Monday, December 3, 2012

Where I Am Told I Am Disgusting

We received a cat through no actual want on our part.
I was transporting a kitten from it's home (a co-workers' cat had kittens) to the neighbour of a former friend who wanted a cat. The day I brought it home for her, she decided that she would rather have an SPCA cat, and had conveniently got one from the SPCA that day. That SAME day. Without telling me. Or apologizing. And I happened to be going overseas for three weeks, two days later. But that's another story.
So we are stuck. With this cat. The cat from hell.
I generally don't mind cats. I grew up with them. I've had more than one at a time, on several occasions.
But I have never had a cat (until now) that has been such a terrorizing little fuck. I have tolerated the clawing of couch, the jumping on counters, the guerrilla warfare attacks, and the tormenting of the other cat, but this cat does not comprehend any calm behaviour. It MUST go in every open cupboard, every open closet, every open bag, every open drawer. It MUST sneak into every room as soon as the door is open. It MUST climb my legs and body (clothed or not) to swat at any necklace or drawstring I am wearing. It MUST jump onto the highest spot in the room, and knock into everything in its path. It MUST chew on any exposed electrical cord or paper/books/documents in sight. I could go on...
My patience has (understandably) worn thin.
I am seven months pregnant, and I can barely muster enough composure to hold my stress in about that  (I have had no significant crazy outbursts as of yet!), and there is no leftover tolerance for this cat.
And so I air my expletive grievances to Husband about said cat. And how much I hate the cat. And how I want it gone. Like now.
Tonight I was told I am Disgusting. About how I treat said cat. About how much I hate said cat. About how I have no qualms about how I feel about said cat. He said it makes him sick to see this side of me.
I don't know how to react. Husband is entitled to his opinion, but so am I.
I do not hurt the cat. I do not light the cat on fire. I do not attempt to drown it or suffocate it or lock it in the hot dryer 'accidentally'.
I just figured I would have support behind me if I felt so strongly about something. He doesn't have to agree, but it would be nice to feel some sort of empathetic response....

On another note - anyone want a cat?

Saturday, November 17, 2012

10 years and Counting

Husband and I celebrated 10 years of being together, earlier this month.
Ten. Years.
Ten Christmas's.
Ten Birthday's (each).
Ten Winters, Springs, Summers and Falls.
We started off as a one-night stand, and never let each other go. There have been so many ups and downs. After moving in together exactly one year after meeting; moving from the big city to a tiny little town; adopting a fish, a frog, 2 cats, and a dog together; combating my crazy; battling lost jobs, new jobs, toxic jobs, & every job in between; getting married in Vegas; family deaths, divorces, and marriages; travelling through Europe, BC, and all over the US;  we have shared many highlights and lowlights. Nights spent in, canoodling; spent out, partying; spent together and apart; spent abroad, spent locally, spent with friends and family. We have built so many memories in our decade together, and are about to embark on a whole new chapter with the addition of our first child next spring.
Husband is my best friend, my rock star, my soul mate.
I can't imagine my self with out him. And I never want to.
Love you bitch. Cheers to ten to the power of ten more years.

Friday, October 12, 2012

More than 1 more hour

When I was teenage-years young, I made a decision to only live until my 30th birthday. I was convinced that, although I didn't want to live to even see my 16th or even 20th birthday, that living until I was 30 would be sufficient enough. Even last year as I turned 29, I kept thinking to myself - 'this is my last year', 'only one more year of being so. emotionally. done.' I just saw no point in moving forward, even though in the rational part of my mind I know I have so to live for.
Up until this week, I was ready. To give up. To let go. To say goodbye.
And then today. Today I met my little human (on screen). I saw it move and squirm as the ultra-sound tech tried to take her pictures and measurements. I saw it hide and do the worm and hug itself. I received confirmation that the bubbles i have been feeling in my belly are indeed my little human moving around.
Today things became a little more real.
Today confirmed my reason to continue for another 30 years.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

I'm Baaack

I took some selfish time. Or rather, couldn't be bothered time. Or better yet, I didn't have the patience to post while solely using my iPhone, and hated having to log onto the ancient home computer which crashes every seven minutes.
But today that changes.
Husband treated me to an early birthday present - a new lap top.
So now I have no excuse not to exist online.
Which means you get to listen to my blatherings again.
I will let you decide whether that's a good or bad thing.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

