About that weight loss thing...

In case you haven't guessed by my complete and utter lack of any updates about that whole weight loss thing, I am failing miserably.

I fell off the wagon a while ago when life got super crazy. I stopped counting points and my days were far too hectic to get any exercising in.

I've been able to maintain for the most part, but I'm not losing at all and I'm feeling pretty low about it.

I saw video of myself last week and wow, what a shock! I didn't realize I was that big. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the camera adds 10 pounds, I know. If you told me it added 50 lbs, then I might be comforted.

I'm close to cancelling my WW online membership. I haven't had time to track points.

I know I need to get my motivation back. I know I need to start exercising again. I had plans to run in the evening after Dh got home, so of course he's working late and getting home at nightfall. I'm hoping he'll get back into his usual work routine soon, but until then, I'm just feeling stuck.

In case you can't tell, I'm heaving a big sigh over here.

Our World Is Shaken.

Dh's co-worker attempted suicide last week. He survived, but barely. The bullet traveled from one temple to the other. It has left him blind and brain damaged. He's in critical condition.

The man was in an unhappy marriage. They have three children. The kids were just told today about their father. The five-year-old daughter just keeps asking, "Where's Daddy?"

I never met the man. My husband didn't particularly like this man. Still, the more I hear, the more my world is shaken.

When another co-worker texted Dh with some gruesome details of his hospital visit, I ran to my husband and hugged him.

I'm constantly shocked by how many people around me are in miserable relationships. I've watched friends/family divorce. I've watched some fight and say horribly nasty things to each other. I've listened on the phone while some rant about what assholes their significant others are. I've been stunned at some of those stories, because, truly, their significant others are bigger assholes than I could ever imagine. I've had long discussions with friends who have just given up and insist they'll suck it up and go along because they promised "Forever" in their wedding vows.

Dh and I have our issues, but we're in such a different place. I'm not trying to hold our marriage up and say we're so much better than everyone else. We've had rough times too. But we've never been anywhere near with his co-worker is.

I just can't wrap my mind around it. The whole situation has absolutely shaken me. I find myself clinging to Dh and hugging him more than ever. I'm reminded of that Veteran's Day only days after he returned from his last deployment. When faced with the horror of what could have been, I hugged him and cried in his arms. This feels eerily similar to that.

That poor man! That poor family!

Much needed good news

I got some bad news last night. I couldn't sleep and was just generally down. I'm still "in a mood" right now.

So I'm trying to rejoice over the little things to counteract that.

Good news:

I stepped on the scale and I'm down another pound and a half. Wah hoo! I'm SO close to my first weight goal. I felt good enough today to put on my regular jeans--not the maternity ones or the stretchy yoga pants I've been wearing, but real jeans that require me to be able to shove myself in AND zip 'em up (unless, of course, I want to leave the zipper open and have my gut hanging out which is OH SO SEXY). I have to wear a billowy top over them, but they close without a problem. Yippee. This morning, while TheBaby napped, I had time to dye my hair AND clean the bathroom. I even had time to blow dry my hair (which I very rarely d0).

The kids are making their own lunches (I love having bigger kids) and later, we're headed out to the park with some friends. It's a local park too. I live pretty far from most of my friends, so I often have to travel to meet everyone. This time, everyone decided to meet at a park just a mile from my house. Yippee!

"I am no superman. I have no answers for you. I am no hero oh that's for sure, but I do know one thing, where you are is where I belong."

My thanks are extended to @Kblogger for tweeting lyrics to Dave Matthews Band's "Where Are You Going."

After yesterday's heavy post, I had no idea what to write. I don't want anything quite that heavy because, honestly, I'm STILL exhausted from writing yesterday's post. At the same time, I don't want to write about random funny things the kids said or product reviews or anything too frivolous.

That song, however, is one I listened to quite a bit during dh's deployments, so I'm using it as inspiration.

Yes, I stayed with my husband through the hell that is PTSD. I've been very open about the fact that I nearly left once. Well, twice, really, but the first time was after his first deployment to the Middle East and I didn't have this blog then.

I really do miss the man my husband once was, but I love who he has become. Yes, I liked my husband more before he was forever altered, but I admire him more now.

