Trials and Tribulations of being a nerd...

When I was in grade school all I wanted in the whole world was to be one of the popular girls. I had a best friend from about 1st grade through 5th or 6th, and she was friends with a lot of the popular girls, but it never seemed to carry over to me. At least that was my perception. Looking back, of course, a lot of them did try and my best friend really tried, but I was trying too hard. I guess I really began to understand that about my junior year in high school. I had this amazing group of friends that weren't the popular kids, and had more fun than I ever had in my life. I have also become the fun person that people really want to be around, I make friends all the time, it's amazing! It carried over into adulthood when alot of the very same kids I tried to be friends with became friendly with me. I was weird, and I knew it. I'm not really sure what it was that made me weird, but I was and it took me a lot of time to figure that out. Part of my problem at that age was that when I had a friend I wanted to be the only friend, and have all the friend time focused on me. To me a group of friends meant that I wasn't an important one. Wow, it's truly amazing the amount of things I missed out on just because I couldn't share. It definately carried on at home too. I have a really special relationship with my mom, and I think I felt cheated that my brother and sister took up time too, especially when mental illness began to play a role, and the focus had to be more positioned on whatever sibling needed the most help at the time. I was angry, how in the world could it be fair that they got to be the center of attention just because they were sick, or struggling. I really do understand much better now, and I'm glad that I can see it for what it really was, because I feel more poised to take on any situations like that that may arise in the future. Really, considering the history of my family it's a very real possibility that one of my boys could be facing the same fate. I think that I'm beginning to have the tools to work with it if it does come up.
So today is the day that I go back to work, and I know I'm going to be looked at differently, which I don't really want, but I understand. I have been completely honest with my bosses and coworkers about how this all came about. I've decided that it's not worth being ashamed about, and it certainly isn't worth the judgement and all of the rumors that can start. I work with mostly women, and that whole thing can get out of hand! I'm just going to focus on the goals that I have set up for myself and charge ahead, what anyone thinks is just their issue. It may be easier said than done, but I'm ready to answer questions. The one thing that I'm really not too ready for is pity. I don't want that. It's not worth it for anyone to feel that way about me, this is an issue that I should have addressed years ago, but I was so afraid of people looking at me like the poor sick girl, and I didn't want to turn out like other people that I knew who always had whispers and pointed fingers, and someone always watching them everytime they fall. Instead I waited until I was so far gone that being forced to get help was my only option. I look at people with mental illness a lot differently now. The majority of people that I met in the unit were just like me, perfectly normal (insert laugh track here) but in desperate need of what I like to call a vacation from reality. It's no Hawaii, but there was time to think, and that's something I have never really taken! I don't remember a time when I could just be alone and enjoy silence. I've always taken the noise as just a normal part of life, well having 3 boys running around there is no such thing as quiet! I have requested about 1 hour a day to just sit in quiet, maybe reflect on some things, maybe nap... who knows. All I know is that 2 weeks ago I couldn't have even asked for fear I would be putting someone out of their way. Really the cool thing now is that I don't quite feel so stressed when it is noisy and I'm not finding myself stressing about things that are out of my control. That feels really good, so wish me luck on my first day back, and I'm sure I will be writing soon!

A little history...

