So to my surprise, I received lots and lots of compliments on my blogs and how I make people smile with my blunt and what I will affectionately call my "smart-assy" tone. So to those who enjoy, thanks for reading and I'm glad I can entertain you. Cause it ain't easy being "Jenni from the Block"...I may not have J Lo's ass, money or talent, but I got the name...somehow I think I got shafted on that one.
Anyway in the midst of going through yet another damn appliance failure within the last 2 weeks in my home I decided to go through a bin of shit that I have of random things I have kept over the years. A "hoarding" bin if you will. In it there are pictures of high school, prom, college, early twenties, my wedding, later twenties, and a notebook full of writings that I used to do just for my own personal outlet. Some I will admit were really good and others could've been written by my goldfish and would've come out better.
Upon reading them I flashed back to the time when I apparently was so into the person or thing I was writing about and dear Lord was I ridiculous. I was all about forever this and that, hearts and stars, yadda yadda bullshit. I have a rule about writing though I never go back and change an original that I write, I always leave it as is and IF it's good enough to expand upon and improve, I'll make a new one based on the same principles.
With that in mind I was reading one in particular that was from an insanely long time ago, I couldn't even place a time on it but it must've been when I was a wee little thing....
If I had to go back to that time or a similar time I would say this:
At this point in my life it's awesome to be young. I have a kick ass body that is in pristine shape. (and in a few years I'm going to pierce it and tattoo it sorry mom) I'm gonna flaunt the hell out of it, but not too much cause then I'd be a hooch. I could really care less of what people think of me because as I continue to grow up only a handful of these people are going to be by my side. So to those bitches sitting over there at the "cool yet anorexic" table giving me that "what are you looking at" look, you can all kiss my ass cause in a few years we will part ways and our paths will probably never cross again. I don't know jack shit about love at this age so I'm not going to cry over it. A boy means less sleep, puffy eyes, more stress and more trouble. When I'm in my twenties I'm going to party like a ROCK STAR so there is no need to worry about the assholes who put the pressure on me to do it now. I should probably start paying a little more attention to my teachers and a little less attention to the boys because a college education is EXPENSIVE and it means a better job. Who I am now is not who I am going to be, and if I don't know exactly what I want to be when I grow up, well that's is absolutely o.k. If these are the best years of my life, things are looking pretty bleak....it's a good thing they aren't :)
We put too much pressure on ourselves growing up. Take the time to enjoy growing up cause being an actual grown up sucks. Taking the "next step" is so exciting, but living in it is hard sometimes. Getting married is AWESOME. Paying for the wedding will put you (or your parents) in debt for YEARS. Having kids is the most AMAZING, WONDERFUL and BEST thing that has ever happened to me. I was born to be a mom. However sleep is a thing of the past, and when you have kids you are no longer you, you are someone's mom first and foremost, and forever. It's amazing but sometimes you find yourself wondering how the hell 24 hours just went by and you completely forgot to feed yourself or go pee. Kids take over and it's challenging and amazing :) Then there is owning a home....and well.... If one more damn appliance in my house breaks ANYTIME soon, y'all best duck and cover cause something will be flying out the effing window. It's a promise.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Saturday, July 27, 2013
8 legged freaks
Sitting at camp this year I realized I have total and COMPLETE arachnophobia. I HATE friggen spiders, and since I am writing this at almost midnight thirty there is no doubt in my mind that one of those little bastards is going to invade my slumber when I finally do fall asleep tonight and give me one hell of a nightmare if he doesn't appear in the flesh so if I piss the bed tonight you all know why. OR if I awake with a spider bite, let it be known that I am predicting it....I am a freaking psychic tonight. I should start a hotline.
I have spotted more of these 8 legged little shits this year than I have in the last 30 years since we have been coming up here, and I have to say I'm about over it. Case in point...I was putting Katie in bed tonight and she was saying how there was a "spider web" in the corner of the room which was really a cob web (it's camp - of course it is) so I got Uncle Johnny to get rid of it cause I ain't touching it and of course he got rid of it and all was well. She went to bed and I came out into the living room and BAM there was a bitching spider right on the ceiling in the living room. John walked right under it, and there was a room full of people in the room and no one saw it. It saw me, I'm telling you it was like looking at me and waiting for me to come out of that room so it could scare the crap out of me.
Of course I got John to kill it cause once again I ain't touching it....So he did, if it wasn't for him I would've turned around the second I got here because these damn things are everywhere. Where do they come from anyway?! One minute all is well, the next BAM there they are. It's ridiculous and terrifying.
