Sunday, October 4, 2015

Throwaway Post

I realized that I have no desire to post about California tonight, mainly because I actually have to do important shit tomorrow. Which means I need to go to bed soon, and the time it would take to write out my feels about home would cut into sleep time. So here is one of those stupid assed survey quizzes that we always get sucked into doing on Facebook or whatever. I may have done this one before. I have no idea. Besides, I'm sure most of the answers have changed by now. Also, I have no idea why the questions were written in SCREAMING font.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? I was indirectly named after my step-great-grandfather (his name was Jess). 

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Last week, I'm guessing. Stress does that. 

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? It looks like chicken scratch.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? A good pile of pastrami.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Yep. The boy. And a dog. And a cat. And a husband.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Initially. Then I'd realize what a drain I was on myself, and I'd totally bow out of my life.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM? Doesn't everyone?


9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? No. Hell no. Even if fat does bounce, just no.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Cheerios. I'm boring.


12. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Black sesame, which is usually expensive and can only be obtained from a specialty grocery store out in the suburbs. Fuck my life.

13. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Their eyes. You can tell what kind of bullshit they're trying to sell you.

14. RED OR PINK? Black.

15.WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? My body. Not even the fact that I'm morbidly obese. Just the fact that it's rebelling. I'll worry about the fat after I get other things fixed.

16. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? It's hard to say. I feel like I've lost too many people to count, be it through actual death or just losing touch, and they all matter to me.

17. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Black shorts because fuck the cold, and I'm barefoot because fuck shoes.

18. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The cuckoo clock telling me what time it is.

19. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? The most obnoxious color you can think of.

20. FAVORITE SMELLS? Petrichor. Look it up.


22. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Not really a sports person, but I'll watch a baseball game once in a while.

23. HAIR COLOR? Natural, for once. Maybe some gray.

24. EYE COLOR? Light brown.


26. FAVORITE FOOD? Uru-Swati. Vegetarian South Indian restaurant. I need money so I can get some more.

27. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Huh huh....happy endings.

28. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It was okay. Book was better. Got to ogle David Tennant, so it wasn't a complete waste.


30. SUMMER OR WINTER? Autumn. Fuck you, I'll pick what I want.

31. HUGS OR KISSES? Depends on who is doing what. What?

32. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Still trying to finish "Lawrence In Arabia", which is a history of how the Middle East was shaped, but I keep getting sidetracked. Maybe I'm bored. I don't know. I shouldn't be bored. I guess I should try again and then just give it up if it doesn't work.

33. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Don't have one.

34. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? Not a damned thing, because I don't have cable.

35. FAVORITE SOUND(S): Thunderstorms, my family hanging out together, music.
36. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Can't we have both?

37. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Halfway across the fucking country.

38. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Being sarcastic.


40. HOW DID YOU MEET YOUR SPOUSE/SIGNIFICANT OTHER? We met online, and this is actually our twelfth dating anniversary. LOL at the people who said it wouldn't work. Oh, and fuck you.

Saturday, October 3, 2015


I'm balls fucking tired, so you're getting a shit post, and you're going to LIKE it.

Now with pictures and gifs!

I spent my day grocery shopping like a responsible adult, except for the part where I was high on pain meds because my back hurt and I still have trouble coping with traveling. Norco was there for me. Thanks, Norco!

So we got home and I had and still have a really bad headache, but then I decided that I was going to do a load of laundry, bake a ham, make deviled eggs, and whip up pumpkin snickerdoodle cookie dough. Because it all makes sense.

In the midst of putting groceries away earlier, I talked to my mom and found out that a lady who was practically a second mother to me when I was a kid and was there to help me through labor with the boy is now battling breast cancer. I cannot stress how much I fucking HATE cancer, and how much I hate this month because seriously. Fuck the Komen Foundation. And no, that doesn't mean I hate all charities. I just hate them.

I keep having these little episodes where I think about California, the road trip, and just how it seemed the trip was too short to fit everything in. I think this calls for a longer post tomorrow, because seriously. Tired. And I probably need to shower.

Huh. I still need to watch the new Doctor Who episode. I don't know about you fellow Whovians, but I'm damned sick of Clara and will be glad as shit when she fucks off. Missy kind of grew on me with the last episode, but I'm still kinda "eh" about it all. Which sucks, because I like Peter Capaldi. I was gonna post a Capaldi gif, but they have nothing good, so here is Matt Smith doing his drunken giraffe dance. I got to see him do a version of this live. Suck it, bitches.

