This site has moved and I will no longer be publishing on everydaystranger.mu.nu.

Please update your links. I can now be found here.

-S.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:33 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 36 words, total size 1 kb.

Comments are completely broken.

The server move isn't complete and I can't get an answer on when it will be done.

My day is packed.

There is a lot of noise in my life right now.

Inside I'm screaming.

Outside you can't even tell.

Hang in there while I work out what the fuck is going on.

-S.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:16 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 60 words, total size 1 kb.

I had a post about the twins lined up for today, in an effort to pull myself up with my bootstraps, as well as updates on the book club read due this Friday and it being EDS month. I've been struggling this past week and I make no secret of that. I'm not proud of having problems, I don't think I'm lucky or privileged. Writing about mental illness is no easy thing, each and every post is a struggle to not oly be honest with you, but to be honest with myself. But if people come in here and make statements about my mental health that not only impact me but may impact someone who is reading and is feeling fragile, then that is not ok.

I don't normally respond to what I view is a fairly troll-y comment. But this one got to me. This time was just a little too personal.

There's been a side battle going on over something that's seriously a crying fucking shame. Yesterday K felt the need to comment on my site as someone else. Tha's a real blogging no-no, you do not pretend to be someone else, particularly someone else whose husband is battling cancer. But above all she felt the need to go after my mental health and my parenting by saying:

You really are a crazy nut ball. Amazing you were permitted to have children. And then that you didn't drown them as infants.

Amazing.

You can think I'm a crap parent if you want.

What you cannot do - what no one can do, ever - is question my children's safety with me.

Let me be perfectly, absolutely, crystal clear about this - my children are not now, never have been, and never will be in any danger from me. Ever. My single greatest priority in life is that my children have a safe, stable and secure childhood. They will not know of my mental health issues. They do not get exposed to anything apart from complete and total dedication and admiration. And yes, I am blowing my own trumpet here, but my vow is that my children will have a happy childhood that is so great they will take it for granted.

People can have mental illness. It doesn't always end with them drowning their children in bathtubs, nor is it something that gets run by the police who "allow people to have children". Some of us spend our time trying to get better so that we can ensure our children never go through the cycles that we went through.

I get it that K was acting out based on pain and upset and feelings of being witch-hunted, and I am genuinely sorry that people have "hunted" her based on her opinion about the side topic - she had an absolute right to ask the questions she did and I believe that. I have no problem with you, K, and am sorry your life has been hard (inlcuding, ironically, a suicide attempt that I would've thought made you understanding of mental illnes). I don't intend on spending any more thought on you than I already have. Yes, you hurt me with what you commented. Congratulations.

Me you can hurt.

My children you cannot.

No one can. Ever.

-S.

UPDATED - I understand this site is rejecting any and all comments, and that's not due to me closing things or due to spam filters. The good news is we think the instability is due to this site being moved over today to the new domain and server. Bear with me while we head for the newer pastures - fingers crossed the server move and re-design are complete and cooperating by tomorrow. If you want to comment, you can always email by clicking that big "Contact" button on the top toolbar, or else you can drop by the .eu site, which is running as well.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:38 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 656 words, total size 4 kb.

London yesterday.

See my face in the glass of the tube. It is angular, my face. Lines and planes. Hair pulled back and shiny dangly earrings, not my norm but which I am trying to make it so. iPod in ears, songs playing haunting music (Pacem by Kathy Haggerty). Book idling on my lap - I am greatly enjoying it, but it takes concentration. In my handbag a small, hand-jotted list detailing things that I wanted to talk to him about.

My tube gets to the suburb early. I walk through the north London streets, not really sure who I am. My hair is escaping and floating around my face. I tuck it behind my ears and feel my feet on the ground, a connection.

When the time comes I go to his house. As I enter another one leaves and we do not make eye contact. Do not see me as I do not see you and together we can pretend none of this ever happened. I go up to the room. I sit. I talk.

His room is the one room where everything is safe and everything can be said with impunity. I lay my soul bare in that room, and every haunted image and darkened corridor is laid to light. He has a large stained glass sculpture in one of his windows of a fiery sunset. I stare at it often.

I do not lie to him.

I have never lied to him.

We talk and talk and talk. I do not cry but he does. He tells me that I lead a life of great stress - full time job, twins, renovations, fucked-up family, finances, health issues, a relationship, a traumatized childhood (his words). I tell him this is not stress, this is just life. I am stubborn. I will not concede this one. He says my bathtub actions of a week ago were the result of my nervous system saying Enough. Enough, do not give me anymore because I cannot take it.

My family we park. They are crazy today, they'll be crazy tomorrow. I hoped they would come round, like my father did, but it appears they will not. It is true - the babies have lots of love in their life. I won't expose them to instability, I fight too hard to keep this platform safe.

