It Isn't What They Say About You, It's What They Whisper.

This week has been an interesting one for me. Jesus christ interesting to say the least. Hurtful, eye opening, revealing, maddening, sad, confusing to name a few of the emotions I have gone through. In all my life I have never encountered such hatred and anger as I have this week directed at me and what I supposedly did...about gossip. Through my very abusive 15 year relationship with my ex-husband gossip was never something he did. He was from an upper class family, a good position in his company, he never wanted to gossip about what was going on in his family because he thought that would reflect badly on himself as a person. He was never one to scream on the front lawn at me, or tell the neighbors what was going on...it just wasn't thought of. The one thing that can be said for the guy...he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

As a girl hell as a human we all have been targets of rumors or gossip or just even the occasionally teasing about a new hair style or outfit that someone is going to inevitably not like and talk about. I was no stranger to that kind of childish form of entertainment...when I was a child. I have done it too, haven't we all? It seems though as we get older it should get better. As adults we should have learned better ways to communicate with one another other than gossip.

My group of friends in high school was a small VERY close knit group of girls and guys who were for lack of a better word, my family. We were fiercely loyal to everyone in the group. You wanted to say something about one of us? That meant taking on all of us and not alot of people wanted to do that. If we had a problem with one another because lets face it, no group is immune to the pressures of high school, we would talk to each other about it. We wouldn't spread gossip we wouldn't automatically decide we hated that person from a "he said she said" conversation. We talked things out sometimes screamed things out...but we always got to the bottom of the issue before we moved on ...usually to the next one. What can I say it was high school. I guess you could say we kept ourselves in a protective bubble that encompassed all of us, we watched out for each other, we learned how to spot potential trouble from a mile away and would do whatever we could to protect our group from that trouble. When I went off to college...I was still in that bubble. My friends went to to the same school as me or stayed in the same town. My friends in college had to merge with my high school friends or it just didn't work. It needed to be blended love or no love. You don't love every single one of my friends? Sorry move right along.

I got married had babies and stayed in my bubble. My husband had a reputation to uphold and despite the abusive bullshit, we stayed away from the gossip and the rumor mill to an extent, because of our perceived appearances to the outside world. The nicely put together Mom's at the Mommy and Me classes didn't have any idea what my life inside those walls was like and I stayed free of the gossip. Choosing to not make new friends but to stay in my bubble so I wouldn't have to answer any questions about my private life was how I did it for the most part. Was it worth it? I thought so at the time.

After a miscarriage, 4 babies, losing a child, a divorce, a mental break down and a host of rather bad luck situations I thought I had come out the other side pretty unscathed. I mean I could change a diaper, help with Math homework and get ready for a date all at the same time. I felt like nothing could penetrate my feeling of invincibility. My core group of friends remained at my side but as time and life marched on more and more of them left the state or the country and I was somewhat alone in this town without a lot of really solid girlfriends. I missed that. I needed to have a female connection with someone, someone who could relate to my craziness at times or just someone who would love to spend the day shopping and drinking smoothies. Through all of those things I had gone through it was my girlfriends that got me through it. That picked me back up and did the whole "buck up soldier" pep talk and sent me on my way.

I bought a new house, I started school again and I started to blog by accident one day and I fell in love with the cyber community of women and men that I felt I belonged to when I read about someones semi private thoughts every morning with my oatmeal and tea. I felt connected again to something that I had been missing. I blogged about a lot of stuff, alot of personal private stuff that yeah would have been good gossip fodder back in the day.

I happened upon a group here in my hometown of local bloggers and was quickly made to feel right at home in this new group of women. As a woman, like I said, I was very hesitant to meet them because of the raw things I have talked about on here. How would they perceive me in real life when they have read about me online? Well they were/are awesome. Liking every single one of these women who were strangers to me last year seemed a virtually impossible thought to me. I am not sure if anyone has ever studied the likelihood of several women all liking each other or not...but I am betting the odds are somewhat low. That I would enjoy their company so much or need to be around them for my own social and mental health was a pleasant and unexpected surprise.

