joeyfullystated

SoCS – Exposed

Posted on April 27, 2019 by joey

It’s been eight-and-a-half years since I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder. In all the time I’ve been aware of having anxiety disorder, I have been a careful student of its manifestations. What I know is that when I tell myself some physical symptom is just anxiety often enough and long enough, my anxiety stops bothering me about that particular and switches to another.

It’s been thirteen years and a month since I was diagnosed with OCD. I’ve long since gotten the promotion to OCD tendencies. I’m still super good at obsessing, but less with interference into my daily life. When I was a youth, people called it dwelling. Dwelling sounds nicer, reminiscent of thatched roofs and chipped paned windows, but it’s more like being locked in. Stuck.

I have stopped obsessively cleaning. I stopped that in 2012. As far as I’m concerned that’s one of my greatest accomplishments. There’s a whole mess, haha mess, of words there, but that’s not where we’re going.

Motherhood keeps me leaning over the hole looking in. Also not where we’re going, but worth mentioning.

I know, as well as any of you, that the thoughts in my head are irrational, but that isn’t enough to stop me from having them, although most often it’s enough to stop me from acting on them.

Car crashes do happen every day.
People do get abducted.
Houses do burn down.

If I never leave the house and never let my kids leave the house and none of us ever ride in a car, how much life can we live? So like, we buy insurance and give the kids phones and don’t leave hot things plugged in after use. Space heater, iron, hot tools. I don’t run the dryer when I’m not home. I don’t bake stuff in my oven all day while I’m gone. Crock pot? Hell no.

I have never failed to secure the hot things in my home. Not once. I’ve turned around more times than I can count and I’ve never failed. I’ve driven back to work to make sure I unplugged my space heater. I’ve even texted my boss to ask her to check! I’ve driven back home to assure myself that no one left any hot danger. Not once have I found hot danger. It’s irrational.

Do not use your logic to remind me there’s electricity running through every wall in my house or that there are flames in the furnace and the water heater, or that I live in a wooded area or that lightning can start a fire, cause I know, okay, but I don’t obsess about any of that.

what if moo left the kettle on? or her oatmeal pot? did she have the iron out this morning? did i unplug my straightening iron? omg, did sassy straighten her hair in the main bath? think, joey, was her hair straight this morning? well you’re going to have to go back. well that’s just stupid, isn’t it? do you really want to make that merge onto the ramp AGAIN? have you ever found anything on, ever? no. then why must you check? because obsessing. must relieve obsession. anxiety paralyzing. could happen. is possible.

I HAVE FORGOTTEN SOMETHING. SOMETHING BAD WILL HAPPEN.

So, like Rachel and the crazy fire/flood/baby/bird story, I recently did a very good job at checking all the hot things in the house (supportive ritual occurs one time) and felt confident in my departure. And then I drove for about five minutes and began to wonder if I had replaced the batteries in the charger.

Anxiety couldn’t fucking let me win one, could it? No. I said NO. I said to myself if the kitten has batted loose batteries off the counter and they then ran into errant silverware on the floor and started a fucking fire, well so be it, because i never liked that tile anyway.

I mean — What are the odds? Isn’t that right up there with fire/flood/baby/bird? I think so.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘exp’ is brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Personally | Tagged anxiety, anxiety disorder, anxiety symptoms, lifestyle, mental-health, parenting, SOCS | 80 Comments

#ThursdayDoors — Good Intentions

Posted on April 25, 2019 by joey

If I only had a door…

Okay, I have a lot of doors. I may even have hordes of doors, as I have been hoarding them, because

If I only had the time…

Well I just don’t. I mean, we all get the same amount of time in each day, but I’ve been working over a lot, some because work is crazed and some because I have been out for appointments, and if you can imagine, while I’m off seeing doctors or hauling kids to doctors, no one does my work.

Every day, Moo tells me stories and Sassy spills the tea. Can’t miss that stuff.
I must affectionate my beloved, the children, and the animals.

