*Where MY Wild Things Are

mischievious max (Photo credit: massdistraction)

Just call me Max, because tonight I live in my own storybook. I’m in a cranky, bad mood and while no one sent me to my room, I almost wished they had. It started off with not knowing where my husband was, he was missing. He didn’t leave a note but he could have left one word on a napkin and that would have been fine. He also left our whining dog, prowling around the house while I was trying to rest and get a little sleep because I felt extra crummy. It wasn’t fair.

It was a bad day for Fibromyalgia and chronic pain, my jaw hurt so much, I had ear pain and TMJ and a headache and no one cared. I wasn’t able to sleep because my dog was annoying me. She wouldn’t even settle down on the bed, up and down, up and down she jumped and I was too tired and achy to get out of bed to put her in the crate. Friends tell me I’m in a Fibro Flare but all I know is that I feel worse, much worse. The weather gets damp and now it’s pouring buckets like my expectations and mood, dumping down on the roof, bypassing the dirty, leaf-filled gutters and ending up in big, thick, muddy puddles. I don’t have rain boots and I can’t play anyway anymore.

I ended up eating a tuna sandwich standing up, alone, in the kitchen, with one foot crossed over the other and I ate it so fast that I didn’t enjoy it one bit. I even gave the dog, “the whining one” some of it. Just as I am shoveling down the sandwich, Mr. Last Minute Ambulance Aider comes strolling in with his fake, perky voice and I feel even angrier. I march up the stairs with the rest of my crappy dinner and the dog follows me for food, not for compassion. My only hope at feeling better is getting to eat the two last bites of the brownies that we saved and I am NOT going to share.

The last two weeks haven’t been good at all, okay, they sucked.  I had the hospital procedure and the horrific mammogram both done this week and I know it’s over but maybe not over one hundred percent because now I’m fuming inside like a chimney with an angry orange fire.  A new friend that I met over the summer,” sisters in spirit,” never sent me a birthday card when I thought for sure she would and I miss not having a dad. I believe in the good in people and then they disappoint me. At the same time a new friend thinks I should self-publish my blogs into a book with photographs. What? It came out of left field for me too. I guess we need to learn about balance sometimes.

My daughter is away at college and is sick again and I hate that. I offer to come up there or asks if she wants to come home but she says “No” and I worry, no matter how old they are and then I say out loud ” I wish you weren’t in college so far away.” I probably should have kept my mouth shut too but I couldn’t.

I am going to sneak down to the kitchen and at the end, I do announce taking the two brownie bites because after all, my husband wasn’t exactly doing a bad thing. They didn’t even taste good. I know that this stupid, horrible, unjust day will look much brighter in the morning when the sun shines, when my jaw stops hurting, after a good night’s sleep. All I’ve been doing is whining, I guess my dog and I have a lot in common.

*Based on the enchanting book:Where The Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak

Sorry, Whitney, I Have No Tears Left

Whitney Houston Central Park, NYC September 1, 2009 (Photo credit: asterix611)

Sure, I gasped when I read the headlines last night that Whitney Houston, an incredibly talented singer had died. I gasped in shock for the unexpected news but after that, I didn’t cry. I couldn’t, I had nothing to cry about. So, instead of being sad, I felt incredibly MAD. Mad like, is anyone going to LEARN something about drugs and alcohol (allegedly) and using and abusing? How many more people have to die before someone gets it and says “You know, might not be such a smart idea to party all the time.” WHAT DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?

We have lost, NO, we have not lost them, they lost themselves to drugs and alcohol (yeah, yeah, allegedly). Do I really need to name them? Fine, Michael Jackson, Amy Winehouse. Go back in time: Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, and I am just listing a few examples from hundreds.  Such amazing talent from so many people gone, because they wasted their lives partying. I know addiction is an illness and it’s hard to beat but there are places to go to and programs to attend if you really, really want to stop and change.

Where was her family? Dionne Warwick, wasn’t she her aunt? Did Whitney have a mom named Cissy? I could be wrong. Cousins? Best friends? Old, clean, boyfriends and girlfriends? WHERE THE HELL WERE ALL OF YOU? I know it’s not your fault, it’s Whitney’s. Whitney, you had so many YEARS to try and get sober and clean. Did you once think of your daughter. My G-d, how selfish is that? Does the word “intervention” sound familiar to any of you?

I’m just frustrated with this culture you “stars” live in and I know it is not limited to celebrities. Are we glorifying these singers/actors/stars with our moments of silence and our adoration? Well, now we must buy ” The Best Of…….”They killed themselves, willingly or not, for a long time using drugs and alcohols and pills and whatever else was printed on their personal menus. Enough is enough. They are not heroes to me. They are poor, lost souls who had everything and lost it for fame.

On a more personal note: Lindsey Lohan: I’m still watching YOU.

Feeling Purple by Peter (9 1/2)

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I feel purple today, dark purple. I’m cranky and in a bad mood. I’m being bothered by my stupid family and everyone is talking all around me.  I want to kick my heels into walls and leave black marks. I want to take my fists and punch lots of holes in the walls and it wouldn’t even hurt me; I wouldn’t feel a thing but whatever I touched would be in really big trouble. I want to do it so badly, maybe I will.

I want to take my chicken noodle soup with smashed up crackers and toss it on the rug and not feel sorry that I did it at all; I would let my dog eat it all up because my dog is the only person I like. I hate everyone. “Screw you, you idiot” I would scream over and over and no one would tell me that it was bad language. After that I would laugh and laugh and not care about anything. I would eat whipped cream straight from the can right into my mouth, as much as I wanted. After that I would have ice cream sandwiches, maybe three of them. Or four.

