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Therapy Monday! Like riding a bike, right? You just get back on and go even if you haven’t ridden in 20 years and your legs hurt just looking at it?

So, big news. No, that builds it up too much. Let’s just call it kind of news.

I did it! I had the hardest conversation I’ve ever had with my doctor. And I know you’re thinking, this conversation shouldn’t be that hard. Unless you’ve been in my situation, in which case you know what I’m talking about.I went in for a physical last Friday and fessed up. This anxiety thing is too much. It’s impeding my ability to enjoy pretty much anything I’m supposed to be enjoying and that sucks. It’s starting to fill my head with images that could play out on the national news and that sucks. It’s to the point that I’m actually anxious about being anxious and THAT SUCKS.

When I put it this way, asking for help sounds very reasonable. But there’s nothing to be anxious about…yet. <—-see, right there?! That’s the shit this bitch will do to you!

A real reason to feel anxious = hanging off the side of a mountain while doing higher math. eech.

Anyway, what? Right. The conversation – there’s nothing to be anxious about. So, when I started the conversation with my doctor, I essentially said, “Hi. Yes, that’s great my blood pressure is athlete low. Oh, my cough is clearing up. Excellent, excellent. sooo…I’m having trouble coping…”

Which sounds completely ridiculous and the minute it was out,  I wanted to take it back. Be all, just kid-ding! Of course I can manage the daily dealings of life. HAHA, Christmas? No problem, who freaks out about Christmas, RIGHT? Hahahahaohmygodhelpmepleasexmas the crowds, ohhhh, the crowds

But the truth was (x-files) out there.  My doctor was adorably caring and concerned. He asked me about symptoms and I’ll list them here so you can know. My main physical manifestation is in my stomach. As in, it feels like a million rapid dogs ripping their way out.  I also get bad headaches and, occasionally, a racing heart. Emotional manifestations include anger and more anger and being irritated at flies. Flies are everywhere, I don’t understand that at all. Where do they come from and why do they suddenly get in my face? Psychological manifestations (these are the worst) include being sure something insanely horrible is going to happen and then picture the insanely horrible thing that for no reason feels completely real. Even though it isn’t.

Again, when I write it out like that, the problem sounds very dramatic and urgent.

But then I have to add – that’s my reactions…to…life. And I feel stupid.

My doctor clarified the largest freak outs by explaining that when a person is under stress (read: life) and more stress is added on top of that (read: effing mall at christmas), person’s brain has a chemical meltdown. He didn’t say meltdown because he’s professional but you get the drift. The result is an anxiety attack. Finally,he gave me a questionnaire from a big stack of questionnaires  – isn’t it nice to know you aren’t the only one? That like, an entire stack of people need help.

I answered as honestly as I could and he very patiently discussed options with me.

Doctor: You know yourself and this is your body.

Me: So what should I do????

Doctor: I can only give you the information to make a decision. I can’t make the decision for you.

Me: This is making me really anxious. Do these options come in direct injections? Also, I’ll need a monkey to inject me because I don’t like needles. They make me very nervous. God, this is, just…hard. Are injection monkeys covered by insurance?

Doctor: No.

In the end, I decided to go with lorazepam to treat the occasions of overwhelming anxiety. I chose this over daily medication for several reasons. Mainly, I take measures that I find effective to control the daily stuff in my own way, ways like exercise and water and other tricks (I’ll elaborate in comments if you want me to). I assured the doctor that, since lorazepam is addictive, if I find myself needing it more than every couple weeks or so I would call him.

I will if I need to. The great thing about hard conversations is that once you have them, it’s easier to have the next one.

What conversation have you had with your doctor or someone else that was incredibly hard but that you were happy you had it? If you haven’t had that conversation, what do you think is holding you back? Also, feel free to list your current medications. Or if you have questions about lorezepam, I’ll try to answer them from a patient point of view. OR leave stories of the time when lorezepam was used so you could spend less money at the bar and still get really really drunk. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.


Yes. Remember when I used to post here? And remember when it was pretty often? Then not so often? Then not at all? Remember that?

I feel like I’ve had this conversation with you before.

