No Cell Phone for You!

In middle school, through, I don't know my early twenties, I went through this awful stage in which I needed everyone one to like me, I wanted everyone to love me. If someone didn't like me, whether I knew it as a fact or I suspected it, I would loose sleep over it, I would obsess over it. I KNOW I would not have survived being so young in today's society. I wouldn't have made it, I was not strong enough. I don't know for sure if the rate of suicide has dramatically increased since the early 90's/2000's. I haven't done enough research to be certain. I do know that it seems to be more recently, that I've heard/read about many young people taking their lives. I'm aware that the parents of these children (children who took their lives) have blamed the use of technology, a form of bullying that did not exist when I was growing up (Thank God). Keyton is nine, and he keeps asking for a cell phone. I am not a fan of Keyton getting one, to be honest it scares me. It's funny, because as I am typing this, I can hear Jesse and Keyton talking about how much it cost's to have a cellphone (they are sitting 10 feet away from me). I know that it's extremely important to talk to my children about what they will endure in the years to come. I strongly feel that it's important to prepare them for whatever cruelness awaits. I want them to have thick skin, but to be sensitive to others. I don't want them to follow the norm when the norm is to be cruel. I want my children to grow up with their own thoughts and dreams, and not to be discouraged by others. I want my children to be excepting and view humans as equals. I don't want my children to waist one second of their precious lives worried about what other's think about them. I pray that I prepare them enough to be the best they can be, to be compassionate, and strong.

Yesterday, someone asked me why I was so weird, and then today, I was asked why I was so weird again, by two different people in less than 24 hours! I still take some things personally, but I don't obsess over it (I know a few people would not agree with this statement). I'm goofy, I like to run not walk, I trip often, and I use a keyboard when it is missing a space bar (which by the way I got a sweet new one). Whether you like me or not, I am pretty sure I love you.

Scrooge of Halloween

I had an incredibly cranky day. I was just mad. I had no reason to be angry, but I was. This bitterness started on Saturday night, after I put my babies to bed. I got on Facebook (shocker) and saw what seemed to be a ton of pictures of people dressed up in their Halloween costumes, having SO MUCH fun. I guess, I should be happy that other people are having a happy ole' time-but I was sitting all alone, on a Saturday night thinking to myself, "Sure have fun--you Happy Halloween people, drink your yummy beer or whatever and have fun." As I was feeling sorry for myself, for probably the world's dumbest reason ever, I had a flash back of a Halloween party I attended in 2000. This would make me 19. I was Micky Mouse---I was one drunk Micky Mouse. People who attended that party, occasionally bring up this party to me. I went all out for this party. I borrowed a costume from a friend, who really bought some fantastic costumes. There was a Halloween dance I attended. I had the whole outfit, from the big (gigantic) Mickey Mouse ears, big white gloves, fluffy yellow shoes, black tights, red shorts, and suspenders.  I had a blue camera I was taking pictures with, back when we still used film, which I had worked hard for and I lost my camera that night. I would suspect that the pictures were entertaining. I can't tell you any stories about that night when I was Micky Mouse, because I can't remember them.Which, sort of made me appreciate the fact that I was not anywhere, making a ginormous fool of myself at that moment. Anyways, people are in the spirit of Halloween. I have been a Scrooge, the Scrooge of Halloween. With the up-coming election, Owen having been sick, and my husband working, I'm not in the most jolly mood. I am going to wake up tomorrow and try my hardest to be a Happy Halloween Woman. Keyton is a scary werewolf, Hal is Wonder Woman, and Owen is Cookie Monster. How can I not have fun with that combination? I can't.

Sometimes, when I get angry with sobriety, I have flashbacks of using or I have nightmares where I'm using, hence the Mickey Mouse flashback. Flashbacks are funny,scary,appalling, and surprising. I'm needing some positive energy. I don't always no how to go about it--ridding myself of negativity. I pray. I talk to friends and family. I try to think about how blessed I have been and am. But, as humans, I think we are entitled to feel however we want/need to at certain times. I can't walk around thinking I should be happy, because of A, B, and C. If I'm not feeling happy, making myself feel badly about not being happy, only makes me feel more anxious or even guilty. So now, that I admit I am having an angry moment, I feel better...a little. I will go watch "The Office" now and laugh and fall asleep feeling better and wake up a Happy Halloween Woman (my costume for tomorrow).

Basketball and Cats.

