Things I Love Thursday - Part 30

Show me an American woman who does not have body issues of some kind and I will show you a Unicorn.


I'm always a bit wary of posting about losing weight as it seems to have a backlash.  And honestly, I'm one of the people who would lash out about someone bragging about losing weight if I felt bad about myself.  So what to do, what to do?

I don't work out every day and I don't eat completely well every day. I do try to be awesome every day though.

I have done the work, so I am going to say what I love today is feeling proud of myself.  To quote that little kid in the video who was so proud of himself, "I feel happy on myself!"

It's not about a number on a scale, it's not about being able to fit into a certain size.  It's about feeling good and healthy.  I still over eat sometimes, but I manage it better.  I am not taking a pill, I am not starving myself.  FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE, I AM NOT TAKING A SHORTCUT.  I am simply eating well and doing moderate exercise, and guess what?  All that bullshit about exercise and eating well making you feel better?  WELL GOD DAMMIT IT IS TRUE. 

Mentally, this is huge for me.  As a fat kid, I had issues from the very beginning.  My mom (who has always been thin, but has food issues as well) would ask me, "Do you really need to eat that?" about everything I put in my mouth.  And she did it from love and wanting me to be healthy, but I still hear it.  Add that to about a million other voices over the years telling me I'm not good enough because I had extra weight.  The voices are still there, still telling me that I don't have breasts, I just have fat.  That I don't matter unless my stomach is flatter.  That my huge thighs will never ever look good in a pair of jeans.  That's why I wear dresses all the time.  That voice never really goes away.  But I can choose to not listen to it, or look at the facts and say, but I DO like the way I look - and more importantly - feel, today.  So I win today.  I WIN MOTHERFUCKERS.

I snuck food from when I was really little until about last summer.  My mom gave me wheat germ and carob and all natural nonsense and I snuck to the neighbors house and ate their sugar cereal.  I snuck junk food from the vending machines at the ice rink when I skated all those years.  The shame of that is something I never ever wanted to talk about.  It was easy for me to admit I snuck booze because I admitted I was an alcoholic.  But admitting to sneaking food is just degrading to me.  How screwed up is that?  I can admit to sneaking booze, but not food.  Because I was still engaged in the behavior of sneaking food until relatively recently.  I take away the power of the secret by admitting it.  Ah yes.  You would think after 10 years of 12 Stepping I would get this shit.  I need to be hit over the head many times before I change.  This food and being healthy thing was no different.  Sure I was vegetarian for 20 years, but that was completely about not wanting to eat animals, not about my health. 

Being able to fit into clothes that a year ago I couldn't fit into is just affirming that I am doing something right.  The vanity driven side of  me loves that feeling of being able to buy smaller clothes and having people tell me I look great.  The softer, more vulnerable side thinks, "Oh my god, I must have been disgusting before."  I've been wanting a baby for the better part of 3 years and it got the best of me.  I didn't focus on myself at all, just the wanting to get pregnant.  

Last June, I made the decision that I wasn't going to let everything pass me by.  I worked with my trainer and friend, who I will always credit with starting this whole process, and she got me going. 

It's true what they say, once you get going, it just gets easier.   I don't work out a lot, I don't always eat right, but I do try to be awesome every day.  I want everything in my life to be driven by wanting to be better.  And I needed to put down the self pity and the fear and the ICE CREAM - MY GOD THE ICE CREAM I HAVE EATEN - in order to do that. 

We women help each other out by inspiring each other to be better.  To be kinder to each other and more accepting.  By not giving the head to toe scan when we greet each other.  It's fun to be fashionable and pay attention to what makes us feel good physically.  The smile is what we all should be focusing on.  The great big smile of confidence we can beam at each other.  But it really all starts inside and it's such a metaphor for living a spiritual life.  You have a good center, a good solid core, and it reflects on the outside - TO the outside.  It infects everything and everyone in your life.  Just as having a negative core, or no solid center can infect everything around you in a negative way.

I LOVE that I know without a doubt that being skinny does not equal being happy.  When I was at my bottom from drinking, I weighed 110 pounds and was homeless, broke and drunk.  The saddest I've ever been.  And yet, I loved how thin I was.  I thought for a long time, why did I quit drinking just to gain weight?  Well, I know now that getting sober is the single greatest accomplishment I will ever achieve and that staying sober means being healthy inside and out.  Including not being skinny, but being healthy. 

I LOVE feeling good. I LOVE that I know how to quiet that still small voice in my head and heart that tells me I'm not good enough. Because I am good enough. And I want to be better.

I don't strive for happiness.  I strive for living honestly and happiness comes as a by-product. 