Well you can blame the silence on my mother. For real. Not in the hee hee joke it’s the mother’s fault way but the real she put the fear of Jeebus in me way. Because she was all, ‘Sadie don’t you think you might get your ass fired for putting up pictures of naked unicorn men? or Sadie don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate to admit to stalking satan disquised as sexy politician? or Sadie aren’t you worried that someone will see this and your family will be out on the street?’

Uhhh, well now I am.

Also, she doesn’t really talk like that.

I’m a little nervous posting this. Anxiety ratcheting up at the thought of the someone noticing me…

but what can you do?

Stop posting I guess. No. Yes. No.  – you see the struggle? I’m in a pissing contest with my rational self and my fantasy self. So you tell me, is it concerning having a blog and working?  I don’t know.

But today, I’m just going to let it fly. I’m going to try to get back in that fancy horse saddle and eat a dick.

Sorry mom.

Sorry boss.

Thank you doctor who is all, ‘you know they have medication for your problems?’

I will try to post more and stuff.

The other problem was that I forgot my password. But, clearly, I remembered it today – I think that’s a sign.

No pictures with this post. Laaaazzzzyyy.

Just a heads up – this is a parenting post. I know. Those suck balls. I’m so so sorry. But I told you right off the bat so if you are childess you can go back to wondering if you should screw your no-really-he’s-just-my-best-friend roommate or the hot Asian guy in Starbucks. I wish I had your problems.

Also, if you are considering spawning, you should probably skip this post.

The truth is, sometimes children are miraculous little butterflies that flit around your face and you love them and you think ridiculous thoughts like, ‘my children are the greatest, most beautiful, most effervescent, most minty (holler Steph!) things on earth. No, in the UNIVERSE!’ This is a great batch of feelings. It comes complete with hugs and elevated self esteem <—-because they must be so awesome thanks to me.

And then, then, they like….flip their shit. Always both at the same time. Two weeks ago I was riding high on kick ass kiddiesness. Then, Fox, who up to this point was kind of cruising along in underwear ok, minus the whole poop thing (oh god I hate when people talk about that on their blogs – ergo I hate myself) Anyway, daycare handles that aspect. Then, last night, he just up and pees on the carpet. It seriously sent me over the swing set. Past annoyed, past angry and right on over to hilarious. I swing on some fucked up mental playgrounds. Clearly.

So I’m laughing and dying inside because potty training is the worst thing to ever exist.  I have serious doubts that this child even knows what planet he’s on half the time and so how do I reach him? I mean, he pulled down his underwear and just…let it fly. WTF <—-the f stands for FUUUUUUCCCCKKK

Navigating to Mars. His real home.

Then later he peed in the pants and took them off, carefully put them in the dirty clothes pile and stated, “I handled it.” So now I get to say F to You internet message board which told me if a child pees to make them ‘handle it’ and they will hate dealing with ickyness and they will want to use the potty. For Fox, it’s an out.

I’m just so frustrated. To make things worse, I have underwear eyes. You know when you are wanting to be pregnant, you see preggos every where you go? Or when you want a Kia Soul suddenly there are 50 thousand of them on the road? Like that. Only with cute children in their cute underwear and their goddamn cute smiling pee free parents.

And don’t even get me started on Leo. He’s about to get his ass straight kicked out of daycare. I’m not even kidding about that. That’s another post.

This is what it looks like two seconds before he pulls his shirt off and slaps you to the ground.

So I’m tired and stressed and exhausted and waaaaaaaahhhhh. This Saturday Danny is going to UFO Field Investigators training all day, leaving me with his children. It makes me want to sob, on the floor – except I can’t – because it has pee on it.


I also realize when I write statements like, “Danny is going to UFO Field Investigators training all day” without even thinking about it, that maybe there’s a reason my children are kind of strange and alien.

First, an update: It is still sub-zero but thanks to several layers, heavy pants, socks and Wuggs – I’m doing ok.  thanks for asking.

Now onward to the new thing that’s making my life helllll.

Car trouble.

ukla;goafhgio0al ngfofjdlksajf lzsd goddamn CAR TROUBLE

Ladies, am I right?  Sorry, that was sexist.

It turns out my beloved 1999 Saturn is terminal. This is really really sad and I am really really sad about it. It’s  complete news to me because I thought she was purring along just fine. The following conversations led to the diagnosis:

Danny: Your car is leaking something.

