I Can See Clearly Now

I know I haven’t written in a long, long time.  Partly, because I finally got my Vyvanse prescription!  Yay me!!!  So, yes, I really do have ADD!!!  The other part is just that I’ve been so dang busy!  Which is definitely a good, no great thing!

After many months of dutifully trying this and that for my doctor, he finally agreed to let me try Vyvanse.  My anxiety was decreased considerably with the Wellbutrin he made me try (Devil drug), so he let me give it a go.  Once we got past the dose for a 2 year old (sarcasm), and I got through the really horribly Wellbutrin withdraw, I really felt the benefits, and the clouds finally lifted!  I really did have a fantastic summer!  I had a fabulous time with my kids (which should have always been a given, but wasn’t), I was a much better wife and daughter, and I was, holy shit, FOCUSED!!!!  My anxiety melted and I was able to be just me.  I hadn’t felt that awesome in FREAKIN’ YEARS!!!!!  I had an awesome trip back home with my family, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself!  I was able to clear out a few cobwebs to make that happen and never, ever will I regret that I did.

Not sure where to begin, but I guess I’ll start with some of those cobwebs.  This all starts with our trip home the previous year (2012).  It was our first trip home since we had moved to Texas, and we were kinda up in the air about where to stay.  I had started researching rental houses since, well. there are six of us!  A long time “friend” suggested, no, demanded that we stay with them.  Background – her husband is my husbands long-time BFF, and I thought that she and I were pretty tight as well.  They came to the hospital as soon as we lost Colin (with their 6 week old newborn who had just been released from the NICU), set up camp, and took care of us.  These are solid, good people.  To give some history, and my new found clarity, however, I finally realized that our friendship had always been pretty damn one-sided.  My family lived about 35 minutes from hers, but to her, it was a world away.  Needless to say, when it came time to meet up for dinner or drinks, it was always me making the trek.  It was really never a big deal to me, but hindsight is 20/20.  It became clear a couple of years ago that I was just a sounding board for her to bitch about her other friends.  I was never good enough to be asked to go to any of those friend dinners or get togethers, and it was a very rare occurrence that she made time for she and I to do that.  I didn’t see it for years, but it was definitely there.  I’ve always been a very empathetic person (which is certainly not a quality that I value in myself most of the time – I truly wish I were capable of compartmentalizing and putting things away).  This is apparently a quality about me that makes her absolutely seethe.  I recognized this and tried my best to listen and not try to fix things.  I actually found myself sneaking around trying to help her.  When she was in a particularly rough spot, I invited her to dinner at one of our favorite, not very cheap, steak houses.  Because of the situation she was dealing with (financial issues), I knew she would never accept.  Therefore, I asked my husband to drive 40 minutes to buy a gift card (which he did, because he is freakin’ awesome), and leave it with the hostess.  I lied to my friend and said I had a gift card to burn and I wanted to do it with her.  I never do shit like for credit, and I feel kinda skeevy even writing about it.  I definitely don’t keep score.  The only reason that it’s out there is because I know that she would have been pissed, not grateful, for the gesture.  That’s the kind of person she is.  It just took me a decade or so to finally realize it.

Soooooo, this leads us to our trip home last year.  As I mentioned, she did not suggest, she demanded that we stay with them the entire 2 weeks we were home.  My son Riley’s (and Colin’s) birthday happened to fall during that time, so she also demanded that we hold his birthday party at their home.  They are Riley’s Godparents, so after a lot of  “I will be fucking pissed if you don’t agree”, I agreed!  We were looking forward to our visit, and I was so ready for the giant boulder of stress to fall off of my shoulders.  Mind you, at this time, my best freakin’ friend in the world had just died while I was holding her hand, just a mere 5-6 weeks before.  We also were traveling home with the knowledge that Brian’s dad had decided to forego any further chemo and radiation, and this was probably the last time that we, as a family, would see him.  Do I need to even mention that I was a bundle of fucking nerves?  To normal ass people, I say not!  However, to the high and elite, apparently it wasn’t so obvious.