I felt their love and support this week when I was the target of another woman's dislike of things that I had done. Gossip and rumors, and just plain hurtful comments were made and emails exchanged. I am not a confrontational person. With my ex-husband hell yes I was...we could barely speak to each to each other without confrontation or insults, but when he left alot of that left with me and I have never been more peaceful. I love to be around people. I love to ask questions and find out a person's history. If they are into the same things as me, I don't think twice before I send them an email or ask them about it. I don't think what other people will think of me if I comment on someones FaceBook status. I felt like I was/am harmless. At least that is what I thought the impression was that I gave off. Apparently not to everyone. The person who was spreading the gossip? I didn't really know her. I had met her a couple of times, but I respected her and her career and what she has been through. I thought that we could get over whatever it was that I did that pissed her off in the beginning and move on with life. I was wrong.

I thought I had tougher skin I thought that with everything I had been through I could actually take someone just not liking me. I mean that's life. Turns out I'm not all that good at it. It sucks really. Really sucks. Through it all this week I have called, emailed, cried, talked much longer than I should have to my "new" group of women friends and through it all they have supported me, listened and thankfully emailed me back. Words can not express my gratitude. As a 32 year old woman I guess I need to learn that not everyone is going to think I am cool or want to hang out with me. I wrote to a friend of mine this week and said that I think I might be a tad bit narcissistic to think that everyone should like me but at the same time have the self esteem to totally understand when they don't. It's a hard lesson to learn after a lifetime of pretty much just sailing through life in my bubble. I suppose it had to be popped.

I am thankful for my group of friends and am reminded of the power that words have to hurt, to alienate and to embarrass but thankfully to also heal, help and connect.

Now Is the Age of Anxiety

Picture me in an office with a big leather couch probably with sailboats in glass bottles and book shelves filled with authors like Freud and other smart people and probably hidden in between some old "art" books filled with drawings of naked women. An old man with a jacket with corduroy patches on the elbows is getting out a notebook and telling me to lay down and to start talking...

I have been having a really tough 6 months or so...I think any kind of mental illness whether it be severe depression, anxiety or just plain old PMS is something that shouldn't be taken lightly.

I believe , thank god, that the stigma of being on medication to balance the hormones or the use of talk or any kind of written therapy (hello blogs?!) either paid or otherwise is becoming so socially acceptable that it is almost embarrassing if you haven't gone and talked to a shrink or experimented with Prozac at least once in your life. To be "normal" anymore is not the norm.

I thought I had kicked it. I really had. I thought that four years ago when I had my "Summer of Craziness" I had learned the tools to deal with this shit. You know the usual...medication, talk therapy, exercise, to keep the fear and the obsessive thoughts away. I watch that show Obsessed on A&E and I feel like I am watching my own documentary. My mind is saying "Holy shit Sarah, that is you you crazy bitch" ( My mind isn't always so kind).

Four years ago I was facing down some scary paralyzing witchy demons that I thought I had burned at the stake to never have to deal with again. Maybe that is part of my denial, maybe it was me being optimistic or just plain in denial that this wouldn't have to be a life long effort for me to beat.

I haven't quite figured out yet why I am so scared that I am going to get sick. Going to get cancer. Going to drop dead of a heart attack. My major theory is I must feel like I don't deserve to live a long and healthy life. That I don't deserve to be happy. That the universe or god or some higher power is somehow or in someway punishing me and that I won't get to see my kids grow old, or learn what its like to have dentures, or tell stories about "the good ole' days", or see my grandchildren born. A part of me must think that I am not good enough to fight these demons and to push on. My mom in her ever infinite wisdom always tells me "Sarah you are going to spend your whole life worrying that you are going to die and then you will out live us all." Maybe she's right maybe I am wasting away my life worrying about dying instead of enjoying the life I was given.

In first place I am terrified to grow old and in a very close second scared to die young. (How fucked up is that)

Every pain, every bump, every thing that isn't right scares me to the point of paralysis. If you ever want to know where I am on any given morning,more than likely I am down at the gym sweating my ass off trying to convince myself that I am okay. That I am healthy and am going to live to see the new year. Of course none of us know when we will die. It is an inevitable part of the life cycle, but I find myself making bargains with the universe bargains with myself. If I can finish this hour on the stair mill then that must mean I am healthy because a sick person wouldn't work out that long...or if I can bike 12 miles an hour then my legs are strong enough so my heart must be too.

Believe me as you all collectively sigh and scream "Crazy Bitch!" at the monitor I know what I sound like, I know how unbelievably sad this all must sound. I don't want to waste my time worrying that something is wrong. I don't want to waste the precious time I have with my young kids worrying about how they will survive if I am not there to be their Mother. I look at other women and wonder if they are constantly feeling their breasts for lumps scared that a cancer is there, or checking their moles every night for skin cancer. I look at mothers and wonder if they lay awake at night thinking about their kids future and what it would be like if they were raised without a mother.

