tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9320671001820090532024-03-13T01:13:36.799-05:00A Small Town WiccanA blog about stuff. Written by an aspiring Mortician with two crazy kids and a nerdy Husband.SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.comBlogger156125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-25088317753436592402017-06-28T16:16:00.000-05:002017-06-28T16:16:21.767-05:00Job Hunting. Anxiety Overload.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Here I am. </div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Thirty years old. </span></i></div>
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As a female I've been told I was supposed to be angry or afraid of turning thirty. I am neither. I'm happy to be older. Getting older means I lived longer. I want to live for as long as I can.<br />
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I've been meaning to blog again for a few weeks now. My life has been tossed into the air. I have mixed feelings about it all. Our water got turned off again a few weeks back and it was decided that I have to go back to work. The smallest BabyG is almost 2. The biggest BabyG is so not a baby anymore, she's nearly school age. I guess it's time. Hubby has solely supported us for as long as he can. It's time for me to bite the bullet and get a "real" job.<br />
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I've been applying to place for a couple months and have interviewed at a few hopeful places. Just getting an outfit together to go to the interviews was a rude awakening to me. I have hardly any professional clothes left and last time I wore some of them I was pre-baby and a fit 180lbs.<br />
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One of which is a funeral home. I would start out in the "front of the house" doing some client care. It would get my foot in the door. Once employed there I would be able to be reimbursed for school and learn the trade. I'd be able to move around in the company and they support me furthering my education in anyway if that means bettering myself as an employee. I'd have job security. I'm pretty sure I'd have to wear a suit. I'd be a grown up in a grown up job. It'd be a career. I wouldn't have to change jobs to be in the field I'm going to school for, I'd simply apply within my company and get moved around. It is a corporate establishment so that means room for growth, a chance to move within my state (or really out of state, if I really wanted to) if need be. I'm SO HOPEFUL for this job. I have lost some sleep over it. I've been hovering over my phone about it. I got interviewed last Wednesday and now it is Wednesday again. I told myself I'd call today if I haven't heard anything, it's now 4:30pm and I haven't gotten a phone call. I suppose I'll call tomorrow just to see if anything new has happened or if they know of when I could possible start. I never wanted a job so much before in my entire life for more than just the money aspect.<br />
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The other job was a cellphone job. I interviewed for them weeks ago and it went well but they haven't gotten back to me either. Meh. It'd be a good stable income but it would put me changing jobs in the near future to get into the funeral business and just feels like a step back to me even though the money would be better. It's not a job I would want for the rest of my life. Even though I'd be comfortable and capable I just don't see it as a career job for me. Also, it's been nearly a month and they haven't called me back so I'm not very hopeful about it anyway.<br />
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I've been applying to a few more places but I feel like I'm spinning my wheels. The day care we had picked out didn't have an opening after all, which ended up being a good thing. It is going to cost us the same amount we pay for rent each month to have the kids watched at a daycare. That is scary all by its self. I would have to make double that amount just to make me having a job <i>worth it</i>. Luckily [<b><i>thankfully</i></b>] a family friend has stepped up and is willing to help and is also awaiting me getting a call back from a job just as much as I am. She also isn't charging us an arm and a leg which helps even more.<br />
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Getting a job has meant that I haven't scheduled classes for the fall yet. My anxiety level is through the roof. My heart is beating through my chest. I feel like I'm putting my goals on hold yet again to put other's priorities first. It's a mixed bag, though. I need the bills to be paid just as much as Hubby does and it wouldn't feel right raising kids without power or electricity on in the house. Hubby has made his share of sacrifices too. It's just an adjustment. I know, ultimately, as long as the money is right what I'm doing will benefit us all. I know it. I'm trying to look at all the positives of getting a job outside of the home. Less time with the kids is on both the pro and the con list. <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Also, I'm <u>not</u> giving up on school.</span></i></b> I <b>refuse</b> to give up on school. I'm hoping to get the job at the funeral home in time to still schedule for fall classes once I have a feel for the job and I'm not so overwhelmed by the changes in my every day life. I have a sitter now! I will be able to pay her for watching the kids on school days too. (That means I won't have to take night classes! I could take some classes during the day!)<br />
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Let's face it, kids get tired of you and use and abuse you. Lately there has been a lot of bad days but I know my attitude contributes to it too. I know in a "real" job I will feel more human and Hubby will respect me more. (He has never fully appreciated me for all that I do at home and his expectations for what I should be able to do in a day are unrealistic, at best.) The break from the kids will hopefully get them to appreciate me a bit more as well as listen a little better... maybe.<br />
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I'm just in full freak out mode. I'm trying to take this one day at a time. I'm trying to play it by ear. I'm trying to be mellow but determined. I'm trying to be excited about the opportunities before me instead of sad about about what may possibly go wrong.<br />
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I just am trying not to collapse by my anxiety. I'm avoiding things that weigh me down, if I can help it. I know a lot of this anxiety is happening because I haven't been in the gym for a week because of a nasty cold that I've had. I broke down and went to the doctor and got some medicine. Since the medicine has kicked in I can think about more things than being sick. I've been so antsy today. There are days that I just have this swirling desire to create something. To. DO. SOMETHING. It's overwhelming and I just end up pacing the house instead. I'll clean something. I've washed all the dishes and already have dinner created in my head. Even though I'm doing those things it does not satisfy that feeling of needing to create something. It's days like this that I wish I had an established crafting area that I could just sit and tinker at. I probably could if I didn't maintain a constant amount of clutter and chaos all through-out the house, though. HAHAHAHAH but I digress.<br />
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Anyway, there ya have it.<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">B</span></i></b></div>
SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-91837167847289710132017-02-22T14:56:00.002-06:002017-02-22T14:56:23.388-06:00Turning 30.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I often <i><span style="font-size: x-large;">laugh out loud</span></i> when I think about what being an adult would entail when I was a teenager.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I pictured soft jazz playing</i></span>.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Either being married or single (I was never too attached to either way of life so I could be satisfied with either) and both my SO and I would be successful people. I would be a history teacher and I would get a degree in anthropology. My SO and I would take turns cooking and cleaning. I would not have children because I was going to travel every chance I got. All of my money would be thrown into travel and fancy drinks with fancy meals. I would see the world because being worldly helps when you're a historian and successful anthropologist. I read all of these books about these people being approached to drop everything and go on these big important trips because they knew things. I wanted to be that person that knew things. I wanted to be published by 40 and settling into my dusty library-looking office by 50 as a world renowned historian/specialist on... <i><b>SOMETHING</b></i>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Technically I could still become a specialist in something and maybe even well versed in a subject that local officials may consider asking me my opinion on by the age of 40. </span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Maybe.</span></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> I did have kids though. I did get married. We are not super successful in anything we've done. I mean, Hubby is a mastermind at sales but it isn't something he's passionate about. This isn't about him, anyway. It's about me. I'm turning 30 in a few months. (Four, to be exact) I feel like I've been 29 years old for the last three years though so you could say I've come to terms with getting out of my 20s already.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I sometimes feel like I'm seventeen with the shaky legs of a newborn calf. That may be because I'm attending community college and am figuratively trying to unbury myself from my shitty teenage grades. I'm doing much better in my classes this go-round but it's a slow climb out of the hole I've buried myself in over ten years ago. I'm somewhere between a high school senior (with my math) and a second year college student (with english and humanities) and it's just weird. Teenage me totally thought I'd have a degree in something by now. Probably history and teaching. I want to do neither of those things now. Sure, anthropology is still very interesting to me but I just don't have that Indiana Jones feeling anymore. Now I'm happy with just getting away from my kids for a few hours as an adventure and that's completely okay with me. Teenage me would totally not view that as acceptable and probably a bit lame. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I guess you can say I settled. I don't <i>feel </i>like I settled though. Settling to me is like staying with someone that treats me bad just because they help pay my bills. Settling is staying in your relationship even though you aren't happy. Settling is itching for a change but never taking that first step. Settling is making your aspirations last while everyone else's comes first. Settling to me is picking the car your husband really wants just because you know it'll make him happy even though you really want the buick instead. Settling is letting your husband get a vasectomy when you, in the far reaches of your mind, want a third child even though you know that two is plenty and your life can be just as full with two children. <i>Okay</i>, so I <i>may</i> have settled on a <i>few things </i>in life... but not on the important things. I'm happy with my life-- generally speaking. I like who I'm married to. I like how my kids are turning out (They aren't babies anymore! Ahhhhh! I'm so happy/sad about it all.) I like where I'm living. I have a car, we have lights and water on. I feel supported and loved. Math, allergies and my bruised calf muscle (a small work-out injury) is honestly the worst aspects in my life right now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I won't become famous on youtube. I won't become a reality star. I may never publish a book about the anthropology of an unknown tribe of people that I discovered myself while hiking the swiss alps. Knowing these things doesn't mean I'm settling. Knowing these things means I'm letting go of silly dreams to embrace and aspire towards the reachable things. I <i>will</i> get an Associates Degree in Science. I <i>will </i>become a Funeral Director. I <i>will</i> pass all of my classes this semester and I <i>will</i> become a certified Mortician. I <i>will</i> raise my kids and help them graduate with a high school diploma. I <i>will</i> love my husband for as long as he lets me<i> and as long as he deserves it.</i> I <i>will </i>do what it takes to accomplish these things.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm not where I thought I'd be at thirty and I'm okay with that. I'm also okay with being thirty at all. It's one of my biggest pet peeves when a woman is ashamed of her age. I'm actually very pleased about being out of my twenties. It's about damn time! I feel like I've lived five lives in my 20s. </span><br />
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-88342783151745190262016-09-14T08:50:00.001-05:002016-09-14T09:20:53.747-05:00Community College Still Counts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Since becoming a student again my life has changed substantially.</span></span> </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If you are a stay at home mom and you feel overwhelmed, depressed and similar to an underappreciated slave-- I advice taking ONE college course. If you can't afford it, fill out the FASFA information this coming tax season and see what you can do. I'm serious-- It's life saving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I started school this August. I had my second child last september. That's right, I went back to school with two kids under 4. I enrolled in three classes. To my terror, that first week was a nightmare. The juggle of chores, kids and husband just wasn't working for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'm down to 2 classes and I'm really okay with that. One of my classes was a Saturday morning class and it was cancelled due to <i>"and underwhelming amount of sign ups."</i> Of course. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My English class is all consuming. It's online so I basically am at school all day every day. My other class is Math. Math is so "quick" compared to my English class. With Math, I go to class twice a week and just try to do my due homework before the next class. Each assignment with Math takes me about 20 to 30 minutes and we have two assignments per class. Easy Breezy! I hate math and I can balance that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">English? English is responding to people on the internet platform and trying to relate to their bare-bones or <b>omghowdoyoueventieyourshoeseveryday</b> type posts. Then, if YOU post a poorly done assignment you have the humiliation of it being available for all to read in the class and make fun of you the way you're making fun of them. (My last essay. Oh. My. Lanta. it was bad.) I spend DAYS on my English assignments. I lock myself in my room for hours while Hubby deals with the kids or go to my moms and try to stay focused and do it while the kids play with Nana. English is like a Spartan Race that just won't end. I love English. I've always enjoyed writing. This is not fun for me. My life is so Topsy-tervy right now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now that I've rambled, I'd like to add a list of things I've noticed about what these few college courses has done for/to me so if you are on the fence maybe these changes will appeal to you as well:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>My step count has gone up.</b></span><br />I'm not even kidding. Walking that (what feels like) quarter mile to class and up those two flight of stairs twice a week has added to my steps quite noticeably. I'm also noticing that on days that I do not have class, my steps are still up. I'm pacing between the computer and the kids to get my homework done instead of sitting on my butt watching TV. I'm going to my moms house and taking breaks by going to find where ever they are (usually outside) and that means I'm moving more!</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The TV gets turned <span style="color: red;">OFF</span>! / Music gets turned <span style="color: red;">ON</span>!</span></b><br />This may be one of the biggest one. Right now Spotify is playing in the background while I do my homework *ahem* write this blog. Music has helped me on a mental level. TV is busy and needy. Music is freeing and expands the mind. Since becoming a mother I have stopped listening to music (compared to before) and it is the biggest martyr of motherhood for me. You read all those studies about just 30mins of music EVERY DAY for your child tends to encourage that child to be a better human being into adulthood. Turning off the TV sparks creativity and independent play. I'm seeing that now in my toddler. She's three and before we only listened to music when I had a mound (read: mountain) of dishes to wash. She'd run in there if I was washing dishes for longer than two minutes and insist I put on music so she could dance. Now, it's a normal thing for me to turn the TV off and turn Spotify on and tell her to, "Play with Brother. Mommy has homework to do." She shrugs, sometimes she throws a fit and ends up with an iPad or my phone but for the most part she's adapted to this and even throws the device down to play with toys instead after a few songs in.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I'm more inspired to disconnect from my iPad/Phone/Computer and be present in my kid's play.