Seriously?

How can frozen shrimp be bad? My stomach is crying. So much for writing my post about being part of the Traveling Red Dress Project and having a great talk with a wonderful person.

Diet fail. 

And I have a newspaper interview in the AM.  Uhhhhhhhhhggggggggggggggggg.

Refreshed and Revived

First of all, I must say thank you for all the love and warm words sent my way yesterday.  There is so much I want to say, but I know I'll start tearing up again if I try to wax eloquently.  I've spent most of today crying.


Screw it, I've tried typing several times and I can't get the words out right.  So to sum it up I'll do it in pictures tonight and explain it tomorrow.

My Sacrifice

I have been trying to talk myself out of a panic attack since last night. So far, I've kept the crazy feelings down, but they are fighting to get to the surface.  I hate putting this down in binary code, because to me, I sound like a pathetic broken record.  I hate that I just can't "get over it" (as I've been told to do) some of the residual anger that festers in my soul.  I hate that after 6.5 years I still long to be back up in VA, not the state that I was raised in, but the state where I 'grew up.'
 
I know I am sick and run down from taking care of The Kiddo. I probably have walking pneumonia if not my chronic sinusitis acting up.  I***know***that in a day or two I should be doing better.  I'll have been seen by a doctor and hopefully given something I help me kick this illness to the curb.  I just ***feel***like crying.

I am excited about going to VA in 87 days (but who is counting) yet terrified of the feelings I am going to have to deal with. I miss living up there so much. I had to give it up when I had my son. It has been such a sacrifice.

One one hand, my family is here, we are surrounded by a great group of people from our Church, and the Kiddo is getting a great education. He's lacking for nothing.  I do not regret choosing the life of my son over my desires.  I love him so much and know that his life is responsible on so many levels for me getting my life together.

But I am so alone down here. There isn't anyone I know down here that I can talk to, that has SOME of the same interests as I do. I stick out like a sore thumb. I'm not going to apologize and hide who I am like I've done before, but I'm just so tired of doing it alone.  In this area, if you aren't a good ole' country gal or a pretentious country club groupie/doctor chaser, than that's it.  This town, cute and quaint as it may be, isn't big in diversity. 

One of my cousins said I should move to Asheville because there are so many artists. I'd probably feel right at home, though what I gather from Portlandia, I'd be happy there too.

I'm so tired of being lonely.

I'm still angry that my son's father cowed under the pressure we faced.  That his parents paid for me go away, but wouldn't help me when I was sick.  We weren't together when I conceived.  I had realized that our relationship as a couple was a toxic combo.  But we had been friends for years before we had ever become involved.  I'm so pissed that he couldn't stand on his own two feet and ran to his parents like a baby.  I'm so angry that I had to give up living in a place for me that felt like home. 

I'm so tired of carrying this anger and hurt around.  I hate that I hate living where I am.  I hate that I'm not happy here. I hate knowing that I would hate myself  if I took The Kiddo away from the only life he's know just to satisfy my selfish desires.

The Road To Parenthood Is Paved With Good Intentions

When I was the little Diatribest, my parents did what they could to protect me from what they deemed too mature or inappropriate by heavily restricting what I viewed on TV or listen to on the radio.  I didn't view one-eighth of the movies that may classmates saw (Willow? Don't Tell Mom The Babysitter's Dead?) and I wasn't allowed to listen to modern music, so I grew up on the classics, the oldies.  Yet somehow I managed to view The Graduate before I was 11 (which I didn't and still don't understand).  Also, it turns out hearing a little girl belt out "Brown sugar, why do you taste so good, brown sugar, just like a young girl should" is a bit disturbing.

And I respect that.  I hated them at the time, but I understand now what they were attempting to do.  As a parent I attempt to do the same for the Kiddo.  There are some things that I won't let him view because I find them to be downright disgusting, inane, or insulting to children viewers and the adults that created them.

For instance, my parents wouldn't allow me to watch the Chucky Trilogy. (clip NSFW).  So what I gathered about the movies from my classmates was that a little boy had a doll that came to life and killed everyone.  Sounded creepy, but I could separate fact from fiction.  I wasn't afraid my Cabbage Patch doll, which lay on the end of my bed every night along with 30 other stuffed animals, was going to wake up and kill me. 

Then Playschool came out with My Buddy and Kid Sister.  And I confused the murderous doll with a lame doll aimed at friendless, siblingless children.  The kids across the street had a My Buddy, which I swear would follow me around the house.  And it didn't help that the older girl told me her visiting cousin was possessed and would kill all the newborn kittens if I didn't sit on the bed and be quiet.

I'm almost 31 and over-sized dolls still scare the crap out of me.

Nothing. No Thing.

I've got nothing right now. 

My insecurities are popping up again.  I have a fairly easy assignment that would take all of two hours, if that.  I'm feeling to paralyzed to do it.  I need the $100, but I can't put the words together that I need to write an SEO article about an SEO company that wants to sell you their SEO algorithms.  Ughhhh. . . .Even typing that makes me want to shoot myself. 

I'm totally drained.  I've spent the past 30 days nursing my son through a nasty virus which turned into a sinus infection.  I was sick for a good while during his bout and haven't healed properly.  I've been wheezing today which makes me concerned.  Now that he has returned to school, just for today and tomorrow, I want to collapse.  First thing I did after dropping him off at school was to crawl into bed until noon. 

Because that's what winners do! 

I'm feeling lonely.  And a bit jealous too.  And really insecure about writing what is on my mind.  I wish I had the courage to let it all come out, much like The Bloggess did the other night.  Her piece on depression and self-harm was so moving, I would have cried if I could have, but I'm too dead inside right now.