Category Archives: Incessant Whining

Mar 15 25 comments
Blog, Incessant Whining, Personal

Let the Sun Shine In (Before I Bite Someone’s Head Off)!

Hi! I’m happy! How are you?

Ha…I know. That kind of intro to a post just makes me sound crazy. Pretty soon I’ll be handing out flowers at the airport in a melon colored sari. And right now? That doesn’t sound half bad because the clouds have parted and the SUN IS SHINING! For a change.

You see, for months now, I’ve been on this rollercoaster of mood swings. I think it’s commonly referred to as PMS except mine is more like Pre-Menstrual Life Force-Sucking Demon from Hell…or PMLFSDH. And I do NOT exaggerate.

You menfolk might just want to check out now since I’ll be talking about lady things like OVULATION and PERIOD and BLOOD. Although a real man would stay. And leave a supportive comment. Or at least tell me I’m pretty.

Okay, for those that are still playing along at home… It starts around ovulation—my sex drive escalates because mother nature is a whore that wants to knock me up AGAIN. I mean really, the time you’re most fertile and likely to conceive should be the time you LEAST want to get busy but nooooo… Propagation of the species blah blah blah. WHATEVER. Like we NEED more oxygen-hogging PEOPLE on the planet…

So anyway, after the three day window of IREALLYWANTSEX closes, the PMLFSDH starts to kick in. I become irritable. And hungry. And anti-social. And anxious. And SO SO SO tired. Like the “my whole body aches with tired” kind of tired and I nap every morning as soon as everyone leaves. And I have ZERO motivation to do ANYTHING. And I don’t answer the phone. And I get sad. And melancholic. And I feel persecuted. And I’m positive everyone hates me. And I break out like a 14 year old boy. And the mood-elevating drugs are a FAIL. And did I mention being irritable?

And this shit goes on for TEN TO TWELVE MISERABLE DAYS in which I pray every second for my period to come—I literally sit there staring at the white toilet paper willing a hint of pink to magically appear on it because I just want the PMLFSDH to STOP. I mean, really,  who prays for their period anymore? That’s so high school. And college. And first six years of marriage…

But then I wake one day, like I did this past Thursday, and I’m happyish. I don’t hate the world. And I don’t want to bite the heads off of live humans anymore. Not even a little.

I know without even looking that my period has arrived.

I can answer the phone again. And make plans with people. And do stuff like clean the house and plan meals and spend honest-to-God quality time with my kids and feel warm and fuzzy about life and I’m so happy to feel happy that I become giddy. And I make jokes. And I don’t want to eat big bowls of butter and sugar. Or a pound of bacon. And I feel like exercising again.

And everyone breathes a sigh of relief because that awful woman is gone and the awesome, fun, patient one is back.

But I know it won’t last and I find myself mentally calculating the number of good days I have left until the huge black clouds comes back and take their preferred spot right over my head and the cycle starts all over again.

So, if you know me and I suddenly check out, nowhere to be found…or I snap at you…or criticize you mercilessly…or eye your food like I’ve been starving for months…or don’t do ANY of the stuff I said I would do etc etc etc?

Well, now you know why. Just go away and leave me the hell alone.

If I’m not completely embarrassed by something I did or said, I promise I’ll call you when I get my period.

Feb 23 30 comments
Blog, Character Flaws, Incessant Whining, Personal

Always with the Guilt…

I’m not an anxious person by nature. I mean I do worry about things but I don’t SUFFER from anxiety naturally. It’s actually a side effect of my antidepressant which…I’m pretty sure I can’t live without. So. I just deal with the unfortunate side effect of random anxiety.

It doesn’t come every day. In fact most days I don’t have it at all. But when I do, it’s horrible. Today is one of those days. It made me think I had an upset stomach at first. But then the guilt started creeping up on me and that’s when I realized that this horribly unsettled feeling I have is the anxiety monster. Again.

The guilt, always with the guilt… It overwhelms me and I feel so awful. I don’t know what to do with myself.

All I can think about is lost time and missed opportunities and things that will never be again and I just want to cry except I can’t because my kids are here and it would upset them. And considering that every ounce of guilt in my pounding heart is about my failings as a mother, the last thing I want to do is upset my kids.

