Posts Tagged ‘30 Days of Truth’

I like to think I’m fairly forgiving of myself.  If I weren’t I’d be more concerned about how others perceive me.  I really don’t care about things like that, as long as I can sleep at night, it doesn’t matter.  So, this one is a little hard.

If I’m honest, there’s not many things I’d change that I’ve done in my life.  I may change how I handled a situation, or in hindsight my reaction to someone or something, but overall there’s only one thing I feel totally guilty about.  It’s a little odd though, because even though I feel guilty, I can rationalize it all day long.

Side note: I just realized this is my second mention of this (in 3 posts) since I started this 30 day thing…which is a huge statement to myself how much I really dwell on it, and how much it has affected my life.

My mom and me:)

The day my mom died I woke up with a sore throat, cold, fever.  I still went to work, and as I’ve stated before just kept on trucking, because she was way sicker than I was.  It was very normal for me to just keep on going even before she was in the hospital.  I’d reserve my sick days for the kids to be out of school.   By the time I left work at 3:30 and headed down to the hospital I was losing my voice, and had to wear a mask to go visit her so I didn’t get her sick(er).  Around 6-7 that night, we had spoken with her doctors, and had decided that she had been through enough, at her request all outside testing, poking, prodding, guessing was done.  She was only to be made comfortable, with medicine, and allowed to rest peacefully without being constantly bugged.  My sister left to get a shower and clean up since I was feeling ill, she decided to stay with mom through the night, which was the plan anyways since she was there from out of town.  Around 9 pm Ursula left, and I was hanging with mom, she was watching tv off and on, and telling me to eat cough drops in between her dozing off and me coughing and waking her up.  At 10 pm, she looked at me and said “Pam and Terry (longtime friends) are going to come up since they are in town for their anniversary, they’ll be here any minute, you go home and get some rest.”  I argued with her, that I could wait until they got there, or until Ursula got back, which was supposed to be any moment now.  I steadily argued and told her I’d be fine, 1 hour wasn’t going to hurt…then I lost my voice completely.  She lifted her head up and said “go home.”  So I did.  She promised me she would be fine.  She lied.

I can’t at all blame her.  It’s not like it was new information that she was that bad off.  To explain how we all dealt with it, we had many conversations, my sister, myself and mom, that there was to be no “visiting us from beyond” or haunting us or anything of the like.  She was informed that neither one of us wished to see her again once she was gone.  We also had a VERY stern talk with her that she was not allowed to die on my daughter’s birthday…my mom’s mom died the day after my birthday.  She assured us she would do no such thing.   That night at around midnight, my sister was with my mother, and things started to go downhill.  I was at home asleep, as ordered, and around 2 am the phone rang.  I didn’t even answer it, I knew.  She did it…she died without me there, and on J’s birthday.  She was right “you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

So…my something is I have to forgive myself for not being there, for myself, for my mom, and for my sister, who we both promised we wouldn’t leave the other there to deal with her actual passing alone.  I should have.  I was there every day before that day.  I had made it without sleep, or little sleep, without food, or hospital food, bored, concerned, all of it.  But sick I couldn’t do.  I have thought that maybe God knew I couldn’t handle it, or that I’d handle it better if I weren’t there.  I don’t even know that I’ve handled it after this long.  In the end, I listened to my mom…who was still being a mom (from her hospital bed) and telling me what to do and to take care of myself, even at the end of her life.


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I’m already scared.  My first instinct is to say my hair, but that would be very shallow of me.  Next thought is my butt…again, shallow (but true, it’s great).  I could venture to say that my uncanny ability to not give a crap is what I love about myself, but that’s misleading.  I do give a crap, I just choose not to let you know it.

Here goes.  It’s my blog, I can say what I want.

“You’ve come a long way, baby!”

I love that I am fairly normal.  I’m not going to get into how messed up my life has been, or who’s screwed me over (that would be one long post), or what crap I’ve gotten myself into/has come at me.  If I did get into all that, you’d be bored and I’d get depressed.