</b></span><br />When I wanted to sign up for courses I was endlessly bored. I was tired of watching the same Doc McStuffin's episode for the 12th time. I was bored with being trapt while I breastfed for the 5th time that day. I was bored with my games on my devices. I was just bored. The boredom was never ending. I was getting angry while I washed dishes, I'd cry while I folded clothes. I was struggling with the depression that was beating through the door to get into my happy boring life. I was irritable and felt underappreciated and used by Hubby. Overwhelmingly, I felt I had no worth. I'd try to get some satisfaction from leveling up in Soda Crush (Candy Crush's bastard brother) and read endless articles about the job I wish I had, knowing I'd have to go to school for it. I was submerging myself in mindless selfish things hoping to accomplish a breakthrough with myself. No matter how many levels gained, I was still endlessly bored. Now, I put my iPad down and get in the floor and let the boy crawl all over me while the girl brushes my hair, pretends to fix my booboo or she shows me how to play her game on a device. </span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Hubby and I have <span style="background-color: #ffe599;"><i>passion</i></span> again.</b></span><br />This is coupled with the fact that the boy is coming up on his first birthday, he is sleeping better by himself and isn't so demanding of the boob anymore. I have more confidence because even if I'm not completely proud of every assignment I turn in-- I'm turning in assignments, and I'm proud of that feat alone. I have a baseline for my own selfish happiness. I am doing something other than chores and babysitting my own children. I'm able to say, <i>"I can't do that right now, this has to happen for me first."</i> and it's liberating and the fact that Hubby supports my efforts and knows that the end goal helps us as a family is mighty fucking attractive. </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now don't get me wrong. There hare some bad things that have happened to that I just haven't been able to sort out yet. For one, my work out schedule has pretty much gone down to nil. I plank occasionally and if the girl is doing yoga poses mindlessly while she she plays I try to get down and mimic her. (She thinks it's hilarious.) I try to make my step goal every day just to say I did something. I don't cook dinner on nights I have class. The class starts at a time I'm usually starting to cook or halfway through. If I eat before class, I'm starving by the end of it. If I wait I'm eating at 9pm. I took a sandwich to yesterday's class but I still ended up eating a horrible hot pocket before bed which caused heartburn and weird dreams. Laundry, cooking and washing dishes halted for the first two weeks of class. I think I cooked two meals those first two weeks, washing only the minimal required dishes to accomplish those meals. Hubby has resorted to spaghetti-Os and hot pockets most nights. He doesn't complain, but sometimes he does seem sad when I say I have no plans to cook. (I tell him he can cook whenever he feels like it, and he's even washed dishes once because I said I wasn't going to cook unless the dishes were done and I had no intentions of doing dishes.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For the most part, though, going back to school as an adult with two small children saved my life in more ways than one. I feel like I'm moving forward in my life. I get that feeling of accomplishment when I score a passing grade on an assignment or test. I get to speak to other adults and it's not about children or cartoons. The support for me going back to school has been amazing. Feeling that support is life saving just alone. Realizing how many people are proud of me (even in the form of a facebook likes and a passing positive comment) motivates me. Now, anytime the girl seems someone at a computer typing she runs up to them and says, <i>"Are you doing homework? Mommy does homework."</i> and I can't help but smile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For the curious, I'm per-suing a degree that enables me to work in a Funeral Home or some kind of job in the industry. Right now my classes are pretty ambiguous for a general Science degree, though. When I get to the more specific courses I'll be sure to share that glory for those that are interested. </span></div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-71577030912585007592015-09-12T14:14:00.001-05:002015-09-12T14:36:20.868-05:00My Hospital Bag: Second Pregnancy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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First off, I'd like to say I'm a minimalist. I try to be, anyway. I call myself a minimalist parent too. My first would've gone naked without handmedowns and even her toy collection was bought second hand or given to her by friends and family. The only thing new we made sure to buy was her infant car seat and stroller (it was a package deal).</div>
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I can't stress enough the importance of packing light for the hospital visit when delivering your baby!!!!</div>
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Ask yourself: <br />
- How close is the hospital to your family and friends?<br />
- Will someone be able to run to your house "real quick" and get anything forgotten?<br />
- Do you live in an area that provides late night food options if the hospital cafeteria is closed?<br />
- Will people come to visit you and the new baby? Have you hired a photographer to take your first pictures? </div>
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These all matter when deciding what to pack. I've seen huge lists that basically tell you to pack everything you got at your baby shower and I think those people are stupid or have never had a baby before. Either way, I'm here to tell you: less is always more! </div>
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Don't be fooled by media births, going into labor isn't a rushed experience... especially in the induced and scheduled C-section norms of today. Let's also keep in mind that I labored for 30+hrs (induced) for my first. Even if you forget something you very well may notice it before the baby even gets oxygen in his or her lungs. <br />
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<u><span style="font-size: large;"><b>For Baby</b></span></u></div>
- Outfits! Outfits! Outfits! I'd say at least 5. Keep the one you want to take them home in on your mind, save that one for after you've signed your release papers! Your kid will be pooping black tar and you will get it on their clothes. It's bound to happen... or they throw up on the outfit... or you bleed on them. (Gross, I know, but it happens)<br />
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- Nursing Pillow. Even if you're going to bottle feed, these pillows are perfect for baby to prop up on or you put in your lap to help you hold the baby. You're going to be very exhausted the first 10 or so hours. This pillow helped me feel like my baby was secure while in my arms! I'll mention the nursing cover in this one too. No judging, but if you want to use one, you'll be starting at the hospital!<br />
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- Small Grocery bags (doubled up) or small trash bags. This is something I never considered with my first pregnancy. Your baby is going to poop everywhere. You may bleed on your pajama pants. Your baby may spit up all over your shirt. Those nice nurses won't be doing your laundry, you'll need a place to store those dirty clothes until you get home. I was super embarrassed when I asked a nurse for an empty trash bag for my soiled clothes. (Even though you shouldn't be embarrassed about ANYTHING after having a kid. Seriously. The nurses also aren't there to judge you.)<br />
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- Clothing accessories. Not necessary as a hat will be provided for your little one but hats, mittens, socks, and blankets are helpful because your baby will be frigid in that ice box of a hospital. You're going to want to burrito your baby up in four or so layers. While the hospital provides blankets, it's always nice to bring two or three of the 100 you got from your baby shower.<br />
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- Wipes. Meh... you don't have to pack wipes or diapers since the hospital will provide them but I'm packing them because the hospital I went to had these weird wet them yourself deals that weren't all that great.<br />
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**You'll notice there aren't any diapers. You won't need them, the hospital provides them and even if you're going to cloth diaper, you don't want the first couple days of poop to deal with on cloth. You just, don't. I promise!<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">For Mommy</span></u></b></div>
- Pack for 3 days of clothes + Going home outfit. Usually, 48hrs is standard but if you have a C-section (emergency or not) you may be held up longer. If your baby has jaundice, you may spend an extra night. If something outside of the norm happens while you're having your baby-- you may stay for more. Pack for 3, if those other issues happen hopefully you'll have a friend, husband, or family member be able to get you extra clothes. I packed 2 <i>very comfortable</i> pajama pants and 3 loose fitting t-shirts. I also want to note that I packed a light jacket and fuzzy socks. Can be subbed with your favorite robe and slippers. I liked the socks with my first pregnancy, I didn't have to hunt down shoes every treck to the bathroom. There are two socks shown but I most likely will pack two more just for good measure before D-Day. <i>The hospital rooms are cold!</i> <br />
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- Toiletries* (Will explain further)<br />
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- Electronic devices and chargers! You may be in labor for <u>HOURS</u>. I played Candy Crush through most of my labor with my first. The distraction was awesome. I bounced on a yoga ball and crushed those candies! I plan on doing the same this go around too. Obviously, if you don't have a tablet your phone counts in this. I just had a phone last time. Whatever works! If you think you can focus on a book, bring it! If you like crosswords and prefer that- pack that! In my opinion you will need something to help you through those hours of contractions. I also used my phone to track my contractions. You will most likely be hooked up to a machine to track those contractions but the app was much handier and I felt more in the loop that way.<br />
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- A Pillow from home. Any hospital trip needs your own pillow. You can ask for more, but they're all deflated and usually crunchy from the protective slip that's on them. I loved having my own personal pillow. <br />
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*Toiletries<br />
- Shampoo/Conditioner<br />
- Body Wash<br />
- Lotion (You may want to bring a bigger bottle)<br />
- Hair Ties. You'll want spares!<br />
- Lip Balm. Pack more than one!<br />
- Deodorant (I only have man deodorant right now because of couponing. It does the same job!)<br />
- Toothpaste & Toothbrush. I'm not bringing my usual toothbrush just because that seems like something you forget there when you're so excited to leave!<br />
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So there you have it. My hospital bag! <br />
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Obviously you will also need to bring with you a car seat and your insurance information. If you don't have a cellphone or like to be over prepared, print out a list of important numbers to keep handy. If you have ANY allergies it would be wise to have a printed list of those things to give to the nurses, and probably on allergist letterhead or make sure it's added to your file before your due date. Also, if you're going to write a Baby Delivery Plan for your nurses you will need a copy of that too. <br />
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You'll notice I didn't pack any underwear or make up. I'm not a make-up type person, but even if I was... this whole, <i>"Get dressed like you're out at a nice lunch while people come visit you at the hospital after pushing a baby out of your vagina"</i> thing just blows my mind. I mean, if you're just one of those people that would rather chew their own foot off than leave the house without mascara-- you go right ahead... but not me. I think it's ridiculous to think that women should get dolled up to entertain after HAVING A BABY! First off, YOU JUST HAD A BABY! Second, people can suck it if they think I'm supposed to "get pretty" while in the hospital recovering from (in some cases) the most traumatic and unflattering events of my entire life. I'll wear clean pajamas and try not to squirt them with boob milk but other than that, come at your own risk! With that said, if you're hiring a professional photographer and you want to not look so drained so you want to wear make up-- no shame. I'm just saying, in general, women shouldn't have to get out of pajamas just because someone wants to help celebrate your grand accomplishment of having a baby. That's just my rant on that...<br />
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O yeah! No underwear! I also didn't pack any pads or chill pads or any of that. The hospital will give you this weird linen mesh underwear to wear and you'll be bleeding and gross and not want to wear your own anyway. They'll even send you home with a couple spares! I was VERY lucky last pregnancy and stopped bleeding before I ran out of the hospital pads they sent me home with. I bled for roughly a month and didn't start again until nearly a year later. (Thanks, breastfeeding!) Everyone and every pregnancy is different though! If you think you'll need them, pack them! If you aren't sure but want to be prepared, pack a few and then pack some aside so you can just tell someone to <i>"Grab that floral bag in my bathroom</i>" or whatever while you're still in the hospital if you need more. <br />
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I also didn't pack any snacks. I'm having this kid in my hometown. If not one person out of the twenty available people won't get me snacks or run to a drive-thru after I have this kid then I really am screwed but those odds are in my favor. I trust that Hubby or my mom especially will get me something to eat if the hospital cafeteria is closed. I do plan on packing pineapple juice (maybe) but the nurse stations are pretty stocked with water and juice. I'm also debating on making my own granola bars and packing a few of those... or making a little snack pack of peanut butter, Nutella and homemade graham crackers. All of that is very optional though. I will say, breastfeeding and staying in a hospital bed makes you very hungry. You'll want a snack between meal times! I'm thinking I may make a stash of hospital treats and keep them at home so when my sister comes to visit me she can just bring me the bag of my prepared snacks after I've had the baby but can't come home yet. (My sister is going to stay with my daughter while we're all in the hospital-- if all goes as planned)<br />
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I hope this gives you a better idea of what to pack in your bag! I'm 36 weeks and just now got my bag officially "ready to roll" when I didn't pack until I was told I was being induced for my first. I am anxious to have this baby already! That last month of being pregnant really is in slow motion. </div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-4752200325649518572015-09-04T12:07:00.001-05:002016-09-14T09:26:43.650-05:00PUPPP sucks.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pruritic_urticarial_papules_and_plaques_of_pregnancy" target="_blank">PUPPP</a> or <span style="background-image: none; border: 0px; color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Pruritic urticarial papules and plaques of pregnancy, sucks. Doctors know very little about why it happens but some researchers in the UK found a connection to dairy consumption, having multiple babies in one birth or it being the second+ pregnancy and mothers pregnant with boys. They think it's a conflict between the male DNA and the already established female DNA--- but that's all speculation since it wasn't a formal study.</span><br />
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I have around thirty days left in this pregnancy. My due date is October 7th, but we all know babies come when they want regardless of doctor estimated ETA. Well, with that said we've been pretty strict around our house when it comes to dairy because of BabyG's eczema related allergies. Since I only have a few weeks to go I wanted ice cream to soothe the emotional stress of my impending hospital stay and all the nasty that comes with child birth. You know the drill... Eat the angst away. Well, that bowl of ice cream is what I believe triggered this awful PUPPP mess.<br />
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<span style="background-image: none; border: 0px; color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I woke up like this: </span><br />
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<span style="background-image: none; border: 0px; color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-image: none; border: 0px; color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-image: none; border: 0px; color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Swollen, hives on my sides and my fingers ached because they were so swollen. The first day I thought I had developed a terrible allergy to coconut, which I had sprinkled on my ice cream the night before. Hubby said it must have been the ice cream. I must have developed BabyG's dairy allergy. I would've thought so too but the milkshake I had drank a few nights before didn't bother me. The first twenty-four hours I was in a Benadryl stupor believing I had exposed myself to something my body just decided to hate. The hives had started almost immediately after eating the ice cream on my elbows. I put some topical Benadryl on it thinking I had been bitten by something or rubbed up against something my skin decided it didn't like. The topical Benadryl didn't help me by morning.</span><br />
