One-eyed dog,
One-eyed dog,
Ain’t nuthin’ sadder than a
One-eyed dog…

‘Cept a three-eyed dog
sittin’ in the fog
won’t go for a walk
chewing on a carrot stalk

Three-eyed dog,
Three-eyed dog,
Ain’t nuthin’ sadder
‘Cept a pink-eyed frog

Pink-eyed frog,
Pink-eyed frog,
Ain’t nuthin madder
than a pink-eyed frog

(and on and on…)

I struggle with control - controlling what I eat, controlling being lazy, controlling my behaviours and guilt related to work and kids - everything comes first but me.  And I have to wonder, do I like being able to say, ‘I have no time for me’?

I was telling my boss about this weekend when I was taking the shower and in that 15 minutes each of my girls and my husband came in to ask me something.  My boss, “why don’t you lock the door”.  So really, why don’t I?  Well, duh, then I can’t say I have no time to myself.  So again, I can control it and choose not to.

So, today, this week, one meal at a time, one hour at a time I will make better decisions - not perfect decisions, but better decisions to be healthier and to create boundaries that in the end make me a better mother, wife, and friend.

And that will give me control, power even, and hopefully flip a switch on my mood. 

Matt - I challenge you to posting a made up song each week for the month of November :)  If you do, I will!  It’s my thing you know

While we’re on the subject of moodiness… Mondays are always bad and today was like walking through a fog. Until after lunch, when something just switched in me.

Hell, who knows, maybe it was that third cup of coffee, but I decided that I better try to have some fun before the day was over.

So I did. I had a kickass meeting where I defended and praised a co-worker’s designs (they really were good and showed growth and risk-taking).

When I got home, I started singing “Why have a bad day when you can have a good one?”

I tend to make up songs, especially for the girls’ benefit. We come up with some really goofy ones… but as goofy as this one sounds, I think it’s got a helluva lot of truth in it.

Heck, now that Sarah Palin is fading into the Alaskan sunset, I’m gonna have to do a lot more winking at the camera… Now, where’s my wardrobe allowance check?

I censor myself A LOT.  I am concerned about upsetting the perception people have of me.  Perceptions I work at.  So if I am constantly censoring or worried about an audience, can their be truth?  Can I have a voice?  Can I figure out who I am?

And if I don’t censor, I feel the need to write somewhere other then where people I know read… but even then I chicken out.  So how do you make that leap?  How do you write as if no one were reading (dance like no one’s watching), you get the concept.  How do you put yourself out there with a different voice than anyone is expecting?  Who am I to pre-determine what people are thinking about me?  And why does it worry me so much?  What would I lose?

What is freedom?  I see people put things out there that are raw and filled with truth - but do they feel freedom when they do?  Or is that just another cage built from different expectations or needed reactions?

I wonder how I got to be 33 and still so caught up in a high school mentality of wanting to “fit in”. 

So who am I when I am not trying to be what the people I am with expect?

I think it started shortly after we got back from the ill-fated trip to France during which there was much tension and outright arguments. But it probably started before that. A long time before that.

I had a checkup during which I got my cholesterol checked. When the results came back, I was at my mom’s house working (this was a weekday… when I work from home, I really work from Mom’s house since my children don’t understand the concept of work too well). Jennifer had come down to have dinner (our kitchen was in the initial throes of being remodeled — a project that lasted something like two months because of a clerical reading error).

Anyway, the doc calls and says basically that my cholesterol is too high and despite all my exercising and dietary modifications, I should start taking a Statin drug. I was blown away because I had been fine cholesterol-wise for the past two years after starting exercising and cyclocommuting.

Jennifer overhears the conversation and doesn’t like what she hears. I was giving in.

Now, let me state that I do believe Statins are overprescribed and that the “proof” of their effectiveness in preventing heart attacks is shrouded in controversy.

We sit down to eat and I have no appetite. I’m upset already about the news and don’t know what to do.

Jennifer asks and I explain that the doc recommends going on a Statin and that he wants me to do so specifically because my “bad” cholesterol is precipitously higher than my “good” cholesterol and that this coupled with my high blood pressure is a bad portent for my future existence.

Jennifer says, “Well, we better up the life insurance on you, then.”

You could hear a pin drop.

I was floored. Is that all that’s important?

I say something like, “Gee, thanks. Why?”

“Depression and suicide are greater in people who take statins. There’s a direct correlation.”