ARRIVIAL IN INDY, 2012:  we rolled into Indy about the crack of 3:00am.  We had dropped my mom off at her sister’s house (thank God for that – at least she escaped from Crazy Town).  We promptly got the kiddos settled and went straight to sleep.  In a very hospitable fashion, my friend had moved one of her girls (they have 2 girls and a boy, who is our God Son), and had set up her bedroom with a giant air mattress, and it already had 2 twin beds.  She insisted that Brian and I stay in her guest room/office.  My friend had a bundle of stress in her life as well, at the time, which I was extremely aware of and sensitive to.  She was starting a brand new job that week, and a new nanny was starting that morning.  I woke to realize that my youngest (my sweet little shit storm) had woken up her siblings and stumbled downstairs before we woke up.  I immediately apologized to both my friend as well as the new nanny and said that Brian and I would sleep in the same room as the kiddos from that point on so it wouldn’t happen again.  My friend wouldn’t hear of it and said she’d be pissed if we did.  Their room was set away from our room, so I really couldn’t hear them at all.  I was super cognizant of where my kids were and what they were doing at all times.  I never, ever wanted to take advantage of the nanny – I wouldn’t even shower if no other adults were in the house because I didn’t want her to think I expected her to care for my kids.  Needless to say, my kiddos snuck by me a few mornings, and I apologized all over myself for it.  Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.  It really was a no-win, terribly uncomfortable situation for me right off the bat.  My hubby was working during the weekday in a local office, and my mom wasn’t there.  Needless to say, I was pretty stinky that week 😉  My Riley’s birthday party was going to be the following Saturday, so I was in full preparation mode.  My plan was pretty simple, for me that is.  If you know me, I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to plan birthday parties (and other parties), and I’ve been known to get a little out of hand 😉  However, I knew that my resources were limited as I was away from home, and I planned accordingly.  Riley wanted a Star Wars party.  I googled and Pinterested the crap out of Star Wars parties, and thought I came up with a pretty good, doable plan.  We would have Jedi Training, with Brian as the Jedi Master, and his BFF as Darth Vader.  I bought a bunch of brown flannel, cut rectangles of fabric, holes for their heads, rope for their waists, and voila, we had Jedi training robes!  Easiest damn birthday favors I have ever made!  I also had a plan to make homemade light sabers out of pool noodles and duct tape.  Once again, super easy (after I found enough pool noodles in Indiana in August, that is!  Had to remind myself that we weren’t in Houston, where they are always in plentiful supply!).  My friend insisted on procuring a cake (which I had already done, but obliged anyway).  The cake was made by a friend’s mom who was just trying to start a cake business, so I was more than happy to give her some business!  I paid as much for that cake as I did for my daughter’s gorgeous triple layer princess birthday cake (which weirdly enough resembled my wedding cake – yes, I’m a freak!) in Houston.  Needless to say, I was pretty unimpressed with the Darth Vader cake that I could have made myself.  However, I never let on, and graciously thanked her for the procurement (because, did I mention, I paid for it).  I’m sorry very sorry for the rotten, ungrateful bitch rant that I am on.  You’ll understand in a minute.

So, not sure if I already mentioned, but from the first full day we had as guests in their home, the tension was as thick as pea soup.  In my stupid puppy dog way, I did anything and everything I could think of to help her out.  One that that sticks in my mind is that her sweet boy (3 at the time), threw his beloved Buzz Lightyear across their brand new $70,000 kitchen floor.  Knowing her, I thought it was creating a giant bug up her ass, so I tried to get rid of it for her.  I went out and bought some microfiber clothes to get it up, and she took that as “You are fucking embarrassed to let people see my house this way”.  Holy fuck Batman!  Yes, she did fall from the damn crazy tree!  And from there, any time that I picked up after my kids, tried to keep things organized, etc., I was YELLED at to sit the fuck down.  Seriously?  What, I wonder, would have happened if I had not picked up after my kids and tried to keep the household chaos to a minimum?  Again, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

