Yet again, here we are, Christmas is upon us. I see s many commercials and ads for a plethora of items I know my family would love. But I never have any money to purchase them. It's been years since I went Christmas shopping. We end up splurging and getting the boys one nice gift and them get Toys for Tots for the rest. They are usually very nice gifts as well. That's life, I suppose. We do what we can.
But I always, always make sure we participate in the different Christmas activities around town. I drag them to the Christmas parade, the Festival of Lights at Fisherman's Village, we always go on the Christmas light cruise in Punta Gorda. And of course any school activities .I still would like to take them to the Lights in Bloom at the botanical gardens, which we may still do after the holiday.
So there you go, I drag them to Christmas festivities instead of buying lots of gifts. I like to think that quality time is more important than any gift anyway.
But it sure would be fun to do some shopping!
Monday, December 23, 2013
Saturday, December 14, 2013
OCD the true story
Sometimes I hear people joke about having OCD related to some random stupid thing, "I always lock my car twice, I guess I am so OCD haha!" or " I always wipe my shoes on the mat when I enter a house, I'm so OCD!"
Hmm, not so much. If it was only so mild and pleasant and humorous. I wish.
Sometimes I am overwhelmed by anxiety regarding tidiness and cleanliness. Nothing ,including my body, is clean enough. I am merely disgusted y myself and my surroundings. I feel like I could scratch my skin and pull at my hair to act out the hatred I possess for myself and my all around me. I don't want to be touched unless I know you just climbed out of a good bath.
Oddly enough, any baby aged child of mine is exempt. Can't explain that one.
I can't stand feeling this way. Often I wonder the bliss of being a slob with no order or organization to run my life.
When I go to work, no matter how busy it is, I have to clean and tidy up the nurses station. A place for everything and everything in it's place. I cannot concentrate in a cluttered mess.
I have one patient that I am convinced must have been a former hoarder. I can picture her small dwelling full of cheap knick-knacks and garage sale junk. Probably cats and items from a flea market sale, piled up next to half-empty bowls of nastiness and cups of cold coffee. I can't stand her room, to enter it simply makes me cringe.
I miss having my own car since I always kept it clean. My lovely husband tends to leave trash in our van and shirts and sweaters and receipts on the passenger seat.
I love my kids but they always wipe their hands n their clothing of even the furniture. By now I wish I could get a new couch every month, nice and clean and unstained.
When I was a child I had an obsession with numbers. Everything had to be 4. Or multiples of 4, but preferably 4. Because it was even. If you put 4 on a see saw you would have 2 on each side and it would balance, you see. I had to turn light on and off 4 times. Among numerous other things. I thought I would have some kind of "bad luck" if I did not.
I started taking antidepressants when I was twenty for severe depression. I have battled it for most of my adult life. That and my anxiety. My horrible anxiety. I really wonder what it would be like to be normal but am aware that I may never know. I feel guilty sometimes for having children as I am afraid it may be a genetic condition. Both of my parents had experienced anxiety and depression at times in their life. As does my brother.
I can't believe my poor kids have me to be their mom. Fortunately the bad days are relatively rare.
I suppose I should just try my best and see where it gets me. Who knows?
Hmm, not so much. If it was only so mild and pleasant and humorous. I wish.
Sometimes I am overwhelmed by anxiety regarding tidiness and cleanliness. Nothing ,including my body, is clean enough. I am merely disgusted y myself and my surroundings. I feel like I could scratch my skin and pull at my hair to act out the hatred I possess for myself and my all around me. I don't want to be touched unless I know you just climbed out of a good bath.
Oddly enough, any baby aged child of mine is exempt. Can't explain that one.
I can't stand feeling this way. Often I wonder the bliss of being a slob with no order or organization to run my life.
When I go to work, no matter how busy it is, I have to clean and tidy up the nurses station. A place for everything and everything in it's place. I cannot concentrate in a cluttered mess.
I have one patient that I am convinced must have been a former hoarder. I can picture her small dwelling full of cheap knick-knacks and garage sale junk. Probably cats and items from a flea market sale, piled up next to half-empty bowls of nastiness and cups of cold coffee. I can't stand her room, to enter it simply makes me cringe.
I miss having my own car since I always kept it clean. My lovely husband tends to leave trash in our van and shirts and sweaters and receipts on the passenger seat.
I love my kids but they always wipe their hands n their clothing of even the furniture. By now I wish I could get a new couch every month, nice and clean and unstained.
When I was a child I had an obsession with numbers. Everything had to be 4. Or multiples of 4, but preferably 4. Because it was even. If you put 4 on a see saw you would have 2 on each side and it would balance, you see. I had to turn light on and off 4 times. Among numerous other things. I thought I would have some kind of "bad luck" if I did not.
