Slash Rant

I Look In The Mirror And All I See

Posted on by kmarrs

Is sad lonely eyes, staring right back at me.

Alright.  So A few weeks back I was thrilled to the moon over a new friend I had found in the mother of my kid’s friend.  I guess I didn’t know she assumed I was Christian.  And the irony in this compared to what I had originally said about her is not lost. (The part at the very bottom slays me, now, in hindsight.)

The thing is, I only have guesses.  She hasn’t actually told me to my face that she has a new found problem with my family.  And she certainly hasn’t said what it was.  But the only change that occurred between her being thrilled with my family and now there being a coldness that could freeze fire is her realization that hey, we don’t worship.

There wasn’t a point where I said “Oh, by-the-way.”  I think she just pieced a few things together and jumped to, admittedly correct, conclusions.

When my husband and I dropped T off at their house for a zoo trip, Pat was wearing a Gothic style head cover.  By no means Satanic or otherwise inappropriate, but you know how Gothic style can go.  I guess I should have seen her reaction to our Pink Floyd poster coming.  I’ve never given it a second thought.  And we only ever get compliments.  But then, most of our friends aren’t exactly conservative.  She didn’t say anything, but since my husband who can read people like a coloring book was the one to catch her facial reaction, she didn’t have to.

Borderline Personality Disorder bpd and friendship

In retrospect, I can’t honestly blame her. They are technically naked. With their back to their camera not revealing anything hard core, and it’s tasteful and artistic as hell. But they are naked, and either you’re bothered by it or you’re not.

Later that evening when confirming the sleepover scheduled for the weekend to come, I got word that little man was nervous about spending the night in a strange house.  Not yet realizing that something was majorly wrong, I went into understanding momma mode and told her that was way fine, he’d could come hang out and if spending the night wouldn’t work, that would be fine.  If he wanted to try to spend the night but couldn’t make it, I’d get him home myself no matter the time.

They showed up.  He was left.  He thought it was insane I’d even suggest to call his mom at bedtime, he was having fun and wasn’t even a little hesitant about crashing in a strange house.  I texted her to update her on things being well, I got arctic chill.

We haven’t heard boo from them in the 2 weeks since he was picked up that morning.

Pat and I had a long talk where the reader of people detailed what he’d noticed, I confessed the signs I had seen, and I started processing being so very wrong about my hoped for new friendship.

I started out so very mad.  Which is actually why this post took 2 weeks.  The nerve! I mean right?  Way to judge me on my morals and actions.  Let’s just write me off because I don’t worship your God.  Your God, who has made it clear it’s his job to judge me, and not yours.  I’m pretty sure should the pearly gates be real, I’ll receive enough judgment there, I don’t need it at the door to my own damn house.  And seriously?  I may not worship like you do, but I am spiritual, moral, and good.  I’m not perfect.  But I’m good.

Oh that rant would have continued on for paragraphs into pages.  Twitter even got some of it.

But now I’m resigned to acceptance.  If I am written off so easily because of my religion, or lack-there-of, then I’m not the one losing anything here.

Then less than a week later I found my people.

And I’ll tell that story later.  But hint?  It involves me climbing that wall, though it doesn’t start there.

New Phone Redux

Posted on by kmarrs

I hate smart phones.  I’m not overly thrilled to own one.  Yes, the apps are cool.  Yes, I’ll use them.  But I am just not one of those people that has to have the latest and greatest smart phone.

In fact, 24 hours in and I’ve already had to do my first factory reset.  Because they are such a joy!

Since I apparently have no real choice but to have a smart phone, I’ve got twitter set up on it to do my bidding.  I run 3 twitter accounts I can toggle between.

1 is my main one @therealkmarrs.

1 is my facebook one.  So I don’t have to go back and forward on facebook which I loath more than smart phones, I have a twitter that’s main function is to forward to my blog’s facebook page.  All in the name of being more active there and less spammy spammy. I need to give this more shape in the future.  And decided, for example, if that’s the twitter stream I want to link to here.  Do I keep it strictly BPD?  Include personal?  Decisions decisions.

The 3rd is an anonymous account that I would love to share but can’t because I need to stay anon so I don’t get fired.  *shrug*  No names are ever named and it’s all very generic crap that all of us in the banking word run into daily.  Alas, no reason to get specific with it.

I’m also making sure all links from all blogs go to the correct place.  Sammy’s blog should auto forward a link to my personal FB and Twitter.  Same as the boys.  Where my blog should go to my FB page and my @therealkmarrs twitter.  Then my tumbler goes to blah blah blah.  And oh hey you can shoot me now.

Granted, I’m the dumb ass running 7 blogs counting my tumbler.

Alright, time to run for food.  Laters!