I. Was. Not. Having. Fun.  As a matter of fact, my stinkin’ stress had become visceral at this point – I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t relax and enjoy my visit at all.  I was looking so forward to staying with and had even envisioned having lots of girl time on the back patio as our kids play.  NEVER.  EVER.  HAPPENED.  Well, the kids all had a BLAST together, which was the only silver lining.  She, on the other hand, would never join me for a drink, a walk, or anything for that matter.  Always too busy picking up after my damn kids, I guess.  So, we are on birthday party eve.  My mom (who was staying with my aunt), and I had already brain stormed and come up with everything we needed to do for the party.  We intentionally had it during an “off” time so we wouldn’t inconvenience my friend with a big meal mess, etc.  Mom and I had both been combing the city for the last remaining pool noodles, and had success!  On birthday party eve, my friend (who is insanely OCD, I need to add), asked (in her lovely, judgmental way) if there was any way I could gather “all of that shit floating around in your head and actually put it down on paper”.  I had had enough of her nasty, negative bitchiness by then (6 days in), but instead of throat-punching her, I politely declined and told her we had it under control.  She stomped away.  Needless to say, but the next morning, I made any excuse I could to get the fuck away from her.  I went to Joann’s to get some more fabric for the robes (just needed to make Daddy’s), and I found a liquidation sale!  Hot damn – that was all the therapy I needed!  My mom and hubby both knew why I was gone and how very much I needed to stay gone. They actually told me not to come back to the house for 4 hours, which is exactly what I did.  10 minutes after I returned,  friends and family arrived, and I could finally breathe for the first time since we had arrived.  That night was my only night to see my girls, so I was pretty damn excited!  I invited my friend to come along.  Strangely, she would never give me a straight answer and avoided me like the plague.  In my defense, her husband didn’t even realize what she was doing, and when I finally got ready to leave to meet my friends out for dinner (after making them wait for 2 hours), he told me to wait because his nowhere to be found wife would be back and would go with me.  Not.  She would never tell me “no”, “no thank you”, or even “fuck no” to my face – she just played stupid games.  I was 39 freakin’ years old at the time – way past any of the high school games that I avoided even back then.

I finally met my very sweet (ok, they can be bitches too, but they are MY bitches, and that makes all the difference in the world!) friends out for dinner, and they finally told me the truth about my friend.  I was seriously dumbfounded when they told me (2 of them were at the party earlier with their kiddos) that my friend told them that she “didn’t want to fucking go”.  So why couldn’t she tell me?  Did it even occur to her that she was insulting them right to their faces?  They also  filled me in on the fact that they’ve pretty much always thought that she was a “Heather” bitch (80’s movie reference), and that they only kept it to themselves for my benefit – because she was my friend and they respected me.  At that moment, I realized how freakin’ right they were.  She would never lower herself to go out with my friends and slum with my crowd, and it always went right over my head that I was never good enough to  hang out with her friends.  I felt pretty stupid.  I also felt pretty empowered at that point that I would never, ever let her walk all over me again.  I had an awesome dinner with my friends (albiet a much shorter one because of my misplaced loyalty).  When I returned to their house that night, my hubby and his BFF were playing XBox and dancing like fools – I love that about them – they can be totally silly and real with one another.  That’s pretty damn rare these days.  So, while I was laughing and cheering them on, my friend invited me to join her on the back porch for some wine.  Really?!?!?!?!  At this point, I politely declined because I was either going to backslap the bitch and/or lay it all out.  So, I chose to go to bed.  Apparently, that didn’t sit well with crazy.  I then set out to make sure that the kids and I were out of that damn house as much as freakin’ possible the rest of our stay.  She then started to go overboard on telling me I could leave them while I ran errands, etc.  No. Fucking. Way.  I politely declined.