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<span style="background-image: none; border: 0px; color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The next day, my hands looked like this:</span><br />
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<span style="background-image: none; border: 0px; color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-image: none; border: 0px; color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I was suffering but could handle it. I had stopped taking Benadryl because I worry about the effects on my little uterus dweller and I was seeing improvements while the Benadryl was fading. That is when it dawned on me my new ailment could be pregnancy related. I opened my pregnancy app and sure enough, it said skin changes and cited PUPPP as the culprit. After a quick google search it was clear that's what I have. The hives weren't like hives I've had before. The picture in the wiki article was the same circular hives I had down my arms and legs. </span><br />
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<a href="http://i.imgur.com/ehV2eLh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://i.imgur.com/ehV2eLh.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<span style="background-image: none; border: 0px; color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); line-height: 26px;">Yesterday I spent basically all day looking for first hand experiences with PUPPP and they all read the same way: This is going to be the worst thing I'll experience due to pregnancy. It may or may not last until I give birth. It may or may not go away after I give birth. PUPPP is terrible. The itching is unmeasurable to anything else. Aloe and Pine Tar Soap helps. Head and Shoulders as a body wash is worth a try. The itchy feeling never stops, just subsides. Some recover after a few short weeks without even knowing about removing dairy from their diets. Some used Whole 30 and avoiding sugar and it seemed to help. There is nothing definitive about how to cure this annoying pregnancy symptom, just various way of trying to ease it until it decides to go away. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://i.imgur.com/BSBve2t.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://i.imgur.com/BSBve2t.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); line-height: 26px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); line-height: 26px;">I do know one thing though, my entire life is orbiting around these painfully itchy hives. I wake up at 3am like clock work. I have since I first discovered I was pregnant. I was only about three weeks into being pregnant when I started to wake up at 3am to go use the bathroom. That was my first red flag that I may be pregnant. After a full week of waking up at 3am, regardless of what time I actually fell asleep-- I knew I was pregnant. So, for the last eight months I have been waking up right at 3 or close to it every morning to pee or just to groan and roll over to go back to sleep. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); line-height: 26px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); line-height: 26px;">Now, I wake up at 3am itching. It reminds me of BabyG and her eczema. I itch. I itch so passionately I catch myself holding my breath and my eyes start to water. This morning I woke up at 3am to pee and my lips were swollen but for the most part I felt okay. No major swelling in the hands and feet, just lips and cheeks of my face. So I decided to move out into the living room to sleep sitting up to help reduce the swelling. After a couple moments I could tell a difference in my face but the itching started. Between my toes. The itch was so bad I had to stop periodically to remind myself to breathe. This went on for roughly two hours. I remembered reading the head and shoulders post so I went to my stockpile and was over the moon that I had a bottle. I killed my loofah and used almost half the bottle, but I found some form of relief. I had a breakdown in the shower, scrubbing. I began to sob as I scrubbed, not knowing if the head and shoulders would work. It was five o'clock in the morning and I was using dandruff shampoo as Xanax all over my body. I cried deep until I realized I was having a panic attack. I haven't had a panic attack at that magnitude in years. I had to talk myself down from it. I had to focus on my breathing and count my strokes of the loofah against my skin as it started to unravel because of the pressure I was using. When the water ran clear, I would lather the loofah again and repeat the process. I eventually stopped crying and snapped out of my hysterics. I had visited the dark place the other ladies had complained about in their forum posts. I had cracked. Not knowing if the shampoo would work, I gathered the courage to get out of the shower. The painful tingle of needing to itch had subsided. I could breathe again. Although my hives were bright red and I could see them all over my belly but the tingle was gone. I could feel it reappearing on my hands but it was tolerable. I was back in control. I coated myself in lidocaine aloe; put on fresh pajamas and laid back down on the beanbag chair, my lips were still swollen. I made a fb post reliving my shower meltdown and magically was able to relax enough to sleep, at 6am I closed my eyes and managed to get another two hours of sleep. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://i.imgur.com/hEmSv30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://i.imgur.com/hEmSv30.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); line-height: 26px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); line-height: 26px;">Since then, my lips aren't swollen anymore but I'm still covered in hives and slowly I'm starting to itch all over again. I need a new loofah and I plan on trying to find that soap. If you ever experienced PUPPP or found this blog because you think you may have it -- I'm truly sorry you have to experience this. To put it into words, I can only describe the pain as being covered in red ant bites. I've had regular hives before and these are so much worse. So very painfully worse.</span></span><br />
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UPDATE: I'd like to post my resolutions to this PUPPP issue in case you found this looking for some sort of relief.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Don't</span></b> use Cortizone-10. It is what swelled my hands up so bad. It just doesn't jive with whatever the chemical malfunction is that causes PUPPP to begin with. Well, everyone is different-- try with caution and if you see excessive swelling in a matter of an hour or so just wash it off and wait a couple hours, the swelling should go down and don't look back! I had to put ice on my hands to help the swelling go down after applying cortizone gel because my fingers itched so bad. Lesson learned.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Do</i></span></b> use Zyrtec!!!!! (or the generic versions that are available over the counter) This is what I primarily give credit to my cleared up skin and very minimal itching! Stick to your dose though, at the end of 24hrs I can feel my elbows and knees start to itch again. After taking a zyrtec in about an hour my itching stops and I may have a few stray hives but they are very tolerable. Even with the zyrtec I find myself itching at night and early morning and occasionally throughout the day but it's more like misquito bite annoyance and not my whole body on fire. If you are able to take zyrtec, I really urge you to try it! I bought the pine Tar Soap too but the zyrtec has worked so well I haven't bothered to use it.</div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-68398824394739094632015-07-31T16:59:00.000-05:002015-07-31T17:18:58.309-05:00Couponing + 30 Weeks + HOTHOT Summer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Ah, normalcy!</i><br />
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We have our own place now and are living with our heads barely above water with one paycheck. It's awesome.<br />
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I know... I know... Awesome to live paycheck to paycheck? Crazy talk, right? Well, At least we manage to get our bills paid with one source of income and still manage to eat on the regular. I can't be more thankful. Hubby always seems to provide everything we need. He may be stressed out about it and I drive him crazy because a hundred dollars in the bank account doesn't scare me enough to not spend thirty dollars of it on groceries. In couponing terms, that's atleast seventy dollars worth of groceries anyway... so I don't see the issue.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Qb5H0K-KbTrThamOoWYFWPPsn6KDBNssv3dpokuOrPaI5rVg-O1FU2RoiviTuPY7sE29xDpmQ6VxbkTzpwBr_3ukuYm3Fz5mZcrmq4UJYPLezH6q1qoJKck3GvNzmM4q3d2518kaCg0/s1600/PhotoGrid_1438380785419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Qb5H0K-KbTrThamOoWYFWPPsn6KDBNssv3dpokuOrPaI5rVg-O1FU2RoiviTuPY7sE29xDpmQ6VxbkTzpwBr_3ukuYm3Fz5mZcrmq4UJYPLezH6q1qoJKck3GvNzmM4q3d2518kaCg0/s400/PhotoGrid_1438380785419.jpg" width="281" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">My stockpile it growing! <b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Growing!</i></span> </b></span></div>
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<i>I say that with a maniacal evil scientist type laugh... </i></div>
Need salad dressing? <i>We've got plenty!</i> Cereal?<i> I can't fit it all in my pantry!</i> Chefboyardee? <i>Yeah, that's not fitting very well either...</i> Deodorant? <i>It's beginning to look like christmas!</i> BBQ Sauce? <i>It's in the double digits.</i><br />
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You get my drift. Condiments galore. I'm going to start couponing for new born diapers in a serious way starting next paycheck. We are down to 10ish weeks. I wish I had couponed like this before I had gotten pregnant with BabyG. With BabyG2 on the way I feel much more confident about our situation. It drives Hubby crazy that I don't sweat our squeaking by for a couple days or a week between paychecks but I don't sweat it because we have enough food and diapers (Especially diapers now that BabyG is nearly potty trained, WOOT!) to get us by for those days.<br />
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I remember having ten dollars in my pocket, not the bank because the bank would've taken it because of fees, two weeks until payday and a jar of peanut butter to my name. I had to stretch that ten dollars for those two weeks, sometimes three weeks, and barely eat while I walked a almost four miles to and from work because I couldn't afford the gas. Without working at a restaurant during that time I would've probably starved to death. I was able to smuggle food home from the employee lounge and had a friend that was a chef that would hook me up when there were "mistakes" made. I also managed to get some of those small cereal boxes that were delivered with room service breakfast to help hold me over. I basically stole to be able to feed myself because I was so broke. <br />
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Ask me why I'm sitting comfortable with a hundred dollars to last us a few days.... c'mon... try me. We always have "enough" gas in the tanks too. Maybe not enough to flee the city if there is an emergency (which does bug me... <span style="background-color: #ea9999;"><b>zombie apocalypse</b></span> pending and all) but it would be enough to get us to a hospital if need be or that last minute trip to the grocery store or my mom's house and definitely enough for a few errands.<br />
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I'm in my third trimester and besides a few handmedowns from BabyG we have basically NOTHING for this new baby. We're having a boy so yeah... he may be wearing lots of pink. haha! No shame. I don't care. He's going to end up playing with my little pony crap anyway. You can't avoid it when you have both genders in the house. We need to buy a carseat... like, last week. That's my main concern right now-- a carseat. In a two weeks I can basically go into labor at any time and we can't get this kid home without a carseat. Hubby keeps saying, <i>"We went through this last time, <b>it'll be fine</b>."</i> When did October get so close? I feel like I fast forwarded through this year. It's been so nice having my own place I guess each month just kind of snuck up on me. Ahhhhhhhh! Okay, I'm done freaking out by that for the moment.<br />
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Well, anyway... this is all I basically have to report. Wow, I stayed focused long enough to write a blog!<br />
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Now go clip some coupons from <a href="http://www.swagbucks.com/refer/Bethgar" target="_blank">Swagbucks</a> and earn points to cash in for giftcards! AND join <a href="https://ibotta.com/r/lp8gq" target="_blank">ibotta</a> and give me a $2 credit. :D (You'll get $1 too)<br />
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-52101516212757628292015-05-08T09:07:00.001-05:002015-05-08T09:10:54.214-05:00Did I tell you I'm pregnant?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have been pretty well immersed in my own life for the last few weeks. For those of you that don't know, I'm pregnant (and halfway to my due date already!) and we finally got our own place again.<br />
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The new place has given Hubby a new kind of confidence that I haven't seen in quite awhile, BabyG has developed a rash while I'm just pregnant and bitchy.<br />
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I keep telling myself it's pregnancy hormones and that I'm not actually depressed. I keep assuring myself that I'm not actually a horrible person. It's not working. Watching mutual friends meet up while I'm uninvited on Facebook brings me back to high school. "Sorry... Didn't know you were available..." And "Well, [random name] kind of just thinks you're a bitch." Yeah, well... I guess I am. I'm just lonely. I'm at that place where I want to invite people over to our place now that we have one but when no one shows up it will crush me.<br />
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I've stopped unpacking. I am slowly just shoving the boxes to the spare room and shutting the door to hide the stacks of boxes and bags of clothes. I can feel my blood pressure go up just thinking about that room.<br />
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I've pissed my family off. Well, my sister has always been very critical of me and even her positivity can only be met with curiosity. Why is honesty so bad? Why am I the bad guy for saying how I feel? My mom kept asking me, "Have you thought about my feelings in this?" In something that didn't even directly involve her. Obviously, I left my grandmothers house in bad terms. It didn't have to be that way, I so desperately didn't want it to be that way. I still have a handful of things there that I need but am too agitated to go back and get. I guess when you become old and senile you can do no wrong. Even me expressing my anger (not directly at my grandma) is some big disrespectful thing that I shouldn't have done. Do you even know how suffocating it feels to be told you aren't allowed to feel a certain way? How robbed of free will and disgusted it is to be told you aren't allowed to feel a certain way simply because of whom it is you feel that way towards? I called no names or made any remarks that weren't based on facts but yet I was the one who was told to feel guilty and wrong for my simple act of feeling. It became clear to me, through the actions of everyone in my family that there is a clear line between me and them. I guess because of my relationship with my family I have always approached all of my relationships with people on thin ice. The only time I remember my mom telling me she was proud of me in my adult life was after having a kid. My sister and grandma began to warm up to me after I had BabyG. I became worth something by joining the unspoken Mother Club. Such a thin string I dangled on with just that.<br />
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Well... Anyway.<br />
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I'm just bitter and pregnant, I guess. Yes, being pregnant is an absolute explanation not an excuse. If you've never been pregnant before you'll never understand the draining, guilt-filled, bitchfest that is carrying a lovable leech in your womb. I have begun to feel actual kicks now, especially when it's been 20mins since my last bathroom visit. According to the scales at the doctors office I've only gained 8lbs (that's been about a month ago, though) which is on track in the "healthy" weight gain chart for my size/height. 8lbs is a substantially smaller difference than what I had gained with BabyG at this point (30lbs... Yikes!) and it seems to be primarily in my torso area. I catch myself lifting my gut and carrying it. Elastic bands are my friend! My belly is so heavy some days. I can't avoid it. I remember feeling this twisted and alone while pregnant with BabyG but I lived thousands of miles away from everyone I knew... This time is different, I live just mere minutes away from the few people I call close and the same amount of minutes for those in the ripples of the friendship scale. I'm probably just being neurotic and needy but I can't help it. Hubby says all the right things and caters to my insecurities to the best of his ability, I am very lucky in that way.<br />
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I guess you could say this blog is a cry for help. A passive aggressive bitchfest that I hope will turn into hugs and sympathy. Just being honest. </div>
SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-24348523225426755672015-01-27T12:39:00.000-06:002015-01-27T12:39:12.162-06:00Painful Truth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I have been mulling this blog post over in my head for days.</i></span> </div>
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I mainly want to talk about the most heartbreaking news I've had this month without sounding like a complete cretin bitch. Especially when a heartbreak also happened with my sister and the situations are so different and so brittle it's hard not to take notice of the obvious.<br />
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A childhood friend of mine past away in a horrible ATV accident. I've known this girl since conception pretty much. Her parents still live next door to my parents. We <strike>are</strike> <i>were</i> just months apart in age. My mother babysat her. We attended school from Kindergarten all the way up to graduating together. We rode the bus together and then later her father drove us to school together. Every echo of my childhood involves her in some way. As adults, we lost touch. It happens. I like to think that if the situation was reverse it would have been her standing in line during my <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wake_%28ceremony%29" target="_blank">Wake</a> with her mother, with damp eyes, and she would hug my mom tightly with regret.<br />
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Although we weren't exactly besties we were still cohorts in petty cigarette theft and meeting up to smoke pot in the middle of the night as teenagers. We created cover stories for each others parents and had make-shift slumber parties at my cousin's house. We raced golf carts and played softball together. We roamed the mall as a pack (all the girls in our neighborhood) and we protected each other as much as besmirched each other. We had a childhood bond that not everyone else gets to experience. That matters. My grief is valid. She was a beautiful girl and she had a small son who will now only know his mother through pictures and stories. I was pretty much in a daze for an entire week and I still break down every time I pass her mom's house (which is nearly daily). I cannot fathom how her parents are. I, honestly, hope to never have to feel that pain. As selfish as it sounds... I'd rather be saved from that agony. My heart bleeds for them.<br />
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My rage crept out when people started posting on her facebook <i>"RIP"</i> just <b>minutes</b> after her fatal accident. Some of her family members found out of her passing through social media. <span style="font-size: large;"><i>Do you know how horrible that is?</i></span> The newspapers hadn't even released her name yet and acquaintances who happen to also be her internet friend was blasting her death for internet sympathy or attention.... or whatever it was that makes me fill with rage. In this internet age there needs to be a level of poise and respect for the deceased. <span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Twenty-four hours.</b></span> Just a day, okay? Don't be the jerkoff tagging the newly departed via facebook in a news article <u><i><b>THAT HASN'T RELEASED THE NAME!</b></i></u> That should be a flag of HELLO, it's not time to blast it to the world yet, okay? I think everyone should practice this <u><b>twenty-four hour </b></u>silence period. If you make your own status just don't mention any names. You can receive internet sympathy while still being vague, <i>I promise</i>. Just take my word on it, mmk?<br />
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Just two days after we experienced this accidental, heartbreaking, death... another one came to pass. This death though, was by choice. <i>I know</i>, mental illness is a real thing and nothing to be mocked at. <i>I know</i>, no matter how it happens, death is still depressing and should be respected. <i>I know</i>, I should still mourn someone who has lost their life.<br />
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<i>In the ripple of a friend who was ripped out of our lives by pure freak accident though? </i></div>
It just leaves you bitter and a bit pissed off. Especially someone who voluntarily abandoned her kids this way. No repercussions. No real explanations. Just selfish greed of wanting to rip a large void in the people who care about your life. <b>Suicide makes me angry.</b> I'm not talking mercy deaths of people with horrible, painful, incurable diseases. I'm talking about someone who decides that living isn't worth it because they <i>"aren't strong enough"</i> to deal with a breakup or an emotional loss. It's hard for me to mourn for someone who <i>chose</i> to take their own life. It's hard for me to be sad for them when all I feel is disgust and pity. Disgust for the suicide victim and pity for the family who has the clean up their mess. Suicide makes me angry. I'd be a horrible Suicide hotline person. <i>"Buck it up" </i>and <i>"You sound like a weak bitch who just needs three days of actually appreciating those around you"</i> won't save lives, sadly.<br />
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Those who get that depressed become submerged in it and can't hardly breath because of a mental illness. Some have that chemical imbalance that needs to be regulated continuously but others just need to open their eyes to those that matter and recognize how much they were taking for granted. While I understand these things, it's hard to get the full story from a dead person, ya know? If they stuck around and worked it out, I wouldn't be so disgusted.<br />
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See. <u><b>I sound like a cretin.</b></u> I can't avoid it. Well, I guess I could but that wouldn't make me so honest with those that lurk this blog. I'm not saying that suicide victims should just be buried in a mass grave at the edge of town or anything, (I'm not catholic) but I do see why they'd go to such extent to make people realize it's not the way to go. A Saint or whomever can reel you back to reality and make you see that living isn't so terrible after all. The idea of leaving your family filled with shame (and that damning you to hell thing) was enough to keep those people alive and sometimes even *gasp* live a full happy life!<br />
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<i>I guess that's what I'm getting at, just without the religious garbage.</i> </div>
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So yeah... I've been pretty sad this month. Heartbroken but trying to live through my daughter's smiles and my Hubby's excitement about ordering a trailer for the Tiny House. <br />
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-76610568948728008252015-01-10T14:17:00.001-06:002015-01-10T14:18:15.992-06:00Hey Look, it's January!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Are you annoyed by all your friends facebook posts about going to the gym yet? How about their new sobriety? Or the most annoying... "New Year, New Me."<br />
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Yeah... none of that here.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>I have one goal for 2015: </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Getting out of my grandmother's house.</u></b></span></div>
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Last time we went to the storage unit we did a lot of throwing away of things and finding things we could give away or sell. I sold another <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/192911473/10-dollar-surprise-tiny-house?ref=shop_home_active_1" target="_blank">$10 Surprise</a> and it's got me all excited about the coming year. Hubby says we can buy the trailer by valentines day... so you know what that means? No shiny things for me, just the foundation to our house! It's cool though. I hate valentines day (see <a href="http://smalltownwiccan.blogspot.com/2014/02/valentine-day-is-for-schmucks.html" target="_blank">previous post</a>) anyway so it's whatevs.<br />
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Since we can afford a CSA box again I am eating better. There is so much lettuce in the house I feel obligated to eat many, many salads. We have SO MUCH FOOD in our house right now. We haven't had REAL food (not just the junk my grandma buys) in the entire time we've lived there. We either couldn't afford it or I would only buy $20 here or there with coupons.... which, as you all know, couponing for food doesn't exactly give you healthy foods to eat. I think I'm mainly going to stick to couponing for toilet paper, mouthwash and household items. I make my own deodorant now. BabyG will get potty trained as soon as she's over her butt funk. (I won't go into detail but it involved a lot of watery poops, we are only into 48hrs of normalcy as of right now) Not buying diapers is going to be so nice! She's starting to get into the age of less handmedowns though which kind of makes me sad. BUT she does have an older cousin that keeps giving her stuff and with the tiny house we won't have that much room for a bunch of clothes anyway. One of these days I'm going to have a freaking yardsale.<br />
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I've had such an itch to create things lately. I want to finish my projects. I want to turn all my yarn into scarves, hats and blankets. I want to sell things on etsy and make enough to go to craftshows with. I want a stockpile of things that are easily on hand to get sold or given away as last minute gifts. I want to paint again. I want to get my paintings out of storage. I need to organize my life. I feel like we don't even know what we have anymore. I need to get over it and just get rid of clothes I can't fit in anymore. I need to turn them into scarves and sell them on etsy. I love having a craft night every month! I have always wanted to be apart of a knitting group and even though I am the only knitter, it is still fun to get together with some nice ladies and create things together. We bring snacky foods and gossip. It's helped with the sanity for sure! It also ensures that for two hours I can sew on eyes to my owl plushies or finish a book box or something I'm already working on. We had our first one of the new year and it was so refreshing. I'm so lucky that my mom is willing to watch BabyG while I do this one completely selfish thing for myself. Every parent needs to be able to hang out with fellow adults for a little while, maybe drink a little, and just have a good relaxing time. I woke up in such a good mood today.<br />
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So here I am, still being hopeful.<br />
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-72183438374404866312014-12-12T12:33:00.000-06:002014-12-12T12:47:25.198-06:00Goodbye 2014: May you rot in hell.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This past year has been tough. The struggle seemed never ending. The bills never stopped. The guilt of the impending year anniversary of us living with my grandmother came and went. Sadness, panic and dismay was the theme of 2014. We spent over a thousand dollars this year on storing our material possessions. Just thinking about that alone makes me want to hurl.<br />
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I don't want to dwell on the most terrible of this past year though. I try not to let the gloom and doom consume me. I try not to feel like I'm waiting in line for something to happen. Earth is not a big waiting room for some mystical place after we die. I loathe that paused feeling. 2014 was more or less my screeching halt and reality check. I'm happy that it seems to have brought Hubby and I closer instead of farther apart. As a newly married couple (Fuck. We were pretty brand new in the whole relationship thing, much-less the marriage) I feel like we came through pretty clean. There was some definite rough patches and we had our first real arguments ever but beyond that we still love each other and still want to be married... which says <b><i>a lot</i></b> in today's approach to marriage.<br />
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I've had a lot of writers block. I haven't posted in months. I'd open up an empty draft and just watch the icon blink and blink and blink. I'd write a few sentences and just feel as if I was weighing the world down with my problems. What did I have to write? "I posted on facebook today asking if anyone could please buy diapers because we couldn't afford them." or, "I managed to get a shower today after I realized it had been two weeks." and "I sobbed for ten minutes because my current life situation rushed at me all at once and I realized how shitty poor we are." O yeah, those are gems. Exactly what you want to be reading, right? Yeah, that's what I thought. That was my past year. Gripe and moan, complain and blame. Shitty <i>shitshitshit</i>.<br />
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Hubby went through numerous jobs. I found myself defending him and my marriage to people who really had no right considering their life choices. He made some shitty decisions. I nagged until nagging became our only form of conversation. I picked up more shifts at my radio job. I nagged some more. I defending him some more. I cried a lot.<br />
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BabyG grew. She's a full blown toddler now. Walking, talking and biting me when she's mad. She's done some amazing growing in the last year. Her favorite phrases right now are, <i>"Go away."</i> and<i> "I'm stuck."</i> She yells for her DaaaaDaaaa any time I piss her off and she loves doggies. She absolutely loves to color. She's such a pen thief. Her bad days are unholy exorcist type days while the good days are flowers and unicorns. She has such a diva personality and I fear for my sanity most days. Recently we both had the flu and while I'm on my twelfth day of recovery she be-bopped her way into health and wellness by day four. She has made this year worth living and the glue that held my family together. Kids seem to always be the problem and the solution. Ah, life.<br />
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I'm a nanny again, which I love. I'm still extreme part time at the radio station. It's a two job life for me. Luckily, a couple months ago, Hubby got a job doing something he is very confident in. It saved us. I don't' know what I would've done if he had not gotten this job. We are officially caught up on all of our bills and are making <i>up-to-date</i> payments on our so far behind credit cards. We are <b>at</b> the light at the end of the tunnel. We are just weeks away from a new year and we may have actual hope for independence in the coming year. We will be able to afford a trailer for a tiny house (unless another foreclosure drops in our lap) and may be in our own place by our birthdays this summer.<br />
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I can breath again. I'm able to buy supplies to make my hippy stuff and coupon. I guess I finally have something to write about. Something worth <i>reading</i> about.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>2014, you can go fuck yourself.</i></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hello, 2015, please be gentle, it's been a rough year.</span></b></div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-15373653751300689502014-07-20T10:43:00.003-05:002014-07-21T07:57:54.869-05:00Nose Dive<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I keep bringing myself back to the times in my life that I've pulled up to a dumpster and just threw up to 60% of everything I owned. The only things I really kept throughout these years were my many books. I always dreamed of having a room in my moderately sized mansion that just had walls and walls of books. I was going to have a personal library. A library to me was hitting the big time. To not only afford all of those book, but to put them on a shelf like little trophies to show off. I would invite friends over and have tea in my library. I would cozy in with a warm beverage on rainy days to be surrounded by these stories of adventure while I traveled elsewhere in a book. When I was in elementary school whenever anyone asked me, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I'd quickly respond with historian. The questioning adult would give me a puzzled look and I would give my practiced speech of becoming a teacher of history or English while I got my PHD and as soon as I accomplished the Doctor title I would then consume my studies with whatever fit my fancy and read books all day long and do interviews for the history channel. Those historians always seemed to know everything about something. That was my dream. Books.<br />
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I took a couple history college courses my junior and senior years of high school. I was depressed to learn that my glamorous and super star idea of a historian wasn't so glamorous after all. Not only that, the history that fit my curriculum was depressing and not all that interesting. I wanted to travel to Egypt and learn hieroglyphics and be someone they rush to because they saw I'm an expert in whatever they had come across.<br />
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Well, I'm selling all of my books. Well, 90% of them. I'm getting rid of my teenybopper books first. Eventually, I will only have a handful of books to my name. I'm slowly shifting to the electronic kind just for space and I don't like it. There is so much comfort in holding a book, fingering a page and hearing that little "shhh" sound when you turn the page. O well.<br />
