I'm not crazy, I swear I'm not...

So okay, normally I don't blog in the mornings because, well, honestly you don't want to know the stuff that comes off my brain in the morning hours.  It's rarely nice and even less rarely coherent. BUt today the stars have collided to make me feel as crazy as a compass in a room full of magnets.  Shus, I told you the brain doesn't really work well in the morning.

Yesterday, I was standing at my moms house and I get a call from a 343 prefix which generally means a call from the school but it wasn't 343-5000 which IS the school.  I missed the call and called them back.  I jumped into a recording that said there would be a two hour delay today.  I heard it as did my mom and we both wondered if the snow wasn't supposed to hit until tonight, meaning Wednesday night, why were they issuing a 2 hour delay for Wednesday morning??  

But whatever, I have fought CMS and they have won before so I said fine and continued with my day.  I went and got shelves and made dinner and went to the movies with a friend it was all good.  I even let the girls sleep in this morning because of the supposed 2 hour delay that I still didn't understand but had ceased trying to.

NEvertheless, my eye popped open at seven thirty (Which again today had no arm pain so I was able to sleep that long yay!) and I thought let me see if there's any new snow.

NOpe.  Same half an inch that was there yesterday morning when school opened on time.  Something in my mind said, "You might want to check the Facebook page." And Lo and behold (I don't get that phrase) THEY WERE OPERATING ON A REGULAR SCHEDULE.

So I commented: 

I seem to be the only one in this gargantuan city that got a call saying that there was a 2 hour delay.  The ONLY PERSON.  Out of probably a million phone numbers that they dial, I'm the ONLY one that got a random call talking about a two hour delay.

This ferschnickity school district has me walking around my house mumbling to myself, like a crazy person, saying that I'm not crazy, but feeling like I am.  I DID NOT hear the recording wrong.  I just didn't  I couldn't have.  

I'm not crazy.  I swear I'm not.  

But don't they say that crazy people are always denying that they are crazy?

Oh God what if I'm crazy???

Right now I need Kamri.  When you say you're not crazy at work, she launches into this thing where she says, "Crazy? I was crazy once.  They locked me in a  padded room.  I liked it there.  I died there.  They put three flowers on my grave.  Two went up, one went down.  It tickled me.  I drove me crazy.  Crazy?  I was crazy once..." And it keeps going FOREVER  But oddly I on'y feel better about what was making me crazy in the first place when she does it.  When I do it do myself I just feel crazier.  More crazy?  This is how messed up I am right now, I don't even know my proper grammar.

I think I need more coffee...

Stay frosty Bloggers.  We're supposed to get between 4-6 inches tonight so I'm pretty sure I'll be frosty over here.  I'm also pretty sure Mother nature just blew my kid's spring break away as well...

I'm going to get more coffee...

I honestly think I'm about to have one of those breaks that causes severe turmoil.

I usually can see them coming and usually something happens between them arriving and me seeing them that helps me derail them but I don't see any side roads that a possible help venue might interceede.  All I see is straight road and my nervous breakdown coming full speed.

So for a week now, I have been texting and calling my ex to find out when he's going to bring the kids back.  I get sent to voicemail and my texts and voicemails are going unanswered.  LIke he is full on ignoring me at the moment.

On top of that, my mom has been asking me for two weeks when the kids are coming home and Sunday when she asked I was in a rush, I was running late to work, and I was tired so what came out of my mouth was probably something that should have stayed in my head. "I don't know, mom, that's a question you should be asking Randy, not me."  Then she made a comment about school supplies and again, something that was much safer wandering around in my head found the mouth door and I said "I'm not a total disgrace of a mom, I got school supplies."  As if that shit cake doesn't have enough layers then she laid in about the uniforms again.  For the five hundred and ninety seventh time I told her, Olivia will wear the green shirts that Kayla wore two years ago and that Jovaughn wore two years before that.  What iI got again was, "Olivia is not going to want to wear that." and "She always gets hand me downs."

