blah, blah, blah

•January 27, 2009 • 11 Comments

I have so many thoughts swirling in my addled brain, things I’ve been wanting to clarify, things that I cant even begin to get a handle on, things I cant write because I don’t want my husband to read them.

First of all, if ezk manages to find me and send the police to my door, there wouldn’t find me all fucked up with my kids watching cartoons while we all share a bag of cheetos and wipe our orange fingers on our pants. They wouldn’t notice if I‘ve smoked because I always use visine,listerine and a spray from a sixteen year old bottle of some kind of misty stuff. (seriously my best friend gave it to me when I graduated from college-unbelievable). If I’m downstairs I might use some hairspray.

Anywayyy, the amount of pot they might find in my house varies from a speck so small that I cant even find it because it has fallen out of the one-hitter. Or i might have enough to fill about half of one side of a contact lens container. Seriously we are talking about laughable amounts of weed here.

But that sounds like such bullshit even as I write it. I mean, it is true but that doesn’t change the fact that my whole addictive process starts over again any time I get my hands on even a minute amount of weed. Sometimes it can a take a month or so. Or it can be compressed into two days. High is high.

So in a way, Natalie is right when she says that the problem may not be the pot but how hard I am on myself about it. I like to think that is true. It is part of the problem. The rest of the problem I think is that I am flat out addicted to pot. When I have it.

I don’t always have it. In recent years during non-pregnant times, maybe half of the time I have pot, maybe 1/3 of the time. It’s hard to say.

When I don’t have it, I am NOT always thinking about getting it. I wrote that in an earlier post and looking back at that statement, it isn’t always true. The following is true: When I have it, I am pretty much always thinking about when I will smoke it. That goes on until I run out or throw it out. I’ve thrown out pot plenty of times. I’ve thrown it in a lake one time, off a balcony twice, in the sink, in the toilet, out a window. I do give myself some credit, at times like those, for just saying no more.

I haven’t thrown any out lately however. When I need a little break from the struggle, I have rocketman hide it from me. Crazy, isn’t it? Is that textbook enabling or what? But it’s not his fault. He just wants me to be happy.

Back to having weed. When I first get some I feel such a sense of freedom. Like I will have the freedom to control my feelings and moods. Like I can relieve stress, boredom, anxiety, exhaustion, hopelessness. It never lasts. The feeling of freedom is quickly replaced by feeling controlled, powerless, ashamed, humiliated. Smoking makes that go away. Temporarily.

Eventually I run out. Eventually might be two months or two days. When I run out or toss it out, then I feel real freedom. To live my life again. And I don’t think much about pot for while. Maybe a week. Maybe a month. It depends.

Then I get back around to wanting some weed again. That’s where I am today.

**I came back later to change this post but decided to leave it as is and just add some thoughts. That part about how the cops wouldnt find me stoned with my kids watching cartoons and eating cheetos? What a load of bullshit. I mean, it’s true but what the fuck was the point of that sanctimonious crap? To make myself feel better that my kids don’t even watch cartoons or TV at all really except on Sunday mornings.

“There, I did it again with the high and mighty crap. What the fuck?”

“Here it is, THIS is what I am trying to say: taking care of three kids is a lot harder when you don’t park them in front of a TV or a computer or video game.”

‘So let me get this straight. I am to be commended for not letting my kids watch TV??!! Never mind that I am HIGH while they are outside digging for “Indian clay.”’

Sometimes I seriously wonder if I have multiple personalities.

What I was trying to convey is what things look like in my house. My kids aren’t being neglected unless of course it’s benign neglect and that’s a whole different issue. I don’t act or appear stoned. I don’t think any of my neighbors have a clue when I am high. I’ve had friends over who I don’t think have any idea that I’ve had a toke. It’s not an outwardly extreme situation going on here. I have two Master’s degrees for chrissake. Not that any of that makes it right. Not at all.

Maybe I am trying to convince myself that it’s not such a big deal to have a toke while my kids are at home.

Why anybody would want to read this crap is beyond me. I reread and think this is such drivel. Is that a real word? Guess I am trying to work shit out here. Out loud, unfortunately for you people. But clearly you don’t have to be reading this. Some of you are just rubbernecking in cyberspace, I guess. I know, some of you actually care about me.

