What I See in the Mirror

I sit here and stair blankly at my iPad, my Galaxy Note S II, my laptop, my TV, whatever is in my view.  My thoughts have taken me prisoner.  Even now, I stare at my blogger page without certainty of what will develop.  What haven't I already said?  What haven't I already dramatized? What haven't I already felt, thought, said, wrote, believed, expressed, forced, or grasped for?  I've been on this track.  I've told this story.  So, why am I STILL here?? 

I look at my reflection in the mirror and see how the sorrow and humiliation and embarrassment have aged me.  I look terrible.  I force a smile.  I tell myself that I love that beautiful, tired, spent woman I see.  I do love that broken, beaten down, and completely lost woman I see.  I do.  I feel compassion more than you know for what she's been through.  But I don't know how to reach her.  I wish to scream out to her to just MOVE!  Yet, I know already she would not hear.

My eyes used to be blue and sparkle with mischief.  My face once had vibrancy and life.  I've grown thin and am now the shadow of who I once was.  How I became so lost in my mind I can't determine.  How I allowed this depression to squeeze the life out of my eyes I can't explain.  I am not this weak.  I don't let these things happen to me.  This isn't how things are done.  Yet, the reality that I am this weak, and that I did let these things happen to me, and that this is how I'm doing things embarrasses me.  I don't want to be this way.  I don't want to be so weak that my body reflects my despair. My eyes are black and my face is drawn and tragic.

I am left ashamed for letting self-pity swallow me whole.  I am embarrassed that I don't know what to do or how to do it.  I see what you see.  I am not blind nor am I in denial.  What do you see when you look in the mirror?   

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World's shortest blog

"As I struggle through this thing they call the holidays, I see you are struggling, too.  If my hurt is like your own, I love you for that, and that alone." - In My Looking Glass

Though I'm having difficulty focusing my emotions and thoughts to write to you, today, I will do my best to cut the crap and get to it.

 This Christmas sucks ass. 

The end.

5 Reasons I'll Fail At Dating

Let me be brutally honest, unapologetically superficial, and unrealistically idealistic. In other words, let me blog!

After being asked several times what it is I'm looking for in a man, I decided I should probably figure that out. What a novel idea to make this venture in dating about what I want!

(Thanks for the nudge, guys from dating site who have asked. Let me spend an entire day obsessing over it, writing and rewriting until my hand seizes up and falls off. I'll get back to you.)

Disclaimer: Dating site Laurie is delicate with her approach to honesty. Blog Laurie is a cunt.

1. In the beginning... you must be hot

If you are an attractive-to-me Caucasian American over the age of 30 who is taller than 5'9" and live in ND, congratulations! You are granted chat status. If you are remotely interesting and elude to a date being in my near future, I may even accept your offer to text your phone. This chat status is only good for 48 hours after which you will be kicked to the curb if you haven't asked me out.

2. Jumping hurdles - drinks anyone?

If you are willing to meet at a bar-and-grill type venue for a couple drinks and nothing more, you've passed hurdle one. If you've made me laugh and have understood my jokes, you're even closer. If you've made zero refrences to fucking me or exchanging naked pictures, you've crossed the finish line to drinks with me.

3. The elimination round - do not pass go.  Do not collect $200

No gamers, sports freaks, avid hunters/fishermen, bikers, men who want children, men without children, conservative Republicans, religious zealots, atheists, addicts (recovering or otherwise), porn lovers, men who listen to talk radio on the AM dial (see conservative Republican), sexist racists (see conservative Republican), or men who want to get married.

4. The bonus round - moving beyond drinks

If you've survived my already ridiculous list of requirements and eliminators, you can now play the bonus round. If you smoke weed but are not a pothead, if you meditate, or if you use one of my own wise-cracks against me, you've solidified date two. If you do all three of those things, you'll likely get laid on date one. If you do none of those things, take me home James. Goodnight! Better luck next time.

5. Let's talk business - future projections

Shit's about to get deep, so put on your waders. (If you actually own waders, see #3.) This is the true blue, unrealistic, comprehensive list of what I'm looking for in a man beyond numbers 1-4. And I mean a real man, a man worthy of my loyalty and dedication, a man worthy of my children, a man worth sharing the rest and best years of my life.

Rocks my world sexually - I have unforgiving expectations in this area and honestly believe this will never happen. If I find a man who can do this, then I can look further.

