Archive for the ‘survival’ Category

I feel like I lost one of my own tonight. One of my tribe laid down his arms and said “Enough.”

Enough of the hiding. Hiding your pain. Hiding your face. Hiding your scars and your wounds. Hiding from the beasts and demons you carry with you. Hiding from reality and hiding from fantasy.

Enough.

Enough of the lying. Lying to them, to you, to us, to all. Lying in wait for the next wave to come.

Enough.

It’s such a simple word, it’s easily understood with nothing more than a simple gesture.

But, it’s impact is great.

Some say “Enough” and stand up. Some say “Enough” and lie down.

Either way, nothing is ever the same.

 

The National Suicide Prevention Hotline is: 800-273-8255

For phone-phobics

bandbacktogether.com/resources

 

 

 

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Fear is a gust of wind the rattles my bones. Fear is a gray cloud that stops the quickens my heart. Fear is a click, creak and groan of a settling house. It’s an unexpected flash of light. Fear is a ghost that haunts me day and night. I am forever at the ready for the fear to be realized.

During the day I watch the sky and judge the wind. I check weather.com like it’s the next Twitter.  I look for reasons to leave the house. I don’t want to be here. Something bad might happen. Something I can’t protect my family against.

At night I stay up late, whether I am tired or not. I’m on the computer with The Weather Channel map open at all times. I peek out windows and check and recheck the locks. I make sure my keys and sneakers are readily available. I check for the dial tone. I go over in head how to load and hold the shotgun. Then I remember that if I ever had to shoot it, My kids would probably be in the line of fire. So I keep the phone in my pocket and wish I had a baseball bat.

When I finally go to bed, I lie there and think. In between lock and weather check, that is. I wonder, is tonight the night we get another tornado? Is this the night some one is going to break in?  Or is this place just going to go up in flames. If so, we’re all screwed.

We’re so far from help, calling wouldn’t matter. It would be over before they got halfway here. So I am always waiting to be called into action. I fear that moment when I have to stop being mom and  be the hero.

And I want it to stop.

I can’t live this way. My family shouldn’t have to put up with Edgy Mommy. Or Exhausted Mommy. It’s not fair to any of us.

So I’ve been looking for a new place to live. Tom has a new, better paying job so we can afford more. But it still is not enough. Rent prices have skyrocketed since the high volume gas well fracking has moved into the area. And once again, we are priced out of the market. The safe ones anyway.

That hasn’t stopped me. Everyday, several times a day, I have been scouring Craigslist and the local newspapers online for something that will work. I’ve even had Tom applying for mortgages while I talk to real estate agents. And for the past 3 months nothing has panned out. We are wither too late, they won’t take the cat ( that Tom won’t part with) or they want 1st, last and 2 months security. That can total over 4 grand.

Until today.

Today I found a 3 bedroom duplex in a nice area that is going to be available in September.  It’s in a great school district and they accept cats. It’s a situation that would alleviate my fears to some degree. It’s in a more populated area, mere minutes from the state troopers and a fire department. The neighborhood (all owned by the same company) look well maintained. And it has a BASEMENT. It’s like Manna  from Heaven. Just one, not so small catch. The rent is more than half of Tom’s paycheck and it would take more than $2k to move in.

If we paid nothing but food gas and insurance, we could get it done in about a month. Maybe a month and a half.

But to what end.

Sure, it has just about everything we want. It’s safe (looking), clean, cared for and convenient. I wouldn’t burst into tears and speed my kids up to my moms at the first clap of thunder and wind gust of 10 MPH.  I wouldn’t spend the night wondering if I should sleep in the hall outside my kids door, just in case.

I would, however, spend my night wondering how we were going to pay the heat, electric, insurance and food bills. And what about when the kids out grow the clothes and shoes they have. I can’t even fathom Christmas and Birthdays.

Oh, wait. I can.

I just stopped doing that shit a couple months ago. I don’t want to go back.

We can afford to pay our bills and live just a little now. It hurts my heart to think of going back to barely scraping by and counting pennies. Going nowhere and not buying things we need just so we can have a roof over our heads and all the very basics that go with it.

But then again, it hurts my heart to be terrified of my home. It hurts even more when Kieran wants to get in the truck and leave at the first raindrop. It takes everything I have to soothe him and tell him it’s okay when in reality, I want to get in the truck too.

So I’m left with this question-

How much a month is my sense of security worth? How much is my kids sense of security worth?

I get inspired to write all the time. I write the most wonderful posts in my head while I’m driving*, cleaning up or changing a diaper. Some times their so funny I nearly piss my pants. Other times their eye watering, poignant. Either way each one is fan-friggen-tastic.

I can’t wait to get on the computer and pound one out**.  I’m practically salivating at the idea of expressing myself as some one other than Mom, Queen of Time Outs and Sippy Cups.

Then shit hits the fan. Literally in some cases.  One second I’m fantasizing about living up to my potential and then some and the next I’m chasing Kieran around with Perry under my arm, a diaper in my hand, the phone pinned between my shoulder and ear and Amanda chasing me, whining requesting yet another outfit change.

