Girl With Issues

Damaged, but not broken.

bipolar

You will never understand “my tired.” When I say I am tired it is not because I stayed up too late or woke to early, or exercised to hard that day.  I am not tired because I was out with friends all night.

I am tired of being me; I am tired of the constant noise that is my mind, the rollercoaster of thoughts and moods.  I am tired because I am fighting with something every day.

Living with mental illness is not fun; it is a daily struggle, a love-hate relationship with myself. Sometimes, it is fearing my own mind.

When I say “I am tired,” I can feel the fatigue in my bones, in my soul. It is a tired, which never goes away. It is exhausting battling something that you cannot see, but you know that you cannot let it win.

The days that I have to put on my pretty face, my mask of happiness and pretend that everything is perfectly okay in my world, are the hardest.

No one knows how hard I am working every damn day. I don’t get a break. I never get a moment’s rest.

You see, I am alright with that. This is a disease that wants to rob me of everything that I will experience tomorrow. It wants me to give up, it wants my life.

But, I am not going to let it. I am going to fight it one day at a time, and every day that I fight will be the fight of my life.

So, when I say “I am tired,” know that I mean it, know that I am fighting to make sure that I can say “I am tired,” another day.

I saw a post on my Facebook this week and the woman had bought these rubber doorstops for her kids or nieces or nephews, after Sandy Hook (I think), or one of the other school shootings. She told them to keep them in their book bag, because if they ever found themselves in that type of situation, they can use it to stop/jam the door in hopes that the shooter will not enter. Even if the shooter shoots out the lock or window to the door, using this little doorstop can give them time to hide, maybe escape, maybe the shooter will not want to deal with trying to get the door unjammed and move along.

Y’all…… I SHOULD NOT BE SITTING HERE AND CONTEMPLATING ON WHETHER OR NOT I SHOULD BUY THESE FOR MY CHILDREN!!! I SHOULD NOT be going over in my head how to have this conversation with my 13 yr old, 11 yr old, 10 yr old or 8 yr old, on what to do if they are ever in a situation where there is an active shooter.

I mean seriously, it LITERALLY HURTS MY HEART, AND MY SOUL, thinking about this. Never in a MILLION YEARS would have thought that one day I would potentially be buying rubber doorstops to give to my BABIES to carry with them, in case someone decides to waltz in their school and shoot it up, and hope that this little piece of rubber could possibly save their life.

You buy a doorstop to keep a door open, NOT TO KEEP A SHOOTER OUT!

What do I say to them? “Hey guys Mommy bought these for you to keep with you at school. I want you to make sure you have them with you at all times, in case you need to jam the door to prevent yourself and your classmates from getting murdered.

Followed by, “No baby, don’t cry, I know your scared. This is just a precaution, a safety measure, it is a just in case kind of thing. No baby, no I do not think someone is going to come into your school and kill you. I will never let that happen. This is more for Mommy to have a peace of mind. You will be fine. I promise.”

Is that what I need to do? Lie to my children, so that they will go to school and feel safe, when I don’t even feel safe letting them walk out of the front door. Knowing that if someone did decide to go to their school and shoot it up, THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO TO PROTECT THEM. I CANNOT STOP IT, BECAUSE I AM NOT THERE.

So…… Is this what my children’s safety, their well-being, THEIR LIVES comes down to? Deciding on if I should purchase a rubber doorstop and hope that they can jam the door before the shooter gets there? I do not know about everyone else, but I can’t live every single day in fear, because my children are in school and I know that it is a possibility I may not see them that night because somehow a student, or adult got a hold of an AR-15 or whatever the hell kind of gun there is and decided that today they would play God or the Universe or they were the person who gets to pick and choose who lives or dies that day.

The fear that I have is REAL, it is SUFFOCATING, it is that slow build up of pain in your chest, that slowly tightens, causing your heart to beat so fast it may explode and everything is so tight so heavy you cannot breathe. IT HURTS. No one should feel like that everyday, especially when it comes to sending your children to school, school is supposed to be a safe place. What do we do to fix this? I do not want to leave it up to a rubber door stop on whether or not my child lives or dies. Do you?