These last few days, I have been trying to talk Keyton into playing basketball instead of hockey. I have tried different tactics, including telling Keyton that Williston bought brand new basketballs that bounce higher than any other town's basketballs. It's not that I don't like hockey, I just like sitting in warm gymnasiums. And lets face it, there is a lot of protective gear that hockey players must put on, and the gear does not smell good. My dad played basketball when he was in high school. According to what people have told me, my father was a great ball player. I played basketball a little also. I was fast, but my height and attention span were short. When I was in the sixth grade, my mom was attending college in Dickinson, which meant that she and my brother lived there, and I stayed with my dad. I was responsible for getting myself up in the mornings and nine times out of ten, I forgot my inside shoes (in the winter) and I had to wear my snow boots all day, including to basketball after school. My dad would come to my basketball games after work and he would spy me running (well according to him, I would be frolicking) down the court in my snow boots. Now, as I am writing this, I am surprised my coach would let me play basketball in my snow boots. Anyways, I got an awful case of athletes foot that year (I have not had it since, but I do know athletes foot is not pleasant). I guess I better prepare myself for another season of hockey.

Hal wants a cat. I have an unpleasant memory that involves a cat. This memory includes hair and balls. Now that may sound strange, sure it does, but I had a cat as a child, who wore a collar with little ball shaped bells attached to it. One night, while I was sleeping the cat, named Ice ( she was all white) was sleeping with me and somehow, my hair got tangled in Ice's collar between the bells/balls, I mean really tangled, and Ice was hissing and scratching my face. Ice was one pissed off feline. I had to run to my parents room with a cat on top of my head. It was awfully scary.My dad had to free me from the cat's claws. I wouldn't be happy if I was stuck to some one's head either, but it was an unpleasant experience. And I don't want another cat.

Crazy?!?

The other day I dropped off two written prescriptions at my local pharmacy, which I had received from my family doctor earlier in the day. About two hours later, I went back to pick up the scripts and the pharmacy tech informed me the pharmacist told her that he would not fill one of prescriptions, unless he had word from the doctor that it was okay to fill it. I guess it had not been 29 days since I had filled it last, and the soonest I could fill was two days later, which was a problem, since I was leaving on a trip the next day. At first, I was okay with this, and I walked away from the counter, but then all of a sudden something snapped in me,  I was suddenly flooded with these intense feelings that I had never experienced before (seriously). I whipped around and found myself standing in line again at the prescription counter. When it was my turn, I could feel that my face was flushed. I said to the pharmacy tech, "You know, I like, really- really need that prescription to go on my trip." I had a written prescription from my doctor, which in my view meant the doctor had given them permission to fill it. The pharmacy tech turned to another pharmacy tech. The new pharmacy tech told me (not nicely) that it was the pharmacist's call and they (the techs) had no control over the situation. I felt my face grow redder and I said, "Enough! I want to talk to this pharmacist!" So, the pharmacy tech went behind a divider and I heard her say to a the pharmacist, "A crazy person wants to talk to you." So, I said to the divider, "Yeah, only that is why I am here, to pick up my pills-- so I am not crazy anymore." Then I turned to see a woman sitting in a seat  (whom I assumed was waiting for a prescription) gawking at me, as soon as she saw me looking at her, she hurried and buried her head in the magazine she was holding. The pharmacist walked out from behind the divider and made eye contact with me. I think my pupils had dilated and I was sweating and bright red. He told me something about how my doctor would have to contact him to give him permission to fill the prescription.....blah blah blah.  I explained, my doctor wrote me the script that day, and that my doctor knew I was going on a trip and that should be enough permission to fill the damn thing (I also may have told him that my doctor was going to be REALLY MAD at him when he finds out what he did). Then I found myself saying, "I'm not crazy!" After, which I didn't really prove my point because, I told him to take my written prescription and eat it--Then I walked out. Okay, I actually told another human being to eat a piece of paper, after I had explained to the whole pharmacy that I was not crazy. In all of my 30 years, I had never yelled at someone who was only doing their job. Yes, I think we all have crazy moments, where we act/speak before we think. I found a new pharmacy. I didn't bark.

At this point in my life I feel satisfied, as if past events have possibly "hardened" me a bit. I  have a happy feeling deep inside my tummy, and I am pleased with who I am--finally. For so many years I was ashamed of who I had been. I think I have been extra sensitive and finally some of that sensitivity is lessening itself.  Like, I have stated previously, I have been known to act sort of extreme in situations that are out of my control, especially, if it involves people that I love (Which, by the way only pushes those people further way--duh). I feel though, I am finally at peace with those situations.  Depression is a hard subject for many people to communicate. It is my choice to talk about it openly, hoping that others might actually read this and those people might not feel so alone. My best friend emailed me this link today, I wanted to share it. http://www.cnn.com/2012/08/22/living/going-public-with-depression/index.html?c&page=0

Art and Jerry

Above is picture of my maternal grandpa. Art Jr. Eliassen. He died when he was 43, on November 3rd, 1982. This picture was taken two years earlier at my mother and father's wedding. My grandfather took his life. My grandfather had three children, my mother, who was 23, my aunt Jan who was 17, and my Uncle Todd who was 12 at the time of his death. I was 13 months old.  Obviously, I didn't get a chance to get to know my grandpa---however, I love to hear stories about him.

