Now that whirlwind of the holiday season is over and we are collectively experiencing a massive dopamine crash…
Let’s take a moment now to reflect and ponder…How the hell did we do all that?
Or maybe “What was I thinking buying that?”
Bedazzled
The glow of the Christmas lights ignites a warm feeling in our hearts and a goodwill toward others. It courses through our veins like heroin. It’s as if the high of “giving the perfect gift” intoxicates our mind and clouds our judgement. We think with our hearts instead of our brain. Thankfully for our bank account, it only happens once a year. Yet, I still love every minute of it and will do it all again next year.
This year, however, it seemed more apparent to me than in years past, the weeks before Christmas are more of a rush than the actual day. The preparation for Christmas, the tree, decorating, shopping, & wrapping gets us excited. This excitement from Black Friday until 12/25 is a perpetual, steady, high like no other.
I noticed on Christmas day, there was a slight sting hovering in the background; mourning the loss of the “anticipation“.
Don’t get me wrong, my Christmas week was a blast. This was an ambivalent feeling of pure joy, combined with a lump in the back of my throat. I miss “looking forward to it”. I miss being excited. Must be aging…
This got me thinking… if I live to 100, I’ll only have 49 more Christmases. đą
While I was watching my annual Christmas movie selections; I noticed another surprising change. I found that I was annoyed with George Bailey. I’ve been loyal to him for 35 years so it’s tough to admit, but I have lost patience for him in my old age. He sounds like a whiny brat at times.
I have been identifying more with the true hero of the story..Mary Hatch Bailey. Mary knew what was going on the whole time.
Mary Hatch knew she loved George even as a young girl.
Mary whispers in his bad ear, “George Bailey, I’ll love you til the day I die.”
She was subtle and assertive when something or someone stood in her way.
Aka Back off Bitch, you can’t have ALL the boys in this town!
She knew where she wanted to live. She visualized and wished with her heart; it worked. Little did she know without the internet or Instagram, that she was manifesting dat shit into her life.
Most of all, she innately knew what was important and could see the big picture. She didn’t need a whole production of angels coming down from heaven and putting on a show of “not being born” to let her know what life is all about…
Love
Acts of service
Social connection
Mary stayed focused on her goals and didn’t pay attention what other people were doing.
Mary: “Get Bent Sam Wainright.”
When there was dilemma, Mary found a solution.
When the whole town was bankrupt, she “lent” her honeymoon money to the community.
She fixed up the old house to make it a “home.” She he found a solution instead of whining about the cards she was dealt.
Am I still allowed to say she added a “woman’s touch?”
She didn’t get embarrassed that her car was a p.o.s. or by what she was wearing.
Mary: “Why are you wearing diamonds and furs on a roadtrip?”
Mary had four babies, volunteered during the war and supported the well-being of her husband and kids.
When the $8000 went missing, she knew WHEN to ask for help from her friends. One person or family can’t do all the giving. She is aware that friendship is a two-way street.
Shit just got real.
She knew when to stop giving and to ask for help, she knew that pride doesn’t save anybody.
Therefore, we need to be aware of when to stop giving and start asking.
The key is, recognizing what is in your control and what is not.
Knowing when you need to LET others do what they are going to do.
Let others THINK what they are going to THINK.
Let people gossip.
Let people judge.
Let people display their true self all over the place.
Why? Because it is out of your control. Why expend the time and energy? If someone acts like they want to leave and doesn’t treat you the way you want, you can let them GO.
“Why don’t you GO HOME! aka GTFO George Bailey you lil bitch.”Feel it Get pissed Regroup Move OnGive them a chance to want to change
Below is a link to 60 minutes of the best therapy ever (you can fast forward through commercials.)
This podcast episode provides the tools and mindset on common situations such as: Dealing with a stressful boss, a break up or a divorce, when your children can’t get motivated or when you feel guilty about disappointing your family, or friends & more.
The game-changing concept that is also discussed “If every thought you had cost a dollar, would you keep thinking about it?” Would you keep wasting your energy if it cost money?
Since I’ve been gluten & dairy free for 20 years, my binging on candy and baked goods has been a lot more challenging.
This is a good thing of course.
I found out about celiac disease, the gluten allergy, before most heard of it, in 2004. People would look at me like I was nuts when I told them.
It wasn’t that big of a deal at first because I still had the option to binge on dairy products like ice cream, gluten-free pizza, Frappuccinos, cheese, & yogurt.
Then I kept getting these scorching sinus infections & migraines, so I went to the doctor. She suggested I try no dairy for a while because it’s mucus producing. Dairy is also a huge trigger for migraines.
Unfortunately, that was the solution. I felt fantastic physically, however, mentally not so good..
I went into a deep depression induced by cheese-withdrawal.
(I still have reoccurring dairy-free-depressive episodes, intermittently triggered by not being able to eat pizza or a grilled cheese etc.)
Dairy-free cheese has not been able to cut it…Cut the real cheese. đ
Dairy, soy and gluten/wheat is in almost everything, especially most delicious candy bars and chocolate.
Since then, my occasional go-to favorite candy is pink starburst.
I savagely rip through my kids Halloween candy each year.
I’m usually irritable the next day if I eat a lot of sugar. Sugar hangovers are real. I do my best to limit it. However some days I cave if I’m really tired.
Anyways, my son bought me a huge bag of all pink starburst. It was a sweet gesture, yet I was furious with him.
“Don’t bring that shit in the house, you know I can’t control myself!“
I say this to him as I am shoving pink starburst into my mouth & frantically unwrapping more.
The binge began…
The scrumptious starburst were gone in about eight days.. Everybody in my house had some, but I consumed the most. I was pushing them onto my family like a crack dealer.
I was so crabby each morning.
I was in a steady, simmering rage for four days, irate, snapping at everyone, & ready to pounce.
Whenever I would have these episodes in the past, I would chalk it up to my period.
However, I had a hysterectomy in November 2023.
Can’t use my period as an excuse anymore. ….(next post will be about the correlation between diet, menopause & hormones).
I felt like I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus and I was so agitated.
If I am a 49-year old woman experiencing this type of chemically-induced rage, what do you think would happen to a toddler/child/teen if they consumed these products.
Desire to be annoying Threatening & Argumentative Aggressive & Violent
I used to think red 40 and behavioral problems was a bunch of baloney. I am humbled to admit that I believe the chemicals, artificial colors, flavors & Red#40 in our food is poison.
It may not be the instant, fatal poison. â ïž However, it is clear in how the body reacts to these ingredients.
There are tons of tik toks, articles, & posts about the correlation of diet, red #40 & behavioral problems in kids/teens.
There is also concrete, scientific evidence that this is true here and article at the end.
This guy below is a doctor (@docamen) and boldly posted this, so there must be some truth to it:
Garbage in, Garbage out.
Terrible chemicals in our food combined with overstimulation from electronic devices sounds like a recipe for disaster.
Where do you think these episodes cause the most issues?
At school, where you need to focus, sit still and be receptive to learning.
Sitting still in a desk for hours is already difficult, why add anything to make it worse?
Maybe after kids consume starburst, skittles, nerds, twizzlers, fruit snacks, cheetos, doritos, pop-tarts, gatorade, sour patch kids, gummy bears, fruit roll ups, pudding snack packs, jello, powerade, high-C, juice etc, at breakfast or lunch-you may see behavior like this:
I am communicating this because I clearly overdosed on red 40. As an adult, who forgets sometimes and eats this crap; it’s obvious some people are very sensitive to this FDA permitted junk.