Me: It is? I hadn’t noticed. Whatever.

Danny: No, leaking is bad.

Me: In people. Leaking is bad, in people. In cars it’s just like…condensation.

To save you the boring end result which included a fight over mechanics aka car doctors aka pain in my ASS – leaking is bad in people and cars. So we were both right. I’m very rarely completely wrong – except in this conversation:

Danny: Your check engine light is on.

Me: Yeah it does that. I like it, it’s pretty.  And don’t worry, check engine lights don’t mean anything.

Check engine lights do mean things. Terrible things. Things like expiration date and no point in taking any other measures and the worst thing of all

Danny: We need a new car.

ajlfa ndfklaj klfha lkfd l;fhd aljsd

Have you ever seen those creepy dustbowl era apple dolls? That’s how I feel when I think about new cars. Like a shriveled dusty assugly apple doll. Everything about buying a new car is trouble. There’s so many decisions and all I care about is safety. Because. Duh.

So it’s back and forth with Danny going on about some sink thing that I’m still unclear about and me going on about IIHS and how marginal is not ok, marginal might be ok when talking about a one night stand or a catered office party but is is NOT OK when talking about car safety.

Then, out of the madness, a whisper


What’s that you say?


Isn’t that Korean? nothati’mracistkoreaiscool


Specifically, the Kia Soul. Ah, Soul. Kia Soul.

So safe.

So affordable.

So fugs.

I kind of love it.

Kia Soul - hairless cat of the car world.

And Danny kind of agrees. Only he doesn’t want lime green. I know, it doesn’t register with me either. It’s like, if you have the choice of lime green, why the why wouldn’t you take it?

While I’m imagining myself cruising around in my lime green Kia Awesome, towing my beloved purple Saturn behind me for nostalgia, Danny keeps sending me links. So I guess I’ll take it to you guys, what car would you recommend? Fantasy land so throw whatever you want out.

This is all dependent on us getting a loan of course. Which will never happen. Thanks much grad school you expensive bitch.

And now, to close out the post-

Actual hairless cat, ironically resting on a hairy rug.

Oh, and did you notice that you can now post these gems to your facebook? or the twitspace or whatever? You can even email them! Doesn’t your mother need some Free Therapy? You know she does.

Shit is getting weird.

It’s like I have this life right? And this life pretty much consists of chasing babies, and doing training and wondering if Christopher Pike ever got my fan letter then wondering why I’m wondering about Christopher Pike when I should be wondering why my goddamn hernia is back. But then I forget that and start wondering about manufacturing powerdered cream and if they put the flavoring in first or last. I mean, do they make specific batches of hazelnet and vanilla or is it one big batch and then the vanilla or hazelnut flavor blasts are added later?

Important questions.

So life is rolling along smoothly when BAM!

Weird shit.

All everywhere and unignorable. And I’m very good at ignoring things. Things like Danny. Who by the way, is confused by email.

I know.


Weird started when Danny virtually informed me that there was a scorpion on the back porch. Mother effer NO.

Scorpions are some southwest nonsense. They are reason #3456 not to visit Texas.  They are meant to be painted in sequins on the jacket of some leathery Santa Fe retiree. They are not supposed to bring their evil asses to Oklahoma!

Go ahead, it will relieve the tension.

Except now they do. To make matters ever worse, it was a small one and Danny killed it. You are saying, ‘what’s the problem there Sadie?’

The problem there imaginary internet friend, is that that little scorpion was probably the scout. So now, when he doesn’t return all his bigger scorpion buddies will know that they have to be stealth bombers in this invasion. So instead of crawling up my backyard where I can fire bomb them they will drop down in my shower and I will FREAK OUT and they will crawl in my ears Christopher Pike style and that will be that.

As usual, the Japanese have already prepared for the insanity - with guns, ambigious sexuality, and prisons.

I don’t have time to worry about this weirdness.

Then this already red state had to go completely batshit insane and elect all red, even in my district. Which should not have happened. Seriously. Everyone said that would not happen. But. it. did.


Finally, Fox has decided that he is various types of bugs. All, ‘oh mommy I’m a little spider and you are a big spider.” and “These pajamas make me a bee! Say goodnight bee, mommy, say goodnight bee – say it!”