Aldi had Caribbean Jerk mac and cheese. Yes, I bought some. I'm curious. I hope it doesn't suck. I have no clever pics or gifs for this, so whatever.

My dog is staring down the ham. No.

I can't think of anything else to say, so let's end before I post more stupid shit.

Friday, October 2, 2015

Anxiety 2015

Note: I started writing this post not long after the last post, but lazy.

Yeah yeah, I was supposed to write this a few days ago. I had stuff go on. Sue me.

Not really. I have no money.

The day after we came back, I started setting our stuff in order. Needed to clean, get groceries, love the cat because she was pissed, get into the doctor to have my ear checked out, all that jazz. I noticed something though. I was in super mega bitch mode. Like any little thing set me off. It culminated in a pretty large fight with my husband. A lot of shit was said, and it got ugly. I didn't care at the time though. I wanted to fight dirty and be as cunty as I could be. I succeeded. Luckily, things were worked out and I calmed down a bit.

I went to the doctor the next day for my ear. It was a pretty raging infection that required some heavy antibiotics. Twice, because it didn't leave the first fucking time and I couldn't hear for shit for like a month. I finally managed to clear it up with Flonase, Sudafed, Benadryl, a neti pot, a young priest and an old priest, and a massive amount of cussing.

I was kidding about the priests. Maybe.

After the blow up fight and the ear infection diagnosis, I started feeling weird. Like I wasn't getting enough air. My chest would feel funny. My heart would start beating really fast and cause my head to pound. It was hard to fall asleep at night. I started thinking the bad thoughts again, things I thought had banished after the last round of breakdowns and anxiety. But no. They all came out to play: dying in my sleep. Losing my family. Random events occurring that would decimate the city I live in. Just heaps of nastiness. Then things came to a head.

It was about a week after we got back from California. We were heading out to the DMV to formally register the new car and get license plates. I was still feeling terrible, but thought it was because I was sleep deprived and needed caffeine. I stopped to get coffee, but I still felt strange. We managed to make it through the paperwork and lines before I gave in. My husband took me to the ER. I was there for a looooong time, mainly because they thought I had developed a blood clot from traveling such a long distance. What the what? That was not a theory I was expecting. It was mildly terrifying.

In the twelve or so hours I was there, I had all the fun tests: blood, pee, CT scan, ultrasound, and an X-ray. I had three or four different doctors pop in, along with random students and such. I was there long enough to watch someone die, which was just fucking awful. Not for me! No, I felt awful for the dude and for the doctors and nurses that worked for an hour straight trying to keep him alive. I don't even know how they handle that, and since the hospital is central to a lot of high crime areas, I'm guessing they deal with it on an almost daily basis. But I digress.

It was finally decided that I did not have a blood clot, that my problems were probably......mental. Yup. Anxiety. I think I had figured that out a while ago, but when it manifests itself as physical symptoms, you freak the fuck out and panic even more and cause more ailments. It's the circle of LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE. So I came home and dealt with it as best as possible. I didn't (and still don't) want to be back on medication, so I started figuring out what would cause my anxiety to rise. I eventually did. Traveling. Of any form.

Ooooh boy.

Exciting story to be continued on the fifth. I can only write about it so much at a time because it is kind of triggering.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

A Month Of Bullshit Ahead

Many moons ago, when blogs were popular, some group or whatever started something called "National Blog Writing Month". It consisted of writing one blog post per day during the month of October. It's sort of similar to "National Novel Writing Month", but much easier for me to do because I SUCK at fiction. No, my talents lie in the non-fiction realm. Anyway, I don't know if it still goes on, but I usually do it, if for no other reason than sheer boredom.

I know I started a blog entry at the end of August that was supposed to be two parts. I only finished one with the promise that the second part would be posted the next day. Yeah, that happened. Not. I got sidetracked with tons of shit, developed illnesses on top of illnesses, and was just generally being lazy as hell.

Since I will be writing every day this month, I guess I'll finish that post.


I have a good reason for it though, I swear! I haven't been sleeping at night (I'll delve into that more later), then my dog was sick yesterday and he had to start taking a medication that had him peeing like a mofo. So I was up a LOT last night, trying to rush him outside before he leaked all over. He only had one accident, so I was pretty successful. However, my sleep is severely compromised, and I'm probably running on maybe eight hours of snooze time.....spread out over three and a half days.

So I leave you with that for the first day of blog writing. Since I'm horrible at thinking of topics to talk about, leave me suggestions. I'll probably write about it, unless they're insanely personal or invasive.