Bitches gotta eat, and sometimes they gotta cook. If there’s enough goin on, a bitch may even have to do dishes. Sometimes a bitch does a random chore a day. Sometimes people come to our house. Sometimes they just drop by, like a bitch ain’t even tryina chill on her sofa with some grilled cheese and a crime drama. I sometimes choose to read. Sometimes choose to read blogs.

I try to squeeze in some exercise, with fresh air if I can, because tryina stay baby hippopotamus size so I may live longer, as livin longer will increase the opportunity to consume more ice cream.

Then there are things I want to do, like paint my nails or write a letter to a friend. Prolly just leave nail polish on my side table for two weeks and carry the pretty card around in my bag for a month.
*has a whole drawer of fings for Orb*
*has a fing on the bookshelf for Benson*
*has a card in her bag for True*
Will she mail them? Will she?

My friends and extended family don’t get my attention much. I mailed my mother a note in a pretty card, put a photo of her granddaughter it, and when she got it, she was so happy, she acted like I had given her another grandchild. Clearly I have neglected my mother.

I see memes on social media about how we’re never too busy to make time for the people who are truly important and I think oh shit, that might be about me and then I think I don’t even make enough time for myself, so if it’s about me, they gonna hafta let it go, like I test the stretch of my green trousers because pad Thai is better than yoga, like I let my right eyebrow grow under my hair like a psychotic centipede, like how I am overdue for my blood panel.

Unfortunately, adult responsibilities enter the time zone as well. No one wants to do things or or deal with things or make phone calls about things but there’s important shit ya just gotta do. For me, it’s about 95% first world problems, 4% actual problems, and 1% whiny bitch wishes she was a more powerful witch who could replicate herself so that at least one of her could just enjoy one fucking moment of peace.

Om.
There must always be Om.

People be all, Jesus Take The Wheel, and I’m over here like, “ANYONE, take the list!” Fortunately, The Mister does sometimes take the list. Heart-heart-gush-gush.

It seems I can only do two to three, maybe four of the non-essential things per evening. Except on Friday. On Friday, I can do most things? Fridays are magical.

Many nights, I just want my comfies, my bed, my husband, and some tv. My happy place is rubbing my feet across the quilt while I rest in the crook of The Mister’s arm, my head on his chest. Cue the sleep. Mmm, sleeeeeeeep. Have I mentioned I’m a much better sleeper these days?

I cannot seem to get up earlier to link a blog post. I can get up early on the weekend, which I do NOT understand, and which I recognize may signify I’ve reached adulthood, but there is nothin, I mean nothin that can get me out of bed one moment earlier. One day, I got ready faster and I was pissed, because I could have stayed in my bed another seven minutes.

This month has been so busy, that when I saw Earth Day in my social media feeds, I was all, they must do it earlier in europe… and then I realized …yeah, five to seven hours earlier, holy crap it’s almost may!

How we got here, I dunno. I feel like there was a lotta typin and drivin? Non? Two months without doors. I swear, I’ve had the BEST of intentions.

park shed

dr’s office

tipsy trolley

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged lifestyle, Moo, Sassy, The Mister, Thursday Doors | 63 Comments

Until the Time of Drill

Posted on April 20, 2019 by joey

I kinda wanna nap. I figured I might blog since The Mister is watching Aquaman, which, as far as I can tell, has a run time of eight hours and endless minutes. The war will never end. And while unending war may be realistic, the part where Aquaman stops fighting to kiss the girl with the crimson hair is ridiculous. Men don’t stop to kiss during war. They don’t even stop to kiss during sporting events. Everyone knows men like most to kiss women while we are cooking or all dressed up, ready to walk out the door.

I got up before nine, which is stupid and probably why I wanna nap. We got coffee and my prescription (cause coffee don’t cure everything) and went to hardware store and then to Target to get our Bunneh on and then to get my other prescription (I’m okay, I promise) and then we went home to start the chili and then I seared us up some chicken thighs and mushrooms and made cheesy quinoa and warmed bread. OH, yeah, I might also want a nap because I’m full. Hm.

