The Mysteries of Blogging

NaBloPoMo = National Blog Posting Month

It is the blogger's answer to NaNoWriMo = National Novel Writing Month.

It's officially hosted by BlogHer, but others also put together their own little NaBlo communities.

One such place is Yeah Write.

I mention them regularly. They're pretty cool.

Today is my second day contributing a post for Yeah Write's NaBloPoMo efforts.

It is Day 25. The home stretch.

My post is titled "The Mysteries of Blogging".

I was recently asked:

Blogging is a mystery to me. Do you do this as a profession? How does that work? Curious.

Part of my answer:

Read the rest at Yeah Write!

Let's be honest, shall we?

Last week I wrote a post about my stupid PTSD and anxiety. Again. For the umpteenth time.

In the days following my accidental publishing of said post, I did a lot of thinking.

A. Lot. Of. Thinking.

And I've come to a conclusion:

You cannot be 100% open and honest with another human being.

You might be able to be 99% open and honest with ONE person in your life. But the rest? Notsomuch.

And you still have to hold back 1% even from that person.

Because here's the thing:

There are simply things in life, things we feel and things we think, that we have to hold all on our own.

This is apparently something that is a Life Lesson for me. I have not been understanding of this thus far.

I don't think I'm being cynical. Cynicism doesn't look good on me.

Hi, does this cynicism make my butt look big?

Seriously, though. We love, we make connections, we spend time and "do life together". But at the end of the day, it's all you. It's you with your thoughts and feelings and struggles.

My husband is my person who can handle my 99%. I can express just about anything to Mark and know that he will, on some level, be understanding and loving.

The first biggest thing that makes me sad when I think of losing him to his illness is how it will affect our children. The second biggest thing that makes me sad is, for me, the loss of my person. If I lose Mark, I lose someone who gets me like no other.

It scares the hell out of me.

I've heard/seen/read (probably all of the above) that all human beings desire validation. For someone they turn to to say they hear you, they sympathize/empathize/understand/whatever.

That we're not alone in this big crazy world.

How any one of us could possibly feel alone on a planet with 7 billion other souls is beyond me! But it happens. We can feel isolated, like no one sees us.

And, I guess, that is something we have to carry sometimes. Sometimes another person can't help you carry your load, may even be sick of your load. It might feel like everyone is a bit of a "fair weather friend".

I'm thinking this is where that 1% that's all you comes in.

I mean, for what it's worth, this seems to be what this little emotional breakdown I've just had has shown me.

I must accept that I have to carry some of my shit on my own.

And I want to be proud of my ability to carry it, rather than feel like it's my Achilles heel.

Do you get what I'm saying?

Agree or Disagree?

TGIF: Erica M Edition

TGIF, bitches! Holla!

Wait. That's so not me. Imma dork. Sorry about that.

It's a guest post week and I've got a super cool, super supportive blogger here: Ms. Erica M. She is the head honcho over at the yeah write blogging community, which, as of late, has become a pretty big job. I wouldn't be surprised if she started charging membership fees!

Erica hasn't been doing much of her own blogging lately, but yes, she does write stuff too!

* * *

Those of you who know me understand just how cynical I am when it comes to using the word happy. I kinda don't believe there is such a thing as happiness. Especially when my 3-year-old is screaming at me to pass him the iPad that is three inches from where he's throwing this stupid tantrum over how Mommy won't pass him the iPad. This is a crazy life we all lead, and I'm not equipped for happiness. I'm more equipped for contentment, peace and quiet. Things not going wrong.


So Jennifer, even though your badge says to get my happy on, I'mma get my eh-things-are-going-okay on instead. I'm a terrible guest.


Things that give me contentment, peace and quiet:


1. My husband Q even when he's driving me crazy trying to make me happy. He buys stuff, he fixes stuff, he judges blog contests. When I was in my late-twenties, I had a journal detailing a list of 11 things I wanted in a man. I met Q about 10 years after writing the list, and he was all 11 things on the list and more, including the sexin' parts. I love him more than anything.


2. Even at their loudest and most irritating, I really do find contentment in my children. I'd been expecting them since I was eight years old, even accidentally predicting I'd have one with special needs. I remember thinking to myself in elementary school how awful it would be for some mentally challenged kid to have a neglectful parent and I was all like: God, if you give me one of those kids, I'd be the best mom to that kid ever. Uh, thanks, God, for listening to an 8-year-old, I guess. I'd also like to win the lotto when it's convenient for you.