The FDA to consumers:
A friend of mine, a teacher of kindergarten, sent me this text after my last post.
Another teacher friend replied:
We can’t keep dumping this on teachers & schools.
I won’t bore you with the details and the conspiracy theories. Instead, wondering if collectively, we ALL could stop purchasing products with red 40. Hopefully companies will stop making it the poisonous way.
Or perhaps, it can be banned like it is in Europe & other countries.
It’s all really confusing:
These products are fast and cheap but there is no food in your food.
Looking at the ingredients in products before you purchase them is frustrating and time consuming, however, if it prevents us and our kids/teens from behaving like assholes, isn’t it worth it?
Something quick now is slowly poisoning ourselves over time.
The most difficult class I took in grad school was called Group Dynamics.
I walked in to a large classroom set up with thirty desks facing each other in a circle. The only person in the circle without a backpack at their feet, was a lanky, tall guy wearing a plaid shirt and navy tie.
He resembled a 45 year old Alex P. Keaton with Dick Van Dyke legs. His legs were crossed and he looked way too casual for a student. His elbow was propped on the desk and his hand held a pen that he clicked repeatedly next to his ear. He continued to look at each of us, yet didnât say a word.
When the clock displayed the 6:30pm start time, no teacher introduced themself. It was odd. Five minutes went by without anyone speaking. The clock seemed to move in slow motion. The quiet was deafening and awkward.
After about 15 minutes, we all started looking at each other with that WTF-bewildered-look. Some raised their hands, no response. Students talked out loud, asked questions, some whispered to each other.…crickets…most students shrugged their shoulders.
We sat there in silence for 50 minutes. đŠ
It was maddening.
At the end of the class, the syllabus was passed around and the teacher left.
His name was Dr. Wolf.
The Assignment for the next week was to turn in five group dynamic observations we learned from this class.
But, we didnât learn anything?
I scoured the book for hours all week trying to figure it out. I turned my sentences in, received it back at the end of class -grade 0/5. What?
Week after week I would relentlessly read and compose informative sentences only to receive a big fat zero. So I tried harder, read the chapter longer.
Continuous weekly ZEROS.
Each class, the silent Dr. Wolf would remain unresponsive, despite the students were becoming visibly frustrated, emotional, & downright irate.
When I received a zero on my test, my chest collapsed in devastation. I remember walking out of school into the January cold, sobbing. That Ugly cry. I cried all the way home and considered dropping the class.
Unfortunately, the class was mandatory in order to graduate.
I never tried so hard at anything in my life. Finally, I got angry.
I said âFuck it.â I stopped trying. I stopped caring. I didnât look at the book for a week.
After the next class, I half-assedly wrote down what I observed in the class. I relished in my passive aggression to the teacher.
Get. Bent. Dr. Wolf.
My statements:
1. “Without proper leadership, a group begins to look to each other for a new leader because their current one sucks.â
2. “Without direction or rules, a group breaks into cliques or subgroups and complains or talks about their own topics.â
3. “When the leader ignores the group, the members become frustrated, disrespectful, or withdrawn.â
4. “Without leader guidance, group members may want to leave the group.â
5. “Emotionally unsupportive male leaders may become strangely attractive to group members.”
The last one cracked me up.
Clearly, I got a thing for tall, lanky, emotionally unavailable men. đ
I turned in these statements at end of class. I didnât even wait until the next week. I wanted him to associate my face with my answers. I gave him an obstinate look as I tossed the sheet on his desk.
That following week I was excited to receive my zero. At least I didnât waste hours of my time for this F/Zero. I hoped to see some type of expression on Dr. Wolfâs smug, stupid yet sexy face.
The paper was given to me with a
5 out 5-100% in red ink!!!
My neck snapped back like I was in a head-on collision. My temples throbbed like I had a case of whiplash.
Huh?
Then the epiphany…
Ohhhhh, he wants to know what I think, not what the books says.
I learned this without him saying one word.
I was also trying way too hard instead of seeing big picture.
“Work smarter, not harder” finally became clear.
From that day on, I was on fire.
Once I “got it” … I was unstoppable.
Imagine if I quit before it clicked. What a shame that would’ve been.
I learned more from this class than any other in my entire educational career.
Why?
Now this occurred 20+ years ago.
What would’ve happened if this class occurred in 2024?
Most would’ve just given up, dropped the class, maybe even changed majors. There was no instant gratification.
The giving up reasoning aka whining or excuses would probably sound like:
“It’s too hard!”
“He is emotionally abusive.”
“I’m being bullied.”
“The teacher is racist.”
“He’s a narcissist.”
These are paraphrased statements that I have heard from my own children and from other kids/teens; even adults.
Which I usually counter with “Maybe they are, but what are you learning from this?” as my mind flashes back to Dr. Wolf…
However, I never realized that at times, I was enabling my kids to use their feelings as an excuse; or making them feel too special so they thought they didn’t have to try.
My intention was to empower my kids, instead, I may have been fostering dependence on my approval.
I believe collectively, we all wanted to ensure our children had a more positive upbringing than we did.
Unfortunately, it may have gone too far and it seems to be backfiring.
As Simon Sinek states here & in the below link that this mindset could’ve been exacerbated we started to give everyone participation trophies.
Kids learned that everybody gets rewarded even if they don’t try, so why bother exerting effort.
Painful revelation
I am humbled to admit this:
When my husband encouraged my kids to throw away all of their participation medals & trophies, my kids (7 & 5) were crying, I erroneously sided with my kids.
I didn’t understand what my husband was trying to accomplish. He was ten years ahead of me. All I could see is how upset they were.
My own childhood confusion was prolonged by not having the “WHY” explained, so I convinced my husband to explain WHY he wanted the kids to do this. It made sense, sort of. I still didn’t see how this would have an impact on their future.
I see it now.
How else are they are going to learn to get back up when they are knocked down?
When things get tough, are they going to get back up or quit.
Are they going to keep trying after they fail, or surrender.
Have you ever had a vivid memory of an experience from decades ago come flooding back to you out of nowhere?
I had this memory tsunami happen to me yesterday.
I have been doing this Meditation challenge since the beginning of 2024. This app was referred to me by my brilliant colleague. (Links below).
Yesterday morning, I completed session four of the “Taming Anxiety” challenge. The topic was about cognitive distortions.
I haven’t thought about my own battle with cognitive distortions since college.
Feeling compelled to share my experience in case anyone is feeling stuck or discouraged. I could’ve used the information below way earlier.
This life-altering moment occurred when I met with the school counselor about my schedule. Apparently, something I said was a red flag to the counselor that I was struggling with anxiety.
Thankfully, she did not use the word “anxiety” at the time. Unlike now, that uncommon, scary word and its symptoms were foreign back in the 90’s.
The counselor handed me a paper describing cognitive distortions (CD). I distinctly remember reading these, with my eyes bulging out of my head. I was in utter shock that this wasn’t a “normal” way to think.
As a student, I was able to start seeing her weekly for free. If it wasn’t free, I would have never gone through with it. I needed to save my money for nickel beer night. (A non-clinical, absurd cognitive distortion. đ)
Each week, I discussed all of the stupid, irrational, and impulsive behaviors I did while operating in a perpetually, anxious state-of-mind.
It took a tremendous amount of effort to retrain my brain, unlearn old ways and reframe the CD. I truly believed I would NEVER be able to stop them.
I kept showing up even though I dreaded it and was uncomfortable.
By going to counseling & actively participating, I inadvertently leaned toward anxiety and its clutches.
Then an emotion showed up…humiliation aka cringe.