The winds are blowing. There is something that the sand of my fucked-up memory is uncovering. I tripped over it - I was walking through the corridors looking for stationary and there it was. I can almost see the tip of it. It is big. It is wrong. It is very, very wrong. Don't touch it, says my Couch Man. We will not deal with this now. Put the shovel down and leave it alone for now. We will get to it but not now. Not yet.

I don't remember anyway, I tell him. Because I don't.

What's happening to me? I ask.

Fix me, I beg.

Make it stop.

He talks to me. I am not broken, he tells me. I am a self. All selves are inherently good he tells me. I sense a philosopy discussion here. I will arm myself with Sartre and Rilke. They are cynics in sheep's clothing. He tells me that the self is always pure, that the mechnisms one develops to be safe are what get warped, twisted, and hateful. Even in the worst offenders the self is good, it's just pursued by packs of angry psyche.

He tells me I am a good person inside.

I am unconvinced.

He tells me we shall work on self. We shall work on control. We shall work on stress. We will work on ending ther neurosis. We will prove to me that what is inside me isn't black and infected and dead.

We have to meet more than once a month. He says this not to line his pockets as he's not like that. He tells me that I'm vulnerable. This is dangerous territory. We are meeting weekly now, and I will have to make cuts in our budget to accomplish me being so very screwed-up. This week everything broke - my watch. Alastair's watch. A glass. Our car. My mind.

I trust him.

He tells me that I can do this. That I love my children so absolutely that I will walk through fire to make myself right for them.

He knows me.

I trust him and tell him things that would send you fleeing from this website.

-S.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:07 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 766 words, total size 4 kb.

A week ago I had a Very Bad Day.

Very Bad Days happen to everyone, I know. I'm the first to hold my hand up and say that my life, it's a bit of a roller coaster. When the cart is at the top of the hill and the wind is in my hair, then there is nothing that I cannot do, nothing that I cannot survive. And when the cart is headed for a trough in the coaster, my hair streaming behind me and my heart in my throat, all I can do is hang on and hope that the slope slows down and that I don't careen off the tracks.

I'm not sure what happened last Thursday on my Very Bad Day. I'm not sure really what triggered it, and I don't know how to prevent it from happening again. All I can tell you is this - Thursday evening I poured myself the hottest bath that I could stand. I was sobbing and trying to scrub my skin off because I felt there was no one I could be clean. I was sobbing and trying to jump out of myself with pure and utter desperation, an alcoholic off the wagon, a drug addict buying an illicit plastic packet. In the end the only thing that calmed me down was to sit there and violently shake my head from side to side as hard as I could. I did it for ages, sat in the hot steaming bathtub, crying.

There I was at the bottom of the roller coaster falling apart.

My therapist told me this next round of therapy would be harder. I can't really imagine anything harder than what I went through last time, to consider what difficulty means this time is rather destroying. But I roll my sleeves up. I nod. I accept that I've got work to do separating the wheat from the chaff inside of me.

My family has recently hit a point where the dust will settle and I will no longer take the map out, wondering which direction to go. My mother has moved from Dallas, packing everything up (including the Grandma) and moving to another state. She was reluctant to tell me where she was moving. No one told me my Grandma went, I had to do the investigating myself. My mother - in a very businesslike manner - informed me and my father that she would be shipping several boxes of my things to my father. I can't remember what those things might be. I've been thinking about those boxes a lot, wondering what part of my life is in there. A small part of me doesn't want to know. A larger part of me does. Perhaps it's irrelevant as my family had a massive falling out and I don't think the boxes will ever make their way to me, anyway. Maybe my mother never sent them. Maybe she threw them away.

My family moved away and now I know - I won't be going to Dallas again. I have nothing left there. My secret hopes of reconciliation are gone, that won't be happening. My Grandma's gone. Kim is dead. There is nothing in Dallas for me now but dust and dreams and the feel of copper under my fingertips. It's a finality, but a good one. That door closes and I'm good with that.

The family one is harder. I struggle with family. Six letters in a word that defines so many of us. Six letters. The same amount of letters as strong. As misery. As depend. So many people read here that are estranged from their families, and I don't know if it's because as a unit, we no longer need family in the way that generations past did. Maybe the internet calls lost souls to it like a siren call, and we all congregate together and feel better for being one of Those People, the bad ones that have split families.

My sister and her husband have blocked all contact with me, but I don't really care. Not anymore. I don't actually expect I'll ever see her again, not even at family funerals (apart from my father's, when no doubt she'll be tetchy about inheritances and such). We were close, once, but that closeness did not hold. She is not my family, not anymore, not ever again.

