tight

unyielding

exhausting

breathless

constant

is it valentine’s day or valentines day? apostrophe? no apostrophe?

whatever. it doesn’t matter.

ok, so a wee bit ago, i posted some rants about how i was doing and why i was in much need of mass amounts of coffee. it was in that post that i mentioned what i referred to as a “potentially STABLE freelancing gig as a blogger.”

so here’s the thing… without going into too much detail about the gig, i’m finding that 2 weeks into it, i think i’m getting bloggy screwed.

i’m not a big name blogger. i haven’t been doing this for a while. i mean, all you have to do is read my “about” page in order to realize that i have no clue what i’m doing with this here blog of mine.

oh yeah, and i’m not canadian. apparently the vast majority of fantastic and legit bloggers are all up there with the olympic flame.

ok, back to the screwing… i was under the impression (enter nic’s naivete) that this was a paid gig. i had been asked to go on board with a site as a weekly blogger and discuss my experience with anxiety and what it’s like to live with anxiety on a day to day basis. i was stoked.

working towards my own stability with my anxiety is a journey in itself, but to be able to help others at the same time would be entirely rad.

now, i find myself a bit skeptical. “the powers that be” have all of my info, my bio, pic, even an introductory blog post. however, it was after i “established” myself on their site that i received an email saying “this is a voluntary position.”

WHUUUUUUUUUUUUT?!?!?!

the email was very professional, apologetic even for giving me the wrong impression, and THEN laid out the details of what exactly they are looking for from me.

so here’s the thing… if i go ahead and continue “working” VOLUNTARILY for this site and posting for them, i get a lot of traffic, it drives traffic from there to here, SEO jibber jabber, etc, etc… if i peace out of this gig, no harm, no foul. right? i mean, i was the one deceived, right?

or was i? is this just how social media works in terms of getting what they want from you? i dunno. you tell me.

meanwhile, as i ponder about whether or not i’m bending over and taking it up the rear from this website, i receive yet another email from “the powers that be” that says something along the lines of more details with regards to my posts, bla bla bla, SEO bullshit, traffic, la la la… and then…

” Once you get a few posts up and show that you intend on sticking around, we’ll add you to our (insert name of website) list here: (insert my pic, bio, and information i have already submitted to them here).”

again, WHUUUUUUUUUUUT!?!?!?

so let me get this straight… i have to “get a few posts up and show that i intend on sticking around” in order to gain any sort of recognition on the website… and this is an unpaid gig?

don’t misunderstand me, i’m not about blogging for the money, SEO crap, etc. in fact i just recently opened up space on my blog to run ads. there is a reason why the ad section of my blog is titled “pocket change” people. i’m not here for the benjamins.

veteran bloggers, i ask you, what’s the deal? am i getting bloggy screwed? cuz i have a deadline coming up and i’m unsure as to whether or not i’m going to meet it or peace out.

help a blogger out. i’ll give you candy hearts of love…

snowpocalypse, i had plans… good plans. plans that i had been looking forward to and had coordinated and fine-tuned long ago. plans for this weekend. these plans included visits to friends. dear friends. magoo’s godparents and their beautiful twins… plans that included myself and one of my nearest and dearest friends helping to pack up our beloved jewel (pun intended) and sending her on her way with the love of her life… plans of documenting their love story which surpasses any love story that has graced my ears.

i had plans.

mother nature… you fucked with the wrong woman. and so i will wait, patiently, for your apology.

in the meantime, i give you this…

wishful thinking, and sunglasses.