Where are you going
with your long face pulling down?
Don’t hide away like an ocean
But you can’t see, but you can smell
And the sound waves crash down

There was a long time after he came home when he wasn't himself at all. He lived inside his head. He still does this far more than he used to before he deployed. No, I don't like that one bit. He dealt with the physical distance by distancing himself. It's what he needed to do to cope. You can't just snap out of that after months and months, though. He's been home for years and he hasn't completely come out of that.

Yes, it leaves me feeling lonely. I've known loneliness when my husband was a world away. It's a far different type of loneliness when he's lying beside you at night, but isn't really there. I've told him, "I miss you," to his face. That is absolutely crushing.

I am no superman
I have no reasons you
I am no hero, oh that’s for sure
But I do know one thing for sure
Is where you are is where I belong

Still, he is there beside me at night. He could have decided he had no desire to stay with someone who pestered him to get help. He could have decided he had enough stress over there and could do without any from me. Family life is stressful as hell. He could have walked away. He didn't. True, he is far less patient with the kids than he was before he deployed, but every evening, you can find him reading bedtime stories to them all on one of their beds.

He does what he can. We just have to adjust our expectations of what he can do.

And above all, this line still rings very true for me,

I do know, where you go, is where I want to be.

It's been frustrating for me (and I say, "Me," not "Us" because the children don't remember what he was like before. I find that both crushing and comforting), but I've just had to be a support. I just stand by and watch. He's the one who has had to do the searching. He's the one who took the misguided drugs prescribed by the military doctors. He's the one who had visceral reactions to noises that reminded him of the desert. He's the one who still suffers physical pain.

Where are you going, where do you go?
Are you looking for answers
to questions under the stars?
If along the way you are growing weary,
You can rest with me until a brighter day
It's okay. You're okay.

No, he's not the same. He is better than he was in the months following his homecoming. Maybe some day he'll be more like the man I married over a decade ago. He's not the same, but he is "Okay." We're okay. Yes, I do mourn who he was and I feel lonely now and then, but I love that man! I love our life. Don't let my melancholy posts fool you. I love that man with so much intensity that it's overwhelming. We share a life. We share understanding. We share a deep love.

Tell me where are you going, where do you go?
Where? Let's go.

The Whines of a Former Military Wife

I'm going to whine. Consider yourself warned.

(big sigh)
I miss my husband. Yes, he's here. I feel guilty making that statement when he isn't deployed. Hell, he's not even active anymore. Still, after working through PTSD (times two), he's not the man I married. We got through the worst of it, but it has changed him.

Lately, I've been painfully aware that there are small fleeting moments where the man I married would have hugged me, reached for my hand, or put an arm around me. The man he's become does none of these. He still loves me. He's still one of the rare good men out there. PTSD just stripped him of the more affectionate side.

I know I'm very blessed to have such a wonderful husband. He's smart. He's kind. He has moral standards. He doesn't see me as a cook/housekeeper. He's willing to work together with me.

It's just that, I miss him. I miss who he was. I love this new guy, but it's just not the same. In those brief moments where I still expect him to reach out, he doesn't and I'm painfully aware of what's missing.

And the mess gets messier

This has been at the head of a very bad mood of mine recently. After carefully planning and being responsible all these years, we're in trouble.

Dh just found out that his company has lost the client who supplies 90% of his work. He's ALREADY down to 1/3 his usual pay.

Just figuring our mortgage and basic grocery bills, his current pay doesn't cut it.

Add to the fact that dh's knees are really bothering him lately (military injury, but they won't cover the cost of any care), but he won't see a doctor in large part because of the cost. And add to that the fact that we have three children, soon to be 4. We have a baby on the way very very soon. What happens if this birth doesn't work out and I wind up in the hospital with another c-section? We have insurance, but we won't be able to cover our portion.

Dh has already been looking for a new job, but with no luck. I've been searching around the house trying to find any newer items we can return and instead use the refund for groceries or more necessary items. I'm planning on selling my kids' toys out from under them because we need the money. But that won't be enough.

