It’s no secret that I’m in a slump when it comes to this blog.  It happens yearly.  I’m not sure the exact cause of it this year, but it’s lasting quite awhile.  I still love writing and do a lot of writing for other projects and/or personal use, but this space feels like it’s kind of sucking my energy

I’m in the midst of some craziness of schedule right now.  I’m finishing up some big projects for school, deciding on a grad school, throwing a 4th birthday party for Cam (holy crap, my baby is 4!!!), applying to another school to take one class next semester, attending a funeral, trying to find time with my husband, and trying to work out my issues.  I’ve mentally got a lot going on and for the first time, I’m not wanting to share it with the whole world.  People are mean, people don’t get it, people suck.

I’m not quitting altogether.  In fact it’s usually once the pressure is off that I can start writing creatively again.  I’ll still be on Twitter and Facebook and will be popping in here, but it’s going to take some energy that I don’t have right now.  I guess what I’m saying is add me to your feed reader so when I do update you know.  There’s no need in checking here daily.

I’m leaving a lot of things unfinished on here, but I’ll pick them back up later.  For now I need a break.

Ok crew, I’m working on a consumer behavior project and I really need your help.  Please follow this link to fill out a short 5-question survey and you will help me make an awesome project even more awesome.  In case you have no clue what finials and cupolas are, go here and here.

All the answers are anonymous, not that there’s anything revealing asked.  It’s kind of a dry subject, but it means a lot to me.  So, GO!

If you do this for me, I promise that I will jump up and down and scream “YAY!”.  Perhaps I will even record it for you.

The summer right after I graduated high school was a tumultuous one.  I was dating a guy who had once been my best friend, but after a car wreck on prom night in which he cracked his head on the windshield, had turned into someone I didn’t recognize.  He was controlling, pushy, overbearing.  He was jealous and didn’t trust me.  He was a leach who took my money.  And yet I stayed.

I was young and forgetful.  I was on Paxil to deal with my lifelong depression issues, but I often forgot to take it.  This resulted in my head feeling fuzzy and me finding myself on the brink of a breakdown.  I would fly off the handle over the silliest thing, break things, punch walls, and generally act a damn fool.

I had already been accepted to Oklahoma State University for college, where I was going to attend veterinary school.  OSU not only had the best vet school in the surrounding states, it had one of the best in the country.  I had all the plans laid.  I had a roommate, a dorm assignment, a class schedule.  But 2 weeks before classes started, I panicked.  I had graduated in a class of 56 people and wasn’t sure I was ready for such a large life change.  I had a job I loved as a vet tech in a local small animal hospital.  I had the crazy boyfriend who wouldn’t be moving with me.  I had mental health issues that were not under control.  I had my own little place to live.  And so I backed out.

With two weeks left before fall semester started, I enrolled in a local 4 year university.  I decided to work towards my Biology degree there and then transfer to Oklahoma State to finish out my veterinary medicine dreams.  The advisor I was assigned got me into all the classes that I needed and then convinced me to enroll in his Soil Science class.  He assured me it would count as an elective, but I later would learn that he needed warm bodies in the class in order to keep his agriculture program alive.

The night before my college life was set to begin, I got a knock on my apartment door.  My landlady was there with her best friend and a locksmith and she informed me that I was being kicked out.  As I stood there in shock, the locksmith got to work changing the locks on the place.  This whole thing was so bizarre, but there was nothing I could do about it.  I was living in the apartment for free in exchange for taking care of this lady’s animals while she was away, which was for months at a time.  With tears streaming down my cheeks, I called my boyfriend to help me load up my stuff.  By midnight that night, everything I owned was in the bed of my truck and his and we drove away from the first place I had ever lived alone.  I was angry and hurt.  And in no way ready to begin college for the first time the next day.  I spent that night awake on the floor of my boyfriend’s grandfather’s house and knew something needed to change.

If only I had known how much my life would soon be different.

To Be Continued…

This past week it became clear to me how much I avoid things, especially things that will cause a confrontation of a situation I cannot handle.  That makes me sound like a control freak, but it’s more like an anxiety issue.  I didn’t realize how much of a problem I had with anxiety until I started seeing a therapist, but….wow.

Ever since Cam was born (and I’m not blaming my issues on her, just using that as a timeline), I’ve evolved into a different person.  Pre-baby (or even pre-marriage as they both happened in the same year) I was outgoing, cheerful, a people-person, a party person.  I had friends by the dozens.  I wore my heart on my sleeve.