Let me explain, if I haven’t before, that I suffer from clinical depression. Fall is always worse.

Of course, offhand comments like that make my depression worse.

Of course, I should be over by now. We’ve talked and I’ve explained how small that made me feel. Jennifer begrudgingly apologized.

* * *

I have since changed my diet and started taking Triple Strength Fish Oil and Flax Seed Oil from GNC in hopes of boosting my good cholesterol. I tried Red Rice Yeast, but it gave me terrible indigestion.

I got a stay of execution from the doc, though he warned that it was unlikely that my cholesterol would change enough even with exercise and diet to make a difference.

It’s coming up on the time when I should have my blood checked again. I feel sick inside thinking about it.

* * *

Let me also say that I never meant for this blog to be a place to badmouth my loved ones or have a pity party.

What makes me sicker though, is the nagging feeling that our relationship is, if not damaged, definitely not what it should be.

Daily life has become a political affair. Everything from dish detergent to what you brush your teeth with to what you take to prevent heart disease has become a topic for discussion instruction.

What do I do if the blood test comes back and my cholesterol is still not “within the limits”?

Do I take the medicine in secret?

Do I not take the medicine?

Will I die of a heart attack?

Shit, I had enough anxiety about things way before this happened. Now where do I turn? Who do I talk to?

Relationships are tricky things in the every day thick and muck of life.  Add in the gift we have as Americans - democracy - and our right to vote and the media and the constant onslaught of TV adds, interviews, debates, blog posts, facebook comments, and it gets even trickier.

Political views aren’t something that are shared just because blood is shared or marraige or friendship.  It can seem as unique as fingerprints.  Finding a voice that sounds like yours isn’t easy.  But what is harder is hearing the voices that are so different from yours that it challenges you to remember to be civil.  And in the last 40 days, the campaigns haven’t been civil, the media hasn’t been civil, and remembering that the election is over soon doesn’t always help those around you to be civil. 

Civility includes not taking it personally!  What you believe shouldn’t change who a person is in your life.  But the words used towards each other and the way we discuss our differences could have us second guess who we have in our lives - but if it only happens during election times does it count?

Personally, I will be glad when the election is over.  Whoever wins, and I will vote for Obama, has a tough road ahead.  But I will be glad when I don’t have to bite my tongue because people around me have totally different logic, ideals, and thoughts about what is “right”.  I won’t have to turn my head when people I love push in areas I don’t want to talk about - we aren’t coming to a common ground today.  And on election day that is when I will do what I think is right, and they have their chance for the same thing.   Vote.

Then we can go back to being annoyed because of ANYTHING else and not talk about this election.   And hope that civility makes it way back to the media, the congree, our relationships.   

I am 33 years old, or 33% dead if I live to 100 years old. I have recently started collecting little plastic figures like this:

and I really like the writing of Chuck Palahniuk, whose work has been described like so:

“To Palahniuk’s credit, there is something here to appall almost every sensibility. The author has a singular knack for coming up with inventive new ways to shock and degrade.” New York Post

My birth-father committed suicide.

I don’t like the popular Easter time candy named “Peeps”. Blech.

Am I normal?

3 years ago I spent a week on the couch at my mom’s house, sleeping on and off all day long. The sleep followed the panic attacks. Xanax helped a lot, but I missed a shitload of work and went to the hospital after a “speaking in tongues” incident that freaked my mom out. My wife and daughter were in Florida visiting her folks at the time.

That wasn’t so normal.

What it taught me was that I wasn’t just depressed, but riddled with anxiety about ALL KINDS OF THINGS.

Obsessive thoughts are fine except when they override your ability to function. That week was a doozy. I kept going to work trying to be “normal” and would panic by 10am because I couldn’t remember how to do anything in Photoshop.

I learned a lot from that experience.

Let’s switch gears a little bit.

SEX.

Sex is normal. Sex with regularity is not just normal, but can be really fun. Most folks who have had sex and enjoyed it like to have it with some regularity. What is the normal amount for a married couple with two kids?

Hellifiknow. The web says it used to be 3 to 4 times a week, but that in recent years it was lessened to between 1 and 3 times a month.

I obsessed about this issue quite a lot after our second child was born. I felt like we were in a drought. Talking about it, arguing about it… nothing helped. Finally, I got bored with the topic.

