Scraping the bottom of the barrel here....

In a funny, less introspective
turn of events,
my family and I went shopping a night or two ago
I am not a fan of leaving the house much
for a variety of reasons
but mostly because
having one two year old is hard to deal with
and I have two.

And it made me laugh
because they are so full of innocence
so full of wonder at
rows and rows full of carrots and lettuce
and they can't quite get the freezer doors open
and they insist on holding your hand sometimes
and holding the basket the other.
I never quite know which one.

They continuously stare at absolutely everyone
but when they see children their own age, they
get these giant grins on their faces.
And I try to remember that
when they are throwing fits and fists
and screaming and
I am being triggered.

Short and Angry

Things that
make me crazy
include the sounds
of cats yowling
and dogs howling
and children crying.

Why does everyone
insist on sound so
fucking mournful
when they are anywhere
near me?
I do not demand
peals of laughter
or screams of
mirth
but something
besides
incessant whining
and crying that
has nothing to do
with pain
and screams that
are simply a result
of demand with no
supply and a dog
who just won't be
quiet
would be nice
for a change.

Dear Anonymous

Two days ago, this is what happened.

~*~*~*~

Anonymous person on my tumblr: How could you let yourself go so much? Are you even trying to loose your baby weight?

My Answer: Wow. How brave of you to ask me that. Did it make you feel better? On another note, though, I’d probably be glad to answer your questions if you’d tell me who you are. Besides an asshole, of course.

~*~*~*~**~*~

This is what I wrote, afterwards:

Just a thought for the day after receiving my first piece of anonymous hate here on tumblr.

I am so sorry for everyone who has to deal with this bullshit. It does indeed hurt when random jackasses take the time and energy to write hurtful things. And on top of it, they are cowardly and weak for not telling you their names.

I don’t send things on anonymous. I believe in being accountable for the words you speak and write. It is why I am really careful with what I write and say to people. Have I made mistakes and fucked up badly? Of course I have. But I take responsibility and apologize.

So come off anon and say it to my face. Inasmuch as tumblr is, in any case. Maybe we can actually have a real-life conversation!

As a side note, being fat is not a bad thing. I’m not a bad person. Being fat does not equal bad. Being fat does not mean unhealthy either.

So, these are my thoughts.

~*~*~*~*~~*

Those were my thoughts at that point. It was two days ago.

Today, I am angry. Who are you, anonymous person, to question who I am and what I look like? Let myself go? Am I "even trying"? Here's the thing. I try every day. I try so fucking hard every day to get up out of bed and take care of my kids and feed everyone and on top of that fight huge amounts of depression and heartache. I have to schedule doctors appointments, make meals, plan outings, wash clothes, clean up messes and try not to swear like a sailor. 

I struggle, like many women, with my body image, but I'm not eighteen anymore. That body wasn't particularly well cared for either, I might add. I fucked up my body with a twin pregnancy and lack of exercise and a general lack of money and disregard for what I put in my body as well as a penchant for self loathing that manifests itself in myriad physical ways. I'm trying to change my lifestyle, a little at a time, but it is hard when you are trying to keep everyone's head above water. I am still working on loving myself. Some days I hate how I look. Most days I just tolerate it, because holy crap, I have so much else to worry about these days. Me being fat is truth. There is more fat on this body than there was 3 years ago. Some of that is my fault. Some of it isn't. I could work harder and diet more and lose all this weight. Some days I go for it. Some days I don't or can't. 

 I would assume that by saying this to me, you are trying to hurt me, and you would be correct. My love for myself isn't yet so great that it is not affected by what other people say to me. So congratulations, you have succeeded in what you wanted, which is to make me upset. Honestly, though, with me, it doesn't take much, so the reality is that you set that bar pretty low.

Some people are naturally gifted with the ability to juggle children. I'm not. It is a skill and a hard one to maintain and upkeep. Some days I enjoy it, others are I do not. I love my kids. They challenge me, excite me, make me love harder than I've ever loved. But I take my responsibilities to them seriously, which means some days all I can do is sleep at the end. 

But I am the same person I was. I have the same eyes. I love the same things. Fat or not, I am a decent person and at the end of the day, I am not making anonymous, hate-filled comments on the internet. I am myself. I am evolving and changing and gaining and losing and rising and falling. I am struggling and succeeding and failing. I am loving myself and hating myself and bettering myself even as I feel parts of me waste away. 

And anonymous, since I have a sneaking suspicion I may have known you in another life, I am sorry if and when I hurt you. There were and are deeply ugly parts of my life that even if I am open about, I am not proud of. I am sorry if I hurt you. Whoever you may be.  

Tuesday morning

Tuesday mornings with my sons
involve cartoons and cars
and trying to watch various shows
but mostly failing because my kids
laugh so loudly, it is impossible to hear
anything but the laughter.
and we make lots of breakfast
and try not to eat cookies
and steal shoes
and a chihuahua runs around trying to
lick everyone's faces.

Regardless of how I feel in the mornings
which is sick today
but more often tired or depressed or sad
there are smiles on their faces
and they are excited for the food and the toys
and the cartoons
and specifically, the ice maker.
Because pushing buttons makes
things come out!
It can get messy sometimes
or alternately at all times.

And now I'm tired today. It isn't cool outside
the children are quite obsessed with their birthday crowns
and I need to find something different to write about.
now.