Exercise it helps, to the point where I am sure if my love of all things food was any less than it is that I would surely be worrying that I was too skinny. A part of me needs someone constantly telling met that I am okay That I am healthy that I will live. Then when I get the clean bill of health from doctors or well meaning friends, there is always another worry that pokes his ugly little pimply head out at me and causes more and more sleepless nights. When all I want to do is put on some huge steel toe boots and kick its sorry little ass to the curb and go to bed. To smile and make it alright.

I thought I had beat this anxiety. I thought my obsessive thoughts about dying were a thing of the past and I could live my life free of the fear. Sure give me the anxiety about if I was going to pass the Math test at school or if my iPod would work after I accidentally dropped it in the toilet...give me a thousand of those worries. I can control them I can take care of them and fix them. Death...well not so much. That is the main issue. I have been to enough therapy to know that my utter feeling of not being in control is making me feel like I am spinning into this vortex of scary darkness. Its the things that are uncontrollable that I can not deal with. Take away these mind gripping thoughts that make me irritable and doubtful and unable to enjoy what life has given me. I am so blessed so beyond blessed in my life that sometimes I feel guilty for all the things I have. The ability I have to stay at home with my 4 kids to go to school and to not have to worry about where the money will come from to pay the bills or buy the groceries. I can control all of that, death is beyond my reach beyond my grasp and I can't seem to get past that thought.

I thought I had gotten rid of the debilitating fear that literally brought me to my knees 4 years ago. Turns out it was just buried for a little bit and it some how found a damn shovel and is trying to climb its way back out to knock me in the kneecaps again. Damn you fear, damn you anxiety and doubt and depression and all the awful synonyms that come with this.

I have no idea why I am writing this or if I will post it. All I know is I need to step it up a notch and get some more help. To go and talk to someone who can help me, help me not get covered in this fear that is slowing working its way up my body.

Warning this Post is not for the faint of heart...or for any die hard Michael Jackson fans....

I logged on to yahoo reaLLLLLLLLLLLy hoping someone had written something other than the glowing emotional tributes that have been flooding the social networks, news stations and radio bulletins. Hoping that someone instead of playing a musical tribute to a fallen star would stand up and take a stand against honoring someone who deserves nothing of the sort. That someone would write, more eloquently than me, how sad it is how this country idolizes all kinds of people, the wrong people and puts people with money, fame and a reasonable amount of talent up on a pedestal despite how they act in private. How sad that despite all the facts, allegations and even just plain old creep factor, millions of people were in the street crying over a aging rock star that gave us some good memories over a tape deck 20 years ago. These were probably the same people who were wearing Free Michael t-shirts back five years ago when he was accused Again of inappropriate behavior toward little kids. I wonder where were the millions of people that came to the children's defense? Even IF the extreme case wasn't true, wasn't proven, was trumped up to extort money, just the simple fact that he himself admitted to having "sleepovers" with children, with giving them "Jesus Juice" and a host of other ungodly stupidity, should make us as smart intelligent Americans say a small thank you yesterday.

Shame on the parents of those boys for being silenced for so long. In shutting their mouths while they opened their bank accounts. They let him believe even more that he was untouchable even more invincible and all the more powerful because he had money. That the thrill of sending their kids to the Neverland Ranch overrode their child's safety. Sickening. Giving him the free pass to do what he choose to do and play dumb that no one ever told him touching little kids and letting them sleep in a bed next to you at night without clothes on is Wrong.

I. Call. Bullshit.

How his fame overshadowed his misdeeds saddens and disgusts me. How people are saying "Well if it weren't for the last 5 years or so he was great" No honey, that's not how it works. He wasn't great. He was a performer who used his influence, power and excuses to do harm to children and the people who trusted him.

Just because I heard Ted Bundy had a big cock doesn't mean I want to fuck him anytime soon.

