Saturday, February 22, 2014

99 Problems #4...Stinky Stuff

After the seriousness and stress of my last post, I figured I'd lighten it up a bit this time. A bit. Not too much though. I am feeling less of a weight on my shoulders thanks to my BF who took all the kids last night and left me with a few glorious, calm and quiet hours to myself. I said he saved my life. More accurately, he was probably just trying to save his. In any case. It worked. Just a wee bit of time to breath and engage in my (special) interest and I feel 10 times better. The urge to run is fading and the urge to duct tape everyone to chairs in the basement is completely gone. See?  Just listen to me and do what I say, and all will be well with the world. I've noticed he is trying. And trying is A Okay with me. 

So today, I figured I'd continue on with my 99 problem journey.  One of my alone activities last night included reading  The Girl with the Curly Hair. I've been following her on Facebook for the better part of a year and in my desperate state of mind as of late, I figured I would buy her book. I, of course, ended up buying three, because I can't ever do anything half assed. I can identify with almost everything, and even though some of the things I identify with aren't necessary still feels good. It's incredibly calming and brings an abundance of relief to read her words, nod in agreement, think how much sense it makes and then breathe. Really breathe. A deep cleansing breath of... thank god somebody gets it

The problem of the day isn't too deep, although, watch. I bet I can change that. It's a sensory problem, which I've only recently been able to identify as being triggers to my anxiety/panic attacks. My problem #4.....

Not just the smell of perfume, but really, the smell of anything. Anything I don't like anyway. I don't wear perfume. I used to years ago, because, I was supposed to. Because my mother did. Because people said it smelled soooo good. I've never liked it. My BF wears cologne and if he gets too close, every morning I'm coughing and waving him away. It's not just that it smells. I honestly think the main problem is that I can taste it. I can taste all of it. Cologne. In. My. Mouth. Ugh. By the evening, however, enough has worn off during the day that I can find it somewhat pleasant. I'm like this with most things that people use to make themselves smell nice. Hair products are the same.  I hardly even used to use them with long hair. Now that I've cut my  hair I have to and it's torture. All day long I feel like I'm eating gel and hairspray. If I do it too many days in a row I'll start to get headaches.  I've started taking days off and putting my hair in this scarf like headband, so people probably think I'm undergoing chemo.

Cleaners, laundry detergent, air's all the same. As a child, my mother made me go to the grocery store with her. I hated it for many reasons, but one of the worst parts of the whole experience was going down the laundry detergent aisle. I would avoid it at all costs. "I can taste it!" I would say. "You're not eating it, Hope. You can't taste it." She would counter. She was wrong. I could taste it. I still can. My guess is it has something to do with my senses being crossed. My mother always used Gain Detergent. It was one of the worst. I could taste it for days.  I now use all unscented detergents. No dyes. No perfumes. My BF's ex uses Gain. I've never been in her laundry room, but I know by the taste I get in my mouth, when her kids walk through the door.

The smells created when cooking can have the same effect. I taste it. If it's something I like to taste it's not so bad. If it's something I don't like to taste, I get to, whether I eat it or not. If it's spicy my eyes will burn. 

Body odor? Bad breath? Don't get me started, and believe me, I know I'm not immune to either. I can't take it when I stink either. I cannot sit next to someone who stinks. I will move.  I've been known to just come out and say..."ewww. you smell." It's not considered appropriate or polite, but I'm sorry, I stand by that truth, simply because if I was sending off an offensive odor and for some reason was not aware, I would hope to god someone would tell me. It's like the spinach in the teeth, or the booger in the nose. Don't be a dick and let me walk around like that all day. Seriously. Don't be a dick.

So as you can see, smells are an issue, but that is not to say that I don't like any smells. I love the smell of baked goods, fruity shampoos, my hemp hand lotion, freshly brewed coffee, newly cut grass or flowers, and beer. I'm sure it's no accident that these all happen to be things I can consume, including the grass and flowers. I'm sure there are others, I just can't think of them now. 

Only 95 more to go!

Hope, who just thought of one exception to the edible/smell rule and that is gasoline. I do still kind of love the smell of gasoline. 

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Me. Bitching.

I've been reading Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. I now have love for her and I'm finding the book to be extremely helpful in my writing pursuits. One of the things she stresses in the book is to write. Obviously. But to write every day. Something. Anything. Even if it's shit. And lets be honest, most of it is. She stresses the importance of filling a notebook every month. Just to get it in. To get it done. Well. I started out really well, but now it's the 20th and I have about 8 pages filled. Why? Life. It's sucking me dry. This isn't news, I know.

I have all of these great topics and ideas and I'm dying to get to it but I can't. Not only because of lack of time, but more because so fucking much is pissing me off right now that I need to dump it before I can focus on anything else. So here I am. It's fitting as this is where I bitch. I have to warn you, this entry is probably going to suck. But I don't care, because I'm drinking. happy face with tongue sticking out.

I don't make a habit of drinking and blogging, but maybe I should. So far it feels pretty good, but then again, I just downed a whole drink in five minutes. I just recently spent some time with family. The blood kind. The only family members that do not drink or aren't addicted to coke or heroin are those in recovery. It's sad, pathetic, and disgusting, but I get it. I so get it. So tonight, rather than expending more energy trying not to be one of them, I'm just going with it. Truth is, I am one of them. I think I fight harder not to lose control, but in the end, when it's needed, I take my medicine. Sad, but that's not what I wanted to talk about.

