It’ll Be OK

Friendship and BPDHave you ever known someone who you can talk to for like 30 minutes tops, just to realize it’s actually been 4 hours?

I think I’m suddenly going to be ok in the friendship department.

If I can only have one local friend, then at least I seem to have found the one I need.

Lisa and Dawnie are a time zone away.  No one can fill the shoes those two fill.  Lisa my adventure inspiration.  Coaching me up walls, into boats, and one step further on the pavement.  Dawnie is my soul coach.  She inspires me to greatness in the realms of improving the lives of others.  But they are both so far away.

Faith is almost close, but not close enough that I can see her all the time, so I don’t fully consider her local.  Plus she is moving to Florida in a year.  Of course we’ll still keep in touch, but hanging out even just once a month won’t be an option.  In the meantime, she’ll be my kayak buddy.  (Side track: I seriously need to get back in a boat soon).  We chat though the week and I enjoy the conversation.  It’s good to have a local girlfriend I can talk about families and life with.

Not to be forgotten, Patrick, whom I can share the insides and outsides of my soul with.  Who has been by my side through all of my ups and downs, riding the roller coaster right along with me.  My longest and truest, best friend.

I think the remaining friend role has been filled.  Someone to talk about anything to, who actually understands based on their own life experiences, and doesn’t already know all my stories from having lived through them.  Someone who is also local, so unlike Dawnie, these conversations can take place in a coffee-house, in a book store, sitting in my living room talking though a movie.

So there are 5.  This is the fullest my life has ever been.  I never dreamed I could be this lucky in friendship.  And I wouldn’t change a thing of it.

I have friends I always needed, family I always wanted, a marriage that has been stable for longer than I thought possible, mental health that is stable, a career I’m loving with all of me, and I’m back in school.

I think everything is going to be OK.

Like Apples to Oranges

downloadI took my first, and hopefully last, Benadryl yesterday.  I think I prefer the anaphylactic shock I was starting to go into.

Ok, realistically, I probably wasn’t going into full shock.  I’ve been allergic to the wax on apples for over 10 years now.  I’m constantly having my throat swell up due to “bad apples” being snuck into crap.  It’s hard because not all apples will get me.  Are they organic or treated?  How were they handled after they were picked?  It’s a crap shot.  But while my throat does swell up and it sure as hell is anything but comfortable, I’ve never had to have it treated.  I’m patient, it goes away.  And, I’ve fine tuned what to avoid and what to enjoy.

This past week or so my throat has started to swell up like that, no less than 4 times.  I have not had a single apple and I can’t find the common ingredient that is causing it.  The first few times is was very mild so I noticed it, as it is hard not to, but otherwise went along about my day.

Yesterday, during Thomas’ party, shit started getting real.  It’s been a long time since my throat has gotten that bad.  I may well have been able to ride it out,  but not knowing what I was up against and being well aware that this shit can actually kill me, I got a Benadryl from my father.

The good news is I felt better fast.  But oh dear God the come down.  I had to end the party early so I could go home and crash.  Thank God I wasn’t driving, I could barely hold my head up.  I got home, and crashed face down in my bed, lights still on, and I don’t think I so much as moved for about 3 hours while I slept it off.  I then woke up swimming in a pool of my own sweat, feeling like I had been hit  by a train, my heart racing to try to catch up with the train to kick its ass.

No, I don’t know what caused the whole mess.

Yes, I’m keeping a food journal to try to narrow it down.

Yes, I have more Benadryl because while I certainly don’t like the effects, it’s better than death.  Certainly death by Anaphylactic shock.

Yes, I might well have to see about getting an epi pen.  I suppose it depends on what is causing it and how serious this plays out.  I always thought about getting one for the apple thing but I was always able to manage it on my own.

Yes, I’m stubborn like that.


Borderline Personality Disorder and ParentingThomas,

I tried to write this for weeks. It was in fact “due” two days ago.  But trying to track down the words for my thoughts and feelings for you is not unlike trying to track down the Loch Ness Monster.  You know it’s there but good luck getting your hands on it.

What do you say about the person who made you a momma?  What do you say about the person who changed your life forever?  I love no one like I love you.  I don’t love you any more or less than I do Lucas and Samantha, but of you three, you were my first real, true love.  My heart grew to give you all equal room.  But equal does not mean the same.  No better.  No more nor less.  But not the same.

As I sit here trying to decide how to put this in words, I reflect on how much of your life I have missed due to my illness.  How many of your early years I was too sick to truly enjoy and properly file away into my momma memory.  I don’t have as many as I would like, but I have some important ones.

In no particular order:

1.  You were born 3 and half weeks early.  The doctors called you premature, I called you ready to get the party started.  You always have been one to prefer your own time frame for things.  Luckily, as far as being a touch early is concerned, you were healthy as can be.

