Friday, September 27, 2013

One week later.

Today my doctor suggested I write. I haven't told him that I have a blog. Still, I figured I'd take his advice. He seems pretty smart and has an almost contagious bubble of "calm" around him. I'm envious of it. I long for it. I want to ask him if he's always been that way, or if he learned to become that way. I don't though because we're there to talk about me, not him.

In the past week I've managed to become broke ( again ), and sick. Both of which suck and don't get me any closer to a bubble of calm. I had a physical on Monday and my doctor ordered a (shit) load of blood work. Of course, I immediately got sick walking out of the office, so I still have that part to look forward to. Needles. They aren't my favorite. I could never be the kind of drug addict that shoots crap into their veins. I guess that's a good thing. 

She also increased my dose of Celexa. The Celexa I haven't been taking. So now I have to decide if I'm going back on it or not. On Monday I was sure I should. Now it's Friday and I'm not sure of anything. Typical. 

I still have done nothing in reference to my mother. It feels like its lingering, and yet when I start to think of how to proceed I get overwhelmed with thoughts and anger, so I shelf it. The problem is that if I don't address it soon, I never will. I will place it neatly in that box full of people, places, and things that I have, in a sense, turned my back on. Once it's in the box, that's pretty much it. No taking it back out. No do overs. So, soon, just not right now. 

My sixth sense seems to be kicking in and telling me something is wrong. I used to refer to this as a "shift". Something has shifted. Something is different. Something has changed. Only, I don't know what. Unfortunately that does little to stop the chaos it's creating within my nervous system. I suppose a normal person might say I'm just crazy, and they might be right, only not about this. I know this feeling well and it never fails to follow through. 

And lastly, because I'm such a Debbie Downer, ( I blame the sickness, pms, and the fact that I am most likely crazy) some good news: I joined Netflix. It is the most fabulous thing I've done in, well, forever. I know it sounds rather unimportant and I'm light years behind the rest of the world,as usual, but this was life changing. I spend most of my day, sitting and painting. Mindlessly painting. Which leaves my mind free to wander into very dangerous places, because it can't just sit there and relax. It needs to be busy. Always busy. And keeping it busy, and filling it up. Sure, some of it is garbage, but I love it. Movies are second only to Books, in my life. 

And in even better news, ( I guess this is really lastly now) despite my own recent crash and burn, my son is doing amazing! We had zero school anxiety all week. He's had a few hiccups but has been able to work them out on his own and has actually shown excitement about going to school. He's still being his perfectionist/ocd little self and insists he needs a new binder because all of his three rings don't line up perfectly, but so long as he's insisting it with a smile on his face, I'm happy. We also got his MCAS scores back from last year and he scored Advanced in Mathematics. Very proud. (He is, however, driving me nuts right now because he's monologing about some Star Wars lego game he is playing.) 

And that, as they say, is that. Until next time...

Thursday, September 19, 2013


I'm just recently (as in an hour or so ago) recovering from a complete meltdown of sorts. Full on panic, dread, doom, numbness, dizziness, shortness of breath, tears, and the feeling of wanting to be out of my own skin. It's a feeling that is so hard to describe, so that anyone who has never experienced it, could actually get an idea as to what it is like. Saying it is awful isn't enough. Saying you start bargaining immediately to make it go away isn't enough. I will quit smoking. I will take better care of myself. I'll go back on Celexa. I'll do yoga. I'll meditate. I usually wind up being mad at myself. Angry that my brain is in control. Angry that I can't control my brain. Long story short. I took an Ativan and a long hot shower and it has subsided. Just like that. As quickly as it came. This particular attack wasn't unexpected. I'd been waiting for it. I knew it was coming and as I sit here now, feeling somewhat okay, I know there will be more.

The latest and the greatest in the Parental visit saga is that they are safe and sound now back in Las Vegas. As it should be. The whole two weeks was emotionally draining and extremely nerve wracking, and the night before they were leaving the Time Bomb that is mother went off. Boom. If you knew my mother you would know a few very basic things about her. You would know that she is loud. Not only loud but abrasive. Like an S.O.S. pad only less soapy. She talks a lot. She's a bit selfish and only knows how to "give" by using money. She is bossy and she contradicts herself constantly. Sometimes within minutes. I'm not sure why that is. I'm not sure why any of it is. But it is. I had learned over the years that it was safest to mostly sit back and shut up, but if you know anything about me, it's that I don't always do what is safest. I also tend to zoom in on the details, and if there is a contradiction, I will be drawn to it like a magnet.

