032218: behavior, bowels and my brood

I’m not sure where to begin this morning. I suppose I’ll start with the good news: I passed my exam! I’m officially a BCBA!

It’s still sinking in that I passed and I’m board certified now. That’s crazy – board certified. I passed one of the toughest exams out there… And not on the first try… or even the second try. It took three times to pass.

This exam has been a true test of patience, resilience, and work. I feel like I still have so much to learn. I have really enjoyed collaborating with other professionals since I started working as a BA. I feel like I have been acquiring more knowledge through my work than my schooling.

This whole experience has been a really great example to my son (I think and I hope). He has been following this whole journey. Each time before I took the exam he would wish me luck. He would ask Mommy are you going to pass this time? I hope you pass this time. I would always say that’s the plan, bud. I kept telling him that even though I hadn’t passed yet, I wasn’t going to give up. This is a goal that I have and I will pass the test, no matter how many times it takes.

I was convinced I failed. I walked out of the exam feeling like I failed. I told myself not to think about it until the results came out. I wasn’t sure how I was going to rally up for a fourth try and I’m awfully glad I didn’t have to cross that bridge. Yesterday morning I saw people posting about their results. I didn’t keep my window open because it was causing me anxiety. I told my husband that I’m pretty sure I failed, I just need notification so I can move on with my life and figure out a new plan.

I was just about to close down my computer and I decided to check the gateway once more. I was able to log in and saw the word “passed.” I gasped so loud, Pepper ran over to me and was like “HUMAN, YOUR FACE DID A WEIRD THING. LET ME LICK IT TO MAKE SURE IT WORKS.” Then I began to sob hysterically. I called my husband immediately. He didn’t answer, so I started sending an obnoxious series of texts which consisted mostly of HUSBAND. HUSBAND. HUSBAND. HUSBAND PHONE. PICK UP THE PHONE. HUSBAND. Of course each word was sent individually for emphasis amidst calling numerous times. When he finally answered, I cried out between sobs “I passed!” He said, “Way to go, idiot! I told you you would pass, ya dummy.” I laughed and cried and all I could say was “I passed.” He of course kept laughing at me (in a good way, mind you) and saying congratulations. Then he said “Now you can build your boat!” I was like, OH YEAH! I CAN BUILD MY BOAT!! When he got home he said “Congratulations, board certified smart wife.” ; 3

About the boat: so we know I love Legos, yes? This is no secret. One of the most recent Lego Ideas was a ship in a bottle. I thought it was TREMENDOUSLY cool. Both Kevin & Cayden said, “Well, you need to get that for when you pass your exam and have a fancy office. Every fancy professional has a ship in a bottle.” So, although we didn’t quite have the dollars for it, husband and I agreed – this is totally a necessary frivolous expense. The caveat, though, was that I couldn’t build it until I passed the exam.

The package arrived, I opened it and just sighed. It’s been sitting out, staring at me, almost mockingly, for over a month. BUILD ME, it was saying. PASS AND YOU CAN BUILD ME. Kevin and I would be playing games and I would just sit and stare at the box, “Some day,” I would think, “I will build you and you will be MY fancy ship in a bottle.”

I started building last night ; 3 However, I still was not feeling aces, so I stopped building to take a shower and go lay in bed. My stomach situation is improving, minimally. I finally broke down and took medicine for it. I really need to stop being so stubborn about medicine. It’s there for a reason. It’s helpful.

Man, board certified. Crazy.

So, of course, people knowing I am how I am asked, “What’s next?” My plan, now, is to wait for my certificate to arrive. Once my certificate arrives, I can level up at work. I’m going to start contacting people to try and get involved in research opportunities. I’m also going to look more in to the sign language program. I may hold off on that one… Lies. I’ll research it and probably start in the fall.

You know how yesterday I talked about Doods and her drawings? Yesterday she started to color her entire whiteboard blue. We looked at it and went… what the hell is she doing? Maybe she is drawing water? an ocean? There was nothing else on the board except for blue. This morning I walked past the board and went OH MY GOD, I GET IT. I KNOW WHAT SHE’S DOING. She was drawing a negative screen. She watches these like… demonic sounding videos where the video is reverse/negative image. THAT is what she was drawing. Let me show you…

VT neg screenkaylee screen

Isn’t that crazy? She’s never done that before and honestly, it’s kind of brilliant. She is such an interesting child.

Anyway. So that’s the scoop for now – Board Certified. Insides are still messed up. Children are amazing weirdos.

Thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.