Just had to refill. If I do that two more times, this blog will become about how everything is great!!! In fact, I'm already starting to wonder why I'm really here. Okay. So, it's school vacation week. It's hard to believe that is the only reason I feel like jumping off a cliff, and it's not, but it's not helping. I'm trying to work, I'm behind on everything and at the same time I'm trying to keep my child occupied and prevent him from sinking deeper and deeper into his own world. It's not working. While he is awesome and funny and an all around great kid, without structure and a routine and someone forcing him into the real world he will sink deeper and deeper into his own. Aside from the non stop singing (only show tunes/movie themes) it's nearly impossible to get him to do or talk about anything other than what he is playing in his mind. Because he's not really playing so you can see him playing. It's hard to explain... but basically he just has something (mostly lego guys) in his hands and he spins around in circles and he makes noises. I will say something to him,...anything... like it's time to get ready to leave or ask him what he wants for lunch...and he will say.."I think it's time to ask yourself what you believe in" or "Great. I think I got it,. but tell me the whole thing again just in case because I wasn't listening." or "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."  Nothing that has anything to do with what I'm saying to him. In fact, he's not really saying anything. Those are all movie quotes. And while it's sometimes funny and sometimes cute, and yes, I know I do it too, far too often, a full week of it is too much to handle. But I can't stop it and I can't shake him until he comes back to reality and I can't yell and I can't just go hide so I don't have to hear it anymore. As I'm saying this, I'm thinking to myself, wow the mom's with two fighting kids really do have it worse than I do and now I'm feeling guilty for not being able to deal with a child who's oddities and ocd tendencies drive me up the wall when he's home for a week. But still, they do, and I know why. It's because they conflict with mine. It's quite possible I'm driving him just as batty and that is why he's spending so much time in la la land. But in any case. School. Soon. Very soon.

The rest of it is all lumped together into what I like to refer to as The Weight of the World. I feel it. On my shoulders. Constantly. The weight of having to earn enough (extra) money so we can eat and have heat and pay all of our bills. The weight of having to work sometimes 7 days a week in order to accomplish this and watch everyone else lie around while I do it. The weight of having to buy the food and plan the meals and cook the meals. The weight of having to take care of everything in the home, the laundry, the dishes, and the cleaning (that's a joke), while trying to work a more than full time job in only the part time hours I'm allotted. The weight of being the primary caregiver for my son and losing 6 precious nights of me time per month that I definitely used to recharge. I've spent that last few years fighting and asking for help with some of this, and when I do I feel like I get attitude. Just plain ass bullshit attitude. I feel the weight of still being the "other woman" because that is how it is. I'm not The Woman. The primary woman. I still come second to what the ex wife wants and needs and I know he would disagree with this but it's true. Why else wouldn't he have made The Woman by now? On top of this, we're supposed to be making a move. Soon. Like in 2 and half months. Beside all the the shit we have here that needs to get packed up, we are moving into a house that needs work top to bottom. I have no reason to believe that anyone but me will be doing all of this because history has told me...that no one but ME will be doing all this. Does this make sense? I hope it makes sense or else I just want to jump of a fucking bridge for nothing. (I know I said cliff before. I'm changing it up.) When I voice my feelings, my frustration, my dissatisfaction with the way things are...well...basically that is just me starting a fight. Me ruining the day. Me attacking. Me blaming. Nothing ever changes. In fact, I think that with each time I do voice my feelings I make things worse.

So. I'm stuck. I'm fucked. One more drink and I'll also be drunk. Good thing is...I'm almost drunk.

There. Bitch session complete. Maybe this will free up some space to actually dive into something with more life. Something with less of a dead end.

Hope, who is becoming no fun to be around and who doesn't even care to be around much anymore anyway.

Monday, February 3, 2014

Philip Seymour Hoffman. Another one bites the dust.

Philip Seymour Hoffman died yesterday. Or at least that is when they found his body. If you are on any type of Social Media site it was hard to miss, as is just about anything else, whether you want to know about it or not. It wasn't difficult to guess what might have been the cause of his death.  At the first news of his passing the "feed" was packed with words like sadheartbreaking, genius, and gifted. Later as more news broke the word shocking was added to the list. And then it took only a matter of hours (I say that generously, it was probably more like minutes) for those words to change. Soon the "feed" was packed with words like pathetic, tragic, loser, addict, and junkie. In the blink of an eye, the masses, once again, decide who or what a person is based on their demons. The talent becomes overshadowed by the needle found in his vein.

I'm not saying that it should be this way, or it shouldn't. I don't know. I do know that personally I don't like it. I hate to see people turn so quickly. To dismiss someones beauty simply because of what was ugly. To judge so harshly, a demon that I'm guessing most of them have never battled. It makes me sad. It also makes me angry. There is far too little understanding and compassion in this world, and far to much judging and condemning. That alone, makes it much harder, for certain types of people to find their way. They simply feel it all on a much grander scale.

As I said, I wasn't surprised to hear his death was drug related. I was hopeful that maybe it wasn't, but not surprised that it was. You will rarely find an individual with that level of depth, that has not, at the very least "dabbled", in an attempt to shut some of it off.

I'm sure people will lose interest in bashing as they always seem to do. Soon enough, the overdose won't be the main focus, and hopefully his legacy will be more about what an amazingly talented actor he was. More accurately though, it will most likely turn a sharper corner, and he will be idolized because of his demons.  In either case, I think we miss the point.

RIP, Philip Seymour Hoffman. A man, who despite all of his fantastic character portrayals, will forever be known (to me) as the man that invented "sharting". :)