0027. all my agony fades away when you hold me in your embrace

iTunes: "All I Need" - Within Temptation

Mood: happy

I know it's been a while since I've posted. There are plenty of good reasons for it, namely that I've been working and doing the school thing. Monkey got sick for a while and she took up pretty much all my time & energy (the flu is bad enough, but when it's a 5 year old that's sick... it's awful). My internet had all sorts of issues and I was without internet for a week or so. But mostly, I was too busy with the whole wedded bliss thing.

Yup, you read that right. PK & I got married!

Technically. We filed a Declaration of Informal Marriage, which is common-law marriage. But in Texas, it's as legal as going in front of a judge or a priest, so we're as married as married can get. I hyphenated my last name and we now refer to each other as "husband" and "wife" because we're silly like that.

HAPPY TIMES!!

Speaking of happy times... I've been battling with pretty severe depression for almost my entire life. I've talked about it on the Twitloss blog a lot because it deals with health and weight loss issues, but basically - I'm bipolar. It's not as severe as some other people I know, but it's enough that it does affect me and those around me. It got to the point where I couldn't handle it anymore, and I finally broke down and went to Mental Health at the VA (something I put off for 2 years because I was so certain I could handle it).

Turns out, asking for help with something doesn't make you weak, and being bipolar doesn't make you crazy. Amazing, the stuff you learn when you reach out...

Anyway. They put me on some meds to help level my moods out. In the 5 weeks or so I've been on it, I've been sleeping better, I haven't been crying or screaming nearly as much, and I'm generally happier. The one issue I have with it is that I"m hungry all the time. And it's really hard to resist grabbing the puffy Cheetos (which I'm craving BIG TIME). I drink a TON of water because the meds dehydrate me, but also because it helps to curb my appetite... kind of.

I'm secretly terrified that I'm going to gain all the weight I lost back, but as of the last doctor's appointment, I've only gained 1 pound back, and that was during Girl Time, so I'm attributing that pound to water retention.

I've cleaned up the house and it looks nearly model-like again. I just need to get the boxes out of the corner and see about setting up that damned elliptical. I need to jump on it & get the remaining 40 pounds off. If we're going to Italy in the summer, I don't want to look like a beached whale when we hit the private pool at the villa.

Oh, did I forget to mention that part?

We're going to ITALY for TWO WEEKS this summer!!!! We're going with PK's family and a few very close family friends. Monkey's staying home with Nana, so it'll kinda be like a honeymoon. At some point, PK's hoping to take me to Rome for a day or two, just us. I can't wait!!

And in other good news (I'm full of it today, aren't I?) I've been elected president of my college's creative writing club. Kind of exciting, but at the same time kind of scary since I don't know the first thing about running an extra curricular club. But I'm sure it'll be a blast either way.

Guess I'd better get to work. Or pretending to work. :)

0026. I hate my cats. Still.

I've never really been what you'd call a cat person. In fact, I sort of hate them. But I got Stinky for Monkey anyway, because I felt she needed an animal to grow up with, and a dog is out of the question because we live in a small condo with no yard for the dog to run in. At the time we got Stinky, I didn't know that PK was going to move in with us, because he'd been hemming and hawing over us officially living together for a while. While I'm over the moon that PK finally did move in with us, I'm not-so-ecstatic that the animals came with. Obviously.

Remember my I Haz Anger post? I hand-wrote an "I Haz Anger... Part 2" post the other night. To sum up (because the hand-written post is about 5 pages long): the cats pooped on Monkey's comforter. A few days later, I accidentally locked them in my room and they pooped and peed on my comforter, which is too large for me to put in the washing machine, so I had to take it to the laundromat. The day I got the comforter from the laundromat, they peed on Monkey's bed.

If you remember from my last post, I've been having some serious anger issues lately. I had all sorts of fantasies about how I was going to kill the cats. Antifreeze in their drinking water. Letting them out of the house. Running them over with my car. Throwing them out the window... I'm not a violent person normally, but this is getting out of control and I don't know what to do.