*WARNING* this it a nonstop stream of consciousness post… it will most likely make no sense to any of you unless you are currently a resident of the maryland/dc area.

i’ve heard of cabin fever before. i think there are a few movies out there about it. i dunno, i’m too lazy to even google it with the exception of the wikipedia definition. regardless, i’m on the brink of madness. like beyond medicinal help madness.

if i take one more picture of snow, snow banks, igloos, snow on branches, my kid discovering mass amounts of snow, or my car that was buried underneath the snow, i’m going to vomit all over the snow until the snow is no longer even recognizable as being snow… just my vomit.

i lived in chicago. twice. once when i was too small to really remember it, and then again when i was in middle school and absolutely awesome listening to green day (before they went all broadway) and wearing my flannel shirts and thinking it was the end of the world when kurt cobain died.

no, the end of the world is now. here. in maryland. and our 6 ft under consists of freezing cold snow with a sheet of ice over it because it went down to 6 degrees last night and we can feel the wind blow through the windows of our cheap ass gov’t base housing apartment.

and whatever to you canadian blogging friends of mine who are sitting there, in your homes, reading this with your mug of coffee and baileys, ready to take on another day of isolation and insanity covered in down coats, scarves, mittens, toboggans, or toques (i think that’s what you call them.)

go ahead, laugh at me. i’m well aware that i’m being a whiny little bitch about this, but dammit it’s my blog and i’ll post what i want to. and if you give me too much shit about complaining, i will throw a snow ball at you that cuts your face because it’s been frozen for the last 4 days and basically only now consists of ice.

IN. YOUR. FACE.

i’m sick of this snow. i just want to know when it will end. instead of knowing when it will end, i know when the next fucking storm is coming… today. this afternoon. and into tomorrow… 16-20 inches, in addition to the 30 + that currently resides on my car.

the sky is ugly. grey. unforgiving. filling to the brim with precipitation that will shortly freeze and then unleash its fury on us once again.

so yeah, i’m losing it. entirely. there are only a certain amount of hiding spaces in this apartment and i have spent time in each of them. i have hidden in the closet in an attempt to escape my family. (i love you guys, but we’ve spent enough time cooped up together.) and i’ve spent too long in the bathroom, hoping that paul and jackson just think i’m taking a dump when in reality i’m taking an extra 10 minutes to gain some composure, finish reading a book, or trying to not claw my eyes out.

i’ve even gone up to the attic. the storage space that is the 4th floor of our building. i went up there to get a book for paul the other night. ha!!! i knew exactly where the book was… with all of my other text books, old anthologies, college and grad school materials that i think to myself “someday i may need that.” yet i spent 25 minutes up in the storage space looking at all that was there… maternity clothes, jackson’s toys that he has outgrown, patio furniture that we obviously have no use for here. and i took my sweet ass time before rejoining my family with my wack-a-doo-ness.

and then there are the rest of the occupants of our apartment building that we have to deal with. and their children who are basically on summer vacation but in winter because they get so many goddamn snow days. and they are home and loud and dragging their sleds, saucers, and snow gear up and down and up and down and up and down the stairwell. and then there’s the one kid… THE ONE KID who is a total dipshit smart and funny and throws his frozen, wet snow boots up two flights in the stairwell, run upstairs to retrieve them, and then throw them back down to the bottom floor. he does this repeatedly.

perhaps that is how he is coping with cabin fever. it’s pretty damn annoying though. he needs another outlet. one that doesn’t disturb my child from napping. because when my child does not nap, it makes these crappy days that much more craptastic.

i like mother nature. truly, i do. jackson is an earth day birthday baby, born on april 22nd, and i am a taurus, earthy and whatnot.

but mother nature is being a bitch. an angry and evil bitch. and i kinda wanna punch her in the vag.

my parents gave us an espresso machine for christmas, which is VERY APPRECIATED as it was MUCH NEEDED in our household. the problem is that paul is classically trained in the operation of the espresso machine (because he read the manual) and i am not (because i don’t read instructions… ever.)

i just attempted to make my first mocha with a double shot of espresso. and i failed. kind of. what i am now drinking does contain chocolate syrup and two + shots of espresso because i overflowed, so i will most likely have the caffeine jitters by the time i hit “publish” on this post.

i should’ve just gotten in the car and gone to starbucks.

though i have what i would call a distinct NEED for coffee (paul would most likely call it an obsession), i am in particular NEED of caffeine to run through my veins at this distinct moment on this distinct monday for the following reasons…

- the weekend didn’t work out as we had intended. originally, paul and i were going to go away and ski for the weekend. i bailed. why? because i didn’t want to pack yet another suitcase. i’ve been living out of suitcases since november and the thought of packing another one and prepping just for a short weekend getaway gave me a panic attack and made me consider cutting my wrists (the incorrect way, don’t worry.)

