Suburban Goddess

I’m knee-deep in a couple of different projects now, which is pretty helpful because it keeps me occupied. I’m discovering that if I keep my thoughts focused, I tend to avoid the downward spiral into the pit of self-imposed despair.

For the first time ever, I had a full-fledged panic attack. I joke about it all the time, but when it happens to you in reality, it’s terrifying. I was suddenly short of breath, and I had this overwhelming sensation of nausea. A blackness seemed to creep in quickly from my peripheral vision until I couldn’t see, and I was forced to sit down before my knees gave way. For a full five minutes, I gasped for air as my friend looked on helplessly…

It was that very minute that I realized I’ve got to change things.

I’ve been told that there are drugs for this condition, “something to take the edge off for a little while.” “It’ll help you relax until you get back on your feet.” “It’ll help you forget the bad things.” I’m starting to wonder if my refusal to take them is more an issue of pride than intelligence. But the fact is, I don’t FEEL crazy. Do crazy people know they’re crazy? Isn’t that the very definition of crazy?

I don’t WANT to pop a pill and have everything be happy. Call me crazy, (actually, don’t), but I come from the belief that if you want something, you have to work for it. Maybe that applies to happiness as well.

I’m trying to hit the mental reset button, and get back to the things that matter. I have no control over the world around me, but damn it, I can control myself. And I will not let the world around me drag me back to that black place.

I refuse to go.

I just couldn’t resist….

Some nights, this house is so completely quiet. The sound of the cars on the street just compound the lonely feeling; all the busy people with someplace to go…

I am here. Alone in the silence. It’s hard for me, to sit here in solitude. I could turn on the TV for some background noise, but that only makes it harder. This eerie stillness, after Alex has gone to sleep and I am fully aware of the huge burden of responsibility weighing on my shoulders, it’s almost unbearable.

I can’t leave. I can’t run. I’m trapped here, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

It’s nights like this that I pray for daylight.

Where is the happy medium when you are a completely open person who is seeing someone who appears to be extremely private?

Chip would often complain about me airing out our dirty laundry here for the world to see, but let’s face it; I don’t care what Chip wants. He forfeited any respect I had for his feelings when he decided to end our marriage.

But now I find myself in unfamiliar territory… I CARE about what this person thinks. I feel like saying this much about him is saying too much; I feel like he has some measure of trust for me, and I don’t want to betray that.

I’ve never had this problem before.

I was interested to hear my tiny little hometown of Slidell was in the national news last week. It appears that the mayor Ben Morris is going head-to-head with the ACLU because someone decided to put a picture of Jesus in the courthouse.

Before I get an inbox full of hatemail, let me explain. Jesus was a cool guy, sure. I get it. But part of the whole idea of democracy was a separation of church and state. Let’s ponder this for a moment; separation of CHURCH and STATE.

If you were on trial, would you want a Muslim on your jury? How about an atheist? Or better yet, a Satan worshiper? Once you open the door to religion in the courtroom, impartiality flies out the window. If I were going to trial, I would want 12 of the most even-headed, fair, moral and impartial people that my lawyer could find. If they believe in Jesus, great. If they don’t, it doesn’t hurt my feelings, just as long as they have a decent moral compass.

If you open the door for Jesus, then you have to open the door for everyone else, too. And when someone points that out, you can’t stand in front of a news camera and basically tell the rest of the world “F-you” simply because you think your God is better than everyone else’s. Maybe he is, but the fact is, HE DOESN’T BELONG THERE.

But if you ARE going to let him in, then you damn well better start charging those multi-million dollar churches tax.  Because I’m sure Jesus would want his grandma to have enough money in the federal reserves to pay her Social Security check.

Assmint.  No, it’s not a new hygiene product.

Used in advertising in place of the word “assessment.”

