OUCH!

 I had to have a minor surgery two weekends ago, Sunday actually, I’m not gonna get neck deep into details but I do think I can officially be crowned the queen of broken fingers… also, I’ve broken a lot of toes and my nose twice and my tail bone. 

But fingers are my nemesis. Growing up like Tom Sawyer lends to a lot of injuries and I was raised that unless you could see a bone sticking out or it changed the shape of whatever you broke, you kinda live with it. 

I’ve broken fingers by talking with my hands too close to a brick wall. Dropping furniture, falling off bikes, softball, in fact the story of how my husband and I started dating stars me breaking a finger bringing the ball into the glove. How romantic.

I’ve had my nose broken twice, one by tripping into a steel door and one because I was being bullied in junior high. 

Junior High was fun.

My point being, I tried to ignore this break. I buddy taped it. I took 800mg of Ibuprofen every eight hours and I spent Friday and Saturday this sickly gray color. I was in so much pain I would have rather given birth to all four of my offspring at the same time than feel that pain. So, I went to the hospital and they took x-rays and said that I’d splintered the bone rather than just a break. 

After my little surgery I “whisper yelled” to my husband that I was, and I quote “ High as FUCK!” THREE times. It was a nice little mental vacation.

I’m binging Succession because I just canceled HBO MAX. There’s just nothing I like about it but then I palm slapped myself because I need to finish this last season. I found a way to get a “trial” week of MAX so I’m plowing through. I’m gonna miss Roman. He’s basically the voice in my head. 

I know I still owe a Robb update but, I’ve been too lazy. I just don’t want to unpack it but, for those on pins and needles, I will.

Night luvs,

Me

I’ve been debating this post….

     

I just don’t know but if helps anyone at all then I feel like I should share.

I’ve been a reader of a blog for about 20 years. The writer is a woman, author, artist, Photographer, mama to two children and when I started to read her she wasn’t a mom yet. 

We became friends. Blogging was new. I didn’t know how to do everything and I asked her for help.

When she had her children she was struck by debilitating postpartum depression and she went to visit “ The Ranch” “ Sticky sock vacation” and from then on she struggled hard. Infant hood was difficult, toddlers were difficult, preteens difficult…. You get the idea. She went through a divorce after her husband found her hanging in the basement. She was given an HGTV show but couldn’t do it. Medications didn’t work. Therapy didn’t work. She’d sit in her closet crying calling her own Mama to come mama her. She tried everything, including self medicating.

She felt weak and broken but every week thousands of readers followed her journey and she was my friend.

She wrote a book about her taking part in an experimental treatment so dangerous that she had to sign away her life, literally. She was forced deeper down than a coma, brain dead, then brought back to life. She pushed through those treatments. Her parents by her side, her mother her biggest cheerleader. They attended every “ death session.” Fed her, cradled her and as they are devout,  Mormons( she was not…. At All) they prayed for her. 

She had two children to live for, after all. 

The book was so deep and beautifully written that I asked my husband to read it so that he could understand what depression feels like as she wrote about in a way that I could not seem to myself. Wrote how we are needing support, not for people to try and fix us which is my husband’s go to mode. “ let’s go on more walks! See a movie! Shop at Target, meet with people for dinner!” No, God damnit! Those sound excruciating! Don’t try and fix it. Let me cry. Let me sob and hate my brain and the abuse that caused my brain to be my stupid brain and why can’t I just feel normal?!?! Mother Fuck!!!!!!  And nod. Hold my hand. Look into my eyes and by letting me flush it out, I can help me. Just sit there as I do. Then let’s hit Target!

The media knew her as Dooce. I knew her as Hea-ther B Arm-strong..ALWAYS add the B!!

She died a couple of weeks ago. Announced on Instagram, Twitter, and the NATIONAL NEWS! She’d touched millions of women. We watched her struggle and get back up and continue the circle until finally, she killed herself. She was the hardest fighter I’d ever known. My heart sank. God, if someone who fights as hard and as long as Heather has can’t fight anymore then where is the hope?