On the day before they were leaving we had a phone conversation that was basically to set up a time for them to come over that night to say goodbye. (Originally they were planning on another Auction night but had decided not to go. I won't lie. The fact that visiting with us was an option and not a definite was a confirmation that felt like shit.) Anyway, I thought they could come over and visit with Jack after he got home school, then maybe we could order take out. NO. No? No we don't want to eat anymore food. Ever?? Weird. Anyway. Her first plan was they would come over after Jack did his homework around 4:00. Okay. BUT, they have to print out their boarding passes at exactly 5:00pm. Exactly?  Yes not a minute later. At this point it dawns on me, I need ink for my printer, so I say I will go out and get ink for my printer. NO. No? NO. We'll just come back here and print them. My mind is calculating, which sucks because I hate math...but...basically that means they will visit for a half hour. On the night before they leave. Breathe. I'm getting a little annoyed by this point. The refusal to eat with us. The insistence on printing the boarding passes, and I realize that if they had gone to the auction as originally planned there would have been no printing of the damn boarding passes until they had returned home. In my mind I'm thinking so why not just come and stay longer, you're going to have to eat at some point, and print them when you get back to my Aunts. Boom!  BOOM!!!


She exploded. Like a stick of dynamite. Looking back, I think it was the fact that I pointed out the boarding pass situation. How she wouldn't have been able to print them if she had stuck to her original plans, so why is it so important that she do it now? (In my heart of hearts I think I know why. She didn't really want to come to my house and any excuse to shorten the trip was usable) In any case, she yelled and she screamed. I could barely get a word in edge wise. I'm sure my Aunt and my Father who had to have been close by listening were confused as to what the hell I might be yelling about on the other end of the line. Only I wasn't yelling. Except for once. To tell her to stop yelling at me and that I wasn't going to fight with her. I never raised my voice prior. I simply said something she didn't like. Something that exposed her motives. I hardly remember all the words she said during her tirade except when she accused me of being selfish and wanting everything to go my way. Irony? Or just plain sickness? I think I might have laughed then because it was so completely ridiculous I could hardly wrap my brain around it. She said a few more things that made about just as much sense  and then she handed the phone to my father. We both just sat there like...hey. Hey. Neither of us sure what to do with any of it. After about a minute she calmed down a little and said they would come over after they printed their boarding passes, so a little after five. After I hung up my head was literally spinning. What the fuck just happened?

As crazy and unpredictable as her outburst was, it was nothing I hadn't experienced in the past. I think that maybe I might have thought this kind of behavior was over. Done. That it used to happen, but it doesn't happen anymore. Needless to say, my brain linked on to the pattern, and the floodgates of my memory opened wide. It wasn't pretty and I'm still having a damn hard time shutting the door.

But as if that unwelcome drama wasn't enough... there is more. The icing on the cake so to speak. After winding down from the phone call I pretty much went about my day. Jack came home and did his homework. I told him Grandma and Grandpa were coming for one last visit tonight. He got excited and started picking out all the things he wanted to show them but forgot to show them the one time they came before. BF came home from work. Because I kept getting a very loud NO regarding eating with us, I ordered take out for us three only. And we waited. When are they coming? Are they here yet? Didn't they say a little after 5? 

At 6:30 I pick up my phone and call. My mother answers. Hello?  Hi. Are you guys coming?  NO. No we're not. We talked about it and we're not. Wait. What!?  My mind is a little bit blown by this point but I manage to ask the question. "Were you going to call me and let me know?"  To which she answered. "No, I wasn't."  I had to ask again."Okay. Wait. You decided you weren't coming to say goodbye and you weren't even going to call and let me know?"  No. No I wasn't.  She started saying something else here, but I simply said "Goodbye." and hung up. Then I kicked a bucket that was in my driveway clear across to other side.