Does he go back to Active duty and this time, I stand there with FOUR crying children as the military sends him off for yet another deployment? Do we raise yet another baby who thinks "Daddy," is a telephone? Will they even take him back with the injuries they caused, but refused to acknowledge at the time (they "lost" his medical paperwork documenting the cause of the injuries)? Can he stand to go back to that way of life? Is Active duty even an option?


What do we do? What can we do? Now what?

I started to accept the mess I'm in. I know that mess spelled backwards is 'ssem' and I felt much better armed with that information." Tori Amos

I'm recycling that post title from one 3 years ago. It's fitting.

I've been reluctant to blog about this. I've been reluctant to speak about this. I've only told two friends and just within the past week. The economy is kicking our butt in ways I never imagined and it's scary.

We have always been very responsible when it comes to money. We have a money market account into which we file away a percentage of our income every month. While we do give ourselves some leeway, we don't spend money frivolously. We discuss all big purchases and anything over $30 is a big purchase. I ALWAYS look for a deal on kids' items and we buy consignment when at all possible. We have health insurance because not having any is not an option. If there's a medical emergency, we will not be solely responsible for insane bills. Remember, my daughters' birth and NICU stay was over $200,000 which was completely covered by Tricare. Each time, before we started trying to conceive, I insisted we have a certain amount of money saved--enough to tide us over should we need it.

Well, thanks to the state of the economy and a bit of a catastrophe we dealt with a while ago (about which I didn't feel compelled to blog), we're hurting financially and it kills me. Dh's income has suddenly dropped to 1/3 of what it was. I realized the other day that we now qualify for food stamps. How in the hell does that happen? How does that happen to us?

Our money market account is almost gone. Every month, I've had to transfer money to our checking to pay our bills. And our bills are NOT extravagant. We no longer have cable. We get our books and DVDs from the library. The only things I've bought for this baby have been from the clearance racks and even then, not much at all. I haven't bought anything for the bigger kids at all with the exception of shoes they needed all of which were on clearance. We're not eating out at all.

We have a baby due in a matter of weeks. I'm more than a little scared now. We were financially safe when we started TTC and even through most of this pregnancy. Now, though, not so much and that worries me. I asked for stroller/bouncy seat recomendations, but when I saw a bouncy at a rummage sale for $8 the other day, I thought, "We can get by without it." Dh and I were considering looking at strollers at a consignment sale in 2 weeks, but now I don't think we'll get one at all. We can't afford it.

This is killing me. We've always been responsible with our money. The only designer clothing our kids have ever worn came from garage sales or were hand-me-downs. We are not the types who take trips to exotic locations. Hell, our only family vacations, with one exception for which my parents' paid, have been to visit family (and even that aforementioned parent-funded Disney trip while dh was deployed was actually to visit cousins we hadn't seen in years). Yes we have what I consider luxuries, but we have the bare minimum (cell phones, but no internet access, fancy phones, or text plan).

Anything that costs money has to wait. We've had to put off major and minor repairs because we don't want to spend the money. When the kids were sick a few weeks ago, I didn't take them to the doctor because I knew they'd all be charged the $150 fee each for first-time visits in addition to any prescriptions we'd need. Yes, our insurance helps, but not enough. And yes, if the illness had gotten worse, I would have taken them in, but just the thought of having to balance my kids' well-being with what we can/can't afford killed me.

This lack of money is breaking my heart. My mother had some serious health issues lately. All I wanted to do was jump on a plane to help her, but we can't afford it. My FIL's cancer is back and he's nearly halfway through with his radition. I know a visit from the kids would lift his spirits, but we can't do it. Bubbe is getting worse. When she passes away, we cannot afford to go to her funeral.

Our whole lives are now on hold because we don't know what to do. We don't know what we can afford to do. We were supposed to move closer to family after the baby is born (remember, the military left us in a state where we have no family), but we don't know if the house will sell given the current market and the downpayment we had saved for another house is gone. We had to use it to pay for gas and food.

Luckily, we're getting some money back from taxes. Dh's work load has picked up quite a bit in the past week. We know we have more money headed our way. That has me sighing with relief (at the rate we're going, our money market account would have only lasted us another 3 months before it's gone). Still, I'm terrified. I don't know what to expect. We're trying to be proactive, but this all came on so suddenly. What do we do? What can we afford to do?