I will say that I’ve had more than one occasion in which it would have been no surprise to anyone around me had I decided to:

  • run away to a place where no one could find me
  • slash a tire and throw a brick
  • invest in a gun and use it
  • lose it and be admitted
  • write a book about it and not mince words (I still wanna do this one)

I, being the strong woman I am (hush), decided to keep on trucking.  I picked myself up, sometimes with the help of others, and sometimes in spite of others, and kept going.  Sometimes I had everything at my disposal, and other times nothing.  One of my major faults (there may be more than one) is that I am not good at displaying my emotions.  Most of the reason I’ve made it to where I am today in one piece is that I am good at not displaying my emotions.  I get done what has to be done, and deal with the specifics later…or never, whatever.

I try to get to know people, what makes them tick, why they are who they are, what bothers them, and in doing so, I’ve learned that I am fairly normal.  I haven’t done any of the things I said I could have ^ up there.  My kids, though not perfect, are turning out pretty normal.  I can’t blame them for doing things I did, I wish they could learn from my lessons, but they are just like me and have to do things their way.  I’m getting off topic.  What I am getting at is everyone is messed up in some way, or some degree, and we all have ways of dealing with it.  There are people I never thought would be where they are today (in a bad way), and I feel for them, but at the same time it makes me realize how normal I am and how well I turned out despite the stuff I’ve been through.


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I’m already behind on this.  So let’s not waste anymore time on pointing out what I hate about myself.  I swear, they aren’t playing with this “truth” crap.

Here’s the thoughts going through my head right now (I’m about to prove how ADD I am):

  • What do I hate about me
  • This is going to kill the self confidence I try to convey
  • My “I don’t give a crap what you think” attitude is gone
  • That Eminem picture D just showed me is hot
  • I hate the headache I’ve had for 4 days
  • I hate folding laundry (Thank God D folds it most of the time), I also hate putting it away…I bet he’s noticed
  • He’s amazing
  • I hate that I have lots of cute clothes and I usually end up in Pj’s or jeans
  • Shrek is perfect for Fiona
  • I hate that I just sat here after typing “I hate” and watched 5 minutes of Shrek

Alright.  I don’t really hate too much about myself.  I mean, yes, I whine about cellulite, of which I’m told I have none, but I know what it looks like and it’s creepin’ up on me.  I hate that I have black hair and the greys are taking over.  I hate that my skin is doing weird things that it’s never done before I lived in NC.  I hate that I am more “Roseanne” than “Rachel Ray/Martha Stewart/Betty Crocker.”  But those are all things that I just deal with, I’m not in a deep depression or trying to actively change those.  I’m also not a person that sits around thinking about what I hate about myself.  I’m more on the “this sucks” and then moving on track.  I also have the support of someone that dismisses my insecurities the moment they are voiced by telling me how crazy I am to even mention something like the dimple on my thigh…he loves everything about me, so there is no need for me to be down on myself.  I also have pretty good self esteem, and always have.

Which brings me to what I really do hate about myself.   It’s also going to be the first time I really have put it out there to people other than those that know me well.  So, here goes, I’m not perfect – and here’s why.


Don't be fooled...I'm not alone:)


When my mom passed away 3.5 years ago I was go, go, go, working, picking up kids, going to the hospital to be with mom, cooking dinner, and sleeping for 4 hours and getting up and doing it all over.  I did that for about a month.  The day she died, I got sick, double ear infection, bronchitis, and strep.  It was not fun.  I think I just ran myself into the ground because, she was the one in the hospital bed sick, and what right did I have to say I was tired, or I wasn’t feeling well, or I needed rest?  So, she was gone, and I lost my job because I took off an extra day to “grieve” which was actually a doctor ordered day because I was still sick.  That was the beginning of my finding a way to work entirely from home.