Again, my head is spinning. My son is asking are they coming. No, they aren't coming. Why??  Did you call them? Call them again. Tell them I want them to. My hands are shaking as I send one last text message to my mother letting her know that her grandson had been waiting since he got home from school to see them and basically that was one shitty move on her part. How do I explain to my son why they aren't coming when I don't even fully understand it myself?  I now feel guilty. I feel like, because they don't want to spend time with me, I'm cheating him out of Grandparents. I dismiss this thought immediately. Fuck them. They should feel guilty. I tell him the truth. Not as harshly as I do here. I tell him that sometimes people don't do what they say they are going to do and we get disappointed. Sometimes we know the reason why, but somethimes we just don't.

That night was a sleepless one for me, with my own life movie playing on the screens behind my eyes. I wasn't dwelling. It was on automatic play. Like experiences attract like memories. They don't play like movies for everyone, but they do for me, and what I saw I didn't like.  It was a fact facing night of finally accepting that they (my mother in particular, because my dad does nothing on his own) aren't good for me. They are hazardous to my health. By the time I went to sleep I had convinced myself that there wouldn't be anymore contact. That I had to shut them out completely.  I'm not sure what I think now. I'm still processing.

The next morning I received a text message claiming to "just be getting your message now". There was an apology and an I don't know what happened.  A second message came through right after saying they'd like to see me, either at my aunts or at my house, and that they were leaving for the airport at 1pm. I didn't respond.  Instead, I shutdown, grabbed my new CD and headed out. I went to breakfast alone, I went shopping at few places, I drove around, got a coffee, had lunch, and was sure to return home after 1pm. It was actually a good anxiety free few hours.

Later that night I got a call and let it go to voice mail.  In listening to message, I felt like Alice in Wonderland. Nothing made sense. Her voice was small and quiet, almost childlike, and her words were soft, somewhat matter of fact, with a We Love You at the end. This message surely wasn't left by the same woman who just the day before couldn't have cared less.  I didn't call back. Instead I got angry again.

This afternoon I got an email from her. (This is where the above panic attack came in to play) I haven't even read it yet. Just seeing it in my inbox was enough to set me off. I definitely have no desire to speak to either of them right now. Maybe that will change. Or maybe I won't let myself get sucked in again, because it's too fucking much. I know she knows she was wrong. I know that's why she's playing all meek and mild and tossing out I love yous like they actually mean something. But it's not an excuse. It can't be an excuse anymore.  If someone attacks you physically, treats you like shit, and then tells you it's your fault, does a sorry make it okay? No, it doesn't. So it shouldn't be okay for someone to attack you like that verbally either.

This was a long ass post. I apologize. Mostly I wrote it for me. Also sorry for the all the bold and italics. And spelling?  I have a get out of jail free card for today.

Hope, who is going to get her money's worth out of therapy tomorrow.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Fall, my brain, and a little Poe.

Seems like fall has arrived this morning. Aside from the food and the beer, it is not my favorite season. Along with the cold, it brings dark mornings and dark evenings. Even on the days that the sun is shining you can tell how far away it is. It doesn't warm you. It doesn't shed the same kind of light. I definitely blossom in a climate that is warmer year round, but as that isn't a possibility for me anymore, I'll just try hard to focus on the food and the beer.

The last few weeks have been hard. They've been filled with drama, lies, selfishness, noise, disruptions to routine, tears, anger, doubt, confusion, misunderstandings, revelations, and last but certainly not least anxiety. I feel like I will need at least twice that amount of time to recover fully. The truth is I won't get much recovery time. Instead I will dive right back into busy, which is probably not the worst thing. Work has picked up quite a bit and I'm expecting it to be a crazy Holiday season. In addition to dolls, I've sold some art, which has inspired me to start making more. 

A friend sent me a text just a little while ago, and in the text she asked "How was the visit with Mom?" In true fashion, my Aspie-like brain (what we can call it until diagnosis) dove on to a track of racing thoughts. How do I answer that? Should I just say fine? That would be a lie. Is it just a polite question that doesn't require an in depth answer as to how it is really going? How would most people answer? It's going well. Having a good time! Smiley face. Smiley face. Smiley face. But that's a lie. If I say it's been shitty, I probably won't  get a response. People don't like to hear about shitty. There's really not enough time to get into this. 