I'm sure that when I was a kid I was a pretty happy one, my parents loved us and worked very hard to make sure we were well taken care of. Of course this was all after the death of my wife beating sperm donor of a father. Yeah, I've spent the last 28 years feeling like my life as an adult would be dependant on being nothing like that horrible man. I really have no contact with his side of the family even, by choice on both sides I believe, as I'm pretty sure they resented the fact that my mom got married to my dad and he adopted us. I have memories of some strange things from those first couple of years of my life. One was good, the rest would terrify a normal adult, and you know what, I'm going to go ahead and share some of that. (I'm sorry mom, but this needs to be done)
I was never abused or molested by this man, or anyone in his family, but I vividly remember him hitting my mom for buying the wrong kind of pot pies. I remember a lamp being thrown, and a rifle being pointed directly at my mom and I. I remember feeling tense a lot, and hiding in a big green chair that we used to have. I remember the night he died and feeling so scared that I wasn't going to have a family anymore. The police officer tried to teach me how to whistle in the car ride to my gramma's just to keep my mind off of all of it, then we got to my gramma's and everyone was crying, and although I knew what was going on, I was way too young to understand.
That's just sort of the quick rundown, I have 1 good memory, but oddly enough everyone in that memory is dead but me, and about 2 weeks ago I could easily have joined them. I could have left my kids with a lifetime of wondering if it was their fault that I was gone. Not my smartest move, that's for damned sure! I can't imagine my kids being my age and having such strong feelings about me being gone, I know the way it hurts, and I know how it feels to hate someone that isn't even there. That whole forgive and forget thing doesn't work that way!
Now that I'm home I feel like I need to start a different routine. I'm excited to get things going again, but maybe part of the reason I was struggling so much is because I've left myself wide open for failure. Maybe it's because of all the unanswered questions from when I was little, or maybe I'm just really lazy, I have no idea. I do know that it takes a lot for me to really stay involved in something and it has caused problems in every thing I've ever started. I don't feel sorry for myself, but I did need to let it out there, because if I don't then I leave myself open to stay exactly the same. There is only so much medication can do, I have to be willing to open myself up and at the very least accept the things in my past that have always been pushed to the back of my mind.
While I was in the unit, I met a really nice girl about my age, we'll call her Becky. Becky was checked in because she had a breakdown and chased her hubby down with a 2 by 4, ripped a door off of it's hinges, and had she been left to finish what she started, she probably would have killed someone! Now this girl is little, she might weigh 110 soaking wet, and has the sweetest personality I've ever seen, my mom totally fell in love with her, but it just goes to show that anyone can fall into sadness and pain, hell, really. (yes I don't believe in hell, I'm using it metaphorically). She really helped my realize that beauty is something that we all have and we can easily lose track of, so my goal for today is to not dwell on the past, and just make the absolute best out of everything that I have. I may not have much money, but I'm the richest woman alive.

Hey! Amemba me????

I want to appologize to anyone who has been looking forward to reading this blog. Me and my whopping 13 followers haven't had much touch lately, and I have decided that today is the day to begin to let you all understand why. When I started this it was sort of a mix of self encouragement, and a way to hold myself accountable when I screwed up. It really did work for a while, I felt the encouragement coming from friends, and it really helped keep me on track with my weight loss and excercise (which on it's own is a type of therapy). Then, true to Jamie form I tapered off, more and more until I pretty much just gave up. Don't get me wrong, I love writing, but this just lost the importance it held for me at first. It wasn't just the blog either, I lost interest in everything, this, work, tv, kids, hubby, pretty much everything I loved. I kept going about my daily routine in this sort of robotic way, even leaving the majority to my sister, and basically doing nothing. I might go to the gym once a week, I might cook a crappy dinner every now and then, and then I would turn into crazy super woman and be happy with everything and wait on my husband and kids, get things done, do everything I could to keep things going well, all the while getting no fulfillment out of it. John knew I wasn't ok, and everytime he asked I gave him the generic "everything is fine" answer. I had no way of really coping with feeling so down, so I started drinking a lot again, followed by spending copious amounts of money on groceries because I was convinced that my kids would starve. I can spend 1000 bucks and have nothing to show for it. Pretty much like everything I do, I put my heart into it, and in the end I have nothing to show for it. I'm what you might call lazy, at least that is what I thought. I charged along in the same routine, feeling less and less accomplished everyday, holding in all of this pain that I have probably been harboring my whole life. I have been trying so hard not to have the same mental issues that run in my family, that when I finally broke, I really broke. I didn't think that I was ever going to be able to dig myself out of this painful hole, and I thought it might not be a bad idea to just take a couple bottles of sleeping pills, drink a bunch of whatever booze I could find and just die. I'm serious when I say that I was within hours of trying. John asked me what was going on, why I couldn't just be happy, ever, and I bawled. There was nothing left, I'm 32, no career, no respect from my kids or my husband, not even able to make enough money at my piddly job to help pay bills. I don't know that I have ever cried that way. Suddenly painful memories from the last 25 years of my life flooded in and I panicked. My sister called the ER, and off I went. I am mortified that it went this far, I was so sure that I would be able to take care of myself and no one would ever have to know that sadness that kept me from being anything better than what I was. I'm supposed to be the strong one, the one who can keep it all together, and now I have a whole team of people watching and critisizing me, and making judgement calls as to whether I would be a danger to myself or others. (guess what????? I was! Shocker) Basically I spent 2 weeks in a psyche ward, the very last place I ever thought I would be. Later when things calm down to a dull roar I will explain about my adventures in the cuckoo's nest, but for now I will tell you I am elated that it happened. I had been misdiagnosed as just depressed before and the meds were doing more harm than good. Yep, I'm bipolar, and I have post traumatic stress disorder, and I was told it was a surprise that I had made it this long without doing anything to myself. So, for today, the good news is I'm home, John is making sure that I have a little time to readjust, and I'm pretty sure I will be ok. Thanks to everyone for all of the blind support, it was incredibly helpful and I promise to explain more next time!!!

