Hodge-Podge Post Post

Kids driving me nuts right now. Son is shoving waffle into a long tube. Daughter begging to microwave chocolate so she can eat melted chocolate. I'm so tired, I just keep saying, "OK, just don't make a mess."

My son has been eating exclusively breakfast breads (waffles , french toast, and bagels) and yogurt for 2 weeks now. He's on reverse Adkins??

I think my cat has diabetes. This is my own professional opinion. He drinks exorbant amounts of water and is very moody. I also think he has ADHD. He is fond of biting my nose while I sleep, and he scales the screened window and runs around like he's on crack all night. Maybe I should stop feeding him crack cocaine? Maybe i should take him to vet? Maybe I should stuff him and put him on wall?

I'm still single. I'm also still fucking T. That's all I've got to say about that.

I want to start dating cops.

I think exaustion is making me delirious.

I keep having strange dreams about getting aquarium and killing fish.

I'm considering dating women again. Seriously. Any takers?

Building Yourself

A recurring theme in my life seems to be people around me expresssing why their life sucks. Why they are a victim in life.
Why they are different then everyone else.
Why life singles them out for the infliction of pain.

I have one thing to say:

We are all the builders of our own lives.

Bad things happen to everyone.
Good things happen to everyone.

We own our lives.
We own every good thing that has happened.
We own every bad thing too.

Even though bad things may happen that are totally out of our control, it is how we chose to react that builds us as individuals.

Each and every one of us builds our own lives.
Every day.
In everything we chose to do.
In everything we chose not to do

If your life is good, you should take credit for creating a good life.

And if your life is bad
It is your responsibility to change that
To rebuild your life
To rebuild yourself

Because if you chose not to act
And your life is still bad

Only you is to blame.

Living With Autism

As those close to me know, my son has autism.

Having a child that is "special" has substantially changed my view of the whole world. As I grew up, I was always one of the smartest and most athletic kids among my peers. It makes me sad to think back, how I used to make fun of, look down at, or generally ostrasize children who were "different", who were "special".

Now, as the prod mother of an autistic child, I feel as if I am on the "outside" sometimes. Friends and family just do not understand why we can not do the things that other "normal" families do.

My son has required 24/7 care for the last 6 years of his life. Very recently, I have trusted him enough to get a yogurt out of the fridge alone, or brush his teeth alone but, other than the very recent past, I have spent every moment of my life within arm's length of Ethan.

He requires this level of attention because he has no conception of what "danger" is. Furthermore, he has not had the capacity to learn what "danger" is like "normal" children do. He has touched the oven many times, cut body parts with scissors, eaten isulation from an unfinished basement, run out into 4 lane highway, etc. Trips to the emergency room have been a regular occurrance, despite my vigilance.

My son alo makes alot of noise, regardless of the situation. He becomes impatient and cries alot. He is very clumsy and falls alot. He also has sensory integration issues, that cause him not to be able to sit still for more then a few minutes. He paces constantly. He tantrums alot too. He is the "size" of a "normal" six year old, so this all causes problems of its own. I currently live in an apartment, and my neighbors complain.

My son has the vocabulary of a 2 year old. His social skills currently hover around 3 years of age, and this is only with many years of hard work. His emotional age is around 2. His intellectual skills, however, are equal to the skills of a 10 year old. The mix of age, skills, and abilities makes things complicated as well. Remember, too, that he "looks normal." This causes alot of scathing, intruive, and mean comments from people almost every time we leave the house (ie- Your son is so badly behaved. He needs a good spanking.)

I write this post to try to give everyone who reads it an idea of what life with a "special child" is like. It is my hopes that this post may breed:

Understanding.
Hope.
Support.

Almost 1% of American children today has a disorder that falls along the autism spectrum. To learn more please visit the Autism Society of America

http://www.autism-society.org/site/PageServer

The break-up orgasm that removed the haze

Today I feel great. This is the greatest I've felt in many months. I feel so great that it's almost a feeling I do not recognize.

In the last few months everything has really come into order. I was so deep in a haze of depression and self-deprecation that I did not even realize it. I am interning at my dream job. I have been actually arguing cases in court! I am coming to the end of my long, hard, educational journey. In less then a year, if I continue along this path, I will actually be a lawyer! A lawyer! A lawyer!