And so on and so on and so on. 

A simple question that most people wouldn't think twice about, sends me into over analyzing and panic so I will say the right thing. So I won't say the wrong thing. And at the same time my brain is screaming at me because telling the polite social white lie makes my skin crawl. How are you? I'm fine, how are you? It makes me want to vomit. 

This is automatic. This is just how it is. This is one more reason why it's easier for me to be somewhat shut off, with limited contact. My brain just goes through much more processing than most people I know, and honestly it's exhausting. I'm exhausted.

So instead of any more updates today, I will leave you with this. One of my favorite Poems by one of my favorite Poets. It makes more sense now. I don't find it sad anymore.

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view. 

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Button Pushers

Button Pushers. We all know a few, don't we?  Those people that, for some reason, love to kick you when you're down. Maybe it's not always a kick. Maybe it's just a poke where you are the most tender. Or then again, maybe sometimes it feels like a knife. These are the same people that will swear up and down after they've done their damage, that "That's not what I meant" or my personal favorite..."You're being too sensitive." 

Fuck those people. Seriously. Fuck them.

I've been practicing a lot lately. At this whole acceptance thing. At doing nothing. I've practiced for a straight week with a few major speed bumps getting in my way. I'd give myself a B. Not an A. Definitely not an A because today, I am pissed off. Today I get to take a break, and instead of suppressing the anger and turning it inward, I'm going to let it out and allow myself to be really fucking mad.

I'm not going to focus on the speed bumps today. I can only handle one anger inducing topic at a time or seriously, my head will explode. I'm going to focus on the visit with my parents. If you can call it a visit. Tonight they will have been in town for a week. We've seen them for possibly eight hours. On one hand, this is probably a good thing, because if I can reach this point after only eight scattered hours, just imagine the kind of rage more time would induce. (A voice inside my head, we'll call said...but it wouldn't be like this if they were different. The other again...reminded her of what I already know....but you can't change people.)

Before they even got here I got a basic itinerary. A list of things my mother was definitely going to do. If I could or felt like joining her I would get to see her, if not, well... tough shit, because that is what she wanted to do, and my mother always does what she wants to do. My father, who has no itinerary, has basically just taken off everyday to do his own thing. Okay. Fine. I dealt with that. I'm no stranger to this type of behavior from her. This left some days/evenings free where maybe they could spend some time with their only grandchild and their only daughter.

So far this is what has happened...

(I apologize for the rambling. This is a "get it out" type of blog, so you are reading it just as it appears in my head.)

Every invite I've extended to go out to eat has been met with a no, because "they just can't be going out to eat everyday!" Meanwhile, they are going out to eat with my Aunt, who they are staying with, just about every day.

After making plans to come visit right after school last Thursday, my son and I show up to an empty house. An hour later I get a call saying they are on their way. They did bring pizza though. Pizza loaded with every topping that no nine year old boy in his right mind would ever eat. He scraped it off and ate pizza dough. He's a trooper.

They came bearing gifts because that's what grandparents do, right? They brought him a baseball glove. In case anyone doesn't know. My son doesn't play baseball. He doesn't like baseball. My BF and I got two t-shirts that were given to them by my grandparents in the 80's. No, I'm not kidding. If you know me I don't care about gifts. I really don't. What I do care about is the thought behind them.

Next, I invited them to a family event that happened on Saturday, which I thought would have been a perfect time to hang out, see other family members too, and possibly meet my BF's children. That was also met with a No.

The whole weekend that my child was home, not having to go to school,  his grandparents didn't see him once. They had plans. They were busy. Next weekend he is with his father. They knew this.

I called Sunday night. I reached voicemail.