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I took a nose dive in the emotions department last week. I woke up with the weight of the universe on my shoulders. While BabyG watched cartoons I cried softly out of her eye view. I gave her weak smiles and contemplated living. It scared me to even entertain the thought of leaving her behind. I instantly felt guilt. I didn't feel safe being her main caregiver for the day. I felt distracted and distant. I felt worthless and found it difficult to breath. My depression was a steady wool hat around my ears but this was different. I had pulled the wool hat over my face and was now choking on it. This was unacceptable. I mustered the courage to get out of the house. I put BabyG in her car-seat and she smiled big, she loves getting out of the house. I kissed her and labored to get into the truck like my back was going to break from all the weight on me at any moment. I slowly drove to town and quickly BabyG fell asleep in the car. I parked in the mall parking-lot and decided to wait out her nap. I kept the car running because it was a very hot day. I cried and let myself break down a bit. I let the feeling wave over me and my shoulders slumped. I placed my forehead on the steering wheel and my mind kept slipping back to those mothers who have killed their children. Did they feel like this? Should I drop BabyG off with someone? No, that was a dark place I could never bring myself to go. In that moment I related to these people though, who may have felt at their wits end. It disgusted me that I could even entertain the idea that what they did could be rationalized. There is no excuse for harming a child.<b> None.</b><br />
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Then I sobbed because I thought of such horrible things.<br />
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Let me say this:<u><b> <span style="font-size: x-large;">I never once contemplated hurting my daughter.</span></b></u><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
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I watched her sleep and counted her breaths. I sobbed in the parking lot. I searched for help lines and considered calling one. This is the level of depressed I had been only a handful of times in my life. Each time I seemed to swim to the surface and after a couple days I could function fully and laugh at the idea of being suicidal. This day was different. I have a family now. I have a small child. My daughter gives hugs now and says, "Ooooo Nooooo" when you seem sad. She'll give you big, open mouthed, slobbery kisses and squeeze your neck. She will turn her head in confusion and give you a smile in hopes to make you smile back at her. To rob the world of such a beautiful soul would be more of a crime than taking me out of the living game. I broke down and sent Hubby a couple worrisome messages. I tried not to let on how severe my depression had dipped. I had fallen off the cliff and was falling, falling, falling into oblivion. BabyG was the beacon helping me stay connected to the real world.<br />
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BabyG stirred and whined. She was pissed that she was still in her car-seat. I parked closer to the mall and got out. I put her in her stroller and she seemed pleased with that. I gathered myself and approached the mall like I was going into battle. I did laps around the mall until I felt human again. I had removed the choking depression fog away from me and the rain cloud overhead had seemed to clear up. I did a couple more laps just to make sure. I may have decided to become a mall walker but there are definitely worse lows to have in ones life. BabyG loved the people watching. Seeing the rustling bags of consumerism being carried around by midday shoppers. I lamented about working there and tried to decide what I want to do with my life. I could breath again.<br />
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I came home and threw away a bunch of stuff. I folded clothes and did a load of laundry. It has been weeks since I have done laundry... and probably months since I have folded a whole basket of laundry. What a burden I must be to Hubby. He tolerates it so well. It doesn't help that he isn't in a peppy mood these days either. What do you do when your life line is also in the same boat as you? Luckily the purging of trash and needless things made me feel liberated and more in control of my life once again. I rearranged our spare room and there was so much more space to walk around BabyG swung her arms around and "Oooo"d all over the place. I could breathe and it has been fantastic ever since. I may not be in the brightest of spirits these days but I hope to never feel that depressed for a very long time. Every day is a challenge that I gladly accept. <br />
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There is such freedom in letting go.</div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-9833968270171763012014-06-19T12:21:00.001-05:002014-06-19T17:37:37.556-05:00 Large Aspirations for Tiny Living<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Have you ever thought about selling all of your stuff and then living in your vehicle while you're on the go until you find somewhere you think would be cool for awhile?<br />
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Well, I get that itch about every six to twelve months. My husband knew this coming into this relationship. I had known him for three years before we got together and in that three year time span I moved numerous time. I've thrown away and re-accumulated material goods various times in my life. Never before have I acquired so much crap since I had a baby. Let's face it, babies get a LOT of crap. People buy a lot of crap for babies. It's ridiculous.<br />
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We are crammed into my grandmother's spare bedrooms. They are attached by a door, not a hallway, like a hotel room with a random door between walls. Well, anyway, we have a lot of shit in these two rooms on top of all the stuff that is in our large storage unit. So far we've sold our couch and various books and dvds but it's not enough. Now we are looking at building our own house... on wheels. We watched a documentary on NetFlix about a <a href="http://tiny-themovie.com/" target="_blank">tiny house</a> being built and one of our friend's in Louisiana is currently raising money to start his tiny house project. After a short discussion, we decided that it would probably be the quickest way for us to get back on our feet and live cheaply until we can afford more. <br />
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We are still beyond broke right now but our <a href="http://www.ebay.com/sch/geektasticdad/m.html?_nkw=&_armrs=1&_ipg=&_from=" target="_blank">eBay account</a> has picked up some speed and we are actively selling everything we own. I'm so tired of clutter and failure. I am in a roller coaster of depression. I feel really happy and fine with everything one day and then the next it's a struggle to get out of bed and smile at BabyG. It's just been a tough year and next year isn't looking so shiny either. It's June and we are quickly coming up on being here for a year with nothing if not less to show for our move back home. <br />
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I can't live with my grandmother anymore. I just... can't. The religious bullshit and the feeding my baby complete shit foods is over. I am constantly biting my tongue and reminding myself of the appreciation that she has put up with us for this long and I should be grateful. Instead, <i><b>I feel punished.</b></i> I feel very well punished for moving back home. It makes it easy to want to move elsewhere and never look back. With a tiny home, we can at least set up in an RV park or national park somewhere until we find land to permanently be. We will have a house that is ours. I will have my privacy from my family back. We can be heathens in peace.<br />
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I've been trying to sell things on etsy and I got the idea of giving away our possessions via donation. Due to etsy's guidelines the main item has to be handmade so it will be, but along with the handmade item I will send you a coffee mug, a DVD, a candleholder, a book, a baby toy... something of ours that we won't be able to take into our next chapter of living. I only have the surprise set for <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/192911473/10-dollar-surprise?ref=shop_home_active_3" target="_blank">$10</a> but if it picks up steam I'll add bigger amounts and the surprise will get bigger along with it. I just don't want to feel like we're asking for donations. This route isn't a donation-- it's a purchase. You're helping purchase my family's home. You will literally get a piece of our material life in exchange for funds towards our future. We are thinking about joining a fundraiser website though. I'm beginning to think for large donations we will also offer our worldly goods to those who give us a hefty amount. I'm just so ready to be back on our feet. We are both working now but it's not enough to unbury ourselves from the debt we have created.</div>
SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-16982912835831796212014-06-05T09:47:00.000-05:002014-06-05T12:33:05.840-05:00An Open Horizon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Okay, Okay... so I just wanted to drop a quick note to all my lady friends.<br>
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I've noticed a shift in the last year. I've stopped watching talk shows and only read Parenting magazine, so that may be the shift I've seen.... but still. The shift is an empowerment amongst us gals. I partially blame the gay movement. Why? Because you pretty ladies are emerging with your chopped off hair, boy pants and no make up. You are kissing your partners and the world took notice to how damn sexy you tend to be while doing it.<br>
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Lesbians are making hetero women realize they were mislead on what "real" beauty is meant to look like. Well, labels aside... you can tell the shift is style. It's kind of 80s grunge and I love it. Our teenagers are showing us adults how it's done. Tegan and Sara are setting a prime example of beauty beyond the magazines. Hell, the phenomenon of the <a href="https://www.google.com/?gws_rd=ssl#q=philippines+transgender+pageant" target="_blank">Philippines Transgender Pageant</a> have shown us that the beauty of a women is an open horizon. <br>
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So lets take this moment to smile at our beautiful bodies and faces. Let's caress our stretch marks from birth like honor. Let us make cosmo and other fluff magazines sell us health food instead of quick fix creams. Ladies, take a look around you. <span style="font-size: large;"><i>Skinny isn't in-- being healthy and loving yourself IS!</i></span><br>
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Now that I have a daughter I realize more and more how critical my mother was of my sister and I growing up. My mother is a bit of a control freak (she's gotten a lot better since my adolescence) so she just wanted us to be like her, which is understandable... but even with that said, I'd much rather my daughter be with the fringe crowd and dress in clothes from goodwill than be with the cool kids in the name brand clothes. It takes more confidence to overcome the Mean Girls than to join them.<br>
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In middle school I use to come home and cry for hours because of what was said to me. I would leave the house with my sister teasing me and then spend hours at school hearing about my appearance from others. I'd hear about who was wearing make up and who had sex over the weekend. One of my close friends was going to the tanning bed every day with her mother. I felt consumed with my outsides and it made my insides twist with confusion.<br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><b>"If I wore lipstick maybe he'll notice me."</b></i></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><b>"If I wore different jeans maybe she'd be nice to me at school tomorrow."</b></i></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><b>"If I bought different shoes maybe I could sit with the cool kids at lunch."</b></i></span></span><br>
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By the time I turned fifteen I had already had sex, began painting my toe nails and would spend hours in front of a mirror trying to fix my hair just right. That is entirely too young to have had sex already. I had been sexualized by peer pressures about my appearance. It seems a lot of people don't see that connection. If you start out your child giving them stern gender barriers: <br>
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<b>"No, Timmy, only <i>girls</i> play with dolls."</b></div>
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<b>"No, Dana, only <i>boys </i>like the color blue."</b> </div>
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You make them define themselves purely by their <i>gender</i> and not by their <i>interests</i>. You are restricting them from expression and forcing them into roles that are way past due to be shattered.<br>
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By forcing your kid into the role of "male" and "female" instead of "baby", "child" and "teenager" you are telling them to act out roles of <i><b>"female is submissive to her male counterpart"</b></i> and <b><i>"have sex to keep your man interested"</i></b> because those are the examples we are giving our children at home and in the media. If you make your daughter define herself as a girl instead of a person, she'll follow all those <i>Top Girl fashions</i> and <i>Girls Guide to Sex</i> lists. Now, I'm not saying that it won't happen regardless and preteens are already developing their personalities and have their own opinions about things already. I'm just saying-- maybe it'll show our teenagers that finding <span style="font-size: large;">themselves</span> and loving <span style="font-size: large;">themselves</span> is <span style="font-size: large;">more important</span> than finding what's in each others pants?<br>
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<b>[Quick Disclosure]</b> I'm speaking purely on personal experience and theory.<br>
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Maybe it was because I was raised in a very religious home. Maybe it's because I grew up in a small town and there wasn't much else for young people to do but explore other people's bodies, get involved in drugs or get a job. Luckily, I chose the job route. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and no matter how many showers I took I swore my hair still smelled like cheeseburgers. I didn't respect myself though, I sought love through affection because I knew of no other way. <u>I had been taught that love comes from the outside in, not the inside out.</u> That is what I wish to never impose on my daughter. Why did it take me years in my twenties to realize that I had to love myself first? Why didn't someone tell me before hand?<br>
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O yeah, that's right, I was told jesus would make me happy and that's the only way I could find love. Way to give everyone insecurities and not let them trust their own instincts, jesus. <u><b>What a douchebag</b></u>. I didn't know of anything else. I was told if I put on my sunday best (outward appearance), gave my heart to god (outside source), and love him first (outside source) maybe I could be happy (inside) the rest of my life. Instead, it took me reversing that list and omitting religion all together before I felt comfortable with myself and began to love myself full on. I worked hard on getting to where I am today with my body. I'm still thirty or so pounds over what I was when I made this revelation but I realize I've had a baby and I don't let a little thing like baby weight make me reconsider my love for myself. I remember what it took to get to where I loved myself and I plan on revisiting those things to nurture my love.<br>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Every relationship needs attention, even the relationship with yourself. </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">That's just my insight for today. Pass this on to someone you know struggling to find love through someone else. You can love yourself and still want to change things about yourself. Only you should be allowed to make those decisions about yourself anyway.</span> </div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-14715112730420103842014-05-12T16:11:00.001-05:002014-05-12T16:13:37.620-05:00In the Rip Current<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The funny thing about depression is that it isn't funny.<br />
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Okay, crappy joke... but you get my point.<br />
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I've been struggling with depression since I was a preteen. A lot of reading and self awareness has kept me alive this long. Some could say that it was just regular teenage angst or "everyone gets sad". Both of those could be true, I suppose, for someone else. What I'm feeling is debilitating. I keep telling myself to not be sad about what I haven't done but for what I've tried and failed.<br />
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I try to remind myself that there are always worse ways to live. I keep telling myself that I'm making things worse by being so negative about it all. Depression is when all of these rationalities gleefully dance on the surface while all the despair and anguish fester in the depths. Being depressed feels like you are carrying the world when someone has only asked you for a sip of water. I feel as though I'm drowning. Physically. I got caught in a rip current once as a kid, I know the feeling of swimming with all my might and not moving an inch forward. I know the feeling of gasping for air only to catch a mouth full of water. I know the feeling of helplessness. These are all the feelings I am feeling now. My chest is tight, my knees are weak and all I can bring myself to do is cry.<br />