Straight from Sally Boy's Big Mouth

He's a boy.  His name is Sally.  Sally Lou Kitty, or Sally Boy or Sayee as we pronounce it. 

Kitty Yoga.

He is a total goof.  He is super sweet, but love bites and licks.  It's his thing.  He runs around and cries like a baby, LOUDLY, when he has to poop.  I will never forget the first time my now husband was at my place when we started dating and he met the cats for the first time.  I heard Sally running around crying all loud and I just started laughing, and said, "It's what he does when he has to poop.  It's the poopin' cry."  Chris just laughed and laughed.  I knew he was good.  Sally's like the ambassador of cats.  He is way more like a dog than a cat.  I don't think he knows he is a cat.  Even people who don't like cats usually like him.   He's got some issues.  Who doesn't?

Here's the story.

I got sober in October of 2001.  I lived in rehab and a women's halfway house for 6 months after that, so around July of 2002, I returned to Chicago.  No job and just trying to stay sober, I spent my time outside in the backyard reading and going to meetings. 

One afternoon an orange tabby came into the yard and unlike most stray cats in the area, he came right up to me meowing.  LOUDLY.  Not only that, he jumped right into my lap and started drinking my iced tea!

Here's the thing.  Where I was living at the time, we already had three cats.  My lovely Eliza Jane Doolittle being one:

So, day after day this orange cat would wander into the yard and sit on my lap and read with me.  I wandered around the neighborhood asking if this was anyone's cat.  I put up signs.  He looked super healthy and talked so damn much, I knew he had a lot to tell me.  But he also seemed so friendly, that I thought for sure someone had to be missing him.  I fed and watered him and he just kept coming back. 

One day though, everything changed.  He showed up, jumped in my lap and I was petting him only to find a penny sized hole in his chest.  It was shocking!  I cleaned him up and put an ace bandage around his chest and we were done for the day.  I sincerely kept thinking he had to be someone's cat.  The next day he came back and the bandage was all askew and the hole was there, gaping, looking at me.  If I didn't take care of this, who knew what would happen. 

I convinced the guy I was living with that we needed to take him to the vet.  And as a side note, if I took him to the vet, we were taking him in.  I had looked long enough for someone to claim him and nobody did.  This was the last straw. 

We went to the vet and turns out SOMEONE HAD SHOT HIM WITH A BB GUN.  My poor, loud, obnoxious, overly friendly and super needy boy had been shot.  The vet got him all patched up, put on antibiotics and sent us on our way.  He told me that I had brought him in at just the right time, as infection was setting in and had nothing been done, he would have died. 

If you ever meet Sally or have met him, you know he loves to talk about being shot. He acts like he's all gangsta and shit about it. He says something like, "Dudes, I lived on the streets and I got shot. Hey dudes, did you know I got shot?" We have heard these tales over and over. I have to remind him that I was there. He is the sissiest little guy, but he apparently did live on the streets in the city and he was shot. So there you go.


My Sally Boy.  Who I thought was a girl when I took him to the vet, turned out to be a boy.  As sissy like as he is, he survived being shot by some punks I would love to get my hands on.  He came to me for help.  He found me when I was newly sober and needed him most.  To say we have a bond is silly to some, I know.  But we helped each other. 

We have a happy little family today, as my dear Dumpster Husband fell for Sally and Eliza immediately.  I'm so grateful that we never had to deal with him not loving my cats.  They are his now too.  Eliza and he have a relationship that makes me jealous sometimes.  They are in LURVE.  I like to think Sally is my boy, when in all truth, he would love anybody who showed him attention.  So I live in denial.  Which is just fine with me. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 29

Most days I have no problem coming up with a Thing I Love.  If anything, the problem is narrowing it down.  Today, though, I needed a bit of help.  Then my friend Klonnie at The Klonopin Chronicles said, what about music?  Too broad?"  And yes, it is broad.  We all like so many different things, and there's so much out there.  I am so random in my tastes that it can vary wildly, but today I choose to focus on one artist in particular. 

Mr. Ben Folds.  My darling, my sweetheart, my soul.  I told my husband the other night, "almost the greatest gift you have given me is Ben Folds".  And it's absolutely true.  My husband has given me many gifts of the emotional sort, most of all his gift of being the funniest person I know, but THIS? This is special. This doesn't happen very often.

I was late to this party.  I never knew Ben Folds.  And when DH and I got together in 2007, that very first night, he sat me down and had me listen to some songs.  I immediately knew 2 things that night, that my life was changing forever with this man I would soon marry, and that I found another new love.  Another soul connection in this Ben Folds person.  So yeah, that was one helluva night for me. 