Anyway, the girls wanted their chicken removed from the bone. I don’t know why this is a thing. Do I seeeeeem like the kinda mom who will remove chicken from the bone for her teenagers? Someone else has raised the chicken, butchered the chicken, cleaned the chicken, delivered the chicken to the store, then I done bought it and cooked it, you would think eating it should be the easy part, but no.

Halfway through linner, Moo got up to get a soda (I already had a soda, Duh) and The Mister asked her for a soda and Sassy asked her for a soda, and verily, Moo came back with three cans of soda. The Mister made a sad face at Moo.

“You have to pour his into a glass with ice. He’s a pussy,” I said.
“Then he’ll have to take my chicken off the bone. We’ll be pussies together,” Moo said.
And thusly, her daddy did take her chicken off the bone.

It’s cold and rainy and windy here today. I like it. It’s doing a bit too much wind for the tender white tulips, but it’s fine for me.

Also, wanna see what my picked tulip’s up to?

Yes, that is a spider up there on the petal. I wasn’t wearing my specs when I took the shot. I bet that spider saw me just fine, what with his six eyes or whatever.

The Mister is doing hardware things. I hear a drill. I have to help. I always help.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged lifestyle, marriage, Moo, nature, parenting, The Mister | 39 Comments

It Is Good

Posted on April 19, 2019 by joey

I picked my first tulip yesterday. And then I photographed it. And I posted it for the prompt of the day was pink. And it was GOOD.

I know, right? Even I put my link on the stem. So proud. S’mine. I did that.

You know what else I did this week? Worked my ass off. (Ass photo unavailable)

I do like this: I get out of bed ever-so-reluctantly, I wrangle the octopus on my head, put on cute shoes, and sing all the way to work.

What I’m listening to this week:

Over and over. I need my spleen to rattle. Also, there’s some deep shit in there. It is good.

Then I get out of my car and I give myself this pep talk, like I am a supastah

k joey, go in there and do your very best to work the work and you will get the work done

And I do, indeed, get the work done. Not all at once and new post-its replace the old post-its and it is good. I’m thinkin bout gettin some cutesy patterned stickies. Fun is good. Take it and make it when and where you can.

The Mister gets today off because Wall Street and Jesus. It is a Good Friday for him.

Because Love of Joey, he will do two loads of laundry and go to the goddamned grocery store. Also good.

Tell you what is not good?
What the hell for?
Y’all got enough of that, yeah?

Shh, put your headphones in and let yo spleen rattle.

Happy Friday Everyone! Make it good!

Posted in Uncategorized | 60 Comments

SoCS — Lip Tulip

Posted on April 13, 2019 by joey

This is the time of year when I pull into my driveway all smiley because the tulips are coming up.

Although, the other day, I pulled in and my daughter’s boyfriend was parked in the drive which distracted me from my tulips. Apparently he was mortified, while I tee-hee-hee’d. He couldn’t back his tiny car out of our enormous drive with me alongside him so I had to completely back out and turn into the street in front of my neighbor’s house so that he could get out. He should maybe bring her home more often — he can get more practice backing out, they can have lip-to-lip time, and I can avoid the carline — it’d be good for everyone, see?

Anyway, off lips to tulips:

Most of them aren’t open yet, but the white ones have been up and open about a week now. By the time we clear the brown and gray from the lawn, all the colors will have opened and they’ll be at the height of their blooms.

tulips

I love tulips so very much. I plant more every year. They are my favorite flower.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘lip’ is brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged lifestyle, nature, parenting, SOCS | 55 Comments

Yeah, I Lift, Bro. I Lift People Up.