So Excite

Husband and I went to Europe in June. It was the most relaxing vacation I have ever been on, despite the fact that we Griswold'ed it through Germany's Rhine Valley & the Netherlands with my in-laws, brother-in-law, & MIL's mom on a crazy hectic on-the-move-all-the-time schedule. Spending every day for two weeks on the go from 8am-10pm was exhausting but SO. MUCH. FUN.
We saw castles and churches and museums and monuments and other crazy historical things. So much old stuff - it wow'd my mind grapes.
One of my most favorite things was how the front door on every home was so unique, with funky animal shaped doorknobs and knockers. I took over 200 pictures of doors. My plan is to create a super awesome collage. Just depends on how long my procrastination sticks around. :)
I discovered a product in Holland called Speculoos Spread. It is pureed ginger cookies, ground to the consistency of peanut butter and tastes better than anything I've ever had in my life. I became so addicted that I ended up bringing 6 jars home in my suitcase. They were empty in less than 3 weeks. Time to find a local supplier before I go into withdrawal.
The other most exciting thing that Husband & I brought back from Europe is a little creation we made in Germany. It will make its official debut on March 1, 2013. We thought it was the least we could do to say thanks to the family for bringing us along on such a fabulous trip.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Better Late Than ......

I have been thinking about how to write this post for the last month or so. I want to give you a highlight of the goings on of the last few months but I don't want to bore you or draw it out too long. So let's try some haiku, shall we? Darkness consumed me Financial ropes cut deeply Job search continued All of a sudden A sign appeared from nowhere Light brightens the gloom New job brings some cash External learning means smarts Stress level soon gone More friends are pregnant My bits still despise children Though my heart does not We hung up pictures I guess that means we're staying (can't afford to move) Eight days til Europe Through Germany and Holland We are the Griswolds That's all I can think of for now. I will check in after the trip. There is more to talk about. Like how my husband thinks I am a drug addict. Or how my friends are going through major business problems and may lose their home. Or how I had two breakdowns on the job within two months at my new job. Both in front of my new boss. Yes. I am a winner. In the meantime, I have a homework project for you: can you tell me how you would explain depression & bi-polar disorder to someone who does not believe it is 'legit'? Thanks!

Sunday, February 19, 2012

An Obsession

I have been infatuated with peanut butter from the moment I was allowed to eat toast, as a toddler. The peanut-y flavour, the smooth yet sticky, and the 'goes with pretty much everything' attitude makes it my number one delicacy. Truth be told, it has to be the processed stuff - Kraft, Jiffy, Skippy - cause the natural stuff isn't my style. (Although I do like natural versions of other nut & seed butters, like almond, sunflower & get your mind out of the gutter.)

Since I stock up on peanut butter like a crazy cat lady does cats, I have been eating a lot of peanut butter sandwiches this past week. To keep things a little exciting, I sometimes add new ingredients to my sandwich. Here are some of the combos I did this week:
- PB & Triple Berry Jelly
- PB & Honey
- PB & Honey with Chocolate Chips
- PB & Chocolate Chips
- PB & Bacon

Other combos I have tried previously include:
- PB & plain potato chips
- PB & mayonnaise (sounds gross but is surprisingly good!)
- PB & summer sausage, cheddar cheese, and cool ranch doritos
- PB & summer sausage and mozzarella
- PB & butter
- PB & honey and jam

I hope I haven't made you throw up. Husband thought I was crazy and disgusting UNTIL he tried PB & sausage and cheddar cheese. Now he is a PB Believer.