I don’t know if I became more cautious or if my post-partum depression really screwed me up, but I’ve since left that person behind.  I’m now a home body.  I have only a handful of really close friends.  I don’t do well in large crowds, I have a hard time expressing myself.  I’m cynical and make jokes all the time.  (In fact, I recently had to tell a bunch of people that I make fun of them because I love them.  If I’m just nice to you all the time, I probably don’t like you that much.)

But even more than that I became this anxious, cautious person who avoids things.  I’m only now getting to where I don’t have a moment of panic when the phone rings.  I’ve long preferred written communication (text, email) because it gives me time to think about my response.  Why?  Because I’m bad about doing one of two things: 1) Saying something that I didn’t mean and/or stammering and talking weird, or 2) Agreeing to do something just to be nice, then later regretting it and trying to get out of it.  Couple that with fear of confrontation and you have yourself a real nutcase.  For years I let my phone ring without answering it.  I would rarely call people back.  It’s not because I was rude or didn’t like that person, it was because I freaked out when it came to talking.

I’ve quit jobs in the past via email because I’m too chicken shit to talk to someone face to face.  In high school I broke up with a boyfriend on a sheet of paper because I didn’t want to talk it through with him.  (So maybe this goes back to pre-motherhood a little bit).  Granted, we dated just a few weeks.  I wasn’t cold enough to end it that way with a long relationship.

I had a full-blown anxiety attack Thursday night.  The kind where my throat closed up and my chest hurt.  I was getting hysterical while Shane tried to talk me through it.  I didn’t want anyone to touch me or talk to me and I sat on the back porch for awhile, trying to breathe in the cold air.  I had never let my anxiety get to that point and it scared me.  The reason?  Well, there were several things stressing me out, but it was the fact that I thought I had screwed up my chance to graduate in the spring because I was too scared to go speak with an advisor to do a degree check.  All these years of going to college and I was terrified to have a professor look through my transcript to make sure I had done all I needed to do.  It turns out that I still have time to get it done (not much — just the end of the week), but I couldn’t believe that my nerves had the ability to make me freak the hell out.

I know this is all irrational and that’s what embarasses me.  I’m a woman, a mother, an educated person and yet let something so silly hold me back. 

Now that I have pinpointed what’s going on in that area, I’m hoping that I can work to overcome it.  The progress I’ve made so far comes from the strange cocktail of meds that I’m on, but I’m ready to work through this.  I really don’t want to be on so much medication for the rest of my life.  I take 7 pills a day.  Seven.  Before you completely freak out, they’re not all depression/anxiety meds.  They’re for my Hashimoto’s and immune-related problems.  But still, I have to use a pill box.  A pill box with 4 different spaces for each day, tiny spaces in which my drugs almost don’t fit.  A little old lady, heading to the nursing home, lacing up my orthopedic shoes, pill box.

So until I get to the point where I can reduce my sheer number of drugs, you’re welcome to bring over your Metamucil, your cane, and your blue hair dye and we’ll play a game of cards together.  If you call first to make plans, I promise I’ll answer.  Just don’t show up at my door unannounced.  I haven’t made that much progress yet.

Do y’all remember this cute little puppy?  She’s still cute and she’s still a puppy, but she’s not so little.

At 12 days shy of being a 4 month old, Miss Ladybird weighs in at a whopping 35 pounds.  She’s a beast, this one.

She spends her days playing catch with herself, eating deer poop in the backyard, and sleeping in Shane’s recliner (or in Cam’s, as pictured above).  She’s somehow weaseled  her way into our bed at night, but that king sized bed isn’t big enough for two adults and a dog that will one day outweigh me.  We are soon going to move an old recliner into our room for her to sleep in at night.  Yes, she’s that spoiled.

We didn’t realize how spoiled she is until we went camping last weekend.  My family witnessed Shane talking baby talk to her: “It’s okay, Birdie.  Mama’s getting your sweater so you’re not so cold.”  This coming from a big guy like my husband is hilarious.  I commented that we are now THOSE people, the ones whose dogs are treated like children.  I always made fun of people like that who came into the vet clinic, now I am one.  My brother and sis-in-law found a magnet that says “My best friend has four legs” that they threatened to buy us.

We normally don’t allow our pets to be such a part of the family, but Birdie has worked her way into our hearts.  I am suddenly finding myself as THAT mom who picks the kid up from school with the dog in tow.  I am trying to figure out how to convince Shane to include the dog in our Christmas card picture.  I’m a loser.

