The blue dot.

I was driving to work the other day and noticed a freckle on my right forearm. To be honest, I don't know if that's the first time I've ever noticed it, or if it was a new discovery at that moment. However, a freckle is as freckle does, and there was a (possibly) new one on my arm. 

I've got freckles all over me. Not in that adorable fair-skinned redheaded kind of way, but in a "here lets put freckles in random places all over my body" kind of way. No rhyme or reason, just random ass freckles. 

I've got more scars from cuts and scrapes than I'd like to admit, but the stories behind them are just plain hilarious. I won't bore you with all the details, but here's some of the highlights.

Left two toes: Near toe amputation. Filleted open my big toe, almost chopped off my index one. LOTS OF BLOOD. NOT lots of fun.

Right foot: Tore off my big toenail, tore open the nail bed.

Right foot: Stepped on the dog de-shedder blade. Cut the bottom wide open.

Right calf: Motorcycle burn. 

Right knee: Kneeled on a broken mirror, lots of stitches.

Okay.... So my lower extremities have been through a lot. I have a lot of scars, and I have a lot of freckles. That's all there really is to that.

So back to reality.

I was laying in bed with my folks and sister earlier tonight after work (not the first time) and we were just visiting about work and live in general. For those of you tuning in for the first time to our show, let's catch you up on what you've missed. I'm getting divorced. It is not my choice to end my marriage, but his. He finally has realized that you can't have your cake and eat it too. Except he chose the skanky cake. But it is what it is. Anyway...... So while I was at my folks, we were visiting about how I had recently discovered this new freckle and how EVERYTHING reminds me of my husband and generates a feeling or memory of what was instead of what is. 

He had a blue freckle on one of his knees. Don't judge me for not remembering which one. I still have to pull my pants down sometimes and look in the mirror to see which hip my birthmark is on. It may not have even been a freckle. (Did I mention it was blue?) It was really a dot. I don't know. All I know is that I've known it was there for forever. And what makes me sad is that once upon a time we used to sit and poke each other in the scars, and joke about how anything needing more than 5 stitches definitely warranted immediate amputation. We celebrated all the little scuffs and scratches that we each had, that made us unique and wonderful. And now we don't anymore. All of my little blemishes are ugly to him. It's terribly sad that he looks upon divorce as the best thing that will ever happen to him, and that I will never be gazed upon by him ever again. And I sit here and miss the blue dot on his knee. Or the scar on this thumb from a piece of sheet metal. Or the scar on his hand he picks on constantly, and has as long as I've known him. 

I still look at the two scars on the back of my right hand and remember how scared I was of ruining our wedding photos because they had barely healed by the time we got married. 

What a waste of time that was apparently...

6&7

I don't even know what to call this feeling.

So let's preface this whole thing by saying that I started back on my anti-depressants today. Against what I have wanted to avoid for months, I finally realized that it's okay to have something to take the edge off.

So take a trip with me, if you will, back to yesterday. Not far, but far enough. In the neighborhood of 9:30AM CST, if we're aiming for something more specific. I had my feet IN THE STIRRUPS, with the doc doing the "peek and poke" in my lady bits. So during the routine 150 point inspection, we are having the usual conversation about everything else going on in my life. So once again, for the umpteenth time, I told my doctor we didn't need to have the "making babies" conversation. Not my total choice that I'm not having/or haven't had kids, but more so a lack of interest from a husband who promised me forever, but has spent the last two years entertaining women who do have young children. 

I've gone both ways regarding having children. I love being an aunt. I have the best nephew that God could give me, raised beautifully by a mother and father who love him like nothing else. And his mother (my sister-in-law) has always welcomed me to spend what time I can with him. And he's so smart. I would be proud if he were my child, as his mother is proud that he is hers. I've had other friends "loan" me their kids when I need to satisfy my craving for fun kid activities. And I've enjoyed all the time I have spent with all of them. While I am not a mother, I can at least be someone they can look up to. Even if for a short time. But I am most definitely not a mother. I'd like to think that I'm the "mothering" type, and my group of friends can definitely attest to that. With respect to little ones though, I have gotten so used to the idea of being on my own, that I don't feel the need to be a mom. I've been married (so far) for 11+ years, and no babies. Most of the people I went to school with are already parents to 2.5 kids, and some divorced, remarried and even more on the way. So I really don't know. I truthfully feel like there is nothing constructive for me to teach a child of my own. So far, how I've experienced the world as an adult has kind of sucked. I don't think bringing a baby into this world is the right thing for me right now, or possibly ever.