After about a month, things started to take a weird turn.  I had no desire to be in the corporate world, I didn’t miss the cute clothes and shoes.  I was very happy staying at home, seeing the kids off to the bus, hanging out with my dogs, having coffee (tea) with the neighbors and being home when the kids got off the bus, cooking dinner etc.  It was nice.  It was calm, and different and what I needed.  I had lost my desire to make lots of money and found the desire to be a mommy again – not that I lost it, it was just overshadowed by the desire to “contribute” to the household.

About  month later, I got sick and was put on an antibiotic, which after years of wondering where this all started, I think the medicine has a tad to do with it.  The antibiotic has numerous warnings for those that are predisposed to anxiety, depression, and abnormal fears and phobias (I found this out AFTER taking it)…enter me.  I’ve had Anxiety attacks/Panic attacks for years.  They started when my youngest was a baby, I’d wake up shaking and zooming around the house at 3 am unable to relax or sit, thinking I was cold and I’d put on more clothes and get back in bed…and sleep through the rest of it.  It wasn’t until I told my sister what was going on and she said “yeah, that’s an anxiety attack” – thanks, I was doing good not knowing.  So, here I am, totally moving along in life for 8 years dealing with the occasional anxiety attack, and then mom dies, and then I’m on this medicine that basically kick starts you into these things.  Day 2 of meds, I was driving and felt dizzy…pulled over and called my then husband and said “I’m a mile from home, I can’t drive, and I don’t know what’s wrong” – his answer “I can’t do anything, I have to pick up a game.”  Gee, thanks asshole.  So, I sat there, freaking out, 1 mile from home, for about 20 minutes.  I called my neighbor and begged her to come get me.  She was there in 1.5 minutes.  Since that day, I have driven alone 3 times.  Once 2 months later to pick Cody up from school, and you can ask my sister, I sat in the driveway crying, begging her on the phone to tell me I could just go inside and not have to be in my car.  She talked to me the entire 3 mile drive and I stayed quiet, crying and driving.  The second time was driving home from Wed night youth group where I dropped Cody and his friends off, that was a 2 mile trip, and on the way home I called my sister again and told her how proud I was of myself.  These trips were over 3 years ago.  The last time was February this year when D called and said he had arrived from NC and had pulled into my sisters subdivision…that motivation is self-explanatory.  Every time we pass the spot I still remember me stepping out of the car, and him stepping out of the truck.   Grrrrr baby.

So, as you can see…it’s a huge impact on my life.  I hate it. With a passion.  I can’t drive alone.  Surprised?  Eh, it’s not a huge deal.  I’m thankful I have found a man who can live with it.  I feel like one day I might drive alone again.  I might not.  I hate it enough that I’ve read books, prayed HARD, begged, searched online, told myself it’s stupid, told myself it’s normal.  It’s not going anywhere.  Just as easily as that switch was turned on, one day it will turn off.  In the meantime, I’ve adjusted life to fit what I can and cannot do.  Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass, but sometimes it’s not even an issue.  Lots of people don’t like things, can’t do things, freak out at things.  This just happens to be mine.  I’ve also learned that the driving alone thing has spawned the not being alone at all thing, which is a whole other post.  I don’t know which one started which.  I think it was the driving thing first.

So, what I hate about myself is that I can’t drive alone and I don’t know how to make the paralyzing fear go away.

When I read some of the other things people have posted for this “Day 1” deal, I’m happy that mine is something that isn’t physical.  It’s not my hips, or my chest, or my nose…all of which I would have altered a little if it were free, safe and not against my husband’s wishes.  He prefers me the way I am, which is another reason I love him.


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I found this little gem on a few blogs and decided it would help me post more often, or at least have a topic to type about when I have writer’s block.  From what I’ve read it’s being done by many people, so please feel free to take it and do it on your own blog!

If you’re new to blogging, like me, you can click on the tag “30 Days of Truth” over on the right hand margin —–> and a new window will open with all of MY related posts in it, assuming you want to know that much about me.  If you click on the tags/categories below this post it will take you to posts with the same topic across all of WordPress.

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself


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