(Pardon my french)

Yes I am sorry for his children...but you know what? I felt sorry for his children when he was dangling babies over hotel balconies and having them wear towels over their faces and costumes in public. No one ever did anything though did they? No authorities stepped in, their own mother even gave the responsibility over to this sick man to raise them because of what?? Come on now I know you know the answer don't hold back on me? MONEY! I would rather my children eat fried shoelaces and live in a box next to a power plant than give my rights over to a man who sat on television and held hands with a 13 year old boy. Where are their voices? Who spoke up for them? Where were the tshirts that read "Free Michael's Children"? This wasn't Winona Ryder being accused of shoplifting this was Michael Jackson being accused of the most heinous crime I can think of Child molestation. He dies and the world is morning? What may I ask are we so sorry about? That his life as a child was shitty? That his parents were strict and cruel? Yeah well too bad. Life sucks sometimes. He was wealthy he was surrounded by seemingly intelligent people that could have helped that could have stepped up to get him the help he needed long before. That could have prevented him from being in the presence of children.

If the local sex predator who lives around the corner from you suddenly kicks the bucket playing racquetball...does the fact that he was an amazing artictecht, or well known politician overshawdow the fact that he raped a seven year old little girl in a parking lot? God I fucking hope not.

I think what makes me sad is that no one is remembering anything more than "Oh I cleaned my room to Thriller", or "I had my first kiss to Billy Jean." That that memeory makes it okay what he did later in his life. I remember reading articles about the inhumane way Mother Teresa treated her volunteers in Calcutta and how she just really wasn't a nice person...but she wore a nun's habit and gave money to charities so that excused her for being an asshat. Sorry no. Just like I don't think Mother Teresa was "moody" or just had a couple of bad outbursts, neither do I believe that Michael Jackson was a great man but he just happened to molest little boys.His hand just slipped once or twice down their pants, but hey remember Man in the Mirror? Damn that was a good song so all is forgiven. I'll pass on the warm fuszzy memories of a sicko's recording career. Thanks.

Don't care about the music he gave us because for fucking once we need to remember what truly makes us a good person. Not by the material things we do or because we can sell a hit single, or decorate the White House, or even be the god damn President and live in the White House, those things don't make us who we are. And I hope that he was ashamed of the things he did, or god forbid were still doing, and realized that World tours and Hall of Fames and Gold Records do not a good man make.

Random Tuesday Thoughts: To Me It's All Just Mental Masturbation

Cause there's only way, there's only one way (drum solo) to rock!

Why is that all of the local radio stations here feel the need to have all 80's weekends? Just because I am the slacker that hasn't converted over to satellite radio I have to be subjected to Joan Jett and random clips of Lethal Weapon? Not really fair. I can be up all night and sleep all day with the best of them but 48 hours of synthesizer music is an overkill no?

Seriously $30 for Tesla tickets? I am thinking put on wife beater and watch them on youtube, it's practically the same thing. Good seats are still available though. No shit! Even though I would trade my Dora Live tickets for some Tesla tickets right about now.

I had the wonderful good fortunate of coming across the most coveted gift imaginable to any parent....the cheap and available anytime babysitter. I felt like Christmas had come early last week when I realized the girl I had hired to watch my kids this Summer while I go to school full time only charged $5 an hour! Even though I did have to remind her that just because she's cheap it still means she can only watch porn with her boyfriend on my couch only AFTER the kids go to sleep and that the joints have to be smoked with the windows OPEN, no exceptions. I'm a hard ass like that when it comes to the people I entrust my kids too. So being that she was so cheap I immediately booked her for the next 52 weekends. Score one for me.

Eric and I watched a movie about babysitters that were selling sexual favors to the Dad's whose kids they watched. Thank god this one can drive herself home. So if you are reading this Eric, sorry baby. I was googling images for babysitters and there are quite a few pornos with babysitters as the theme. I guess I am just old school and prefer the whole teacher/student scenario. Call me crazy.

Last weekend during my new found cheap babysitter freedom. I met with some local
bloggers downtown at a bar for some drinks. It was really the first time I had met most of the people there and I was kind of like a star struck idiot when meeting alot of them. They were so nice and welcoming and could easily drink me under the table in about 15 minutes so they have my utmost respect.

As previously mentioned on another blog post, which I would link to but 1. I don't know how, and 2. I am trying to, through psycho therapy, block that period out of my life, I wrote about my very unconventional crush on one of my city's great Councilmen, Gary Sandberg. Well he happened to be at the bar that night and after I stopped blushing profusely I actually got to meet him and talk to him. It was a very Marsha Brady meets Davy Jones kind of moment and I was thrilled to have it finally come full circle. Even though I didn't get to see him lick his eyebrows, but you know what? I am okay with that. Some things are better left to the imagination.