Everybody is mean and stupid and a poop-head and I would tell them but if my mom heard she would give me a time-out. As if I cared. I would just PLAY with my dinosaurs and have fun anyway. Like when mom and dad took away dessert from my sister and me for three days and we pretended to care a lot but we had a secret pact, we didn’t even care but THEY thought we did, it was awesome. Someday if I become a dad, I will let my kids do whatever they want and I won’t be mean like my parents are cuz I will be cool and not strict. Signed, ME.

By Peter, AGE 9 (and a half)

Aren’t We All Damaged In Some Way?

I’m fuming and furious about a recent post that mentioned me and another friend. For those of you who have read my post ” I Am A Tree” you know I’ve been working hard to keep my roots in tack, to play with the wind instead of fighting it, to learn to swim with the tide instead of against it. It’s not an easy job for anyone. Lately, however, I feel bad vibes spinning around in circles over my head. I will not let them land, I am fighting them, I refuse to drown myself for other people’s mentally ill and emotionally deprived lives. I have asked this person to get help many times. I’ve received suicide notes that bring me to tears, I have contacted professionals on how to handle the situation. I can only do the best I can do in any given moment; that’s true for all of us. However, I will not be talked about by other members when I am right here, present, front and center.

I don’t need to name names like other people did. I will not stoop so low. I also will not make idle threats, again and again, about leaving Facebook or blogs, or certain groups, and then reappearing after a day or two. I have tried to help people many, many times but I am not a doctor, a psychiatrist or a judge. I am a friend who wants to be nice to others, and I don’t want to be taken advantage of nor do I want any nice thing I may have done turned into a passive-aggressive diatribe.

Let’s face it, it’s a bad time of year for EVERYONE. I can tell you my dad died New Year’s Eve or whine about my childhood and not being understood but I am a 55-year-old woman who is now responsible for her own actions. I love my family, I love my friends, but I am not responsible for their actions.

I don’t like others speaking about me, as if I were not alive or present. Do I have problems? Yes, WHO DOESN’T?  We’ve had a horrid year but you don’t see me wallowing in it. ALL OF US HAVE PROBLEMS, IT’S CALLED BEING A GROWN UP. Life moves on, and I with it. If someone needs help, desperately needs help than they should do what they can to get it. If it means being an in patient, so be it, you would be safe there and not be able to hurt others or yourself. You need to take a role in your recovery especially when you have made your feelings clear about how you feel about your demise.

I am not a mean person, I try to be kind, I try to be a good person. I have many flaws but I am losing patience and respect. Whoever needs help, please find it, there is always a way if you try hard enough and having a spouse that you are HONEST with makes it even easier. Take a break from being on-line and concentrate on GETTING better. Everyone would welcome you back. Enough is enough. It takes a lot to make me fume, but I am at that point now. Thank you to another new friend who warned me about the posting, I sincerely appreciate it. (or am I not allowed to even say this?)

Get help, intense, emotional help. You are a talented person, you just have lost your way. You will get better, I am sure, and we all care. Don’t lose sight of the GOOD you do have in your life. Friendships last through many ups and downs, they are not that fragile, please get the help you need. I will be here with cheesecake and toast with butter and honey and cheddar cheese.

*This was written a couple of days ago, after the first blog. I decided not to post it. Now after the addendum, you wanted comments. Here they are. I care a lot but you have crossed the line. Please get HELP.

my day by sherry

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my dday waas verry diffrent from yesssterdat, funnyhow ur day cann be really bad andd scary and u  want to  just cry an cry. thaats what i felt like   today. mommy and pops were all tryin  to  preetend to b hapy but i culd know thaat its was just becaaause  i was stil their. i felt that in my bakk as i walked out the dorr so i culd catch the lellow school bus. my hair waz in 2 long braidss, my feet werr flyin in my new red lite up ssneakers witch ar so ammasing!!! andd i had a baloni and merican cheese sandwitch in my hello kitty! lunch boxx.i dont know whats goin on really but i know it feels kinda wrong and badand sad. i hav a brover who is just makin me feel jumpy and sad and mad andd that shouldnt happen. isnt family suppo two be nice tto family? no iguess thats not just so for some peepel, everyone is different i know.my teacherr told me that. i was sitting on the playground when  jessie came over to me and u know what, she didn’t do anythin but sit right down next to me and that was relly good. it was plenty, she asked me to play wit her like jump rop or hopsscotch or use   chawk but i didnt want to play or jump rope or hoppscotch.i just wanted someone to know who i wasss and what i was feeling like and jessie was all quiet and she put her arm around my neck and then we both smiled. smiled like we had won the lottery like on tvee or something cuz that is just how it felt. we both felt happy for no reason, well, no special reason at all. after that we held hands an went bakk incide. me and jess, we are best freinds now.

wen i gott home my brooter  said some  baad words and slamme the door an every ones voics were sso loud and screamin. my brother sam, i am, is 14 and hes in some kiind of badd truble, somes ttimes gronups dont listenn enuf but i no something was wronng and when i came baaak from skool, i was not  so hapy anymore andd at leaast i knew tht tmmrrow woud be sccool again  and i woud ssee Jessie aand she wood still be my bestest friendd. so i no thaats  really good an i donnt hav to say a word if i don’nt wan to.