3. Having disposable income in the bank. This happens rarely, which could explain my grumpiness.


4. Knowing that even without disposable income, my family is really one of the fortunate ones. We have everything we need and everyone is healthy. I think about Jennifer's husband Mark often, and those thoughts take me back to my own experience with my then-infant daughter Jordan in the hospital when we didn't know if she was gonna live through the night nearly every night for a week. This may explain why I buy her everything she asks for and why we don't have any disposable income. She is currently on her 15th iPhone. Fifteenth. The iPhone has been in existence only since 2008, y'all. She loses, she breaks, she upgrades. I do fuss at her for not doing her laundry as often as I'd like. Does that count as discipline? Here's hoping.


5. Travel. Doesn't happen very often anymore. See #3. But there's nothing like taking off my shoes in the airport, having my $20 moisturizer tossed by some over-zealous security dude and purchasing those crappy in-flight earphones because my earbuds are incompatible with the plane's stupid audio system. I also enjoy landing safely since I always always think I'm on the flight that's gonna crash. Flying should be much better now that I've discovered Xanax.


6. Evening cocktails


7. Mid-morning cocktails


8. HBO. I love premium cable channels. They are my new books.


9. Yelling at sports teams through the TV with Q. The Houston Rockets went on their NBA championship run while Jordan was an infant, and my mom and I must have scared Jordan half to death for a week. I didn't find out for years that brain-injured kids can have a sensitivity to noise. Uh, sorry, moo-moo. (I call Jordan moo-moo. Don't judge)


10. Writing. When I get the chance. It used to be short stories, then it was essays, now it's intros to weekly blogging challenges, but writing is writing, right?


Thanks, Jennifer, for having me. Many many blessings to you, Mark and your family.

* * *

I may not know Erica personally, but I get the feeling she IS happy, and just doesn't wanna jinx it. In fact, I think I'm a genius for asking her to be a guest for TGIF, and making her think about things that make her "content".

Who agrees with me?

You can find Erica at yeah write, and on Twitter, here and here.

Write up some HAPPY, grab the button and link up!

My Husband and My Dad

Mark and my Dad (Randy) are not just father-&-son-in-law.

They are really good friends, and have been from the start.

They are a lot alike.

What they say about a girl marrying a man similar to her father proved true in my case.

They both love motorcycles and great sounding, loud music.

I could maybe even say Mark married me for my Dad's speakers!

When we did our recent family photo shoot, my Dad met us at the park to check out what we were doing. Since he was there, I asked Jess to get a couple shots of the two of them.

The first picture is nice, but this second one just gets me.

You may not be able to see my Dad's eyes, but I know what's there.

He loves Mark very much. And I love that about him.

Not only does he love Mark, but he loves me and Mark together.

What we go through breaks my Dad's heart.

Sure, he can be all tough and matter-of-fact, "we'll deal with this too, hon."

But I know inside he's a big mushy ball of goo.

He can't fool me.

Probably because no matter how strong and steadfast I seem to be, I too am a big mushy ball of goo on the inside.

Linking up with By Word of Mouth on this Wordy Wordless Wednesday.

And with Yeah Write #51.

Daddy & Daughter

For several years now a Father-Daughter Valentine's Dance is held in our town. Two years ago Mark and Cami went. They both got all dressed up and posed for pictures. I think they were both a little nervous. Mark because he was taking his little girl to her first dance, and Cami because she was the center of attention.

Feel free to Pin this!

Camryn is her father's daughter, no doubt about it. He was the one who wanted to name her that, a girly-fied version of Cameron, which his mom had almost named him. The day she was born, it was very obvious who her daddy was. Upon seeing her for the first time, our priest said, "Well, she's definitely not the milk man's child!"

But it's more than a family resemblance. Cami is so much like her dad, right down to her ADD (although he was never diagnosed). And now, she seems to have gotten an interest in cooking from Mark. I am proud of their father-daughter relationship because I know it is so important for a girl to have that, especially as she gets older. I know when I was a young girl I thought my dad was the best guy in the world. I also thought I could marry him when I grew up. So funny, the things we think when we're little.

So I dedicate this month's Memories Captured, as well as today's Quotable Bits and this week's yeah write, to my husband and my daughter.