How about you? Would you try any of my sandwiches? What is your most bizarre or unique sandwich creation? (a million pts if it has peanut butter)

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

The Dog No One Understands

She is socially inept around people. She doesn't understand that strangers mean no harm and that people look at her because she's gorgeous, not because they are challenging her. She growls in fear, raising her ridgeback hackles, tucking her tail between her legs. She looks for the closest escape; there is none while she is on leash. She will lunge in protection if warranted, barking within a foot of a stranger, as she has learned it will scare people away. It's not right, and I am striving to change her reactions. But she doesn't know any better. My attempts to socialize my dog are somewhat fruitless. She is slowly becoming more comfortable around friends and family. When ignored and left to make contact on her own merit, she reacts calmly and curiously (just like any dog should). However walking through town is a completely different story. Her fear of other people makes her so anxious that people react to her as if she is Cujo. I can understand why. A loud barking dog can be scary. (My dog is 60 lbs, and medium sized, so understandably a lot 'scarier' than a yipping 12 lb terrier, but a terrier displaying the same reaction would come across as cute or annoying - depending on your perspective of terriers. Just sayin') When people comment, I explain she is a puppy who is learning to socialize, and is VERY fearful of people (hence the strong reaction). She is not an agressive dog. She is fearful. BIG DIFFERENCE!!! Most people understand. Some people stop to swap dog stories, others steer clear of us. No judgement at all. It's the "that dog needs to be trained" and "that dog shouldn't be out in public" comments that irk the crap out of me. Yesterday, one lady had the audacity to say both of the above comments, and when I explained to her that the reason my dog was acting this way is because she is a puppy and I am in the process of socializing her. Bringing her around people is the only way she is going to learn how to behave properly in public. She continued on (quite rudely) to say how she trained dogs all her life and had never had issues like my dog has. I just kept repeating myself that she is still a puppy and still learning. After she walked away, my dog settled down, and I came up with a whole bunch of things I *wish* I had said instead. Dontcha hate when that happens? At least I am prepared for the next rude Caesar-Milan-wannabe know-it-all! I hate being trapped in this stupid catch-22: my dog needs to be out in public to be socialized, yet I can't* take her out in public because she is barky, growly, & lungey when strangers are nearby. *by can't I mean safely and without fear of judgment or embarrassment or someone calling the dog catcher on us (and yes that has happened once already) The key is control. A controlled environment. A controlled leader. And lots and lots of practice. I take super duper care to keep her away from children (one socializing step at a time!) and keep a safe distance from people, so the fight or flight instinct doesn't kick in. She is awesome around other dogs. She prefers to be left alone while at the dog park, but will not hesitate to meet others, or chase/play with more stable dogs. She has dog friends that she adores, and has a doggy boyfriend who protects her when other dogs start to play to rough with her. (Even when she is the instigator). She is incredibly smart, and knows all of the basic commands. At home she is treated like a pack member and not like a child, though there are times we let it slip and dress her up for special occasions. I know her fear isn't going to magically dissipate. I know it's going to take a LOT of work to get her to relax and be calm in every environment and situation. And as we keep expanding her world in a safe and somewhat controlled way, she will be a much more happy and healthy dog.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Test Test Test, Are These Things Working or What?

I met my new family dr today. A very nice fellow from England. I haven't had my own dr in 18 years - hurrah to walk-in clinics - so having someone who I can spill my medical beans to is such a stress relief. I've felt like I've been just a number to all of the past doc's I've seen, thus I haven't been forthcoming in all of my ailments and 'can you please fix this'isms.
Today I finally talked about getting my baby making area checked out. Husband & I have always had the pregnancy philosophy of 'if it happens, it happens' and rarely, if ever, use any birth control. Six years later we are still baby free (not that there is anything wrong with that) and we are starting to wonder if it's us that is broken, instead of the universe telling us it's not our time just yet.
I get tested next week for my progesterone level, and a whole bunch of thyroid shit. Then comes the scraping and analyzing of my lady bits.
Fingers crossed I'm still a girl who can make a baby with my man. One day.
And if not, I will fill my house with puppies.

Monday, January 9, 2012

I Want to Drink the Gatorade

I can't remember exactly how old I was when I first started to contemplate suicide. I recall a time in grade seven when someone dropped a jar at school, and I was helping to clean it up. I felt drawn to picking up a large shard of glass and seeing what it would feel like to slice my wrist. Not deep, but just enough to ... I don't even know. I was wearing a thick leather bracelet at the time, so I figured I could hide the injury. So I did. A sad, pathetic loser huddling in the hallway of her elementary school calculating how long she had until anyone would be walking by. Slice. Bleed. Cover. Then sporting a Club Monaco sweatshirt for the rest of the day to ensure no one noticed the Kleenex and tape under my bracelet.