DH had the lyrics from this song framed for my Soberthday a few years ago.  It lives above our bed. 
Google this song and listen if you don't know it.  And I am the luckiest. 

Ben Folds Five was the group years ago and they are equally important.  Do yourself a favor and listen to well, all of it.  The group and the solo stuff. 

I won't go on and on about how Ben Folds gets me and gets life and struggle and emotion and the music just reaches my core instantly.  I won't go on about how he's a fucking genius and cannot even be explained.   I won't say that he is funny and smart and nerdy and sings his experiences in life and love and the music - my God.  How does a human come up with this incredibly beautiful and poppy music?  My tiny brain cannot grasp this.  My life is incredibly richer because of him.  I will say, I am entirely grateful that he deemed us worthy of his gift.

Here's just a tiny sample.  First killer to the core beauty:

Onto angry break up song.  SO GOOD.  Give me back my black t-shirt:

Then astute observation:

You know how to use the Google.  Go get lost in him like I do.  I get lost in all these and I have every single song on my ipod. 

So I thank my dear Dumpster Husband for that one night, that fundamentally changed my entire life.  My soul and my heart and even my head have been so much better off due to those few first hours.


***EDITED to add that my friend Chris is doing a music challenge, and I posted this before I knew about it.  SO this will have to do as my entry.  I am confident of it's heft.  Go check out From the Bungalow please!

Myth, Myth! Yes.

I'm here to dispel some myths.  About me or other humans who may have the same tendencies as I do.  I want to share some pretty blatant stereotyping that people love to engage in with me.  It's funny a lot of the time, and I partake in making fun of myself a good deal.  Which is all fine and good until it goes too far and people just act like jackholes about it and the proverbial straw is broken. 

PRETTY GIRLS ARE BORING.
This one grinds my gears lately.  I had nothing to do with the way I was born or who I was born to.  I had no call on my genetics.  I look this way.  It doesn't define me as boring.  I'm a pretty girl.  So what.  Get over it.  It's about the least interesting thing about me.  It's sometimes a character defect.  I hear women especially say all the time, "pretty girls don't have a personality" or "pretty girls just rely on their looks and they don't develop other facets".  I call bullshit.  If you have read me or know me, you know I am so much more than a pretty face.  I resent the fact that women who think of themselves as less than pretty - and who the hell can say what that even means - get to bash me because I look like I do.  So, if women (in their own words) who think they aren't pretty get to be funny and smart to make up for it, then what, am I just shit out of luck because of my looks?  I don't accept that.  I strive for way more.   And all you pretty girls out there that think you have it made, you lose.  You will have nothing one day soon if that's all you have. 

VEGES ARE JUDGEMENTAL.
I've been Vegetarian since I was 18.  That means I've had 20 years of people giving me shit for MY OWN CHOICE.  Seriously, why does it make people so angry that I - NOT YOU -  choose to not eat flesh?  I cannot tell you how many people want to spar with me about this.  After 20 years, I still don't get it.  Again, I don't tell you how to eat, why don't you not worry about what I'm eating.  This is a stereotype for a reason, and there are a lot of militant Vegetarians and Vegans out there who will be dicks and never make a good impression.  I am not one of these people.  I love animals.  I cannot eat them because I love them so much.  Done, the end, finished.  You don't need to be so aggressive with me because I skipped the turkey and drink almond milk.  And never said one word about it, I might add.  People are afraid of what they don't know I guess, and I'm open to talking about it, but with all the aggression directed my way over the years, I'm wary.  But I will talk if you calmly ask me about it.

SOBER PEOPLE ARE A BUZZ KILL.
Ah yes.  Here we are.  Katy is sober and therefore, she will judge me for drinking too much.  NOT TRUE.  Again, if you hang out with me at all or read me, you know that I encourage drinking by people who can handle it.  My husband drinks.  My husband eats meat.  And he will be the first to tell you I have never once tried to alter either of these aspects of him.  If you drink, great!  Have some for me.  I can't do it.  Anything you feel about me being sober is about you.  It's not me giving you any kind of vibe about it.  Deal.  Also, I'm way funnier and sharper sober than I ever was drinking. So today, I have the best time sober. Which means WE have the best time when I'm sober.  You're welcome.  It's only a big deal if you make it a big deal. 