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A normal person, a non-depressed person, would dust themselves off and have their pity-party for one day or maybe even a few hours and then drag themselves into the momentum of living a fully functioning life. Depression is knowing what you need to do (or in some cases being so lost in the depression you can't see a way out) but not finding the energy or even the self-worth to pursue it.<br />
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Today, today I put a foot forward even though I feel like both legs are broken. We discussed selling everything we own to maybe grab a chance to put a roof over our heads again. I just got to a place where I could be fond of my material goods again... just in time to decide who fucking cares anymore. I had gotten to where I could pack my entire existence into a tiny hatchback car. A car smart cars would park beside because they looked like my car but micro. I can do that again. I can. At a moments notice I was ready to pack all of my shit up and cross state lines looking for somewhere else to live paycheck to paycheck. I've gotten that feeling again. This time, I have a family. I have a husband that hugs me and kisses my forehead when I am sobbing uncontrollably because I can't muster the energy or the self-worth to go out in public. I have a baby that was kissing my knee and hugging my arm because I was too sad to lift my head. I have support in the form of my family. A family I chose. When I was crying out of reflex I opened my text messages to whine to someone about my woes and then I looked up to see Hubby, staring at me with worried eyes. I put my phone down and told him what I was going to text whoknowswho. I realized if I want the kind of life partner that I can express not only the good but the bad too, then I should do that. So I did.<br />
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I wish I could say it's all magically better now. I wish I could say in that moment he got a call for an amazing job with a starter bonus... but this isn't the movies. This isn't a witty coming of age film. This isn't the hallmark channel.<br />
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Last week my grandmother told me that if I didn't believe in god then I'd have no one to turn to. I took it as her saying she is only helping us as much as she is only because her bible told her so; if we needed anything else we were shit out of luck. I suppose she was right. It seems that in this town, unless you have a bible in your hand and attend church on Sunday our bum luck happened to us because we were smited by god for denying his love into our heart. My grandmother's church is busy hosting events and going door to door asking for money to help support their mission act in Jamaica. So you see my issue with religion and how I feel the people of Jamaica are being bribed into a religion. It's cruel for me to watch. It's cruel when someone offers me prayer instead of networking to find my husband a job or them even giving me five dollars. I'd rather take a few quarters than hear you'll pray for me, kthanx.<br />
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I understand the power of persuasion and how you can convince yourself that everything will be okay and it can make you fix your situation because you encouraged yourself through persuasion to make it happen. I get it. Prayer can work that way (scientifically, though psychology) because you are putting into words your desires that can manifest them into real things through self persuasion. I get that. This is the reason I like to make lists. Lists would be my version of prayer. There is a song a fell in love with a few years ago and it's hook says, "If you talk about it, it's a show/ but if you move about it, then it's a go." I wrote that sentence on the top of my bathroom mirror and read it every day. I listened to the song while I ran and day dreamed about the future. I made lists under the sentence of things I wanted to complete. I completed the list one by one. Where has my drive gone? I guess I never expected to find myself back in this place. I always kind of saw myself a drift at sea awaiting for my anchor. My anchor being now Hubby. I was never sure what the anchor would be-- Marriage and baby were far down the list. I was aspiring for a great job or some venture. I could have ended up in school again or in a job I liked or liked enough to pay my bills. I could've sold everything I owned to buy a plane ticket to a place I could find a way to live.<br />
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Now that my anchor is also afloat I worry I'm losing my grip on the reality I had created for myself. I guess in a way I'm disappointed in myself for becoming so dependent on someone else. My mother always told me to never let a man control my life, financially or otherwise. "Always have a way out." She'd say. "Never let them get the best of you." She'd say. I let that go deep to my core. I always had an exit door. I moved to Alaska with enough cash for a one way ticket home stuffed in my pocket. I moved to Greensboro without a love interest in sight. For years my roommates were never romantical but purely financial need. My car was in my name so I always had a way out. Don't misread me-- I have no intentions of leaving my marriage. My point is: If I had kept with my #1 rule than maybe I would have had a platform to fall back on instead of all of us being in this situation. I wouldn't have had to depend on someone else because no matter what our connection I would have enough to just barely keep our head afloat. I feel like I failed. Worse, I failed my family. I can't even be suicidal because I have a daughter and husband that would suffer the most. I just feel shitty, all the way around. Shitty. I'm at the ultimate bottom of my emotional strength. I'm spent.<br />
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So, I guess what I'm saying is... buy my shit, help a mother out. Or pray for me... whatever you think will help me out most.<br />
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>By pray for me, I mean buy my shit.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/KnitHippy" target="_blank">Etsy</a></span> | <span style="background-color: #d9ead3;"><a href="http://www.ebay.com/usr/geektasticdad" target="_blank">eBay</a></span></span></span></div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-76467170669630843242014-03-25T16:30:00.000-05:002014-05-12T16:39:40.678-05:00An Open Letter to my Brother-in-Law and his Mistress<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How do I begin a letter to someone that has caused my family such distress in these last few weeks and my dear sister for half of my lifetime? What do I say to begin a blog that I have been forming in my head for days? I've got so much material I'm almost buried in the filth you have so easily tossed my way.<br />
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I guess I could address why an open letter. Why I would choose such a public domain for all to see and revisit often? Why would I blog about something so personal and not pertaining to me? I've often said in my blog that my one major rule is to only blog about myself and my problems. This isn't Gossip Girl and I'm not out to whine like a teenager about adult subjects.<br />
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Truth is, this is a situation that pertains to me; my mother; my grandmother... my family. You see, when you enter into a family as close as ours, you marry all of us. You become our brother, our son, our grandson and nephew. I was just thirteen when my sister brought you home for the first time to meet us. When you got my sister pregnant that pretty much concreted you in to our family. No matter how that pregnancy happened or how young you both were, that did it. After thirteen years of being in our family how do you expect us to act? My sister has done an amazing job keeping your actions private. Believe what you want but we all had formed our own opinions of you without her validating your worth amongst us. My mother sobbed because she felt not only robbed of a son but violated through her daughter. I cannot overlook that.<br />
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I'm aware that you can list freely how you feel my sister has wronged you, or sold you short. I'm sure you are capable of listing various reasons of why you felt what you were doing was completely justified. Through this entire process (and this is just the very beginning) you have shown us how arrogant and entitled you are. You haven't seen any wrong in your actions. You are so blinded by your own lies I have come to the conclusion that truth is but a stranger to you. Your truth is the holy gospel. Your truth is the beginning and the end. I use biblical references only because you are an atheist and I'm hoping it gives you some reference to where your truth lies. (No pun intended... okay, maybe a little.) I guess what I'm trying to say is that no matter how you spin this, your truth has already been tainted and therefore hold no ground with me. I can speak for my entire family in this: I assure you no one was too surprised by your cheating ways. Not because we were told or your name was whispered under our breaths, but because of your actions. I can only assume you were trying to tell us without using your words. I prefer words. Words can only have power when there is truth behind them though, and well, we know how you are about the truth.<br />
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This letter isn't about slander or that cyber bullying stuff you so honestly think I'm capable of. (No threats or angry emails from me, thanks for letting me know my limitations before legal action can take place.) This letter is about feelings. Feelings of disappointment and discontent. You disappointed our family at almost every turn. It's a relief to know that my sister won't have to put up with your disgraceful and disrespectful antics any longer. I'm happy that you got busy with one bar bang too many. I'm grateful that this is soon going to be a funny story we tell over drinks to my sister's future boyfriend. No matter how in the future, I know my sister will find love again. Don't you worry about that. Thank you for giving her a glowing example of what not to look for and red flags that may point out that he isn't the one for her. I'm getting ahead of myself now. O, right... feelings. From what you've stated about my family and I, one can only assume you believe us to be these hillbilly rednecks with fifth grade educations. Your internet diploma must have really boosted your ego. Sadly, such pieces of paper didn't boost your integrity as a person.<br />
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Your actions affect us furthermore through who you chose to procreate with in the Midwest. Luckily for you, the allegations of that other child was with a much more passive individual. This woman, whom I shall refer to as your mistress in this letter, has a bit of spunk to her. She's not that big on networking like I am so I'm sure she had much more to read about me than I of her. I can only speak of the time I communicated with her directly, but what I read of her I was not impressed. I'm not here to speculate on how you found each other or even why you chose to keep her pregnancy a secret when it could have been an opportunity for you to come clean to all parties involved. All of those things are irrelevant at this point, and as you said, don't pertain to me. In the forefront of this I felt this woman was also a victim to your truths and felt pity for her. As a new mother myself, I couldn't imagine going through all it means to be a mother on my own. I felt a kindred bond with her through motherhood and having an infant. So you see, disappointment crept in when she showed up on my newsfeed on facebook (a public place, filled with people that you have referred to mercilessly as people that don't matter to you.) tagging you in various things and commenting as a current sweetheart. She became a criminal in this as she forced her way into my life as proud mother to your illegitimate child. Her entitlement overshadowed the gravity of releasing such information into the wild. In a way, she helped you out by not making you the "bad guy" and blabbing it all over the internet. She was your scapegoat. You had a relationship with this woman and saw no consequence, nor did she. Now as I was saying... at first, this woman meant nothing to me. This woman had done nothing to me directly and if she had been lied to she was a victim much like my sister.<br />
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Then the assault on my sister orchestrated so artfully by the both of you to try and drag my sister into an internet fight to address this issue was disrupted by me. I stepped in and spoke up because I was disgusted by the display you both proudly plastered all over to all of your mutual and oblivious friends to gawk at. I'm here to tell you that you can't have both.<br />
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As a millennial, I can easily speak from experience of the internet sticking an ugly finger into my real life. You can't put something on the internet and expect opinions to be kept to themselves or even to remove said information and think everyone will pretend it never happened. The internet has created this faceless place to sling hurtful words and "notifications" at each other with an assumption of minor if not any repercussions. Your mistress was quick to do such attacking and you enabled her by adding her to your facebook and anchoring her into our lives. You see how this became my problem? How she was brought into my life even though I had no desire to get this deep into "your" business? You should think of the internet as inviting a bunch of people to a party to tell them a bit of information you wish them to be apart of. You have now allowed the members of this party into your business. If there is anyone that you should be mad at about telling your business to those that aren't in your deemed circle of "need to know parties", it would be your mistress. I am simply doing my job as a sister and aunt by sticking up for a family that is my family and my business.<br />
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So you see, my problem with you is my problem with you. My problem with you stems from your actions. You disappointed me because I thought we were on the mend from our already volatile friendship. I don't expect you to view this as what it really is (a simple explanation) so I expect some more threats from you and that's fine. There are various ways to contact me and all of them will be well documented... although I don't have anything else productive to discuss with you. I've said all I wanted to say.<br />
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With Future Indifference,<br />
Your new ex-sister</div>
SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-37068301348584451582014-03-19T21:09:00.001-05:002014-05-12T16:20:40.044-05:00Unplug.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I am on my phone entirely too much.</div>
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I am watching television entirely too much. </div>
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I'm neglecting life by senseless distractions. I worry that I'm missing my daughter's first years because I'm too busy matching up three or more vegetables or candy or whatever. </div>
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I've burned out three phone backlights. You know that thing that makes your phone light up so you can see what you're doing? Yeah, that. I kill those. With my constant googling of celebrities and idle gaming. I feel controlled and consumed and it's stifling. I'm addicted in a bad way.</div>
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First step is owning it. Well, I'm owning it. I have a problem. I'm going to take a step or a dozen back from electronics. More music, less gaming. I will be deleting certain Facebook app based games and stream my podcasts more and music. I'm going to strive for less and less time holding my phone. My eyes hate me. I get headaches from staring down at this screen. I'm going to put my lifeproof case back on. (It makes my phone harder to use, I hate that thing.)</div>
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I will take my life back... <i>with gusto.</i></div>
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I feel like I can't focus on what's important because of this damn phone. Well, that ends tonight. It's supposed to be a beautiful day tomorrow. I plan to be out in it. I cannot wait for spring to be in full swing. I'm so tired of being cold. I'm tired of being inside. I go somewhere and I'm still inside. I think BabyG is stir crazy too.</div>
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Ooooo, to be under the sun again.</div>
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Augh, I guess I'm a bit manic today. </div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-28309245522776267132014-03-04T09:11:00.001-06:002014-05-12T16:29:03.555-05:00Bury it in the backyard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Anger takes so much out of me.</div>
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Its exhausting to be this angry all day. Sleep is but a whisper when I need so much if it. Coffee just stirs the acids in my stomach and gives me cramps. My lack of sleep just makes me more angry.</div>
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Vague anger has swallowed up anything I post on Facebook. Surely, my friends think Hubby and I are on the extreme outs. (Which isn't true, my anger has nothing to do with him.)</div>