All I can say is thank effing gawd there were no cell phones or social media back then.
I experienced all of these:
After about 20 sessions, the counselor subtly addressed my lifestyle and inquired about how I have been coping with these tricky little fuckers.
The counselor then pointed out that contrary to popular belief, alcohol will only temporarily help. “Alcohol and marijuana are like a band-aid, and they make anxiety worse if using them to “self-medicate”. They may also cause paranoia.”
Every single one of those pesky, mind-fucking, cognitive distortions were on blast all-of-the-time. Ironically, they were present before, but I did not notice because I was detached from myself.
Suddenly, when I got in-tune with my body & mind, I felt paralyzed with anxiety. I froze, couldn’t make decisions, and just stopped everything.
Which led to…
Social anxiety & social isolation
I was terrified that I would have a panic attack in public. Panic attacks are real & scary AF.
I was very confused that I felt worse in therapy. The counselor gently reminded me that “Things get worse before they get better, it is always darkest before the dawn.” I let go & trusted the process.
Once I accepted it…I became consumed with talking about anxiety and explaining myself to everybody.
Side effect of untreated trauma+anxiety=lack of boundaries…
Thankfully, I had a very, wise friend, who could see the big picture. She said something profound to me like this:
Engaging with a friend who “gets you” without judgement, makes a monumental difference.
With time, patience, and lifestyle changes, this way of thinking extinguished itself. Of course this anxiety got “canceled” by utilizing a combination of counseling, mindfulness, physical exercise, limiting caffeine/sugar/alcohol, spending time outside often, taking vitamins, journaling, yoga/pilates, mindfulness, medication and most importantly, in-person human connection.
Looking back, it appeared to be absolutely impossible to overcome.
Now it seems like no big deal. I had to feel it, do the emotional work and allow it to pass.
I am glad that there is less stigma & more awareness about mental health and anxiety, currently.
However, it should not be used as an excuse to give up. No one IS their diagnosis. The more you avoid, numb, or hide from it, the longer it takes. Running from it only prolongs the process. The process can be conquered with the proper guidance, effort, & dedication.
In 1998, there was no other option in my outlook, except to keep trying. It was also way easier to unplug and detach back in the olden days.
How terrifying for gen z, teenagers & children right now? The social pressure, “cancel culture”, picture-perfect-life-posting and the “it’s-too-hard-I-give-up” mindset is disheartening.
Humans have survived thousands of years before iPhones, social media and the internet.
Reminder: Humans are resilient.
The epiphany empowered me today to push my teens to face uncomfortable emotions that sting.
Pain teaches you something.
Nothing ever grows in a comfort zone.
It’s a constant effort to remind myself of what is considered a big deal to my kids.
Social connection is getting worse, not better. Therefore, it is never too early to start healthy coping strategies. I mean, if nine-year-olds are spending $900 at Sephora on anti-aging skin regimens, then it wouldn’t hurt for a child/teen to unplug their mind for 15 minutes a day.
What I really like about this app is it makes the decision for you. It is like a parent that perhaps all adults need sometimes. “This is what is on the agenda today, do it and stfu.” It has a calendar that keeps track of your progress. Lastly, the founder, Dan Harris, describes how he had a panic attack on national television.
Any generation could understand how mortifying that had to be.
If numb & detached, you can’t feel love Since I published this, I completed this 7 out 10 day challenge. I don’t know why but this little badge made me feel a slight bit of accomplishment.
This is a revised re-post. It’s was a therapeutic, free association that is too difficult for me to shorten…
September 8, 2020…When I saw that âCobraKaiâ was the #1 watched series on Netflix, my mouth dropped open. I started trembling. I assume this reaction was due to a level of euphoria that I have not been able to publicly get in touch with since 1986. It was an intoxicating feeling of true belonging, like âI am not that big of a weirdoâ after all. Other people in this world are clearly are obsessed with Karate Kid as well.
My siblings and I can quote The Karate Kid pretty much word for word. Iâm sure people who have witnessed us in âKarate Kid (“KK quote modeâ) must have thought, âJeez, how many times have you watched this.â Daniel Larusso’s self-righteous anger & Johnny Lawrence with his gleaming, blonde, visor haircut never gets old.
âBelonging is the innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. Because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval.”
Over the years, there has been brief moments where Iâve had the courage to be my authentic-KK-loving self. This was usually brought on, subconsciously, by enough alcohol that could kill a small child. Some may get white girl wasted, but I prefer to say Mr. Miyagi wasted.
This first incident was released by liquid courage, not true courage. I was 21ish, enjoying the last few hours of the weekend at Reillyâs Daughter. As Cruel Summer by Banana Rama began blaring, one of my sloppy, drunk, guy friends slurred these words to me âHey! The Karate Kid song!â Omg. Suddenly, there was something there between us that wasnât there before.
As he was clumsily swaying back and forth to the song, holding a pitcher of Lemovox in one hand, a full cup with a cigarette in the other; he stepped out of the friend zone and he became strangely attractive. I was captivated by his lack of rhythm and impeccable hand-eye coordination. I was entranced and ready to make out with him in the middle of the bar; kinda like how Daniel nearly swallowed Ali at Golf ân Stuff.
By the grace of God, he slipped and wiped out on the perpetually sticky and damp, bar floor. The pitcher of lemovox spilled all over his clothes, hair and eyes. He stumbled to get up, screeching that the cheap, acidic combo was burning his eyes.
The laughter of all the guys combined with his fall, broke the lemovox induced spell.
Where am I? Perhaps I should re-think this?
Anyways, it was a close call. This was my first indication that my private obsession with Karate Kid could potentially become a big problem. If I acted on my irrational impulses, it would have been, literally, a cruel summer for me. My friends wouldâve ripped me apart for the next six months; perhaps years. I made sure to keep this side of me repressed in the future.
I will play possum until this goes away
The second time, the obsession re-surfaced during an emotionally vulnerable time. I was married for two years and had my first baby. The newness of having a newborn had run its course. The financial pressure of adulting with a mortgage and unpaid maternity leave left me no choice but to be back at work in 10 weeks.
I had just stopped breastfeeding/pumping and the hormonal-fluctuations resulted in giant eruptions on my chin. My body…that awful in-between phase of maternity clothes and regular clothes. Nothing fit right and I felt uncomfortable, bloated, and fugly. My wardrobe consisted of stained tops and a choice of either cameltoe khakis or muffin-top black pants. I wanted to hide.
All this combined with running on 3 hours of sleep and the fluorescent lighting of the emergency room where I worked; left me feeling real attractive.
To make matters worse, my husband and I were working opposite schedules to be home with our son. We slowly became disconnected, sleep-deprived roommates.
Meanwhile, a single, energetic, childless guy started training in our department who was extremely witty and funny. I was shadowing this guy to make sure he was performing the psychological assessments correct. The patient we were evaluating lived in Reseda, Illinois. The guy says to me:
âI never heard of Reseda Illinois. I thought it was in LA. I only know that because of Karate Kid. âOh you have a date? With whoommm? Not that boy from Reseda.â
My eyes widened and without thinking I replied, âYeah Dad, heâs from Reseda.â Then I nervously laughed, blushed, & started to sweat.
“Yea whoop dee do. You want me to do cartwheels or something?”
Suddenly, my KK repressed self was unleashed. I could not stop. I couldnât remember the last time I laughed like this or felt so alive. We continued this banter the rest of the evening; driving my other co-workers nuts. Walking to my car that night, physically exhausted, but mentally, I am was in the best mood. I felt like âmeâ again.