PK won't let me get rid of the animals. Any of them. Even though Tessa sits in her cage all the time, never played with, rarely talked to, and making a mess for me to clean up - because even though she's PK's bird, I'm the one who feeds, waters, and cleans up after her. The same goes for the cats (although PK does play with the cats a lot - they're his babies). I'm the one who feeds and cleans up after them.

And how fair is that?? Why is is that I'm the one taking care of them? They're not mine. I don't want them. And yet I'm saddled with the responsibility of keeping them alive & happy. If I had it my way, they'd be given to good homes or sold (in Tessa's case... she's worth about $3,000).

Per TwiMom227's suggestion, I'm going to write a letter to PK, stating my feelings on the situation and asking for a peaceful (and fair) resolution. The one thing I have to say though... if Ditto continues to use anything but the litterbox as his place to pee, he's got to go. I cannot and will not allow him to remain here if he does. It's not sanitary and I refuse to put my child (and myself) in that kind of living situation. Not to mention the risk of toxoplasmosis...

I had Monkey's carpet professionally cleaned today. The guy who did the room said that the smell might come back, because the carpet was fairly saturated in urine, and because it's especially acidic, it's likely already gone through the padding and is possibly starting to eat at the concrete below (cat urine is acidic, concrete is alkaline. mixing the two is not good juju). I'm going to call the landlord and ask him if we're allowed to rip out the carpet and replace it with something else. I'm thinking wood flooring, since carpet sucks. We already have to replace the wood flooring in front of the bathroom because the asshole Ditto used that for his bathroom before he discovered Monkey's room.

God, I hate my cats.

0025. I don't know where I am & I don't trust where I've been

iTunes: "Full Moon" - The Black Ghosts

mood: emo & ridiculous

I've been battling with some pretty bad anger issues lately. According to PK, I've been "mean" for the past 4-5 months. While I admit that I've been touchier lately, I don't think that I've been mean. I've still done everything in my power to make sure that he and Monkey are happy while still trying to maintain some semblance of sanity and my own identity, but if they (he) say anything that I construe as "rude" or even slightly off, I immediately flip the bitch switch. And that's not right!

I know he's not always as rude as I feel he's being. He's abrasive sometimes, but he's actually quite a wonderful guy. He works his ass off and takes care of us and he really loves us with all his heart... but it's never enough for me. I'm a selfish greedy bitch and I want more.

I want him to hold my hand, tell me he loves me all the time (without my prompting him first), to be sweet and cuddly and teddy-bearish, and to fucking propose! I want him to tell me he wants to spend the rest of his life with me, loving me, and treating me like a queen. I don't think that's so much to ask, is it?

I know he's not the teddy-bear type. He's not smooshy and into public displays of affection and I knew that going in. I was in one of my "I don't want to be touched" phases, so it was fine with me. And sometimes he does let me climb all over him and smooch all over his face, so it's not as though I'm going without affection. He makes me happy and he takes care of me.

And I've completely gone off on a tangent. This is not what I wanted to talk about.

I've been on a rollercoaster lately. One minute I'm up, the next I'm so low that I can see what my downstairs neighbor is doing because I'm through the floor.

I'm downphasing right now and battling the urge to either cry or scream. Monkey was playing in her room (instead of putting on her nightgown like PK told her to do) and she shattered the piggybank I got for her before she was born. Since I got it from a craft store in San Antonio, there's no way I can replace it. And I was already ready to cry, so when I saw that it was the piggybank, I burst into tears. PK was understanding about why I was crying but upset with Monkey for fucking around instead of doing what she was told. I still feel like a dumbshit for bursting into tears over a piggybank.

My doctor put a consult into Mental Health for me, but I don't know when that's going to happen. It's the VA and they're notoriously overworked, understaffed, and slow as hell. Until then, I'll have to figure out a way to keep going.

0024. I can admit when I'm being childish

So my last post was written while fairly drunk and in the middle of a tantrum. I admit that sometimes I can be a bit of a child. I'm 27, not 17. I sometimes have trouble remembering that.

The thing is, with how severe my social anxiety is, I don't want to go out often. PK has routinely told me that I've changed his entire lifestyle because he used to go out all the time and now he never goes out. Of course he gives himself away when I actually want to go somewhere and he tells me that he wants to stay home because he's "so tired" and he "never [gets] to stay home and relax because [he] never [has] time off".