Say It To Me Not Behind Me

Posted on by kmarrs

We are best friends, but when we catch up it’s hard for me to get a word in to catch you up on my life. This wouldn’t be nearly as bad if 90% of your words weren’t negative about everyone and everything in your life. We all can say something negative about everyone we know since no one is perfect, humans are flawed. But the ability to look past the flaws and see the remarkable is the true beauty of human interaction. And no matter what I have negative to say about my husband, family, and friends, it’s always made clear by me how wonderful I think you all really are. You say that you don’t really talk to any of your other friends. And you give all these reasons based on their annoying personality traits. But as time goes by, and it’s been 10 years, I am wondering if as you start sounding more and more superior if maybe it’s you, and not them. That hit my full force with something you said at me. Not to, but at. You, who I thought to be the 1 person who loved me fully and unconditionally for who I am, yet don’t in any way have to. (Even my husband, who does have some choice, is tied by a legal contract and 3 kids that make it harder for him to just walk away.) And now I’m left wondering: what exactly are you saying about me behind my back? Because I’m well aware there is plenty you could be. I spend a lot of time, all our time together really, listening to what you have to say about every single person in your life. No one seems to be immune. And none of what you say is positive. So I’m left doubting that I could possibly be the one exception. And I’m left wondering what it is you are saying about me. And I’m starting to think maybe I don’t want to hear about them anymore. I’m done sympathizing with you. Because, no really. I don’t think it’s them. I think it’s you. I think you are the reason a long list of friends stopped contacting you. And I think it’s because you have it in your head that you are so much better. But sweetie, you are just as flawed as the rest of us. And I guess after 10 years, and an apparent gleaming white BPD built pedestal, I’m finally realizing that.

And for the record: No 4-year-old goes to a parade to see politicians drive by begging for you to vote for them. They go for the candy their wives and friends pass out. And then get excited over the occasional fire truck and (apparently) marching bands. And no, I will not apologize for or be made to feel bad for encouraging the 4-year-old, who was glued to my side, to be more aggressive in seeking it out; when the 17 or 18 year old to our right was being all grabby grabby and not a damn candy giver missed him. I wasn’t telling my 4-year-old to push and shove. I was encouraging him to step up and ask not to be missed like a 4-year-old should and to out cute the near adult who walked away with 10 times what both my kids did combined. And no, I simply can’t just go to Krogers and buy him candy. Not like that anyways. Not when there are weeks we are counting quarters for one last loaf of bread or gallon of milk to be sure we have enough until my next payday. I may not be the most responsible person, but I’m not that irresponsible. Though maybe you think I am? Because I am the welfare recipient with 3 kids after all. As I’m starting to imagine everyone you know and talk to is well aware. But do you also tell them how hard I’m working to improve my situation in life so that I can do right by those 3 kids? Somehow, I doubt it. Because I don’t hear any of that stuff about them.

Sometimes…

Posted on by kmarrs

After I find something new the middle little has destroyed…

Sometimes I wish I had gone from my 1st born to my 3rd born.

I don’t really mean it.

I love my snuggle puppy to pieces.

But he is a very, very hard child to parent.

He destroys not because he doesn’t know better, but because he can.
Because he’s bored.
Because he’s looking for stimulation.

And I’m about to break to pieces.

He is just so damn destructive.
All the time.
No matter the supervision.
Short of hand cuffing him to our sides…

He is 4.
Yes 4 requires supervision.
But 4 is where they start to gain independence and he just can’t be allowed any.

And I’d like to put him down for a nap, just once, without him destroying the protective sheet on his brother’s bed.
Or eating a book.
Or eating the purple crayon to see if it tastes like grape.
It doesn’t.
Or braking a toy 2 seconds after it was handed to him just to see if it’s destructible.

I’d like the boys to be able to share a room and toys without Thomas getting screwed over because Luke breaks everything Thomas owns.
But there is no way to separate the toys when the two share a space and there is no way to make it so that don’t share a space.

So sometimes…
I don’t like that feeling.
I love him.
No matter what.
But sometimes…

Even a fully equipped and mentally functional parent would struggle with him.
And I’m good.
But…
I’m not 100%.
2000% better than I was.
But not 100%.

But then…
Maybe I’m exactly the parent he needs because I know what it is he is suffering from.
I understand it, off the bat, at a level not many parents can’t personally relate to.
So maybe I’m his mom because I’m best equipped to care for him, because I’m ill-equipped.

Because I know that he is old enough to know better.
But I know his brain is misfiring
And I know that he can’t really help it.
And so I seek help for him.
I hold him accountable so there is hope he will learn.
But my ill-equipped brain allows me to see he needs more help than just my discipline alone can provide.

Please.
Someone agree with me.

Of all the indiscretions I’ve made public on this blog, Andrew, religion, sexuality, etc, this is the one that has me the most nervous.  Kids are a line though.  But I’m betting it’s probably the one that makes me the most normal. The most human. I’d really like for someone to confirm that, BTW.

Change

Posted on by kmarrs

I can’t help but feel that teenagers need to see what real people look like.  A simple request that Seventeen refuses to follow.  After all, they do make their money telling you what you should (unrealistically) look like and then selling products that (won’t) make you look that way.

Hrms… see the problem?  None-the-less, I signed and maybe you should too.
Change.org|Online Petition Template

It doesn’t take much to sign it, but will you? What about the youth in your life?

And more importantly, what effect does the trend of photoshop have on the trend of mental health for our youth?  Sure, maybe the big issues like Bipolar, BPD, etc aren’t part of the equation.  But there are still plenty of other less chemically induced issues that unrealistic expectations can’t possibly be helping with.  This isn’t complex math.