Ugh. Now do you have a sense of why I smoke weed? So I can TURN IT OFF. With one puff I can turn off the chatter, the blathering, the criticism, the second-guessing, the hypothesizing, the rationalizing, the catastrophizing, the negafuckingtivity. It never, ever stops. Except.

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got my first hater

•January 22, 2009 • 6 Comments

actually ezk (see comment under my last post if you want to know what the f*ck i am talking about) isnt my first hater. i am my first hater. i doubt that she or he or anyone could say anything to me that is as bad as the things that i think to myself. not that i am encouraging people to try. fact is i am ruthlessly critical of myself. Much of it is well-deserved. Seems like beating the living shit out of myself is what fuels my addiction. At least that’s part of it.

Just to be clear, my husband does know that I sometimes get high when I am home with the kids. I think he probably tells himself that I only take one hit (which is generally true but who am I f*ucking kidding, high is high) or that I don’t drive ever (which is true of course) or that if he were home with three kids 24/7 he might want to be on something too. He rationalizes and justifies and denies the severity of the problem I am sure. He is a classic enabler. Fully sucked into the bullshit.

Its weird writing this today because today is such a better day than yesterday. Yesterday and the day before and I guess probably the day before I really wanted to get my hands on some pot. I haven’t had any for a few weeks. I emailed a few people, which was f*cking pathetic on my part. That made me feel pretty desperate. Or maybe it was feeling desperate that made me do it. But I was unsuccessful fortunately. Yesterday I scraped a tiny leftover speck out of my bong and hit that. It got me a little high. High enough to feel shitty. That’s the really f*cked up thing is that most of the time I don’t even feel good or better after I smoke. I sometimes feel more anxious or self-conscious. But I feel DIFFERENT. And that is enough I guess.

Today is a better day. I am not thinking about pot very much today. I went out to dinner with some girlfriends last night and came home feeling deflated, depressed, overwhelmed. We talked about our kids way too much. Then cancer. Cancer?! At a birthday dinner. Ugh. One of things that brings me down the most about having kids is the possibility that after the hard part, the first 18 years, is over either they wont want anything to do with me or they will but I will die from some awfulness like cancer.

It happened to my mother-in-law. She busted her ass raising her four boys while working double shifts as a recovery room nurse without a whole lot of help from her husband. Just after the youngest went to college, out of the clear blue, she had a massive stroke from a brain tumor. She never came close to recovering and died a year later. At 51. She didn’t see any of her boys get married and didn’t meet any of her six (so far) grandchildren. That is def*ckingpressing.

The other thing I came home thinking about was how isolated we are in my neighborhood. I see my neighbors as we all go in and out of our driveways all day long, schlepping our kids around. The kids don’t play outside the way we did growing up. They are too busy with homework, piano lessons, sports, ballet, “playdates.” Oh how I loathe the term “playdate.” When we moved here I actually tried, hard, to connect with people in my neighborhood. Silly me.

Then there’s this. Since I am staying home with my kids, they are pretty much what gives my life meaning. What if they turn out to be complete jackasses? What if I really screw it up? Screw them up? Its such an enormous responsibility raising children and I feel the weight of it everyday. Will they ever eat green vegetables? Are they getting enough calcium? Will legoboy ever develop any frustration tolerance whatsoever? Will my older daughter do every single drug she can get her hands on as soon as she possibly can? (I did.) Will my daughters hate each other, deeply and completely? Should I force legoboy to plays sports and if not then will he be left out as one by one his friends get obsessed with sports while he still wants to run around pretending to be star wars characters? Will my f*ckedupness ruin their lives? Will they be deeply unhappy? At least I know one thing for sure. It will be all be my fault. Isn’t everything always the mother’s fault?

Meanwhile I am spouting off about how I worry about their white-flour loving palettes but I am willing to overlook that i steal away sometimes to smoke weed in my empty bathtub? What the f*ck? I think the fact the I am such a worrier, and that I feel like so many of the decisions that I make on a daily basis can have such far-reaching consequences, is what drives me to try to reduce that anxiety. Yes I am on meds. 50 mg of Zoloft. It is helping. Just not enough. I haven’t increased my dosage because I am still nursing my 20 month-old and it seems to affect her sleep. Yes smoking weed and nursing a baby. Many of our moms drank and smoked while they were pregnant with us, right? I always try to make sure I don’t nurse her for several-many hours after I smoke. But it’s in my system. I know. Imagine the comments that I am going to get about this. Bring it on. It cant be any worse than what I am already thinking. And so it goes. On and on.