032118: missing pieces

I woke up this morning and got Doods ready for school. She gets herself dressed, for the most part – just needs a little assistance like remembering to put on a bra and deodorant. If I set them out on her table, she’ll do it. If I don’t, it’s about a 50/50 chance she’ll remember her bra and almost a guaranteed 0 for deodorant. Anyway, she got dressed and I brushed her hair. I decided to put it in pigtails today. I told her she looked cute, she checked herself in the mirror, smiled, grabbed her iPad and went on her merry way.

She definitely understands what “You look so pretty!” and “You’re so cute!” means. She’ll go check herself in the mirror, smile, and get on with her life. It’s important to me that she understands what those phrases mean and that she has a positive self-view. Depression, anxiety, low self-esteem, and low self-concept are HUGE issues for the disabled population. I try, at least once a day, to tell her she is pretty, smart, funny and wonderful and that I love her so much and I’m happy she is my daughter. You can tell she is a confident kid. She is confident, creative, and very loved.

I watched her play this morning. She goes in spurts of what she likes to do. She loves to draw. She has a large dry erase board and basket of markers. She likes to pull up pictures on her iPad (usually of VeggieTales) and draws them on her board. Recently, she has started to give them more appropriate eyes. What I mean by that is – before now, “eyes” were two black dots that were vertically stacked. Now, she is clearing some white space and placing them almost horizontally next to one another. The amount of detail she puts in to the drawings is incredible. They aren’t well-defined drawings, but she uses all the colors she sees. If you know the characters, you can tell who you’re looking at now. They used to just be blurs. I often wonder if she is drawing them the way she is seeing them. I guess I’ll never know.

This morning she didn’t draw. She went to the DVDs. She was looking at them very purposefully… like she was comparing them to whatever she was looking at on her iPad or doing research or something. I sat on the couch and watched my little girl… who’s not so little any more. She’s 10 years old. I watched this 10 year old with pig tales and pink smiley face t-shirt just go about her business before heading off to school.

I started to think about the future. It feels like just yesterday that I was snuggling this itty bitty podling baby. Same with Boy Child. I haven’t been feeling well and I asked BC to help with dinner on Monday. He was SO. EXCITED. This was his chance to be the caretaker. Granted, dinner was frozen pizzas, but he did the thing. He looked at the boxes, set the oven, got them on the pans, set the timer, got them out and even tried to cut one (before we said Good job! Let me do the next one). That may not seem like a lot, but that is a LOT of steps and he did it – without any help, really. At one point, he did yell to me that he couldn’t open the pizza bag and I said use scisssors, bud and he said oh yeah! When you have a kid with a disability, even the littlest things are work and take training.

I’m glad I’ve taken the time to show him how to do these things. I’ve stood by and watched him so that he knows how to take care of himself and others. These are important skills to have as an independent human being.

Anyway, Girl Child. I watched her this morning and thought about how quickly time has gone by and how these next years are going to go even faster. What decisions am I going to make? How can I continue to help them both grow? What kind of life can I continue to pave for them? Am I doing enough?

My answer to that last one is almost always no, but we won’t get in to that trap this morning.

My kids are getting bigger every day and I can’t help but feel like I missed something. I feel like I have given them a good childhood so far. It’s been tough most of the time, but I’ve done the best I could with what I’ve had. I can tell they are both happy kids and that they know they are very loved by us. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like something is missing. I can’t quite put my finger on it at the moment.

It was weird answering the ultrasound tech’s question yesterday when she asked how old I was. It felt so foreign to say, “I’m 33.” Like, fuck, I’m 33. When did that happen? It feels like just yesterday I was in my mid-twenties with two crazy babies running around. I feel so old. My body is tired. My spirit is tired. I’ve been fairly resilient throughout my life and my experiences and I’m tired. I’m hoping after my ladybit shenanigans gets resolved I can get back on track – just being active. Be active, be outside, get back to enjoying my life instead of being sad and sick all the time.

I almost feel like I haven’t accomplished anything. Which I know for a fact is bullshit. I’ve accomplished a lot of things so far, I really have. I almost feel like… maybe I peaked too early? I don’t know. I was this super motivated person all through my 20s with this, “Fuck you, I’ll show you!” attitude and it helped me to accomplish a great many things…. just now… I’m tired. I don’t have that same drive. Which I guess isn’t a bad thing. I still have goals but I guess it’s okay to just chill the fuck out and exist for awhile. I don’t know.

I still feel like something is missing.

Anyways, thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.

032018: see me from the inside

Hey campers,

Today was ultrasound day. I’ve been feeling… not well over the past week, so handsome husband took me to my appointment. We did the first part of the ultrasound, then I got to pee (which felt glorious) and when I came back out we were going to do the second part. While I was waiting for the second part, I (of course) took a look at the pictures on the screen.