The world has lost something that should have moved it off its axis. Yet, it didn’t. It never does. It just goes on,  sadder, lonelier, harder….. But someday her family will laugh again and then someday her family will talk about her and laugh again and her children will have lives and be happy and find love and somewhere she will be watching.

Tracy

Vaycay

 We made reservations at our favorite French Quarter hotel for the end of September for our 30th anniversary. We had intended to go to Boston but don’t want to risk flight Eff ups nor do I want to be inches from breathers, you know, strangers that breathe. I’m not a fan. Covid fucked that up for me along with blowing out birthday candles. I will never eat a cake after the candles/cake have been sprayed with spit bombs. 

Anyway…. We’re going a month earlier than our actual anniversary to try and avoid a hurricane. Isn’t it awesome living on this side of the country? Always a surprise just around the corner.

We’ll be there for about a week which is the longest we’ve ever stayed. I booked a swamp tour to see alligators and if you have a good memory you know that the last time I was in a swamp I completely lost my grip and ran away with my Ray Bans flying off into the dark waters never to be seen again. This time we won’t be walking, we’ll be in a boat and I’m gonna drink a few shots before heading out. Good plan. We’re gonna tour the Tabasco factory and go to museums, including the pharmacy museum! My husband says they don’t hand out samples so I’ll have to take my own, I guess. Art exhibits! Amazing food!!! Haunted hotel! Beignets!!! 

Whispy drapes blowing into our room, the smell of the city, the sounds of Jazz, the feeling the place gives me deep into my dna. Soft, warm, peace, love, calm. I just want to bathe in the atmosphere of NOLA, come home with my brain, heart and soul recharged. 

Even the planning lightens my deepest places hidden in the dark so I don’t see them. 

I wish I could send that feeling to anyone who is sad. 

Speaking of sad, I put a photo on Instagram. We’d just been in a store and walked passed the baby girl clothes. I sucked it up and only ran my finger down one fluffy pink dress before putting that sharp stabbing pain into its box.

Today my husband saw the picture and walked up to me, not knowing that he had seen it, and kissed my forehead. I asked what that was for and he said your eyes are sad in that photo you took. Maybe it all doesn’t fit into the box sometimes. 

Me.

Wait…What?

 I had a doctors appointment on Tuesday. I’ve been able to drop three meds and am taking almost no insulin. I researched vitamins that support the pancreas since mine had taken early retirement and it’s kicked back in a little already. Go Pancreas! 

Anyway, because I’m, as my doc says “ A delicate flower” I’ve been seeing her ever single month for 14 months!!! I know, right? Like, pay for dinner once in awhile. But, the time has finally come…. She says I can go every three or six months, up to me! I was like, are you sure you can afford that? You just built a new building, how will you pay for that if I’m not seeing you every 3-4 weeks? Will you be ok emotionally? Should we go to therapy? We chose three months because I really think she needs a little weening off period. 

So, I have POTS, thanks Covid, you little bitch, and it affects my heart and it’s why I’m a fainting girl now. It’s so chic, so exciting to never know when you’ll be waking up on the ground. I love it. But guess what? It qualifies me for a…. Disabled parking thingy. 

Yes, THAT made me feel old as fuck! But like, I still have to walk once I get in, right? So…. ? Anyway, we got it and you have never seen anyone as excited over a disabled parking space as me! It is my true mission in life to get the best, closest, most VIP parking space at all the places! Like, I am THAT competitive, ok, no judging! This is like a dream come true for me. Front door service? Can we throw in some bottle service as well? No, nobody will do that, but I do get to grin deep inside while the voice in my brain yells “I Win!!” To anyone past five spaces away from the door. Ya, I have never said that I’m not petty.