Time flies...

I have never in my life felt like such crap. Over the last few weeks I have had this crazy lung thing going on, and I can't believe how rundown I feel. I just today, worked out for the first time in a couple weeks, and I made it less than 20 minutes. That sucks bad dude... (I miss Wyatt, borrowed dude from him.) I am, as of this morning, 8lbs heavier than I was a few weeks ago, and I had already plateaued there. I kind of feel like I gave up hope altogether. Ok, not really, I just let the ship take on a little water, and it is all centered in the front... Only 8lbs and I feel sick about myself! Fact is I would love to go workout, and have that precious hour to myself, but I can't breathe, it hurts so bad, especially when I'm tired!!! This infection crap is for the birds, and I feel bad because I simply don't have the energy to do all the things that I would like to do, I mean John is officially home! I would love nothing more than to make the house nice, and make dinners nice, and just make it peaceful while he settles into home life, but I just feel shitty. (yes Mom, I am calling the doc on monday!) Wyatt got this garbage too, but he ended up in the hospital, and not here, with me, where I am comfortable, and I can see him, and snuggle him, but with his dad who is 5 hours away. Don't get me wrong, he couldn't be in better hands, that's not the issue. The issue is that I can't be there with my baby, when he needs me. Imagine my surprise when I found out he has asthma, and that was the real problem... How in the hell did I not know this??? I mean, I'm with him all the time, you would think that by 9 years old I would have seen some sign that he may have it. You would think that I would not be so selfish as to ignore the one thing about my amazing boy that really needed attention, especially since his step-brother has asthma, and I know what to look for with him! I really don't know how I missed it, but I will spend my life making up for it. He is so amazing, and I hope this is the only time I have to worry this way! His dad was awesome about it too, kept me informed, sent pics, and even had the doc call me to keep me accurately updated. I couldn't be more thankful that Wyatt's dad and I have been able to maintain a healthy relationship. At any rate, the little guy is fine, still some issues to deal with, but collectively we will all make sure he is fine!!! Hooray big people!
Have I ever mentioned that I have a wonderful husband? Why, yes sir (or ma'am, calm down feminist) I have this wonderful husband, and as of tomorrow, he will have been my husband for one whole year!!!! (gasp! cough!wheeze... just this lung thing, calm down!) He has really made me feel like a lucky woman. He gets me, we get eachother, which, to be honest is a little scary seeing as how neither one of us is balanced in the least! We laugh at eachother, we fight with eachother, and we just take care of eachother. We have found a way to meet in the middle, even though in a lot of ways we are so vastly different. We have found ways to support eachother, even when we weren't sure how, we have found ways to love eachother when we weren't sure how. We honestly love eachother, in spite of ourselves, and through all that my friends, I have found happiness. In our odd little, definately not normal way, we have found a way to love eachother, (including family and friends!) and i can truly say I'm happy. I write this now, while John is at the gym and I am feeling like shit... Through sickness and in health... Happy 1st Anniversary baby!!!! Thank you for this beautiful, crazy life! I love you!!!!!

Falling off the wagon...