At the time, I thought he put me in the best mood, but in reality, he just made me feel comfortable to be myself without pretending.
Sometimes joking isnât about making fun of someone, itâs about making fun of a situation to disconnect ourselves from whatever uncomfortable emotion it creates in us.
This guy had the ability to connect with anyone, he had everyone laughing. However, I started getting jealous, wanting his attention. (Donât judge me, when youâre dying of thirst in the desert, you donât care who gives you the water.)
However, since I had not felt this type of connection in so long, I continued to make awkward attempts to keep it alive. Thankfully I got the hint eventually and knocked it off.
In hindsight, I did not recognize how disconnected I was from myself, my values and my pain. This having-babies-rite-of passage is a huge adjustment. The more I tried to âpretendâ I had it all together to avoid feeling the shame; the more I kept myself in this vicious cycle. Kinda like Daniel LaRusso, who likes to blame the school, his bike, his mom, and moving to LA on his current situation.
Itâs not about the bike asswipe
Most recently, this movie came up again last year when my son went on his first date. At the time, I didnât realize it was a first date because my son kept saying they were âjust friendsâ. When I picked her up, I witnessed how the two of them were interacting… Unfortunately, this revelation unfolded in slow motion in my brain; …omg my son is…a GUY.
Flashbacks of my son and I holding hands, snuggling on the couch began to flash before my eyes. My little boy is gone. In the middle of this bittersweet epiphany, the girl’s dad came to the car door to meet me. I behaved like a complete fool, a total awkward nerd. I turned into Lucille LaRusso and I had no control.
Lucille was a damn good mom.
Anyways, I have accepted my siblings and myself are weirdos. I love this about us.
In our defense, we have a good reason. Our memorization of KK wasnât a typical situation. The Karate Kid was part of our daily routine.
You see, our brother, was non-verbal and wheelchair bound. After he got home from school, there was not much he could do but watch or listen to TV. So this movie was playing continuously in the background. My youngest sister would sit in her playpen eating melba toast and my brother would lay on floor and they would watch this movie (and The Muppets) together almost everyday. It was so cute that we would sit with both of them and watch it, again.
Despite our age difference, this movie connected all of us.
My Mom & Johnny
In spite of my brotherâs limitations, his stellar personality and sense of humor shined through. Our brother, Johnny, would have this smirk on his face while watching KK.
Over time, we noticed a pattern in what Johnny found the funniest. He laughed the hardest when people were loud, yelling, angry or sniffling/crying. When I say laugh, I mean he displayed that shaking-silent-laughing-so-hard giggle.
One time I was crying about some nonsense, sniffling. My brother erupted with the laughing. I wanted to tell him to shut up, which is funny in itself. I stopped crying and started laughing too. This was the first time I recognized the irony of his reactions. There seemed to be a deeper, non-verbal message he was trying to communicate.
“Iâm laying here on the floor, I canât walk, talk or feed myself. What the hell are you crying for? Get some real problems”. -Johnny Durnell
Johnny passed away from respiratory failure on July 21, 1999 at the age of twenty.
I suppose repressing The Karate Kid is also like repressing the grief and all the uncomfortable emotions that go along with grief. Guilt, anger, despair, resentment, etc. feelings I don’t want to feel.
Trust your gut Johnny, ignoring those feelings. will only hurt you in the end
What these three examples have taught me is that the story I told myself kept me stuck. How repressing these emotions can result in HUGE mistakes if caught in an irrational, raw, vulnerable place.
The most difficult part of our stories is often what we bring to themâwhat we make up about who we are and how we are perceived by others. Yes, maybe we failed or screwed up, but what makes that story so painful is what we tell ourselves about our own self-worth and value.
Brene Brown
Thinking or talking about The Karate Kid makes me think of my brother, my childhood, and what this movie triggers inside me. It brings me joy, but it makes me feel pain in my heart. This movie unleashes a floodgate of all emotions.
If I want to feel, I have to feel it all. You canât âshow upâ and âhideâ at the same time.
Alcohol is a slippery slope, especially with trying hard to numb & repress grief. It is a band-aid that works at first, then it just makes it worse. Sleep deprivation, hormones, poor self-worth, disconnection contribute to an irrational & vulnerable state of mind. My coworker caught me at a weak moment emotionally and unknowingly made me feel safe by bringing up this movie. The connection felt euphoric because I blocked my story for so long.
If you wonât allow yourself to feel the sadness, anger, shame, grief and pain; you will also deny yourself the feelings of love, joy, growth and happiness.
Owning our stories means acknowledging our feelings and wrestling with the hard emotionsâour fear, anger, aggression, shame, and blame. This isnât easy, but the alternativeâdenying our stories and disengaging from emotionâmeans choosing to live our entire lives in the dark. It means no accountability, no learning, no growth.
If you know anyone who displays any of the criteria below, please share this with them. If you identify with three or more of these criteria; you could be at risk for a scorching case of gout, eventual renal failure, diabetes, high blood pressure or chronic health problems soon or later in life: đ
Southside Guy Lifestyle
1. Chronically dehydrated: Makes statements like: “There is water in coffee.â âBeer is made with water..Duh.â đ Wakes up, showers, drinks a giant coffee or energy drank (not water first). He starts the day dehydrated. Continues to drink caffeine all day because âIâm fn tiredâ. Does not believe irritability/agitation is from caffeine or a symptom of dehydration. Truth: Everyone should drink atleast half their body weight in water. Exercise, sweating, alcohol and caffeine delete water intake.
2. Perpetually Sleep-Deprived: âUnwindsâ in bed looking at phone, not realizing the blue light in phones, computers, & TV diminishes the production of melatonin-the sleep hormone. (Reading a book, magazine, newspaper for 10 minutes instead is a better choice.) He may feel tired & fall asleep fine but may experience middle-night awakening or still feels exhausted when alarm goes off. Hitting snooze 3-4 times causing a new sleep cycle to begin which leads to sleep inertia- grogginess for 2-4 hours after sleeping 10 more minutes. However, he is not tired when a big game is on (so bizarre how the energy emerges đ
4. No-Time To Exercise: Exercise consists of being âactiveâ at work and âon feet all dayâ. Wonât exercise for months, perhaps years, and then goes balls out playing at the parish softball tournament. This leads to not being able to use his arms for weeks. He may decide impulsively to âget-in-shapeâ and go from zero to a hundred playing basketball with the guys, lifting too much too soon. Has to stop again to recover from a torn Achilles heel, back injury, tear in his ACL or meniscus. Truth: Five to ten minutes a day adds up over time. There are countless videos on you tube for five to 10 minute workouts. This podcast guest stars a doctor who provides realistic tips: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-marie-forleo-podcast/id1199977889?i=1000489694098
5. Thinks DAD-BOD is Inevitable: When an old buddy emerges looking DILF and cut due to exercising and eating clean, he accuses friend of doing a cleanse or having surgery. He may call this DILF names like âsoy boyâ or âcream puffâ. *Jokes that he is doing a MEAT-CLEANSE. Believes bacon, pepperoni & salami are sources of protein. Does not pay attention to sodium intake until he is ordered to by a physician or is already on medication. May unknowingly consume 4000mg sodium in a day. May blame his wifeâs cooking is why he looks like he is holding his breath all the time. Tip: Limit sodium to 1500mg a day for women. 2000-2500mg for men *Check with doctor about recommended sodium intake for your size.