First of all, I may sound like a horrible parent here but I don't honestly give a good goddamn what Olivia wants to wear.  It's a school uniform for Chrissake. Yes, I know they will be big on her but right now she will either wear them or wear them.  These are her only two options until I can get to a store to buy her more.  As for her always getting hand me downs.  She's the last child in a set of three.  This is her lot in life as it is for all youngest children.  At some point in their lives more than half of their clothing was worn by someone else. and considering I have to buy a new fucking color every school year because Ranson Middle would rather color code their students than learn them damn names I don't see why I should break my already cracked and leaking bank on brand new shirts that will have nobody to wear them after this school year is over.  So forgive me if I don't give a crap what she wants to wear.

So last night, I came home and for the second day in a row my house smelled like someone took a massive shit and didn't flush and I was determined to find the smell this time.  My nose led me to the garage where I discovered that when I went in the chest freezer on the 11th to give my mom food because she had none, I didn't close the lid.  Yesterday was the 18th.  For a solid week now, the freezer has been open.  Over $100 in food has been molding and rotting for a week.  This was the smell.  So I closed the lid, taped the bitch shut and aired the garage.  Since it's a chest freezer that was third hand when I got it, and this was my fault and my fault only, I chalked it up to a simple careless mistake perpetrated by Dammit Dette and went to look up new chest freezers online.  I was totally not worried about it of the loss of food that had probably been frozen well past it's sell by date anyway.  Why cry over spilt milk, you know?

I still hadn't drained the bullshit tolerance pool when I talked to my mom again last night.  I probably should have.  It has gotten to where if I don't call her, she posts it on my facebook for EVERYONE to see usually in the form of "Where are you? Why haven't you called me?" Gee thanks for making everyone on Facebook think I never call my mom.  I speak to you once or twice A DAY forgive me if that once or twice wasn't on your time.  I have a job now I can't use my phone at work and I try not to use it driving and these days, I'm kinda doing one, either, or both at the same time.  When I get home I usually have enough thought in my head to lock the door and set the alarm before I pass out in my bed.

But I digress... Like I was saying, I didn't drain the bullshit tolerance pool before I called her last night and she informed me that she had called Randy and surprise surprise he picked up the phone for her.  And they had a very lengthy conversation.  He even told her that he was planning to bring the kids back on Saturday.  I work on Saturday from one to ten.  He either needs to be here before twelve or after ten.  But he doesn't call me and hasn't called me so he doesn't know this.  My mother then suggested in that "i know how to run your life better than you do because you're acting like a toddler" voice that maybe I should call him and let him know my hours.

Yeah cause calling and texting him has been working so well for me for the past week.

Again, I should have drained the bullshit tolerance pool because thing that should stay in my head began to come out of my mouth like telling her that she comes off as trying to run my life at times and that at times, she acts like I'm still a child.  This got me a lecture on being an adult.  Because I won't call Randy and volunteer my schedule. He purposefully sends me to voicemail because I "Cause drama and he ignores people who cause drama" (This is what he actually told my mother)  I called bull shit on that and the flag was thrown in my face.  Some more yelling was screamed and then she said "I'm not telling you that you are acting like a child but you are acting like an asshole.  Goodnight." and BOOM.  she hung up on me.  Whoever said that you can't tell when someone slams the phone down because all cordless phones have an END button was very very wrong.  I could feel her punch that end button like she was slapping me in the face, which she probably wanted to at that moment.

Am I wrong?  Why do I have to be the adult here?  And is it really being childish if I don't feel like calling him again to tell him that I won't be here Saturday when he hasn't even bothered to even send a text and tell me he's going to be here?  I mean for fucks sake he told my mom because his balls aren't big enough to call me.  Or text me.  Hell he could even email it to me.  But I'm not being adult?

Man fuck this.  I'm done.  Like I said, I don't see a detour between my oncoming nervous breakdown and now.  So those of you that know me in real life.  If you see my pulling away from you, this is your warning.  I can't handle anything more right now.  And I would rather no one else get hurt in the atomic blast that's about to make landfall.