Now, I’m not a doctor (I just play one on TV), but I’m pretty sure what I saw wasn’t great. When the tech came back in I asked her, “So what is that? What are those pictures of?” She got wide-eyed and quickly said, “NOTHING. That’s just the gel. Those aren’t pictures of anything.” She then turned the screen … Girl, please. I’m not new. I’ve had two kids. WHAT IS THAT IN MY BODY.

I told Kevin afterwards. Husband, of course, said don’t read in to any thing, but I was already off and running and miles away. The tech said the radiologist will read the pictures within 1-2 days and then get the results to my doctor who will follow up with me.

Of course, now that husband is at work and I have my computer, I’m scouring ultrasounds of lady parts to see what looked like what I saw. Damn you photographic memory and the internet. On the brightside (I guess?) it didn’t look like the cancer ultrasounds. At least, from what I saw. It looked more like the cystic ultrasounds. We will see.

Let me tell you, though, a probe ultrasound is so uncomfortable. It’s like – oh your insides hurt? Let me jab ’em with this big stick for a while and take pictures, ok? AWESOME. Plus there’s no wining and dining beforehand. No sweet talk or anything. It’s just a long, cold, weird dildo that gets maneuvered around your insides – but without any foreplay or happy ending.

Afterwards, handsome husband and I went to breakfast. I needed that time with him. We went to one of our old joints – Aunt Sally’s. We both were experiencing HUGE flashbacks. He used to go there with his family all the time. I went there every month on late start days in high school with my friends. We had fun reminiscing, sharing memories and eating lots of tasty food.

I enjoy my husband. Very much. He is always extra positive when I’m crying and convinced I’m dying. He always makes me laugh and feel loved and supported.

Ok, I need to rest a little bit before I do somethings this afternoon.

Thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.

031618: Riding bad ass bears, Geoff & Lucy

For whatever reason the 20 minutes right before I fall asleep my body goes: OHMYGOD, IHAVESOMUCHENERGYRIGHTNOW, INEEDTOGETTHISALLOUTOFMYSYSTEM, BAHAHAHAHAHHHHH. It’s usually a time where my brain goes off to a foreign land and comes back with obscure questions and thoughts that I, of course, share with my husband. Usually ridiculous conversations ensue….Well, either that or he gets really annoyed, turns over and falls asleep.

My husband has an incredible talent – he can fall asleep in .0000001 seconds. We can be talking, having a deep or jovial discussion, then next thing I know I’m hearing the chainsaws from his nasal cavity activate. What the hell? I’m slightly jealous. Sometimes it takes me an hour to fall asleep and he can do it faster than a fingersnap. Jerk.

But then! After like five minutes of his death breathing, he’ll pick up the conversation where we left off. Wait, what? Yeah, my thought exactly. Jerk.

Anyway. I honestly don’t know where these thoughts come from, but clearly these are pressing issues that have to be addressed. Last night began with me asking my husband if he ever thought about putting a saddle on a polar bear and riding the most bad ass of bears. He said Well, I don’t think the bear would stand for that. I said, “well, of course not. He’d have to be on all fours to ride.” My husband was significantly less amused than I was by that. He just annoyingly snorted and said, “Good. good for you, hunny.” To which I give my standard, “No, hunny – good for YOU.”

But, really, wouldn’t that be amazing? Given that you wouldn’t be mauled by the most vicious of the bears. Grizzlies look like pussies in comparison to Polar bears. “Look at me, I’m a grizzly bear gettin’ this salmon out of the river.” FUCK YOU, I’M A POLAR BEAR AND I EAT SEALS.

I think they’d be fun to ride…. less the whole potentially getting mauled and eaten part.

Then I asked Kevin if he thought animals have their own version of PETA. He says, “What, like, AETP? Animals for the ethical treatment of people?” I said, “No, more like AETA – Animals for the ethical treatment of Animals. You know, like, we have human rights organizations who protect the rights of other people, why not animals? What if there’s like… one lone wolf who is a vegetarian and is friends with a squirrel?”

“Sweetie,” he said, “I don’t think animals work that way.”

I said, “But they do! People spend their lives studying the social patterns of animals. I don’t think they’re a democratic society. They’re clearly a Patriarchal society – after all, it is called the Animal KINGDOM.

“Why are you the way you are?” says my loving, caring husband.

“What? Don’t you think there’s some lone hipster wolf with some sort of ivy scarf hanging out there? One that wants to befriend and protect the other animals?”