Today

Writing about this is so hard.
I'd like to write about how the sun
is shining today
or how I feel a little better
than yesterday
Or how some of my fingers hurt
and I feel like my shirt is too wrinkly
and I'm supposed to be going to the
doctor
but I may skip it because I'm too tired
to drive out to Richmond on little to no sleep
and what I really want to do is
get my car registered
and then go get some Pho.
Yup, my standards are so high.
I also have a decent book
or two
or ten
to read so that makes me
happy.

But
I've been looking through
various and sundry areas of the internet
and I've notice
that there are prolific amounts of resources and
reading material for domestic violence victims and survivors
off all kinds
men abused by women
women abused by men
women abused by women
men abused by men
and children abused by parents.
however
there is very minimal help
for parents abused by their children.

Which is an odd situation,
I know
but what
about
them?
and
what
about their siblings?

Confessions, pt 1

"Oh my God
I am heartily sorry
for having offended thee......"

Just so you know
I haven't magically decided
that all aspects of Catholicism is
mine again, however that has
been in my head all day so perhaps I
shall confess my sins unto Blogspot
Perhaps in hope that someone will
read them and absolve me of all my sins.
Who the hell knows.

I confess
I used to watch Buffy and
Angel and Firefly while I
was supposed to be studying in
school. While Joss Whedon was
a good teacher in how to behave during
high school
 (don't drop your stake in school,
if it turns into a giant snake you should kill it,
 sometimes when you sleep with him, he turns evil,
sometimes they leave, but they come back for prom,
don't build sex robots,
Being evil isn't a forever thing,
Sometimes people die,
Love is like cookie dough,'
Ah, the pitter pat of tiny feet in huge combat boots )
I think I might've done better in that world.

I confess
Bisexual is a word
which is an adjective
meaning sexually attracted to both
men and women
and all through high school I believed
that this was a mythical sexuality
you were either gay or straight
which retrospectively was kind of a silly
view, seeing as I was attracted to both men and women
all through that time, inasmuch as there
are men and women in high school
which for the most part, we were not.
And inasmuch as I was attracted to people
which isn't much, as far as bodies go
for the most part, I just like personalities.
People can be pretty, or ugly, or gorgeous or plain
but a personality can radiate more than any
perfect eyes or flawless lips ever could
and I could tell you much more about the people
that I've wanted
then describing them physically.
I'm not perfect about this
but for the most part
if you are my friend
that is when the attraction comes.

I confess
that I don't know how
many times I've fallen in love
I still love so many people
but I have fallen in and out of love
since I was fourteen and now I am
twenty one
and the list just seem to long
and too painful
and the large hunks of my heart
 that once felt ripped out
are now merely specks and mean
nearly nothing
but memories of love and pain
and so I confess to loving too many
and too much
and forgetting too quickly.

I confess
to the love of the human body
I at times worship at the altar
of smooth skin and hard hands
of large eyes and perfect hair
and I confess, that even though
I don't like my body as a whole
being naked makes it feel so much better.
and I confess that I'd rather see someone
naked than in a Armani suit
or a Chanel dress.

I confess
that sometimes I get so frustrated
that I yell at my children
but in the next 30 seconds
I can turn it around and they
can make me smile.

I confess
that I have not been able to
eat a hot dog since elementary school.
and that I have to avoid Starbucks, because
I get addicted easily, but my favorite time to
get it is Fall, because of the salted caramel
and I love getting it Tuesday nights after singing
with my dad.
that I hate Pepsi
but love Mountain Dew
but love Coca cola products the best
that chocolate makes me depressed
but sometimes I sneak some anyway.
That potatoes and pasta are my comfort
food.

I confess
that when at some point we have a house
I will need half of the man cave. It will
be a woman cave. I need space and quiet
and a place to call my own too.
No special allowances for one spouse,
unless he doesn't want one, in which case
I'm up to take it!

I confess
that my interest in body modifications
isn't simply because I find it beautiful
and fascinating
but because I plan on modifying my body
many times in the future
because I am just now learning that it
is mine and what I do with it has nothing
to do with whether or not I am a good or bad
person.
Prepare yourself accordingly.

I confess
to believing for years that
Purity was important for your future spouse
that sex and marriage was only possible between
a male and a female
that being a lesbian was only for other people's
viewing pleasure
that being gay was bad
that my worth was only held between my legs
but I'm proud to say
that I've never worn a purity ring
and that I stopped believing in all that
years ago and it has been a far healthier
attitude. I still am ashamed that I can even
remember thinking this though.

Tuesday Morning

It is a Tuesday today.
I spent all of yesterday
taking my children to their
2 year old check up
Doctor's appointment.
and they were wonderfully friendly
up there
which made me feel a ton better

and the twins behaved beautifully
and my husband was off so we
were able to have lunch and
I got to spend one on one time
with my kids, which makes me
smile much more, because they
are so overwhelming when there is two
of them but with just one of them,
they are more manageable and
sweeter, because they aren't vying for my
attention at all.

They are watching me type
right now, and scolding me when I
occasionally yawn, but they love to watch me
and try to grab the keys
and they wave when they walk away
and yell at each other
and laugh hysterically. I have to yell at
them to be careful sometimes, or to
stop climbing, and stop trying to reach
the cookies! But beyond the slight
crazy, they are fantastic.
My brain is only a little cracked.

Having lunch with my husband
was fantastic.
It was quiet and lovely, just how
I like spending time with him.
and I miss what we only had
for a little while before getting pregnant
time just us together
as newlyweds.