Sugared Harpy

You guys are delicious, quite possibly tasting of chocolate and cream. Thank you for ignoring my COMMENTS CLOSED decision and emailing my sick ass anyway.

When I make posts such as the last one, they are really for me. This place was supposed to be my venting ground, my therapy. Sometimes, I just need to do that. Say my bit, my feelings in that precise moment. I do not expect anyone to do shit with it and I do not expect anyone to agree with how I feel right then either. I just have to write it so it stops repeating in my head. Which, does no good for me or anyone because inside the spaces of my brain it just grows bigger and badder and eventually takes over my gray matter, conquistador style. There are quite possibly flags claiming bits for insanity and flags claiming other bits for liquor consumption.

I am dealing with my marriage in the best way I can. From the outside, from people who I know love me, I’m hearing repeatedly that I’m doing it in unhealthy ways. And wellll, you know, maybe. Because I’m human. And this is HARD. I don’t know the best path yet, I am taking steps I need but they are steps. I can’t get from Point A to a linear Point B quite as fast as maybe another person but I’m doing what I can each day.

I’ve also been trying not to lose me in the process. In fact, I’ve found more of me than I ever expected in really really REALLY unexpected ways. But those things are not seen from outside my brain; people see me, they see me in what looks like sheer floundering. And a lot of times I totally am. But not always. I don’t always share and not many are asking me directly about it. It’s a depressing topic.

There are little kids involved. There are families. There are friends and loved ones but there is also this man and me dealing with it the best we are able. We’ve been dealing with our own shit for over a year, and people knew that, but they probably didn’t realize the depth of the problems because I don’t share all the time. I maybe need to share more but I have no idea if that’s better.

Knowing I am having big ugly problems are one thing but being confronted with the reality of it are quite another thing and it’s not easy for anyone. It’s hard to realize the people you love are sadly, only human.

In one day, four people have suggested that my presence in their life has caused them to:

~ gain weight
~ not have holiday parties
~ lose friendships
~ act out in irrational ways
~ become bad role models for their children
~ chuck their belief in the goodness of people
~ lose productivity at work
~ ignore responsibility
~ say hurtful things out of fear
~ troll craigslist
~ drink too much

FOUR PEOPLE.

None of these people outright blamed me, I must confess, but it was strongly suggested. The wording made it clear that yes, they are adults and are ultimately responsible. But also that without me, there IS no problem.

It has also been suggested that as a mother, I fall short.

Am I that fucking bad for everyone? The CONSENSUS says yes. I am.

I have never learned to love myself and I realized today that maybe it’s because there is not a lot to love.

The lesson is clear, give others what they need and stuff the rest down. No one had problems until I started living.

Dear reader who found my site whilst googling, “coitus interruptus gallery,”

Ewwwww.

A gallery. Are you serious?

Also? Ewwwww.

I can only imagine the delight you find in this spoogalicious scene and I wish you all the best of luck.

I, on the other hand, will refrain from adding to your brand of joy by removing any products of coitus interruptus by cloth or shower. Or I will simply angle myself so that my partner gets the brunt of the hit. Sad for him, yay for me and the ability to fall asleep unsplattered.

Sincerely,
Melissa

I hope you all are having a lovely Thanksgiving. I hope that friends and loved ones are spooning a healthy third serving of mashed potatoes onto your plates at this very moment!

***

I am home alone with a head cold while the husband has the children at their Thanksgiving extravaganza.

I am tired, sick, and bored. Dear Internets, with what can you amuse me?

Oh, this: The First Thanksgiving

I hate Scholastic.

Brett just asked me if I liked his friend, Jordan.

I said, “Sure, honey!”

But I don’t.

I do not like Jordan. That kid annoys the living hell out of me. He’s loud, obnoxious, has horrible manners, and he never stops screaming in a fake baby voice.

Yes, that’s right, I hate a ten-year-old kid.

So much is happening over at Casa SH and The Marriage Woes but I am forbidden to speak of it, or at least, I am forbidding myself to speak of it even though I really want to write every last dripping morsel of my thoughts. But I won’t. Because I have some control…not much granted, but I’m eeking out this much.

However, I must share this nugget of goodness with you. Anyone who authors the following is worth reading:

Gasp..clutch the pearls..that asshole hung up on me…somebody will die before sun up.

You Need A Listerine Suppository..

I made my way there and back all happy about my lunch when of course, Belly’s “big girl with a snack” radar went off.

Linka72, of the recently re-named because of your nosy co-worker staring at your screen, STOP LOOKING AT MY SCREEN…NOSY, you make me laugh. Thank you.

Isn’t THIS just a regular tampon?

How is it performing uh, higher, than normal? Does a regular tampon only work so-so but hey, they’ve really made this one absorb menstrual blood. Doesn’t it just do what it’s supposed to in the first place? Didn’t they tell us that we could run, swim, and frolick on the beach with the regular tampons?

Dear regular tampons (Tampax, but I really need to bite the bullet and get chemical-free somethings) and Instead cups…I heart you. You are all the performance I need.

Does anyone take Loestrin? What do you know about it, does it make you crazy and ruin your sex drive? A girl is curious.

This posting is also not about my marriage, but ha…I’m making you think about your vagina. This is maybe post #59 in which I give you nothing. You’re welcome.

My newest post, “A Big Steaming Bowl,” is up at DotMoms.

I wish I could tell all the parents of toddlers that Mr. Picky will change. That one day, there will be a miracle and he will stop refusing the family dinner. Except that this didn’t exactly happen for us. Daniel is 12 and still prefers the same dish he demanded at three.

Hear me?

Vote!

In sum, the marriage is over. Total shit hitting the fan, mud-slinging commencing.

It’s horrible.

Thank you for all your kind comments and some day, hopefully soon, I can send out batches of super chocolate chunk cookies to each of you. Thank you so much.