What was that about feeding choice?

This post will not at all be a light/happy/funny one. Some people may be offended. Please, if you are one of the many who had your nursing relationship sabotaged by a healthcare professional or someone of the sort, do NOT feel offended. This is not geared at you.

I hear a lot about feeding choice. Women get up in arms when we try to ban the bags at hospitals because they insist we are somehow anti-feminist and are infringing on a mom's right to choose how she feeds her child.

Well, more than 30 years after my MIL made her choice, we're now dealing with the potential problems with my husband. He never got a choice in the matter.

You fine folks know that my FIL has cancer. His father also died from cancer, albeit a different form.

I have a long family history of cancer, but I've always taken solace in the fact that I was breastfed and I have breastfed all my children. Formula fed children are more likely to develop cancer as are mothers who formula feed. My husband never received a drop of breastmilk and obviously, he can't breastfeed. Only now is the consequence of that hitting me and it's hitting me hard.

I've been struggling with this realization recently. My husband is now at a greater risk of developing cancer and DYING because of a choice in which he had no say.

On top of that, there's more research which links BPA to prostate cancer. Many pictures exist of my husband as an infant holding his plastic bottle. His risk is already more than doubled because his father has it. Now his mother's feeding choice may have increased that risk.

I've been a breastfeeding supporter for years for oh so many reasons, but never before have they hit so close to home. This isn't some faceless person writing a newspaper article proclaiming her right to feed however she sees fit. This isn't a random commenter on a message board complaining about how there was no way she'd do something so disgusting. This isn't even a grumpy old man ranting about how no woman should ever breastfeed in public. This is my husband--the man I love, my children's father. This is a decorated veteran who has survived combat zones. This wonderful man is now more likely to die because of a feeding choice made more than 30 years ago.

Please don't bitch about a mother's right to choose a feeding method. Babies are born to be breastfed. Our healthcare system should do everything in its power to support that. It shouldn't continually undercut a mother's attempts to breastfeed. Your local hospital or pediatrician's office should NOT be a marketing haven for Nestle. Your baby's health is FAR more important than kickbacks and pizza parties. Offices should recognize, not necessarily a woman's right to breastfeed, but a baby's need to eat. Working moms need to either pump or have their baby make occasional visits so that they can eat. Why oh why do some businesses miss the fact that formula fed infants are twice as likely to get sick within the first year which then means mom is more likely to miss work which costs the company money? It is far more cost-effective for corporations to support breastfeeding. Stores need to shut the hell up about their damn puritanical insistance that breastfeeding is somehow indecent. If I were to vist my local mall, sit quietly outside Victoria Secret and nurse modestly under one of their indecent posters, what do you think someone would complain about? Would it be the half-naked (or in some cases damn near completely naked) women on display or would it be the baby eating?

If you were to frame the discussion by explaining, "You can do X and increase your child's risks of illness and death for the rest of his life," do you think ANY mother would willingly take that option? What kind of a choice is that?

We need to take this out of the philosophical realm. This is not a debate about Feminism (FTR, I'm a vocal Feminist). This is not about a woman's rights. This is about the child's rights.

This is about my husband's right to be afforded every protection possible. That was not the case. In fact, he was put even more at risk. My husband now has a higher risk of dying because of the feeding choices made decades ago, but hey, there are those out there who will fight tooth and nail for his mother's right to do this to him.

Join the Army. See the world. Kill yourself.

Army suicides highest in nearly 2 decades, study finds

Is anyone shocked by this? If so, someone is not paying attention.

Shocked? No. Outraged? Hell yeah! Betrayed? YES.

I have not shied away from sharing the hell we endured as a result of dh's PTSD.

It is awful. There is not nearly enough treatment out there. Even when it is available, it's often very difficult to access.

Trying to help someone with the disorder is hell. It is the most difficult thing I ever had to endure. I remind myself often that my perspective was on the outside looking in. I can't even imagine what it must have been like for dh. I suffered trying to help him. How could I ever imagine how he suffered?