I made dinner arrangements with some close high school friends.  I went out of my way (45 minutes, to be exact), to take the kids to a family members house, while I went to dinner.  The kids had a blast, and our family members truly enjoyed them.  That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?  Well, maybe just in my world of rainbows and unicorns, but I’ll stay here, thank you very much.  I had a fabulous time with my friends and was floating on Cloud 9 when I walked back in that night.  Of course, that would be the night the viper, oops, I mean my friend, decided we should talk.  I grabbed a bottle of wine (and apparently should have grabbed a funnel to go along with it), and we headed out back.  This was the second Tuesday of our stay, and we were counting the days til departure.  So, I let her go first, and the first words out of her mouth were, “You’re fucking ADD drives me fucking crazy!  I can’t even stand to be around you!  There’s medicine for that, you know!”  I was absolutely stunned with the venom and hatred she pushed that out with.  One glass down, and I filled my glass to the brim.  Not that the opening statement wasn’t bad enough, but she had to repeat it at least 17 times (yes, I counted – just stopped when I was blotto).  She proceeded to tell me that I run my life and family in utter chaos, and there “was not enough Lexapro in the world to make” her share a roof with me ever again.  Downed that glass, poured another.  She went on and on for at least an hour about how fucked up and disorganized I am, and that she JUST CAN’T FUCKING TAKE IT!.  Those of you who are perfect, just like my friend, can certainly empathize with her, I’m sure.  I am a hot mess.  I am flaky and disorganized.  I was all that and a bag of steroids then, as I was still reeling from the loss of my BEST FRIEND, and knowing that I had hugged my father in law goodbye for the last time.  Still, I could not bring myself to say all of the things I should have said.  It would have knocked her down a few notches and made me feel better (no, probably not – because I don’t like to make people feel shitty and worthless).  The little bird on my shoulder kept reminding me that once you say those things, you can’t take them back, and despite the fact that she had beaten the shit out of me, I still did not want to intentionally make her feel bad.  I don’t even remember wrapping up that conversation/brutal fucking beating.  I had drained that wine bottle completely, and headed up to bed.  Needless to say, shotgunning a bottle of red in an hour or so is not advisable under pleasant circumstances.  Yes, I ended up giving it all back.  She even came in and held my hair and gave me a wet washcloth, like a good friend would do.  Wait for it . . . . . .

I certainly shared the experience I had with both my mom and hubby the next day, and they both agreed that we needed to get the hell outta there STAT!  I don’t remember why now, but we had to stick around til Friday (family plans, I believe).  I avoided that bitch like the plague, all the while she was strutting around with a smug, immensely relieved look on her face.  Glad she felt better!

Friday night, my mom came to help me pack up – we did it in record fucking time!  My friend offered to help – we politely declined.  We left a good 36 hours earlier than we had planned.  As we were leaving, my friend gave me a big squeeze with a “Oh, I wish I could just box you up and keep you here!”  It took everything in my power to not respond with, “Why?  So you can squash me like a cockroach?!”

There is so, so, so much more that compounded my stress, thanks to her, that week, but I think you get the picture!  Oh!  There is one thing I have to mention.  So, like I said, they were with us after we lost Colin.  They have been family to us for years (when it was convenient for them, in retrospect).  On the morning of August 9th (the anniversary of Colin’s death), I was sitting in the kitchen talking with my kiddos about their brother.  We were all sad and talking about our feelings.  Let me say that a week prior to that, my friend said how glad she was that we were with them during this time (the boys’ birthday, and the 9th are understandably extremely difficult days for me).  That morning, she was already gone for work, and her kids were at school.  Therefore, I felt like I could breathe a little and hang with my kids without feeling like we were constantly fucking something up.  Well, my friend apparently had to come back home for something, and greeted me with “what’s wrong with you?” in her very opposite of sweetest, caring, empathetic tone.  She knew damn well what the day was.  And this is why I love my sweet, spunky monkey Olivia so.  She stood up, stared my friend down, and in her biggest 4 year old voice said, “Today is the day my mommy lost her Colin!  You better be nice to her!”.  And in her most condescending, bitch-nasty voice, my friend retorted with, “I know exactly what today is Olivia!”, spun around and left without another word.  I pretty much made up my mind then and there that I was done with her.  Just imagine all of that love getting piled on every day for 2 weeks.  Yep, it was more fun that I could handle.