Why? WHY do I dwell on these things? My rational self knows it’s just the anxiety talking and it also knows that regret is a useless emotion, that what’s done is done. Nonetheless, all I can do is think about how my kids aren’t babies anymore and all the times I didn’t play dolls with my daughter (because I really hate playing dolls) and how now she likes to go in her room and read or draw. With the door closed. And it’s like a sign to my crazy anxious heart that she is slipping away from me and I want to cry for all the times I missed playing with the little girl that she is no more. And I know it’s absurd. I know I have done plenty of memorable, wonderful things with her but I can’t think about that. All I can think about are the reasons I should feel horrible; all the ways in which I’ve failed.

My son is 4 now and while I feel so shitty and anxious that I just want to roll up in a little ball and sleep forever, that I WANT to do that is just one more example of how I am failing him. Why am I not outside with him. Why are we in the house? And then I think of all the reasons we’re not outside and goddammit. I’m just full of excuses, aren’t I? So I pledge that tomorrow will be different even though I’m pretty sure it won’t be. I know myself. And I fail again.

So I give in and I take the Xanax. I never want to but it works and soon all of this will seem silly and maybe even comical—but you know what? I’m going to publish it anyway. Because this is the truth.

Dec 11 27 comments
Blog, Incessant Whining, Jackassery, LOL

Dear Craigslist People

Dear Craigslist People,

I know you turn to Craigslist to find a bargain (unless you’re one of those jackasses that posts nekkid pix of yourself from your Grandma’s bathroom…the crocheted poodle toilet paper cover is a dead giveaway, just in case you were wondering how I knew you were at your Grandma’s house perving it up in her bathroom. Also, FYI, pictures taken in your nasty bedroom with the Whitesnake poster on the wall OR a Spongebob blanky anywhere in sight? NOT HOT )

Anyway, I know you folks want to save a few bucks so you look around on Craigslist but seriously, you need to KNOW a few things…

If I’m selling 60 pieces of name-brand girls clothing, all in excellent condition and I’m only asking $20, which, for the math-impaired, is 33¢ an item, I’m NOT taking pictures of every single item and I’m NOT going to answer stupid questions about every item and I’m NOT going to sell it to you for five freaking dollars—especially when I know your cheap, sorry ass is probably going to turn around and sell it on eBay anyway. Which is fine. I hate eBay so better you than me. But I’d give it to Goodwill before I’d let you have it for that—go buy it from them. I mean really…have you NO shame? I’d be embarrassed to ask people to give me a SEVENTY FIVE PERCENT price break…

The same goes for the Little Tikes Craftsmen Tool Bench. Dude…it’s in mint condition and I’m asking twenty dollars for it. Do NOT send me an email asking if I’ll take five for it.  Is there anything in my listing that says this is “Let’s Make a Really Bad (for me) Deal?” If you seriously can’t afford more than five bucks, maybe you should SELL YOUR COMPUTER (I’ll give you five bucks for it) and get rid of your internet service instead of lowballing people on Craigslist all day long.

And finally, for all you asswipes that bug the living crap out of me and beg me to not sell my stuff to someone else and then don’t show up… I wish you a scorching case of herpes with a nice sprinkling of genital warts. I mean you clearly have a phone, since you called me 17 times to make sure I hadn’t sold the item(s) you so desperately wanted. How about picking up said phone and letting me know you won’t be coming? I might even be nice and understanding and NOT wish you a lifetime of oozing blisters and weird bumpy things on your nether regions. But if you offer me five dollars? All bets are off.

As ever,
IzzyMom

Sep 17 25 comments
Blog, Incessant Whining, Personal

Attitude is Everything!!!

When I woke up this morning with my head throbbing, husband grousing around and my children carrying on about one thing or another…I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. I feel like that a lot lately, as noted in a previous post. I think my exact thought this morning was that every day lately my life feels like it’s imploding “to collapse inward as if from external pressure.” I don’t know if it’s me, like my perception is skewed and nothing is really as bad as it seems, or if it’s exactly as it seems and I’ve just reached my saturation point.

I actually said this morning, in a moment of extreme fed-upness, and in my husband’s general direction,  “I can’t stand you people anymore. One day I’m going to run away and never come back.” Nice. That mother-of-the-year award I was coveting is definitely a pipe dream now.

