know I know, it’s frustrating. The funny thing is, I do that same thing! I know what you’re thinking, “that’s what a fidget spinner is for,” let me tell you this now, no way in HELL will he ever have one of those. Oh but why? Read on.

The boy gets distracted far too easily. When he was in baseball, and we were practicing at home, I’d have to take that baseball from him to get him to listen! If a leaf falls outside he’s the first to see it!

Now, I love my son and each and every thing about him more than words can say. At home, we are working on the fidgeting and the interrupting and the focus. However, the one thing I refuse to silence is his voice.

Too many people live in this belief that children should be seen and not heard, and in some cases that does apply. But I have only a few years left until my kid silences himself to me. I don’t want to silence him now, because I’ll miss all the tall tales and short stories.

Back to my fear for the school year. I’ve had nothing but bad luck with schools. They try to push medications, trying to turn him into some mindless robot who one their every command. I’ve heard they changed their mindset, that if a kid is above average in one aspect they will be put in a group who is also above average. I’m still scared. I’ll always be my son voice, I’ll always be the one to battle the school if they push for medications. My son is a wild spirit, and in this moment, maybe that’s what he needs to be.

Side by side

I don’t typically wear much jewelery, partially because my body absolutely hates the metals. So when my mom told me she was getting me a special necklace, I was worried with how my neck was going to respond to it. Once I saw it, tears welled up in my eyes. It was a picture of my son standing next to a beaming mother who just graduated. I put it on and wore it proudly for about a week, until the chain broke and I had to find other methods of wearing it. I found another chain and slid it on, only to have it last about another month before that too fell apart. I felt crushed. The wonderful gift from my mother was laying in pieces on my shelf because I was just too rough for the chain.

Recently I tried to find another chain, one that would withstand my constant movement, and also one my skin wouldn’t react terribly to.

Now, this necklace is just any ordinary necklace, and I’m ashamed I didn’t notice this until just recently. This necklace depicted all of my hard work on one circle metal piece. On one side is myself, beaming in a cap and gown. That hard work was my graduation, and all the sacrifices I made finally paying off. But the most important piece of my ongoing work was standing next to me. My son stood proudly next to me, celebrating my achievement.

From his first time crawling, standing, and later walking, I was there. I was beside him every step of the way. When the doctors commented that he isn’t talking when he should be, we sat down with flash cards and spent the time to learn to talk. While in school, his teachers pushed for medication because “he’s just too wild” I was there beside him, trying to teach him how to control his wild spirit. I proudly ran beside him while he pedaled his bike into the field, shakey and nervous, and when he fell, I was beside him to brush the dirt off and tell him to try again. When he started baseball, I was beside him, cheering him on. With every pitch, catch, and swing I was his biggest fan. I have helped shape him into the boy he is today, doing so by being by his side.

The necklace hangs proudly around my neck, with a newfound appreciation for it. My son saw that I was there by his side, and he wanted to return the favor.

Together we are forever standing side by side.

 

Make way, make way!

Comfort zone, we all have them. Mine happens to be my bed with a YouTube video playing as I curl up and just relax. Most people say it’s healthy to break out of your comfort zone, to explore the world around you, make yourself uncomfortable so you can learn to be comfortable, or something like that.

I decided today to try to break out of my little hidey-hole and go and make some sort of fun out of my day off. So I called a fellow coworker and asked if she wanted to go to Gaylord. She and her girlfriend said yes and we were off.

On the way there, we all talked of weird phenomenons that had happened to us, and whether we believed in spirits and the after life. As we wandered around Walmart, we found cute little things that made us fa -girl out of control. We laughed and shared each other’s frustrations when we could t find what we needed in the jumbled up mess of inventory. We shrugged and headed out to Taco Bell to fill our bellies, then off to Meijer we went. Did I mention that the eclipse was going on as we were roaming about? Yeah, it was pretty creepy. We only had about a 75% coverage, and whoa, the entire world around d us was a mixture of yellow and grey. Once we got to the store, we saw a couple of ladies with their fancy eclipse glasses watching from their car, feeling all classy.