Let's continue our time machine excursion to 7:30PM CST, yesterday. Visiting my folks, dropping off meds for dad, and mom is sharing with me a babysitting story. She was watching my sister's friend's little one, and they were watching the Olympics. They were having a dandy time apparently, and while sharing this story, my mom thought it was a good time to bring up how I haven't graced them with a grandchild yet. Now mind you, I'm the middle of three girls, my younger sissy is special needs, and probably won't be producing an heir, and my older sis and her hubs don't seem to be making anything happen on their end. (Not trying/not preventing I think they call it?) So that leaves me. To continue the family bloodline. I've expressed many times to my mom how I feel regarding having kids, and EVERY time I'm met with "you're just going through a phase" or "you'll change your mind" and "you don't need HIM to have a baby". She tells me that I should have hurried up and gotten pregnant when I had the chance, or to hurry up and find someone new to produce grandkids with. Never mind the fact that I'm still married. I don't know how long, if ever, it will take me to be healed from the inevitable divorce. I'm not in a hurry at all. IF EVER. But no matter how many times I've said that I don't want to have this conversation, it still happens, and it still ends in tears. And then I have to shake if off and move on.

So today, after sleeping my feelings away and reminding myself that I'm a dog-mom, and that's good enough for me right now, I popped a pill, went to work and had a great day. Made a delivery to a patient who is very special to my heart, who has one of the most fabulous moms ever. Then when I get home, I notice a box on my porch. Nothing big. Two-thirds of a shoebox maybe. Wrapped in plastic, with a fake bow printed on the box. Nothing came to mind, I wasn't expecting anything. Maybe it was dropped at the wrong house, probably for the same address on the next street over. So I picked it up and had a look.

It was samples. Of Similac BABY formula. Addressed specifically to me.

WHAT. THE. HELL. 

I don't click on ads for baby stuff. I don't buy baby stuff. I don't look at baby stuff online. Not to mention the fact that the last time I PRACTICED baby making was at least 18 months ago. Somebody PLEASE explain to me how I ended up with samples of baby products? Is someone playing a joke? Did my husband get his latest tramp pregnant before he left? I'm so angry that I haven't even cried. I skipped right past upset and am now tremendously PO'd. And if it wasn't deliberate, why is the universe doing this to me? I don't need any more reminders that my life has gotten to where it was. I already know that according to the smartest (or so he thinks) human being on this earth, that I am not one worth cultivating any type of future with. Especially a future that includes children. 

Pardon my explosion of negativity. Nobody wants to hear about baby formula. Like I said, I really don't know what to call this feeling. If you figure it out, let me know. Thanks. 

The End.

6/7

The non death wish.

Let's be very very clear. 

At least for the moment.

I do not have a death wish. Well maybe so in the non-traditional sense. Yes I would like to experience the inside of a tornado, yes I would like to skydive, yes I would like to race a fast car around a track. Who doesn't have that death wish sometimes? Okay maybe not the tornado one, but still. While I also have a very interesting fascination with death itself (go read Stiff by Mary Roach), I do not necessarily wish to be dead. 

But there are some days I wish I wasn't alive either. And I mean that in the living, breathing, beating heart kind of sense. Yes I know the inventory and location of every sharp knife in the house, and yes I know how little medicinal assistance you actually need to "take care of business". And if you didn't know that I cook a lot of fresh vegetables that require cutting/slicing, or the fact that my day job is as a pharmacy technician, then you might have legitimate cause for concern. So before you suggest drugs, I've never had long term good luck with antidepressants in particular. They're great up front, but once I reach a point of indifference about my life, then I'm more or less right back to where I started, pre-medicine. And indifference isn't the way to live your life. 

The last 2-3 years of my life have been AWFUL. Straight up terrible. Yeah maybe there were a handful of high points, but not enough that outweighed the low points. And for this long I haven't been comfortable being in my own life. It's not entirely my fault, (shout out to the lying, cheating, abusive husband) but I do accept blame for the majority of it. Things have been nothing short of a hurricane in my life these past years. And why would I want to be alive for shit like this? Truth is I really don't. There are plenty of nights when I go to bed hoping I don't wake up tomorrow. I have asked God countless times to please take me home in the night. And he doesn't answer. I realize there's a lesson to be learned when God says no, but I haven't figured it out yet. 