It’s not that every second of every day is awful. It’s not. In between the impatience and outbursts and complaints, there is love and laughter and fun. But if I had to sum it all up…it’s still pretty sucktastic. I’ve totally been phoning it in with the kids being back in school. PTA membership papers sit on my desk ignored. Girl Scout event emails calling for parent volunteers make me want to run and hide. It’s all I can do to get up and get the kids off to school. Everything that’s not mission critical just keeps getting backburnered. How long can you do that, exactly?

I just…don’t feel like I have both feet on the ground. I feel tethered by a very, very thin thread and I’m up there just blowing around in the wind…waiting for something to pull me back down. I’m not depressed, per se. But it’s something.

Every day is the saaaaaame. My husband is always in a bad mood and I’m overwhelmed. I never get enough done. I’m always ten steps behind everyone else and playing catch up…just trying to get through the day so I can lather, rinse and repeat the next day.

Again, I have to ask…is it just me? Am I seeing things through a warped lens? Could I shake this off if I really wanted to?

Whilst lamenting to my BFF this morning about my husband, who has been PMSing for about a year straight, she brought up something I haven’t thought about in a very long time—the law of attraction. Basically, you attract what you put out there. She was talking about how it can be difficult to get yourself out of a funk because you’re feeling so negative and thus, attracting more of it to you.

We were actually talking about my husband but in that moment, I started thinking of myself and wondering if I was the architect of my own misery. In my head I envisioned one of those photocopied flyers that an old boss had tacked up in her wood-paneled office. It said “Attitude is everything!” and proceeded to tell you all the ways in which a bad attitude will defeat you.

Shit. My attitude SUCKS, I thought. But then I countered that with “How can you have a good attitude when you’re surrounded by people who are perpetually dissatisfied? SOMEONE is always unhappy and we’re never all happy at the same time. We’re so…out of sync. And I don’t know how to fix that, even with the world’s bestest attitude.

Sep 13 22 comments
Blog, Incessant Whining, Personal

Would You Like Some Cheese With My Whine?

I hate whining. I really do.

I don’t, however, hate it enough to NOT do it.

Really, the fact is…I just don’t want to hear anyone else whine. Not you. Not my kids. None of ya. But since this is my blog, I’m going to be a wee bit of a hypocrite and whine just a little. Think of it as venting (but with more patheticness…).

You  see, I’ve had a this atrocious headache for days, possibly weeks. After enough coffee, Aleve and Canadian aspirin (the good kind), I can sometimes make it go away but every morning, I wake up and it’s back again like a bad penny. Fricken headache…ruiner of all things good and fun.

I also woke up this morning with not only a headache but a wet desk chair. I’m all “Did someone pee on my chair???” but I got denials all the way around, which is good because if anyone actually DID pee in my chair, like my husband, for example, that would be messed up.

When nobody would cop to peeing in my chair or spilling anything on it, I, for some reason, looked upward and there it was…the wet spot. On the ceiling. Which means???? Our roof has a leak.

I always knew this day would come (we were told six years ago that our roof had about 4-5 years to live) but did I ever do anything about it? Did I ever even attempt to act like a responsible adult and be pro-active? Hell no. I just waited for this day and then got to spend a good hour trying to find a roofer that would call me back on a Saturday—a RAINY Saturday. And now? We will have to pull thousands of dollars out of our asses (because that’s where irresponsible adults keep their money) and put a new roof on this fricken shoebox—which leads me to my next gripe…

I told my husband this morning that if he doesn’t figure out a way to give me a damn bedroom, I’m divorcing him—we’ve been sleeping in our office since shortly after my son was born. His crib was in our room and he was such a light sleeper that co-sleeping never worked and when we would sleep in our bed with him in his crib, he would hear every noise and wake up all night long.

We eventually moved into our office, which IS a room, but it’s in the middle of everything—no door, no privacy, no quiet in the morning. It sucks. This morning, I tried to shoo my kids back to their rooms because my head was pounding so they went in what is now my son’s room and started rifling through my dresser drawers. The top drawer is just full of my junk, not clothes, and they dug all through it and came out with all kinds of stuff and it just pissed me off. I have NO space of my own at all and I’m completely over it.

I want to move but since our house lost FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS of value this past year, according to our illustrious county appraiser, we couldn’t sell it for what we owe on it and even if we could, we’d walk away with NOTHING. I haven’t even told my husband about this yet because I know he’ll freak.

