Spaghetti Harvest

This is my phrase of the day.

Glen has been out of town for the last 5 weeks, he should be back next week. I honestly haven’t felt like writing on here lately, not entirely sure why. Perhaps it’s because I don’t seem to be as lonely as I was when I started the blog? Maybe I don’t feel the need to vent, what with the in-laws on the other side of the country?

Anyway, I did get a letter from the recruiting center, they have declared me unfit due to “recurring bouts of depression”, however I can go see a psychologist for a psych evaluation and they will re-evaluate based on more current information. The first “bout” of depression I had was over 10 years ago, the second was when I was pregnant with my youngest. I hardly consider this a pattern. And frankly they’re a bunch of retards who don’t know squat about depression to view it as a pattern too.

Anyway, I decided that I would take this slow and take advantage of the access to the Psychologist to work on some issues that have been bothering me lately. It may even help me discover if this is the right path for me to take or not.

One of the things that has been bothering me lately is the need for “more”. Not material things, but I seem to be constantly feeling inadequate with everything in my life. The need/desire to be something better than I currently am. To go get that masters and become a clinical psychologist, or to become an officer….basically I want to feel respected and important and for people to come to me for help. I wish I was one of those people who can look at their life and *see* the positive things in it and be happy with it.

Today I talked to the psychologist for the first time, and I told him how I was feeling. That I was feeling rather ambivalent about my feelings on working, feeling worthy, and needing “more” from life. I was having a really hard time articulating my feelings on the issue, and as you probably noticed….I still am. I gave him a really brief overview of my life and my relationship with both my parents (with some raised eyebrows on his part) and how I wondered if what I’m feeling is tied into that experience somehow. He said something to me that made me think. When I was trying to explain this need for more, to never just be content with what I have, he asked me if it was a feeling of never being “good enough” for those people in my life who are important.

I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. That was it. I had never thought of it that way, to me it’s such a simple word to apply to how I’ve been feeling that it’s almost comic.

Well, not really comic. But now that I’ve had some time to think about the term a bit, I can honestly say that I have felt “unworthy” of love, and not good enough to be in the same room with many family members. The same ones that are supposed to love me unconditionally. The ones that are supposed to protect me from the boogey men. The ones that consider me an afterthought in their life.

Certain members of my family don’t even bother with cards at Christmas or birthdays anymore. You’d think a great grandma would send a card to her great granddaughters at their birthdays dontcha think? I try to convince myself that it isn’t a big deal. But it’s simply a continuation of the theme of my life, but now it’s trickling down to my own kids. I used to send cards, pictures presents to everyone for their birthdays and holidays, but it was never (or rarely) reciprocated. So I thought…fuck em.

I mean, I’ve been the one making the serious effort to ensure that my kids see their family. I’ve got one aunt that works for the damn airlines, and has never even been to my home. I’ve been on my own for almost 20 years, you’d think in that time someone could have visited once.

Now, the rub is trying to come up with how to work around this, or past it. How to get through it so maybe at some point I can look at my life and not find it lacking. Not feel the need to be better, or more important to make someone finally see me as good enough.

Now, we wait.

The medical officers have received everything that they need to determine if I’m “fit” or “unfit” for duty. Now, they’re not talking physically fit, they’re talking medically fit.

I do wonder and worry about the two bouts of depression and the PCOS. The one Medic (who was an older gentleman, who was clearly not familliar with lady bits) asked me about the first stint of depression 10 years ago, I told him that it was related to infertility and life situation. He changed the subject as soon as I said “infertility” and I was going to follow it up with the PCOS bit. THEN he accused me of not disclosing the PCOS. Pfft. As if cysts on my ovaries will prohibit me from doing my job. It’s an infertility issue (at least for me).

Anyway, I should hear in mid May if I’ve been rejected, by letter. Otherwise, no news is good news. How frustrating.

So, I ran my very first 5K race this morning, and I lived to tell the tale!

I got up this morning with a wicked stomach ache. Lately I’ve been waking up with a stomach full of acid, it’s due to the hernia I’m sure. Anyway, threw up before the race….it was necessary or I would not have been able to run, I would have puked during the race. It’s bad enough being the fat kid, and the slow kid. I didn’t want to add, the pukey kid to the list. I didn’t eat breakfast because I knew it would just sit there and repeat on me, or come back up. I took a few sips of water over about an hour before the race, to try and get hydrated.

They originally had me entered into the 10K, which caused much merriment and laughter on my part.

The run itself went well, except that they didn’t have one corner marshaled and there was no directional sign, so me and about 5 other people went an additional .55 of a Kms. Thankfully, I had my trusty GPS on me which tracked my route for me! I came in last, as I expected. I didn’t want to be last, but there were also no “walkers” there, they were all runners. I was beat by about a minute, maybe 30 seconds (I can dream right?).