Monday morning I got a phone call with a request to come over that night after Jack got out of school. "We were coming over anyway because remember you said you would spend time with Jack while I went to the open house at school?"  I said.  Apparently, they forgot.  This time I brought food so my son could eat something besides pizza dough. Our visiting consisted of Jack and I sitting in the Kitchen alone while my Dad said close to nothing, and my mother and aunt were "busy" doing things around her house. I watched and listened as my son tried to talk to his Grandma. Trying to tell her things he was excited about. I also watched and listened to her response. "Really? Okay, honey, now you have to get out of the way because we're moving this over here."  I watched and listened as my child, who has been so excited to see Grandma and Grandpa, told her he learned how to play Scat and brought cards, and did they think maybe later they could play?  I watched and listened as my mother, completely oblivious to anything outside her own selfishness told him no. "No, grandma doesn't feel up to that tonight. Maybe we can play if your mother ever invites us over." (Please refer back to my every invite being met with a no.) I bit my tongue during this whole experience. I practiced doing nothing. When I went to the open house Jack was watching a movie on my iPad. When I returned he was playing with a few Lego's alone in the kitchen. "Did you and Grandma and Grandpa do anything tonight?"  "Not really..."

This brings us to Tuesday, which was yesterday. Part of the Itinerary was an early Tuesday dinner (4pm) followed by an Antique Auction. (preview at 5pm, start time at 6:30pm) Both of these events occurring in the same town. Not exactly a child friendly activity, but this was our option so my son can see his grandparents and he was up for it. Okay. Jack gets home at 3:30 roughly. If we jump right in the car (no time for homework) and head out we can most likely make it there by 4pm. We did. We arrive to find my mother, father and my aunt sitting in a four person booth, that clearly my BF, my son and I won't fit into. "Oh we can squeeze in, just pull a chair up to the end."  To which the waitress informs us this is a fire hazard and we can't just pull a chair up to the end. Okay. So logically, (at least I think it was logically) I suggest we move and sit at a table with six chairs. Six people. Six chairs. Seems like it might work. My mother and my aunt exchange a look, to which my mother follows up with. "I don't know...what do think?" The fact that my head did not explode at that very moment is a pure fucking miracle. Are you fucking serious? Were we not invited to come join you for dinner? And you are not even willing to sit with us? I didn't say that exactly, though. I think I said something like, "We drove all the way here. If we're going to sit at a table by ourselves, we might as well just leave." I said nothing else, and that was the kick in the ass that got them up and moved to another table. Nothing else was mentioned and we proceeded to order. Beer. I desperately needed a beer. The rest was bullshit small talk that I paid little attention to. Mostly I talked to my son because, honestly he was the only one I felt like talking to. As dinner was wrapping up my mother then asks. "So...have you gone over how the auction works? Does he know how this is going to work?" I've told him the basics. I'm not worried. He's a well behaved which my mother continues with..."The auctioneer is grumpy. He gets real mean and really mad if anyone makes any noise. He'll even yell at people." I'm watching carefully as my son looks at me and I see it in his eyes. Fear. I try to counter what she is saying to ease his mind. Maybe it's true. I've been there before and never witnessed it. Regardless, there is no need for this. The look on her face. The tone of her voice. I'm talking to Jack, but inside I'm screaming at her. Shut the fuck up!  What are doing? He was excited to go. You don't purposely scare someone who suffers from anxiety. Especially not a child!  I don't say any of this. Instead I calmly say, "Stop. There is no reason to scare him." To which she responds, "Oh Jesus, you need to get him out his protective bubble." Mama Bear syndrome has now kicked in with me, but my head still doesn't explode and I'm still calm, and I simply say. "STOP." From here, the three of them get up while I'm still finishing my drink. Apparently it's a rush. They have to get there. They have to get seats. It's now about 5:05pm. Again, auction starts at 6:30pm. Same fucking town. Fine. Go...we'll meet you. We leave not too long after they do. Arrive at the preview,and look at all the items. Apparently there was nothing worth staying for and they decide they're going to go home. A big frantic fucking rush. For nothing. For fucking nothing. Game over.

Holy shit. My head is spinning at this point.

We then talk briefly about when they would come over to my house for dinner. I had already told them Wed or Friday would be best as the other nights can be crazy with kids and kid activities. My mother shot down Wed. It'll be too hot. (too hot for dinner?) Fine. Breath. "Friday, then?"  Again, they exchange the look. Something was said but I didn't quite hear it as they both started heading to the car. Something else was said about there being another Auction next Tues. (are you fucking kidding me?) To which I replied, "For the amount of time we spent with you, I don't think it's worth it."  I vaguely heard my mother yell, "Well come over to the house then." as we were crossing the street.

