Full Disclosure?

Warning: This post definitely falls under the TMI category...

I keep coming back to the same question with this here blog thingy. Now, in my opinion, having a blog is a bit like having a memoir you publish whilst you are living it. You know, so you don't forget the good bits. (Unless, of course, you are like me and have and forget what you're doing in the time it takes to walk from one end of the house to the other, then you forget the good bits as you go, anyway.) There are problems with that theory, of course. Now, if you're like me and you have your very own anti-fan club, then anything you say will definitely be mangled and twisted into a weapon to use against you and those you love. Or there's the fact that while you may not have a problem with airing all your dirty laundry for the world to see, the people who are part of your daily life maybe don't want their lives exposed for all and sundry to see. And, of course, there are the readers who know you in the real world who maybe don't want to hear about your sexual exploits (hi, Mom) or see your naked pictures. But, dammit...You all (all two of my readers)have been warned many, many times...if you're still coming here, I refuse to be held responsible.

Why is this coming up again? Because for the first time in eight very long months, I've had sex. Glorious, uncomplicated, no strings sex. And it was awesome. It was exactly what I needed, without all the gory relationship crap that I really, really don't need. It reaffirms my belief that monogamous, committed relationships aren't for me. It was not awkward or weird and there are no expectations on either end. And you know what? I feel no guilt, no shame, no embarrassment. We both got exactly what we wanted out of the experience and said good night and went our separate ways.

I hesitated to say anything about it for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that I don't want to answer a lot of questions about this person, because while I genuinely care for this person, it's not the kind of caring that's going to lead to any kind of a relationship type thing. Even if I was in a place emotionally or logistically to have a relationship, this just wouldn't be going there. And hell, I really don't even know if it's going to happen again, well with this person, I mean...because sex will be happening again. Eight months was too long, I can't see hanging up my...erm...bits and pieces...at the very, very young age of 33.

It was healing, and refreshing and goddammit, life-affirming. I am still here, still someone besides a mom, besides a sister or a cousin or a friend. I'm a woman in my own right, and proud of it. And walking around with a bit of a cat who ate the canary smirk this week....

Back On the Couch...

Back in therapy. Trying to deal with my shit, look my crazy demons in the eyes, then lay them to rest once and for all. A lot of things precipitated the move, but the biggest thing has been the midget. Dealing with her diagnosis, trying to take care of her alone...frankly, I can't be up all night wrestling with a brain that torments me endlessly, I just don't have the time.

I hate this shit, I should mention. I hate looking my craziness full in the face and trying to make sense of it. I hate taking apart my mistakes to see the motivations behind them, and (big surprise) I hate admitting my mistakes. If I knew how to say...Hmmm..fucked up, okay, learn from it and move on, admitting my mistakes wouldn't be a problem. Because I don't mind admitting I'm a fuck up and a flake and a high strung nut case. I am all of those things, and I can say that easily and honestly without batting an eye. But the individual things that I have done, words I have said that hurt people, that sucks. Because I basically have two settings...Ignore and Obsess. So, either I put it out of my mind and act like it never happened, or I play it over and over in my mind, analyzing each and every second, thinking of all the things I could have, should have said or done instead. I torture myself and berate myself, and my worst enemy could not tear me down the way I do when I Obsess.

And, I hate having to be honest. Because in real life I'm rarely very honest about how I feel. I'm flippant and dismissive and sarcastic. Admitting that I'm sad or scared or lonely...I don't like to do that, but therapy doesn't work if you aren't honest.

In that vein...the honesty vein..I'm posting this video. It's one of my all time favorite songs, something that's been in constant rotation for years, off and on, and back on right now in a big way. The song is beautiful and amazing, but the video, with Robert Downey Jr. doing his hot, soulful broody thing, really just makes it. I wish I had written this song, it says everything...

Yeah, I'm That Liberal Freak...