My final time was my personal best. I’ve looked at my training since March and have really reduced my pace from about 11:30 to 9:10 (today). I’m uber impressed with myself. Unfortunately I have no idea what my actual time was at the 5K mark because I was too busy holding my hat from flying off. Lovely head wind the last kilometer. The pace on there says 16 something, that’s only cause I was stopped when I stopped my watch, I’d forgotten to stop it as I crossed the line.

This was a big time race, there were people there with Boston Marathon shirts racing, and being that it was organized by the military, and held on base, most, if not all the runners were in awesome shape. Being a beginner, I kinda stuck out like a sore thumb.

I should also add that at about the 4k mark, I developed a blister on each heel!! Where the hell did that come from? I’ve been doing the same (and longer) distances for months now, and have never gotten one. So, what gives??

Go over to my Creative Wanderings Blog, and enter for your chance to win $30.00 in free soaps and stuff from moi!

www.creativewanderings.ca/blog

Go. Now.

There are stories like this out there every day, that make me weep for the human race.

This is a video of a woman who decided to go have a cuddle with a polar bear at the Berlin zoo.

Really? What exactly did she expect when she went for a little swim?

I’m getting kinda sick and tired about how over protective our governments are getting for us. I mean, its one thing to expect companies to provide safe products for consumption - that’s a given, but a whole other when those same companies are required to put ridiculous warning lables on everything to save dumbass consumers from themselves.

Take seat belt laws for instance. If you’re over 18, you have the right to kill yourself any stupid which way you want.

Product warnings. I mean seriously, the fact that lawyers ask companies to stick this stuff on their items is mind-boggling. I have to place them on my own products as well. Things like “contains nut oils” (in case you didn’t realize that hazelnuts are nuts) “for external use only” (for the dumbasses who may want to use it as lube, and soap is not really internal sensitive tissue friendly) “discontinue use if irritation occurs” (self explanatory).

But some warnings that I’ve come across products make me giggle.

On a Sears hairdryer:
Do not use while sleeping.
Cause we all know that the best time to dry ones hair is while sleeping. The style just comes naturally.

On a bag of Doritos:
You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside.
Only those with ESP or magic powers will know if they’re a winner!

On a bar of Dial soap:
Directions: Use like regular soap.
Cause Dial is really detergent in disguise, anyway use all soaps made by me instead. Like a regular soap.

On some Swann frozen dinners:
Serving suggestion: Defrost.
I suppose you could always cook it too. I bet cardboard tastes better cooked.

On a hotel provided shower cap in a box:
Fits one head.
Just in case you got the crazy idea to stick your cat on your head, and try to fit you both into the shower cap. They’re only saving you from a trip to the hospital you know!

On Tesco’s Tiramisu dessert: (printed on bottom of the box)
Do not turn upside down.
Oh SHIT! Now you tell me!

On Marks & Spencer Bread Pudding:
Product will be hot after heating.
Um. Duh.

On Boot’s Children’s cough medicine:
Do not drive car or operate machinery.
Cause those crazy kids love to go for joy rides with 102 fevers and hacking coughs!

On Nytol sleep aid:
Warning: may cause drowsiness.
HA! I hope so, why bother taking it if you can’t shut out the screaming from the unlucky guy shoving a cat in his shower cap?

On a string of Chinese-made Christmas lights:
For indoor or outdoor use only.
Either way, I’m sure they’re pretty.

On a Japanese food processor:
Not to be used for the other use.
Ok. Clear as mud.

On Sainsbury’s peanuts:
Warning: contains nuts.
Again, see my own dummy label.

Really, these are only the tip of the iceberg. Check out some of your own products at home, to see what the stupid warnings are on some of them.

Part of our problem I think today is the dumbing down of our society. We have rules to protect the idiots from themselves. What we NEED to do, is let people take themselves out, like nature intended. I mean if someone wants to be a dumbass and do stupid shit, then so be it. How can we as a civilization move forward if we are forever holding up others.

I leave you with the woman who locked herself IN her car, who called 911.

h/t to Dust My Broom for the fodder…and for the title.

I’m sitting here, watching my children come down from the Sunday morning buzz of chocolate, and am wondering whatever possessed me to buy them so much garbage.

Every year I think when I get it out of the closet, that there isn’t enough. Then, when the kids have collected the chocolate, and we pool it all into a few bowls, I think, “holy shit, what the hell have I done?” The four of us will likely eat it however because I’m a chocolate snob, the waxy cheap crap doesn’t call me. The Reese bunnies and the robins eggs do though. Help me.

I am currently recovering from a very nasty cold. It started in my head, in the form of major sinus pain and pressure, and migrated into my vocal cords and then into my chest. Yesterday I was in a medicine induced coma, wondering when, if ever I would be healthy enough to run again. Seeing as its the first of the year, I figured that I was due.