I don't count down my days to anything. I don't even daydream of a life past 40. I never have. I don't plan on dying on any certain day, or any certain time, by any certain means. This isn't a cry for help. I promise. Everyone around me knows how treacherous my life has become lately. Everyone is watching me. While I have no doubt that some people would miss me, I know one person who won't. And he's the one who promised me in front of God and everybody a 'til death do us part.

But I promise you this, until God takes me home when he decides, I guess I'll stick around.

Captain America

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away....

Oh wait. Wrong franchise.

Let's try this one.

When patriots become heroes.... Yes that's right.

Less than a year ago, sitting at a kitchen table not far from here.... We were in counseling. Or so I thought. I'm pretty sure the counselor and I thought we ALL were in counseling. But obviously (in hindsight) only she and I were. HE was not. HE was the one who begged me (after 10 years of me begging him) to see someone. And he wasn't even really into it. Never mind the fact that the other woman in his life never went away. How can you beg me to go to counseling, and then not be invested in it yourself? Somebody please, step in anytime and explain this to me. Anyway, that's not the point of this post. I just wanted to get that feather light feeling off my chest. Not that it really matters, because I'll feel this anvil sitting on my chest for a long time, but hey. WHATEVER.

In one of "our" sessions, Jana (the counselor, and angel sent by God) asked me who my favorite superhero was. Apparently it's no secret that I'm a huge Marvel fan. My good buddy once said to me, "Andy, the only two things you never shut up about are how much you love your dad, and how much you love Marvel." 😁😁😁😁😁😁 So anyway. Back to my superhero. I said my favorite superhero in the Marvel universe would have to be Steve Rogers/Captain America. No I didn't choose him because Chris Evans plays him in the MCU, or any of that. To be honest, I'm more of a Tom Hiddleston/Sebastian Stan girl myself (yay villians!). However, I chose Cap for 2 very specific reasons. He's a patriot and a Christian. 

Before we all have to ask. Yes. I am a Christian. Not necessarily a devout one, and most definitely not a bible thumper. But I know God and he knows me. And you're absolutely right, we could know each other a lot better. I appreciate hearing that people have a relationship with Christ, and I do believe in the power of prayer, but I also respect people who don't.

But this post isn't about that. You wanna talk religion? See you at Star War anonymous. We can discuss the holy trinity of George Lucas then. 

Back to the Captain. Yes he was a Christian. And he was a soldier. He rose above and became more than any ever thought he could be to achieve greatness. My soldier was never destined to be a soldier. He was always the guy who had his friends' backs who wanted to enlist. But he was never "that guy". But then you wake up one morning, and he decides to join the Army. Over the last (almost) 11 years, I have seen so much military greatness come from him. They wanted him for intelligence and computer work, and he chose to be a medic. He has dutifully served with and cared for his fellow brothers in arms, without question. His military accomplishments have made me and everyone else who knows him very proud. 

I sat at Jana's table and told her all the reasons why I was proud of my soldier. Why he was my Captain America. And I think he heard what I was saying. Who knows?

Now I realize he was everyone else's Captain America. 

He is my Winter Soldier. And he will destroy me.

Hazard the world....

The Cardboard Box

I have always had a particular vision of a non-particular cardboard box.

This could have been any box, for anything. It could have been a box that something big and interesting came in, or something uninteresting was traveling through the donation circuit in. This could be a shoe box, or a refrigerator box. It may have been the box I moved into my first apartment in, into my first house, away to a temporary home, back to my house, whatever it was, it was something that could contain whatever I needed it to.

My cardboard box is now empty.

In my heart-shaped cardboard box was very specific feelings. They were filled with unconditional love for someone who has been a toxic person to me. They were unwavering feelings of love, no matter what the circumstances, positive or negative. They were happy feelings, and sad feelings. But they were little bits of love, both easy and tough. He wasn't always a toxic person. But he decided that my love wasn't enough. That there is greener grass. And that the fake landscapes ahead of him were more beautiful than the grass trying to grow all around him. 

He shot a hole in my heart-shaped box and all of the love is pouring out of it. I have tried my best for so long to try to keep at least the happy feelings and memories alive, but they are fading away so quickly. He refused to even acknowledge that there were good times between us before. That there could even be good times again. He said I was nothing to him. That he hopes he never has to see me ever again when this is all over. That I was cancer. That my eradication from his life was the best treatment option. That I deserve to live a life unloved. Because who would want to love someone like me? 