I started taking antidepressants when I was twenty for severe depression. I have battled it for most of my adult life. That and my anxiety. My horrible anxiety. I really wonder what it would be like to be normal but am aware that I may never know. I feel guilty sometimes for having children as I am afraid it may be a genetic condition. Both of my parents had experienced anxiety and depression at times in their life. As does my brother.
I can't believe my poor kids have me to be their mom. Fortunately the bad days are relatively rare.
I suppose I should just try my best and see where it gets me. Who knows?
Friday, December 06, 2013
#Separate Lives
What is with all the hash tags? I think it's a Twitter thing but I see a lot of them on Facebook as well. Little annoying in my opinion.
In any case, I feel like David and I are ships passing in the day. He watches Joshua while I sleep and wakes me when he goes to work. This weekend we have 2 whole days off together. I really love that man. And no matter what we may or may not be able to afford in life he helped me have the best gifts ever. Boy 1, boy 2 and boy 3. Otherwise known as Seth, Sean and Joshua.
I love my kiddos more than anything. I know people who more of less dislike or possibly hate their kids and I may never understand. Do my kids ever get on my nerves? Do I ever go to the bathroom to get some quiet? Of course. I'm only a human, after all. But hugs and smiles from my boys makes me always feel a bit better.
Recently I found out that a previous occupant of my house was a horrible man and his wife who hated his son so much they would lock him in his room and feed him one peanut butter sandwich a day- slid under the door. Of course, leaving the boy no choice but to urinate and defecate in his room. He had no rug in his room. Only a mattress on the floor. No toys. No books.
That room now houses my two boys. And haunts me.
It happened 3 years ago. That year I did an agency shift at the behavioral center and took care of that boy earlier in the year prior to all this stuff being found out. His family complained about his horrible behavior and his urinating and such all over his room. they conveniently left out the part where he was locked in said room leaving him no choice. So anyway, they brought him to the behavioral center, where it was common knowledge among the staff that his parents disliked him. Especially his stepmom. Turns out the boys was not incontinent ever while he was there, and well behaved, polite and sweet. He enjoyed playing ball in the hallway with another kid that was there at the same time. Adorable boy.
I wished I could adopt him, I seriously did! I thought he would be a great big brother to my boys. Anyway he ended up being sent back with his family which very nearly starved him to death 4 months later. It bothers me that the behavioral center had a chance to intervene and remove him from that home but did not.
In any case, I am haunted everyday as to what that poor boy went through in this house. All those days alone, hungry, sad, and scared. I wish I could have saved him.
But at least I can always make sure that my boys never, ever have to feel that way.
In any case, I feel like David and I are ships passing in the day. He watches Joshua while I sleep and wakes me when he goes to work. This weekend we have 2 whole days off together. I really love that man. And no matter what we may or may not be able to afford in life he helped me have the best gifts ever. Boy 1, boy 2 and boy 3. Otherwise known as Seth, Sean and Joshua.
I love my kiddos more than anything. I know people who more of less dislike or possibly hate their kids and I may never understand. Do my kids ever get on my nerves? Do I ever go to the bathroom to get some quiet? Of course. I'm only a human, after all. But hugs and smiles from my boys makes me always feel a bit better.
Recently I found out that a previous occupant of my house was a horrible man and his wife who hated his son so much they would lock him in his room and feed him one peanut butter sandwich a day- slid under the door. Of course, leaving the boy no choice but to urinate and defecate in his room. He had no rug in his room. Only a mattress on the floor. No toys. No books.
That room now houses my two boys. And haunts me.
It happened 3 years ago. That year I did an agency shift at the behavioral center and took care of that boy earlier in the year prior to all this stuff being found out. His family complained about his horrible behavior and his urinating and such all over his room. they conveniently left out the part where he was locked in said room leaving him no choice. So anyway, they brought him to the behavioral center, where it was common knowledge among the staff that his parents disliked him. Especially his stepmom. Turns out the boys was not incontinent ever while he was there, and well behaved, polite and sweet. He enjoyed playing ball in the hallway with another kid that was there at the same time. Adorable boy.
I wished I could adopt him, I seriously did! I thought he would be a great big brother to my boys. Anyway he ended up being sent back with his family which very nearly starved him to death 4 months later. It bothers me that the behavioral center had a chance to intervene and remove him from that home but did not.
In any case, I am haunted everyday as to what that poor boy went through in this house. All those days alone, hungry, sad, and scared. I wish I could have saved him.
But at least I can always make sure that my boys never, ever have to feel that way.
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