- instead of going to bed early on friday night to catch up on the sleep that i have not been getting over the last 2 months, i stayed up til 1 am with my husband, drinking beer and watching conan’s last show. paul and i took a trip to nyc a few years ago and stood in line to be audience members in one of conan’s shows, but we honestly weren’t HUGE conan fans. yeah, what NBC is doing is totally dick and jay leno is a douche, but we knew that already.

- the magoo ended up spewing liquid out of both ends of his body because he was fed expired hummus (the individual who fed said expired hummus to the magoo shall remain nameless.) needless to say, this made things very NOT fun for saturday evening and into sunday. multiple loads of puke and diarrhea laundry is not my idea of a good time. in addition to the extra laundry, a horrendous diaper rash now festers on my son’s bum.

- i’ve been contacted with regards to a potentially STABLE freelancing gig as a blogger, and i’m sweating bullets over it because it could be ABSOLUTELY AWESOME. those of you who blog, freelance, or just dream of “working” while sitting on your couch, not wearing a bra and drinking a crappy mocha know what i mean. i can say no more about this potential opportunity because my palms are already dripping with sweat and i don’t want to short-circuit my keyboard. also, i could jinx it.

- i’m in the midst of my anxiety meds being adjusted, which is never an easy experience. regardless of what you may take medication for, adjusting any bit of it, whether it’s the dosage or switching to an entirely different drug, is so hard to do. this is why they call it “chemistry” and why i came THIS CLOSE to failing it in high school. every teeny milligram, even part of a milligram of the medication needs to be JUST RIGHT in order for it to balance out what is currently imbalanced in mah head. this process, when it works, can take up to weeks to see “improvement.” it’s not a fun process for me or for those around me, cuz they never know when i’m goina go all wack-a-doo on their asses… or just not be able to get out of bed.

- on a similar note, i’m getting to spend countless hours each day finding a shrink who takes my insurance. currently there are none within a 60 mile radius of where we live. that’s the bad news. the good news is that my family practitioner (who i saw last week) is helping me as much as possible to use her resources to find me someone to purge my shit on.

- this maryland weather is so messed up and it’s messing with mah head. i need to see the sun. i NEED to. it can be cold as hell out (well, hell supposedly isn’t cold… i’ll report back once i learn for sure) point being, as long as i can see sunshine, i’m good. lately, if the sun peaks out here, it lasts for about 25 minutes and then it’s gone for 25 days. not so good.

- the magoo bed/crib situation is still sucking. this of course is unless paul is home, and then all is well with the world. the magoo sleeps 2 + hours, wakes up happy as a clam, and doesn’t make me absolutely distain toddlerville. when paul is not home, we have what i now refer to as the magoo-monster. this does NOT make for good nap times, which does NOT make for fun afternoons and makes me absolutely loathe toddlerville and all that comes with it. the magoo-monster is manipulating and playing the favorite parent game.

so those are my reasons for needing an abundance of caffeine. i have now consumed 85% of my mocha and all i have left is chocolate syrup.

just hook me up to an IV next time.

the magoo is not even 2 years old.

say it with me, THE MAGOO IS NOT EVEN 2 YEARS OLD.

this is incredibly easy for one to forget. jackson is a bruiser of a kid. he beats up on his 85 lb dog, scales furniture to the point of reaching windows, and makes forts underneath our dining room table because he likes to “be hiding.”

he is unbelievably verbal, already producing short phrases like “i got it” and “help me mommy.” his favorite word to say right now is “elephant,” a 3 syllable word that is actually recognizable when you hear him say it.

**********

side note: just now, the three of us were sitting on the couch when paul snagged a booger out of jackson’s nose and went to wipe it on my arm as i typed this post.

i threw my hands in the air and said, “DUDE, YOU CAN PUT THE BOOG ON MY SHIRT BUT NOT ON MY ARM.”

jackson climbed out of paul’s lap, turned around at both of us and exclaimed, “DUDE!”