At this point I'm exhausted. Mentally exhausted. At this point I'm beginning to realize that doing nothing and acceptance isn't always enough. Sometimes when a person or people are too much, too hurtful, too selfish, or too toxic, your only option is to remove them. Forcing yourself to deal with them, on their terms, in their way can do more damage than just simply walking away.

We didn't go over to the house. Instead we stopped an got ice cream from Cherry Hill. We sat outside in the calm and the quiet, and laughed about what someone had carved into the picnic table.

I'm not sure what this next week will hold, but I am sure I'm not up for anymore button pushing. I'm not up for frantically chasing down people who so obviously have better things to do than spend time with me or their grandson. I'm not up for witnessing "the look", whether I know what it means or not. (I admit, I do not) I'm just not up for their kind of crazy. I think I'll just stick with mine.

Hope, who again, apologizes for the rambling and lack of order in this post. 

Friday, September 6, 2013

Old Dog. New Tricks.

I've taken a rather long hiatus from logging my thoughts and insanity. I don't know why I feel the need to state the obvious, but I do. So I did.

Work has picked up, which is both a good thing and a bad thing, but at least I have a purpose again. During my break I've done a lot of work. Internal work, as well as what I do for a living. I've done a lot of thinking which isn't at all out of the ordinary, but I've also done a lot to change some of my thinking, which is completely foreign to me. Somewhere in the midst of all of this "work" I stumbled upon the answer to all of my questions in my previous post. All of my "what do you do?" questions. The answer turned out to be pretty simple, and at the same time, to me it was almost a revelation. The answer is nothing. I do nothing. Simply because there is nothing I can do to change another persons feelings, actions, or behavior. Only they can do that, and only if it's something they actually want to do.

Simple, right? Everyone knows this to be true, and yet, it feels like I am just finally "getting it." I'm just now realizing that I don't have some kind of super human power to make things as I want them to be and to keep people just as I like them. At the same time, I also realized what I do have power over, and that is myself. I not only have the power over whether I allow other people to affect me or not, but I have freedom. Freedom to choose. Freedom to take care of me. Freedom to do what feels good.

Perhaps most people already know this. Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it too, but I never really knew it enough to allow myself to put it into practice. So that's what I'm doing now. I'm practicing. I'm practicing at just being me, and being okay with that, and doing what I need to do when I need to do it. I'm practicing at NOT giving more than I receive and not depleting my own resources.  And I'm doing it. Not always and not perfectly, but still, I'm doing it. So far so good.

My parents are in town for a couple of weeks right now, which is always somewhat bitter sweet. More bitter than sweet, but it's giving me a lot of opportunities for more "practice." They aren't staying with me, which turned out to be what was best for everyone. Basically now I will see them for a few hours here and there when they have a gap in their schedule and can squeeze Jack and I in. I won't lie, and say I'm completely fine with the way that is. It's taken me a lot of years, and a lot of struggling, and trying to use my imaginary super powers to make our relationship into something that is wasn't. Something that it was never going to be. I fought it. I resisted it. I tried to change it. And then finally, I accepted it. Now... I do nothing. Now, I finally realize there is nothing I can do, and I don't have to feel bad about it anymore. The truth is not all people connect. Not all families are close. Not everyone can really, really love each other. It could very well be different when the parent and child are biological, because I couldn't even imagine not being close to my son. It could be that blood really is thicker than water. But despite all of the possibilities, the fact remains that we are all strangers in a very fundamental way. If they weren't my parents and I wasn't their adopted daughter we would never have any reason to be friends, or in the same room, or to even speak to one another. This is what it is. And I'm okay with it. I'm free of it.

As sad as it might seem to most people, accepting this is probably one of the best things I could have ever done for myself. It helped me to realize that just because I wasn't the daughter they expected or hoped for, didn't mean I wasn't exactly who I was supposed to be. It didn't mean there was anything wrong with the way I was. I'll admit that this lesson was just recently learned, but the mourning for the parent/child relationship was over and done years ago. Ironically,  I also believe it has made me a better parent. At least I hope that it has.

Hope, who now highly recommends therapy. Even if you aren't a Crazy Muthah.