That’s some messed up scorpion alliance talk right there.

How’s the weird on your end?

I don’t know if you follow the headlines but there was this hurricane thing? And the guys here were all omjesus people, PANIC! There will be flooding and news footage.  There will be biblical downpours and poor children in Walmart floaties. There will be car accidents and possibly, hopefully drowned kittens.

Get out your oil lamps! Everyone needs an oil lamp right?

Head for the hills Hermione – no, what? It’s not the girl from Harry Potter who’s supposed to be ‘ugly’ but is really hot? It’s Hermine? What the hell kind of name – whatever. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!

Hurricanes are really just water tornadoes. That's according to me and microsoft clip art. Science.

So of course, like an idiot I listen to Mike Mofo Morgan with his arms all waving around this weather chart that’s a scary amount of red. I’m like, ‘Mike save me with your text message alerts!” and Mike is all, “NO bitch,  I’ll be in the studio shoving down McBurgers or Double Downs while I piss myself with delight – you must save yourself!”

Then I cried.

Then Hermine came.

And…it wasn’t so bad. I mean, don’t get me wrong I hate hate hate driving in rain but it wasn’t a massive downpour that leaves me shaking and considering unemployment.

So you know what?

Mike Morgan can eat it.

How did you ride out Hermine?

Traffic skeeves me out.

I don’t know. First, it’s transportation and I hate all forms of this. Except teleportation which I trust because that is future technology. The Future is science and nanosomethings. Plus, in the future, they have a prime directivet that says: ‘don’t fuck shit up’.  So teleportation technology is always perfect. Unlike this 21st century bullshit.


Second, people are ridiculous and if you put them in a car they lose what little of their damn minds they have left. You can be all, ‘ok come over truck that looks like it might fall apart if the wind blows, please enter my lane’ and the truck will just fucking hover next to you. WTF?  ASS! GET OVER! Nothing.

Then, when you finally flip him the bird and speed up, he’ll speed up and cut you off. Because he’s traffic and traffic is a bitch.

Then semis will stall in the middle of the highway. Why aren’t there separate semi highways already?

I can completely understand why people go Barry every day.

Eej therapy

You know what else? I go through all this just to get to work and listen to lung cancer over there try to work out sharing bronchial real estate with tar balls. He’s so traffic.

But not you, lovers.

You are teleportation to me.



You may have heard of it. 4th of July? It involves fireworks and Danny marching down the street to “yell” at assholes.

Let’s therapize.

Overcoming Anxiety for Dummies

This book sucks balls.

So, I checked out this book Overcoming Anxiety for Dummies. It’s about overcoming anxiety. For stupid people. Like myself, I guess. Only this piece of shit book really is a piece of shit. It’s ramped up my anxiety levels. That is not what it promised! It promised to overcome them. But instead they lay out all these scenarios that make my heart race.

Like, ok, in one little box they showed the statistics of liklihood for dying in horrible ways. The point was that you are more likely to die in a plane than by a snake bite. Yippedee fucking do for snake fearers but now I’m even more paranoid about planes. Because I have a higher chance than snakes! Snakes are everywhere! Even ON planes.


Now, not only am I still scared of flying, I’m also a wee bit terrified of snakes.

Kudos book.

Danny, of course, thinks the whole thing is ridiculous. Mainly because Danny has no anxiety what so ever.

Wait. Scratch that.

Danny worries about strange things that have no bearing in reality. Currently, he’s very concerned that people are taking bites of his food before he gets there. I mean, he gets a sausage at a breakfast place and is all,

“Do you see that? Is that a bite?”

Me: Wtf? No, that’s not a bite! Paranoid!

Danny: It looks like a bite. Like the cook took a bite of this sausage!

Me: It’s an anomaly.

Danny: No, it’s not! Look, it’s a curve and it’s different from the other sausages.

Me: You mean, like an anomaly?

I know. Then the other day, he was convinced some rogue hungry baker had taken an early bite of his brownie.

But back to me. This book also has you ask yourself questions like, ‘how does this anxious thought affect me? What will happen if this thought comes true?’

You know what happens to me when I think about anxious thoughts coming true? I GET FUCKING ANXIOUS.