So, I am not quite sure how the whole blogging thing works…. But I am going to give it a shot.

I have to say, I have done an outstanding job raising my children, thus far. They are well behaved, well mannered and do very well in school. Now, don’t get me wrong, they have their asshole moments, but what child doesn’t? I am getting tired of getting calls from their schools because little Johnny or little Sally put their hands on one of my children, or did something to them. My children always handle the situation well, tell a teacher, vice principle etc. These calls are becoming so frequent that I am so close to telling my children “When you get to school walk right up to little Johnny or Sally and punch him or her right in their nose and tell them to stop messing with you. And the next time they mess with you they will get an ass whooping and not a little nose punch. When the school calls to tell me that you did that, I will pick you up and take you to get ice cream.” But, I won’t, because that is not right and they don’t know what Johnny or Sally are learning (not learning) at home. Or what their home life is like.
Parents need to start raising their children to be respectful human beings and not let them grow up with no values or morals. In the end, it is the child that will suffer from the lack of parenting, not the parent. There is so much hate and evil in the world, why would anyone want to add to it?
It is so scary and frustrating to be raising children in the world we live in, and it shouldn’t be. Damn, it is not hard to teach a child what is right from wrong. Just do it! Do something when little Johnny or Sally harass, bully or assault another child. Step the fuck up, get off your ass, get off your phone, put your drugs/alcohol down (if that is the case) and be a GOD DAMN PARENT!! DON’T FAIL YOUR CHILD, BECAUSE YOUR PARENTS FAILED YOU, OR BECAUSE YOU FAILED YOURSELF!
Being able to be a parent and have a child, whether it is your biological, adopted, stepchild or even if you had to use a surrogate, is a gift and a privilege. There are too many people who do not understand that. They cannot see the precious miracle that is right in front of their face. Wake up people because you’re going to lose that miracle one day and you’ll have no clue what hit you. Stop failing your children, before it is too late. Embrace them, love them, teach them, guide them in the right direction, they are our future, and by the look of the job some people are doing our future is looking pretty damn bleak.
Change is not a bad thing if it is for the right reasons. There is a lot that needs to be changed right now.

Rant over.

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Last Tuesday, March 20th my world had a serious dose of reality, that it really did not need. I would have been fine not experiencing any of this.

It started out as a normal Tuesday morning, I was up early getting myself ready for the day, then I woke my nuggets up and got them ready for school and off to daycare. I was 10 minutes away from my job when my daycare provider called at 8:20 and said something unforgettable, “There has been a shooting at Great Mills High School, so far one fatality and multiple injuries. I am going to pick the kiddos up, I know they are not in that school, but they are close and I want to make sure they are safe.” Now, she only has my three littles who are in elementary school, my oldest is in middle school. I told her I was turning around and going to pick up my oldest nugget.

I am not gonna lie, I was hysterical. At this time we did not know if the shooter was a student, if it was a mass shooting, or if it was some crazy person who decided to go around and shoot up the schools. The ONLY thing I knew was that I need to get to my kids, and find out if my little cousin and my friend’s daughter- who both go to the high school were ok. Thankfully they were both okay, I made it safely to my children and hugged them extra tight.

We found out that this was a boy who shot his ex-girlfriend, injured another student and then took his life.

You know…. It is one thing when you hear about these shootings on the news, in another state… To experience it in your own community, so close to home, is the worst thing ever. I cannot and I will never be able to put into words the emotions, thoughts and feelings that I went through that day. It was so scary, but indescribable.

This was my nightmare, it came true, it happened within in walking distance from my home. I had written a post not too long ago about rubber doorstops, and if I should buy them and hope that they would save my children’s lives in a possible shooting. This SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED.

But, it did and sadly it will happen again. Our little community is still repairing itself from this tragedy. Two young lives were lost, for no good reason.

The time has come for a solution, to protect our children in school. We need to figure this out.

I spent the rest of that night basically dying. The other first time experience was the flu type A. I had never had the flu before. I could have gone the rest of my life not experiencing it. I am not sure who’s idea the flu was, but they are giant assholes.

