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Month: September, 2012

On Stress and Management

I am one of those people who either clean obsessively or bake uncontrollably when stressed. When my husband is deployed, my house is so clean, that you could eat off of any surface and I would be confident that not a single germ would hit your food. If I bake while stressed, I end up with nearly 5 pounds of fudge, at least a dozen batches of brownies and enough cookies to sell during Girl Scout season. However, I never allow anyone to eat my baked goods in front of me because it feels like they don’t care about my troubles and are just eating away my feelings. So rude. In the end, most of my baked goods get thrown away. 

This past week, I have been so overwhelmed. If it’s not my daughter’s constant crying and need to be held, it’s my dog barking at every little thing that makes a sound. If it’s not myself being bombarded by insanely stupid questions, it’s insensitive remarks about my husband’s deployment. I am so far beyond being able to take a deep breath or count to ten. No. What I need now is a good long, loud scream and a few hours to be absolutely along so I can let out very long and heavy sobs. Furthermore, I am so sick and tired of hearing other people’s problems. I especially cannot sympathize if your problems are not so different than mine or I have been there and done that. 

I am usually not like this. Usually I am able to handle my own problems as well as others and remain pretty calm, but I am just done. I feel worn, and stretched so thin. I need a massage, I need therapy, and I need a large bottle of tequila, a shot glass, and some good music to dance to. 

When I was in college and I felt overwhelmed and stressed, I could just rely on getting drunk and dancing my problems away. Even when I woke up the next morning and nothing was solved, I felt better just having that release. Where is my release now? I can’t get drunk and go dancing. I have a baby at home. I can’t take a few minutes to myself and cry because again, I have a baby who is doing her own crying. I cannot even put the baby to bed and then finally have the night to myself because I am too fucking tired. I put the baby to bed, take shower, and sleep. That is all I can gather enough energy to do. 

I feel like the absolute worst mother in the world because my baby cries because she wants to be held. I cannot hold her all day. It will just be hard for us to break this habit in the long run, so I cannot do it. And to be clear, she is not crying because I never hold her. I spend at least 8 hours a day holding her. I pee while holding her, I dress while holding her, and eat while holding her. And let’s be clear here, sometimes I cannot dress or eat because she wants to be held a certain way. I shouldn’t feel resentment towards my baby but it is hard not to when all I want is 5 minutes of peace and quiet and she is screaming so loud that my ear drums are begging me for relief. I would also like to make a disclaimer here that she is not colicky, she is NOT gassy. She is simply crying because she wants to be held every waking moment. It is a habit I have been trying to break since she was 3 months old. 

I miss my husband. I miss having help around the house. I miss feeling like I had someone to vent to at the end of the day. I miss talking to another human without having to hear bitching and moaning about stupid fucking self-obsessed problems. I miss not being on the verge of tears at all hours of the day. 

So where does the management part come in? Well, it doesn’t. Because how can you manage things you cannot control. I cannot control my baby’s constant crying. I cannot control all the people walking by my house that make my dog bark like a maniac. I cannot control the arrogant people who think that their lives are so so hard and feel the need to vent to me when I am sitting here in a house all alone because my husband happens to be a VERY brave man want to serve his country for all the right reasons. 

I’d love to write more, but now the baby is crying. Again. Why? Because I am sitting 2 and a half inches from her and not holding her. 



On Friends and Home

I don’t think I could have been anymore excited to move away from Winchester, Massachusetts. I don’t think my smile could have been wider the last time I ever had to make the nearly 2 hour commute from Lesley University to Newport, Rhode Island to see my husband. I had been spending 2-3 nights a week at my mom’s house for almost 3 months so I could attend my classes in Cambridge and then drive home to my soon-to-be husband who was attending school in Newport. It was only a couple of weeks before my wedding when I would stop making that dreadful drive and I remember driving on 93 South, right through the tunnel and saying out loud that I would not miss this. However, only a couple of months after my husband and I wed did my mom move from Winchester to California. As we drove back home after dropping her off at the airport, I gazed at the Boston skyline in the dark early morning and felt a sickness in my stomach. I wouldn’t be here much longer. We were packing to move to Connecticut and then Georgia. I didn’t know when I would be back. However, I softened the ache in my heart and told myself I was moving on to bigger and better adventures. 

Moving to the south meant I was moving away from my friends. Being a Navy wife, you cannot depend on friendships. The word “friend” is so easily tossed around and even though you may never talk to them again after your shared duty station, you act as if that friendship will never end. It is hard for me to do this. I take friendship very seriously. My best friend is my husband. He is my one best friend in the whole wide world that will always be a constant. Yes, I make friends where ever we move, but after a few months, one of us will move away and that is that. Bonds are almost impossible to form because saying good-bye isn’t the easiest thing for me to do. 

This isn’t the easiest way to live. I cannot tell you how many times I break down and cry because I become so homesick. I honestly don’t believe this feeling would become so severe if I had friends other than my husband. When my husband is home, I am perfectly fine. It is when he is deployed that I seek the familiarity of home and friends that I grew up with. 

