Just a quicky

MY week isn’t complete until someone tells me what it means to be a mom.

I like to think I’m… OPEN minded, but the truth is, that sometimes the things that the average person says could be mildly offensive.

IMO, and from what I’ve seen, mom’s who put 100% into their kids grow up with bratty kids, and are a husk their former self. Do things that YOU like to once in a while. Your children WONT wither and die if you aren’t watching them every minute. My mom had her hands full with us 5 kids and I don’t think she did a dang thing for herself, other than shower. Does that count? not really! My mom is/was an amazing mom. She was there for me all the time, and loved spending time with me. I loved spending time with her. I also spent time with kids my age and I learned really fast that kids my age were usually just jerks. I would say… 7 times out of 10. Anyway, I liked hanging out with my mom. I remember when I was like… 10 … maybe a little younger I didn’t have any money (because I was 10 and my parents didn’t do the allowance thing. If we wanted money for something we had to work for it.) and I really wanted my mom to get a new shirt. Nothing fancy (though the shirt was pretty IMO that she ended up getting) I just … I wanted MORE for her. I think my mom taught me a great lesson about considering others. I’m not always the best at it… She ended up buying the shirt for herself, but I encouraged her.

As much as I love my mom (and In case you haven’t gotten the point, I DO!) I don’t want to be the mom who doesn’t buy herself a new shirt for 10 years because the kids need school clothes and it doesn’t matter how I look as long as they look good. I’m important too. And for that matter, so Is my mom. I think she’s recovering from the post mom disorder now and takes better care of herself now, but I want to break the cycle. I may not go to the salon all the time, and I dont’ get pedicures, but I want my kids to see that not only am I their mom, I’m a PERSON. I have hobbies, and likes and dislikes. I’m not their servant, I’m HUMAN. I want my kids to know they can rely on me in a pinch, BUT that they should work so they don’t have to.

I love my kids. I love my family.

On the note of my obsession, and such… I was thinking about it this week. As I tend to do (am I obsessed with the fact that I get obsessed?) and I was thinking “i’ve done this forever” My first obsession… I would say Dolls… or reading. I still like dolls, I guess I haven’t outgrown that yet. Reading though. That burned hot and fast, and I would say by 4-5th grade I was bored with it. I still am. On occasion something captures my interest and I will read it, again and again, but usually I just can’t hack it.

Interesting? Eh.

Derringer Meryl [Updates] Out

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Problems with obsessions

First and foremost is that I have to interact with people, obviously not everyone in the world likes what I like, and honestly that’s the mother flippin’ spice of life. Right? Everyone can’t be the same, that’d be DULL and bothersome.


What was I saying… Oh Yes I have to interact with people and they are often DONE with me and my blathering on about things far before I am.  Which is unfortunate. I am not just obsessive about TV shows, when I was a teenager I obsessed about boys … and not in general, i would latch on to a boy and turn my hooks in until he couldn’t stand me, and then I would become OBSESSED (usually lasting months) about WTF went wrong. Someone finally got the balls to tell me it was me, and I was able to work some stuff out in my brain. I learned to hold back.

When I find something that I think is BRILLIANT for me personally I tend to gush. With boys I could hold back after a while because I learned I was damaging my relationships by obsessing. But when it comes to things I”m trying to absorb and work out, I need to rake over it like 40 million times, In my head in a day. What was that thing in the background, did I see something in the mirror? What did those symbols mean? That kind of thing. But also lesser things. Little things about why I love specific characters so much. Why did the writing there make me cry, why do I love the characters so much? I like knowing little facts and passing them on. They make me feel smarter.

{As an aside I have a “I am dumb” complex from growing up with four older brothers, some of which were very insistent on how stupid I was. Because I was a girl, because I was young. THe thing is, I”m still fairly young (I’m no spring chicken, but Most people on the east coast my age don’t even have kids, they’re partying So… whatever) and I have always carried this “I can’t do that” feeling with me. So 5 seconds of reciting some smart fact about a tv show provides cheap and needed thrills}

I finished series 4 of the reboot of doctor who, and cried. I’m sure we’ll never see Rose again. I know things have changed on the show now, and I”m just not sure how to feel about it. David Tennant’s 10th Doctor was angst incorporeal form, I need that sometimes. it was angst with a sugar coating of humor. It gave you the feeling that you could be that Shop girl and be rescued/taken away like Rose Tyler, or a Temp at an Agency working day to day 9-5, no one ever telling you that you were pretty or smart, just doing what it took to get by. And someone could step into your life and it wasn’t so much that the Doctor tells them they’re brilliant, or wonderful, or amazing, he’s just holding a mirror up and showing them how wonderful, brilliant, amazing, fantastic (etc) they can be, and letting them be that way.


I feel like I need to find that outlet. Not in a person. I don’t need a person to validate me, I need to validate me. I need to look into the mirror and see how lovely, amazing, worthwhile, incredible, strong, beautiful and sweet I am. I still have a problem with mirrors, after all these years (for those who dont’ know, I have been terrified of mirrors since I was 5 thanks to someone telling me a super awesome ghost story!) and I think it transitioned at some point from scared to look because of the monster/ghosts/whatever might be there, to just being terrified of me.

I started a story I’ll probably never finish, and in it the character stares at herself in the mirror, and the thoughts in her head, they build until the person that she sees is ugly, and reprehensible. She cannot bear to look any more and so she shatters the mirror, and slices her hands up in the process. It’s a magnifying glass on how I feel.


It’s massively unhealthy, the way I am right now. I don’t lack the capability of being healthy. I simply need to put more positivity into my life. I need to infuse myself with less angst. Sure, angst is great for teenagers, and television characters; but I wallow, because of my obsessiveness. I drown myself in it. I roll around in the sadness and the misery until I can find my way back to where i”m happy again. It can take months, It has taken me years this time. Over three. I may never find the answer as to why I am sad. I may never be able to see clearly what’s going on, even in my head. But I need to learn to rise above it, and grasp for something better.  I think I’m going to try publishing something I write, even just a little drabble… On here once a week. I want to get back to where I was. I don’t want to laugh at high school me who wanted to write. I can never succeed if I never try. I may never be famous, or celebrated, but I can be happy. I can be happy.


Derringer Meryl [Just try] Out

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