 

My friends can tell you, the weirdest shit always happens to me.

This is going to be a short post, just wanted to share my experience last Friday.

I was on my way to work, and I was eating a banana that I had grabbed when I was rushing out of the house that morning. I finish my banana and I am sitting at a stoplight, so I threw the peel out of my window into the grass. Nothing wrong with that, right? It is biodegradable, some animal or bugs will get a nice snack, no harm done.

WRONG!

Next thing I know I am being pulled over by a state cop, who proceeds to inform me that I have been pulled over because I just LITTERED! I was so confused, never in a million years would I think a banana peel would be considered trash, I mean it is biodegradable. When I think of littering I think of actual trash- paper, plastic, foam containers, etc.

Not only did the very nice officer educate me on the fact throwing food out of your window is littering, he also gave me a ticket for $140. Happy Friday to me!!!!

Never again will I throw anything edible out of my window. Lesson learned.

 

Yes. You read that correctly. I need to stay away from serial killers.

I have an extremely overactive imagination and a fascination with serial killers, cold cases, murderers, etc. Do not worry it is a healthy fascination, I am not taking notes or anything. I just want to know what makes them tick, why is it they do not possess the conscious ability to know that murder is wrong and keeping extra body parts in your freezer IS NOT OK. I like the psychological perspective of it all. I appreciate the medical side of it too, is it something neurological? Did the killer have a traumatic brain injury as a child that messed up his or her “wiring”? It is just interesting to me.

Which leads me to the title of this blog. I love to read books, every now and then I get on a serial killer, murder mystery kick. I will get on this kick and submerse myself in these stories and then it happens…….. My overactive imagination, makes me paranoid as fuck. EVERYONE is a killer now.

The first time my imagination decided to be an asshole, was when I was reading this series (for the life of me I cannot remember who wrote it.) It was one of those free books from the Kindle library. The series was about a detective who solved murder cases, mainly serial killers. I believe it was the third book in the series, and this particular killer was targeting women (who either miscarried or had abortions. Can’t remember which.) The killer would murder them and take their uterus. The goal was for the killer to build a giant uterus so that she could be reborn!

Look… Y’all this book fucked with my head something awful. I was convinced someone was going to kill me and take my damn uterus, gave me nightmares, just fucked with my head. So I took a nice long break from murder mysteries. A really long break.

About six months ago, my friend Brianna (love her!) introduced me to the podcast My Favorite Murder! This podcast is awesome y’all! They talk about… you guessed it murders! I was sucked into this podcast! Listened to it every single day, could not get enough of it. My kiddos had stayed the night at my mom’s house one weekend and I picked them up and was not thinking, or I was so engrossed in the podcast I forgot that the kids should not listen to it. This podcast was talking about the “Cannibal Bus Killer” (look it up) and all of a sudden I hear my daughter “I think I may be sick, that is so gross!” I had a bad mom moment, it happens. I was officially addicted to this podcast.

Then it HAPPENED. The day came when my paranoid over active imagination took over, and I offended this sweet old man.

I had walked into the gas station and this little old man smiled and said “Hello there.” What happened was the words I was thinking in my head, the words that no one could hear, made their way to my mouth. Word vomit at it’s finest! Instead of saying “hello” or “hi,” my dumbass said “I am NOT falling for that TRICK! Find another VICTIM!”

I stood there for a moment, realizing what I had just done. He had a look on his face of fear and confusion. This man probably thought I was higher than a kite or just batshit crazy. We stood there for about 30 seconds staring awkwardly at each other, when i stammered “Yeah, so.. I did not mean to say that out loud. Have a nice day. I am sorry!” And I turned around, walked out and left.

That poor man, I can only imagine what he was thinking. That incident made me take another sabbatical from murder.

The reason for this post, is because my boyfriend saved me from my imagination again. He reminded me of the old man incident, because I had started listening to the podcast again.

I think I am going to have to stay away from my interest and save some other old person or person in general from being offended by my paranoid overactive imagination. Life really is not fair.