Saturday night Eric and I and some friends went out to eat then to a local bar downtown that had a band we all thought would be fun to see. We got there at about 9:30 and had to pay a cover so we asked the guy what time the band was going to start playing, when he replied Oh around midnight I couldn't help but laugh outloud. Seriously Midnight? God damn I am old. I wanted to ask where all the old people that have to get home to sitters bands play but didn't want to look like the kill joy.

But on the plus side, I did get a cool guitar hand stamp that made me feel like a rock star while I drank my Coors Light and made out with my boyfriend in dark corners of the bar. (Actually the making out part didn't happen but not from his lack of trying, mainly from my lack of ability to stand upright for more than a couple of minutes without getting dizzy. I have become quite a lightweight in my older age) Next time I do need to pace myself more since it was quite embarrassing trying to figure out how much money to pay the sitter and my multiplication skills were a tiny bit impaired.

My two year had a busy week last week. His father I 'll just call him the Moron for this story and his girlfriend, hmm lets call her Stupid Bitch, cut off all of my baby's beautiful curly red hair without my knowledge or permission. Actually Stupid Bitch took him, not the Moron. Who by the way, she is a mother and I am still trying to decide if she is just stupid or mean? Why would she take another persons kid to have his very first hair cut? She did save me a curl. Isn't that nice? My kid looks like he could be drafted now but thanks Stupid Bitch for the curl.

Then on Saturday, because it never happens on a week day when doctors offices are open, Nathan is jumping on my bed with his brother and fell and hit his eyebrow on my nightstand. So off to the ER to get factor and observation to make sure he didn't have a concussion. After about a half an hour of trying to convince the resident that yes, he barked at people before the head trauma we were allowed to go home. So now he is a bald little boxer and I break out into song everytime I see him.

"In a clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade and he carries the reminders of every glove that's laid him out or cut him to he's cried out in his anger and his pain....Lie da Lie....etc etc."

Thank you Paul Simon, or was it Garfunkel? Well yeah I don't think Garfunkel really wrote anything except that crappy song New York. He was mainly the looks in that operation no?

The hot guy at my gym always wears a hat while he runs. Always. I would be working out behind him grossed out at the sweat ring that would form on the hat and wonder how stinky his hat collection must be? But his kind of god like phyique helped me get over the sweaty hat issue. As I was pondering one day why he wore a hat to run in,he walked into the gym said hi to me and I didn't recognize him . Why you may ask? Well he didnt have his hat on that day and he is completely bald on the top. Kind of like he put one of those clown wigs on. Bald on top then tons of hair in a circle all around his head. It was disturbing and kind of ruined the fantasy right there. Someone should tell him that the Bozo look doesn't do anything for him...at all.

I watched Marley and Me last night and I cried the whole way through, not just in the end, but the beginning the middle and the end. It was like Where the Red Fern Grows, Ole Yeller, and Charlottes Web all rolled up into one, instead of a cute little comedy about a dog.

I registered for my last semester of school yesterday! Whoo hoo. So hopefully I will be done and be an actual real adult sometime in the near future. But really I am not holding my breath.

I feel so much better now. I am sure all my facebook friends were getting sick of me posting updates on my life every 5 minutes so I thought I would come back off of my blogging break and write it for all the cyber world to read. Random Tuesday Thoughts is once again brought to you by Keely over at The Un Mom and by all the useless mess in my mind.

Happy Tuesday!

Just A Song Before I Go....

Well I am not really going anywhere, I just love that song and it came on my iTunes as I was trying to think of a good title for this post. It was either that or The Bitch is Back and really Elton John Sarah? I desperately need to clean house on my music collection...

I first want to thank everyone who has emailed, commented, called, thrown eggs at my house, wondering where the hell I have been. I usually try to comment at least when I haven't been posting, but I have been a slacker all around the blog community. To tell you the truth there was no great reason not to post except I didn't want to. I channeled my inner 7 year old girl and rolled my eyes and stomped my feet in protest of writing anything that wasn't school related. Blogging had started to take up a huge part of my brain and I needed that part. I had started to walk a little off balance and run stop signs, it wasn't pretty. Because you know, travelling twice the speed of sound, its easy to get burned (Thanks for that line David Crosby)

One of my favorite bloggers recently said that she wasn't going to say she was going to stop blogging all together, because as soon as anyone said that they were done they were suddenly inspired to write like Shakespeare. So I won't say I am done, but I wont say I am coming back to it entirely either. Just wanted to let everyone know I am here. I have been trying to read all my blogroll and know that if I didn't comment I am laughing/crying/getting angry/reflective in the comfort of my bedroom. Hopefully the words and inspiration will come back eventually and you all will have one more blog to take up your time in the mornings.