BLONDES AREN'T VERY BRIGHT
Ok, first of all, I am a bright shade of blonde.  I play a dumb blonde.   I get to surprise people all the time with my depth and my brain.  Seriously, people are shocked.  It works to my advantage.  Now, I know I am ditsy and spazzy and tend to be a bit daft, but truly, hair color does not determine brain quality any more than wearing spectacles does.  That just means you have bad eyesight.  Thanks genes!  And I do wear glasses too.  So, suck it. 

Have we cleared all this up?  I am just another bozo on the bus, like all of you.  Let's not get all ugly with each other.  Life is hard enough.  Live and let live? Works for me. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 28

I loved going to Disney and Universal.  Most of it.  You know, if you take away the mass humanity and kids screaming and general wanting to punch people in the throat. But you can't, when you go to a place like that, so you just accept that's how it is and try to enjoy the hell out of it.  Which is what we did.

I went with my in-laws.  Who are awesome.  Seriously.  I couldn't ask for a better family than my husband's.  His sister is such a blessing to me in that we have the best time together.  And his parents are the kindest, dearest, funniest people I could ask for.  That's why my Dumpster Husband turned out so kind and funny. 

Anyway, I'm going to share some pictures, like a "what did you do on your vacation" thing.  I'm not posting pictures of my in-laws, cuz as I've said before, not everybody is a total spaz and likes to plaster their photos everywhere like I do. 

Here we go:

This was the first day.  Kelly, my sister in law, found our perfect little family.  Gag me with a spoon.  

Prancing around like a silly ninny while my Dumpster Husband and my Father in law play serious golf.

We stayed at the Irish bar.  Good beer and even Irish Dancing.  I was pretty spaztastic about that. 



The Magic Kingdom.  We're having so much fun we are whistling Zipedeedoodah out of our assholes!

Oh, and THIS happened. I mean, none of us could recover.  My DH is the reason I know anything about The Beatles.  To say he is a huge fan, is an understatement.  Blew our minds.

We went to the Hall of Presidents on Presidents Day.  I teared up a few times.  It was pretty sweet.

and this:

W's boots.  If they weren't behind glass, I would have barfed into them.

Moving on to Universal Studios..........

 I mean, this was so cool.  The Harry Potter thing was totally worth it.

How happy am I to be at the Owl Post?  So damn happy.

Seriously awesome. And that Harry Potter ride was kick ass.  Every second of it. 

A Little Lucidity sent this to me. And truly, I wish you all rock bottoms. Nothing changes unless we are against a wall.  At least it didn't for me.  J.K. Rowling, thank you for Harry Potter and whatever got you there. 

After hitting rock bottom and getting sober, THIS is the only beer I can drink.  It was pretty yummy. 
Cream soda-ish. 

so cool.  The conductor kept yelling, "WEASLEY!".  It was really cute.

Moving on.....

Oh hi Iron Man.  What nice thighs you have.

I even got into my cherry retro swimsuit, which I haven't done in years. And here's the picture of the hot model wearing it.  Because there's no way I'm sharing me wearing it.  But it felt so good to fit into it, that I got a "I'm so happy on myself" moment. 

This guy was outside the condo we stayed in.  I saw several squirrels down there who were quite thin, compared to our Chicago Dumpster Squirrels. 

All in all, a great few days.  The weather was nice, the company was lovely and and the sights were pretty awesome.  I found I still have some pure joy for some things Disney.  I teared up during the Peter Pan ride.  No lie.  I love the Haunted Mansion and Pirates ride.  Even It's a Small World was lovely to me.  I'm not as bitter and cynical as I think I am sometimes. And I'm pretty happy about that.  Now, did I buy mouse ears or t-shirts?  No.  But I don't need to spend a ton of money on shit to prove I had a good time.  That's what blogs are for. 



Things I Love Thursday - Part 27

Guess what?  I LOVE ELEVATOR SPAZ DANCING! 

Now it's become a "thing" over at the Facebook page.  And because it's that page's 6 month anniversary, I am going to re-share the fun over here. If I ever get in an elevator by myself, you know I am taking a pic of spaz dancing for you guys.  There have been 4 pictures in 6 months, so you know how rare it is to land in a Tower elevator by oneself. 

And yes, Security at the Tower, they love me.  I'm like their special little sister.  Something about a small space, covered in mirror and I can't help myself!  I MUST DANCE. 

And because I'm a big ol' spaz, THIS is what that looks like. 

Right now we have 6,278 Divers over there.  And MOST of them are so great that I can't imagine what I ever did before carrying them all around in my pocket at all times.  

If you feel so moved, share your own elevator spaz dancing photos on the Facebook wall over there. 

We would love it. 

Now, LET'S DANCE!

If those don't make you feel how much I love you all being here, I don't know what will. 