We roamed about, looking at various odds and ends, and we ended up in the electronics department. I was furiously hunting for a new band for my Fitbit, since I’m in housekeeping and find myself scraping the wall. Apparently that doesn’t do too well with the Fitbit bands.

Unable to find d a band to for, I turned around and my eyes landed in the soundtrack for Moana. needless to say I freaked out and snatched it right up. My coworker and her girlfriend looked at me like I was crazy and I flashed it in front of them. “GUESS WHO’S BLARING THIS ON THE WAY HOME!”

Before I knew it, the three of us were belting out in unison “Moana, make way, make way!!” in the middle of the aisle. The man at the desk turned at looked at us like we were INSANE, and we couldn’t help but crack up.

On the way home we listen to every single track, trying to hit the high notes and giggling about the fact that the Rock can ACTUALLY sing. I couldn’t believe that I didn’t feel panicky at all today.

Ya know, if someone would have told me that breaking out of my comfort zone would be so fun, I may have done it a long time ago.

Lack of…

I feel like my life is stuck on this endless loop of eat, sleep, and work. And that’s when I don’t have the kids running around. Pig sits patiently waiting for the moment we can run around and find wonderful moments. I hate to break it to her, but she has to wait some more.

With the hustle and bustle of life, I just can’t find time or motivation to run around and capture moments with her. Luckily Pig is just a camera, but I still feel bad. On days off I’d rather lounge around the house in pajamas while eating unhealthy but delicious food while browsing Facebook, pretending like I give a damn about the on going of the people I follow. Oh, you’re working today, that sucks. Oh no, you’re not getting along with the on again off again boyfriend, shucks. Wow, little Timmy just took his first turn towards big boy-hood by going boom boom in the toilet; you must be so proud.

I know that makes me sound heartless, and some days I just really am. Other days it’s just too difficult to be a normal person in every day life, I’d rather be in my comfiest pair of pajamas with a good book, blog, or podcast. I don’t get how people can be go-go-go all the time. That shit is exhausting.

Which brings me back to Pig, sitting proudly in front of her journal, twiddling her imaginary thumbs. Pigs job is easy, capture the moment. She doesn’t have to change her dial, hunt for the shot, make sure we are close enough for the shot. No, she just captures the moment. Like I said before, shits exhausting.

One day my motivation will come back. Until then I’m going to kick my feet up, pop in my headphones and binge Cold Coffee, or Conversations With People Who Hate Me. Pig will understand.

Memories

“When you dream, it’s actually your memories coming back to say hello,” my mother cooed as my father pressed play on my pink radio. I could hear the Muppets getting ready to sing my favorite bedtime song, “Dream”, and my heart began to race. What memory would greet me tonight? Would I be able to remember it the next morning at breakfast?

Memories danced in this Dreamland and one by one, they all came to greet me. “Courtney, do you want to picnic with bears today?” A giant fluffy bear asked, with a picnic basket in his massive paw. We ate peanut butter and honey sandwiches while we watched the little cubs roll around. After a while, momma bear came out with a plate full of steaming scrambled eggs and toast. After three bites, a black and white cat darted over to me and ran off with a fluff of eggs hanging out of his mouth and a single piece of Christmas tinsel draped over his tail.

A roar of laughter came from three little bunnies as I jumped up to chase the cat, and suddenly I stood in my back yard with a hula hoop whirling around my waist. Dad cheered and mom clapped, and the wonderful smell of my great grandma’s fried bread filled the air. Grandma slept in the armchair while grandpa watched another marathon of Star Trek.

Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled and suddenly I was sitting on the front porch with Dad. Storm watching was always so much fun!

A light flooded my vision and I heard dad called “Court, time to get up and get ready for school!”

As I walked to the kitchen, heavy footed and all, my mom asked me how I slept. I beamed as I sat down and told her my many adventures in memory land.

All I heard as I waited at the bus stop were my parents calling, “dream big, little one”. At that moment I knew that everyday could be a wonderful adventure.

 

Nightmare land

I stood in our room, tears fighting to release from their dungeon. I watched as you threw all of your things in a suitcase you swore you’d “bring back” to my father. Words bubbled in my throat, only to suicide on the floor as I opened my mouth. We had been so happy for the last three years…and suddenly you chose to go.