Imagine a zombie. I'm not talking about the typical depression where one pulls away. I'm talking about a completely different personality. One way to describe it might be to say they seem to have no soul. The man who used to randomly come up and hug me and who never once raised his voice to me in all the years were were together was replaced by one who screamed at me one moment, but ignored everyone around for the most part. It seemed as though everything gentle and loving about him had died. My husband was a zombie.

I've thought a lot recently about how glad I am that he is in my life. I love him dearly. What's more, I like him. All these years later, I still like him. I enjoy being around him. Whereas my friends are always eager to get their husbands out of the house when they've been home for an extended period of time, nothing would make me happier than to have dh around all the time. I spent a month home with him and loved it.

The only time we ever seriously discussed divorce were the two times he endured PTSD. The last time, I even had a plan. I had a map in the glove compartment with directions to a friend's house out of state. I did not for a minute want to leave the man I loved, but the black hole that he had become was sucking the life out of both of us.

I'm glad I stayed. I'm glad we fought it together.

Although, I won't lie. I've realized lately that I still don't have my husband back completely. I've adjusted to this man. I love this man, but he is not the same man who landed in a combat zone years ago. To be completely honest, I would love to have that man back. There was a time when I got glimpses of who he was, but that wasn't consistent and it hasn't happened in a while. I miss it. I miss him.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but when he came home last time, I told dh (when he refused to acknowledge that he had a reoccurance) that I did not like who he had become. Now, I can say that I like who he is and I love who he is, but I can still see the PTSD in him. I liked the pre-PTSD version of my husband better.

PTSD is not a cold from which you can completely recover when you let your body heal itself. It's not like an illness where you can throw drugs at it and then you're good as new (although, the military does so like to throw copious amounts of inappropriate drugs at it [and I'm not just talking Motrin]). It's not even like a broken bone which is never quite as strong. A weak limb may give you an unusual gait, but you remain you. PTSD lingers and it can reoccur. Sometimes, it doesn't completely go away. It forces you to become someone else.

Dh stopped in at his old (military) office last week. One of his friends there commented on the large number of recent deployments. He said something like, "They all come back, but they come back messed up."

I've been thinking a lot lately about sacrifices made for freedom. On Memorial Day, I heard a comment about how those who died in combat are not the only ones to make sacrifices. It's on a far smaller scale, but my husband did sacrifice. He didn't give his life, but he gave years of his life. He gave memories with his children that he never had a chance to make. He almost gave his marriage. He gave a portion of his sanity. He gave a portion of his soul.

He's not alone. There are so many others sacrificing, some in far more torturous ways than my husband ever had to endure. Combat takes their soul and they take their own lives. We owe them. We owe them so much more.

Long story short: THIS SUCKS.

In fact, partners of the depressed commonly find themselves developing their own symptoms of depression, anxiety or phobias. Susan Anderson, author of The Journey From Abandonment to Healing (Berkley, 2000) says that such individuals "feel a real sense of loss, because although their loved one is still physically present, their partners are no longer emotionally available, which creates feelings of rejection, disappointment, hurt and abandonment."
from How to Help a Loved One Who's Depressed

Humanity is letting me down.

I'm more than a little disappointed in the world right now. It's not the entire world that has left me crestfallen, just the human inhabitants of that world.

Here's the very brief version what what would otherwise prove to a be a very long rant:

People don't seem willing to step up and help out. Of the few that are willing to help, it's the same few every time. Most others don't want to be bothered. It's driving me nuts and making me absolutely livid

I sent out a call for help for a family that truly needs support in the face of a tragedy. I mentioned that the support could be at any level--from seeking out donations to just sending cards. I asked about 50 people for help. Three have offered to do so.

When dh was deployed the last time and I recognized the signs of PTSD, I sent out a call asking friends to send him cards, letters, care packages--anything. A few offered to help, but no one did.

I volunteer for a healthcare organization. If you suspect that it may be the same organization for which you volunteer, than chances are yes, it is. I have degrees and certifications in the field, but I work without pay (and often at a cost to me) because I think I can do more good that way right now. Yet when I ask the regulars for their input, they don't respond. When I try to provide for the larger community, the very people I help steal. When I spend an hour on the phone answering extensive questions at length, the information I provided is ignored. Why do I bother?