I have a race in two weeks. TWO WEEKS. That I am trying to prepare for. Here are my wishes and goals for this race:

To do the race in less than 45 minutes
To not be last
To not be the fattest (there is nothing I can do about THIS point, but one can wish/hope)
To have great weather, and to be feeling awesome that day

Today I feel better, less medicine heady, even though I’m still on medication to help break up the green goo in my chest. Good thing too, otherwise there would be a riot from the peanut gallery over who was making the turkey.

Glen made cookies yesterday, apparently in my drug induced state I asked for cookies. I can’t TASTE cookies, but then, I suppose it was the fact that I’ve been wanting home made chocolate chip cookies for months now and voiced my desire. He, being a sucker for anything that I ask for, made cookies for me. Isn’t he sweet, that enabler husband of mine! So now there is a big tub of chewy chocolate chip (and mint chip, we apparently didn’t have enough) cookies that will taunt me foevah! Or until we eat them all.

The weight loss has stalled/plateaued a bit, which is fine, I suppose if I was working out more than once a week it may be going somewhere. It gets daunting though the watching every bite, and working out.

I need to get back on track with it.

The recruiting center is still processing my medical file. Now they want information on the Poly Cystic Ovarian Disease, blech. One of the doctors mentioned it, in the existing conditions portion of my forms. So, they jumped all over that and I had to send paper work to my OBGYN back in Alberta. *sigh* I suppose when one sees the word “disease” they get all freaky. It’s not like having cysts on my ovaries is going to prevent me from doing my job, but whatever.

The funny thing? Is that I had some recent blood work done, that I had requested and it shows that my hormones are within proper ranges now. They didn’t check a few other things, which could show that I have it, but the numbers were all good.

There are days that I feel completely broken.

That I don’t know what the social norms are, whats acceptable within society and how to behave.

For instance, the neighbor recently returned from New Orleans and gave the girls a big bag of mardi-gras beads to play with. I of course thanked her for her kindness, but I had also *meant* to send the eldest over to her house to say thank you, maybe draw her a picture to show her appreciation.

I forgot. And I feel like a failure for it.

I could write example after example after example. Thank you letters/notes for gifts after Glen and I got married? Not sent. Thank you letters for baby gifts for the eldest? Never sent. I hadn’t realized that I was supposed to until well after the event.

It’s not intentional on my part, I just don’t think about it. I don’t know what the norm is.

When I married Glen, apparently there was a WHOLE bunch of stuff I should have done and didn’t. Rituals and traditions that I failed to observe. No one told me.

This is a pattern with me. I feel like the “common courtesy” lesson was lost on me. Even personal hygiene was not taught to me. It wasn’t until I was 13 that my step mother educated me on the joys of changing your underwear, wearing deodorant and showering daily.

Can you imagine going through puberty not knowing these things?

I had no one to ask when I lived with my mother. I knew that if I asked about why kids were teasing me about being smelly after gym, she would accuse me of wanting to seduce her husband yet again everything to her concerning me was sexualized. I was her “competition”. I was embarassed for myself. I thought there was something horribly wrong with me, and the last thing I wanted to do was to draw attention to myself in or out of my home.

I feel like I’ve spent the last 30 years in a fog. I can’t remember large chunks (even years) of my life. Shouldn’t I have a better grip on the past? Shouldn’t I remember things more clearly? Shouldn’t I remember things, like getting married, or where I worked or where I lived?

Shouldn’t I remember happy things from my childhood and not anxiety, confusion and turmoil? I don’t want to remember those things. I want to remember happy things. I think what scares me the most is that I do have such huge blocks of missing time. What happened there? Was it just so inane that I chose not to remember? Was it horrific? Was it worth remembering? Why then do I remember things like my mother threatening to slit her wrists or her coming at me with a knife? Why those things and not others? The memory loss seems to go beyond even childhood, into my teenage years and into my early 20’s.

Is this normal?

My husband amazes me with his memory. I can’t remember what happened when we lived in this apartment or that apartment. I remember living there, and I can look at pictures and don’t recognize a thing or I look at pictures and it’s like looking at someone elses pictures. Going to work. Having a friend (who I drifted away from - likely because I’m a really shitty friend to have), the odd trip to the states. But most of my remembering comes from Glen. Usually in the form of my asking “what happened in this picture”. Or he’ll start talking about when I worked at “X” (and I’ve apparently forgotten that) or I was friends with “Z” and remember when we did “Y”. Um. No, I don’t remember.

I seriously want to know if this is normal? Am I even more broken than I thought I was already?

I then start to worry about old age. Or even 5 years down the road when my kids are that much bigger, how much of this will I have forgotten? How much of them will I forget. Its already happening, Glen will recall how the eldest was born, and what happened that day, and I remember it as if it is someone else remembering. Through his descriptions.

I feel so bloody disconnected from even myself. Its really no wonder that I fail to operate normally with other people.