Below is a picture of Jerry Patrick LeDosquet. Jerry took his life, December 27th, 2000. Jerry's daughter, Shelly and I met the summer before first grade and were inseparable. Shelly emailed me the photo below and I have looked at it a million times since.

Jerry, was like a father to me-- I loved him dearly. I had a hard time after Jerry passed. I have probably had a hundred dreams about Jerry during the last 11 years. In these dreams, Jerry is smiling just like he is in the above picture...because that is how I remember him, exactly how he is in the picture. Jerry loved the lake. Jerry's family still has the same boat (not the boat in the picture) that Jerry drove a million times on Lake Sakakawea and now, his family-- Phyllis, Melissa, Shelly, Melissa's husband Will, Jerry's Granddaughter Ella, and Grandson Ethan Patrick ride around on that boat in Minnesota. I learned to water ski behind that boat. Shelly had this to say, "You can not rationalize an irrational act. We love and miss you daddy

Families and friends that have lost their loved ones to suicide want to talk about their loved ones. Families often sense how uncomfortable others are when talking about their family member/friend and they feel as though they can't reminisce, because they, the family and friends, can tell that suddenly people become "odd" or shut down when the name of the person is brought up. This should not be the case and (most of the time), families and friends love to talk about the people they miss everyday of their lives. They need to feel comfortable doing so.

Coping Mechanism

I am enticed by many things to stop sobriety. I'm enticed by, music (all types), Winter days, wedding receptions, Fall days, class reunions (although, I've only been to one), Spring days, fishing, Sundays, funerals, Mondays, arguments, Tuesdays, mean people, Wednesdays, nice people, Thursdays, birthdays, Fridays, trips, Saturdays, shopping, Sundays, and Summer days. The list really could go on for days. I am human after all. I can't control every situation--which, drives me insane, literally, I act like an insane person  when I'm not in control of every situation presented. Ask my husband, like if our grass is starting look browner than I like, I will ask him a million times about the sprinkler system. This need to control everything, combined with my history of depression and anxiety, is the reason I liked alcohol so much. Now, I don't ever get to escape those annoying-- nagging feelings that often overwhelm me. I also don't get to escape situations I have no control over. So today, while being bothered by a situation I had no control over, I decided, I would try a  new coping mechanism. I have tried this new found (self invented) coping mechanism out a few times today, and I am surprised by the success I have had with it. For instance,whenever I had a nagging feeling over a situation I couldn't control, I would bark. Yes, I would bark like my Ruby (my dog). It is a high pitched bark or maybe you could compare it to a high pitched grunt. I did it in a parking lot today and scared a construction worker. I must be creative if I am to survive sober living. Humor gets me through almost every life obstacle there is, but nothing beats a good bark. 

Job Change...Again.

This will be my last week working at the company I am currently employed at. I accepted a position at a cancer center to work as a RN. I am nervous about ANOTHER change. I flipped flopped around so much during the last year wondering where I wanted to work. I first was suppose to work at a women's health clinic. I decided that instead, I would work on an actual labor and delivery unit. However, those 12 hour shifts really were brutal with a husband who is rarely home. I knew that working those 12 hours shifts would be hard, but I needed to give it a try. Then I was going to work a clinic within the hospital and decided, at the last minute, I didn't want to do that either. I was in school getting my bachelor's degree and I was committed to that at the time. I have really enjoyed working in an office environment and learning how an environment like that operates. What I do at the office, is take hand written pieces of paper that truck drivers have filled out, noting the type of sand they hauled and the location from where they loaded to were they unloaded. I put that information into a computer and turn that order into an invoice, which is sent to various companies, so the companies can pay the company for their services. Needless to say, my job has nothing to do with nursing. I am ready to get back into nursing--however, I never thought I would work as an oncology nurse. I wanted to be a labor and delivery nurse, because I related that to happy experiences--after all, you can ask almost any adult with children, when they happiest day of their life was, and they would (I guess most of the time) would say, the day my child or my children were born. Now, I am going to work in an environment where no one wants to be--patient wise. I can't imagine, how scary it must be, to know that you have cancer growing in your body. I do know that I want to be helping people, and I think, I will be.