It’s way past time that I get back into regular therapy. If only my therapist would stop going to Nepal for six weeks at a time. Yes I could/should get a new therapist. I could and should exercise too. And I should wash my face every night instead of just when I take a shower, which should be more often. And I should wax my bikini area instead of just halfheartedly trying to tuck in the strays. and I should put out more but I feel so not connected to my husband and I have WAY WAY too much deadbabytrauma to consider accepting a penis into my body when i’d rather curl up into the fetal position. I should cook. I should clean. I should check the mail more often. I should watch less tv.

Electroshock therapy. That’s what I should really do.

still here

•January 19, 2009 • 13 Comments

i couldnt even think of a clever title.  i’m still here.  let’s say i’ve been “amotivated.”  (where the fuck does that period go?  does it ever really go outside the quotation mark?  it looks wrong out there.)

really i’ve been busy with the kids and with being an addict i guess.  i’m addicted to pot.  (and maybe to alcohol too.)  whenever i have pot, i have to smoke it.  when i have it and am not high, i am thinking about when i will get high.  i’ve been doing this, off and on,  to some degree, for oh maybe 10 years, maybe 15.  it’s exhausting.  the abuse that i heap upon myself drives the cycle.  fact is, most or at least much of the abuse is well-deserved.

i havent wanted to post about this because i want it to be a secret.  i am afraid of telling people, my husband, blogland, the truth.  because i have kids.  little kids.  even though i tell myself that sometimes i am a better parent when i’ve had a toke, fact is, i am often high while i am taking care of my children and that just cant be a good thing.  even when we dropkick soccer balls into a tree to make the autumn leaves shower down on us.  even when i haul the camera out and take what i think are some breathtaking photos of my children.  okay so most of them are blurry but thats because i dont know how to work our fancy camera.  i digress.

i am an addict.

i’m considering blogging about it.  does anybody know any blogs by people who are coming to terms with addiction?  i could use some company here.

shame

•June 30, 2008 • 20 Comments

aww thanks for checking in on me ladies.  sorry to have gone AWOL.  basically, i’ve been smoking pot again and riding the substance abuse rollercoaster.  its not pretty.  i dont want to write about it because i am ashamed.

last night i drank three STRONG gin and tonics with my neighbors, took a completely unnecessary hit of MJ, and then threw up on my lawn.  nice, huh?  i feel worthless today.

dosmamas update

•May 5, 2008 • 15 Comments

C asked me to guest post for her but since i am a complete moron i cant find a way to sign in to her wordpress account. there does not seem to be a sign in page at all. ideas?

so i spoke with C earlier today and they are still in the hospital. everything is fine. S has been discharged but they are able to stay because the baby is a patient. she has jaundice and needs a little more time in her lightsuit. i picture her looking like a little yellow jetson baby. C said i could nickname her. as if. i mean really. what an honor but one that i may not prove worthy of. we all know how difficult nicknames are. my best attempt is this: “littleo”. y’know like the Big O but smaller. this will make more sense when you hear her name.

anywayyyyyy, littleo is having a hard time becoming unyellow because she isnt pooping or peeing much because she hasnt been nursing much. she needs to process out the bilirubin through her digestive system.  but she’s picking up the pace and hopefully will be checking out of her lightbed tomorrow.

the nursing has been a little challenging. s’s milk has not come in yet so she is on a rigorous schedule of nursing, pumping, nursing with supplemental feeding tube, cleaning the parts. phew. S’s nipples are killing her even with a good latch, possibly because freckled women have extra-sensitive nipples. actually her nipples probably hurt because nursing hurts like a mo’fo’ in the beginning regardless of one’s being freckled or unfreckled.

goddammit. monstergirl is relapsing. she is peeing in her panties for the millionth fucking time. she’s standing cross-legged, RIGHT IN FRONT of her potty and screaming, “peeeeeeeeee. peeeeeeee. mamaaaaaaa.” yep. she’s almost four. and babykate just woke up from a 20 fucking minute excuse for a nap. and now legoboy is all bitter because there arent enough blank pages in his journal. you gotta be fucking kidding me.