Posted on April 12, 2019 by joey

I live with people who lift. They say things like…

I don’t fuckin know what they say. Some of them don’t parle croissant or habla taco, and I don’t speak lift.
“Say things about weightlifting.”
“Like what?”
“Say the words I don’t know because I don’t know and I can’t think of any.”
“Today I power cleaned and hang cleaned and strict pressed and benched and did kettle bell rows.”
“I dead lifted and did shoulder rows.”
“Yesterday we did Russian twists and shoulder shrugs.”
“Yeah.”
“And close-grip lat pull downs.”
“I did supine pull-ups.”

And I’m like “Kettle? These salt and vinegar kettle chips are so crunchy!” Oh yeah, sometimes while they lift, I swim or walk on the treadmill, and sometimes I’ll even use the nautilus equipment cause I am a little middle-aged white woman who wants to keep her original bones, but then I go home and seriously, I try NOT to lift things. I like to feel light and buoyant.

Is the crushing weight of the world not heavy enough?
I have heard the lifters say they have to lift more because they didn’t feel any pain.
Who the fuck are these people?

For those of you who know me, I would rather run than lift weights. And for those who do not know me, I only run when it’s imperative, like chasing and tackling a toddler before she reaches the street, like running and sliding into the back door to prevent the kitten escaping. Occasionally, I find I am running on accident, because I’m having fun playing, but all these times are rare and short.

I also live with runners. They say, “I ran X kilometers,” and since I don’t understand running or kilometers, I say, “I typed about that long.”

I walk fast. If I need to get there faster than I walk, I drive, okay?

Running makes my heart beat too fast, triggering anxiety. It makes me sweat and my rosacea flares and my boobs hit one another and there’s chaffing and I get thirsty and then I have to wash my hair. No, thank you.

Furthermore, I drink Gatorade only when I am ill.

Remember when you were a kid and your mom took you somewhere to get something special and you asked, “How many can I get?”
Yeah. My kids, Gatorade, every time we go.

I recently got a damn tetanus shot. The Tdap. Yay, cause don’t nobody want diseases that kill us, but also, boo, cause those damn things hurt. I don’t mean the tiny poke of ow with the injection, but the hard, tender bump after. Oh that doesn’t happen to you? How nice. In case you have not, as of yet, figured out how special I am, IF THERE IS A REACTION TO A THING, I WILL HAVE IT.

Living in my body be like this:
For Other People “May cause…”
For Me “You gonna have…”

I’m just glad I’m not in the group that can’t have the vaccine.

It didn’t hurt right away, which made me think they maybe make kinder shots now. The following day, the tenderness inflamed and I made Mentor feel my bump. Then I made my kids feel it. All three ladies gently slid their hands over the bump and made the same surprised-sad face when they felt it.

When The Mister got home, I made him feel my bump and HE PRESSED INTO IT and said he felt nothing.
It should be noted that Moo and I could actually see the bump through my cardigan, but The Mister couldn’t feel it.

So later, when the lifters were showing off their big muscles, I slid my hand across The Mister’s bicep and I said, “I don’t feel anything.”
Happy Friday Everyone!

Posted in Personally | Tagged anxiety, lifestyle, marriage, mental-health, parenting | 66 Comments

I Could Never Be a Breck Girl

Posted on April 9, 2019 by joey

Oh that was such a Tuesday. Good mercy.

This weather though! Windows open at night, warm sun on my face in the day! Ooher! Slept like a baby last night, 8 solid hours. Woke up tired. How tired? I drank a cup of actual caffeinated coffee.

Work just be mayhem. People quietly clicking and typing and getting papercuts like whoa.

Been tough times on my upper extremities lately. Overextended my right thumb trying to open a box, got two papercuts, tore a cuticle on a cutting board, slept wrong and got a crick in my right shoulder — then some Paul Bunyan-lookin mofo came into the office and shook my hand like he was so pleased to meet me, he’d planned to take my arm with him when he left! When all that was healed, the doctor gave me a tetanus shot in the left.