When we got home, I didn’t return her calls or texts.  I just couldn’t.  We had been playing Words with Friends for a year at that point – I deleted the game from my phone.  I unfriended her – the first and only time I have ever done that.  But she hurt me so deeply, I couldn’t even fathom talking to her again.  She kept emailing, calling and texting to find out if we were “OK”.  So finally, about a month after we left, I built up the courage and tried to get myself in the calmest place that I could (which has been nearly impossible for me to do for years).  It was September 25th.  I know this day, because it was 3 months to the day that my BEST FRIEND had died, and I was driving over to Austin to hang with her hubby and friends.  In retrospect, probably not the best time to try and be calm, as I was hyperventilating just thinking about it.  Oh well.  So, I had returned a text to my friend earlier in the day and said that I would be in the car that afternoon for 3 hours by myself and could talk then if she still wanted to talk.  Well, I apparently got off to a shitty start because I called her 28 minutes after I said I would.  Mind you, she was also in the car for several hours. so who freakin’ cares?!  It took all I had just to get my shit packed and my ass in the car to go to Austin – if it’s not clear, I think I tend to avoid uncomfortable situations 😉  This was my first trip since we had buried her. and I knew that from past experience (I’ve had enough to know), that as soon as I started to see familiar places, I would start to shake, sweat and want to curl up in a ball.  I miss my friend terribly, and was not quite ready to visit her grave and admit that she was really gone.  **I didn’t go to the burial 3 months prior because I just couldn’t do it.  Nevertheless, I brought along my big girl panties, pulled them up to my knees, and called my friend.  I was finally ready to have an adult conversation and hoped that we could work it out.  Holy fuck was I ever by a whole bunch of crazy!  I called, she said I was late.  I then heard voices, and she said she was in the car with the whole family heading to a long weekend vacation spot.  I apologized because I didn’t realize she would have an audience, and suggested we do this next week.  In her iciest voice, I got, “Oh no you don’t!  I cant fucking wait to hear what you have to say!”.  At that point, any hopes that she was just stressed before (and not a complete bitch asshole) completely evaporated.  I did my best to keep calm, and told her that, hey, no doubt I have ADD, but they way she screamed it in my face was not only unhelpful, it was hurtful.  No apologies.  Even better, she pointed out that I am clearly an alcoholic because I guzzled an entire bottle of wine and then threw up when she was handing my ass to me.  Better yet, she told me, no screamed at me, that I was a big fucking hot mess, and that we would never do a family vacation again (yes, she actually repeated the “not enough Lexapro in this world” statement), and that if we did a couples trip again, we’d have to have separate rooms.  Um, yep, I’m a fucking adult – I don’t need to share my room with your broke ass – we just did it to help you out.  Oh yeah – WHY IN THE HELL WOULD I EVER CONSIDER GOING TO A MOVIE, LET ALONE A COUPLES TRIP, WITH SOMEONE WHO IS TALKING TO ME THIS WAY?!?!?!?!  Once again, my fucking birdie reminded me that once the cat leaves the bag, it will never go back in.  So, I kept it in as long as I could.  I politely said that I didn’t think that would ever be a problem (worrying about a couple’s trip).  She continued to scream at me (in front of her hubby and kids), tell me what  a fuck up I am, and oh yeah, how dare I sleep the day away and make her take care of my fucking kids when she has a job!  That was it.  White gloves came off, but my mean bitch still stayed inside.  I told her that I did everything I could to pick up after my kids – it was my damn job while I was there.  And that anything I tried to do to help her was thrown back in my face.  I apologized that our room (her office) was a hot mess, but it was only because I just kept throwing things in there to get them out of everyone else’s way.  After more screaming and letting me know how worthless and fucked up I am, I reminded her, FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE IT HAD HAPPENED, that my BEST FRIEND had passed away while holding my hand not 6 weeks before my visit, and that Brian’s dad was currently (at the time of the phone call) in the last stages of kidney cancer.  I apologized for the 100th time, but said she could cut me a little slack . . . The GIANT HOE BAG BITCH actually interrupted my sentence (like she had been waiting for it like a predatory animal), with a, “Stop making excuses – everyone has someone who dies!”.  That is a very accurate statement.  We do all lose someone or several people in our lives that hold an enormous part of our heart.  But that was the coldest, meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.  I kept my cool, told her that I was done, and hung up.  Needless to say, I got piss ass drunk when I got to Austin that night.