“You aren’t the same person as before,” you answered my unspoken thoughts. “you parade around like everything is okay, and when you come home we don’t talk. You just hide in our room under the covers.”

I want to tell you I’m sorry, that I’m trying to get better, but the words don’t come out. I finally free the tears as I watch all of our future plans fade into smoke. You turn to me and I can read all of your thoughts like a book, “I need someone stronger” “you stress too much for me” “I can never seem to make you happy”. I want to tell you you’re wrong, that after a day full of grey clouds you are my sunlight, but I can’t.

As you grab your well packed items, my heart shatters. This is really it, isn’t it. The day I have always dreaded, the day I become a memory. My tears flow at such an alarming rate, I’m sure any moment I will drown, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. I can’t beg you to stay, I can’t promise to get better. How can I get better when my sunrise is leaving, dooming me into a world full of grey skies and personal demons.

“You promised to stay…” I selfishly choke out. There I go again, playing the victim. In a calm voice you look at me and say “you promised to try,” before walking out the door.

I crash into the bed, now empty as I hear your car start, knowing now is the time to run after you. To say all the thoughts that were building a dam in my throat. My body refuses to move, but you don’t. I hear you pull out of the driveway for the final time. The tears have stopped flowing, almost to say that they are going with you. Why would they stay with a monster?

After a year I am feeling a slight bit better, and I return to my every day Life. Work in the morning, attending my son’s events at school, only to return home to my very lonely empty bed. It’s a never ending cycle. A monster can’t love, and it will never truly be happy.

My heart races at the thought of you, then breaks knowing I drove you away. I can’t help but feel like I’m in a never ending nightmare, until I hear your voice, I see your smile, and I feel your warm embrace. I don’t want to tell you about the events in the nightmare, I don’t want to hear promises that can’t honestly be kept. I turn to your side of the bed and hope to keep you there for just a little while longer.

Life in a nutshell

I apologize for the lack of posts! I am here but I’ve been spending my time living life.

I’ve been working and raising my kids. One of my children is in baseball, and I’ve been honored to watch him grow as a member of a team. My other child likes learning things with me, so I’m happy to have a little assistant. 

I left a job that didn’t allow much time with my kids to go back to a job that I never really wanted to leave. As far as a worker, I think I’ve found my permanent job, at least until I feel comfortable enough to go to college, and that won’t be any time soon. 

As far as friendships, I have one best friend d who is there for me when I need him, and I’m there when he needs me. If you would have told me I’d have a best friend again after the death of my only best friend, I would have laughed in your face. Congrats Spencer, you’ve earned the title. 

Regarding my love life, I’m very happy to be arriving closer and closer to my three year anniversary with a man who takes me for how I am. He doesn’t expect me to sugar coat how I am. He doesn’t expect me to wear a permanent smile on my face. 

I have finally reached a happiness in my life that I never thought was possible. It was all around me but always out of my reach. 

My lesson for today: love your life. Perfection is all around you. 

Why?

This morning I was relaxing in bed, watching Todrick Hall’s “Straight Outta Oz”, when the following question crossed my mind: WHY. 

Now, before I get going on this, the question was not about the video. As a matter of fact, the video made me feel so many emotions at once, and it was truly a wonderful experience. If you decide you don’t want to listen to a whiny almost 26 year old complain and question things, I suggest you go watch that video. Yes, it’s over an hour, but it’s story will captivate you from beginning to end, and the tears will flow. Please, by all means, enjoy this journey. 

For those of you still with me, let me elaborate on the “why?”. As I was welcomed into Todrick’s masterpiece I noticed I was picking up on the lyrics more than usual. Let’s start with his song “Black and White”. It’s basically stating that we live in a world that wants us to dream, but the dreams better fit into today’s society. No dreaming of better, it needs to conform and be normal. Why?! Nobody in this world is normal, because there is no such thing. My definition of normal is someone who isn’t boring, they have random bouts of silliness. To my boss, normal is someone who is quiet, but not too quiet. To my coworker, normal is working out after work, remaining calm, and being slightly social. There, prime example of three different definitions of normal, proving normal does not exist. 