Also? We’re getting new neighbors. The house next door has been a rental for the past two years and we’ve had a steady stream of shitty, douchey neighbors. I have NO reason to believe the new ones will be any different.

I don’t like this house, I don’t like that there are no kids in our neighborhood, I don’t like that we have to put a new roof on a house I don’t like, I don’t like that we’re getting new douchebag neighbors, I don’t like that our tree died, I don’t like that there is SO much to be done but it’s too damn hot to do anything outside and I don’t like having these headaches because I have to work thrice as hard to get anything done. I can’t even blog everyday for Nablopomo because I can’t think straight when my head is pounding. Oh, who am I kidding… I also have major writers block. I’ve had it for ages. I get inspiration when I don’t have time and then I forget it when I do have time. Or when I do have time, I’d rather sleep. Thisssssucks.

But please, for the love of all things good and decent, don’t tell me I need to exercise. I know I need to exercise but it’s impossible when you have headache that gets worse when you stand up. Or bend down. Or exert yourself in any way. Tension headaches and exercise are not friends. They despise each other. Also, don’t tell me to think positively. Or take more vitamins. Please.

And dear husband, if you’re reading this, please forgive me for saying this in such a public way…but your constant bad mood and Man PMS is really wearing on me. I TRY to understand but I’m over it. Life is hard. Life isn’t always fun. Life is challenging. I get all that. I’m not exactly thrilled either, as evidenced by my ranty whinefest, BUT I don’t make everyone else suffer for my unhappiness. Figure out what you want from life and go after it. Figure out what will make you happy and pursue it. I may be unhappy with certain things right now but I’m still an optimist. I still have hope that life will get better. I wish you would, too. I love you—now chin up!

I can feel the tension run from my head to my neck,  into my shoulders and down my back so I’m going to my chiropractor on Tuesday and then I’m going to beg my massage therapist to see me right after. If that doesn’t work, there’s always the gun method—it’s damn near impossible to have a headache when you don’t have a head. Heh.

Sep 04 22 comments
Blog, Incessant Whining

Happy Birthday

My 24 hours of special treatment from my family is almost over…another birthday nearly behind me.

If I were a pessimist, I’d say “Ohhhh, another birthday, another year closer to death” but I make a point not to think of stuff like that. I cannot, however, lie and say I haven’t spent a few moments lamenting the fact that I’m officially middle-age.

The hardest part of all to face is the fact that while I AM young and vibrant in the grand scheme of things, my youth, per se, is gone forever. Equally painful? I didn’t appreciate it when I had it.

George Bernard Shaw once said “Youth is wasted on the young.”  I daresay he was on to something…

Happy 29th birthday to me…again ;)

(Edited to add:  I fear my joke about being 29 again has flopped. I’m not 29, folks. I just wish I was.)

Aug 11 38 comments
Blog, Commentary, Incessant Whining, Jackassery

Thanks for Nothing, Big Corporate Robber Barons

Okay, I finally got up the nerve to make the appointment for Asscam 09 (tomorrow & I’m terrified) only to find out that since it’s a diagnostic asscam instead of a screening asscam, it’s going to cost me a $300 copay because, inexplicably, it’s considered an outpatient SURGERY.

Seriously?

The woman from the insurance company says it’s because they invade your body. Well, if that’s the case, those transvaginal ultrasounds they give you when you’re pregnant should be considered surgery, too. I’m sorry but I consider having a big old phallic-shaped device poking me in my lady bits to also be pretty damned invasive (and not nearly as *fun* as it sounds).

My complaint in a nutshell? We have the VERY BEST plan offered by my husband’s employer and we pay a small fortune the equivalent of our mortgage payment for it every month and they won’t cover a freaking colonoscopy 100%?

Frankly, that alone is reason for me to reconsider having it done, although I’m sure that’s EXACTLY what my insurance company is hoping for because if I don’t get it done, then they won’t have to pay for ANYTHING. I guess it’s never occurred to them that an asscam is a hell of a lot cheaper than treatment for advanced colon cancer or some other horrid potential diagnosis down the road. To hell with all that fancy, highfalutin’ logical thinking…

Health care reform of some kind CANNOT come soon enough, IMO.

—

If you have kids and have ever posted a pic of them on your blog or on Flickr, you should really read this post because…well, because I said so. And because really, who wants pix of their kids labeled with porn tags by a search engine?