That I should go somewhere far away from him. And be alone and pitiful, and realize how not-so-great of a human being I supposedly am.

And live in a cardboard box.

People of Hart-Mart

I have had the very best fortune of working with a really awesome team of people at my pharmacy. We are more than the average work family, we have each other's backs, and sometimes fronts. (Don't ask) But let me tell you, the things that get said to us, or between us..... Welcome to the loony bin. 

In no particular order:

"Very voluptuous in the booby part." - SS

"The only times my knees be rouged is if they's bruised." - KB

"It is the Bomb-dot com-slash-net-dot org" - NW

"So that's what people mean when they come in asking for a tens unit. I always thought they were asking for "Attend's" unit. You know, like a diaper genie? For old people?" - SS

"Does it smell like somebody stuck a cinnamon stick up their ass?"

"YES!!"

"It's Shittamon." -SH

"Sketch-O-Latapus" -KB

"I hope they don't have calendars at the jail cause I don't want to be getting a mother's day call." - KB 

"He doesn't have his pants pulled up. I think he looks suspicious." - AW

"The guy jumped and the dog dumped." - JU

"I come from a long line of rash scratchers and scab pickers." - Yours truly.

"Andy, this isn't NCIS." - BS

"My grandpa says that the word 'sensuous' is the most important word in a marriage. For example: 'Since-you-is in the kitchen, make me a sandwich.'" - KB

"When she's all made up, and not cockroachy, she's pretty." - VH

"The gloves have me just so discombobulated, Joy. I just can't even." - AF

"What is your hypothesis, Willis?" - AB/KB

"I ain't about having a leg on the chandelier and a foot on the door knob." - AF

"He's leaving??!!?"

"I've been socially constipated forever and he's relieved my bowels!!!"

"I'm crying actual tears!"

"He understood all my rap references!" - KB

More to come!

6 & 7

I don't know if I'm ready to talk about 2015 or not. So here's my goals for 2016.

2015 was by far one of the most "tragic" years of my life. The day I turned 30, it all kind of fell apart. But now isn't the time to talk about it. I will inevitably get to that particular day when I feel like barfing my feelings all over the place, but not today.

Long story short, 2015 sucked. Most of it.

Anyhow, not like anyone will be reading this anyway, but I thought I'd share my 2016 goals. Yes I'm well aware that it's already the middle of January, but today is the first day I am finally able to sit down in front of an actual computer and type.

My husband is leaving for deployment very soon and I will be taking that time to find myself again. While I hate the loneliness of the whole thing, I do appreciate the independence that comes with it. Deployment has always been a growth period for our marriage, and I am hoping that this will be another. I look forward to having space to accomplish my goals and spend time with our dogs, but I will be equally looking forward to having my space invaded yet again when he returns.

Goals for 2016:

Get back in touch with GOD. It doesn't need a number, it really has no particular rank. While I realize that my relationship with God should be first and foremost, I need to be able to build myself up all the time by achieving (or attempting) my all goals, which help me more in my goal with Him.

1. STOP BEING FAT. No explanation necessary.
2. STOP BEING DEPRESSED. Again, no explanation.
3. Learn to love running. Convince my lungs and my knees that I know what I'm doing.
4. Sew. Everything.
5. Read. EVERYTHING.
6. Fill up my book journal, my regular journal, and write on every scrap of paper that I can.

So anyway. Here's the reading list so far. Any suggestions would be appreciated. (If anyone even reads this....)

In no particular order:

The Giver - Lois Lowry
The Screwtape Letters - C.S. Lewis
The Man in the High Castle - Phillip K. Dick
Birthmarked Trilogy - Caragh O'Brien
Wool - Hugh Howey
Ready Player One - Ernest Cline
The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Gulp - Mary Roach
Lamb - Christopher Moore
Rising Strong - Brene' Brown
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil - John Berendt
Stardust - Neil Gaiman
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Phillip K. Dick
Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children Trilogy - Ransom Riggs
Becoming Nicole - Amy Ellis Nutt
Furiously Happy - Jenny Lawson
Let's Pretend This Never Happened - Jenny Lawson
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Thirteen Reasons Why - Jay Asher
The Library at Mount Char - Scott Hawkins
Hyperbole and A Half - Allie Brosh
Armada - Ernest Cline
The Heart Goes Last - Margaret Atwood
Smoke and Mirrors - Neil Gaiman
The Book of Speculation - Erika Swyler

So there you go.

Hope to see you again soon.

6 & 7