“No, I don’t” says husband. “PLUS How is a wolf going to make a scarf??? They don’t even have opposable thumbs!”

“Right, they DON’T – that’s where the squirrels come in. They could totally make an ivy scarf for the wolf as gratitude for not being eaten.” Because, let’s be serious, if *I* was a squirrel, I would totally make floral bric-a-brac for my non-squirrel eating friends and allies. “PLUS small animals totally do that shit all the time. I’ve seen it in cartoons. They help make dresses for balls and everything.”

Kevin wasn’t quite getting on my level with the capabilities of woodland creatures. He also said that my wolf sounded like a gay hipster. I told him that’s also why he would befriend squirrels – because they play with nuts. Also, in my head, the wolf’s name is Geoff and his squirrel-friend’s name is Lucy. It just feels right.

He eventually laughed and said, “You are a beautiful, wonderful person. You’re just the greatest, wife. Go to sleep.” Of course more ridiculous antics continued for the next few minutes, but I relaxed next to my patient, handsome husband and fell asleep.

(I’d like to note here that this post is in no way meant to be derogatory to hipsters, the LGBT community, PETA, AETA (because I’m certain this exists and we just don’t know about it) birds, wolves, bears, seals or salmon)

I should draw my hipster wolf, Geoff, and friend, Lucy. I’ll put it on my list. Which reminds me, I have a robo-dog barking bees that I need to get to sketchin’. Perhaps I’ll do some of that this weekend while husband is getting drunk on green beer reliving the glory days…. By the way, husband, I know you read this: I’m not taking care of your hangover on Sunday. DRINK MORE WATER. ❤

Okay, I need to get work done. Handsome husband and I have a wake to go to this evening as well as go to our belated dating anniversary dinner.

Thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.



031518: socially minded students

Boy Child and his Dad have…. interesting conversations.

Yesterday when they walked in the door, they were talking about nuclear weapons and warfare. This has actually been a common topic of interest for BC lately and it’s thanks, mostly, to two things (a) our current President and (b) daily doses of CNN at school.

Now, I don’t think it’s a bad thing for the kids to be aware of the world around them, creating little beings with a world-view, but….they’re in sixth grade. They’re 11 years old. When I was 11, I wasn’t thinking about nuclear weapons, politics, or anything like that. I was thinking about how much I couldn’t wait for school to be over so I could sit outside and read my book or ride my bike or what kind of sneaky shit I could get away with.

I remember we had our weekly Scholastic Readers. That was our world news source in junior high. You had your super flimsy paper scholastic world “newspaper” (complete with activities), had a small group discussion and went on your merry way. Now, my kid watches CNN everyday and knows significantly more about current world events than I do.

I’m both OK and not OK with this.

They’re kids, right? You’re only a kid once. Be an ignorant kid. That’s your job. Be a kid, be stupid, get dirty, get hurt, take risks, go nuts! Because you can’t really do that shit when you get older. You have the rest of your life to be responsible and socially minded and overtaken by extreme anxiety by the thousands of ways you can potentially die. That shouldn’t rest on an 11 year old’s shoulders.

I like that kids are learning to gain a sense of world responsibility, but – calm your tits and give it a few years. Because they watch the daily news, I get to deal with the rampant anxieties and over-active imagination of my 11 year child with Autism. It’s super fun.

It doesn’t help that his Dad is also on the spectrum, has recently read a book on the subject and is somewhat socially depraved…. so he talks about it with his son who has just asked him questions about nuclear weapons because of what he saw on CNN at school.

So, in they walk, talking about nuclear weapons. BC is putting his things away and they’re still talking… and talking…. and I choose to redirect the focus to something a little more important – homework. Let’s flip that switch and get done what needs to get done right now. Weapons and warfare can wait.

I hesitate to present books on the subject to BC. I don’t want to end up on an episode of Killer Kids or something. He has some difficultly distinguishing between fantasy and reality. He is having a hard tie wrapping his head around what happened when we dropped the bombs in Japan. He has a weird interest in Hitler and Nazi Germany, too…. And it’s not so much for the ideals…. I guess it’s he’s trying to understand warfare? Like, how do people do such terrible things to other people?

Not too long ago, BC heard a Holocaust survivor speak and subsequently read her book. He has been pushing me to read it, too. I’m not the kind of person who can have multiple books going at one time, but I can devour single books fairly quickly. I was in the middle of reading Notorious RBG, so I told him when I finished, I would read his book. Being the awesome Mom I am, I made good on my promise.