My self-deprecating self kept convincing myself that being a lawyer was a dream, a lie, a non-reality. Surely, before that point, I'd fuck up in a big way...I'd fail out of school, or go on a angry rampage and shoot the dean, or just quit and run off to Vegas to become an exotic dancer, or get busted smoking crack and get kicked out of law school during the last week of school (Note: I am neither admitting nor denying that I do, or ever have smoked crack. )

Today, while on the stair-master, during my 38th minute of cardio it hit me.

THIS IS REAL.

I am not just wearing a shirt that says I'm in "law school", I really am in law school.
I'm not just telling people I am going to be a prosecutor, there is a very good chance I'm getting hired at the Commonwealth's Attorney office in May.
I'm not just "faking" being a strong, single mother, who loves and nurtures her children to the fullest of her extent, I really am a great single mom.

Where did these realizations come from.
Why this stair-master epiphany?

Honestly, I do not know, but I do know what has transpired during the preceeding 48 hours.

T came over yesterday. We fought, again. We talked, again. He said he's getting therapy, again, so her can be a better boyfriend, again. WE rehashed, again, the fact that during our 18 month relationship, he was faithful only six weeks. I hear the "sex addiction", excuse again.

Then something I never said AND meant before came out of my mouth.

"Todd, I'm moving on."

And I meant it. I meant it like I never meant it before, to anyone. Even when I left my ex-husband, I said I was leaving more as a threat, fully expected to reconcile. Every breakup I've ever had, I've never meant it.

Yesterday I did.

What happened next?

WE FUCKED.

We fucked long and hard and wild and crazy. I lost track of orgasms. It was some of the best sex of my life.

As soon as it was over, all I could think was one thing.

Go home. Goodbye. See Ya. There's the Door.

I couldn't get him out fast enough. I did not want to cuddle. I did not want to talk. I just wanted him gone.

Then today I woke up feeling wonderful.

I may be alone.

But I have two great kids.
I have the most supportive best friend in the world.
I have a very faithful and cuddly black cat.
I almost have a JD.
I have a gym membership that I'm planning on using alot more.
I have a whole wardrobe of size 8 clothes that I'm going to be able to fit back into soon.
I have my own apartment.
I have a healthy-sized CD with which I will soon purchase a home.

I may have no man.
No pending dates.

But I have everything I want and need right now

Would-Be-Anniversary

Today, nine years ago, I got married.

This is my second "would-be-anniversary" without my ex-husband. Last year was pretty hard, but this year I'm not feeling overly-emotional.

However, I am feeling overly-contemplative.

Asking myself:

Did our marraige not work because it wasn't meant to be, or am I just not "marraige" material?
Did I give up too soon?
Wasn't life with him better then life is now?
Why did it end?

I know the answers to all these questions.

I think I just feel a dysfunctional compulsion to punish myself.
To doubt myself.
To crucify myself.

"Would-be" events often take on a larger meaning then the actual event itself would have taken on. In the end, today is just another day.

And another day to continue

My slow,

But steady

Progress,

Towards

A fulfilling existence.

My MP3 is talking to me

I am having a heard time lately.
I'm having a hard time thinking
Hard time feeling.

My MP3 player is an extension of me. I have around 4000 songs on it, of every genre, and O basically take it everywhere I go. In the car, in the office, in the kitchen, my MP3 is playing. Continuously. My ex-husband used to call it my "sountrack to life."

Lately, it seems my MP3 player is intune with my feelings.

8:30 am, on my way to work:

Everything's so blurry.
Everyone's so fake
Everybody's empty
And everything is so messed up.
Preoccupied without you
I can not live at all.
(Blurry - Puddle of Mudd)

Yesterday, on the treadmill:

I am barely breathing
I can't find the air.
I don't know who I'm kidding
Imagining you care.
I could stand here waiting
A fool for another.
I don't suppose it's worth the price I'll pay.
But I'm thinking it over
Anyway.
Cause I am barely breathing.
(Barely Breathing - Toad the Wet Sprocket)


First thing this morning:

I'm all out of faith.
This os how I feel.
I'm cold and I'm ashamed
Lieing naked on the floor.
The illusion never changed
Into something real.
I'm wide awake
And I can see
The perfect sky is torn.
You're a little late
I'm already torn.
(Torn - Natalie Imbruglia)

On my way home from work today (during which I handled my first complete docket):

I am walking on the bridge
I am over the water
And I'm scared as hell
But I know there's something better
Yes I know
Yes I know
Yes I know
(Me - Paula Cole)

My Dysfunctionalism (and if that is not a word - it is now!)