I want a cigarette right now.  I kinda need one.  My e-cig isn't doing jack shit.

I have to go to work.  I have to pretend to be normal because I need my job.

Tonight is going to so hard I don't think I'm going to make it through it.  Stay tuned, bloggers.  This may actually be the night I get fired from my dream job.

Slow and steady

Everytime I come to the conclusion that I'm not as old as I think I am, my body laughs and says, "yeah you are. Let me show you." and something starts to hurt. This morning it was my back, legs, and generally everything below my neck.

I can't blame all that on being old though.  Last night I did an exercise in futility otherwise known as putting your all into mopping a kitchen floor the night before truck day. Only my Howie family will understand that.  On Wednesday night, there is no point to putting any elbow grease into mopping that floor.

Whatever, it's done and as it's already one thirty in the afternoon I am pretty sure that my hard work has already been proved for naught.  Popped a tram.  It's all good.

SO last night I stood outside with J and we talked for a bit after work.  He is a slow and steady kind of guy.  I have never been with a slow and steady kind of guy.  Ever.

This is going to be interesting.  That's about the only word I have for it.

I really should be cleaning up my house because it's been decided.  We are going to have what I think is a second date.  He's coming over to watch movies on Sunday.

The conundrum is where in my house this is going to happen.

The working DVD player is in my bedroom.  The Xbox that also plays DVD's is in the living room.  The couch in the living room is horrible.  It actually has wood boards under the cousins so that anyone over the age of ten can sit anywhere near comfortably on it.  The small couch has wobbly and falling off legs.  I can put the mattress that we keep down there on the floor to sit on but that kinda send the wrong message.

But saying the dvd player is in my bedroom sends and even worse message.  Do you see where I'm stuck here?  What in the sam hell do I do since there is no chance whatsoever of getting a decent couch between now and Sunday.

I also should go get the television that doesn't require a drumstick to turn it on from my moms house before Sunday.  So much to do on top of making my house look picture freaking donna reed perfect. Okay not Donna Reed but at least not Peg Bundy....

Freaking GAH!!! I want a cigarette already and it's only a quarter to two in the afternoon. (Don't listen to me, don't hand me one.  I don't need one...)  I need to change the atomizer on my e-sig and see if that will help with the getting nothing issue. I need stronger liquid because 12mg is just not doing it AT ALL.

So today is Thursday.  I'm baking tomorrow and have three hours left today to clean.  I'm busy from 10 am Sat to ten pm and then church on Sunday.  I guess I will stick to my norm which is to bust my @$$ cleaning in the two hours between when he aid he'll probably be here and getting home.

I also need to figure out what we are going to have for dinner and if he's going to want dinner or if he's going to want to snack...

AND OMG I JUST REALIZED this will be the first time he'll get to actually meet my daughters.  I'm not ready for this.  I hadn't planned on that.  Oh crap.

I'm about to go spinning out of my mind and it's not one of those fun ones.  This is going to be the outside calm and inside a bundle of nerves spinning.  I'm going to be a mess for the next few days.

When I was with the last guy I was with I didn't introduce him to my kids.  I didn't want to go there.  And the only other guy that's actually been in my house since then met my girls but we are just friends so there was no "I want you guys to meet my friend." introduction.  I don't even know how to make that introduction.  Oh God Oh God Oh God.....

You guys stay frosty, I'm going to go worry myself into looking forty years old.  I'm pretty sure I will give myself a million grey hairs in the next few days.

What the eff am I about to do????

I think I'm going insane.

I'm up, I'm down, I pull myself up and I sink back down.  I walk around my house and all I do is sigh.

Just once, I would love for my emotions to be on a stable ground without having to take drastic measures.  When I say something to my doctor, she recommends counseling.  Now that would be fine if every single therapist I speak to about my moods says that my massive moods swings are because I basically live in a fantasy world.