I devoured his book in a day and called him up from his realm of Legos. I said, Ok bud, I read your book. What would you like to talk about? He was mostly focused on how sad it was that people were treated that way, how they died, and was having a hard time understanding that people treated other people that way. He’s part German and I think he’s trying to rectify this situation with his background.

We keep telling him, though, you’re American – through and through. We are so far removed from our German culture/heritage, we’re 100% American. We are trying to teach him about equal rights organizations and things like that. It’s almost like… I need to come up with an at-home curriculum or something. It’s definitely given me ideas for the summer.

I asked him if anyone walked out of school yesterday. What they did at his school was discouraged walking out. Anyone who walked out would be marked truant. What they DID do, however, was took that time and taught the students how to make change – they taught them how to look up their representatives, contact them, and began writing a letter stating their point of view. They were teaching these younger kids how to use their voices for change. I can appreciate that. Protests are one way of being heard. Learning who to contact to initiate change is another. It’s a great learning opportunity. It’s way of being socially-minded for your community and country. I can get with that.

Maybe I’ll make it a Socially-Minded Summer. Hmph. It’s an idea. It’ll be interesting… and could be good. I’ll think about that one.

Allright, those are the musings for today.

Thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.

031418: sweet and sour

Time for some brutal honesty, here.

I love my husband.

I do not love some of my family’s decisions.

Now, I know that everybody’s family has a certain level of fuckery that goes on. It’s totally normal. No one is perfect and shouldn’t be expected to be perfect. I live my life in a disabled world and I LOVE it. Why? Because even the smallest of successes are celebrated. You got your dinner plate and sat at the table with only hearing “dinner’s ready”? AWESOME. You’re starting to type words on a keyboard and make sentences? AMAZING. You made eye contact with me and cracked a smile? SUPER DOPE.

I think working with this population gives me close to zero tolerance for other people. I asked Kevin last night: Is it worse to do something bad and not know it’s bad OR to do something bad even though you KNOW it’s bad? We both immediately said the latter.

Which brings me to my opening statement. So, Kevin & I were planning a trip to Nashville – both to see my sister and so I could attend a conference. I was on a waiting list for this conference, so we weren’t sure of our departure date but I talked with my sister with plenty of advance notice…. long story short, I was accepted to the conference, told my sister and then she responded with, “Sorry, we are going on a vacation.”

Now, at this point, everyone I have relayed this story to asked the same exact question: So, can you just stay at your sister’s house while they’re away?

The answer: No. 

However, she is incapable of straight out saying, “No, you cannot stay here.” Her response is along the lines of, “Sorry your trip didn’t work out.” My Mom talked with her and asked her, “Well from the way you’re talking, it doesn’t even sound like you’d let me stay either. Would you let me stay at your house?” She replied, “Honestly? No.”

Additionally, Kevin’s brother & wife and her sister & husband were ALSO going to be in Nashville during that time. We were planning on spending some QT with my sister/hubs and then with his brother/wife. It was going to be an adult family fun time – which never happens, ever. My SIL posted on FB asking for suggestions on what they should do while in Nashville. I had commented earlier on her status and, if you have FB, you know you get the subsequent comment notifications. Which I did. So I looked. I saw my sister commented on her status…. which means she is friends with my SIL.

A point of note here is: My sister is not friends with me on facebook by her choice. She does not want to be publicly associated with me, my husband or anything that we do. She is friends with my Mom, Dad, and, apparently, my sister in law… but not me.

This is my real life, guys. True story.

Of course my Mom, being the wonderful person she is, continues to come to my sister’s defense. Even though she is well aware that, as her mother, SHE isn’t even welcome in their home. I asked her, “Doesn’t that offend you? Aren’t you offended by that? YOU’RE HER MOTHER.” She said No. But I know my Mom. I know her face. Her face said everything. Her face said: I really wish you two would get along. I wish my other daughter didn’t say ‘No.’ I wish my brother and I got along, too. 

THAT makes me sad. THAT makes me upset. I am more upset over what this does to my Mom than it does to me. All my Mom has ever wanted from us as siblings was to be the best of sister friends… which we clearly will never be. It took us YEARS to even just be on cordial terms and be able to share space for a few days. We’re never besties. It’s just not the nature of our personalities and relationship, which is OK. That’s fine.

BUT. You can’t purposefully choose to keep people out of your life and expect things to be all honky-dory fine and dandy. It doesn’t work that way.