Cheers, bitches.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Conclusion Of The Road Trip, And The Lingering Anxiety

I meant to write this a long assed time ago, but time passes quickly, and life happens.

I wanted to talk about the rest of our trip, what happened with the car, and how everything is leading me back to anxiety land. Let's work our way through everything.

The last time I wrote was when we were stuck in Winnemucca. A little after I had hit "post" on that entry, my mom called. She said that her and my dad had been talking, and my dad was of the mind that we should just ditch the Volkswagen, and we'd pick up a car in Reno. Then he would pay the first 18 months of payments so we'd have time to get back on our feet.


This was kind of big, so I discussed it with my husband until my parents arrived. I mean, it's not something you take lightly. That's a huge gift. In the end, we decided to see what was up with our car, then if need be, hit up the CarMax in Reno and find something. We didn't need OMG BRAND NEW, we just needed something that wouldn't die and would take us home after our vacation.

My parents arrived a little after 11, and we told them our decision. With that worked out, we all collapsed. Too much drama in too short a time span can wear you down.

The next morning, my mom and I popped over to a grocery store to get some breakfast stuff, and my dad and husband kept discussing things. We came back and they went to see what was wrong with the car. I hopped in the shower, thinking I'd have some time, but I guess it didn't take long to come to the conclusion that the car was a loss. It would cost a small fortune to fix, and that probably wouldn't even hold. So the gentleman fixing it was gifted with the car (I mean, there were new parts and almost brand new tires on it, so salvage that shit), and we packed up, shoved ourselves into my parent's car, and took off for Reno.

We got there near lunchtime and hit the CarMax. Let me just say, I LOVED them. This is my free endorsement of their company. We laid out what we needed, what we wanted to spend, and what we already had in mind. The lady lined up cars to look at, but none really appealed to us until my husband saw the Hyundai (which wasn't even on our list). We both fell in love with the 2013 Accent, and my dad was like, "Don't look at me, just pick something that works for you guys." So that is what we got. It took all of two hours to find a car, get approved for a loan, and finish the paperwork. We celebrated with In N Out Burger (if you've had it, then you know that that is the best way to celebrate). We finally left Reno, with my parents going home with our dog (because he'd be more comfortable at their place), and us heading for my in-law's house.

I'm just going to gloss over our stay in California, because it isn't really critical to my story, but I will probably come back later to discuss my feels about being at home.

We left California on July 17th. Our goal was to stay overnight in Kingman, AZ, hit the Grand Canyon the next day, then drive to Gallup, NM and stay overnight. Then we'd hit Tulsa, OK for another night, and then home. We should have been home Sunday night. Nah. Why? Anxiety. My anxiety, coming back to rear its ugly and unwelcome head.

Our drive out of California was fine, until we hit the CA/AZ border. I had already been feeling kind of anxious, mostly likely because of the issues we had driving to California. It started raining. I was driving. I looked down for a quick second and discovered the check engine light was on. In our newish car. That shouldn't have any issues.

You can imagine how I felt.

We stopped in Needles, CA to try and figure shit out. The car was running fine, there were no other warning lights on, so my husband decided that we'd just continue to Kingman and we'd solve things from there. The light stayed on. And on. We got to our motel and discussed options. It was decided that we would get things arranged with the front desk, just in case we had to stay another night. I looked up dealerships and auto repair shops for the next day. A friend suggested going to an auto store to see if they had the code reading machines so we could get a free read on why the light was on. I went to bed anxious as fuck.

The next morning, my husband stopped at an Auto Zone and got the code read. Knock sensor, whatever the hell that is. He decided to take it up to the Hyundai dealership, but on the way, the light turned off.

What. The. Fuck.

He stopped in anyway, and the gentleman said that it sometimes happens, and no one knows why. That's fucking reassuring. When he got back, we packed up and left, heading towards Gallup, because I was just too damned anxious at this point to even try to go to the Grand Canyon, much to my regret now, because who the hell knows when we will travel that way again.

We made it to Gallup in record time, car still running smoothly, with my anxiety running smoothly beside it. The next day was going to be a longish drive (twelve plus hours to Claremont, OK), and I started pleading with my husband to stop in Amarillo for the night. I couldn't do it. I could not face driving that far, with fears of the car breaking down on a lonely stretch of interstate. The anxiety was consuming me, and the thoughts were getting darker and darker. I finally wore him down outside of Albuquerque, and he told me to find a motel in Amarillo and see if I could reschedule our night in Claremont. Unbeknownst to him, I already had everything prepared, with the exception of the rescheduling. Anxiety fucks you up and gives you heightened senses and organizational skills, I swear.