6. Vitamin-Deficient: His Mindset=Vitamins, minerals & rest are only when you become sick – not as a preventative measure. Low vitamin D lowers immune system. We cannot rely solely on the sun for Vitamin D – especially in the Midwest. He may believe vitamins are a waste of money because you just âpee vitamins outâ. (We actually absorb what we need and pee the rest out). May only consider Flintstones vitamins because thatâs what he took as a kid.
7. Underestimates how bad stress/burnout impacts the body, mind, & libido đł: Too much to write on this topic. Listen to this podcast for better understanding- amazing!! https://brenebrown.com/podcast/brene-with-emily-and-amelia-nagoski-on-burnout-and-how-to-complete-the-stress-cycle/. Indications: May have continued to work or watch a baseball/football game while having a heart attack. âI thought it was heart burnâ. Will limp through work for 3-4 weeks with a torn ligament or serious injury. SS Boy Mindset= âIf you are hurt, you donât get workâ. However, the cold or flu- (God forbid a fever) -will literally knock him out of commission for days. He may also experience constant muscle tension, insomnia, or explosive rage episodes about minor things out of his control.
8. SKEPTICAL OF EVERYTHING HE DIDNâT SURVIVE THROUGH: He may begin sentences like this: âThis is a crock of shitâ…insert skeptic comment. SS Boy mindset Examples: âFood allergies did not exist when we were kidsâ âWe didnât wear helmets when riding bikes, wtf my kid is not a nerd.â âI never wear sunscreen, I burn then I tan. I need a base. I have always been like thisâ. & âOrganic, Grass-Fedâtsk all is a load of crap.â However, he is not skeptical about new modern developments & research that improve experiences such as: pausing live TV, fast-forwarding through commercials and yoga pants*.
*Only likes when women wear yoga pants but thinks yoga is weird & only for women. Meditation is a nap, scrolling on phone or watching ESPN
9. Does not pay attention to sugar content:. White refined Sugar is in almost everything and everyone needs to work on managing sugar intake even if you do not have diabetes..https://youtu.be/bKG1JNq7RyM
10. Chases happiness: Looks externally for sources of happiness instead of internally for joy. Instead of cherishing, enjoying & accepting what IS right now; they are always wishing things were different. Fixed on glory days in the past (trigger for depression). How it will be in the future (trigger for anxiety). Instead of staying in the present. The present is a gift. If you Always wanting more, you will never be satisfied.. âIf we just had more money we would be happy.â âIf we had a bigger house, we would be happy.â Once it happens and the happiness âdoesnât comeâ you either become disappointed, give up or keep chasing. By doing this, you MISS life that is happening now.
Just some tips đ to improve lifestyle, overall health and to strengthen the immune system. See disclaimerđđ»
Thirsty for more info: Sone extras that are on point:
During my time as an ER crisis worker, I was written up at least once a year for accumulated tardies.
I have also been put on levels for mistakes I made.
I am one of two individuals in the history of my department that was on a âlevelâ. (Level three is termination.) How unfair right!?
Back story: When I first started, I got so mad about a PTO policy that changed; I impulsively went straight to the CEO. đđŹ Soon after, I began to receive levels for âminorâ mistakes.
Upon receiving this level, I went into full-on JED mode (justify, explain, defend) a.k.a JJM (JOLIET JAKE MODE) to my boss.
I was FURIOUS at her audacity because I had stayed late the night before!
HOW DARE SHE!?
How dare THEY!!!â
I then exclaimed, âIt was 7:01! Canât you let this slide?â (What about the other six late clock-ins? đ€)
I pissed and moaned about it to my coworkers.
One day, a nurse in another department candidly told me âIâve been on a level before. You know what? Itâs just to help you learn. Itâs not like a jail sentence.â
When I stopped blaming, I was able to see clearly what I did wrong and how I need to change. I DESERVED the LEVEL.
This level was about a choice I made.
This level was about a mistake I made.
My justification that itâs âno big dealâ or my valid reasons for committing this violation does not matter.
It is a rule, policy, procedure etc. and I broke it. PERIOD.
I needed to THINK.
I needed to THINK, With MY BRAIN, Not the internet.
OWN IT. Learn from it. Accept. Admit. I.was.wrong.
I needed to feel the pain and shame of the consequences in order to change.
I preferred to âget in troubleâ individually than have my whole team suffer for my mistake, my ignorance, and my stupidity.
Just as I HATED it when I was a kid and we lost recess because of the one asshole who wouldnât stop talking. I never wanted to be that kid.
I didnât want to be that coworker.
Takin one for the team.
This âdumbâ rule and itâs âunfairâ consequences is to prevent much bigger mistakes from occurring in the future.
I attended a mandatory re-training, with clear concise examples and the consequences if not followed-ahead of time. Also annual trainings to keep this fresh in our mind.
Oh and remember how I went straight to the CEO when I wanted to have a tantrum about what I didnât like? I learned to follow the chain of command. It is there for a reason. I get it…now. If I didnât make those mistakes, perhaps I wouldnât have.
Do I deserve to lose my pension because I made some bad choices?
Should my entire department lose their pension because of my mistake?
Speaking of losing pensions, here is another authoritative tale where I believed I was right…This is in regards to the countless tickets I have received for speeding, failure to come to a complete stop at a red light prior to turning right, and blowing red lights.
After my violation, I would respectfully hand over my insurance card and license to the police officer with a sweet, innocent smile. Sometimes, in a vain attempt to get out of the ticket, I may have flirted a little.
This manipulative behavior on my part would be dismissed with a ânice tryâ nod or a wink as if to acknowledge the effort. Then the police officer did their job by handing me the ticket.
Later, while attending court to fight this outlandish claim: I smiled, apologized and respectfully presented my case.
After all, I had VALID reasons why!!!
However, deep down I knew the truth.
I wasnât truly sorry….I was sorry because I got caught. Perhaps this ONE time I may have been right; but what about was 27 other times I made the same mistake and didnât get caught.
I was only sorry for my behavior because it hit me where it hurt. đ° đŽ â° I could not afford the consequences.
Therefore, I was not GENUINELY sorry, but feeling sorry for myself.
After my presentation at court, you know what the police officer or judge would reply 97% of the time? Something like:
âYou werenât even close.âđđ
I didnât get out of it.
I didnât have a tantrum. I didnât persuade anyone in powerful positions that âI knowâ to get me out of it.
I was stuck with the consequences as I should be.
I paid the $200 fine. I went to traffic school. I drove more cautiously to avoid future infractions. I learned to stop the behavior.
Should I have gotten a lower fine because Iâm a woman?
Should I have gotten a lower fine because women earn less than men?
Would a man have gotten out of this?
Was I just pulled over because I am a female?
Was I written up because I am a female?
I donât know all the answers but Iâm leaning toward a hard NO. My point is, we are all humans and make mistakes. I can at least own my part. Shouldnât we all?
Some make worse mistakes than others and those individuals need to receive their appropriate consequences.
We still ALL EQUALLY need consequences to continue to learn and function in society. Yes, of course there are racist and sexist people in this world; but there are many more who are not.
What happened to accountability?
I knew the rules and I still chose to break them.
I am aware if I commit a serious crime, I go to jail. No getting out of it. I respect my freedom so I obey the law. (See below for Chris Rock- obey the law skit)
I DO NOT deserve special treatment because I am a woman.
Regardless of what any of us think of our previous president, he is human too. One person cannot be held responsible for everything. There is a LONG chain of command that is also accountable. We NEED Many LEADERS! Like thousands!
I may not KNOW a lot of things but one thing I do believe for sure is that BOB (Esai Morales) from La Bamba is one BADASS mother fucker. He has to be THEE coolest and most captivating actor on the planet.