The one that makes her own cleaners because store bought chemicals are bad for the earth. The one that watches "Ru Paul's Drag Race" with her 10 year old, and answers the same 10 year old's questions about sex and life with as much honesty as the midget can stand before she runs screaming "Eeew!!" The one that doesn't believe in any gods or follow any religions.

Latest adventure in liberalism? Homeschooling. No, not denim prairie dress wearing, putting GOD back in the curriculum homeschooling, but instead, I'm going to fill my midget's brain with all my nutcase liberal ideas and then turn her loose on the conservatives..Mwuhahaha...

Not really.

Kind of....

Actually, I'm just really tired of sending this kid to school all day and having her come home having learned very little. I'm tired of the fact that they spent an entire month on "Black History," but she can't name a single important leader in the Civil Rights movement. I'm frustrated with public education, that they don't read fantastic books like "Where the Red Fern Grows" or "Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry" anymore. I'm literally nauseated at the idea of my 10 year old, type 1 diabetic midget with ADD in a classroom with 40 other kids and 1 (nope, not a typo...that's 1) teacher.

Now, since I'm a broke-ass bitch, I had to go with an online charter school for my curriculum. I've heard a lot of good and a lot of bad about online charter schools, but I've looked over the curriculum, and it's so much MORE than what she's been getting in her "normal" school, that even though it's exactly what I'd have chosen myself, it's close enough, and I'll have enough freedom that I can add some things that I need her to know. I won't have to "unteach" her the sanitized version of history they are teaching kids these days. Because that shit pisses me off.

It's a lot of work, I know. If I was that mom, the one that could just let it go, the burden of time and energy and the fact that the midget and I will be together all day long every damn day would send me running for the hills. But, I'm not that mom. I'm not interested in being that mom, 'cause I'm that liberal freak...

Damn You, Diabetes!!!

That's the new tag line in our house. Often said with fist waving and mock anguish that is trying to chip away at the very real grief and fear this wretched disease invokes. Truthfully, we are holding up well here, and doing what we do best, which is to smile through our tears.

You know, I've spent years now listening to people tell me their stories about so-and-so, a friend of their mother-brother-father-aunt-cousin-firstgradeteacher who drank some magical fruit juice and cured whatever condition their mother-brother-father-aunt-cousin-firstgradeteacher had that I also have...And I thought I was frustrated with it before, but I've reached new depths of frustrations with the ignorance with which some people go through life, the way they repeat every insipid little snippet they ever hear. I've heard all the misinformation about my health issues and learned to smile and nod, but the mama bear in me has a hard time letting it go when someone insists they know what caused the midget's diabetes or that they heard of a "cure." And the one that gets me angriest is that she simply needs to cut out sugar and become more active and the diabetes will go away.

Now, admittedly, a month ago I didn't know a third or even a hundredth of what I know now, but I also knew that I didn't know it and would never presume to tell a parent of a child with a life threatening illness how to care for the disease, but some people think that a thirty second segment they half-assedly remember from a news program a month ago gives them the right to tell me that my daughter will be "fine." And that shit makes me want to stab them.

Let's get something clear here. Yes, I am aware that compared to even just 10 years ago, the treatment options for type 1 diabetes have improved exponentially. I know that the midget's prognosis is good, especially because we do understand the severity of the disease and all that it takes to treat it. But just because there are effective treatments, just because diabetes treatments have improved so much doesn't mean that it isn't scary as fuck to know that your child has a disease that can kill them. When you hold that tiny vial of insulin in your hand and realize that the smallest of mistakes can be fatal...that's scary, and no amount of patting me on my head changes that.

Still...I am grateful that she is doing as well as she is, that we caught things before it got so bad that her kidneys were damaged. I am grateful for my family who listens to me rant and rave about how unfair this all is. I am grateful for the doctors and nurses that have taught me so much in such a short time. And I'm grateful that my midget is strong and resilient and brave.

Gratitude aside...the fact is diabetes sucks...