But how can you not love this face?

5:00 last night found me in the kitchen trying to fake my domestic prowess.  My plan was to have dinner ready when Shane walked in the door so he would think that I’m awesome and on top of things.  About 10 minutes later he called me to tell me he would be home late.  He had a glass company come out and repair his windshield while he was at work.  Although they had come highly recommended, he was upset at the job they had done.  I was in shock that he had decided to replace the windshield without telling me, so all I heard him say was blah, blah, blah, “scatched paint”, blah, blah, “broken cowl”, blah, blah, blah, “weather stripping”, blah blah “the truck is fucked up”.  He told me he was going over to the company to talk with them before he paid.

30 minutes later he send me a text that says: “I’m at Glass Masters on Admiral just east of Memorial just in case.  I am refusing to pay and they are getting hostile.  She admits that the scratches are their bad but not fessing up to the broken cowl.” 

This text freaked me out.  I didn’t want this to get hostile.  I returned his text and asked if there was anything I could do.  The reply?  “Call the People’s Court.  Guess they are going to call the cops and file a complaint and it is off to small claims we go.”

If I wasn’t freaked out before, I was about to have an anxiety attack after that.  More than anything, I was pissed and ready to fight.  I texted back to make sure he wasn’t kidding and he wasn’t.  I called my sister to vent when another text came in: “I need you to head up here and bring the camera.”  Super.

Shane called me on my way there (it’s not a short drive) and told me that the police officer was waiting for me to come photograph the damage.  He told us to go ahead and pay or he would have to arrest Shane on criminal charges.  Since the glass was in the truck, it would be stealing.  They had already smashed up our old windshield. 

I got there to find a very amused cop who was more than happy to be on a non-drug-related call.  He was eating his dinner in his car while Shane  paced the parking lot out of frustration.  I went to photograph the truck.  I kind of chuckled because the damage wasn’t as bad as I had expected, but I knew that it was a matter of principle at this point.  Glass Masters was trying to say that the damage came from the last time we had the windshield replaced.  The problem is that it’s a new truck and the windshield had never been replaced.  We were at a standstill.

Shane went in with the officer to pay.  Inside the lobby were two security guards.  This thing was escalating quickly.  When the guys came back out, the officer gave us all of his info and offered to help us if we needed to go to small claims.  He also suggested we dispute the charge on our credit card, but we’re not doing that.  We legitimately put that charge on there.  We want to dispute the glass company.

We’ve had 24 hours to calm down now.  We realize that we don’t really have a leg to stand on.  First of all, we don’t have any pictures of the truck before yesterday.  Perhaps I would have thought of it if I knew Shane was going to have them replace it but I doubt it.  It’s our After pictures and our word against theirs.  But the real kicker is that what we paid for the windshield is just under the minimum limit for small claims.  I don’t see that as a coincidence.  Conniving company.

So now we have to fix the paint before it rusts, clean up all the broken glass inside the truck (oh yes, they left broken glass IN THE TRUCK), and wish we had never done business with them.  We will report them to the Better Business Bureau, but I think that’s almost archaic these days.  I don’t know anyone who checks with them first.

If anything, I just want any Tulsa-area people to know to stay far away from these morons.  Not only do they do shoddy work, they will argue with you and declare it “fucking bullshit”, and you will end up in a mess that you never wanted.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m really suffering from a burnout surrounding the work that goes into blogging.  I’m tired of trying to be funny, poignant, witty, or unoffending.  I’m tired of looking at stats and crunching numbers.  And I’ve realized that I’m not the only one.  Everywhere I turn, there seems to be a blogger who is experiencing a burnout.  I would like to blame it on the time of year, but I’m wondering if we’re not seeing this whole blogging craze fizzle out.

My feed reader is crammed with posts to read, but I can’t bring myself to do it.  With the exception of about 5 blogs that I read daily, the rest of them are all concerned with advertising, money, hatefulness, sponsors, marketing, and on and on.  There are feuds, there are people overreacting, there are childish dramas taking place.  It’s all leaving a bad taste in my mouth.  Remember when blogging was unheard of and we all did it because we loved to write?  When it was just a hobby, not a money-making ploy?

Yes, I have ONE ad on my site.  A text link.  Because I felt that it was related to what I’m pursuing right now and might be of interest to my readers.  Would I like to bring in more money?  Of course.  But I don’t want to sacrifice my thoughts or my love of writing in order to do so.  I’ve done product reviews of things of interest to me and things I think my readers might purchase.  I’ve not been paid for a single one.  I do it because I believe in word of mouth.  Will I put up more ads in the future?  Probably. 

