Saturday, September 19, 2009

Crying Uncle

I'm neglecting my blog. Between work and school and my family, there just aren't enough hours in the day. And, in all honesty, things have been rough here. I'm having a difficult time dealing with all the changes we've had. More difficult than I would like to admit. I've been angry and bitter and pretty unpleasant to be around. It's taking all the energy I have to just get through my day to day life without completely freaking out on someone.

How's that for a cheerful opening?

Anyway, I've given up trying to talk myself into being happy for all the good things in our life. Not that I'm not thankful. I am. I believe we are, and have been, lucky. We're together, we're not hungry, or homeless, or unhealthy. One of us is working, we have an income.

I'm just not happy. And I'm tired of being unhappy.

It seems so ungrateful and whiny to say that. And while I have no problem sounding ungrateful and whiny to the people who know me really well (and still love me anyway), I have a hard time announcing it to the world. Thus the sporadic blogging.

You see, I have this issue. Well, I have several, but this is the one I'd like to address today: I am at heart a crabby pessimist who really, really wants to be a hippy-happy optimist. I strive to be peaceful and kind and content in all aspects of my life, at all times. And, at times (like now), I fall woefully short. How I want to live my life and how I actually manage to live it aren't always the same. Which, as you would imagine, creates struggle and conflict and unease and anxiety and all of that kind of crap. I'm being pulled apart right now, and it fucking sucks.

I do truly believe that everything will always work itself out, that life is generally good, that people are generally wonderful. But there's always this little snarky piece of me that thinks the exact opposite. With all that has been happening in our lives lately, I've been fighting to feel and live the way I want to - happy and content and grateful - but the angry pessimist deep down in my core is having a field day right now, and I'm losing the whole happiness battle.

I realize now that I have been totally wrapped up in trying to look on the bright side, and in having a really hard time finding it. I've finally decided to accept the fact that when things don't turn out the way you've planned, it really is OK to be disappointed. And sad. And maybe to feel a little pathetic and sorry for yourself.

Maybe if I would have let myself feel that way a couple of months ago, I wouldn't be feeling like I am now. Like I'm about to shatter into a million pieces.

I'm tired of bursting into tears at any random moment. I'm tired of repeating my little mantras of happiness, of making myself listen to happy music, of trying to feel something I'm just not feeling. So last week, I gave myself permission to wallow in the negative. And to seek therapy.

I feel like maybe I'm finally starting to get a handle on things again. Not that everything is suddenly OK again, it's just that now there's a sense of relief. Relief to let go for a while, relief that I'm getting a little professional advice.

A few nights ago M1, C and I went to the Arizona Fall Frenzy* to see Gaven Rossdale (remember Bush?), the B-52's, Jason Mraz and Rob Thomas. Which I've been looking forward to for months, by the way. I'm watching Jason Mraz put on this awesome show, so full of happiness and excitement, and I'm singing/screaming "EVERY LITTLE THING IS GONNA BE ALRIGHT"** out into the world along with a bazillion other people. And I'm feeling that concert high - you know, out with your friends,*** surrounded by people who are happy and having a good time, listening to this great music.

And it finally clicked a teeny tiny bit. I've lost focus of what's important to me. I've been trying to figure out how to do it all - work full time, go to school, get into nursing school, home school BW, to still do all that and be a good mother and a good wife and a good friend. And you know what? I can't do it. Some people can, maybe I should be able to do it, but I can't. I've known that for a while now, but I've been refusing to face it. I didn't want to give anything up.

Obviously some things have got to change. I'm just not sure exactly what yet. I'm working on that part. Working on deciding what's really, really important to me, what I can put off for a while. Working on letting go and getting back my life. Maybe not exactly the way I want it to be, but close.

On a completely unrelated side note - the B-52's were awesome, but those JumboTron thingies? Not kind to older bands. There was a lot of "Wow! They're getting OLD!" comments in the audience, which I found hilarious. Hellooo! So are we, fans! Those of us there to see the B-52's? We listened to them in high school and college. Remember? About 20 or 30 years ago? Rock Lobster? Came out in the frickin' SEVENTIES. I know! It was ten years old when I started listening to it.****


*While I know that September 18th is technically Fall, this is Phoenix. It was effin' hot. Like, people are dropping over and medics are being called, hot. It's almost as brilliant as scheduling Lollapalooza in the summer. Who plans these things? Have they not heard that we live in a desert?