I'm no longer as willing to put myself out there as I once was. I try to keep a balance between living for myself, my family and my community (whether that's the physical community, the spiritual community, or simply the community comprised by the entire human race). Yet I still find my heart being torn out and stomped all over because people are simply not willing to help. They are, however, willing to let people around them suffer.

I must admit that I haven't done nearly as much as I could lately. That is, in part, because I've been so focused on my own family and recent events therein. I don't believe anyone should give of themselves to the point where they become the one suffering. I do, however, think we can all do something.

I completely understand that some folks have difficult things to survive right now. I understand that completely. By all means, focus on yourself and your family. Although, being annoyed that you have to run to 5 or 6 different stores in order to find a copy of Rock Band as an Xmas gift does NOT fit the definition of "Trauma."

We need to get off our butts and DO SOMETHING!!!

Come on, folks, look at that. You made me bust out the excessive punctuation. Come on, no one likes the excessive punctuation (or ever suspects the Spanish Inquisition). And look at that, you've made me use uppercase. DO NOT MAKE ME USE UPPERCASE! And will you feast your eyes on this? Now I'm over-using italics. Ladies and gentlemen, you can prevent this. If you don't want to be bothered helping those around you, then at least do some form of tzedakah so as to prevent my flagrant grammatical abuse.

I will say that those friends who are doing something truly leave me inspired. One friend who is a fairly recently single mother of 3 little girls immediately went out and bought things to donate to that family who lost everything (she's one of the 3 who responded). Another friend, who has had all sorts of chaos in her life is looking into getting a computer donated for that family. Yet another friend who is currently going through a very difficult and life-changing time, went out actively seeking creative endeavors that benefit others because she wants to try to do something for someone else. I am so grateful to have people like these in my life. I'm so grateful people like this exist. They are the reason I have yet to completely abandon humanity entirely.

I'll probably be in a box lying down loosely suited in black.

He's burried.

The planning is over. The running around is over. Now we're all hanging around reminiscing. That part is nice. I just wish it could have been under different circumstances.

It's bizarre. I hadn't really been in touch with him in a while. I always kept up to date on what he was doing and we passed notes back and forth through friends/family, but we haven't been a constant part of each other's lives in years. And yet, I feel his absence so acutely. He had such a wonderful and excited spirit. The fact that it's gone is so very noticible.


This sums it up nicely:
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell.
Edna St. Vincent Millay

Your body gone, we shall keep the man.

My cousin is gone. He passed away last night.



Vienna Teng's "Say Uncle"

Everyone agrees it came too soon
It was only meant to be an interception
You kept fear of death in the back pocket of your jeans
In the palm of your hand, affection

It came like a sudden gust of wind
Leaving them bewildered to ask how
I recall last time we met, you said we'd meet again
The irony is only bitter now

These days everyone cries, "say uncle"
They want to touch your spirit lest it die
For this your sons and widow gather with us at the table
To form a healing circle for our new demise
These days everyone cries, "say uncle"
I retrieve the memories quickly as I can
Add them to the portrait we all draw in our minds
Your body gone, we shall keep the man

I close my eyes and hope they do not fade
These remnants of a voice and a smile
Images of landscape, cloaked in forest green
Like your life unfolding mile by mile
A fierce embrace, a word of thanks
A cheerful whistle, and hours in a van
Somehow these pieces must bring back the man you were
Though the ocean claims your ashes on the sand

These days everyone cries, "Say uncle"
They want to touch your spirit lest it die
For this your sons and widow gather with us at the table
To form a healing circle for our new demise
These days everyone cries, "say uncle"
I retrieve the memories quickly as I can
Add them to the portrait we all draw in our minds
Your body gone, we shall keep the man

Depressed

I'm pissed off at the world right now.

Rush Limbaugh is questioning my husband's patriotism. Rush Limbaugh insists those soldiers who don't support the mess in Iraq are "Phony Soldiers." He has since tried to insist his comments were being taken out of context, but in his attempt to do so, he simply shoved his foot further in his mouth.