My friend has reached out to me, in her narcissistic way, several times over the past year.  Some of the highlights include that she doesn’t want the loss of her friendship to “cause me angst” like so many others have.   WTF?!?!?!?  And that she refused to let her stubbornness put a wedge in our friendship.   I actually laughed out loud at a few of those emails.  IT SHOCKS ME TO NO END THAT THERE ARE PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD WHO CAN BE SELFISH, RUDE AND FLAT OUT MEAN TO PEOPLE AND THINK THAT IT MUST JUST BE “EVERYONE ELSE”.  Unfortunately, I seem to attract them like flies to shit.

Coming around to the recent past, I was finally able to start my ADD meds in May.  Like I said, it was truly eye-opening.  Walking through life wearing fucked up, scattered, disorganized, rose-colored glasses can definitely have it’s perks!  It certainly made me see the best in people.  I loved my doc when he told me that people like me are empathetic to a fault, but is a a really endearing quality.  I’ve never considered my self empathetic, but I have always cared about other people’s happiness, comfort, etc.  I’ve always done whatever I can to try to help out.  Please note that I am not tooting my own horn.  I realize now that it’s a quality that irritates the fuck out of some people, and I’ve since tried to dial it way down.  But shit!  I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s way better to feel good about myself and reach out and try to help people than not give a rat’s ass about anyone.  So, if I try to help you out and it pisses you off, WELL, WHY DON’T YOU PISS OFF!!!  Back to reality, in the absence of my rose-colored glasses, everything and everyone around me (as well as their agendas), became instantly crystal clear.  Unfortunately, my “there is good in everyone” well has run frustratingly dry.  I get people a lot better now.  I listen a lot closer to how shitty and mean people can really  be, for no damn reason.   I could just blow it off and ignore it, or possibly even not pay attention to it before, but now, I’m not so lucky.  I MISS MY FRIENDS BACK HOME SO MUCH IT HURTS!  I miss being with people who get me, know me, and love me despite of it all.  I’ve had tiny little glimmers here, just to have them say, “JUST KIDDING, LOSER!”  Unfortunately, I’ve come to the conclusion that a lot of people, for the most part, in this little bubble of Houston we have moved to ARE FUCKING MEAN.  I have no tolerance for it anymore.  I would rather put on my jammies and watch fucking Walton’s reruns every night then try to pretend I am someone that I WILL NEVER BE in order to fit in here.  Sadly, that realization has made me feel pretty lonely, but also proud.  A lot of people around here are extremely shallow,  petty and vindictive.  I’m over it.  I deserve better than that, and I’m done putting up with a whole lotta bullshit!