Okay so yeah I do, I will admit that one free and clear.  I have lived in my own private fantasy world for years now.  In that world, I am loved by not only my friends; all of them all of the time.  No one takes advantage of me, no one pays attention to me ONLY when they need to vent on me or lay their problems at my feet.  No one expects me to be the stalwart little soldier who stands tall and doesn't cry that I'm expected to be in reality.  I'm not saying that I am the center of attention in that world because I'm not.  Really I never see myself as that; I never want to be that.  I've never wanted people catering to my every desire or making sure that above anything else, I had what I wanted.  That's not my style but in the happy bright world, I do have what I want and need at no expense to others.  And they have what they need at no expense to me.

Here in the real world, I'm loved, I know I am.  But it's a fractured kind of love.  My kids love me but honestly, sometimes I think if I were to drop dead tomorrow, they'd miss me but they'd be okay.  And that's crazy because isn't that what every parent wants for their child?? To know that if something happened to them that second, their kids would be able to survive?  I want that but I don't.  It's very confusing.  My mom loves me, I know she does.  I'm her only child and I have had her undivided attention for years upon years.  That's where we have a fissure though.  I'm the only.  Whereas other parents have a couple of kids and refuse to let the younger grow up, My mom has had no one to let go of therefore, no matter what I do, a piece of me is still a sixteen year old kid who doesn't know how to survive without being told what to to do, how to do it, and when or why.  I get around it.  It's reality.  I have friends who love me but that's where we have another fissure.  I have friends that love me for me.  They don't care if I'm up or down, if I'm down or out.  If I'm up, they roll for the ride and when I'm down they try like hell to make waves to get me up again.  But I also have friends who really honestly couldn't give a rats ass about me unless they need something from me.  Most notably the ones that call me to tell me about ALL the crap they are going through but when the point in the conversation is reached where they ask me if I'm okay comes up... they have to go.  Everytime.  I can't tell any of my other friends about these friends because then they tell me to drop said friends and said friends were there for me when other people weren't so really, isn't it my turn to take one for the team and listen?

Here in reality, no one loves me the way a man should love a woman.  Here in reality, I get up every day and see my kids and listen to my girls jabber about people at school and when they think I'm not in hearing range, jabber about the boys they like.  I would give my eye teeth to go back to a time as easy as elementary school.  To pass a note in class that says Do you like me? Check yes or no.

In my dream world, that guy always checks yes and no matter what we walk off into the sunset.  I don't know if we stay happy in the sunset or we date for a bit then break up and stay good friends but dammit at least he walked into the sunset with me.  At least he kissed me.  At least he gave me a chance.

My book is finally being published.  I can't tell you how over the moon I am about that.  It has literally been a lifelong dream to be published. and now it;s coming true but you know what?  As happy as I should be about that, I find that I'm worried about how it will be received.  Will people look at it in the bookstore, maybe read the back and then put it back?  Or will they read the back and think "Oh wow, this sounds awesome" and buy it, and read it, and convince others to buy it, and read it and so on and so forth?

The stress of all of that is enough to crack the shiny surface alone.  Add the other stuff and really?  Is it a wonder I prefer to live in the world where I'm a best selling author with the guy who walked into the sunset with me?

So back to the therapist/ counselor/ psychiatrist.  They insist that I live in this world but I need to come out of that world and stay here in reality and you know what? They can help with that with fruity tasting behavioral pills that make the voices go away.   They make me see this reality as the only reality

And that depresses me even more.  So they up the meds and I'm basically a puppet who laughs if the mood seems to be jovial, who is caring if that's what needed but basically silent and waiting for the cue card to tell her what the say/do/feel all the rest of times.  I don't write, I don't edit I don't even read when I do the meds and zombie out.

Does anyone else struggle with their psyche the way I do mine.  I feel like I'm in a never ending battle to stay sane and not climb a clocktower.

And if I see this damn shadow dart past me again I swear I'm going to lose my mind.  I have been seeing it for days now!

What the hell is wrong with me??