I think it's safe to say that one of the most terrifying moment came when I was trying to leave the bathroom (it was only number 1) and a big black spider was "blocking" my exit my crawling over the top of the door. I knew that if I went out he was going to jump on my back or in my hair and I would have flipped out. I screamed for my dad to come in and kill it (which is equally ridiculous cause he's scared to he just doesn't admit it). So after what seemed like an hour the deed was done and I ran out barely escaping with my sanity.
I know every insect serves a purpose but man I can really do without these 8 legged freaks. You know how you freak yourself out when something really bugs you?! I seriously "felt" something was "crawling" on me in bed one night and almost knocked my husband the hell out. I'm telling you phobia's are a bitch and so are spiders.....(shudder)
Well I'm off to bed - wish me luck that there aren't any in my room..
I have spotted more of these 8 legged little shits this year than I have in the last 30 years since we have been coming up here, and I have to say I'm about over it. Case in point...I was putting Katie in bed tonight and she was saying how there was a "spider web" in the corner of the room which was really a cob web (it's camp - of course it is) so I got Uncle Johnny to get rid of it cause I ain't touching it and of course he got rid of it and all was well. She went to bed and I came out into the living room and BAM there was a bitching spider right on the ceiling in the living room. John walked right under it, and there was a room full of people in the room and no one saw it. It saw me, I'm telling you it was like looking at me and waiting for me to come out of that room so it could scare the crap out of me.
Of course I got John to kill it cause once again I ain't touching it....So he did, if it wasn't for him I would've turned around the second I got here because these damn things are everywhere. Where do they come from anyway?! One minute all is well, the next BAM there they are. It's ridiculous and terrifying.
I think it's safe to say that one of the most terrifying moment came when I was trying to leave the bathroom (it was only number 1) and a big black spider was "blocking" my exit my crawling over the top of the door. I knew that if I went out he was going to jump on my back or in my hair and I would have flipped out. I screamed for my dad to come in and kill it (which is equally ridiculous cause he's scared to he just doesn't admit it). So after what seemed like an hour the deed was done and I ran out barely escaping with my sanity.
I know every insect serves a purpose but man I can really do without these 8 legged freaks. You know how you freak yourself out when something really bugs you?! I seriously "felt" something was "crawling" on me in bed one night and almost knocked my husband the hell out. I'm telling you phobia's are a bitch and so are spiders.....(shudder)
Well I'm off to bed - wish me luck that there aren't any in my room..
Thursday, July 11, 2013
It wasn't supposed to be this way
I remember I was laying in the ICU curled up in a fetal position thinking this must be a dream, there is no way this pain is real. No one can possibly survive this much pain. Maybe if I just curled up a little tighter I would wake up. Shit, it's not working. The sweetest nurses on the planet kept coming in to stretch me back out, reminding me that it will get better. Jesus it felt like razors on my skull every time someone touched me. I realize tests must be done but does it require touching? And for the love of all things that are Holy please take the catheter out!
Time went on, days passed I got to move to a regular floor. Nurses weren't anywhere near as nice and I was moving more on my own and pain got worse and worse. When was the pain going to end? Physical therapists kept bugging me to walk. Why did I need to walk? I had brain surgery for Pete's sake nothing was wrong with my feet. I complied but not willingly.
Finally I got to go home. Pain was only getting worse, everything hurt. I couldn't sit, lay down, move my head in any way. It hurt to blink. I remember 7 days post op I got the port taken out that was vacuum sealed with packaging tape on the back of my skull and upper back and it hurt so bad and felt so good at the same to get that tape ripped off. It took skin with it, but no hair cause I only had half a head of it left. I remember seeing blood and then I got to look at the incision for the first time. It was disgusting. It was huge, and open and I could actually see my skull which just creeped me out.
Summer went on and well I don't remember much of that summer, I slept a lot. I cried even more. I ended up in the E.R. more times than I can remember to this day. I suddenly became allergic to everything and nothing seemed to calm the pain. I begged my doctor to help, but there was nothing he could do. He even brought out the BIG book of medicines and there was nothing in it for me. That was a sad day....
I slipped into depression. Every day was a challenge to get through. I thought seriously about giving up but realized the sheer idiocy in that after all I had been through. I had to get through it, I had my children to care for. So I busted my ass to get back to being as much as me as possible. From June 15, 2012 until September something or other 2012 I did my best and got myself well enough with a shitload of support from friends and family and got back to work, back to being there for my kids, back to my life as much as possible.