I think our sex life has rebounded. I don’t really keep track anymore. When we do have sex, though, it is generally really good. Maybe “saving it up” helps. Maybe not having the dog lick my ankle helps (the dog sleeps in the bed…)

If you do it too much, it gets really boring.

WEIGHT.

Thanks to a recent bout with either Salmonella, E. Coli, or Shigella, I am now 5 pounds lighter. Woohoo. I also have started washing my hands more thoroughly (but not obsessively, yet). I am 6 feet tall and now weigh and all time ten year low of 210. That is naked, on the scale at home. At the f-ing doctor’s office, I’m always 10 pounds more.

How do people perceive me? As “big guy”. I hate that.

— “Hey, big guy!”

— “(yes, fuck-o?)”

I am not petite. I have always wanted to be slender and tall.

A recent experience highlighted something for me on the subject. I saw a woman who was slender and well-toned. Very attractive to me. And yet, she put off this air of extreme unhappiness.

Lesson-learned: being trim and fit won’t make anyone happy. And happiness is more important to me than how people perceive me. I still worry about that though… Why?

[INTERRUPT]**** I DON’T WANT OR INTEND FOR THIS TO COME OUT LIKE A SLEW OF PAT ANSWERS TO COMPLICATED ISSUES ****[/INTERRUPT]

MAKE-UP

I don’t wear make up and I don’t think that it is “normal” for women to always wear make up. It is ordinary and is a product of our patriarchal society and the way that we treat women as objects. I’m sure some people will object and say, “but I can’t go out without my lipstick” or “without mascara I have no ‘eyes’”.

WTF?

You have no eyes?

Good grief, listen to yourself!

On a related note, I have to admit I won’t go out without a shower. And combing my beard.

THE POINT?

The point is life is too short (and could be shorter than anyone expects — my stepfather died at 52) and that while all these worries and trips we put ourselves on are completely valid, we should never let them consume us.

What’s the remedy then? A good, open conversation with friends. A laughing spell. A beer and some good silliness. Being honest with ourselves and each other. Taking time out to be a mess and revel in it. We’re human, after all.

See, obsessive.  So what is normal? 

• What is normal when talking to a pre-schoolers teacher?  What am I allowed to ask or request and not be an overbearing mom?
• What is normal in terms of finances, are we ahead of the game or behind it?
• What is normal for fighting with your husband?  For sex?  For sex after 2 kids?
• What is the proper hair length for a 33 yo women?  Is mine too long for my age?  Should I cut it more?
• How “fat” am I?  How am I perceived?  What do other people see?  I have no idea how I compare to everyone around me - I have a warped sense of this.
• Should I wear make-up?  Is it weird I don’t?
• How much risk should a couple in our position take on investments?
• Am I too lazy?  Am I too unstructured with the kids when we are home?
• How bad do we really eat compared to other families with 2 working families and kids?
• Is it really not normal that I don’t fawn over our dog?
• Is it normal that when I start a book I can finish 629 pages in under 3 days, and work, hit the pool, take care of the kids and house?

Everything I do and everything I think about ties into these type of thoughts.  Is that normal?  Do other people do that?  I don’t think my husband does at all.  Is it a girl thing?  Is it a moving every 2 years thing?  Is it me and I need medical intervention?

I do think that we are doing OK.  We have great family, great friends, great kids.  But underneath the pollyanna and the filtering of what I share of my life, I wonder.  I wonder if these thoughts are OK?  I am able to manage and function and do what needs to be done.  But sometimes I wonder.  I wonder if I need to be locked up or on medication or maybe it is normal.  I wonder if any of this spills over to my kids, I don’t want it to.  I want my girls to be carefree like their dad.

I don’t even care about the competition of some of the things above, I just want to know if we are average or where we need to improve to be normal.  I wonder if it matters?  I wonder…

If I don’t hit publish right now I won’t post this.  I wonder if I should.

Four x $1200 = almost 5 grand just to get there and back.

My mom hesitated buying a ticket because she doesn’t want to travel alone. It was suggested that my brother go with her, but he can’t afford it.

My wife has been reading lots of books about Peak Oil and the coming collapse of civilization.

She reasons that since things are “doomed”, she should cash in part of her 401k and we should go.

In the meantime, my mother has voiced to her that it just won’t be fun with the girls (my daughters).

I got home yesterday and my wife said she was going to “do whatever it takes to go”.

What would you do?