I had hopes for my mother and I, but too much has happened. The latest is too much. I wanted her to be a part of Nick and Nora's lives, but I don't think that will happen. I wish I was better at this. I wish I was a better person. I sent some emails a few weeks ago out of sheer exasperation and hopes that we could be united for 5 children. They backfired in a way I could never have anticipated. I give up. I'm not going to try anymore. This is the way it's going to be.

I've had my anti-depressant medication adjusted. Tonight I trek into London to be therapatized. I am so looking forward to it while dreading it at the same time. Alastair and I have been talking about it a lot, and I am really having a harder time of it this time round. I feel somehow more exposed, more raw, more vulnerable.

I will put my soul to the side because I don't need it right now, and deal with everything else.

-S.

PS-Secret Scripture Book Review next Friday. Be there or be square. You don't need to have finished the book, either. I'm going to gather up questions for it now, so please email/comment on what questions you have for the book club.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:29 AM | Comments (20) | Add Comment
Post contains 955 words, total size 5 kb.

Statia [14:22]:
dude
Shannon[14:26]:
Hola hot bed rest mama
Statia [14:27]:
i went into Mini's room
this morning
he was asleep
butt up in the air
hugging his sheep
i thought you'd like that
Shannon[14:28]:
I love that.
Photo would have been welcome
And you could've used it on his prom night, too.
Statia [14:30]:
yeah, unfortunately a flash would have scared the shit out of him in his dark room
Shannon[14:30]:
is it about his mental well-being or my humor, though?
I mean, honestly.
Some people.
It's clear you only have his best interests at heart.
And what about me?
Statia [14:31]:
oh, i see how it is.
sadist
i think we know the real truth
it's about me.
Shannon[14:35]:
There's a woman [who works with Alastair]. She's married to a dwarf. I can't get past my obscene fascination.
Statia [14:35]:
you want porn pictures, don't you?
admit it.
because you're lying if you say that's not the first thing that came to mind
Shannon[14:35]:
I'd pay good money to see a little midget bowling.
Shannon[14:46]:
If you name your kids Moses and Obadiah I think I'd have to sucker punch you.
Only because I care.
Nothing says "I'm spending my afternoon finding Jesus" than the names Moses and Obadiah.
Statia [14:47]:
uh
yeah
it would be forbidden
religious names are forbidden in this house
Shannon[14:47]:
We work on exactly the same principles.
Now, if you name your kids "Satan" and "Jesus" and didn't pronounce it Hay-SOOOS then we'd also have to talk.
Wow, PMS has me so morally superior today. Sorry about that.
Statia [14:48]:
i prefer my yuppie precocious names
that say
"i'm original"
just like everyone else
Shannon[14:48]:
Like "Pahtryck"?
Jaydehn?
Statia [14:48]:
brydyn
fuck vowels
FUCK THEM IN THE ASS
Shannon[14:49]:
I love a name that would fuck you during Wheel of Fortune.
Statia [14:49]:
HAHAHAHAHAH
my parrot thought that was funny
Shannon[14:49]:
I felt that one was sphincter-tightening funny.
Statia [14:51]:
i think i get fisted today
rad
Shannon[14:51]:
Oh excellent. Will you lay back and think of England?
Statia [14:52]:
yes, the English countryside is always what I think of when I have a fist up my vagina
Shannon[14:52]:
I knew you were an Anglophile.
What are they doing? Looking for gold?
Statia [14:53]:
no, they'll check for dilation
but I've been contracting a lot
more than with Mini
it could just be
that my uterus is in sadder shape
Shannon[14:55]:
With your luck you'll deliver the baby within 4 minutes on the kitchen floor and the Meester will have to keep the dogs away from the placenta.
(That oughta' get me off the Christmas card list, eh?)
JUST KIDDING.
That won't happen.
Statia [14:56]:
hey, if Miss M wants to eat it, more power to her
she'd better fucking lick the floor clean
and not puke afterwards
Shannon[14:56]:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
I can see it now:
"It's coming back up! Throw her outside! Throw her outside NOW!"
Statia [14:57]:
and then we'll plant a tree in that spot.
Shannon[14:57]:
which you'll dance around under every other full moon.
Statia [14:57]:
unless of course it's on the DECK
Shannon[14:57]:
in which case I'm thinking pressure washer.
Man, the temptation to publish this IM conversation is fierce.
Statia [14:59]:
go for it.


God I love having friends who are no-holds barred.

-S.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:29 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 571 words, total size 3 kb.

