When your guilty conscience texts

Toddlers are not unlike adolescents in their quest for independence.  A few days ago, my brother sent out a hilarious photo of my nephew dressed as a ninja, completely masked, during a visit to Target.  Toddlers are not unlike adolescents in their mood swings.  That same day, my usually sweet and bubbly daughter had a major meltdown at Trader Joe’s when she realized I would only buy one, not two as she demanded, bag of popcorn. She angrily flung a cupful of cookies and herself to the ground.  Though I have been dealing with adolescents in my career for over sixteen years, it is moments like these that make me wonder if I have the skills to work with my own child. 
My initial reaction was surprise. I knew she was upset but I had not expected her to throw anything.  Recently she was disciplined for throwing a shoe (my budding political activist.)  I quickly cleaned up the mess, got her to her feet, and headed to the cash registers with my wailing child.  Both the cashier and I had little to say as I completed my purchase. I gave her a timeout and reiterated the no throwing rule. 
A few hours later, I got an odd text: “Horrible parenting!”  For several agonizing minutes, I pondered the significance of these words.  Was I really horrible?  I had done my best to remain calm and to do most of the verbal discipline in our car. Had I grabbed her too roughly?  Had I shamed my child?  I felt simultaneously helpless, guilty, and indignant. 
Eventually I realized the comment was part of a thread in response to the funny pic of my ninja nephew.  No one was criticizing my handling of the tossed cookies incident.  But, as painful as it was, I’m grateful I was tough on myself.  


At group last night, I was bubbling over with joy. I told my colleagues about Blues, about how happy I am that we communicate, about how grateful I am to be with someone who treats me the way I deserve.
Today, I feel ill, defeated, lost again. I want to close my eyes.

Staying home sick

The immune system is a delicate thing. One minute I’m shiny happy in the patio at Raleigh’s, rocking my new Cal Bears wife beater tank as South Central and Watts try to coax me into resuming drinking before my own self-imposed deadline. By the following Saturday, I’m screaming my weakened lungs out as the boys look a hot mess in the fourth quarter against Arizona, and mid-week, I’m curled up on the couch watching way too much VH1 and nursing three hot oil burns on my right elbow. The cold I’ve had for over a week is lingering and after a long day of hacking and feeling like I’m holding the whole school together with duct tape and will power, I decided to call in sick.

I am a marvel at caring for others but I’m relatively new at taking care of myself, even on the health front. Sure I love my greens and drinking lots of water but I’m also a sucker for Taco Bell and Jack in the Box mystery meat tacos. I haven’t run in three weeks and my sleep pattern has only been good for two weeks. Once this cold hit, I didn’t do much besides taking several Airborne tablets(actually the generic Walgreen’s version but same difference)on the first day I had symptoms. Last weekend, I went out into the San Francisco coolness with my bro and sis in law to the theatre on Friday and faced showers and humidity for Saturday’s game in Berkeley. Work has continued to be unbelievably taxing. So I needed a day for me.

So I slept in, watched lots of movies on TV(why in the hell would fine-ass Jay Hernandez go for Kirsten Dunst with her nasty unwashed short hair and raggedy clothes in crazy/beautiful), cleaned my bathroom, vacuumed the house, and watched some more TV.

My cough still sounds like a seal’s bark.
And yes I’m still headed into the City to see another musical.

Hilarious start to what would be a hellish Monday

As much as I hate to iron, I ironed flannel pajamas this morning. I didn’t want them to look too wrinkled for work.
It’s Hello Week at Alma Mater. Each day is a themed dress-up day and I’ll be darned if I let the newbie administrators show this star alum up.
Flannel is one of my favorite fabrics/textures, anyway.

And then the day went wrong…

And you thought BPD was all negative…

Once upon a November 2006 morning, I fell during an early morning walk in the darkness with my two dogs. I was depressed(little did I know it was the beginning of my current journey towards better mental health) over a negative situation with a longtime platonic friend of mine. He had recently declared his longtime crush on me–as well as his conviction that I had had some sort of sexual relationship with our mutual pal Beautiful. As I am prone to do, I was racked with guilt and moping around. Hence this nasty gash, which I wore like a true martyr.
Little did I know Elbow(code name for my former friend) had a girlfriend which he had initially denied but later confirmed via a curt email to me about respecting his relationship.
Why bring this up in late July 2007? Because Elbow eloped recently.
I don’t regret our drunken argument after the UCLA game. If anything, it may have cemented(to use my bff’s term) his relationship.