Today my hair is somethin you’d see in a shampoo commercial from the 70s and I’m the Before girl who can’t get a job or a date or whatever, because is it straight? is it wavy? is it curly? kinky? big? flat? frizzy? Yes, all.

I picked up my kid at six and said, “Ya know what I like?”
“Hmm?”
“Home.”
And I did not pass go and I did not go to the gym or the park and you couldn’t convince me to, either. Even if you have big brown eyes and fluffy ears and you have indeed been a very good girl all day. Mama no walkies. Mama sit.

Now, SHE could be a Breck Girl.

I had to go home and put on my pajamas and read blogs and wait for my husband to bring me a foods. Three waffles, three eggs scrambled, three bacons, and four strawberries. Yes, you read that right. (Okay, so I gave Sadie the floppy bacon bits, but don’t tell The Mister. He cooks on Tuesdays now, and we don’t wanna muck that up!)

How’s your weather? Whatcha been eatin? What’s up with your hair? How’s work?

Posted in Personally | Tagged food, lifestyle, The Mister | 58 Comments

SoCS – Fabulously Frittered Day

Posted on April 7, 2019 by joey

Typing quicky now, almost midnight, need some blogging in my day.

We just finished the vanilla milkshakes I made. I’ve got dinner going. It’s toasty grilled cheese in the oven and tomato soup on the range. Everyone’s pretty hyped about it.

The Mister and I had the laziest day two people ever had. I got up around 8 and made some omelets — mushroom, Swiss, and chive. I took them to bed and we watched shows and ate omelets. We talked about doing things. We did. It was a beautiful day. We just couldn’t bring ourselves to DO anything. We had no idea we were so tired. I kept falling asleep on The Mister and then that put him to sleep and so we had three naps today. Three naps. We rose for some laundry and chips and salsa, but mostly we were dowwwn.

Bubba went to a cookout thingy and I don’t know what the girls did, but they weren’t out and about.

We finally decided that we’d go get some groceries to avoid doing it Sunday. At like 9pm we decided this. And then, because the store was so empty of people, we sorta leisurely shopped and talked and made googly eyes and that was quite nice for grocery shopping.

that’s the mister down there

It was a fab day. Frittered away a sunny day and don’t even care because it was simply fabulous to snuggle one another, the kids and the pets, to watch shows, to play games, to nap — apparently we needed it.

cletus loves beds

Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘fab’ is brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged food, gratitude, happiness, lifestyle, SOCS, The Mister | 42 Comments

When You Need Jesus

Posted on April 5, 2019 by joey

Remember, this is NOT A Nice Lady Blog.

As a pagan heathen Unitarian Universalist, I have not as of yet found that I need Jesus, but I know the need for Jesus is real and true, because I have friends who talk about it. We’re good with it. They’re like, “I’m takin communion,” and I’m like “I’m takin in the trees,” and we’re mutually pleased for one another.

I believe I mentioned that work has been crazed lately?

I walked into Mentor’s office the other day and rather unusually she was listening to music.
“What are you listening to?” I asked.
“Jesus! Cause I need it!”

I left Mentor to her… (I don’t know what to call that.) Partially out of respect that she needed a clearer head or calmer spirit or whatever, but also because I couldn’t help but laugh, because —

Well it’s not Jesus, is it? I mean, it might be a song about Jesus, but it’s not a literal recording of Jesus. I wonder if Jesus sang well? Imagine people on iTunes waiting for Jesus to drop his new single. Imagine people camping out waiting for Jesus tickets. Y’all know I love the Beatles, but I do think Jesus would outsell them. The crying and fainting would be a public health concern.

Can you imagine the songs Jesus would sing? WELL I CAN. I have noted that a lot of rap and country titles would work for Jesus. As you know, Jesus spent a great deal of time with the poor and at least one ho.
Anyway, on this fair Friday I must share this song, which in our house is called, “Ghetto Jesus” because one time Sassy asked for it and we knew exactly what song she meant.