Yes, I know that he works hard and often. I understand that. But why is it only when I want to go out that he's too tired for it? And why is it the things that I want to do that he's tired of (going to a bar in the area - i.e. Maribel's, Scout Bar, Monkey Bar, etc).

Maybe I'm still in the middle of my childish tantrum.

While I'm ranting... We had a "pow-wow" at work yesterday wherein we were told that we all need to help each other out. I found this a bit amusing, since my job entails filing, voicemail, whatever Boss Lady needs in the office, and backing the guys up because they're out front with students. I'd say about 85% of my time is spent in the front or standing in the office helping the guys because they know nothing.

The 2 new guys, I can totally understand why they need help. They've been here less than a month, they're bound to have a few questions here & there. But Lazy has been with us for MONTHS and he still routinely has to ask the most basic simple questions there are! And he made a comment on how the filing wasn't done Thursday afternoon. I'm sorry, would that be the day that we were so busy I didn't even have time to eat lunch? The day that I pick my kid up from school and have to RUN out the door? Yes, I believe so. And he also brought up a day where he asked me a question & I told him that I had to leave. That was on another Tuesday or Thursday. He claims it was 10 minutes before I had to leave, and yet I've routinely been late picking Monkey up because I've been too busy helping his stupid lazy ass out and taking care of students to leave right at 3:00.

I cannot tell you how many times I've told them that if I'm not OUT THE DOOR RIGHT AT 3:00 that I will be late to pick her up. And how many times I've left at 3:05, even as late at 3:10. I don't like it when Monkey is the last kid picked up. I don't like it when it's evident that she's been crying when I pick her up because she thinks Mommy has forgotten her. So fuck you for being upset that I told you I'm leaving and don't have time to answer your stupid ass question. Fuck you twice for implying that I said it 10 minutes before leaving because that shit has NEVER HAPPENED, Mr "I'm out 15 minutes before my shift is actually over".

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that? He leaves early. Every day. And he laughs about it! He even left me by myself on a Friday when the entire office was closing at 5:00. We do NOT leave before 5:00 because the Big Boss Lady (the one who's in charge of the entire office) gets pissed if we close our doors one second before 5:00. But our boss was out that day and he & I were the only ones there. He told me that his clock said it was 5:00, so he was leaving. I told him we don't go by our personal clocks, that we go by the one in the office and even then, we don't leave until all the students are gone and/or we've been given permission by TBBL to leave. He left anyway. I should've reported it to our boss, but I didn't because he was new and I didn't want to throw him under the bus like that.

But now? Oh, I can't wait for the first Greyhound to pass by because his ass is getting tossed directly in the line of fire.

0023. What's my age again?

iTunes: "What's my age again" - Blink 182
Mood: slightly tipsy, mostly intoxicated

PK and I went to his Christmas party tonight and we had a lot of fun. I'm not big on social events, considering my social anxiety disorder is usually pretty fucking crippling and most of the time you have to drag me out of the house kicking and screaming (sometimes literally), but i had a really great time ringing. Maybe it was because of the "Perfect Patron Margarita", the 3 filthy dirty martinis (I have to tell the bartender tha he has to either drag the glass through the Gulf of Mexico or pick up a hooker from the French Quarter and make her spit in it and that's how dirty I want my martini), or the "Spiked Iced Tea" (which I took from Camaro and it was freaking fabulous), but I was feeling the urge to go out to the bar with our friends after the party. But PK didn't want to go. Camaro assured me that he'd convince PK to come with.

And we came home at 10:30.

I begged to go out. BEGGED. But he's tired and wants to go home and blah blah blah. Dude! I'm fucking 27 years old. I'm not 50. Twenty-fucking-seven. All of my going out and partying stopped when I got pregnant with Monkey. And when was that? When I was 21. When did I start going out? When I was 21 (remember the crippling social anxiety disorder?). Yeah, I've gone out since then, but I haven't gotten it all out of my system. And it might take me having a few drinks to get in the mood to want to go out, but I sometimes do want to go. And PK's excuse is that he's been to all the funky bars in the area. He's played that scene and whatever. but I haven't!!!