I don’t hold any of our parent’s actions against her in any way. But I will hold her accountable for her own actions. Now, my Dad – he makes some not great decisions when it comes to relationships but I get it. I know how he grew up, I know his 10 siblings all have similar issues, and I know that he’s going to do what he thinks is ok… even when it’s totally not. BUT my Dad, I can tell him – hey, I really don’t like when you do this shit, this shit and this shit and he’ll go…. oh, fuck, I’m sorry. I’ll try not to do that. I appreciate that. I can work with that. He’s my weirdo Dad and I love him for it. He tries.

Conversely, my sister knows full well what she is doing. She is hyper aware of her actions…. and still does them. I don’t appreciate that. I can’t work with that. So I don’t and I won’t.

I have enough stress and anxiety in my life with my mom, my kids and my self that I don’t need that additional source of stress.

We’re all adults and we make our own choices. We have one life to live and it’s full of the results of our choices. I choose not to carry around negativity or hard feelings – which is something my handsome husband doesn’t quite understand. He gets upset for me in these situations. I appreciate that because it shows how much he cares about me, my feelings and my well-being. For me, it’s like.. if you want to be shitty about something, you go right on ahead and be shitty over there in your area. I’ll be chillin’ over here not effected. Same with arguments. I don’t get mad. It drives my Mom and Kevin insane. They’ll be dialed up to 11 and I’m hangin’ out at a 1, maybe 2.

Anyway. I just….don’t put any energy in to it, I guess. It’s clear how people feel and who deserves energy and who doesn’t. With this whole recent incident, my Mom even said, “You need to pick your battles. You should be grateful she picked the battle to come to your wedding.” Of course, my response was: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I SHOULD BE GRATEFUL THAT MY SISTER DECIDED TO ARGUE WITH HER HUSBAND ABOUT COMING TO MY WEDDING? Then she told me to stop being shitty. Yes, *I* was being shitty because I got upset that I should be grateful she chose to argue about coming to my wedding. Yeah, ok. I love my Mom, but cripes. C’mon now.

If it’s her husband that’s the issue well, then, that’s a whole different conversation.

Either way, like I said – we’re adults and we all make our choices. Our lives are the results of those choices.

Me? I choose to surround myself with people who I love and love me back. Who aren’t afraid of who I am as a person. Who support me in my endeavors and enrich my life in one way or another. Who teach me – about their knowledge, about their interests, about my self, about everything I don’t know* (*and was afraid to ask). Who love me whether I’m talking about pole, pot or psychotic breakdowns (and let’s be real, I don’t talk much about the first two on that list, but it makes for decent alliteration – which we know I’m a fan of). I choose to surround myself with people who make me feel appreciated, good enough, and worth their time and energy. I’m really hoping other people can say the same about me.

I’d really hope people would tell me if I was being shitty. Well, actually, they do. They really do. I have a solid crew of people who will call me out on my bullshit and I love them all the more for it. I have people that I can lay it all out to and they’ll bring me back to Earth. Good people, they are. I’m a very fortunate person. While you can’t choose your family, you can always choose your friends – they become your tribe.

I feel better getting that out of my system. That’s been occurring over the past few days with last night being kind of the final straw. Considering the dreams I had last night, I knew I needed to get it out of my system. Can’t carry that shit around, man. It’s bad for your body. This is why I make the choices I do – for a healthier me. I’m doin’ the damn thing.

Anywhos. Other than that whole hot mess of a situation – its pi day! It’s also the day that, ironically, Stephen Hawking passed away. It’s also Kevin’s and my dating anniversary (because we’re neeeerrrrddsss).

At my lady doctor appointment, she was doing her bewbie exam and saw the tattoo I have on my rib cage under my left bewb. It’s the molecular structure of sugar with a heart as the center O. She got REALLY excited and goes, “OH WHAT’S THAT??” (makes sense that a Doctor would get excited over a molecular structure tattoo). I told her that’s the molecular structure for sugar. My husband always calls me “sugar”. The heart is for sweetheart. And it’s close to my heart. She got THE biggest, cheesiest, shit eating grin on her face and said excitedly, “I LOVE IT. That’s so sweet, I love it!”

Then I told her about the one he has and she laughed. I told her that Kevin and I love to play cribbage, because we’re old people. In cribbage, if you lose by a certain number of points, it’s called getting “skunked.” If you lose by even more points, it’s called getting “double skunked.” So, my husband has a double skunk – it’s a single body with two heads (a lady head and a man head) and a split tail that makes a heart. She kept on smiling and said, “I really like that, that’s wonderful. I love it.” Her enjoyment of our nerd love made me all squishy because our love makes me warm and squishy…. like my lady parts. I suppose that means our love is like a vagina.