Has a close relationship with his family and children - note: must have children.

Is financially stable and established within the community.

Is open and honest without prompting or prying.

Interacts easily with strangers.

Anticipates the needs of others and acts on them.

Takes pride in his role as the man of the house and motivated by that pride to perform "man duties."

Offers compliments to strangers as well as love ones.

Is a sharp dresser who wears Cologne.

Shows obvious pride that my kids and I are his.

Is sincerely interested in my children's lives.

Is my strongest ally and constant defender.

Perhaps there is no man who fits into my mold of perfection. Perhaps I will live out my days as a single woman. Perhaps I am too picky. But I'm hoping that the one requirement I don't have, the obvious and expected need I readily sacrifice, will allow just enough space for a man to survive my list and be my life companion. That one thing you didn't even notice I didn't require? Love.

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Q & A: Is It You? Or Is It Me?

Did you determine that I've proven myself to be unraveling before the eyes of the world?

Did you decide my honesty reveals my mental instability?

Do you choose silence as your response to my life because you're afraid I might contaminate you?

Are my confessions upsetting only because I have made them public? Or, are they upsetting because they're real?

Have you even talked to me about my blog and how it makes you feel? Or is that discussion reserved for anyone but me?

Did you miss the part where I chose to trust in you as my friend?

Did you become confused and decide these blogs weren't meant for you directly?

Or am I the one determining, deciding, choosing, fearing contaminants, avoiding, and confusing things?

Maybe I am unraveling. But you are watching it with judgment. I know who I'd rather be.

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"The Last Lie" followed by "The Last Supper"

"If you fly your own prostitute from London to Cancun, you can avoid being stuck with the above...if that's your thing...your girlfriend will never know!" ~ sarcastic, bitter hag

I couldn't believe it when you lied to me, again.  I stood there, stunned, frozen in time.  How easily and nonchalantly you lied. How insignificantly the act of deceit rolled out into words. My heart sank, than raged with anger! And, then, something surreal, unexpected, and soul-altering passed over me, into me, and through me. It was a bottom dropping out.  It was a water balloon popping. It was too much air being released. It was a tea pot letting loose its whistle as the pressure from the steam shoots out. I lost what I had been struggling to hold. My grip was forced open and these things were ripped away - forever gone. Never mine. Taken back.

It was but a second in physical time. I blinked, perhaps. Then I smiled, and carried on preparing a meal for us. I cooked, we ate, and I allowed you to sit there thinking you had successfully deceived me, yet again.  I let you feel safe and secure with your idea of my ignorance. I watched you eat, and I listened to you talk to me and carry on as though all was right with the universe. I couldn't believe it.  I just couldn't believe it.  How audacious you were. How ridiculous you began to look.  I sat there, watching this all, bouncing from the moment with you as you ate my meal to times past. My mind computed an immediate find and replace all. Find the you I wanted to see and replace all with the you that was before me, oblivious and calm.  

It changed everything. Memories of why I had felt as I had started to slip away like a dream you slowly lose upon waking. Today, reflecting upon all of this, I look back at myself, my actions, my desperate hopes, and I cannot find the motivation for any of it, anymore.  Was I in a trance? Had I hypnotized myself into a life I now don't understand even existed? How had I allowed myself to be so used, so taken advantage of, so foolish, so unbelievably different than I became in that second you lied without a bit of hesitation? The old memories were plucked out to be replaced with reality. I once was blind, but now I see. Is this the amazing grace of hymns?  

When the meal was finished, I gathered my boots, my coat, my dignity, my self-respect, my self-esteem, my purse, and my future. I wondered what you might be thinking as you watched me bundle up to leave without so much as a word or reason.  I wondered if you even felt the least amount of guilt or regret.  Did it even dawn on you that I set you up to lie? Did you understand you failed the final exam? But the new me snuffed the wonder out before the wick took hold of the flame. I didn't care. And, that, too, I couldn't believe. And, with my new sense of self and my new understanding of just who you really were, I said, "I'm leaving," and there I went.

I have been relieved from duty, released from prison, rewarded for good behavior, permitted to wake up. Time to wake up. Time to move on. I surrendered myself to the universe, and they gave me back only love. Goodbye...to what?  I've forgotten, somehow.

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Here's a Number of These Things

1. Deciding on a new career at 39 after 3 years of being out of my field (fancy for "stay-at-home-mom") sucks.

2. Being a single mom, on the other hand, is awesome! I don't care what anyone says. I'm 100% THEE parent, and as an admitted control freak, that's happiness.