Joy, baby.  PURE JOY.  It's a SPAZABRATION. 

Thanks everybody for reading the blog and playing the FB page.  xo, Katy

Flashback into Judgement

Church Camp. Probably 1989 or so.  That's me with the shoulder pads, the madras shorts, the bandana, the big socks and the bad perm. 


The good old days. A simple mistake I made today while putting on my earrings made me think of being in church camp and doing this with an ice cube and a safety pin.

Status update that I posted today, got me started here:

I pierced my ear - second hole, left ear - at church camp when I was 15. I haven't used that hole in 20 years. This morning my earring accidentally went in there no problem. I think there's some Back to the Future thing happening now. Like that hole is a portal into the past. I feel the need to tie a bandana around the knee of my ripped jeans that are peg-legged with two different popped collar Izod tops and matching socks. HOLD ME.

Things were so simple when I was a teenager. And yet I thought everything was so complicated. I was super churchy girl. I was a figure skater. I was a virgin. I never had a drink until I was 18. I was dunked in the river, newly baptised Born Again at 16. Those were the glory days. I didn't know any better. I had no experience with people who were different than me. I thought I knew love and compassion, but I had no idea. It wasn't shown to me, so I didn't know how to show it to others.



You remember this girl?  She was an idiot.


In 1991, I had my first drink.  And then it all busted wide open.  The shit hit the fan.  I became an alcholic and that meant destruction every where I turned.  The switch had been flipped and I was in for the long haul.  By my own hand.  Why do we not appreciate what we have when we have it?  I think it's the way of the young that we just don't know any better.  The older I get and the longer I'm sober, the more I can hear myself saying, "this is so good.  appreciate THIS.  RIGHT NOW".  And I actually do.  Living in the moment is not an easy concept to learn.  But it's crucial to contentment.

When I was young, I thought I knew everything.  I also thought people who didn't love Jesus were bad and were going to Hell.  I judged because the church taught me to judge.  I was judged by the church so I thought I was bad.  Now of course I think that's all a bunch of fairy tales, because I've lived too much and met too many great people who are not Christians to know that to be true.  I am so grateful for every single thing and horrible experience I've gone through.  I never would have learned compassion otherwise. 

It's great if you love Jesus.  I don't think Jesus is the problem.  It's the organized religion that's the problem.  Love and compassion are my church.  Acceptance and tolerance and love.  Did I say love?  I don't need anything more than going through the shit storm I went through to know that is what heals.  It allows me to feel compassion for others in a way that cannot be taught by books or by sitting in church. 

I will not judge you for your religion.  All I ask if you don't judge me for my decision not to participate in one.  I'm not FOR abortion.  I am FOR human rights.  I am for Gay marriage, or as we like to call it, marriage between people who love each other, same as Dumpster Husband and I. 

Living in the moment.  Free of judgement and conditions.  Sounds strangely like a dog.  Which leads me back to what I believe to be true, dogs are better than humans.  I strive to be more like a dog. 

Dixie at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, September 2011

Things I Love Thursday - Part 26

I love POPCORN!

I eat popcorn for dinner at least twice a week.  We have one of these magical inventions:

Which is called a Whirley Pop and yes, it's easy to make in a regular pot on the stove, this is a luxury for me to have this baby which helps make it better ALMOST every time. 

I can't really do microwave popcorn these days, it's not natural and it doesn't taste as good as stove made popcorn.  Little oil, little salt, done.  Boom. 

There are times I sprinkle Nutritional yeast on my popcorn.  I didn't believe it at first, but it actually tastes kinda like Parmesan cheese on there and it's super good for you. 

The problem is I had to go to stupid Whole Foods to get the stuff and you know how I'm not a big fan of Whole Foods.  I always feel like they are waiting for me to say or do something incredibly stupid in there.  Which, let's face it, I usually do.  I dropped a whole watermelon last Summer, and I know they've had it out for me ever since.


Why the hell am I so smiley on a "Wanted" poster?



But I digress, this is about popcorn.  I truly think that  whoever first popped a kernel of corn should have a holiday named for them.  Sadly, I bet Mr. Popcorn Guy would get a lot more response than some of the other people we have holidays for. 

I still get excited when they start popping.  Think about that for a second.  A tiny kernel of corn pops into a glorious pillow of deliciousness instantaneously in front of our eyes.  But if I open the lid and try to watch, as I have done 7,495 times, I get a hot splat to the face.  Doesn't stop me.  I think it's miraculous. Just you try to stop me from trying to watch that bitch pop.

I LOVE POPCORN.  And I'm not afraid to show it.  Is this too much?

Fashion

Or what about this?