That transitive property doesn’t always make the most sense. ; )

Ok, enough of that. I think I’m going to rest a little before starting to work on things. My brain feels tired and my body feels not great. I hope you all get to celebrate Pi day in some way today. I also hope that you show someone kindness today. Just a little bit of kindness. It goes a long way.

Thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.


031318: the clock is ticking

I don’t like running out the clock. I can be one of the most patient and impatient people on the planet.

With my kids, with my clients, with anyone that has some sort of impairment or disability – all the patience in the world. I can wait out behaviors and talk down crazy with the best of ’em.


It’s a good thing I have my handsome, squishy, Algae husband to keep me calm, focused and redirected when it comes to the latter.

I feel good about a recent decision I made. It feels like I actually made the right decision. It’s comforting…. like Hooray! I did it! I adulted!

I would really like to fast forward a few weeks from now. I don’t remember what I wrote about yesterday and I usually don’t go back and re-read my posts. Once it’s out of my head, it stays there. I don’t necessarily want to look back at anything and fill it with anything other than the present. The present is enough of a challenge in and of itself.

I want to know the ultrasound results. I want to know what’s going on and how to fix it.

Contrary to how I’ve been living the past few years, I actually really enjoy being active. However, as my crappy body craps out on me, I’ve become less and less active. It’s really getting irritating. I like to go hiking, climbing, fuck – even just on a walk. I can’t even go on a walk because I end up in a ridiculous amount of pain. I’m hoping this ultrasound shows something and we can fix it.

I would really just like to go a day without pain. That would be super neat.


Thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.

031218: riding the crazy train

Do you ever feel like while you’ve acknowledged a fair amount of your crazy and instability that there’s a whole nother realm of crazy just waiting to come out and party?

Sometimes when I’m laying in bed, before I go to sleep, my brain takes that as a cue – “LET’S DO THIS THING. LET’S GET WEIRD.” Last night, for instance, as my pre-sleep spastic energy died down (husband and I were discussing what a Presidential porno would entail, peppered with phrases like “I’ll Dick your Cheney!” and “It should be titled ‘Watergate.””), I closed my eyes and immediately envisioned a millipede coming out of my nose. I opened my eyes, looked around, closed them again and it was like… I was surrounded by Killer Klowns that had gone through toxic waste and become even WEIRDER looking. This is a pretty regular thing. Not the Klowns, but weird shit coming very vividly to hang out in my pre-dream house.

There’s always dreams, too. The night before I woke up because I was trying to escape being murdered. You know when you have a dream and you know the people in your dream? Except you don’t know them at all? They don’t look familiar in any way, but your brain is saying, “oh hey, you know those guys! they’re your friends!” Then they try to murder you, so you move in a way so that your back is never to the dreamland murderesses as you “inconspicuously” walk to your car to leave. But then you finally get to your car in dreamy murderland only to find it’s locked, you can’t get it open and the murderesses are closing in. Then you hear your child chirping happily to (what I can readily assume was) VeggieTales and wake up. It’s quarter to six. Might as well get up and make the donuts.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s my future… not being murdered in dreamland by fake friends, but hanging out with demented clown people and bugs in my body. Like, that’s the shit that goes through my head before I go to sleep – the defenses are down, I’m not actively using my brain so that leaves it wiiiiddeee open for all the crazy to just come flooding in. Sometimes the crazy is fun and leads to hilarious conversation… well I think it’s hilarious conversation, although Kevin may not always agree. Particularly when we are talking about what underwater sea creatures we would be and I tell him I think he would make good Algae.

Sure, it’s not the sexiest of sea creatures, but hang with me here – Algae produces clean air AND it’s a superfood. It’s helpful in all different aspects of the environment and so is my husband. He helps me breathe cleaner and is, in a way, my superfood. Plus it’s squishy, like my husband. And I LOVE HIM THAT WAY. I love my squishy Algae husband.

Then I wonder what kind of fun brain-antics my kids will face as they get older. Genetically, they won the party having me as their Mom and a Dad who also has your garden variety of mental illnesses. They both have Autism…. it’s common for people with Autism to have some kind of co-morbid diagnosis. I think Boy Child will end up with some sort of bipolar diagnosis and Doods? At some point, intellectual disability will get tacked on, but she doesn’t really show any other symptoms of concern. Schizophrenia is a big one (I mean, that’s actually where Autism has it’s roots), but she’s not showing anything yet and let’s just hope it stays that way.

Anyway. I’m pretty sure I relayed the message about my degenerating back. If not, hey, my back is degenerating! Neat! Earlier today I had my lady doctor visit. My primary care doctor STRONGLY URGED I follow up with her when I told him what was going on. So I went, got fingered in the name of science and received an order for an ultrasound to check out my inner ladybits. I’ll know that verdict in about two weeks, so I’ll keep you guys updated on that.