3. Dating is not what they make it look like on TV (what is?). I've done very little, but have been rethinking that. I was talking with my 9 year old daughter about it last night, and she said, "Maybe God doesn't want you to date anyone." Rethinking complete.

4. Why the hell am I up and blogging at 4:30am?! As ex husband two always said (he was a doll - which is why you haven't heard about him), me and my big brain.

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A Little Something About Souls

When humanity is stripped away, when human motives are removed and all that's left is the love of a soul...I mean pure love, the light of the universe love...the soul receiving that love and light can be seen clearly by God.

I thought I lost, but it was never meant to be about me. Love won. I have forgotten the "why" of it all. Why? I can't seem to find the answer any more. Love won and the fight is over. My time to be involved ended I guess. I can't explain myself but I had to try so I could sleep.

I just have a sense of completion and success I can't describe. It's stronger than my hurt and it's like I just woke up from a dream. Time to get up. Time to move on. I wonder if any of it was real. I don't care how ill received this may be. You're the only soul I have who knows enough. How many people do you think can see past a human and see only their soul? I wonder that.

Loss of a Child

"When fear touches someone's pain, it becomes pity. When love touches someone's pain, it becomes compassion. " -Stephen Levine

In my desperation to figure out how to get past that love and heart ache of mine, I put to the side a necessary blog about another very important event that makes shit suck ass. Aside from further explaining why shit sucks ass, it has also permanently changed me and has devastated my dear friend, Natasha, and her family.

June 11, 2013 I received a phone call that paralyzed me. I answered to hear my friend, Teri, utter two words I couldn't quite register.

"Kira died."

I said, "What?" not because I did not hear her, but because my brain rejected what my ears heard.

"Kira died."

Kira is the first born daughter to the amazing, genius, crazy crafter, and my dearly beloved friend, Natasha. Kira was only 14 years young, and she just dropped dead. Poof. Gone. Permanent. Dead. Forever. Reason unknown. Dead before she hit the ground.

Though I did not really know Kira, I certainly knew her mother. And the realization of the pain she would now endure for the rest of her life ruined me, because nothing I could ever do or say would fix this. No amount of hugs, late night talks, or any other normal friend responses to set backs and tragedies would even touch on relieving her grief. My paralysis came from my love for her and my knowledge of love for one's children.

People often say things like, "I just couldn't imagine." when I tell them about it. Or, "I just don't know what I'd do if that happened to me." All pity, all discomfort, all relief it wasn't them.

You know what? I CAN imagine. I do know what I'd do. Every day that Natasha wakes up, she's minus 1 of 4. Every night she goes to bed, she's minus 1 of 4. Everything she does and every day she does it, she is minus 1 of 4. I've watched Natasha struggle and hurt and cope and have set backs and move forward and fall back and laugh and cry and reminisce. For many, the sorrow, the rallying of support, the text messages of condolences, the phone calls of concern, the invitations to visit all but halted after Kira's funeral. Time passes, people move on, the concern fades and Natasha is left in silence still minus 1 of 4.

Not a day goes by, since that call, that I do not think about being without one of my three babies - minus 1 of 3. Not a day goes by that I do not think about Natasha having that hole in her life, heart, soul. How can I not think of it? She is living this nightmare, and I along with her. I CAN imagine what it would be like because I force myself to imagine what it would be like. It would be permanent devastation. It IS permanent devastation. It's a loss that will never fade with time and a loss that deserves great respect.

I have never pitied Natasha. I've never even really felt sorry for her. Those feelings are too back seat. I've only ever been completely crushed right along with her. I wake at night and wonder, is she curled in a ball on the floor sobbing? Is she sleeping fitfully dreaming of Kira? Is she awake, pouring herself into a project to numb her mind and heart? Is she sleeping, unaware and peaceful? People who say they could never imagine never try. I can imagine because I do.

The very least I can do for my dear friend is to imagine being minus 1 of 3. Every day. Every night. At the grocery store. At the post office. Alone in my bed at night. When I get my 3 of 3 ready for school. Every time I breath. Because that's how often she lives it. 

And the loudest prayer I give up to the universe is that she never has an "I forgot she was dead" moment. Because the "I remembered all over again" moment is like hearing those two words for the first time, all over again. "Kira died."