Walking through the forest when I was eleven, a friend of mine at the time was showing me a short-cut home from school. She took me through a little gully and told me a story of a girl who had hung herself from a tree after jumping off of a log into the gully. Whether it was true or not, I had no idea, but I remember thinking that it was a good spot - off the beaten path, easy to set up a rope, a long enough fall to make it end quick.

At thirteen & fourteen I was silently miserable and drugging my sorrows with OTC drugs. Extra-strength Tylenol, Ibuprofen, sleeping pills, T3's, allergy medication, and whatever else I could sneak from the medicine cabinet, or buy from the store with my allowance. Some days I was taking 10-15 pills a day. Other days I could function without. Some days my body hated me for it and let me know that what I was doing was wrong, but I didn't care. Numbing my anger and misery was all that mattered.

When taking too many pills caused me to throw up too much or give me the worst bathroom sessions ever, I had to find a new release. I started cutting my self with a pair of scissors. I had a couple of cats, so I made sure that the cuts looked like cat scratches - in case anyone noticed, or asked. My stomach, my forearms, my legs, my cheeks, my neck, my breasts. Everything was open season.

When the cutting didn't hurt anymore I escalated to hitting myself. First just punching my forearms; enough to hurt, but not leave a bruise. Then I began to punch my legs, hips, ribs and eventually my face. It was always enough to hurt, but never leave a bruise (or if it did, I hid it). Sometimes I used a heavy candle holder to bash my arms and legs. Other times I used the edge of my wardrobe dresser or bookcase. Looking back, I can still feel how soothing it was for me at the time. That's so fucked up. So fucked up.

In my late teen years there were many times I craved death. One night after a bad night with a long-term boyfriend, I went and sat on the tracks, waiting for the next train. I chickened out because I was more scared of my dad being pissed that I would be late coming home... If he only knew.
The train passed by just as I was walking in the door.

There have been many times that I have been tempted to jump in front of a bus, or OD on my meds, or drive off the road over a cliff. It would just be so easy to end my trouble. But I couldn't hurt my family that way. It would devastate them, and that stress is something they don't need. They have enough issues to worry about already.

I have been off and on suicidal for two thirds of my life. Some days closer than others. Many days rationalizing, planning, writing, and realizing it's wrong. It's a slippery slope, but I have been up and down it so many times, that I have created my own set of stairs from the treacherous climb to the light. I don't have the urge to live. I don't feel like I have a life inside of my self. I feel like an empty shell that is based on what others want me to be. I am not authentic. I never have been. I am not real. There is no me. I am a fraud. I can't continue to pretend. To be OK. To be happy. To be satisfied.

Tell me please - where do I go from here?

A Whirlwind of Crazy

This last month has been a challenge. Many bits of life have crumbled and brought Husband and I to rock bottom. Both of us have been scrambling to find work, which is virtually non-existent. Husband is owed a large chunk of money from a client who refuses to pay for whatever jackass reason, leaving OUR family to struggle to put food on the table. It makes me so mad to know that this well-off client is holding a financial carrot in front of Husband just because he can. Small business owners in construction have no rights. Liens mean nothing. Going to court takes money that we don't have and time we can't spare. This frustration meant that we didn't have Christmas this year. My two 'new' jobs are fun, but would be better suited for a fifteen year old. I walk a friend's dog and I work at a local concession stand that my friends own. Clearly my resume is going to be super awesome by the end of the summer.... Husband is making the greatest sacrifice. And if I could physically do it too, I would. He has decided to head north to work on the oil rigs. He won't be leaving for a few more weeks, so we have time to spend together before he is gone for a month at a time. We've been apart for long times before - it sucks - though I know we can do it. But the money. Oh, the money. It makes it so worth it. We can be COMPLETELY out of debt in 6 months. Six months. SIX MONTHS. We won't be living paycheck to paycheck, struggling to save for a down payment for a real home, knowing it's only a pipe dream. So far 2012 has some potential.