My personality is what also inhibits me from making good friends. Plain and simply… I am mean. I like to judge horribly dressed girls, I swear, and I don’t apologize for being who I am. I like to just drive around singing to the radio, I like going shopping, I like to talk about almost anything, and I love being spontaneous. I hate people who whine or spend their whole life making up special needs for themselves or closing their minds to adventure. I don’t live the “woe is me” lifestyle and because of that, I don’t give pity. I’d rather not surround myself with that nonsense. Back home, I had friends who were just my type. I had a best friend who was my partner in crime, but our lives have moved in complete opposite directions. It hurts that we had to say good-bye, and it upsets me to think about it, but life is ever evolving and everything happens for a reason. 

My husband is deployed right now. I cannot count how many times I have cried because I just want to go home. I just wan to be around something familiar and stable, but I stay because this is where my husband left me. And when he comes home, I will be here. I never thought I would live the military life, and actually, before my husband joined the Navy, I remember telling him I could never live that life. However, I love my husband to the moon and back and I would do anything to make him happy. He loves serving his country, he loves the adventures we go on, and I love that he is happy. He makes us a beautiful life and I couldn’t be more proud of him. Whenever I feel lonely, I just know that I have him and he can always make things better. He is home. He is my best friend. 


On What Creates Hate

Let’s not kid ourselves here. From the very start, there have always been two things that have started fights, war, and hate. One of which is the vagina. Yes, from the very beginning men have fought and shed blood to claim his territory in that of a woman’s most personal feature. Men have ended friendships, men have betrayed one another, and although some will claim “love” as the conquest; well ladies and gentleman, what is is that you do when you are in love? That’s what I thought. 

The second thing that causes hate and war is the one thing that discourages such actions and feelings. Religion and God. I have always been fascinated with religion, so although you may not agree with what I have to sat, be assured that I have put quite a lot of thought into this and have read and reread many things to have myself come to this conclusion. 

I suppose you could call me a Christian. I believe in God, I believe in Jesus, and I believe that Jesus is the son of God and died for our sins. However, I do not believe, and how can I put this without sounding brash; I do not believe that we as humans are suppose to live as Jesus did. Some Christians teach against Evolution and I find that to be ridiculous because the very definition and “evolution” is change. That would mean you do no believe in change. That’s stupid. I believe in the Big Bang Theory (THEORY), I believe in Evolution, I believe in Darwinism, and I believe in science. Why do I believe all this? Because God made it possible for me to do so. To me, God is an almighty being. He may have created the world and everything in it, but by doing so, he also made science. God does not make the leaves change in the fall. Sorry, he just doesn’t. He created the process that does that. God did not make the summers warm, and the winters cool. Sorry, but again he made the science that makes that happen. Because if he did it any other way, we would not be here. 

I also believe that God made the Bible so that it would change as well. The only reason why the bible hasn’t changed is because people cannot agree on God and religion. There are many different religions and I respect every single one of them. We will never know which religion is the right one, and I hate the people who will try to force their religion on others. In a way, I guess you could say I am not a fan of missions. I find it intolerable that people think they can march right into someone else’s life, claim that if they continue to live they way they are living, they will die in a blazing hell, unless of course they accept Jesus Christ. What do I say to that? Bull Shit. This is not a club. The religion that has the most members is not the winner. If you want to go to Heaven, be concerned with yourself. If someone asks you about Jesus, sure, help them, but don’t shove it down their throat. That is not Godly. 

God is love. Jesus is love. God loves everyone no matter what. God loves me. God loves you. God loves that gay guy over there. God loves that Pagan over yonder and God loves my dog! Jesus taught love, so it baffles me that anyone would make a hate group against any of God’s children. Being gay does not mean you are going to hell. For Fuck’s sake, EVERYONE sins. You cannot judge someone just because they sin differently than you do. It’s kind of like that saying that goes something like, “Don’t act like your shit don’t smell”. This year especially, and even more so since I have moved south, I have found myself defending the gay population even more than ever. I have gay friends, I have gay Christian friends, and they are all loved by God and I WILL see them in Heaven. Why? Because God loves them just as he loves that bigoted pastor who preaches about praying away the gay. The great thing about God is that he doesn’t judge. If people want to walk and act as Jesus did, they need to start loving as he did. 

God put us on this Earth so we could enjoy it, learn from it, make it better, expand our knowledge, and evolve. (See that word again). So there is nothing wrong with putting the world first and taking care of this treasure that God gave us. He could of put us anywhere, but he put us here and gave us the resources we needed to make the world what it is today. Imagine what it could be 100 years from now? 

And, one last thought. Why does Jesus coming mean that we all have to die? Why are there signs saying “How would you spend your last day on Earth knowing Jesus would come tomorrow?” Why does it have to be my last day? Why can’t I make him dinner and have some wine with him. I hear he likes wine. Why do we have to fear him coming? I’d be rushing around figuring out what to cook for him since he’s missed so much. I’d probably make him a pizza. Pizza is sooo good. 

These are just my personal thoughts on religion. You can take it or leave it. You can disagree with me. I just think that receiving God’s love is easier than what people make it out to be. I am comfortable in my relationship with God. Are you?