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My body is seizing up and I constantly feel very dehydrated. This anger is wearing me like a wet suit. Clinging to every crevice and nothing can escape. I'm being swallowed whole in my own dismal outlook. Anger has become me and I have become anger. I get the shakes and find it hard to be happy about anything. This is real.</div>
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<a href="http://livingbehindthegates.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/hitchcock-digging-grave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://livingbehindthegates.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/hitchcock-digging-grave.jpg" height="320" width="271" /></a>My reason for anger isn't happening to me-- directly. By proxy I am exposed to the source of my main discomfort. Exposed like radiation poisoning or mustard gas. This toxic air has climbed into my brain and is slowly melting me down to be reformed. I hate this person I am because of all this anger but I can't avoid it so I embraced it and now I'm suffering the dire consequences. </div>
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I've been told that if "<i>they</i>" know you're angry than "they" won. What if "<i>they</i>" got to feel my anger and lose too?</div>
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Oooo, if only.</div>
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I need to find an outlet soon. I need to let this anger drain from me so I can bury it deep in the back yard as I cackle like the crazy bitch I am.</div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-89867128324321907582014-03-01T09:43:00.001-06:002014-05-12T16:29:44.314-05:00The Medium in the Candle Shop (Dream)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I had a weird supernatural dream last night.<br />
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It was set in New Orleans (I miss that place so much) and I was a medium. I was going to different shops and had an appointment with a young woman that worked at a candle shop. As soon as I walked in one of her co-workers recognized me and hurried me to the back to the lady I had the appointment with. I suddenly felt very sad.<br />
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"It's your lover that passed away." I said without the lady telling me. She nodded solemnly and her coworker took a seat behind me.<br />
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I turned to the coworker, "Excuse me, Miss, but this is a private appointment." As I blinked I saw the deceased lover in a family embrace with the coworker. The coworker had bent her head down and softly began to cry, "If its okay with the miss here you can sit in. I didn't realize he was your brother."<br />
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Both lady's eyes grew with amazement. I felt like I was wearing a grown man like the Native Americans wore skinned animals, head as a hat, while hunting or in ceremony. This man that these two ladies wanted so desperately to hear from was all around me. I inhaled him through my nostrils and choked on his cologne and skin. I felt like I was consuming him in the same way regurgitating him. His essence swirled around me like a tornado. It was hard to see what was in the room because the deceased came through so strongly. I tried to choose my words carefully. "His life was cut short." Both ladies nodded, the lover remaining silent. I gasp, they flinch. "You're pregnant." I gesture towards the lover, very careful not to touch her.<br />
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"What now?" The coworker/sister of the deceased questions.<br />
"I- I- I was gong to tell you. He didn't even know. I didn't know if I was going to..." The lover softly cried for a moment and then continued her sentence, "keep it."<br />
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Suddenly the radio in the back turned on and it was a pretty familiar rap song (that of course I can't remember the title of now) but it wasnt the original artist, it was the deceased. The coworker gasps and calls the deceased by name. My spine tightens and I fight the choking coughs building up in my throat.<br />
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I suddenly begin sobbing.<br />
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The lover asks me, "Does he want me to keep this baby? I don't know if I can do this alone."<br />
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I can hear the sister screaming in her mind, it was outweighing her brother's message. I turn to the sister, "Can you please start humming the ABCs to yourself? Your opinion doesn't matter at the moment." The sister twists her mouth and I can feel the itch of her humming the children's tune and I change gears to focus on the lover and the deceased. Speaking his name stirred something. Like the deceased was there in secret and his sister had just blown his cover. I continue sobbing and feel a firm hug around me.<br />
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"He's hugging me because he says he can't get to you. Hes hugging you through me. He says you are the love of his life and no matter what his sister says he will be there for you and your son. He will help guide him through his life and he will hold your hand on those exhausting sleepless nights. He hopes you and his sister will form a bond." As I said bond I knew the sister and lover would become romantically involved in a matter of years. It felt awkward and uncomfortable but after a few years they would settle as a beautiful family with a healthy relationship. The lover will fall in love with the similarities between the deceased and his sister. The little boy will just be happy to have two loving parents. A rush of wind and sunshine swirled around me. I began to smile as the ladies begged to know what I saw but I knew I had seen too much to tell. Futures are subject to change but in the moment their futures were cut and dry. I knew emotionally they weren't in the right mind to believe me so I would keep that sliver of sunshine to myself. Just as the room got extremely bright for me a sudden darkness emerged and I began gasping for air.<br />
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"A darkness. A darkness follows him." I turned to the sister, "Your father. He is trying to choke out the deceased's spirit. He wants to drain his essence so he can't remain on this side with you two. He wants to--" a loud explosion was heard and we all fell out of our seats. We all gather ourselves and I am still wearing their brother as a headdress so its hard for me to get back up on my feet. I finally emerge from the little room and right then Hubby comes in with some shopping bags and comes right to me. We kiss and thats when I noticed the walls blown out of the front of the shop.I knew it was the dark spirit. I told Hubby we needed to run because the dark spirit was after me and then another explosion happened.<br />
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I jerked awake and the dream has stuck with me. I had such power and mental capacity! But the burden... it was such a weight on my shoulders. Just thought I'd share. </div>
SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-9210711164703291542014-02-26T14:37:00.001-06:002014-02-26T15:31:57.332-06:00Push Play<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Okay, Okay... I'm so tired of teetering. I lose ten pounds and then I gain it back. I lose fifteen, then I gain it back.<br />
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Since we've moved into my Grandmother's house I've felt like my life is on pause. My baby weight, our living space, my work out schedule... everything. Everything has come to an abrupt halt. I thought, "It'll just be a few months. No sweat."<br />
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<i><b>Five months later</b></i>... it's a different story.<br />
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I used the excuse, <i>"She buys such crap food, it's hard for me to not eat it." </i><br />
<b>The reality:</b> I have a box of pop-tarts sitting beside me. No, not a regular eight pack of pop tars. I'm talking a<i> <b>104 count</b> diaper box</i> full of pop-tarts. Roughly eight boxes of pop tarts I've couponed for. Not to mention the bags of candy I bring into the house. If it's a snickers, I'm going to eat it. I can't just let it lay around the house.<br />
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Guess what I'm getting at is I'm sabotaging myself... no matter how much I want to blame my sweet Grandma. I've always stated that you can't control anyone else just yourself and how you react to said person. I can take this into play in this scenario too.<b> I have to.</b> </div>
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I think a lot of this is my grandmother's love affair with bread. I can't blame her-- I have it too. I simply do not buy the things filled with gluten that she does. Gluten is an agitater. It makes you swell. It makes your body retain more water than it needs. Not only that but it makes me depressed. I don't know if that's a scientific proven thing or just me, personally. I can tell a difference in my emotional state when I have eaten less gluten. I don't feel as weighed down. I get hungry really fast after eating primarily bread. I know all of these things but yet I keep stuffing my face full like a poverish english boy that just made off with a stack of rolls.<br />
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The Gluten-free fad is growing fast because people not only realize how great they feel after eating gluten-free but they're losing weight too! Now, I know Hubby is reading this and Hubby don't freak out! I'm not planning on going gluten free (yet... heh.) but cut down considerably. No more waiting around. No more excuses. (I say this while I'm eating cereal.. augh) I need to at least start eating better. Better is good. I can go all crazy when I can control the complete contents of my kitchen. I need to make the changes so I can eat those little debbie snacks<i> occasionally</i>.... or a whole pint of Ben & Jerrys.<br />
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I'm just... augh. <i>Over it</i>. I did my first yoga class in years and it has awaken the old me. It was soooo much easier than what I anticipated. I'm challenging myself to stop wearing yoga pants every day. I want to be able to fit into regular pants again... happily. The only way to really push myself is to stop the delusions and accept the truth. Accept the truth and move on.<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">I've now pushed <span style="background-color: #d9ead3; color: #38761d;">Play</span>!</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">C'mon life, lets live!</span></i></b></div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-15957179763256872792014-02-13T21:36:00.001-06:002014-02-26T15:27:18.027-06:00Valentine's Day is for schmucks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Okay, okay... before you just write this off as yet <b><i>another</i></b> anti-valentine's blog hear me out. </div>
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First off: I think every gift giving relationship "holiday" is complete bullshit.<i> Yes, even anniversaries.</i></div>
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<b>Why? </b>You ask.<br />
Here's why. Those days weigh so heavy on men and Significant Others. Those specificed Hallmark-fuelled days socially sets them up to fail. So much hype and comparisons make for a lot of disappointment.</div>
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You want to take some pressure off of your relationship? Abandon all gift giving sub-holidays for a year. Depending on your religion, I'm talking: anniversaries, Valentine's day and birthdays. Yes-- BIRTHDAYS! </div>
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If its a group gift giving holiday (Christmas/Yule/Kwanzaa/etc) then I say go ahead. Dont go big though, and for fucks sake-- if you give your SO and engagement ring for Christmas DON'T let that be the <b>only</b> gift you give her. An engagement ring is NOT a replacement gift. Engagement rings are a whole different thing. </div>
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Honestly, if you <b><i>are</i></b> going to give <i>any</i> gift on Valentine's Day I'd say an engagement ring would be it. Otherwise, gift schmift.</div>
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I guess that just blurs things over.</div>
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I think its wrong to expect anything for Valentine's Day if you aren't going to return the favor. </div>
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"Valentine's Day is just for the women." Is such utter bullshit. Take it from someone who has been on both sides of that argument: Valentine's Day is a Hallmark-fuelled holiday used to guilt you into rewarding your SO for sticking around. </div>
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If you're going to buy your love interest flowers do it because they had a bad day or because <b>you </b>had a bad day. If you're going to buy that person you've been crushing on for awhile a bear that says something dumb but cute on it, do it because you don't know how else to tell her/him how you feel NOT because of some magic day of the year that says you're obligated to. </div>
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I guess gift giving in general on certain days has always been lost on me. I've been known to show up at a friend's house with flowers because I knew it'd brighten their mood. I've bought expensive things that I knew my SO needed but couldn't afford in the middle of May just because I loved them. But Valentine's Day.... On Valentine's Day I'd sulk and watch zombie movies while I pounded beers and <i>threatened</i> them to force me to leave the house. I'd avoid conversations of, "What did you get for Valentine's?" and the aisles of red, pink puke-worthy items. I've always loathed the idea of forced obligations and worthless guilt over pointless bullshit. </div>
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Okay, not everyone feels that way and I pissed off nearly every girlfriend I had during February (the boyfriends did a happy dance) but I didn't care. It wasn't a trick and I never acted pissed if they had a gift for me. I get how Valentine's Day can be sweet and can bring out the sweetness in someone who usually isn't sweet... but for me, not so much. Valentine's Day tends to apply such unneeded pressure on a relationship. </div>
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So relax. This year, call V-Day off and hang out with friends wether you're in a relationship or not. Honestly, if your SO gets super miffed about an anti-valentine's day then s/he probably isn't worth it anyway. Love can happen all year, sweetness and kindness can flourish no matter what day or phase the moon is in. Valentine's Day is society pressuring you to be that dude on the commercial with sweaty palms and a pointless stuffed animal while he scrambles to find a dinner reservation at the last minute. Don't be that dude.</div>
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<b><span style="background-color: #ead1dc;"><span style="font-size: large;">Just </span><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">love</span><span style="font-size: large;">... everyday... just </span><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">love</span><span style="font-size: large;">. </span></span></b></div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-71389069511905189702014-02-05T17:05:00.001-06:002014-02-26T15:15:08.091-06:00Rainbows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.</div>
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Who's this bitch and why won't she shut the hell up????</div>
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That's right. My inner bitch is raging today. Well, my inner bitch and Emo are having a knife fight. No one is winning, its an equal dispute. </div>
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Today has been bad. Bad, with a capital B and that itch part. I say then but then I recite the abridged: Hubby and I snapped at each other, BabyG cried incessantly for hours while I cried to myself for an hour or two on and off. Not so terrible, though... from your point of view.</div>
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I have been actually been woe-is-meing to my SIL who is IN THE HOSPITAL waiting to be released because she had a baby (in a different state) and here I am whining because my baby is giving me a run for my money today. This is her fourth kid so I pretty much view her as a Goddess because her kids are still alive, clean most of the time and aren't a complete wreck... and she is enough out of my loop to give me advice without thinking I'm judging her or vice versa. I feel guilty for my bitchfest while shes all a glow and rightfully having a little break from the chaos of multiple kids close in age.</div>
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Exhale. Just breath, aaauuuughhhh.</div>
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I want to chug a bottle of wine and eat all the chocolate in the universe and then sob because I'm a fat, drunken disaster. I want to bring my emotional mess a tangable and real thing. Sooooooo much negativity and stuff!!!!!!!</div>
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I went for a drive and BabyG dozed off. Now shes sleep whimpering and I'm weighing out my day and trying to get my positivity back. I feel like I dont often have a awful day so I should be grateful for that. I'm grateful that I have the type of husband that would get out of his truck because he sees me crying after we argued on his way out the door. He came back in the house to kiss me and tell me he loves me. He didn't want to leave on a sour note. Grateful. Grateful because I have a healthy baby that is getting teeth and is strong enough I caught her standing without assistance in her crib. Grateful I have enough gas in my car to drive her around. Grateful I have a supportive family and in-laws. </div>