The husband took me shopping after the doc appointment for Mother’s Day, that one special day of the year where two of my offspring flip me off with their searing silence. It’s awesome! Anyway, I picked out a couple of outfits AND I have drooled over this particular brand of shoes for YEARS. They are quirky, leather and hand painted, they have boots, shoes, sandals and I want every single one. Like I actually go visit them on their website and have for like three, four years? They are stunning and like I said, quirky, as in you probably won’t have to worry that you and 10 other women are wearing the same shoe at an event. I’ve never bought them because I was always a jeans and t-shirt girl and never thought that they would fit the look…. But, since I have literally thrown out all my old clothes, bought new everything, yes, jeans too and T-shirts but dresses and COLOR… I know that I can fit these in and even on a jeans day, roll the cuff up a tiny little roll and show some spark! Not that I don’t express my quirks, cus I do, but these are amazing! The husband bought me a pair and I’m swooning! As in, I really want to place them on my pillow and snuggle them. It does not take much to make me happy! 

I have a Robb update but I’ll save it for next time. I need to go watch some true crime documentary to calm me down before bed.

Don’t judge.

Night luvs oh, and to a bear, nice pic. 

Tracy

The Adventure

 The news is giving me anxiety so let’s do something else…

The time someone might have attempted to kidnap me in the weirdest way possible….

When I was four we moved into this brand new apartment building, smelled like wood…. Anyway, it butted up to a field on, I “ think” Nevada??? Or Hamilton after it changes???? I have a difficult time remembering those streets I used to know like the back of my hand. 

Anyway, I was allowed to cross the busy street by myself to get candy from what was or was next to a building supply store. I could take my two year old brother too, just look both ways, you know, good parenting.

I’ve written about this place before. I had a best friend whose name was Doug. We were adventurers. Remember we made and found arrow heads and the district school  bus station was in front of the apartments and it had real clay just under the surface. My uncle worked there. We rode bikes everywhere. We’d stay up all night during slumber parties and wait for the coyotes to come out then we’d watch Saturday morning cartoons and go out to hunt them… They were, obviously, gone by then and doubtfully afraid of two four year olds with homemade arrowheads, anyway.

So one day, like magic, like the Wizard of Oz, a hot air balloon landed in the field between our apartments and the street. Of course Doug and I were fascinated by OZ showing up and all so we went to check it out. It was loud with huge bursts of air and gas and stunning in every single way. The man, who was old, to us, and rather looked like OZ asked if we wanted a ride, of course we did! Plus we were basically wild animals anyway, no need to get permission from the adults who also just happened to live with us, parents some called them. So he gets out and heaves us in and we take off! I can only see through tiny holes in the basket but, I mean, it was super high to four year olds and then I could even see the top of the apartments which is when, over the loud noises and  happy squeals I hear a woman losing her mind. She’s screaming at the top of her voice… what’s she saying?

Tracy!!! Tracy,God  Damn it! Get down. 

That was pretty hard for me to do considering it was impossible but she yelled at me anyway until the nice man from OZ lowered us down. My mom was both happy and furious. She grabbed me and Doug, I felt so bad for him having to end our adventure on this sour note and all, then she turned her attention to the man who gently began to fly away.

See, my mom apparently had a line in the sand. Go anywhere you want EXCEPT into a hot air balloon. That’s where I found my limit. Simple enough I thought as air balloons rarely drop from the sky I imagined.

It was a good adventure and after we’d had to be confined to our homes for the next day we talked about it often. 

Tracy

Shooting

 I live over a mall, there, I said it. Just a few blocks from me is another mall, in Allen, Texas. Yesterday my husband stopped by to surprise me with some bath products I was needing. Family owned business, they make my sugar scrub or my balm while we’re standing there if the scent we want is sold out. Super great trial giveaways. They just stand at the door and you can take one on your way by or in. 

My husband got off work early, ran in and got my products. Today people were killed in there. Murdered by an active shooter. The news says one shooter but many witnesses say they saw another take off his tactical gear and jump over a fence. Police crawling all over where I live searching. Nine people dead including the fucking fuck who decided to take a weapon to a mall on a Saturday and now people down. 7 more injured, the ages range from 5-61 years old. Word we are getting is multiple children shot but, it’s hard to get the info as it changes so fast.