Brilliant thoughts? Vanished.

I’ve taken to writing an idea down when I get one. In fact I have a short list sitting on top of my computer right now.

I have no idea where I was heading with those strikes of lightning. They’ll stay right where they are until I get around to throwing them out. Who knows, maybe I’ll remember what I was thinking some time between now and then. 6 months from now if I’m lucky.

PS- Thanks for the inspiration Amy. Your writer’s block was not for naught***.

PPS- While previewing this post. Flock, my browser crashed. Twice.

*When my truck isn’t being possessed by an evil demon that causes the fuel pump to go catatonic with fear.

**Yeah, that sounded dirty to me too.

***Say it with me now, ” Oooh, fancy word”.

I’ve been dealing with some internal crap lately.  Feeling like a permanent world class fuck-up, having nothing left of me, sundowning at 10am, feeling weighed down emotionally and physically.  I haven’t been able to do much. Just the basics like feeding my kids.

I haven’t even felt like writing. My Father’s day post was written weeks in advance when I was in a better frame of mind. If I had written that post on Sunday, it would have read very differently.

How?

First of all I wasn’t home to write it. I gave Tom what I would have like to have as a gift. A day to himself. I took the kids swimming with my mom and left Tom to do as he pleases. He could putter with his gun, watch hunting shows and nap endlessly.

He did all that except nap. A funny thing happens when the kids and I are out and Tom is left to his own devices. He suddenly has no urge to nap.

I’m not talking about resting for 20 minutes to recharge the batteries. I’m mean must sleep for 2-3 Hours. NOW.

I understand that he works a physically demanding job in 120 degree* heat . That would wear anyone out. But for some odd reason, it’s not nearly tiring when the kids and I aren’t there when he gets home. Hence no nap.

WTF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That just screams ” I don’t want to deal with you” to me.

That really doesn’t help my feeling like I’ve made every wrong decision possible. Choices that affect my kids. Like committing myself for life to the wrong person. The person that helped me create those kids.

I with the kids solo for at least 11 hours a day. That’s not including the time he is present but can’t be bothered. At the end of the day I have nothing left. Not even for myself.

I can’t even muster up the drive to take care of myself.

I’ve been wanting to start working out. I’ve told Tom that I need an hour to myself when he gets home. His answer was that he didn’t get time to himself. Um…… yeah you do. You use it to sleep.  His response was no less frustrating than the actual naps.

” So, if I don’t take a nap when I get home, we’ll be even”.

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We’ve had conversations about how I need to take better care of myself and exercise. Tom even said that I wouldn’t be around to take care of anyone if I didn’t change my lifestyle. He’s right but he’s unwilling to sacrifice an hour a day for me.

A freaking HOUR!

This near-uselessness pops up anytime I need to leave him in-charge of the kids. He always asks if I can do whatever after the kids go to bed or if my mom can watch them.

At this point my mom** spends more time helping me that Tom does.

I can’t keep this up. I’m  not going to keep this up. Today, after Tom gets home and has some lunch, I am taking my hour. Regardless of what he says.

Like my mom’s very wise friend, Kelly C. told me ” You teach people how to treat you”.

School is in session.

*no, I’m not exaggerating. I’m pretty sure it violates workers rights too.

** I love my mom. She’s AWESOME!

UPDATE-  I got my walk. Without an argument. Shocker! I only took a half an hour because I’m REALLY out of shape and didn’t want to kill my self or my drive to get in shape. My current goal is to start couch25k in October.

breakfast

Posted: Tuesday, March 23, 2010 in divide and conquer, food, guilt, hyenas, kitchen, Nom, survival

I must look like somekind of crackhead shoplifter. I’m sitting hunched over the computer praying to not get busted. I’m trying to eat breakfast. In peace. With out sharing. No small task in a house with three little vulchers who refuse to eat anything place in front of them. Put something in my hands, for my consumption and we have a whining, you never feed me, reaching and snatching, eye daggers from all angles free for all.

You will give me your noms and be grateful

It’s not just me. They do it to Tom too. We wait until they go to bed to eat the good stuff. I walk around the house “looking” out the windows with a piece of leftover toast in my hand. Tom eats while they’re entranced by the tv or eats on the couch while they’re eating in the kitchen. I try to feed everyone the same thing at the same time but it doesn’t always work out that way. It is also no guarantee that what you have will not be coveted.
So this morning I had to sneak through our very open plan living/dining/family/play/kitchen with a pancake wrapped sausage on a stick wrapped int a paper towel stuffed in my pocket. The Triple Threat love those things. It’s so much fun to pull off the pancake and pick apart the sausage and chew the bonus inside (aka- the stick). I know that if I’m busted, they descend upon me like a pack of harpies. They’ll follow me, scale whatever furniture necessary, tell me their hungry in various launguages. They inflict guilt like only a child can.

So, in the name of survival, I snarf my food as fast as I can and make it through another meal. Yay! for not passing out from low blood sugar today.