And how many deployments to Iraq has Rush Limbaugh done? How many times has he been separated from his family by war? How many times was he shot at? How many nights did he stand guard knowing that there was a threat on his military instillation and if that threat came to fruition, he would be expected to throw himself in front of the armed terrorists? How badly do his knees hurt him now as a result of the weight of the weapons he had to carry around? How many hours has he spent in therapy with his family as a result of PTSD? And so, what right does he have to question the authenticity of my husband?

I'm sick to death of these people who insist they support the troops simply because they vote Republican and slap a ribbon bumper sticker on their SUVs. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SIT YOUR ASSES DOWN.

Today, I saw a friend's husband had the song "Just Came Back From War" on his MySpace profile. You can hear the song here at Darryl Worley's profile. This family is very Conservative and they're pretty wealthy. They're very adamantly opposed to anyone who is anti-Bush. She is the friend I mentioned here.

Honestly, that really offended me. He lives quite the posh life. He's never served at all much less in "war" time. WTF right does he have to post a song that points out how much war changes someone? How dare he do that when the conflict that he supports is changing the men and women who serve in ways he could never possibly imagine. WTF?

My cousin is dying. He has cancer. He's down to 80 lbs. He's in hospice care. Taking the whole family to see him is out of the question (he's 2000 miles away). I'm uncertain about going there alone. This cousin's mother (my aunt after whom I'm named) lost her battle with cancer decades ago. He was only 16 at the time. His sister was 18. His death will leave the same mess. He's leaving behind a 17-year-old daughter and a 15 year-old son. My grandmother's yarzeit was last week. Both my brother's and an aunt's (not the one previously mentioned) are this month. Now it looks like we'll be losing my cousin this month as well. He is such a wonderful person. He's so sweet, so loving, so creative and so much fun. How can this world loose him? Why does the hatred and the stupidity flourish while he wastes away?

And on top of all that, dh and I had discussed trying again for another baby next month. We decided a while ago not to do that, but he can't give me a definite answer on whether or not he wants another. We make these decisions together. He's not going to put his foot down and insist I can't have another child, but at the same time, I don't want to insist that we are regardless of his feelings. So we need to come to an agreement and it just seems like he's pushing it off repeatedly rather than trying to figure out what he wants. Plus, there's a good chance I may not be able to have another baby anyway. I just want a plan. If we find I can't have another child, well then, that decision has been made for us. But I want a plan in the meantime. I want to know that either we're going to start TTC in whatever month or that dh is going to schedule his vasectomy for the near future.

The whole damn world is fucked up. I don't want to deal with all this shit anymore.

I'm frustrated. I'm offended. I'm pissed off. I'm depressed.

Feeling a Little Paranoid? You Will After Reading This.

I have no words.

Wait, that's not true. I have many words, all of them curses.

This is absolutely astonishing and disgusting.

You must go at least browse through this post which points out the huge conflict of interest in some recent breastfeeding studies.

To answer the question she poses at the end, yes, I do boycott Nestle and yes, I can say that I haven't bought any of those brands in the past week. I haven't bought any in a while. It's not easy, though. As my husband likes to point out, "Nestle is taking over the world."

One of the most awful things I've ever heard

During Rosh Hashanah services, I couldn't help but think of dh's grandmother. With thoughts of the inscriptions in the Book of Life and images of G-d deciding who will thrive and who will pass on, she was often on my mind. Bubbe is now in a nursing home and is still deteriorating. She has some good days and some awful ones. There have been some frightening times, but she keeps pulling through.

She was recently moved to a new nursing home. My mother-in-law explained that there's an open shower there where the staff can just wheel the patients up which is far more convenient for wheel chair-bound bubbe.

Bubbe's short-term memory seems to be completely gone, but she clings to her past.

My MIL told me something that shook me unlike anything else I've heard in many moons.

For days, Bubbe fought the staff when they tried to give her a shower. She thought they were trying to gas her. She couldn't understand that she was NOT in the camps and that was NOT Nazi Germany.