I spoke with a friend earlier today because, of course, everything is cancer and I’m dying. But he gave me the proverbial friendly bitch slap and brought me back to some semblance of reality. No need to worry until it’s time to worry…. unless you have an anxiety disorder, in which case – EVERY time is a time to worry. Don’t have a reason? I’ll totally give you a reason. I’ll do better than that, I’ll give you 10 reasons! Why? Because I’m an overachiever, that’s why.

I just try to keep my hands busy so I don’t start picking at my face or biting my nails. Go go gadget anxiety response! Yeah!

I think it’s time I make myself another cup of coffee. Doods decided 3 am was a perfectly acceptable time to be awake…. and then to keep checking my face to see if I was awake. God made that child adorable and gave me coffee and a job I can do from home so that she makes it another decade of life.

Ok. Coffee time.

Thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.

030618: navigating the fog

Brain fog. Inability to focus.

I’ve been really tired lately. I fell asleep yesterday after laying down. Now, I don’t nap. It’s a very rare occasion that I nap. I slept for two hours. Then I slept for ten hours last night.

I mean, I was up with Doods the night before. She was up last night, but husband took a turn and got up with her. So why am I so freaking tired?

We had a wonderful, blissful week of sleep. Doods slept through the night every night. She was on her cycle and sick. Is it terrible to wish your child had that combo all the time so you can sleep?

I guess I’m feeling the weight and stress of everything.

Doods has… *had* moles on her back. She effectively scratched them off. But of course, I’m worried about them. I took her to the doctor so I could get a referral to the dermatologist for her. The next available derm appt. is in June. JUNE. How ridiculous is that?

Test results come out in a few weeks. I haven’t been really focused on it as what’s done is done. I just don’t know if I passed or not. I don’t feel secure. I don’t know if I passed or not. I don’t know what I’ll do if I didn’t pass. I don’t know how I’ll feel. Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

I go to the doctor on Monday. That will probably involve some follow up. Maybe some answers.

March holds potential. It can either be super great or a dud. We will find out at the end of the month. I just feel tired.

This weekend is another one of our Marvel Movie Marathons. But we are going to take BC to see Black Panther in the morning first. We are almost through all the movies. We will see Black Panther, then watch three movies. Next month is the last one – the last two before Infinity War. Then I’ll be all caught up. It’s been really neat watching them in close order – following the story, development, continuity – it’s neat. I’m excited for Black Panther.

I need to get it together.

Thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.

365: one year down

One year ago, I woke up and said to myself “I can’t do this any more, I need help.”

I had scabs all over my scalp. I had dry patches all over my body. I was constantly nauseas. I had perpetual headaches and terrible migraines. My boss laughed in my face when I told her about my situation. I went to the doctor and went back only to retrieve my things and provide closure to my consumers.

I still keep in touch with some of my staff. It wasn’t their fault. I give them immense credit for hanging there. I just couldn’t do it.

A year ago, I was wrapping up my coursework, waiting to interview for the PhD program, and fighting for survival. I remember breaking down in the doctor’s office. I kept it together until I got with the psych PA. She asked, “what is it you want?” I broke down sobbing saying, “I just want to be ok.” She said, “I believe because you want to, you will.”

And, you know, hey, I’m here! So that’s pretty neat ; D

I wish I had something more profound to say. I wish I had some really great inspirational message for you. I’ve thought about it for over a week, knowing this day was approaching…. All I can really say, though, is I’m here.

Maybe that’s all I really need to say? I needed help. I took myself to get help. I followed through with my care, for the most part, and today I am here.

I’m glad you are, too.

Had I left this day a year ago, I wouldn’t have gotten married. I wouldn’t have said no to the PhD program. I wouldn’t have had the pleasure and experience of working in one of the coolest bakeries around. I wouldn’t have seen my daughter turn 10 or my son make music, drawings, and hear his jokes. I wouldn’t have started working as a BA. I wouldn’t be approaching a whole slew of opportunities at present if I wasn’t here.

Living is exhausting sometimes, but in the end, it’s worth it. You only get one shot at life. And it’s totally okay to fuck it up a little bit…. or a lot a bit in some cases…. because you can always get help and come back stronger.

If you’re struggling today or tomorrow or any day, just know that help is out there for you. There’s support out there for you. I may not know you – but I’m pulling for you. Everyone has something to offer this world and I would hate for the world to miss out on your gifts.

Thanks for stopping by.

I am glad you exist.