He should have won an OSCAR for best supporting actor for his performance; (Esai Morales) truly MADE the movie.
He literally SEDUCES the audience.
That being said, what I find most ironic is that no matter what he did or said, I still liked his character. I thought he was hilarious, I still do. What is even more puzzling, is that he is a complete dick.
(Side note: Esai also appeared on Ozark for a season or two- I was immediately entranced. )
As a woman, I completely identify with Rosie. As a mother and wife, I empathize with how she feels; I hate how she is treated by Bob. What was also puzzling is that she ANNOYED me. đ
I can actually feel her pain, grief, & confusion. You can see it written on her face. The âwait…wtf-just-happened?â face. The âhow-in-the-hell-did-I-end-up-hereâ face. She displays this facial expression the majority of the movie. We all know that face.
This puzzled faceâđ»The âRosieâ face.
We all know that feeling: When you realize youâve been had. You got screwed over. The worst part about it, the majority of it was your own doing. You assumed. ASS-U-ME.
I get how she assumed as well. Any woman in a could easily fall into Bobâs trap; especially the married ones. Bobâs seductive allure could have wise woman entranced in his spell: After Bob flirts with you: Huh? What kids? What husband? You donât have a job you say? Ballsy. HotâŠYou drink every day? Wild & crazy. You live in your momâs trailer? Sounds cozy. Humina Humina đđ„°đ
I am embarrassed to admit this, but I remember thinking: Awwww just leave him alone Rosie.. itâs your own fault you got yo self knocked up…
âđ»This is the work of the devil.đđ»
I STILL liked him after that horrible, disrespectful and honest statement by Bob. Like âDayyyuuumm.â Why?
I am an educated & wise woman, yet I still like Bob. Wtf!? How come? 1. Clearly excellent acting by Esai Morales 2. Amazing directing
However, I am not satisfied with this. Inquiring minds want to know!!!
I was concerned with my reaction when I watching this movie recently. When the mother, Connie Valenzuela, minimized Bobâs cartoonist abilities and reminded him that he is about to become a father, I thought: Jeez Connie, buzzkill, what did you have to go and do that for!? Why donât you get out of Richieâs ass and pay attention to poor Bob.He is trying. POOR BOB
Poor Bob: your womanizing, chauvinistic, selfish, entitled, immature, unemployed, alcoholic, manipulative, man-baby-son who just was released from prison.đ€ (Bob sounds like a real catch on paper doesnât he?đ€„đ)
Idle hands are the devilâs workshop; idle lips are his mouthpiece.Proverbs 16
From a biological & genetic standpoint, Bob does what Bob does best. Bob is a an alpha male who is genetically predisposed to flock his sexy shit to attract females. Bob does whatever possible to get laid; ultimately procreating more human beings to populate the earth. (Biology 101: It is vital for males to compete for reproduction and for females to choose between those competing males.
If a member of the opposite sex finds your tail, your song, or your dance moves sexy, you will have a chance to fulfill your primary biological role as a member of your species: to reproduce.
This is âBobâsâ âprimary biological roleâ aka his job and he rocks it. He got Rosie pregnant so now he needs to âmove onâ and to do this again.
Itâs not his faultâŠyet. (Please donât get angry, hear me out;)
From a biological/genetic standpoint, Bob is doing his job. He behaves how all maleanimals act. Bob is genetically predisposed to be what humans would consider âan assholeâ.
The problem is, he also doesnât know any better. No one has taught him otherwise. No one has had the chance to teach Bob to step above his biological urges.
Please donât cause him to feel inadequate by making him have to THINK.
Donât make him feel like a failure by asking him to have COMPASSION or EMPATHY? That is NO FUN.
What a DRAG it is getting old.
What would cause a human being to behave this way? Or to treat women this way?
Bobâs True Story & my psychological interpretationđ:
Just like Rosie, Connie also hooked up with a bad boy at a young age and got herself impregnated. The hot, sexy biological father took off.
I know you âlove himâ Rosie, but unless you want to cook dinner on his motorcycle…
Connie then met someone else (Steve) and Connie married Steve when Bob was two years old. Steve loved Bob and treated him as his own. Steve and Connie then had a child together, Ritchie. Ritchie was a reflection to Connie what she did right=Ritchie=golden boy. However, Bob was a reminder of her bad decisions.
Connie, Steve, Bob & Ritchie were doing well together for a while. Bob assumed Steve was his biological father and Bob loved him.
In an interview, the real Bob Morales states his life took a bad turn when he was 14 and his parents (Connie & Steve) separated.
âI moved in with my mom while Ritchie went with my dad. One day I told my mom that I wanted to live with my dad and and thatâs when my aunt told me âWhy do you want to go with him if heâs not even your real father.âBob Morales
Despite Steve conveying to Bob that he loved him as his own son, the shock devastated Bob. Also, it was horrible timing for Bob to find this out because soon after this discovery, Bob began high school.
Bob was getting into fights frequently so he stopped attending. Instead he gave money to the homeless nearby who would buy him alcohol.
While his now single-mom was working two jobs, Bob was not going to school and had no structure all day, no guidance, no direction=idle time which is the DEVILâs playground.
Therefore, Bob ended up going to a detention center from age 12-17! Connie, his mother, signed him over as a ward of the state. He did not see his family that entire time he was locked up.
đđ»Bob’s inner child translation: Go Fuck yourself Connie. I will never let a woman hurt me again.
The first time Bob saw his mother or Ritchie in years; was the day of Steveâs funeral. Which also means he didnât get to say goodbye to Steve or to grieve properly.
Bob learned to adapt to his lonely life by becoming the life of the party. He learned how to get what he needed by finding comfort in women and selfishly move on. This probably soothed his resentment toward his mother for while, but then he felt guilty; so he drank the pain away.
Of course he was jealous of Ritchie. Ritchie got his Dad and his Mom. He got nobody.
The point is that all of US are capable of evil depending on what we are exposed to.
I thought of this blog when I was about to bitch at my son for not cleaning up the mess he made after making quesadillas. I realized that I canât assume he knows how. I’m not going to shame him like Connie. (Wtf is wrong with you? Think like a woman) Instead, I showed him how clean it up. I EDUCATED him on what I want. I told him that this is what I expect. I didnât talk to him like he was stupid. I thanked him for making his own food. I didnât clean it up for him. This is the only way they learn.
Mothers: We cannot assume that our sons are just going to know how to treat women when theyâre older. We cannot assume that their Dadâs are going to teach them either. Most Dads are working their ass off and are never home. (Probably chasing tail đ not knowing why. Kidding!đ€Ș)
We have to teach OUR SONS what WE want from them so they can learn how to GIVE this to their future partners. We need to teach them about affection, connection, friendship, compatibility, respect, and the long term.
We have to teach them that this may be a biological urge to continue to chase women and populate the world, HOWEVER, we are not animals. Reality: kids are expensive AF.
It costs a lot of time, money, energy to raise a human child properly into a respectable adult.
We need to teach them that human females can be hot and smart. Women can be attractive, fun, brilliant, and confident. We have to teach them, not ASSUME, that a Human FEMALEâS purpose is not only to populate the world.
Itâs Biology Rosie- I’m kidding! You can have both!
We also have to teach our daughters: What they tolerate will become their future. Being a victim will not get you anywhere.
Itâs OUR job to ALSO teach the FUTURE MEN of this world these skills. We need to teach them how to love unconditionally. Parents need to be a TEAM.