One thing I have never really been good at is completing anything. I have quit or backed off of every single endeavor to better myself that I have ever started, from band in grade school, all the way up to this very blog. You may be asking yourself "why would Jamie stop things like that? She is so ________ (insert positive adjective here) you would think she would be inclined to make it known that she is even more sparkling than we all believe..." Ok, maybe that was a little over the top, but I can read minds, so I just wrote down what you were thinking. But, alas my friends, I am a quitter. 6 months ago I was so motivated, so ready to change my life for the better, and now here I am, slowly letting myself fall back in to old habits. A little more than 2 weeks ago I weighed 35 lbs less than when I started all of this, I felt pretty good, my self esteem was doing not as well as I would like, but it wasn't bad. My birthday was awesome, I was surrounded by family, and friends and I partied like a rockstar. John came home the next night, and things were really looking up. Then without warning everything fell apart. I have been falling back into depression for a while, but it sort of swallowed me alive all at once. The combination of my kids going off to their respective summer homes, me getting older, John changing jobs, and contracting pneumonia reared it's ugly head. CONFESSION TIME! I have been a total glutton for the last couple weeks, and all that time that I spent losing weight, I undid a third of it in a very short matter of time. I had been stuck at around 190 for about a month, it was my own fault because I was cheating on a regular basis, but the last couple weeks have been all about stuffing my face with as much crap as I could find. Crackers, chips, chocolate, fat, fat and more fat. I wasn't even doing it because I wanted to, it was at least 85% emotional eating, coupled with being sick and not being able to stick it out at the gym because I'm way too exhausted from being sick and depressed. So why, you may ask, have I come to my senses now? Well, yesterday I went to see the doctor for the second time in a week to try to shake this stupid pneumonia, and she mentioned that I had stayed the same weight since the last time I saw her, 3 months ago. Truth be told, I just gained ten pure-fat pounds in the last 2 weeks, my blood pressure is up, which she said could be because I'm sick, but I really think that gaining so much in such a short amount of time may have contributed to it. I see the vicious cycle starting over again, depression leading to weight-gain, leading to depression, leading to weight-gain. Luckily I have this really wonderful husband who, inspite of me, is willing to hang on and be supportive, no matter what. He hasn't said a word about how I look, because he knows that it would only be painful coming from him at this point in time. After speaking to the doctor yesterday, I talked with him about it, and he said that he was glad that I had other reinforcement, because he didn't want to hurt me. Believe it or not, that was one of the nicest things he could have said to me at the time, and all at once I realized that if I don't shape up, I'm only putting myself in the position to lose it all. Not because I think that if I gain the weight back he would leave me, but because I know how I function, and I would be more angry, less inclined to do anything at all, and in the end not really worth much to anyone. I can't do that to him, and I certainly can't do that to my boys, and most of all, I can't do that to myself. When I started this whole healthy lifestyle thing my emotions were pretty fragile, the only reason that I didn't try to kill myself was because I knew that my kids would be alone, and ultimately seperated, and that was the last thing that I could have wanted for them. I was only about a step away from even caring about that, and how I feel now isn't all that far off from those feelings. The moral of the story here folks, is that I need to shape my shit up! I felt so incredible for a while there, and now that I fell off the wagon I feel like I've been chewed up and spit out by some dirty dark monster. No more I tell you!!! I'm going to win this battle if it kills me, and the knowlege that I will live longer for my family, for myself is going to be the ultimate motivation. NO MORE FATTY McFATFAT!

Wrinkles!!!!

I know, I'm totally the person who just loves to bitch, I'm fully aware that I do it all the time, I'm sure I can help it if I try, but why bother, it's kinda my thing? I bitch about things that I will laugh off in public, I complain about money, health, kids, just about whatever I can think of and I certainly have no problem bitching about myself. So officially today is my turn for the hot seat. I feel pretty accomplished in the amount of weight that I have lost so far, and I really enjoy working out, in fact, my trainer is going to teach me how to box, just for something fun to do. I've never been in a fight in my life, and I really have no intention, but I feel like it's something that I really need to learn, I want my biceps to look good too! My issue is that my body is NOT 23 anymore, I had this vision in my head of how marvelous I would look if I just tried, what's killing me now is the wrinkles and strechmarks that were recently being hidden by malted hops and saturated fat. I have forehead wrinkles, one of the boys asked me if it was a scar! I didn't really think that I would have to deal with this, of course a couple years ago I didn't think I would be dealing with the few gray hairs I had either, and now I don't dare not have my hair dyed! (see the good thing about that is that I love doing silly stuff with my hair anyway, so it's an easy trade off.) I have to wonder how many people look at me and give me the "you're too old to look like that" stare. I'm guilty of doing it too, we all are, but truly I reserve it for women who are obviously competing with their 25 year old daughter for a boys attention. (You don't wear a bikini to the grocery store when it's 58 degrees and rainy out.) This whole train of thought makes me realize even more that one of the things I'm really best at doing is finding something to be unhappy about. I'm going to be 32 in about a week, of course I have wrinkles, and I was signifigantly overweight with both of my pregnancies, of course losing weight is going to make stretch marks look weird, that's life. Truth is I don't do much with my skin, I'm not a lotion and potion person, but I think at this point in life I need to be. I am finally becoming happier with the shape of my body, and I certainly don't expect to be super model gorgeous, maybe the best thing I can do is start a little pampering, huh? Maybe have someone else do my hair on occasion, or even get my nails done and invest in some olay stuff. The kind of ironic thing is that I have enough make-up for about six Las Vegas hookers, and I do just pile that shit on, but I looooove eyeshadow, and I think I would pay money to have someone show me how to do a good smokey eye without looking like the drunk toddler in a clown family put it on me! So you see in all of my self loathing, I can still manage to put down a couple of goals! I'll be damned...
Next thing is I'm about to be nearly childless for the summer. What the hell am I going to do with myself??? I'm going to have to find a sitter, cuz I am going to need to work out like 5 hours a day just to average out all the running I do. I won't need a ton of groceries, I may even be able to go vegetarian for the summer, lose another 15 or 20 lbs. Maybe I'll go stay with my cousin, I don't know, I'm not nearly as good at making plans for just myself. Oooooh I'm going to find a job. Truth be told I've been looking, but billings really isn't an easy place to find a day time job, and it's not like I can leave Logan alone at night!!! Who knows, maybe I'll find a band or something... a life, whoa, I just blew my own mind!