The Game of Life

The fact that I may or may not come across as crazy to you people is something I struggle with on a day to day basis. The simple fact of the matter is I will never meet most of you face to face. Peoria, IL where I am at, has a wonderful group of local bloggers that I was really fortunate to stumble across when I first started this whole "blogtastic adventure" The fact that the community of bloggers in my local area is so great and so talented and so close nit and the fact that I am just at the cusp of starting to meet some of them and hang out with them and hopefully form friendships with them was pretty scary considering some of the topics I have posted about on here. I tell someone from California or Canada about my bouts with mental illness or the fact that I love John Denver well yeah so what, but when I know that people who I will most likely meet are reading it as well, or people that I have already met are reading it well quite honestly that scares the shit out of me. I never wanted to be a writer, or a philosopher, or an advice giver, or a comedian, hell I would settle for people just coming over here cause they need something to do while they are waiting for their oil to get changed (assuming bloggers carry around their laptops at all times waiting for good blog fodder to drop in to their laps...which lets face it I know we all do. right? Shit you mean that's just me??)

Anyway my point of this and I do have one (God I swear that is my favorite fucking line ever!) is that I don't mind coming off as little off balanced to my cyber peeps. When it comes to people I love, well yeah not so much. I strive to be as close to perfect as I can be for the people around me. I wouldn't call myself a people pleaser, but I like to make the people I love happy. I don't want to let anyone down or disappoint them in anyway. I am sure all good things, except when all that pleasing and acting a certain way and trying to be something interferes with life and the quality of said life. When it means sacrificng a part of who you are by nurture or nature or just by free will who you are to be what you think that person wants, well that's when it can become a problem. And that sucks It sucks big time. I don't really know how to change it either.

I get so incredibly scared of losing the people I love, because I have lost so much in the past that sometimes I overcompensate in that department. I either try way too hard for that person to love me or else I am the extreme opposite where I do anything at all to make the other person come to hate me (which to be honest the later is much more easy) The part of me that wants to believe that love will conquer all knows full well that it doesn't always do that. That sometimes despite our best efforts love will fail us and love will lose the battle and the war. Hell it can even lose the peace talks after the war. The paralyzing thoughts about if loving anyone is worth it because that love might someday cease to exist and then what? What is our purpose? I have alot of issues. I have alot of guilt and alot of shame and trust issues. I need to have perfection at times when I know that all I am capable of is mediocrity.

Relationships since my ex husband have run the gamete of being incredibly easy and fun and carefree (the therapist) not caring if there was a future, or a past even, just living in that moment and letting it all hang out...literally. To being so in love with someone that you don't want to go any further because you know that it will hurt so badly if and when it ends(present relationship). The whole reason why I went from one man to the next,the whole reason why I never wanted to have children, the whole reason why I never wanted to get another pet even, is the risk of loss. The risk of loss is so great that I just didn't want to even try and love. I have missed several wonderful opportunities in my life because of that fear. Some have ended by my own choosing and some others were forced to end because of that very reason.I think I may be at risk of losing the one person I love more than any other (non related) human being. The fact that I can get a little crazy, I can get a little scared and start to push and run and reason in my head all the ugly reasons why it will fail instead of see all the beautiful reasons why it could and should succeed is hurting us and it is a painful reminder of what I am not.

As I get older as my kids get older I am beginning to realize that I am in charge of this sculpture, this painting, this play this game called life or whatever other metaphor (or is it analogy?)you wanna give it, I am in charge of creating the life I want to lead for the next 40 years or so, the universe willing and I am wasting alot of it by imagination and fear. I don't want to fuck this up. I don't want to do something or say something out of fear and anger like in the past that will show a side to me that I may be willing to show to my cyber people but am terrified to show to the one I love more than anything.

I need some clarity.

To love is to risk loss.As the great CS Lewis wrote. The loss by abandonment or death or distance. The choice I need to make is if I am willing to make that risk...

Friday Frustrations-Do You Think Methadone Works on Caffeine Addicts?

Friday Frustrations is exactly like Tuesday Random Thoughts except without the catchy title or little banner or links to another site, or readers, but pretty much the same.