Sorry about that!  Necessary rant.  Soooo, this leads me to the last week of July, 2013.  My friend back home started texting and email me to see if I could make time to talk.  Really?!?!?!?  Do mean people have freakin’ brain damage?  Could there actually be a medical reason for asshole behavior?  I politely texted back that I had a full schedule, and wasn’t sure what it would accomplish anyway.  Then an email.  So, at this point, I decided I was NOT GOING TO LET THIS DAMN BULLY ruin my trip back home, because she sure did a doozy the year before.  I stayed up all night writing her an email explaining exactly why we wouldn’t talk again.  I even proofread it and removed the name-calling (that just helped me feel better at the time).  I let my husband, mom and good friend read it, and they all agreed that it was 100% truthful, although there would be fallout.  I did finish the letter advising that I have an enormous amount of respect for our husbands’ friendship, and would NEVER do anything to get in the way of it, and that I hope she agreed.  Apparently, she didn’t.  That really, really sucks.  The guys’ friendship will never be the same, and it’s not by my doing, or I guess it is.  I will always carry around a tremendous amount of guilt and sadness because of it.   It makes me very sad for my husband, but he agreed that she had no right to treat me that way, and she did it for a long time.  But you know what?  For the first time in my life, I truly stood up for myself, and it felt pretty damn good.  I certainly have regrets.  My kids miss their kids (and so do we!).  But, what am I teaching my kids if I allow someone to keep kicking the crap out of me?  I certainly wouldn’t let them put up with it.  LIFE IS TOO SHORT, AND THERE ARE AN OVERABUNDANCE OF INHERENTLY GOOD PEOPLE OUT THERE!  Unfortunately, the assholes have chased them all underground, so you have to do a lot of digging to find them.

I don’t consider myself a popular person or really even care.  I know a lot of people, and I am friendly, but I keep things pretty close to the vest.  I don’t let many people in, and when they disappoint me, they normally don’t get a chance to do it again.  I like people in general – I just don’t like the mean, petty, competitive bullshit that seems to simmer just under the surface of most of them.  Sure, we can all be that way, but I just don’t get what people get out of making people feel bad.  If I do or say something that I think perhaps could possibly have been taken out of context, it stews inside of me for days/weeks/years, until I can resolve it.  Otherwise, it’s in there, swimming in my belly with the rest of my demons.  So for people to be just downright rude, mean and awful . . . I just don’t get it.  Unfortunately, my loss of rose-colored glasses has made me see that there is an overabundance of that crap swirling around right in front of me.  I. AM. OVER. IT.  It makes me incredibly sad that some people aren’t at all what I thought they were.  I’ve invested a lot of myself in some of them, only to be shit on, talked about and stabbed in the back.

Since just before school started (I am coaching my daughter’s cheer squad, and I love, love, love the girls), I have taken on a lot of extra stuff I wouldn’t have been even remotely been able to do last year.  I have been really proud of myself.  I have been organized and focused and pretty put together (for me, that is).  However, since it began, I am feeling less and less of the therapeutic effect of my meds because my stupid stress and anxiety have peaked.  Sure, there are lots of things going on that cause stress.  However, I can pinpoint what causes most of it, and I’m done with it.  I’m done trying to please everyone; I’m done trying to help; I’m pretty much just done period with some people in general.  I have done everything I can think of to make things good with some people, and I’m done trying.   It’s absolutely emotionally and physically exhausting to keep up the facade and play the freakin’ games that a lot of people play here.  I. Am. Done.  It’s not healthy for me, and it’s not beneficial for my family for me to be so stressed and anxious all of the time.  So, guess it’s time to start living life on my terms instead of trying to please a bunch of people who don’t give a shit about me.  Why do I do this to myself?  Well, I’m vowing not to anymore.  I graduated from high school in 1991, and I don’t need or want to go back.  It’s a damn shame that those who do can find so much company.  People who know me, really know me, know that I am fiercely loyal, to a fault.  But screw me once, shame one you!  Guess I’ve given some a few extra chances . . . time to stop being such a damn pushover!  I’m going to have to work very hard to not let myself get walked on anymore.  I’m tired of having my heart broken again and again.  I am so grateful for the good, positive people I have in my life!  There aren’t many of them, but they certainly outshine the masses!  So, I guess the upside to “seeing clearly” is being able to appreciate those shining stars in my life, who really deserve it, just a little bit more!