Lucky I can remember my own name...

One thing anyone close to me knows for sure is that at some point in the near future, I WILL do something to embarass myself, and probably in front of, or to someone I know. In the last week I have run in to not one, but three (count 'em) THREE people that have said hi to me and been excited to see me, and I have no damned clue who they are. People I have known for years... I look right at them and smile and say hi and act excited and then ask "who are you???" I don't know why this is my week for it, I don't even really know anyone in this town, or so I thought, but I also really don't keep track of a lot of people, so I feel within my rights to be blunt when I ask. I mean who knows, it could be someone that I may or may not have had a sorted past with, and perhaps I would like to pretend like I don't remember.... there are children around.... So, if by any chance, you happen to be one of these people, I really do appologize, I promise that trick wasn't just reserved for you!
Next we must touch on the subject of music. Oooooh I'm a music snob, and a couple days ago I got to see 2 bands that I LOOOOOVE one of which is at the total top of my music snob list! But my list isn't what made this particular show so special. Wyatt has been the (2nd) biggest Foo Fighters fan since he was little. He used to say he was going to be a rockstar like Dave Grohl when he grows up, and he is still dreaming of it. John and I decided to take the older boys to see The Foo Fighters with us, and I can honestly say as far as the show went, it was amazing, and being able to spend that time with Wyatt and seeing his face when he got to hear his favorite songs, that was so incredible!!! This is the first concert in years that I have gone to and been honestly sober the whole time, that was wild! I actually remember the concert this time! The other band we went to see is Motorhead, one of the most influential metal bands in the world, and an absolute dream for me. Lemmy is like my drunk, not really attractive, smoking, old man crush! He's just cool as shit. So John suggested that we get some paint pens, and paint the car windows, and we did. The sides had the Foo Fighters logo and "Foo or bust", and on the back window I wrote "Lemmy is my dad", took pictures, and sent them off to my buddy Angel. They then got posted on The Blaze facebook page. I thought that was pretty cool, we were just having fun, but then we saw people taking pictures of it at Hooters, which makes me wonder how many other people took pics! Then yesterday on the way home, I was told that Lemmy's camp wanted to use the photo, and wanted to know who to credit!!!! HOLY SHIT! That's me!!!!!! You know what this means don't you??? This is the stuff that groupies dream of, minus the blow jobs! I get to possibly be a small part of the history of Motorhead, and the memory of the most amazing show I've ever been to will live on forever, somewhere!
Oh, and more good news on the homefront... We all survived the rapture without too many problems! Of course I wouldn't be going anywhere, but you would think the kids could go... but had they gone, I suppose the Foo Fighters would have been more drunk and less memorable. I really can't understand how so many perfectly intellegent people could give away their life savings to help spread the good word, then when it's time for the big guy to make good on some promises, it's a no go... Sorry folks, it appears as if the bus to the promised land was delayed, but may be a little closer in 5 months, so go ahead and stay hunkered down, and keep sending cash... wow... I can't wrap my mind around it.
And on that note, I must leave, but only for now... my bus is heading out to the laundry room.