We arrived in Amarillo in the early afternoon, with me still keyed up from the drive. I had found myself obsessively counting the miles between each town, hoping we'd make it to the next one without problems, and tensing up every time we hit a damned pothole or bump.

Our motel was right off the interstate and the night passed uneventfully, with some swimming and hanging out with people from all over the country. We gassed up and headed out early the next morning for Oklahoma, with me being a nervous twit the whole way. It got worse as we drove further into the state and the cities were small and set out a ways from the road. We stopped at a trading post, and the first thing I did was panic because it was so hot and what were we going to do if the car broke down somewhere before we got to bigger towns and oh my god, this is awful. That is not the rational thinking of a normal human.

My brain calmed down a smidge as we got into Oklahoma City and the turnpike for Claremont, because that is just a huge cluster of civilization. We finally got to our hotel a little after three, with some fantastically ominous clouds to the east. Being Oklahoma, I was expecting tornadoes and the apocalypse, but we emerged unscathed. Except for the ear infection I developed (which will be brought up later on). And the never ending anxiety.

The next day found us traveling for ten plus hours. I wasn't as panicky as before, because Missouri is pretty populated (shockingly so), but I found myself doing the counting the miles between cities thing again. It's a crazy little game to play when you're already going nuts. I breathed easier when we hit St. Louis, but once we got into the desolate wilderness of Illinois, I could feel myself tensing up again. Yes, I know it isn't desolate wilderness, but when your brain is being sucky, it sure feels like that. So I started counting the miles again. Small farm towns, Springfield, little cities, Bloomington-Normal, farmland, finally the beginning of the suburbs of Chicago. I wanted to cry when we got there. I knew I was almost home and could lay down these stupid fears.

Except I didn't.

Tomorrow: Part 2: Anxiety, Potential Agoraphobia, And An ER Visit.

Friday, June 26, 2015

Road Trips, Fuck Ups, And Faith In Humanity

Hi. I forgot I had a blog. Now I'm back to bitch. Of course. But I also have some good shit to say, even if it feels like nothing is going well.

Most people know that we left Chicago on Monday to start our road trip to California. We planned it like we planned all of our road trips: on the fly, on a budget, and three days long. Except. It's Friday now. And we are in Winnemucca, Nevada.

I could go into a long explanation on what happened, but the short of it is that in the middle of Wyoming, our car started acting like a fool. We stayed overnight in Rawlins, consulted with a mechanic, and thought the problem was fixed.


On the way to Salt Lake City on Wednesday (and a day late already), the issue presented itself again. It happened on the fucking mountain pass between the border of Wyoming and SLC. That was not fun and it was mildly terrifying. We chug into a shop that I found. They took us to our motel when it was determined that the problem would take a while.

Thursday dawns, and the shop is called. The problem is identified. A quote is given ($995!), and we give the go ahead for it to be fixed. We pick it up that night, and it seems to be running fine.

That brings us to this morning.

We left Salt Lake City. The car was running smoothly. I took over driving for my husband in Wells, Nevada.

And the trouble started again. While I was driving. Through a fucking mountain pass.


We found a rest area and my husband took over. The issue persisted. By this time, we were 80 miles from Winnemucca. I was frantically calling shops, calling my mom, and trying to pray for our safety (which is hard when you kind of give up on religion). We limped in to Winnemucca and promptly stalled out on the main road. Of course. My husband eventually found a place to park, I eventually got connected with a shop, and we were on our way, trying not to stall.

And now here I am. The car is with the shop, my parents are on their way (500 miles and 8 hours....I owe them so damned much), and here we are in another motel.

I'm understandably done with this day, this week, this whole fucking journey. I've cried too damned much today. I'm crying now because I have no idea what's going to happen, how we're going to pay for this shit (because it will probably be expensive), and how we're even going to make it back to Chicago.

So now that I've gotten that out of the way, let me say that my faith in humanity has restored. Everyone that has helped us has gone out of their way to make sure we are safe and taken care of. The mechanics in Rawlins suggested shit before doing unnecessary work. It didn't work forever, but it held out until we got to SLC. The Rawlins Days Inn front desk clerks gave us a "break-down" rate and waived the pet fee.

In Salt Lake City, I have a ton of gratitude for the mechanics who got us in as fast as possible, gave us a ride to the motel, and did everything they could to make sure our car was okay. That also didn't work, but the more I think about it, the more I don't really fault them. This car is a damned lemon, and we should have dumped it years ago, but we kind of needed transportation and couldn't get anything new. So yeah.