The only thing worse than that is the fact that since she has no short-term memory, she must have had that same thought every day. She can't remember that she escaped Germany long ago. She can't remember that just the day before, someone had proven to her that she would not be killed like some of her family had been. She has no way to comfort herself. Her brain forced her to relive that each day.

From what I've heard, it doesn't seem as though she's still reacting in that way. But still, just the fact that she had to endure those fears over and over again even now in a time and place where she's safe just breaks my heart and tears at my soul.

We're here. We're queer. Get used to it.

Okay, so um...yeah...I'm not gay. Although, hopefully, the homosexual community will forgive me for stealing their slogan for my own use.

I am, however, here. We all are.

Thus far, my coping mechanism has been to just not discuss anything of weight. Don't think too hard about the 10 year anniversary he blew off simply because he was in a bad mood. Don't ask him any questions for which I know full-well he won't have any answers. Stop expecting him to come home with flowers in an attempt to make up for the anniversary debacle (although I still haven't mastered this one). Overall, I just try not to think about it.

And I suspect he's been poking his head in here which I wasn't expecting. I figured he had lost the link a long time ago. Note to the world, but especially my dh, If you say, "Well, the other day you said, 'XYZ'," then make absolutely sure that I actually SAID, "XYZ" and that I didn't just post about it on my blog in a message where I detailed my plans to leave you.

Whoops. That's a bit more bitter than I had planned. Sorry.

Still, if he actually read that post about leaving and I still don't have flowers or kind words or any sign that he actually wants us to stay, it's kind of baffling and painful.

But, I'm not dealing with that shit. I'm doing everything I can to keep my ass here at least until I can meet with the therapist again. That means not thinking about this stuff too deeply and not over-analyzing anything. I will not wallow. I will not go fucking nuts...at least not in the immediate future.

I will, however, go in the other room and watch the Colbert Report. I will take an Ambien so I can quiet down the demons (because ticked off is one thing, but ticked off and grumpy from lack of sleep is a whole 'nother beast). And at least for the next few days, I will post stupid random shit that doesn't dig too deep into my head. So if you want a break from the drama, you're in luck. I will be locking the drama llama up in my basement where I will occasionally pop in and beat the shit out of it with a wooden club when the need arises.

But for now, I'm getting more lemonade and watching some TV.

and now that I am leaving,now I know that I did something wrong 'cause I missed you.

I'm still here.

After I posted last, I printed directions to where I'd be going and wrote down the phone numbers of the people there.

Went about my usual morning stuff figuring I'd decide later about leaving.

Kept The Boy up from his nap for two extra hours while I tried to decide (wanted him to nap in the car if I decided to go). Eventually opted to put him down, but I packed a bag for us all after I did.

I decided to stay. I can't explain it. I should have gone, but I just can't stop clinging to the idea that something will change. I'm an idiot because dh has shown time and time again that it's not something he plans on doing. Still, I hope.

Sometimes it seems like he wants to. Most of the time, though, it seems like he just wants to ignore it and keep going with blinders on.

I was leaning towards leaving this morning when the girls started telling me about all the husbands they were going to have (Girl2 says 200,000). I got annoyed with them and said, "No, you have one husband. You get married once and you stay that way." As soon as I heard myself say that, I knew I wanted to stay and try to work this out.

Dh has the next two days off. I'm delusional. I keep thinking that in all that time, surely he will say/do something different. Logically I know he won't, but I can't give up on him.

I'm here and I'm feeling like I'm insane. I want to leave so badly, but then I can't do it. I go back and forth and I can't make up my mind. I want to stay. I want to work this out, but it feels like I'm the only one. Dh is willing to put in a bit of effort, but not much--certainly not enough.

So I'm here for now, but if this keeps up, I'm either going insane or I'm going away.

An update on the chaos that is my life in under 25 words

Awful night. Better day. Therapist appointment tomorrow. Finally found someone to watch the kids. Will update tomorrow.

Give me a freaking break!

I usually don't post on Saturday as it's Shabbat, but damn it, I need to vent.

I called Military Onesource. I played phone tag with a therapist for 2 days until I finally got in touch with her. I got an appointment for Monday (dh's day off). But now I can't freaking find anyone to watch the kids so we can go.

Now WTF do I do?