How about the song he sings about gun violence? Yeah, he talks about that. He’s saying that we need to protect each other from the pain and suffering that comes from careless, violent acts. Why, in 2017, is this still an issue that people cannot comprehend. If you want to have a gun, fine. But don’t be a fucking moron with it. Don’t wake up one morning and decide to kill someone. Is this that hard to figure out? And before you say that he’s talking about gun violence towards people of color, I urge you to educate yourself. Watch the video, hell I’ll even provide it for you, and notice the name Christina Grimmie painted over some graffiti. If you still don’t know who Christina Grimmie is, learn from Google. Or allow me to sum it up. Christina Grimmie was a young, aspiring artist. She started her career on YouTube, the same place Mr. Hall found his, and she found herself on the Voice, then found herself singing at her own concerts. If you noticed in my small summary of her the word was, congratulations. I said was because she was murdered. Why? Because someone with a fucking gun got a little trigger happy and couldn’t leave his weapon at home.

Let’s explore his song “Dumb”. This song has to be my favorite. He’s talking about artists flipping music left and right, with no heart in their work, and they make millions. He tried to be recognized for his talent, and because he is “made of burlap” people expect to hear rap from him. He also takes a glorious jab at women being less paid. In one song, he’s picking apart everything that is ignorant and outdated, and calling it what it really is, dumb. 

Why in the hell is all of this shit still a problem? Why do we sit by, quietly watching while hate is pumped into us. Why?! 

During one of the songs, “Expensive” I noticed something. Drag queens are walking down a runway, looking glamourus as all hell, and some are bigger than size zero. I started thinking that the standards society set for women may be just straight people being dicks. Now hear me out. Models are expected to be skinny, perfect, essentially a walking Barbie doll. But women come in all shapes and sizes, so why don’t models? I keep hearing “bigger women can model too” but the women aren’t that big! It’s still an issue of size! Now with drag queens? Oh honey, in the “Expensive” video, there are queens of all sizes, each looking phenomenal, and I realized that I was looking up to the wrong “women”. Why in the hell would I blindly worship a woman who counts calories, willing stays the size of stick knowing young girls are looking up to them? No baby, the drag queens are the true idols here. They know their beauty and they flaunt the hell out of it. Yes mama, that is who inspires me. So the question I have, why, in 2017 are will still allowing companies to market products on women the width of a number two pencil? Why should these companies be allowed to make strong, beautiful, intelligent women feel like they are worthless because they aren’t fitting into the cookie cutter beauty? Nah, fuck that. 

Why, why why? I don’t have the answers, and when I think I get close to a break through, everything explodes in my face. I don’t understand anything when it comes to why things are still an issue. I’m raising one boy to respect women are all sizes, to know women are the same as men, and to respect everyone, no matter how high or low they are in life. I’m also helping my boyfriend raise a daughter to know that she isn’t expected to stay at home and cook while her man brings home the bacon. She doesn’t need to be toothpick thin to be beautiful, and she uses her brain more than her looks in life. But what are we supposed to tell them when they ask us why? 

“Mommy, why are people saying women should stay in the kitchen?” “Courtie, why can’t my best friend feel safe coming out to us?” “Mom, why can’t a black man feel safe walking down the road?” “Courtie, why does a woman have to be so careful at a party, why can’t she have a good time and boys leave her alone?” 

What do I tell them? If you are a person who has problems with women, LGBTQ+, people of color, bigger women, or anything that doesn’t fucking involve you, tell me what I should tell my children. Tell me what to say when my step daughter is getting ready for her first drink at 21, and she is spending three days beforehand learning self defence with her father, only to come to me who teaches her to hold on to her drink. To make sure she is at a safe place, that she’s in a group, that of she feels like something is off to find an out. Tell me what to tell my son that is being taught by bigots and racists that it’s okay to hate people of different races or religion. Tell my son why he got beat up for standing up for his gay friend. Hell tell my son how much of a piece of shit his bisexual mother is, I’m sure that will go over real well. 

Tell me why this is still an issue. 

Tell me why we can’t fucking mind our own business and let others be happy. 

It’s 2017 for crying out loud. It’s time to put your nose back on your own face, and stop putting it in other people’s business. 

(Videos will be added later, once I get my laptop up to par once more.)

End rant.