Then it hit again, surgery #2 the back. I couldn't move, walking was damn near impossible, sitting was ridiculous and forget sleeping. I became miserable, irritable and just a down right bitch. Back to my dr. I went and it was decided that the only option was to do a fusion. Apparently my spine deteriorated too fast over the course of my brain surgery and there was just nothing more to do but surgery so on January 29, 2013 it was back on the operating table. It was a long surgery and the Dr. had to pull my spine back into place, lift it up, fuse the bones back together, put a cage in place and screw it all together with rods and bolts...sounds fun right?
This one I woke up pining for the brain surgery. I would never have imagined I would long for that day, but I did. I couldn't move, I couldn't breath, I couldn't cry without my whole body shaking in unimaginable pain. I couldn't take pain meds because I was allergic to all of it thanks to the brain surgery.
I was sure I was going to pass out from the pain. I laid there wondering why the hell I did this to myself again. I wanted to pass out and not wake up for a while so I wouldn't have to handle the pain.
A few days passed and all I did was sob. I can only remember the pain. The pain was unbearable. I kept thinking NEVER AGAIN. I kept reminding myself this is it, after I'm done healing I don't have to do this shit ever again, I will be all better and everything will be good. I'll have my 29 year old body back and it'll be good. Yeah, or not.
It's been 7 months. I still can't walk for more than a few minutes without having to stop. I can't lay down, sit down, or generally move without pain. My whole life has been turned upside down. All these surgeries and "bad days that were supposed to get better" just keep piling up. I'm so over it, I can't stand it.
Today I went to the Dr. and I looked him square in the eyes and asked why am I still hurting, why am I still like this. The answer....this is as good as I am going to get. I can't play with my kids the way they deserve. I can't run, I can't swim, I can never again go on an amusement park ride, I will always have pain, I will always have migraines, I will always be like this unless some miracle comes along.
I know people say don't give up. Well people I am grateful for all those thoughts and prayers and positive reinforcement but for those who do not know all I have been through (and most of you do not nor do I have hours to attempt to explain it, and no one really wants to hear it) I have simply given up on optimism.
All of the pain and suffering was somehow supposed to make me stronger and help me in some way. Sure the surgeries "fixed" the physical ailments that made my body functionally correct. But my symptoms will never go away, I will always have to be medicated, and I will always have some sort of debilitation.
I am 29. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I am not normally a self-pitying person, but today when I was given the "I'm sorry I couldn't fix you" speech from one of the top neurosurgeons in my area it hit me that this really is just the way it is. I then had to go and turn in my badge to my now former employer because I lost my job due to these surgeries that were supposed to "fix" me. I knew I wasn't going to be able to go back there but I guess there was always a glimmer of hope in the back of my mind.
On the other side of things there are people far worse off than I am and for many reasons I am thankful. I have healthy happy children, a loving husband, amazing family and friends and I love all of these people dearly. As long as I have them I am good. I really should just suck it up and deal with it all the other shit cause there really isn't anything I can do about it. But tonight is just one of those nights that I am feeling really down about it.
Once upon a time not too long ago I was told to say good-bye to my family because I was not going to make it through the day, and I did. So in many ways I am thankful, humble, and stronger. However due to all the things I have been through I am also depressed, worn-out, and angry.
We're taught as children that you grow up, get married, have babies, live in a dream house, have lots of money and live happily ever after. I must've missed the part when they told you about all the other shit that happens.
I don't really have much purpose for writing this other than to vent and get it off my chest. Thanks for reading and my apologies for the pity-party. I usually have these in private. However sometimes there is just a need to party with others
Time went on, days passed I got to move to a regular floor. Nurses weren't anywhere near as nice and I was moving more on my own and pain got worse and worse. When was the pain going to end? Physical therapists kept bugging me to walk. Why did I need to walk? I had brain surgery for Pete's sake nothing was wrong with my feet. I complied but not willingly.
Finally I got to go home. Pain was only getting worse, everything hurt. I couldn't sit, lay down, move my head in any way. It hurt to blink. I remember 7 days post op I got the port taken out that was vacuum sealed with packaging tape on the back of my skull and upper back and it hurt so bad and felt so good at the same to get that tape ripped off. It took skin with it, but no hair cause I only had half a head of it left. I remember seeing blood and then I got to look at the incision for the first time. It was disgusting. It was huge, and open and I could actually see my skull which just creeped me out.