Classy popcorn ring. 

STD in ring form anyone?

Ahhhhh.  That's just right.  If I were to wear food rings, which of course I would because I am now obsessed with the ring below that I found yesterday on Pinterest. 

Not just a salad ring, but THIS salad ring. It's so beautifully rendered. 



I'm so grateful my husband didn't propose using any kind of food as a prop.  I would still be trying to poop that ring out.  No time to dilly dally, especially when it comes to popcorn.  GET IN MY MOUTH IMMEDIATELY.



It's Easy to be Awful

It is incredibly easy to be a hateful bitch.  It's so much harder to be kind and forgiving and compassionate. My go to emotion is often anger, but then it's not anger, it's usually hurt and fear and it manifests itself in anger.  When I step back and identify what I'm feeling 9 times out of 10 that's what it is and I can respond more appropriately. 

Then THIS happened this morning, and I shared on the Facebook page:

Co-worker in the kitchen: "So, what show is your Husband directing these days?"
Me: "It's called the Theatre of Making a Baby, and it's all VERY dramatic."
Co-worker: "ok, well good luck with that." EXITS. And scene.

AWKWARD.

The Underachieving Domestic Goddess, who has become a dear friend online and writes a great blog, said "You just wear your heart on your sleeve..there is nothing wrong about living out loud - you just have to do it knowing people aren't always going to know what to say or how to react as cool as a cucumber like you! Not everyone has that grace!"

Honestly, I don't know how else to do this anymore.  I can't NOT be honest to what is going on.   And yet, some situations demand that I be more careful and respectful of other people's comfort level.  I am only responsible for what comes out of my mouth, but I don't really want to alienate everyone else.  Some people yes, but not everyone.  *Wink*

When I lash out at someone, it's because I didn't stop and think and identify.   I do this still, a lot.  I am way better than I used to be, but damn, it's still there.  I am a hot blooded Irish woman and my temper is right there, all the time.  If I can get a handle on what I'm feeling, I can do better.  It's self preservation to be venomous and bitter and hateful when I feel threatened.  It's also humor and sarcasm and snark.  I use it constantly, and honestly, it's helped me to survive.  I have no plans of giving it up, but I have to be mindful of what's really going on.  It's covering the deeper shit that for me, can't be covered. 

What does revenge do?  It keeps the cycle going.  I can't afford that luxury.  I can't afford to be hateful and resentful and bitter and angry.  That shit will cause me to drink.  Maybe not today and maybe not even next week, but if I hold onto that, I will drink.  Because that is WHAT I DO.  I drink.  To numb feelings and to escape my reality.

This is the ongoing challenge for the rest of my fucking life.  One day at a time, no matter what, I have to be responsible for my feelings and not drink because of them.  This is hard work.  This is going to be tested over and over and over and I'm going to fail.  MISERABLY.  But then, that is what apologies and amends and forgiveness are for. 

This working on yourself bullshit is just that sometimes.  BULLSHIT.  But I would so much rather this than the alternative of never feeling anything. 

I have thoughts of revenge and dream of someone getting what I think they "deserve".  I have delicious moment of revenge filled fantasies.  But that is not my call.  Who the hell am I to say what someone deserves?  I deserve to be miserable and unhappy and drunk. If life were fair, I would be dead.

I acted abominably when I was using.  I hurt everyone around me continually with no regard for their feelings and what I was doing to them.  NONE.  Today, I try to pay that all back by trying to do better, to BE better.

I don't WANT to work on myself all the time.  I don't.  But I have to.  It's part of the deal I made when I got sober that I would do whatever it takes to stay sober.  So, I begrudgingly fight the good fight and try harder.  That includes failing.  Fail every day and often!  That should be my motto.  It's the picking myself up and taking responsibility for my actions that get me back on the right path. 

This life I've been given is a gift. I hear myself sometimes and I want to spank my own face for how cheesy it all sounds.  But then I remember, you know what?  This shit is deadly serious.  I won't apologize for taking it seriously.   I was given a second chance, and I don't ever take that granted.  Not for one second.  

Things I Love Thursday - Part 25

I LOVE not being pregnant.

Here's the deal, I want to be pregnant, we are trying to be pregnant and I know there are an awful lot of you out there who are as well.  So every month when I get my period, I get a little sad.  But not today.  NO WAY. 

I'm not discussing details of our situation, and know that you respect that.  This is my view, my humorous way to deal with my situation, so don't get all angry or sad on me ok?  No need.  We will get there however and whenever we are supposed to. 

Today, let's talk about how great it is to NOT BE PREGNANT. 