Last Saturday my husband and son were there getting the son some pants. Both times my husband was there were the exact same times as these shootings happened.

My husband conceal carries a gun. I hate it. Today I decided that I’d rather he have a fighting chance than be a fish in a barrel. 

We are all fish in a barrel these days. No safe places, not schools, not theaters, not grocery stores, not malls, not churches… Fish waiting for the day we are in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s not the guns by the way, it’s the people and FUCK THAT SHIT! If Republicans actually believed that we’d have mental health care funded and free not shut down and struggling to stay open. Fuck you, Texas. Fuck you Abbott, you worthless twat. Fuck your Ted Cruz you traitorous asshole. Fuck you voters who care about the fetus but not the five year old! Pro-Life bullshit!

Ya, I’m fucking mad. Remove books!!! More guns more better! Really? Where were all those tough guys with guns in TEXAS when the shooter was killing people? These brave patriots who talk about civil war and how they’re gonna blow shit up. Fuck you! Were you running away? Hiding in a supply closet? Crying like a bitch? 

Australia has put a travel warning up about the US for violence and terrorism. Ya think?? 

Greatest country in the world, please. Take an actual educated look at this place, last in nearly everything and do something real to make America Great because your red hat isn’t cutting it, Bitch.

Here’s the Thing About Robb…

 I’m the most loyal friend you’ll ever have. My ONE requirement, at the risk of sounding like trump, gah, is that you MUST be loyal. By this I mean, you will not talk shit about me behind my back and if you hear someone talking shit about me you will feel and respond as if they just punched YOU. You don’t blame my child for being a victim of something life changing, you don’t blurt out some petty shit from five years ago that you’ve been holding a grudge over. No grudge holding. Spit it out then and there. That gives us a chance to work through it. For me to be called on it in the moment so that I can hear you and understand how that comment or action hurt you. I’m open to hearing it if you remember that we are friends while you’re addressing it. Don’t talk down to me or take a dig at a personal sore spot, use something I’ve told you against me.  I let very very very few people into my heart. It sounds like I’m a dick if I say that if I’ve let you in, you’re lucky, but what I mean is that you’ve gained a friend that will defend you 24/7, listen without judge, be furious on your behalf if your hurt, protect your heart with all of mine. Sit on your side of the courtroom when no one else will. Stand at your door and send them away with a warning. Fight your battles when you can’t.  I am the friend you want in the trenches. 

And what I ask in return is that you are all of those things for me. Be honest, call me on my shit, tease me, tell me your opinion, to.my. face. And I’ll respect that, listen and hear you. I can laugh at myself and my quirks if it’s funny rather than passive aggressive. I tell everybody including my family that they can say anything as long as it’s funny and not a camouflaged punch. 

If you are a very very rare dear friend and you betray the “rules,” hurt me intentionally and call it a joke, like a weak chicken shit. Punch below the belt and pull the rug out from underneath my feet, we are done. I’ve walked away from close family, you can’t think I can’t walk away? You think I won’t walk away?  No, Sir. It’s my heart. It switches off and builds a wall up faster than you can say “ Would you fancy some tea?” Locked down. One time in my entire life where that changed and my heart opened back up. And you are not them.

Could we ever be friends again? Maybe, but I’ll never put my heart in your hands again. There will never be a secret again. There will always be just that little shadow in the corner that’s my hurt reminding me that you won’t be trusted again. We could talk and laugh and you will think it’s the same but I’ll know that it’s not. And it’s not important to me for you to see the little shadow or hear the slightest of changes in my voice or notice the distance or feel the difference, because I don’t care.

And that my friends is exactly where Robb and I stand today. It’s really just a matter of time, anyway. My son said they all people will eventually let you down and that is probably true, but all people aren’t let into our tiny little heart. 

Tracy