2. You were so close to walking, that when your Grandma and I saw a baby push toy at a garage sale, we figured it might help you along and bought it for you.  You basically, took one look at it, took great insult, stood up, and walked from that moment on.  I’m only exaggerating a very, little bit.

3.  You will forever be my favorite person to sing Bohemian a cappella with.  I don’t care how  many times I get the teller line at work to break out into song with me, you being able to belt out the song I taught you to love when you were only 8-years-old, will forever remain one of my favorite things about you.

4. Dude.  You power read through the first Harry Potter in slightly over 24 hours.  That would be impressive even if I had let you read through the night like you wanted.  The fact you had to keep putting it down and still power read through it is amazing.  Also?  You are old enough that we can discuss books we both love together.

5. Speaking of reading: At the age of 9, your 3rd grade teacher could no longer test your reading level.  You weren’t just off her chart, you were off the elementary school chart.  And at the rate you are going, you’ll be off any middle school chart before you even reach 6th grade.  The government doesn’t even try to track you anymore.  You’re off all their charts as well.  My first and truest love in life has been and always will be books.  Raising a reader means that with all I’ve done wrong, I’ve done something very right.

6.  I remember sitting in Eddie’s living room, way back when you were little and dad and I rented a room in that house, and singing to you how you were just too good to be true.  Still true.  I may get so very angry at you sometimes but you are still too good to be true.

7. I remember the day you realized you were smarter than the rest of us.  You wanted something on the kitchen counter that at 18-months-old, you simply couldn’t reach.  So you looked down, saw the dog’s food dish, turned it over, stepped up, and suddenly could reach.  That was the day I gave up on ever being smarter than you.

8. The love you hold for your sister is fierce.  You do right by her, seeing as how you begged for her long before even Lucas was born.  You adore her and she adores you.  It is beautiful to behold.

9. This entry from the blog I made for you when you were super little, well before your current.  You were 4 in this story.

We went to this Chinese buffet for dinner tonight.  And momma said if I ate a good dinner I could have ice cream.

Me: I want rainbow ice cream.
Momma: They don’t have rainbow ice cream.
Me: Yes they do, I smell it.
Momma: You smell rainbow ice cream?
Me: Yes…. I do!

Daddy gets back to the table and momma leaves to get me my “soft serve”.  Whatever that is.  After a second she comes right back, hands empty with a confused look on her face.

Momma: Pat when did they get rid of the soft serve machines and get an ice cream bar?  And since when do they have rainbow sherbet?
Daddy: I don’t know but you should get him some.
Momma: I am…

She leaves again and then comes back this time with some rainbow ice cream.

Momma: How did you know they had rainbow ice cream?
Me: I smelled it!
Daddy: He told you!

No, I never had a chance to see it.  I’m not tall enough to see the ice cream in the bar.  And no one else was eating any.  No one told me.  Momma is really confused as to how I knew.  Apparently she doesn’t believe me when I say I could smell it.

10. If all your girlfriends can be as sweet as your first girlfriend at the age of 3, Katie, we’ll be set!


Love you, kiddo!  You drive me crazy, but I love you!


Snap Shots

School and Borderline Personality Disorder BPDThe lack of blog writing isn’t from the depression I blipped into.  No worries there.  Nope.  45+ hour work weeks, school, 3 kids and weekends at the pool simply leave little time for writing.

So, I guess you could say my life is over flowing with all the good things.

That said, I still want to attempt 3-days-a-week content.  If that doesn’t work, I’ll drop to 2-days-a-week.  When I have a queue longer than my arm, I’ll go back to 3.  Or 5.  I don’t know.  I’m aiming for regular.  However often it may be.

Speaking of school, the class I’m embarking on now is Psyc 110.  Yep, I get to study psychology.  DREAMS!  THEY DO COME TRUE!

But can I just say that the amount in which you enjoy a subject outside of the classroom is directly proportionate to how much you can potentially loath to take pages after pages of notes on it.

Also, as an avid reader, I automatically hated being forced to read most anything assigned in literature class.  Ok, so have me read it.  Debate it.  I love a good discussion.  But if you ask me the key event in chapter three and then mark it wrong because I finished the book in one night and therefore gave you the key event in chapter 4, I will stab you. STAB YOU!

OK, not really.  But oh lord I used to piss teachers off with that.  Hah.  I guess they weren’t use to students who liked to read.  For fun.  It’s a real thing people!  Something Literature instructors should understand!

But yes, I’d much prefer discussing psychology then writing out notes defining it.

In other things that piss me off: That zip line tour I’ve been planning and excited about for weeks?  Yep.  Can’t go.  The appropriate term here is crushed.

Since we’re defining things.