There is a chapter in this book on how we âgo easyâ on our sons because we donât think they can manage it all and are tougher on our daughters đ
When I win my Oscar for best screenplay and give my speech; I would love to say âand last of all, Iâd like to thank my husband for not giving a shit.â
Despite how it sounds, I mean this in a good way. By his ânot giving a shitâ or being âtoo tired right nowâ is actually helpful. My anger at him forces me to figure it out myself.
When I do, my self-esteem sky rockets. I am no longer mad at him because I am too empowered; but not in a self-righteous kind of way. Like in a âmen and women are equalâ way.
In the heat of a debate. We Both stubborn AF
Whenever I ask my husband for help, it is like an imaginary tennis match. He takes his pretend racket (tongue-on-roof-of-mouth-click-sound effect) and he just hits that request right back to me. My rebuttal (tongue-click) back to him. The longer I debate, the longer the match. Kinda like this: https://www.instagram.com/p/B-e3V7MDtMi/?igshid=z3swsvcatt03
I hate asking for help and Iâm not a damsel-in-distress type of chic. I do not need or want to be taken care of or to be saved. (It does feel nice to think about it, perhaps my stubborn pride gets in the way.) When he does offer suggestions or the ârightâ way of doing things; he is met with a straight up tirade of obscenities from me. Therefore, deep down, I really do not want help.
Or…I would rather do it myself than deal with this:đđ»
My husband after getting rid of yellow jacket nest đđ»
My old man is the most tired man in America; he works three jobs; so itâs understandable why he is exhausted. However, it was kinda weird that he was able to stay up through rain delays until 1:45am when the Cubs won the World Series. Miraculously, he was still able to get up for work at 5am the next day. But…thatâs another story…đ
Anyways, I get that heâs tired; which is why I cannot expect much from him. They say having no expectations leaves you pleasantly surprised right? My expectations are so low itâs kinda like when someone goes out for a pack of cigarettes and doesnât come back. đ When show back up, you are pleasantly surprised.
So I live my life expecting him not to come back, but he keeps showing back up to sleep, eat and watch sports here so now what? đ
I work full time as well and handle everything at home with kids such as an being an Unpaid Uber driver, bank teller, chef, grocery shopper , scheduler, drama processor… Iâm TIRED!….
I know that he knows itâs difficult at home and more difficult than what he does because my situation is unpredictable. He will never admit it. Raising kids/teens is not black and white how he prefers. I hate things that are black and white except movies. Being at home with kids plus working is all mutha-effin gray. You never know what youâre going to get.
Anyways, back to our most recent endeavor. About a month ago, our washing machine stopped working. Itâs a LG High Efficiency washer, equipped with smart diagnosis. This means that I can connect my IPhone to the washer and it can diagnose whatâs wrong. My washer continued to display âIEâ. He has an Android, I have an iPhone which probably contributed to his feelings of inadequacy. đ
For every insult, thereâs a counter insult. No one ever wins. đ
In the manual, âIEâ means that you have to clean out the water inlet valve, the Manual says to clean inlet valve monthly. I know we have NEVER done this. So I asked my old man to do it. He didnât feel like fixing it right now which led to the âtennis matchâ.
While sitting on the couch, he told me to call the repairman we used for the dishwasher. The woman who answered the phone asked me what was wrong and I told her.
But what are you doing right now Floyd?
She replied, âYea, that Washing machine brand isnât the greatest. That code means you need to clean out the water inlet valveâ. I said âLike I know what that is or how to do that, thats why Iâm calling you.â (Whorebag, in my head)
So she calls me back and said she can get me in on Saturday between 12pm-4pm.
Me: âUmmm thatâs four days from now, you have nothing sooner?â Whorebag: âNope. Mmm-mmm. No. We will call you the day before AND the morning of to confirm.â
Me: âOk, thanksâ (In head: âDont you condescend me, man. Iâll fuckin kill you man.)đđ»
I confirmed the service call from the know-it-all, condescending lady on Friday night and Saturday morning. We go out to breakfast to do something together since he is going to work and I have to be home by noon for repair man.
I overeat carbs to feed my resentment.
So on my day off, in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, I have to wait. Me sitting on the couch, after a large, carby meal and doing nothing but waiting is not a normal situation and unfortunately, I fall asleep.
Three unanswered calls later from the fix it guy, I missed my repair window. His voicemail:
âYea, since you arenât answering the phone, I am not wasting a 20-minute trip since you are my only call out there today.â Me: Ew. Wasting his time? Who the hell does this guy think he is?
Off topic: True magician, Gary Oldman as the pimp Drexel Spivy
Me: (Furiously calling him back-but I get the awful lady đ«) Me: âI thought after I confirmed three times, he would just show up. I left a note on the front door for him to just come in. I missed his call but I have been here waiting.â
Know-It-All-Lady: âYea, no, heâs too busy. If you missed his calls, then we have to reschedule. Where were you anyway?â
Me: (wtf-now who does SHE think she is?) âWhere was I? I was home, sitting here waiting, doing nothing. I never do that so I fell asleep.â
Know-It-All-Lady: âYou fell Asleep???â
Now if my husband dozed off on the couch, this would completely accepted and understandable. For a woman to fall asleep-Unheard of. This woman should know how tired women are in general as a species; this is a complete betrayal.
Iâd rather die than have you fix my washing machine bitch
Me: âWell, I think itâs ridiculous that you guys make me wait four days for this appointment. Despite my confirming both calls and wait on my day off on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. His time is too valuable to drive here? Iâm sorry my shitty machine isnât worth his time. Iâll call another company.â She began to talk and hung up on her. (Damn that felt good)
So… I have had a hell of a time finding someone to fix this thing; but I REFUSE to call that company back. I really do not enjoy cleaning my cleaning appliances. đ
So, I swallowed my pride, watched some you tube how-toâs DIY fix it videos and did it.
Yea, I fixed it. It cost NOTHING. Iâm a bad ass. Iâm muthafuckin Charlie Bronsonđđ».
You a bad ass.
In the end, I know how to fix the washing machine. I know what a water inlet valve is and what a pair of pliers is. I donât need him to admit that I’m a bad ass. Iâm not even mad anymore. The irrational thoughts have left and Iâm left with realizing this was about a stupid, replaceable washing machine. As much as I hate his guts in the moment, I realize now Iâm doing the same thing he is doing. Everything I say about him, he could say about me. He handles stuff that I donât think about. I donât give a shit either. đ
The big picture.
However,đđ»Admitting it is sexy, I hope men donât wait until they are this old to see the truth.
Off topic: See the best of Floyd: I still laugh 18 years later
We had a 13th birthday party for my daughter last week; decided to make it an 8th grade kick off as well. This means we invited the whole class, all genders, hoping the class would possibly get along…together. (This class has not worked since day one.) We also rented a dunk tank assuming this should be a hit; and perhaps they would forget they canât stand each otherđ.
My daughter kept warning me about the boys, she said âMom, they have no consideration for anyone but themselves.â (Probably repeating what she had heard year after year from the teachers.)
I was getting the yard (arena) ready the night before. I ripped a piece of shipping tape off the side of the pool (kids tried to ghetto-ly hang some rope lights next to the filter. đ) Suddenly, I feel a sharp, shooting, burning pain on side of my head. I thought for a second I electrocuted myself. Then I see a wasp flying around. I look under pool edge and there is a giant a yellow jacket nest.
I considered spraying it and removing it myself. However, when I googled what to use, it strongly advised not to do this alone. Then found some websites for bee removal services and âSwarm removal.â đŹ (Usually, I would ignorantly underestimate the situation and fearlessly proceed. Then I had a momentary flashback of THE HUNGER GAMESâ tracker jacker scene and….it is 2020.