Summer went on and well I don't remember much of that summer, I slept a lot. I cried even more. I ended up in the E.R. more times than I can remember to this day. I suddenly became allergic to everything and nothing seemed to calm the pain. I begged my doctor to help, but there was nothing he could do. He even brought out the BIG book of medicines and there was nothing in it for me. That was a sad day....
I slipped into depression. Every day was a challenge to get through. I thought seriously about giving up but realized the sheer idiocy in that after all I had been through. I had to get through it, I had my children to care for. So I busted my ass to get back to being as much as me as possible. From June 15, 2012 until September something or other 2012 I did my best and got myself well enough with a shitload of support from friends and family and got back to work, back to being there for my kids, back to my life as much as possible.
Then it hit again, surgery #2 the back. I couldn't move, walking was damn near impossible, sitting was ridiculous and forget sleeping. I became miserable, irritable and just a down right bitch. Back to my dr. I went and it was decided that the only option was to do a fusion. Apparently my spine deteriorated too fast over the course of my brain surgery and there was just nothing more to do but surgery so on January 29, 2013 it was back on the operating table. It was a long surgery and the Dr. had to pull my spine back into place, lift it up, fuse the bones back together, put a cage in place and screw it all together with rods and bolts...sounds fun right?
This one I woke up pining for the brain surgery. I would never have imagined I would long for that day, but I did. I couldn't move, I couldn't breath, I couldn't cry without my whole body shaking in unimaginable pain. I couldn't take pain meds because I was allergic to all of it thanks to the brain surgery.
I was sure I was going to pass out from the pain. I laid there wondering why the hell I did this to myself again. I wanted to pass out and not wake up for a while so I wouldn't have to handle the pain.
A few days passed and all I did was sob. I can only remember the pain. The pain was unbearable. I kept thinking NEVER AGAIN. I kept reminding myself this is it, after I'm done healing I don't have to do this shit ever again, I will be all better and everything will be good. I'll have my 29 year old body back and it'll be good. Yeah, or not.
It's been 7 months. I still can't walk for more than a few minutes without having to stop. I can't lay down, sit down, or generally move without pain. My whole life has been turned upside down. All these surgeries and "bad days that were supposed to get better" just keep piling up. I'm so over it, I can't stand it.
Today I went to the Dr. and I looked him square in the eyes and asked why am I still hurting, why am I still like this. The answer....this is as good as I am going to get. I can't play with my kids the way they deserve. I can't run, I can't swim, I can never again go on an amusement park ride, I will always have pain, I will always have migraines, I will always be like this unless some miracle comes along.
I know people say don't give up. Well people I am grateful for all those thoughts and prayers and positive reinforcement but for those who do not know all I have been through (and most of you do not nor do I have hours to attempt to explain it, and no one really wants to hear it) I have simply given up on optimism.
All of the pain and suffering was somehow supposed to make me stronger and help me in some way. Sure the surgeries "fixed" the physical ailments that made my body functionally correct. But my symptoms will never go away, I will always have to be medicated, and I will always have some sort of debilitation.
I am 29. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I am not normally a self-pitying person, but today when I was given the "I'm sorry I couldn't fix you" speech from one of the top neurosurgeons in my area it hit me that this really is just the way it is. I then had to go and turn in my badge to my now former employer because I lost my job due to these surgeries that were supposed to "fix" me. I knew I wasn't going to be able to go back there but I guess there was always a glimmer of hope in the back of my mind.
On the other side of things there are people far worse off than I am and for many reasons I am thankful. I have healthy happy children, a loving husband, amazing family and friends and I love all of these people dearly. As long as I have them I am good. I really should just suck it up and deal with it all the other shit cause there really isn't anything I can do about it. But tonight is just one of those nights that I am feeling really down about it.
Once upon a time not too long ago I was told to say good-bye to my family because I was not going to make it through the day, and I did. So in many ways I am thankful, humble, and stronger. However due to all the things I have been through I am also depressed, worn-out, and angry.
We're taught as children that you grow up, get married, have babies, live in a dream house, have lots of money and live happily ever after. I must've missed the part when they told you about all the other shit that happens.
I don't really have much purpose for writing this other than to vent and get it off my chest. Thanks for reading and my apologies for the pity-party. I usually have these in private. However sometimes there is just a need to party with others
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