I moved here when I was 17. I moved away (to join the Navy) when I was 19. Not old enough to go to bars. Not old enough to go to dance clubs that are any kind of fun. I want to go out. I want to have a good time. I want to act my goddamned age! PK is 38. That's not old. In fact, most of the time, I complain that he's acting like a fucking child. But tonight, he's acting like an old fucking man and it's irritating the fuck out of me. He was saying how we never go out and his "Rock Star Lifestyle" is over because he's a husband (he's not) and a father (ok, he kinda is) and now he's saying he's too tired to go to a fucking bar for a drink.

What the fuck ever.

0022. the beat was going strong playing my favorite song

iTunes: "I love rock & roll" - Britney Spears

Mood: tired, slightly irritated, but still ok (complicated?)

Today wasn't horrible. It was busy, but not bad. By the time 2:00 rolled around, I was seriously clock-watching cause I was so ready to go home. 3:00 hit, and I ran out the door. Went & picked Monkey from school and had to take her home to change her shirt because she managed to get green frosting all over it (they made "Christmas trees" out of waffle cones, green frosting, and M&Ms). I decided to take her to the nail salon so that we could get our nails done.

I love taking her to get her nails painted, she's so adorable when she's picking out the color and trying to be patient about how long it's taking for them to dry. Normally, I take her Leapster and she sits there fairly quietly playing while I get my nails redone. Today, she played her Leapster for about 10 seconds and proceeded to spin the chair around, kick the chair away from the table, mess with everything on the table (especially the fan and the lamp)... basically anything she could do to get in trouble.

I don't know what's going on with her lately, but she refuses to listen to me. She looks right at me with that little glint in her eyes and does exactly what I tell her not to. Then she laughs at me when I get mad at her for doing it! What the hell??? Is it an age thing? Is it a phase? Is it her way of saying "Pay more attention to me and stop being such a shitty mom?" I don't know what the hell to do! Spanking and time out isn't working. Talking to her like an adult isn't working. Talking to her like a child isn't working.

I'm at that point where I'm overwhelmed from everything and I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of having a panic attack. I need a fucking break. Not just from Monkey (my mom's planning on taking her for a weekend sometime soon), but from everything. Work, school, PK... LIFE.

I feel like I'm being all whiny and irritating because everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes and needs a break, but FUCK! How am I supposed to center my fucking chi and calm the hell down if I can't even take a shower without someone (namely Monkey) crawling up my ass & asking me 10,000 questions?!

0021. Flaunting my intelligence... or something.

I love school. I make no secret of that. While I'm not a huge fan of my government class, I am huge fan of learning... especially history. OMG, I'm suuuuuch a history dork. So much so that I've been actively wondering why I'm not pursuing a history degree instead of a nursing degree (money - plain & simple).

Today, I had to take an online test for my Texas History class because the prof had been absent one day and he needed the extra time for lecture before the final. I'm actually really happy for that because it gave me a little more time to really read the book instead of just skimming over the book for the answers to the questions on the review. As dorky as it makes me, I really enjoyed the outside reading we did this semester. The book is called Galveston: A History by David G McComb.

It's not nearly as dry as I thought the history of a city would be, and I ended up going online to see what other cities or states he's done biographies of. He's written about Colorado, the state of Texas, a modern history of Texas, and HOUSTON! Of course, I ordered the Houston book and can't wait to read it (I'll have to, since I'm so horrendously behind on my reviews, but as soon as I get caught up, I'm diving right in!)

So yeah, the test... We usually have 40 multiple choice questions and one (short) essay question. This time, we had 20 multiple questions, which took me around 15 minutes to complete, and I took the remaining 45 minutes on the timer to write the longest test essay response I've ever written in my life.

I wrote 1248 words on 2 pages in 11 point Calibri font. Normally, I have to fight myself to come up with something to write on tests. But in this class I have never lacked for the words, just the time and the page space (we've got 4 short pages on our scantrons and with how large my handwriting is.... it tends to fill up quickly). Today, I let myself go crazy. And I'm so happy with the results that I can't help but share it. If you're really that interested in reading my genius work, click the "READ MORE!" link below.