The hive has probably been there all summer. Adults & kids have been here swimming almost daily; no one saw it or got stung. I email some of these services, receive some prices and then they explain this is a 3 step process that needs to start at dusk .
The party begins in 14 hours, there wonât be time for someone to do all these steps. I hope, pray and assume no one will see the hive. I am then distracted by a past winner, âHaymitchâ who graciously drops off a cooler of Gatorade and cookies.
Good luck…
12pm: I notice on my phone the temperature outside is a perfect 84 degrees; I look out the window, not a cloud in the sky. The most perfect day. Despite the temperature on my smart phone, stepping outside is a different story. As I slowly slide the door open, I am hit with a humidity blast that feels like 110 blazing degrees.
I am pouring with sweat setting up the bean bag boxes and volleyball net. I stop to wipe the sweat from my brow that is stinging my eyes. As a stand still, I feel the sun searing through my sun-screened, pale af, freckled, perimenopausal skin.
12:30pm: Most of the âtributesâ have arrived. The girls remain on the deck, staring wide-eyed at the boys who are violently shoving each other into the pool and holding each other underwater. The floats are mangled and destroyed within seconds. The girls remain shocked & terrified; unsure if they should enter the pool or get blistered in the sun.
1pm: The dunk tank has been delivered. As I am pulling our hoses to fill the tank, I hear âItâs a Yellowjacket!â âOmg thereâs a yellow jacket nest!â âAwesome!!!â
To my horror, all the boys are now surrounding the backside of the pool armed with bean bags, a ball, whiffle bats, and a broom (where the hell did he even find that?) Immediately, I demand they drop their weapons and step away from the hive.
âYou guys are going to get stung!â I exclaim. The boys playfully reply, âNo we wonât!â Or âWe donât care!â I try another tactic: âWould you care if I record you and send to your parents?â Most freeze and give that you-wouldnât-dare-look. I glare back at themđđ».
All except one take the bait and retreat. The last is still laughing maniacally as he is shoving the broomstick into the heart of the tracker jackers lair. I remove the broom from the boy, he mopes away with his head down, temporarily defeated.
1:30pm: I witness the girls still standing on the deck with their mouths hanging open. I gently encourage the girls to go in the pool while boys are out. Thankfully, âPeetaâ shows up with lunch!
While kids are eating, I hide the âweaponsâ in the basement. Then I hear a loud, thumping sound. I run outside and see a heckling boy sitting on the dunk tank seat. The boys have already begun throwing balls at the dunk tank target. The Problem is there is only one inch of water in it. I envision a Tom & Jerry episode (pic below).
Before I plummet into debt from a kid requiring extensive dental work or sustaining an injury in the empty tank; I completely over-react with a loud, shrilling, scream. Everyone looks at me, stunned. *Side note: My reaction is amplified due to the dunk tank manual boldly stating SEVERE injury should occur if dunk tank is not full or âdamage to the tank will result in responsible parties assuming cost of repair.âđ±đ
đđ»Me: Visualizing myself having to listen to my husbandâs lecture about adulting and âdunk tank repairâ is not being financially responsible. đ
2pm: I regained composure and tell the kids how high the water needs to be in the tank before they can use it. I assured them I have three hoses going and it should be full in 20 minutes. This answer pacified them and the boys retreat back into the pool, while sporadically antagonizing the bees. I notice The grass around the pool is flooded (Tick Tock Tidal Wave).
2:14pm âSomeoneâs been stung!â I hear repeatedly by numerous girls. (Tick Tock Tracker Jackers)
As I am searching for a sting antidote in my closet, I remember something important from my kids toddler years.. At every playdate, it was chaos the first two hours; then magically the kids started to get along. The kids had to get used to and adjust to having another kid around. Epiphany: That is what is happening now! The two hour mark is in 15 minutes!
Stung tribute…Donât say I didnât warn ya kid.
I walk down the stairs and find the entire floor from the back door to the front is soping wet. I am blindsided with a smell of stove gas & wet dog combined with sewage. My daughter is shaking her head at me. I ask her, âFor the love of God, what is that smell?â (Tick Tock: Poisonous gas) My daughters glares at me with contempt, that âmom-youâre-so-dumbâ look.
âMom! I told you this would happen! All the boys smashed into the bathroom and locked the door so we couldnât use it! They donât wear deodorant! Then one of them took a big dump!â My daughter exclaims.
For once, the Covid mask comes in handy as I cover my nose & mouth. I locked the front & garage door to prevent numerous, wet entries and dried the floor. I tell my daughter, âThey are boys, they never hung out with you guys yet. They just need boundaries and limits; it will be okay. If not, they are leaving in 2 hours and we wonât have to do this again.â
âTwo more hours of this!? UGH!â She exclaims and stomps away.
2:30pm Some of other boys have now realized that there are girls present. âEffieâ shows up to help me (hallefuckinglujah!). We gather them all together to take a group picture. Immediately following the flash, the boys simultaneously charge at the girls, pushing them into the pool. The girls nervously laugh and Effie and I shrug in unison; âAt least they are all in the pool together.â
The dunk tank is full. The girls huddle and watch the boys heckle, whips balls at the bullseye and dunk each other. This contained, organized activity has seemed to spark the interest of all parties. The boys surprisingly organize themselves into a line and take turns throwing and being dunked. I overhear one of the more advanced thinkers of the group (who has sisters đ), âArenât we going to let the girls have a turn?â
With two other moms present to supervise, I take this opportunity to escape. I had some lunch, cooled down in the AC and changed my clothes. The fear-induced âhallucinationsâ begin to subside and I have an epiphany.
My yard is the âarenaâ and the arena in a CLOCK! Just like in Catching Fire! Itâs just a GAME! Stop giving a fuck and just play the game!!!
3pm: I look outside at the âarenaâ. I see âEffieâ & âPeetaâ sitting on lounge chairs with their feet up. To my surprise, some of the kids are either playing bean bags together or making a whirlpool. What…the…
Toddler to Teen mindset: Every âplay dateâ takes two hours for the kids to get along. Thatâs just the way it is.
Haymitch shows up holding a 6-pack and provides some useful advice. We enjoy some cold, adult beverages as a team. We effin did it! It WORKED! We won!
I have a sip of the âadult elixirâ and experience another revelation… âThey are just kids! They are supposed to be assholes! Itâs our job to teach them to not be! They do not know how to play the game yet! We have to teach them how to play!â
Peeta organized the bean bag tournament. The kids all sat TOGETHER and watched each other play. I couldnât believe it. Haymitch periodically would make the kids stop and take cleaning breaks. They listened. It was an effin miracle! (A 2020 miracle …pssshhh. No way.)
The four of us are sitting around talking and laughing. Parents are starting to show up to pick up their kids; grateful for the long break from their kids after a five month quarantine.
My daughter whispers in my ear, âCan you text all the parents now before anyone else comes so everyone can stay later?â
âWhat!? I thought you couldnât wait until this was over? Remember you were frustrated there was two hours left?â Stay later?!? Sheâs hallucinating; musta been stung by a tracker jacker. I still almost fall out of my seat.
Daughter: âWell that was before. Itâs been SO fun. I never want it to end. Everyone wants to stay.â
âThey do?â
âYep. And…You. were. right. Mom.â
đđ»HO.LEE.SHIT. Was not expecting thatđđ»Me, Mom…was…right?. Tears of joy welled in my eyes.
Quillan Kelly-Dunn 