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3 Ways the Internet Saved My Life

"Things change. And friends leave.  Life doesn't stop for anybody." Stephen Chbosky

During my lunacy of being a psycho internet stalker, trying to find everywhere that weasel of an ex had been lurking and hunting for sex, an entire new world opened before my eyes.  The internet became more than just a facebook interface.  It took on an entire life and I was appalled and mesmerized all at once.  I discovered forums, blogs, discussion boards, Google+, and that 99.9% of websites have an affiliation to some sort of dating and/or sex site.  Believe it or not, some web businesses are actually just fronts for sex and pornography.  #eyeswideshut

Sex sells, yes.  But we all knew that.  I also discovered much more than all that.  I started to see trends in what people discussed, noticed high traffic areas and realized what brought internet users to those places.  It became an unveiling of sorts; almost as if I was on the outside of the twisted mess that is the web seeing it as a whole living thing.  And then I started my blog which leads me to how the internet saved my life:

1.  "Thee" Blog and My Reflection (www.whyshitsucksass.blogspot.com - you know the one!)

Much to the dismay of my steady readers, I had to delete the original 12 blogs for possible future legal proceedings (that's an entirely different blog to come after that insanity is over).  Even though the original posts are not there, putting those feelings in words and sharing my truth with anyone and everyone who wanted to read about it was liberating.  What I didn't expect was that I would find myself along the way.  Thank you, dear friend, crazy crafter, and soon to be my first web marketing client, Natasha Davies Shipman.  (the blog was her idea!)

2.  Honesty is the Best Policy (so suck it fake haters!)

Anyone who knows me, knows that I already had a blunt and loud personality.  But writing all those blogs about things we don't say, lies we tell and why, the hidden feelings we pretend aren't there made me see how I hadn't even been being honest with myself, let alone others.  It changed me to the point that, now, I'm not loud and blunt.  Now I'm honest and realistic...yeah, still loud!  But, until I found myself, I didn't even know what my true feelings were.  And I am really starting to love the person I found.

3.  Connecting with People - The Key to Life and Success

I don't care if this one does sound like a seminar title that you would want to fall asleep in, or play candy crush on your device the entire time, it is the third most amazing and important thing I discovered.  I was able to look beyond my miniscule 1' x 1' back yard to a whole world of people all looking for a common thread; hoping to feel like a part of something.  I didn't even know I needed that until it fell upon me in my curiosity over Google+.  I realized that if I can successfully connect with people, I can successfully market anything on the internet. 

The above doesn't really do justice to my discovery of self, the truth within me, and my understanding of the internet and the people who use it.  But I hope it did at least a half-assed job of getting the point across.

Next adventure???  Stay tuned to find out.  

Please, no! Not another gluten blog!

Yes, but not just any gluten blog! It's my crazy-ass gluten blog! Might be fun.

Top 3 reasons this shit is pissing me off:

1. "You're so vain" - Carly Simon

The fact that having a small patch of red irritated skin on my face can keep me from drinking my daily beer (you have no idea!), has opened my eyes to my own vanity. The beer did, however, win out one night. Drank that six pack like I was straight out of the desert! Decided after that, well, you're already going to have a rash, so you might as well enjoy yourself and have pizza, and a sandwich, and some cookies. Vanity has since taken over, and after four days of zero gluten (do we really trust our ingredient lists?) my gluten binge outbreak is finally disappearing.

2. I'm frickin' starvin' up in heeeyyaaah!

Since this is a recent discovery, I have yet to become an expert in all things gluten free.  More exactly, I have yet to become an expert in all things gluten.  That shit is like an evil bacteria in almost everything I love! The more days that pass, the more I learn about exactly how hungry I will become before I break down, admit it, and start being suzie homemaker with rice flour cakes and millet flower cookies. Sigh. I'm barely maintaining normalcy as it is! Now I have to drastically change the way I cook and eat?  Getting ... weak ...so....hungry ...and lazzzzy!

3.  Monsanto and Obamacare

Okay, I won't get up on a soap box about Monsanto. You can read all about them by searching #evilempire or #playinggod or, perhaps, #geneticallyalteredfood. For any reader unfamiliar with Monsanto, I blame them for the mutant version of gluten that is actually in our food supply today. I mean, I can't think about health issues from my food supply! The only thing I know about obamacare is that you will be fined if you don't purchase a plan. My plan was to be lazy and just let them fine me. But, now, with Monsanto ruling the world, I'm going to have to educate myself on obamacare.
Damn it all!!!

