A Surprisingly Sane Blog

Prompt: This one’s for you, baby. Dedicate a song to your condition. Why did you pick that song? Find a youtube or link to a version to embed in your post.

Limp by Fiona Apple

Click on the link to hear it.

Why did I pick it? I’m sick of having my ass constantly kicked by this illness, and I am forever angry trying to manage it. The song speaks for itself. Plus, Fiona Apple is my favorite music artist. She’s not just a musician, but a writer, and a damn good one at that. We speak the same kind of talk. I can relate to her.

This post was written as part of NHBPM – 30 health posts in 30 days: http://bit.ly/vU0g9J

“What is a disgruntled Catholic”

Um… buddy… do you really need me to spell it out for you? Like, really? Okay, fine. I’m feeling charitable tonight.

disgruntled: adj. displeased and discontented; sulky; peevish

Catholic: n. a member of a Catholic church

There. Any questions? Did that clarify it for you?

(source: www.dictionary.com)

James was invited to a dance competition for the first time. I wasn’t. The selections work on a point system, and he simply has more points than me from achieving higher placements in competition over the last few years.

Last year, this would have bothered me to no end. In fact, six months ago this would have left me spiraling into self-loathing, self doubt, and finally, a depression that muddled my life for ages. I would have refused to dance because being on the floor would have forced my inner dance hawk to fly out of my ass and scrutinize every step I took. The invisible criticism I felt from every onlooker who was actually admiring my dancing would have left me paranoid and panicky about socializing.

Yes, that is the true definition of Girl, You Are Seriously Fucked Up.

But that didn’t happen. In fact, I felt a surge of excitement for the first time in my life about this sort of thing. I looked up all the info for the competition, asked James to get the weekend booked, and went right ahead to see about booking the next competition. And I felt good and excited about all of this FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.

Something must be wrong with me.

Or may the Lithium, the therapy, and the better relationship has just made everything right.

Whatever it is, please don’t leave me. I’m feeling surprisingly sane these days despite some tough conflicts, and I don’t want to lose that.

Current Mood: Esctatic

Okay, that’s it. I’m officially A FREAK. Not just A FREAK, but the freakiest of freaky freaks ever allowed to touch this planet.

I know that every pregnant mother out there loves feeling their baby move. Oh, and babies, they love babies.

I am not that mom, nor have I ever been. I am not a baby person. They’re cute in an ugly old toothless man kind of way, precious beyond belief, and so innocent I almost squeal when I see them. But no, I’d like to admire a baby from a distance and never have to latch that little sucker onto my tit or have to tote it around. I am beyond thrilled to have two kids that can walk and feed themselves and require zero skin-to-skin contact with my (still perky, thank God for at least that since I didn’t get lucky in any other department) boobs. I am THAT MOM.

But here’s where it gets even freakier. The whole being pregnant thing, which I hated beyond the ginormous, sensitive-in-a-good-way aforementioned breasts, was weird enough without the fact that the thing growing inside of me was constantly poking at me from the inside.

I didn’t really like in-utero baby movement very much. It was exciting to know there actually was something in there that was going to be worth the extra pounds I was accumulating, but at the same time… sometimes the pokes and kicks irritated me and even weirded me out. I never knew when they were going to come, how hard my cervix was going to be jabbed, and frequently they jump-started my anxious thoughts, which any enjoyment that tried to poke through.

I would like to say, for the record, that all you moms who enjoyed pregnancy, loved all the pregnancy sensations, fell madly in love with your baby the second it tore out of your vagina, liked breastfeeding and baby-wearing and alltheotherbabyshitthatjustgoeswithhavingthebabyincludinghavingababy…

You Suck. And I’m jealous.

Yes, it’s no wonder I ended up in that mental heath crisis center after April was born. Shoulda’ saw it coming from the start.

Thank God I’m past that… and even more, I thank my husband for getting him balls snipped.

Current Mood: Alarmed

We have had guests since Friday, and all but two of us have been hit with Montezuma’s Revenge over the last two days.

Hugging the toilet at 5 a.m. is not a great way to start a lovely warm Tuesday.

Do’h.

On the flip side, the fireworks in Washington are OFF THE FREAKING HOOK! Amazing! Almost made up for the fact that we had to clean Julie’s puke out of the car.

Almost.

Current Mood: Sickly