1 No religious names?!? Michael, James, and John are all religious names...not to mention Solomon.

Posted by: Solomon at May 06, 2009 12:34 PM (x+GoF)

2 Woo hoo!! Solomon is the first to comment!!! I believe this is the first time EVER I've been the first commenter. It's the little things in life that make Solomon happy. : )

Posted by: Solomon at May 06, 2009 12:37 PM (x+GoF)

3 Love. It.

Posted by: Margi at May 06, 2009 12:49 PM (r2Tnl)

4 hehe "It's coming back up! Throw her outside! Throw her outside NOW!" Pure gold

Posted by: ~Easy at May 06, 2009 01:03 PM (IVGWz)

5 LMAF!

Posted by: Siera at May 06, 2009 03:25 PM (Ckc6D)

6 Having a husband named Adam, I was asked once or twice if we were going to name our kids with religious names, since Adam is such "a strong biblical name". I mean, what the hell? He didn't name himself, and I sure as shit didn't name him-why would I name my kids a religious name because their dad has one? Sheesh, some people. Totally gross about the whole placenta thing. Gives me the heebee jeebees.

Posted by: Teresa at May 06, 2009 05:13 PM (07Vt0)

7 I love the flow. Like ADHD on meth.

Posted by: statia at May 06, 2009 06:07 PM (s5ipx)

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To My Babies -

Last night I woke myself up shouting a number of times. I dreamt bad things were happening to you. My final dream this morning was the greatest of nightmares - I dreamt that you passed away and I was sorting through boxes of your clothes, unable to give anything away. I was shouting again and when I woke up I thought my nightmare was real for a few moments, and for those moments I lost more of myself than I ever thought possible. For those moments I didn't see any point in even getting out of bed. For those moments I didn't see any point to anything.

I had a rough week last week but the most important part of it all to me was that you never saw it. On Thursday night I had a very bad night indeed, but as I took a bath and tried to soak it all away I was so, so conscious that you were on the other side of that bathroom wall, sleeping snug in your cots, and there was no question in my mind that I would simply get on with things because you are there and you need me. You are one of the greatest motivators for me to be human, my Lemonheads.

The truth is, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.

Read you the same book 100 times.

Play horsey with you until my legs are burning.

Do round and round the garden until your hands are so tickling that you can't stand it.

But above all, I want to be the safest, warmest, most whole environment you can imagine. I want you to have a lovely childhood that you can someday take for granted. I want you to feel secure at every minute of every day.

I will make mistakes. I know I will. But when I make a mistake I will sit down on the floor with you and I will tell you that I love you and that I am sorry. I will admit my wrongs and we can work on making things right. I know I will screw up. It will hurt us both when I do. I'm already sorry for that. I'm pre-asking for your forgiveness.

You give me more than I can ever tell you. My beautiful girl, the way you see the world makes me see it all over again. Your facial expressions slay me, and this morning when you said "Papa" for the first time on Skype to your Papa, I'm not sure who was more proud, him or me. My beautiful boy, the way that you stay awake in bed for me to come do our ritual is so special to me. Your sister will fall asleep and you wait for me. When I come into your room I break our rules and pick you up and hold you up to the twinkling fairy lights. I kiss your neck and tell your spellbound face to say goodnight to the lights. When I put you back to bed you usually go to sleep right away.

I wonder if you know how much I want for you. I want everything for you, but above all things I want you to be happy and secure. I will be here for you forever, nothing will ever make me leave.

My baby boy, it's like I whisper to you every time you cry when I leave the room. When I come back into the room and pick you up and wipe your tears away I lean into your ear and whisper "It's ok, baby. Mummies don't leave, sweetheart."

Mummies don't leave.

Not this one.

Not ever.

Love,
Mummy.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:22 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
Post contains 626 words, total size 3 kb.

Never fear. Very soon I'll tell you about the night I very nearly went round the twist. It's otherwise known as "last night". It's going down in legend.

Anyway - the everydaystranger.net site should be up and running in the next 5 days. In the meantime, I'll be posting here and on the temp URL I had yesterday, so you can go to either site until the .net site is working.

In the meantime, I have a favor.

No wait - I have two.

If you see any ads on my site, if you could click them that would be good. I'm not trying to sell anything, or have spam downloaded on your pc, or trying to suck your brains out of your head with a straw (because I'm a veggie). It does mean ad revenue for me, which these days doesn't even get me nappies throughout the month, but if I'm lucky it can get me a diner cup of coffee. So many thanks if you can clickify.

Secondly, I'm again up for an award. I know I won't win, and that's ok, but I am generally running around living only to serve, so if you wanted to vote for me that would be ok. My ego would appreciate it. I'm not going to be the Hottest Mama, but I'll be brutally honest here - I want to get more votes than another blogger nominated in the category, one who makes me want to stab my eyes out with hot pokers.

I don't want to win, I just want to embrace my pettiness for a moment.

Oh, and third (hey, I'm a liar and a would-be Hot Mommy Blogger) - Sarah got my attention on this link. Read. Wet yourself laughing. You won't regret it.

-S.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:25 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
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