Some days, the absurdity of it all is overwhelming.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every time a human said something stupid, their lungs would retract ever so slightly…

Eventually, their lung capacity would shrink so much, that they would THINK about what they are saying before they mindlessly blurt out something stupid…

And those who are just too stupid to get it would asphyxiate, leaving the planet to the rest of us…

(Deep breath)

The past few visits to New Orleans have brought some interesting new words into Alex’s vocabulary. (The most significant is actually not a word, but a cajun expression that goes, AAAAAA-IIIIEEEEEE!) I’m quite sure my mother gets great enjoyment out of planting words in my kid’s head, only to have her regurgitate them at the most in-opportune times. But I actually have my father to thank for the latest embarassing moment.

My parents have an old slot machine set up in their kitchen. Of course, Alex is immediately drawn to the bright colors and general shininess of the big box (I have NO idea where she gets that from). So as soon as we arrive, she always runs to my father, who helps her insert the shiny coin into the slot, leans over and pulls the handle with great determination, and stands back to observe as fate takes over.

Whhhirrrrrrrrr. Click. Click. Click.

“LOOOOOO-SER!” my father says as three different icons fall into line. He holds an “L” sign up to his forehead as Alex squeals with delight. “Again, Ampa, Again!” And so it goes, all weekend, Alex & Ampa play the LOOOOOSER game.

This morning started like any other; I woke up late, rushed to get dressed, (forgot my camera for a very important photo shoot), and grabbed Alex to run her into the daycare. Andy, the daycare supervisor, greeted Alex with her daily hug.

“Hey Alex! Did you play anything this weekend?”

I watched in horror as she raised her tiny little fingers into a perfect “L” against her forehead.

“LOOOOOSER!”

It just makes a Mommy proud.

I’m constantly trying to keep myself in any given moment, instead of jumping ahead or dwelling in the past, and I find it a lot more challenging than it sounds. Supposedly, by keeping yourself IN the moment, you’re not swallowed by the emotions of your past, which allows you to move forward into new, healthy relationships without projecting your baggage onto the next unsuspecting person. It also supposedly keeps you from wasting energy on the “what if’s;” those pesky scenarios that creep into your psyche and taint all your future actions. Because tomorrow, you might get hit by a bus.

Sometimes, I find that it works. Earlier last week, I was angry about something (I don’t even remember what it was, it was so insignificant), and I carried it with me the majority of the day. At some point, I realized I was still riled up from the earlier events, and it was ruining the very rewarding accomplishment I was in the middle of… so I chose to let it go. Right that moment, I was doing something I should be happy about, and I was still thinking about the inconsiderate ass who had tried to ruin my day earlier. HE wasn’t thinking about ME at that moment… so why was I letting him ruin my day?

So, like I said, sometimes it works. But where I’m having trouble with this concept is applying it to future events. One particular case in point: dating.

How can you NOT think ahead when you’re dating someone? Especially if you really like them? Don’t get me wrong here, I most definitely am NOT planning the next wedding… but when you date someone, and decide to be “exclusive,” certain things are now set into motion that have only one of two endings.

Good. Or Bad. (Bad could be either marriage or a break-up. It’s all relative to your own perception of what’s bad.)

But once you go “exclusive,” you’re implying that you’re going to make an emotional investment in someone. This is where things get really tricky for me. You would think that I wouldn’t make an investment in someone who may not be there later. To me, that contradicts the whole purpose of being in a relationship with someone; I’m looking for a full commitment, not something to pass the time until the next guy comes along. But obviously, I have no idea how to tell who that person is because I’ve failed miserably TWICE. In both cases, I wasted so much energy trying to figure out what would happen next that I completely missed what was going on in the moment.

It didn’t help that both of those relationships were with people who were emotionally retarded.

I guess this just means I need to re-evaluate who I choose to make an emotional investment with. Because it would be really nice if the guy will be there when I’m ready to make a withdrawal…

“Ask your mom about her experience with Jello shots…”

“Jello shots?  Mom, what are you doing with Jello shots?”

“Well, I was at this sex toy party-”

“EWWWW!  Who ARE YOU??”