**********

i don’t list out these stats to boast that my child is better and more brilliant than anyone else’s. i already know that.

i list out these stats as a reminder to myself that jackson is still so young. he is not even 21 months yet… 4 more days. he will be 2 in april.

the changes in our son occur so fast and furiously, whether it’s a physical change, leaving us begging his grandparents to ship us larger clothes so that we don’t have to buy them ourselves, or the magoo shocking us with his brilliance, saying “DUDE!”

so perhaps it will come as no surprise to you readers to hear that jackson’s big boy bed is now my nemesis. correction: it’s not so much the bed itself that i loathe, it’s the entire sleeping process that is now on day 7 of SUCKING. it’s the up and down and screaming and banging and unwillingness to get back in bed no matter how exhausted this stubborn child is.

dude, it’s not cool.

i am stronger when paul is around, keeping me from going in and rescuing my son from his torture chamber of a bedroom. given the abundance of diverse feedback i received last week, he and i had a lot to discuss and a lot to experiment with over the long weekend. in fact, we’re still experimenting… because we’re still losing this battle.

we listened to jackson scream and bang on his bedroom door for over an hour last night. the door knob contraption had been removed… a baby gate was put in place outside of his bedroom door. he banged and screamed and scratched and yelled for “DADDDDDYYYYYYYYY” for over an hour. i had to ask paul to turn the volume up on the tv in an attempt to distract myself with the golden globes (and a lot of wine) because it was so painful to listen to. and mind you, i’ve been listening to this for a week.

at 10:30 last night, i went in to check on jackson. opening the door super slowly just incase he had fallen asleep on the floor next to it, i entered his dimly lit room. toys and soft book were on the floor, covering his carpet. i walked over to his bed, found his blankets bunched up.. but found no magoo underneath the blankets or in his bed.

jackson had instead climbed up into the glider and was asleep on his back, legs bent like a frog, in the chair that his dad and i rock him to sleep in every day and night.

my heart sank. he was searching for comfort and i hadn’t provided him with that.

and so this morning, i sit on the couch, sip my coffee, listen to the magoo play with his daddy and sip his milk.

he’s still so young.

so… where does this leave us in terms of our magoo bedroom drama???

hell if i know.

currently we are discussing the option of “regressing” and putting his crib rail back up. perhaps our not-even-2-year-old is not yet ready for the independence a big boy bed provides.

perhaps the college applications need to be put back in the drawer for a while.

perhaps he is still my baby.

dude.

i’m goina go out on a limb here and just say it flat out… i’m struggling. BIG TIME. the aftermath of loss, grieving, shock, denial, confusion… it’s sent my anxiety through the goddamn roof.

i want so badly to continue on with my life here. i was hoping to get some sense of normalcy once coming home and getting back into a routine with the magoo. instead, i find myself experiencing multiple panic attacks a day and battling insomnia.

i know healing takes time. i’ve grieved before.

but i have never grieved as a parent before.

and grieving the loss of a child, an 18 year old girl, has hit me like a brick wall. i did not just grieve for my former roommate last week when we buried her sister. i did not just grieve as a friend.

i grieved with her mother, for her mother… because now i am a mother.

certain parts of the beautiful eulogy from the memorial service resonated with me differently than it did with others who are not yet parents. and certain parts of her death have been more difficult to accept because i am a parent.

i read a post a few days ago from heather armstrong of dooce.com and found myself nodding my head because as she described her panic attack, i knew EXACTLY what she was talking about.

i experienced it just this morning. the shortness of breath, the tingling limbs, wondering if i go to the ER or not. and it sucks. i don’t want to be feeling the way that i’m feeling right now. i would love to close my mind off to certain things and not think about other things and watch tv at night with paul and just enjoy a show without my mind racing a million miles a minute. i would love to sleep.

but i’m struggling right now. so i’m going to my doctor in 2 weeks and figuring out how to start climbing this hurdle.

and today, i’m going to get a massage.