1. I get to wear skinny jeans with no bump.
2. I get to do whatever the hell I want whenever the hell I want to.
3. If I weren't a raging alcoholic, I could drink as much as I wanted and not feel guilty.  But I digress.
4. I get to swear my head off with no repercussion.
5. I get to teeter around on my heels and run and fall with no worry for whether I'm hurting another being inside me.  If I get hurt, it's just me, and that's easier to deal with.
6. I have a ton of me time.  I keep hearing "enjoy it while you can."  And well, I really do enjoy it.
7. I've gotten to get and stay sober for a good long while before I bring a child into our family.  A gift that a lot of people don't get.  My child, HP willing, will never see mommy drunk. 
8. We get to be idiots at Disney World later this month and not worry about being careful or dragging a baby along.
9. I get to spend quality fun time with my wonderful Dumpster Husband.  Which, let's face it, when you've only been married for almost 3 years, is still pretty fucking great.  He's the person I would pick above anyone else to spend time with.  And that alone is way better than a lot of couples can say.

My new favoritest picture of all time.

Here's the list of things to keep in mind when speaking with me:

1. Mentioning babies is good.  I love babies!  I don't get sad when baby talk comes up.
2. Don't worry I'm sensitive when someone else is pregnant.
3. You won't upset me by telling me YOU are pregnant.  I'm super happy for you!  Unless you are just an asshole and I wouldn't be happy about anything for you.  But most, times, YAY, happy!
4. I'm not being snarky and sarcastic and hiding how I really feel you guys.  Sure this is a sucky position to be in, but in NO WAY is this a terrible situation.  No one is dying.  We are all good.  This is not a sad situation.
5. Whatever you are feeling about me feeling is YOUR FEELING.  Let me decide for myself how I feel, ok?  Most of the time it's pretty damn good and grateful.

My life is great today.  How many people get to say they LOVE their husband and they LOVE their job and they LOVE where they live and they LOVE being sober and they LOVE writing a good blog that people really seem to like?  This is the good stuff.  I've got the cake.  A baby would just be icing.

Beware the Taffy Pull on the Train

Train riding.  DH is sitting right next to me but THERE WILL BE BLOOD if I post any pictures of him, so just picture how cute he is sitting next to me, M'kay?

We live in Chicago.  We have a pretty great transit system here, The Chicago Transit Authority, which my smarty pants husband tells me what the original name of the band, Chicago, until people got all uppity with them about rights and such and they just went with "Chicago".

Anyway, we mostly take the Brown Line these days as we live on Sesame Street and the cute little train station is literally right across the street.  It zips us downtown in about 40 minutes if all goes smoothly. 

It's pretty cool that after 20 years of taking the CTA, I still get a kick outta going over the Chicago River when we get into the Loop.  I just do.  And at night too when it's all lit up?  Gorgeous. 

This is a status I posted yesterday, and inspired this post, as it's pretty incredible:

I just emailed DH that I left my bag with my lunch and Spinning clothes on the train and got all the way to the office before I realized. Ran back to the platform, not really sure why, but lo and behold, there was my bag just sitting on the platform. I'm sure someone was yelling at me about it when I walked off, but earphones, you know? Now I just will be paranoid that there's anthrax or gingivitis some shit in all my food. God Dammit.


Anyway, DH's response is "do I need to pin your keys to your coat when you leave the house?" I said, "No, I have my keys, asshole. LOVE YOU". THE END. *curtsies*

I'm still pretty amazed that happened.  And that my husband is so god damn funny. 

Now, there are some crazy things that have happened over the years in my experience on the train.  Back in the day, I would ride in blackouts and not remember a thing.  At 3am, by myself.  MIRACLES have happened in my life.  I know.

The rush hour commute is all just hipsters and yuppies and folks like us schlepping back and forth to work.  The real fun happens on nights and weekends.  That's the CTA money shot, if you will.  And I look forward to going out late or on off times, as it increases the chance for crazy.

The most concerning story I have is back when I lived in Oak Park, which is just west of the City. Morning commute, roughly 7:30am.  Packed train.  Me, sitting by window, guy sits next to me on the aisle.  With a newspaper.  I was reading a book, so I didn't pay any attention until the newspaper started making noises and started bobbing up and down rapidly.  Yes, this dude was having a taffy pull right next to me.  I looked up and saw horrified passengers looking at me.  I will never forget this woman's face and she mouthed, "GET UP".  And I did.  I got up and off the train and told an Officer what had happened, but the train was already off to the next stop. 

Needless to say, I don't trust any guy who reads a newspaper on the train now.  I GOT EYES ON YOU, BUB. 