monstergirl is still screaming. oh my god i so royally fucked up her potty training.

okay it’s over. 30 minutes later. i am shredded. gutted. she’s coloring. cheerfully. normally i would begin the post-fit recriminations of how i handled the situation and the catastrophizing about how fucked she is going to turn out. but i’ve got to finish my post about the mamas.

so they are good. the hospital is pretty much the waldorf astoria of maternity centers so they are being very well cared for. S is frustrated and scared about the nursing situation but hopefully her milk will come in soon. and then she’ll have hamburger meat where her nipples used to be but at least the baby wont be yellow anymore.

they couldnt decide between two names so they flipped a coin.  um-hm.  yes they did.  they flipped. a. coin.  for reals.  those crazy mamas.

i’ll leave the birth details to C although i sure have plenty of them still swirling around my addled brain. if you are dying for any particular details, leave it in your comment and i’ll try to oblige. if anybody can leave me a link to a wordpress sign-in page then i’ll try to post this on her blog.

OH. MY. GOD. *updated

•May 4, 2008 • 9 Comments

if i had to sum it all up in three words, those would be the three. it seemed most improbable at times, like after S was pushing, UNMEDICATED, for an hour and a half and the doctor said she saw a mere QUARTER-sized part of the baby’s head. it didn’t seem possible to me that the baby was coming out. out the belly maybe but certainly not the vagina. but another hour and a new position later and what do you know? she came out!! she really came out. and she was asleep! then she woke up and cried a little and met her family.

the whole thing was nothing short of astonishing. the baby is perfectly lovely and really, really big. 8 lbs, 13 ozs!! no wonder pushing her out was a little troublesome. ouch. ouch. ouch.

i am so glad that i was able to go and that i chose to go. i am also really glad that i had three c-sections! i am quite certain that i could not have done what S did. i would’ve needed an epidural for sure and i think i would’ve alternated screaming and cursing with giving up completely and hysterically crying.

i am dying to know how things are going at home, like if she has decided to start nursing (she still wasn’t so interested at 12 hours old) and what her name is. so i will wait, along with all of C’s readers, to hear news of the mamas and their baby. or maybe i will call one more time just in case they didn’t get my message.

update- so i couldnt wait any longer for news so i called one of the other women who’d been at the birth.  apparently the mamas are still in the hospital because the baby has jaundice.  they were supposed to leave on saturday night (the baby was born friday morning, at 3:51 a.m. i believe) but they got 2 extra nights because of the jaundice.  she has been named.  she is drinking smuggled breast milk because S’s milk hasnt come in yet and they dont want to give her formula.  smarty has been with them the whole time and is digging his baby sister.  turns out S pushed for three hours.  no wonder it seemed like she pushed for, well, three hours.

i would’ve guest-posted for C had she asked me to.  i certainly do not want to be stealing any thunder here but it sounds like there are many desperate friends and readers out there.  all is well ladies.  they will certainly be going home tomorrow.  i know C doesn’t have her computer and i dont think there is internet access.

baby on the way

•May 1, 2008 • 3 Comments

the mamas are having their baby.  today it seems.  i didnt think i was going to the birth.  but then i got the call.  actually i missed the call that came in the middle of the night so i got “the message.”  the baby is coming.  s’s water broke and splashed all over the floor.  i dont know.  its not what i expected but when i talked to C. this morning after i hung up i thought, “no fucking way am i missing this.”  all thoughts of becoming too attached seemed trivial in comparison with, “my friends are having a baby TODAY and i am invited and where the hell are my car keys!”

it certainly helps that RM has the next two days off work and can cover everything involving the kids.  that is a MIRACLE in itself.  RM is all, “duh.  of course you are going.  she’s your friend and  she’s having a baby.”

standing by here for the “get in the car call” and i’l be running around packing up a  bag of stuff for the mamas.  let’s see i’ll need cameras, chargers, cell phone, gifts, extra pads, breast pads, a few precious hand-me-down clothes….  how fun; my friends are having a baby but i also get to run around and pack a bag for the hospital.  oh yeah and breastpump, freezer packs… i better get busy.  cant wait to see them.  and their daughter.