In conclusion, if I don't kick this Monsanto engineered gluten habit, I will suffer from an internal struggle: taste buds versus vanity, not only will I need a psychiatrist, I will need a dermatologist. And I don't know if obamacare covers Monsanto related illness!!! Someone find me that contract.

Obama twenty twelve!!!

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4 Must Knows About Cyberstalking

1. Dedicate your time.

Spend at least 28 straight hours researching your obsession.

2. Know user names.

The more user names you know, or can predict properly, the more successful your cyber stalking will be.

3. Search "Discussions."

Don't bother with the Web or image search options. Your want the real juice? You want the real nitty gritty?  That's where it's at.

4. Don't expect to like or ever forget what you find.

If you are of the "ignorance is bliss" type, don't apply.   If you are of the "I am appalled but can't stop searching" type, happy cyber stalking to you! 

I forgot about droilfield. Is that guilt I hear?

I finally learned something. It took a PhD in metaphysical science from Montana to really drill it home. Yes, reader, in more ways than one. That second drilling only happened once. Because I am spoiled and expect perfection.

What did I learn? That I should come with a warning label. I may be as lethal as American cigarettes. I may not destroy lungs and kill people, but I may destroy hearts and kill dreams. Go on one two hour date, have unbelievable conversation, kiss like you've never kissed someone before, text for hours after, see each other again the next day, have I-really-regret-having-sex-with-you sex, avoid him at all costs, and destroy a heart and kill a dream. Sorry Jeremy droilfield. #pui #hilleby

Is that guilt I feel? Guilt means you acknowledge to karma you've done something wrong. It's forgivable when that was not your intention, but karma still heard the guilt and will certainly act on it.  

I intended to...
What I meant was...

No excuses once karma hears your guilt. 

Sweep those pills under the rug!

"So much for family.  It's much easier to cast someone out than to deal with things.  Talking about feelings, showing concern, giving hugs, offering to help when someone's troubled...uck! Those things make you uncomfortable.  Being raised by a cold-hearted, hateful man who would only ridicule feelings if they were shown, who would only punish if you talked about goals; well, that's what happens.  You develop a coping technique called "don't give a shit."  Same goes when you're married to someone like that, too.  Let's just all avoid any such nonsense.  Let the alpha male rule and destroy love.  Good job, alpha male.  You've turned out such an incredibly warm family unit.  Good job."

Me?  Well, while they have all decided to sweep those pills under the rug, I've decided to do the exact opposite much to my targets dismay.  I refuse to let a day go by, a conversation go by without bringing it up.  I will constantly remind my target that the pills are right there on the floor.  I will continually lift up that rug, and show him that they are still there.  But I will do it with love and understanding.  I will be kind.  But I will still say it.  I will be patient and gentle.  But I will still acknowledge the pills are there. 

Them?  Well, they can just keep on keeping on ignoring. It means they don't have to feel guilty for not helping.  Ignoring it means they can be justified in inaction.  Ignoring it means they can be judgmental of behavior that otherwise does not make sense.  Ignoring it means they can blame him and never have to look back at what they could've/should've done but didn't.  Because they were too busy ignoring.  Ignorance is bliss.

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Betrayal of a Brother

 

Betrayal of a Brother

I've decided to approach this from a new angle.  If having your life "all over the internet" is cause to be fired, then I've decided I will start blogging about your pussy ass.  My new mission is to get you fired, you piece of shit opportunist.

You want to avoid the real issue at hand?  You want to blame me?  Okay, let's do that.  Let's blame my posts about being terribly hurt as a reason to cast out your brother as a partner in his company.  Let's blame my posts about his character as a reason for you to become a traitor.  Now, what that means is, I get to post all sorts of shit about your life, now, and, in turn, your company will have to disassociate itself from you, as well.  That is the logic we are using, right?

I'm a no holds barred kind of gal, don't know if you've noticed.  This is my warning shot.  My next blog is going to be all about your dysfunction as an emotionless droid.  Trust me, there are a lot of things I can say about you that will want your company to get rid of you, too. Or perhaps I will catch you off guard in a way you deserve and could never anticipate.

Seriously.  Who do you think you're kidding to feel so justified? You are an opportunist piece of shit. And I will contribute to making that known.

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