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See, thats better. What a nice little ray of sunshine. </div>
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Being a new parent is hard. Getting interference from negative know-it-alls just makes it harder. I'm very glad I have who I have in my circle. I've also started unfollowing people on my Facebook feed that are constantly bitching about how the world doesn't lick their asshole and little birdies dont help them get dressed before the big Royal Ball. That's helped, a lot. </div>
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....Just rainbows amongst all this rain.</div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-70380195708202207942013-12-31T08:35:00.001-06:002014-02-26T15:23:32.080-06:00Make Goals Not Resolutions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Let's do something a little different this year.</span></b></div>
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If you've been trying to get the same thirty pounds off for the last five years maybe its time to sing a different song?</div>
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I recall my senior year of highschool every New Years Eve. Well, the day before break it seemes like every teacher wanted to go around the room asking everyone's resolutions. Everyone laughed when I said my resolution was to never make a resolution again. They thought I was a cop out or "cheating." But honestly its the easiest decision I've made of my life.</div>
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Lets face it, most people neglect their resolution by the time the Valentine's candy gets passed around. Even the word "resolution" sounds heavy and chore-like. The whole idea of a resolution sets you up to fail. To me, its just a way to point out how you fucked up the last year and now you need to fix it. That's looking back.</div>
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Lets look forward. </div>
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Make a goal list. I've had a goal list since I've been old enough to hold a pencil. I have lists everywhere. I make lists so I won't forget. I make lists because my mind is jumbled and I need to organize my thoughts. I make lists because they comfort me. You might not need a list. You might just need that one thing to set this new year apart from all the others. The beauty of this personal agreement is that its just that... personal.</div>
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The whole point of making goals is to attain them. Dont make goals you can't keep. (This goes back to one of my Golden Rules: Never make promises you can't keep... yes, including to yourself.) </div>
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Haven't lost that thirty pounds you keep insisting on? Set the goal to go to the gym twice a week all year. If you go more- awesome. If you go less- unacceptable, you have to make up those days the next week. If you stick to it you will more than likely lose some weight. Maybe thirty pounds-- maybe only twenty. Either way, you are attaining the goal you set for yourself! The side affect is only a positive influence on your life. </div>
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Have you been saying, "Eat healthier" for the last few years? Or "Give up the donuts and candy"? This one is easy. Instead of thinking about all the things you will be giving up or using such vague terms make the goal to use X amount of your grocery bill at a corner farmers market or that cute shack you pass every day with the guy selling vegetables. If you don't cook at home, insist on ordering a salad or steamed vegtables instead of your regular side. Thats all. I promise you, baby steps are better than no steps at all!</div>
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If you've had a rough or emotionally draining year maybe you should set the goal of, "Be happier." Simply that. Be a little more selfish. Go out more or stay in more-- whatever you fancy. Dont guilt yourself for blowing off that aunt that just brings you down. Write an inspiring song lyric or quote on your mirror or on a sticky note in your car. Use that sentence as a mantra. Smile at yourself in the mirror. Instead of going through the motions maybe you could take a day trip to hike up a hill or stare out into the ocean. If you're feeling stretched too thin have a day of the week or month that you blow everyone off and watch Netflix all day. Feel you aren't being invited to things? Start inviting people to lunch or an event. Smile at yourself the most though-- that's important.</div>
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You are a person. You are worth while. Tonight isn't about having a sweetie to kiss or a reminder that you're alone, again, for another holiday. At midnight the ground won't break apart and cathulu won't surface and it won't start raining lava and and and... tonight is another night. It won't even be midnight in other countries when its midnight where you are. Life is constantly evolving and changing. To set one unwavering resolution at the threshold of the blank canvas that is the new year-- is just silly. A lot can happen in twelve months. Just love yourself and set the goals to better yourself throughout the year. Goals are healthy and allow you to feel accomplished once you reach those goals. </div>
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Since we are throwing out resolutions this year and doing this wacky called: Taking every day as it comes. I give you a challenge for the year. Yes-- a challenge. Its a hard one so brace yourself. </div>
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<b><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">Smile more!</span></u></b></div>
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Yup, that's all I have. Smile as often as possible. Watch funny movies and smile at yourself in the mirror like you just spotted your favorite person. Just don't smile in the middle of brushing your teeth... that could get messy.</div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-67154618921261924622013-12-07T08:09:00.001-06:002014-02-26T15:13:08.316-06:00Posture Postulation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've been working on my posture. Posture is everything. It aligns your body. Posture is how people judge you.</div>
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Good posture also makes you look leaner and strengthens your abs. This is more for what I'm going for, the rest is just a bonus. </div>
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I've finally crossed the 200lb mark. Finally. I had been teetering at 202 for what seems like forever. I got pretty sick and now I'm at 197. Still coughing but I don't feel like death anymore... and my pants fit better! I count that as a win.</div>
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Well, relating to the whole posture thing... I'm slinging sandwiches again. A couple people I graduated with have came in wondering not only why am I back in my tiny hometown but why am I working at such a low paying job too. I know I'm worth more than a sub place but I'm not better than anyone who works there-- on a cosmic level. I've got a lot of work experience but food service has always been my fall back. Its an extremely easy job I can just walk right into.</div>
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I keep telling myself not to be ashamed. Smile. As least you have a job. Smile. No shame. I can't help but have lapses from the first time I worked there though. Losing my big girl job because I allowed my (at the time) alcoholic girlfriend run me into the ground. I always viewed that job as the bottom. Now maybe I'm just trying to make the best of it all. Luckily we get tips. They aren't major but they're a nice supplement and its made the slave wages not so bad. Attitudes definitely need to change though.</div>
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No matter where I've ever worked I've tried to hold a positive or neutral tone. Work is work. Work pays for my nonwork hours. Work is the penalty for having fun. Work doesn't have to feel like prison or the bottom. Work doesn't have to be a terrible thing. Quite a few people working there act like every customer that comes in is such a burden. Every chore to them is a death sentence and every rush is a grand inconvenience. It drives me batty.</div>
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I am constantly repeating to myself: Be the change you want to see. Be the change. Be the change.</div>
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Without customers there would be no job. Without busy days there would be no possibility of raises. Without chores the customers will stop coming because it's so disgusting in there... see what I'm saying? Even when I worked there before and wasn't the happiest of people I still managed to get there, do what needed to be done without much complaint and gladly accepted my paycheck. Yesterday could have been a much better day. I was so proud of myself for not letting the unnecessary anger from others bring me down. </div>
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There are much worse situations and jobs out there. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Don't let your first world problems rule your life.</b></span></div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-24903793662541502472013-11-01T10:46:00.001-05:002014-02-26T14:51:21.181-06:00Are YOU happy?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Just take a minute.</div>
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Lean back in your chair and think about your current situation. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Are you happy?</span></div>
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No... really. <i>Don't bullshit. </i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Are <b>you</b> happy?</span></div>
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Okay. Now try to narrow that answer down to yes or no. Not a gray area answer. A gritty yes or no.</div>
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<b><i><span style="background-color: #ead1dc; font-size: x-large;">Are you happy?</span></i></b></div>
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If you said <b>yes</b> with a pang of no tugging at your soul then maybe you shouldn't lie to yourself so much. What is that no? Can you fix it? Is that no a person? Would you be happier without them? Can you remove them from your life? Are you projecting your faults on that person or is this person toxic?</div>
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If you said <b>yes</b> without hesitation then maybe you should think more. <i>Dig deeper.</i> Do you like where you live? Is your job leaving you satisfied? </div>
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If you said <b>no</b> then maybe it's time for a change... no matter how uncomfortable or difficult it may be. </div>
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If you said <b>no</b> without hesitation then you should think more. Is the major part of the "no" something you could actually change? If its not in your control what can you do to move on? </div>
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<span style="background-color: #ffe599;"><b><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">News flash: You <u>cannot</u> control other people's behaviors but you </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">CAN</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> control <b>your</b> affiliation with said individual.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></i></span></div>
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I am constantly digging deep and asking myself that question: <span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Are you happy? </i></span></div>
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I ask myself in the third person because it seems to have a heavier feel to it. I try to answer as honestly as possible and go from there. I tend to make better life decisions periodically by doing this little self awareness practice. </div>
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If you aren't living life for happiness then what is the point of living?</div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-932067100182009053.post-19691672249868385832013-10-06T12:17:00.001-05:002013-10-06T13:22:43.937-05:00Victory is mine! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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BabyG is almost seven months old. I am now beginning to wear pre-pregnancy clothes. </div>
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I read in various places that since it took nine months to swell your body up with baby you MUST allow yourself at least that long for your body to get back to pre-pregnancy size. This is something that is hard for new mothers to grasp and really allow for other mothers as well.</div>
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I look at pictures of a photoshoot I did with my family and BabyG when she was barely three months old. I cringe at my double chin and maternity dress still bumpy with bloated uterus. </div>
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My BFF is a skinny-mini. When I was watching her kids they were around BabyG's age now. BFF had always been lanky and basketball player shaped but having twins separated her abs and made her belly button an outty... permanently. I'm saying all this to set the scene. Her body is forever changed by having three beautiful kids. She quickly got back to her pre-pregnancy weight and she's always looked skinny and stunning to me. With all this said: I remember going out to eat with them and after we all gorged ourselved with salty chinese food the lady at the register asked BFF if she was still pregnant. I was appalled. BFF is half my width when I am at my skinniest and this lady threw my BFF in a tailspin. Her kids were seven months old and she suddenly felt insecure about her shape and wanted to cry. </div>
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Obviously the cashier didn't know her and she did carry a little bit of bump from her separated abs but we had just ate a bunch of food! When you are a very thin person ANY amount of food makes you have a little bump. (Not that I, personally, get to experience that. I'm not naturally thin like that.) </div>
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I guess what I'm saying, at the expense of my friend as an example, that ALL body shapes take at least a year to get back to where you were before. Your body is forever changed. Studies show that having a baby forever leaves traces of that baby all throughout your body. Not just in the visible, but in your organs and even in the workings of your brain. Now, there are exceptions and various variables. I can't blanket statement this as much as society says to. </div>
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Part of me wants to feel guilt that its taken me almost seven months to squeeze my frame into my "Before BabyG" pants but the other part of me... the part that is winning... is just happy that I am fitting in those clothes from the past. My "skinny" clothes that I like to call them. </div>
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If you've had a kid you start talking in the <b>BB</b> and <b>AB</b>. (<u><b>B</b></u>efore <u><b>B</b></u>aby and <b><u>A</u></b>fter <u><b>B</b></u>aby) I find it impossible to hold women on the same playing field as BB women.. or women who can't/won't have a kid. <b>Only in the fitness realm</b>, of course. (The other stuff is an entirely different post!) </div>
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I think women who are AB need to<i> forgive</i> themselves a bit more. We are sleepless and have been living as a self-deemed whale for the last year. Maybe eating too much sweets or drinking too much sugary juice. All that fish oil you've been taking makes you retain even MORE water and <i>ohmygoshcake</i>. I ate so much birthday cake when I was pregnant and I can't even muster shame for it. I am a huge fan of <a href="http://www.jillianmichaels.com/fit/" target="_blank">Jillian Michaels</a> and she lives by an 80/20 rule. She loathes the idea and term "cheat day" and basically her theory is: Eat 80% of your calorie intake be healthy/by the rules and 20% maybe not so good for you. To take the guilt off yourself. Allow yourself that 20% and try to stick with that. I applied it to my pregnancy cravings. If I felt I had ate too much junk, I made sure to walk a few miles or eat extra veggies during the next meal. </div>
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Now... as a pregnant lady that ratio was probably off but it kept me mainly in check. I felt like I was preparing myself to lose the weight AB. I knew the sooner I started the better but if I had to enjoy pregnancy for all of its glory too.</div>
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<a href="http://raising-reagan.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/stewie.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://raising-reagan.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/stewie.jpeg" width="256" /></a></div>
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Now, seven months later, my mantra is:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Every victory is <u><b>still</b></u> a victory!"</span></i></span></div>
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Don't sell yourself short just because <i>society</i> has body issues. </div>
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SallyDreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13198650568828146786noreply@blogger.com0