I am giving up caffeine and I compare it to probably what it is like giving up smoking, except when I quit smoking I felt like jumping off a cliff into a rocky ocean bottom and becoming one with the water as The Sound of Silence plays in the background.* Giving up caffeine is kind of more like me running into a brick wall and it hurts really bad, no soundtrack, no nice warm ocean water, just pain. Look for my book out called Million Little Pieces Part Two.

Because of my caffeine withdrawal I credit my most embarrassing moment which I no doubt will identify as my most embarrassing moment when I go back to giving a shit about things other than caffeine and pain. I was driving in my minivan yesterday when I got behind this slow car I mean resembling a funeral procession slow. I could not pass him due to all the other morons driving on the road at an abnormally slow rate. As I finally make my way around the driver I look out my window and mouth What The Fuck Asshole? (yeah seriously not my best moment but it was the addiction talking not nice sweet Sarah. I swear you don't wanna be around me when I haven't had any caffeine in two days its scary. Kind of like Amy Winehouse without a gin and tonic scary, but without the big hair, but with the smeared eyeliner and torn fishnets. ) So as I am mouthing those words to the driver I actually focus my blurring vision and realize that it is my pastor. The pastor I have very inappropriate dreams about. The pastor I haven't seen in two years because of my lack of faith and other heathonry I am involved in . He looks at me recognizes me, and then all his good thoughts about me I see dissolving into thin air as he realizes what I am saying to him. I am telling my pastor to fuck off. I am calling him an asshole. I see the hurt in his eyes as I speed off. It was not my best moment. Except there were no kids in the car so at least I might still be in the running for the Mother of The Year Trophy, which I think I should get anyway cause I bought about 100 boxes of Girl Scout cookies. But really only so I wouldn't have to sell any. I suck at being a salesman. I actually inadvertently convinced a friend of mine to buy an Audi instead of going to Eric's store to buy a Chevy. I have no idea how I lost that sale for him, but I guess its cause I am that good at sucking.

Then as I am slowly climbing out of my cuss the Pastor out hole. Thinking that I should be okay because I did in fact by 100 boxes of Girl Scout cookies and that has to count for something in god's eyes right? I think Jesus was a Boy Scout so maybe he can relate? The lady at Subway doesn't put my bacon on my roast beef sandwich. Which I should have taken as a sign from the group Save Sarah's Thighs and just been done with it, but no I had to rewait ( is that a word?)in line for another 5 minutes to get my sandwich as I mutter under my breath as I leave something along the lines of "What a bunch of fucking morons". Maybe I need to go back to church?

Then I get an email from my sgirlfriend who unbeknownist to me at the time started the begining of the email in the subject line. Please for the love of God if you do this STOP! Or else put a little disclaimer at the bottom of the message maybe somewhere along the lines of " Oh yeah I left all the important beginning of the invitation in the subject line so you may wanna go look up there and read it before you get totally confused and pissed off and write me an irritated email stating that you couldn't understand a word I wrote"

It is not a pretty site people! I am scaring myself. My kids are scared. the man at the gym at the front desk who I rely on for my daily 'Looking good Sarah' ignores me. Which I am usually a pretty confident person. And it is sad to say that I have pretty much come to rely on that guy for my shot of self confidence. Without it I just want to go home and put on my Walmart pants and pizza shirt** and crawl up in a corner and snort caffeine. It is a little bit pathetic.

They say any habit you are trying to break takes 21 days to kick. So I am holding out for day 21 and then see how bad I have gotten. I may need to be on Oprah with Lisa Ling when she outed that whole family that did heroine and then they got their kids taken away and sent off to separate rehabs.

*That was a scene from the best movie EVER Old School when Will Ferrel accidentally shoots himself in the neck with a tranquilizer gun.

**Pizza shirts are the waffle shirts that you can get anywhere that are best for eating/getting/ordering/spilling pizza on. You are welcome.

*** I totally am stealing the * idea throughout my post from Kurt. Cause he's cool and pretty much does Random Tuesday Thoughts every damn day and they rock, and I am pretty sure he gets to wear Walmart pants and pizza shirts daily and that brings him up a level in my book****

****For anyone that is wondering my book is pretty full right now, but I am still taking orders.

I know most of you are not going to believe that I gave up caffeine after reading this and some may even wonder if I have replaced Meth or crack, or speed for caffeine. But rest assured I am trying to detox my body of anything harmful so no drugs are being used at the moment. No animals were harmed in the making of this blog, only possibly the Pastor's believe in humanity and myself respect.