I’m just fed up with the majority of posts being peppered with ads that are obviously irrelevant.  I’m tired of blogging conferences that are only about money-making.  I was outraged at BlogHer Con this year when I heard someone say that bloggers should never write for free.  That’s like saying I should never watch football for free.  Both are my hobbies, not my career.  I would love to attend a conference about the passion of online writing, the meaningful relationships that can be built, the outlet it provides.  I’m tired of hearing about how to increase my stats or build my social media following.  I want people to like me for ME, not for my numbers.

I think that the further we bloggers get from true writing, the more this thing will spiral downwards.  It’s already happened in the 5 years that I’ve had an online writing presence.  I used to relate to all of you mothers who struggled to raise children, buck the norms, and be women.  Now all I hear is how these moms have to hire nannies to watch their kids so they can write their blogs.  I don’t relate to that.  Do I begrudge them?  Not at all.  I just am not interested.

So I’m doing some thinking.  I’m tired of worrying about offending.  I’m tired of worrying who’s reading.  I’m tired of looking at it from a business standpoint.  I’m ready to be me.  I got caught up in the craziness, but I’m ready for it to settle down now.  I will soon be writing for another site, a site in which I review stuff and may one day get paid.  And I can’t wait because it sounds like fun.  But the day this all stops being fun is the day I walk away.  And on this blog I plan on revamping like I mentioned previously, and on writing about my life.

I only hope that some of you agree with me.  I miss having down-to-earth blogs to read.

1.  The dog was restless all night.  She normally sacks out, but she paced nonstop.  Needless to say, I got little sleep.

2.  I spent a good 20 minutes trying to decide between the pink argyle or the black and orange fleece DOG SWEATER for said restless dog to wear camping this weekend.  What the hell is wrong with me?

3.  I found the perfect candidate for the People of Walmart website, only I didn’t have any picture-taking device with me (you know, a camera).  Instead, the image is forever burnt into my brain.

4.  I just sent the following text to my husband: “There is Asian poultry all over the front yard.  I kicked a prize fighting rooster and then ran for my life.”  I only wish I was joking.  Damn Vietnamese neighbors and their cock fighting.

5.  The dog is still restless, I’m tired, and Cambry sounds like she’s been smoking Lucky Strikes ever since emerging from the womb.  In 5 short hours we will all load up into the truck and make a 2 hour drive together to go camping in 40 degree weather.  This day rocks.

Due to the overwhelming response of emails following my recent post about my miscarriage, I thought that today’s post would be fitting.

Today is National Pregnancy Loss and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  It’s not as recognized as other awareness days, but it means a lot to those of us who have been there.

I found this website about remembering our babies by following a Twitter link from Her Bad Mother.  Thank you Catherine for helping to get the word out.  I encourage all the moms, dads, and family members of lost  babies to visit this site.  It won’t make it better, but it will help you to know that you’re not alone.

That’s all for today, I’ve done enough writing on this painful subject lately, but I wanted to pass this along.  To all of my readers who have lost babies/infants, I’m so deeply sorry.  I love you all.  Let me know if there is anything I can do for you.

You know when you have one room in your house that’s really dirty that you choose to avoid it rather than clean it?  You keep the door shut and pretend that it doesn’t exist.  Am I the only one who does that?

Well, this blog is my really dirty room.  I wander by it daily, but I scream and slam the door quickly.  It’s been so random and sporadic lately.  I can’t stand the color scheme anymore.  I can’t stand still using a wordpress.com blog.  I hate that it’s all disorganized and I’m too busy to clean it up.  I want to write but have to tell long backstories to catch you all up so close out the window instead.

I’m hoping when I get my life organized, I can get this site organized.  I’m in the process of writing a marketing plan for a business, doing a consumer behavior project for school, dealing with a sick child and 2 parents with the flu, and still finding time in there to shower.  On top of that I’ve got some new Hashimoto’s issues going on and I’m trying to fire my shrink who won’t take no for an answer.  I don’t feel stressed, just very busy.  My feed reader has hundreds of new posts to read and I’m really tempted to mark them all read, but I’m too OCD to do that, so I’m slowly wading through the last month of your posts.

I’ll be back.  I love you all (except for the mean people) and I’ll try to make time to bring you quality stuff very soon.