**Because, YAY! Jason did a Bob Marley cover!!

***The only thing that could have made the moment more perfect was having M2 there. And having Jason Mraz sign my boobs.

****It was a tiny bit devastating to realize I didn't 'discover' the B-52's after all. Damn. The seventies!

Sunday, September 6, 2009

A New Car*

Our game plan was to pay a big chunk to our van payment so we won't have payments for six months, and then get a new car with a lower payment after the first of the year. Because paying it off in full? Not happening. Need the money to live off of.

So, I sent off a check, and I filled the tank with gas** and wouldn't you know it? It starts making weird noises and going KA-THUNK periodically when I hit the gas. It kinded of sounded like the tranny was going to drop out when I hit the gas. Or what I imagine it might sound like, anyway. I'm not sure if that can even really happen or not, but I do know tranny's falling out of moving cars are never a good thing. No matter how you choose to define the word 'tranny' in that sentence.

In reading over that paragraph, I'm picturing a tranny in my passenger seat yelling KA-THUNK whenever I hit the gas. Just trying to bring you all in, get us all on the same page.

Anyway, back on topic. I tell MM that maybe we should look at cars this weekend because we sure as hell can't afford to sink even more money into this van. It's got a million miles on it, the gas mileage isn't the best, and since we have a few more years left to pay on it.... I'm thinking, maybe we'll find something good with all the Labor Day sales. And we did! I am the proud new owner of a used Toyota Prius.

I love it. She's light green and it feels like I'm driving (flying?) a space ship. And she's all fancy - back up camera, GPS, leather, nice sound system.*** Which are all a bunch of things I really don't need, I know. What sold me is seeing the stains in my light tan cloth interiored van. Never again. We are a messy family. We spill rather frequently. Dark colored leather interior makes for much easier cleaning.

I'm justifying the extra unneeded fanciness by this - the payment is still lower than what I'm currently paying for my van. I'll save a ton of money on gas. And I'll be driving this car for the rest of my life, so I'd better like it. And also, I am a terrible backer-upper. The camera really does make my life easier.

I went straight from the dealer to show it off to my mama, and then off to pick up M1 and head for IKEA. We previously sold BW's bedroom set and I needed to get him a new one.

M1 and I managed to fit the boxes for a loft bed (twin), computer desk, dresser, canvas tower storage thingymabob, a 5x7 rug, and assorted odds and ends (sheets, small lamp, chair, tupperwear set, etc) in the Prius. It was like a clown car, only instead of clowns it was filled with IKEA products. Which, seriously? Way better than clowns.

So I get home, MM and I unload all the stuff and bring it upstairs, and I go to bed. MM starts putting things together and at midnight I get woken up with, "MOMMY!!! Get UP! We need to take Daddy to the HOSPITAL!!!!! He BROKE HIS FOOT!!!"

Good. Lord. It never ends.

I'm still not clear on how it happened, but some drawer slid out of something and landed on MM's big toe. And he thinks it may be broken. And I'm all, "Hey, there's a bottle of percocet in the medicine cabinet and my crutches are over there in the corner. Aren't you glad I had foot surgery a few weeks ago? And, oh yeah, I'll be sure to take just as good care of you as you did of me."****

And then I went back to sleep.

What does one do for a broken toe? He broke his finger last year, and they put one of those little splints on it and that was that. And I actually doubt it's broken, because he can kind of bend it. Not paying a co-pay for a digit that still bends, folks.*****

Today he's managed to hobble around on it all morning, finishing up putting together all our IKEA booty. I'm thinking an ER trip is unnecessary.

The bad part is, I almost forgot to mention the broken body part after all the excitement of telling you about my Prius/IKEA trip. I know, I know. I'm such a good wife. Any man would be lucky to have me.


*Say it like I am in my head - like Rod Roddy on The Price Is Right. It's much more fun that way. Everything is more fun when you say it like a game show announcer. Trust me on this.

**Wouldn't you know it? Every time a car I own gets wrecked or sold, it has a full tank of gas. Every stinkin' time. Sixty bucks wooshed down the drain. And they thought I was joking when I asked if I could siphon the tank. WTF?

***So yeah, I'm blasting Jason Mraz (because that's basically all I'm listening to right now) and my baby is thumpin'. I never even realized what I was missing in the van. I never even realized there was a thumpy part to Dynamo of Volition.

****MM is terrible at taking care of me when I'm hurt or sick. It's always nice to return the favor.

*****MM has killed all the sympathy I once had for him when he's in pain. It's his own fault, really. I can't be blamed for this.