I have a little friend who loves to ride the train because when she's sitting, she gets the perfect view of a standing gentleman's package.   Little perv.  Whatever floats your boat, right?

There are many reasons the city is great, and the CTA is just one.  You don't get the up close and personal crazy anywhere else.  Most days it's fine, but sometimes if you are lucky you get a truly heartwarming or gut wrenching story.  I actually like the crazy, I crave the crazy.  But I don't get it as much as I used to.  Maybe I'm not putting myself in dangerous situations as much as I used to and that kinda makes me feel old and sad.  But in another way, it makes me feel like I'm maturing and taking care of myself.  I used up about 8 lives when I was drinking, so I need to make this 9th one last. 

I will pass on the public taffy pulling, but I would take some crazy Jesus nonsense spouting now and then.  I have to seek out the crazy on the train these days.  But they still find me - on the street and in the alley - in my life. Sometimes in my mirror.  I attract the crazy.  I'm grateful for that.  Keeps me on my toes. 

Well, this is my stop.  Keep your pervy ball-balls to yourself Mister.  Or at least in your pants.  Nobody wants to see that.  Especially not at 7:30 in the god damned morning. 

Things I Love Thursday - Part 24

I am a misfit.  I am an alcoholic.  I am a late bloomer and a social undesirable. I am not who advertisers cater to.  I am less than.  I am a woman closer to 40 than to 30.  I am childless, for now.

But you know what?  I wouldn't take back any of the shit that I've gone through that have made me who I am. 

I LOVE MISFITS.

I was in jail.  I was homeless.  I had hallucinations.  I had delirium tremens.  I was hopeless.  But today, I choose hope. 

I have compassion for those that most people choose to look down on or ignore. The undesirables.  They are who I feel closest to.  It's an odd thing to feel that way, when in reality today my life is fucking amazing.  I have a soul that is full.  I have a spiritual bank account that helps me get through every day trials, big and small.  But I didn't always have all this.  I did the hard work.  And I keep my past very close, so I don't go back there.  If people hadn't been kind to me when I had nothing, most of all a full soul, I would be dead. 

I wouldn't be funny if I weren't an alcoholic.  People who knew me in high school don't remember me being outspoken and funny.  And part of that is due to getting older and perspective and confidence, but a lot of it is due to going through so much pain that you can laugh at yourself. 

We are a proud lot, us misfits.  I am talking about people who don't fit the social norms and how we are always trying to fit in but then one day it just clicks, that, you know what?  I don't even want to fit in.  And we say screw all that bullshit and grab our own truth by the balls and live our own god damn life. 

This is not an Oprahism.  This is not a rah rah let's all love on each other and blow smoke up our own asses post.  This is simply to say, I LOVE MISFITS. 

When you can safely and confidently say, I am recovering, from whatever the hell you went through, you are free.  And to people who want that, it is there for you. 

My heart beats loudest for animals and for misfits.  And for misfit animals.  When people admit their shortcomings and, even better, can laugh at them, they earn my respect.  When people want to get better, and I see them trying?  It makes me want to try harder. 

I can't rescue people.  They need to rescue themselves.  But I can try to help.  Many people helped and are helping me.  The circle goes on.

I'm inspired by fighters.  I'm intimately acquainted and in love with addicts and alcoholics.  But I'm also, on this side of it, inspired by friends and family of addicts and alcoholics.  It's a special kind of hell those people go through with the sick people they love. 

When you really think about it, we are ALL misfits in some way, shape or form.  Some of us hide it way better than others, or they think we do.  I choose to yell it out in the hopes that it helps someone else.  My single greatest joy on earth is helping other alcoholics.  It is better than any drunken high I ever got. 

I love misfits.  And to those of you out there trying your damnedest to get better - to be better - please keep going.  You are not alone, and I promise it does get better.  We all need each other.  I say it a lot, it's not easy, but it's so worth it. 

I've been OBSESSED with this song by Rihanna.  I have it on repeat and play it LOUD.  And now that I see this video, it makes it click even more. Sorry for the ad at the beginning, but stay with it.

 

We found love in a hopeless place. What an anthem. It's so good until it's not. And then we have to find love in a hopeless place. And we can. And we do. And we go on. And we get better and thrive more and more.

There are times you have to walk over the bodies.  It's true, if we don't take care of ourselves, we can't help others and if it's sucking you dry, it's no good for anyone.  But we can try to help.  Life is meant to be lived well.  Not with things or money, but with relationships and with laughter.  That is my goal anyway.
 
So MISFITS?  Rage on.  I am proud to be among you.