I am handling this break-up quite poorly.

I am not following my stages.

I am having days of strength and resiliences, followed by hours of dysfunctionalism, during which I manage to obliterate every bit of progress I've made.

So, T and I decided to be "friends." This whole idea is blasphemous to begin with. He comes over last week. We fool around, but I refuse sex. He sleeps in my bed, naked. He sucks on my nipples.

When two dysfuctional people, both with no boundaries, decide to break-up and be "jut friends" disaster is sure to ensue.

He continuously tells me he loves me. That he's getting therapy. That he wants to better himself. That I'm his soul mate.

These are the word that draw out the injured little girl in me. The girl that is dysfunctional, defenseless, naive, and stupid. The little girl who was sexually abused at the age of 4. The little girl who was abandoned by her father at age 5, when he took his own life to save mine (or so the suicide note said.) The little girl who lost her virginity at age 14 while on her first date, in the back-seat of a car, through violence and force. And who stayed with the man who raped her for 3 years. She is a part of me. She is defenseless.

And T has learned how to summon her.

This defenseless little girl has spent the weekend in her PJ's crying. Terrified to shower, because many of the horrendous things that happened to her in her early childhood happened in the shower. Terrified to leave the house.

And, T never called.

I was abandoned again.

The floodgates are open. I called and called and called. I reduced myself to a pathetic woman, begging for the attention of a man who does not deserve me.

Now I hate myself.

That little girl is me. and she does not know what to do.

Help me please!

What love is. What love isn't.

What is love?

In my 30 years, I do not think I've come close to being able to define what love is.

I feel I have, however, learned what love isn't.

Love is not something you just say.
Love is not temporary, fleeting, or fickle.
Love is not easy all the time.
Love is not a word, but rather an action.

Don't tell me you love me to make me smile.
Don't tell me you love me to make me feel secure.
Don't tell me you love me to fill your own void.

Show me you love me
With every thing you do
With every thing you don't do
With every action you take
With every breath you breathe

The words
"I love you"
ring hollow,
my love.

I need more.

Legal Advice: Seek Therapy

As I approach my end goal of becoming "Kinky Catholic Girl, Esquire," I have become more and more observant to the connotations that the word "lawyer" stirs up in people.

A great majority of the population, it seems, HATES lawyers. It does not matter if you are an attorney who defends rapists, or writes wills, or prosecutes criminals, or represents children in abuse cases. Part of becoming a lawyer is just accepting being hated. Period.

When I am at a bar and strike up a conversation with a man, I always dread the inevitable question:

"So what do you do for a living?"

I honestly think I am going to start telling men I am a prostitute or a trash-collector. The whole never-ending "Kill all lawyers" spiel is getting old already . . . And I'm not even a lawyer yet.

Then, there are those people who, upon hearing you are a law student, try to solicit free legal advice. First off, I am not yet a lawyer, and I can not give legal advice. Second, even if I was a lawyer right now, no competent attorney can give off-the-cuff legal advice without any legal research on the subject. Especially after doing 5 "Lemon-Drop" shots.

The most annoying though, I have found, are persons that actually want personal advice, but, for some reason or another, frame it as seeking legal advice.

For example, one day I was in a diner, wearing my "Law School" sweatshirt. The waiter actually SITS DOWN at my table and tells me his life story. He worked with a girl for a week, she moved into his house, she fucked his father, then she left with his money and stole his marijuana.

My best advice?

Seek therapy.

Second piece of advice?

Not a great idea to tell a prosecutor about your drug use

Third piece of advice?

Don't quit your job as a waiter.

Then there was this man one day behind me in the grocery store. Again, I was wearing a damn "Law School" shirt. He started scrutinizing the cost of every item as the cashier as she was ringing it through:

"You spend 6.49 on cheese?" (It was my favorite goat cheese)
"Now I know why my divorce attorney charged me so much. I hate lawyers."

All this criticism used to bother me. I used to feel a compulsion to argue the point. Now I just chuckle and think to myself...

Yeah, buddy, but some day you may need me...
And when that day comes...
I will be worth a lot to you...
Like $350 and hour