The Midvale La Quinta also gets my love for squeezing us in after I figured we'd have to be in SLC for another night and we didn't want to stay at the ass Motel 6 again. They let us check-in early, gave us a nice room, and were the best people ever. I also give special thanks to our dear friend Ash for picking us up to take us to the mechanic when the car was ready, and it was lovely to see her and our other friend Dagny for a few hours.

Everyone I have talked to in Winnemucca has been extremely helpful. So many shops had too much work to do (races going on), but they had no problem recommending other places and getting me in touch with them. The gentleman that is fixing our car got us in today. He calmed me down (because duh, anxiety and just being generally upset), got us in to a motel with a special rate, and gave us a lift over to the place. The lady who runs the motel is sweet as hell, and this whole place gives me shades of the 70s, because it looks like my grandma's living room. I love it.

I realize things could be worse. A lot worse. I expect them to get worse, but I'm hoping they don't. I hope that it is something that can be easily fixed and isn't expensive. Hell, even if it gets us into California, that would be great. I can work shit out from California.

I'm weary. I love that we get to spend time together as a family, but the worry has me worn down. I can only imagine how my husband feels. He's taken the brunt of the driving, the brunt of me freaking out, the brunt of the worry because it's his car and his mode of transportation to work. He's asleep now, and I'm not even saying shit. He needs the rest.

So that is my saga so far. I can only hope that my faith in humanity will continue on and that we will be on our way tomorrow with not that much money spent and a car that will run for just a bit longer.

Thursday, March 12, 2015


A few weeks ago, I ran across this article. Go ahead and read it. You won't understand the rest of what I write if you don't. I promise you won't regret it.

Done reading? Good. Now I can get on to why I'm blogging about said story.

While the author had a radically different weight-loss surgery from my own, her weight gain story is the same. Binge eating brought us to this point. Binge eating was not addressed in the consults for weight-loss surgery. I too had a psychologist visit before I got the crap-band. It sounded the same as hers, depression and (this part still makes me laugh) lack of friendships outside the internet. Other than that, go ahead and get cut open. Surgery done, sent home, nothing to address what our minds do to us. Continued binge eating.

Yeah, I said it. I binge eat still, and while I'm not gaining weight, I'm not losing anything, either. I eat too much crap when I'm depressed, stressed, bored, tired, drunk....the list goes on and on. Do I regret it? Yes, every single time. Do I promise myself I'll stop and do things right starting the next week? Yes, and of course it has to start next week, on a Monday, because it makes perfect fucking sense in my food-addled mind. New week, new start.

If you looked at my life story, you can see why I binge eat. Lots of things happened to me that I do not want to discuss (in public, anyway). My salvation was eating to numb the pain. Eating to numb the anger. Eating to feel happy. Thirty fucking years of bullshit welling up and here is the result: still fat, still feeling shame, still feeling sadness. The only difference is that I'm older, the weight is not going to come off as easy as the last time I lost a huge amount of fat, and now I have a piece of plastic that is slowly trying to kill me, but I can't afford to have it taken out.

You can see why this story struck a chord with me. Everything is similar. The doctors don't get that we need our minds sorted before they start cutting into us to rearrange organs, place medical devices, or staple stomachs. They think that a surgery can fix everything, and that we just have to "try harder" and be "mindful of calories". Seriously, that was said to me. By a doctor.

This is another thing that irks me. People thinking that weight loss is easy and that surgery is a quick fix or a cop out. I used to think that. I no longer do. When you have a food obsession, nothing is easy. Everything is difficult. It is not like addictions to other things. We can live without alcohol or cigarettes or drugs. We can't live without food. A band around your stomach is not going to stop you from eating a tub of ice cream if you feel like everyone fucking hates you. Gastric bypass won't stop you from eating the wrong things, even if you know you will suffer the consequences later.

Don't get me wrong. I know the surgeries are successful for countless people, BUT......there is always going to be a small group of patients who don't get that success. It could be because the surgery was faulty. It could be because the medical device is shitty and should be off the market (see: my battle with the crap-band). Then you have the people who cannot stop eating, and while I hate my failure of a surgery, I can't just blame it for my weight and mental issues.

This is what it was and still is like for me. Food is comfort. Food is love. Food is acceptance. That is why it is absolutely fucking ridiculous that more counseling is not offered before surgeons start sharpening their knives. Shit like this needs to be addressed before AND after any type of weight-loss surgery, or else you end up in the same spot, except with messed up insides and shitty health issues.