I just googled myself...

...(I can't help but laugh at that phrase)...and I proudly discovered my blog.

Not that my blog was missing or anything terrible like that. No phone call to the police, no missing persons report. Nothing that drastic.

But it is a big step for me, to make my blog search-able.

For I am terrified of that great big open expanse know as the WorldWideWeb.

So many people to accost you. Without your permission. Or knowledge.

But it is one of the ways I am attempting to relinquish control. Control over my own little world. Control over how much people know about me. How much they get inside my brain. And heaven forbid, what they think of me.

A big step, to be sure.

I am google-able.

Just for good measure, I didn't google my name or something that specific. I googled the title of one of my blogs.

(Traumatophobia)

Which yielded lots of results since it is a REAL WORD. (Although I got lots of crap for it.)

And just so you know, I am on page 22.

Which is good. Because it means I am not making that word up since there are pages and pages dedicated to its definition. But it also means that I am not completely obscure since there are pages and pages after me.

A good, solid middle number. Like a good solid middle child. Appropriate for a good solid mid 20's woman.

Ok so maybe I am not relinquishing that much control. Not like I can't announce my age to the entire world. I just don't want to.

27.

See? I am relinquishing control. WhooHoo!

Medicating the cats

I bear many a battle wound

from the process of forcing

various forms of medication

down the unwilling throats of our two fluffy kittens.

I figured if I added the word fluffy it wouldn't make them sound so evil

After Wednesday nights round left me bleeding

(again)

Scotland came up with a new idea.

This is what it looked like.

Trixy just barely visible through the

wrist opening of an old long sleeved dress shirt

Trixy, unhappily straining at the seams,

watching the medication paste that is being prepared for her

Sugar, post medication,

getting soothing words from papa,

while emitting a "let me out" sort of look to me

Do you think this would work with children too?

Totally kidding.

Don't call child protective services on me...

Or PETA either...

Ya caught me...

Somedays











You need doughnuts to survive.







This one was particularly tasty...







Courtesy of Bakers Dozen in Idaho Falls.







Directions here.







Photo by yours truly.

Traumatophobia

Medical Dictionary Main Entry: trau·ma·to·pho·bia

Pronunciation: "tro-maat-aa-'fO-bE-aa"

"traumatophobia: noun: excessive or disabling fear of physical injury usually resulting from experiences in hunting with one or more overconfident individuals operating vehicles in an unsafe manner."

Huh. Yeah that fits...

Makes me think of sliding backwards at 25 mph down a snowy backcountry hill with your so called "4 wheel drive truck" with your so called "snow tires". Toward a tree.

Also makes me think of five minutes before that happened when I suggested chaining up those so called "snow tires" and was laughed at.

Medical Dictionary Main Entry: accu·satri·bardo·pho·bia

Pronunciation: Akü-sAt-r@-bar-do-'fO-bE-aa"

"accusatribardophobia: noun: excessive or disabling fear of being told you are incompetent by a woman typically used in reference to one who has numerous experiences with faulty decision making in unsafe situations."

Huh. Yeah that sounds about right too...

*giggle*

And the women were sobbin' sobbin' sobbin' fit to be tied...

Scotland got home from Kentucky last night at about 3:30 in the morning. I woke up and threw my arms around him, and then started crying uncontrollably. Poor guy, he couldn't figure out what was wrong!

But there was nothing wrong. I was just happy he was back home.

Women as a species have the reputation for crying. They cry when something is bad, they cry when something is good. They cry over books and movies, children and elderly, home, family, and work.

Or at least, this is the consensus.

Searching the recesses of my mind, I don't believe I know a woman that doesn't cry at all. And that being said, the male species should be used to it by now. But really, what man deals well with a crying female?

Not very many!

Last night as I was enjoying dinner with my dear friend Kerrie, the topic of our conversation progressed to marriage, and she mentioned how her husband hates it when she cries. Like, for any reason. He hates it.

And I kind of feel bad for her because of that. Sometimes, we just need to cry and it doesn't make it any easier if we get flack about it. I think that it even sort of hinders intimacy with a spouse because if you can't open up and cry around him, who can you cry around?

I went to a play while I was down in Pocatello this weekend and when then ending scene rolled around, while Maria is crying over the body of her beloved Tony, the guy in the row in front of me started shifting uncomfortably in his seat and looking around for an escape route. Over an actress crying in a freaking play!

And I can't tell you the number of times I have heard the expression "Oh for crying out loud" when someone gets irritated. What does that even mean?

Sometimes, it makes me feel better to cry. Sometimes I get so bottled up and that is the only release that lets me down safely. Why does it have to be bad? Why does it make other people uncomfortable?

I know why I get uncomfortable. Because other people crying makes me feel like I am going to start crying. And then I will make someone else uncomfortable.

A vicious circle.

But I don't suppose everyone is like that. I suppose some people feel helpless to "fix" the problem (whatever it is that is making someone cry) and that bothers them.

But whatever it is, I have learned to accept it. I no longer suppress my desire to cry, but I also attempt to leave others out of it. I recognize that it is an entirely personal thing to do, and I don't think that I have the same view of it as I did before. It is not a weakness, it is simply an expression of emotion; whether it be good, bad or ugly.

And last night as the tears were pouring down my face and I was sniffling and sobbing, I remembered that. And he just held me in his arms and smiled down at my tear-stained face. And I just kept crying.

And I am ok with it now. And thankfully, so is he.

Memoir: Friday the 13th

On my way to work this morning, it occurred to me that today is Friday the 13th.

I had to chuckle to myself.

You see, after the trip down to Utah midway through this week and seeing/talking to the women I went through the trauma/drama of high school with, I have been thinking about those days and the experiences we had together. Every now and then I have been known to take those memories out of my pocket and shuffle through them. I remember goofing off at lunch with the girls, classes and boys, first dates, first kisses, dances and plays. And the memory I pulled out this morning? Our Friday the 13th parties.

But when I tell people about memories that I have of those times, I am not sad. I don't wish for those times back, and I don't dream of reliving them again. I was happy then, yes. But I am also happy now. I know that every experience has changed or molded me in some way, and I am grateful for that, but I am not that person anymore.

I can remember them though. Without longing for the past, I can think of the silly things we did, the fun we had and the trouble we inevitably got into. I can shuffle through those memories, and when I am done, put them back in my pocket and continue on with the current. It does not hold me back, it does not make me sad.

That is who I was, just like I am now who I am,
and don't know who I will become.
(read it again, it makes sense, I promise!)

Baby's got the blues

Help! I'm drowning and I can't wake up!

I had one of those drowning dreams last night. Struggling in the sheets, flailing arms, and the feeling of suffocation. I remember having the thought that I was probably dreaming, but I couldn't force myself to wake up.

Real life is forcing me into that pattern also. I can't break the surface of anything I want to get done. I am barely doing enough to survive, and yet it is taking every ounce of energy that I have.

Ugh.