I need a new self help book. Or a free therapist. Any recommendations?

Also, I guess the mommyblog page reset. So click the juggling whore. That way mommies can find my blog and be like, ‘this is not a mommy blog. you’re a self obsessed cad. I hate you.’

Whew, it’s that time again. F to the U to the DAY. That should be a football cheer. Or futbol. World Cup. Whatever.

Ok, so here’s the drill – Flip Off Friday (via Kludgy Mom and Amy) and Fawk You Friday (which I heard about from Christy)

BWS tips button

<—-this well endowed (that’s a really big finger is all I’m saying!) dude is a link. Click on him if you want to see lots of other people and their rage.

What? Wait – you can’t do TWO things at once.

Wellll, F you. This is the goddamn internet. And the goddamn internet is RENEGADE. That means I can do whatever I want. You can’t even stop me. All you can do is start your own blog or leave a hateful comment here.

But don’t do that because it will hurt my feelings and I will make it my goal in life to destroy you (virtually).

F you friends who go out of town – Good going. Way to make me sit here all bored and shit. Plus, it’s my birthday weekend. Didn’t think about that did you, anonymous friend whose name starts with an E? No you did not. I hope you choke on Chicago pollution….are you home yet? Let’s hang out.

F you World Cup – I guess this is a cup that the whole world wants to own? Kind of like Helen and the golden apple except the reward isn’t being called beautiful and having sex with hot guys, it’s winning a cup. And respect. Or something. Not clear on the whole concept. What I am clear on is that people will not stop talking about it. It almost makes me miss the oil.

This is the world cup. I know. It's ugly as sin.

F you anxiety – could you leave for one day? ONE day? I wonder what it’s like to just wake up and actually believe that everything will be alright. Seriously. I feel like maybe if I were a circus clown I would be anxiety free but I am not talented like clowns are. I worry that if I do think things will be fine then that will trigger the bad, like the Universe will be all, ‘what the – no, you need the fear. You can’t just relax, here’s some bad bad shit down on you so you will learn.’

Happy to Birthday to me! Birthdays are great and fun. I got a cool pop up from my mom (yes, I collect pop up books but remember that my husband recruits aliens so my arrested development is pretty ok) and some nice cards. Tonight I will sip on a gin and tonic and toast myself. It’s what I do best.

Hugs and Chugs.  Leave your f’s in the comments.

The f stands for future.

No it doesn’t.

You guys. I want to vomit. Are you watching the news? Or the weather?  If so you may notice that Oklahoma Shitty is straight floating away. Wonderful. You know what I need on top of an already stressful week? This.


I get ready to leave this morning and Danny has on his weatherlust face but I’m all ‘whatever, it’s summer, no bad things happen in summer, except extreme heat and unscheduled splash pad shut downs.’

Then Danny is all, “Oh you may not want to go in. It’s flash flooding.”

This is a dramatic recreation of my situation...with pigs.

Moi: What the fuuuu—heck? <—noticed the baby at the last second, that’s good fucking parenting right there.

So out the door I go into crazy mad standing pools of water. Only it wasn’t just outside the door so I thought it would be ok and that Danny and radar were just…I don’t know, wrong?

At work water is in the windows. The library basement is flooded.  I’m yelling “Don’t use the elevator” everytime someone walks in the door and guess what? Every lazy ass person is getting on the elevator!

I’ve assigned myself the bastian of eletrical safety and if someone gets trapped/electrocuted/starves in that elevator I will feel responsible. Stress.

Books are in danger of getting wet. Stressssssss.

I still have to commute home. STREEEESSSSSS.

This is what happens to people under stress. First you fade to blue. Then arrows shoot out of your pressure points.

How do people handle this calmly?  Some even seem to be enjoying it.

I’m telling those bastards to get on the elevator.

The only bright spot is that a coworker is stuck at home with someone from the Weather Channel. And we all know how I feel about the possibility of getting on national television in a ‘person on the street’ interview. Sweet.ness.

So, here I sit, in need of some serious weather therapy.

Norman hasn’t gotten rain. Does this mean we appeased our wizard?

Does mentioning the wizard during a crisis negate all wizard appeasement? Like I’m distracting wizard from his runes or something?


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