Things I Hate

I’ve been thinking of doing this post for a while now, and for the past week or so, been trying to think of unique things I hate. I will probably forget something I’d like to share and deliberately leave stuff out because I worry it’s too mean and don’t want to be a social pariah. And soon I’d like to share a list that’s equally as long or longer of things I love, just to try and even out the hate! And now I wish that no one hates me by the end of this!


1. Chocolate cupcakes

2. When people use the word “retard” as an insult. My little brother is mentally challenged and growing up, the worst and most offensive word you could use in our house was “retard”. Even guests were chewed out if that word slipped out of their mouth near my mom.

3. When people write the number or letter of something from a long list of items and you have no idea what they’re referring to, so you have to scroll back up to see what they meant. This normally happens on Imgur, on a post with 20 or so pictures, and someone makes a comment like, “Number 3, I use to do the same thing with my parents, and number 7, wow, that’s gonna hurt the next day!” or some such thing.

4. Also again normally on Imgur, overuse of what at one time was a clever comment by someone and now everyone uses it, FOR EVERY LITTLE THING. Example: Who’s cutting onions in here? (Note: For some reason, comments like these are almost always Top Comment. Why, people, why? Show a little creativity!)

5. When I’m singing a song and the artist gets the words wrong.

6. When people eat Kit-Kats wrong. You’re suppose to break the sticks apart and eat them one by one, not take a bite out of the whole thing still stuck together!

7. Most army wives. This one I was really scared to write, because I am afraid someone will stumble upon my blog and in army wife fashion, scream at me (through the internet of course) and call me a whore (one, if you knew anything about me you would know how laughably untrue that is, and two, what do my sexual activities have to do with me hating a lot of army wives? It just seems to be the go-to insult.) and call me other horrible names. I did not use to feel this way, I use to think of army wives as strong, brave, kind, fiercely loyal and patriotic folk, but upon getting married to a man who happened to join the army and moving to a military post, I learned how a lot of these women act. I heard stories of women setting their mops outside to alert other men that their husbands were away and they were “available”. I heard countless stories of women cheating on their husbands while they were deployed, and worse yet (and incredibly stupidly) getting pregnant sometimes. Women who let their children run wild with no discipline or guidance, women who scream and yell to get their way and demand that they be treated better than others because their spouses are in the military. Women who wear their husband’s rank, who curse out gate guards for not saluting them because their husbands are officers and they feel they deserve to be saluted too. When I was a more newly-wed army wife, I thought these were just extremes, rare, exaggerations of SOME wives by other army wives trying to impress and scare us newbies at the same time. I learned that sadly these behaviors aren’t that rare when our “Welcome-to-Schweinfurt” newcomers class took a tour of the health clinic and the person giving us the tour told us, “We do NOT do abortions here. I cannot stress this enough. We must have a minimum of at least 30 women a month coming in here, crying, saying their husbands are about to come home from a 9-month deployment and they just found out they were 8 weeks pregnant. We have to refer these women to German hospitals off post because we do NOT do abortions here.” I was disgusted. This was not a big army post by any means, so that was a lot of people. At times I do not like to admit I am also an army wife, because I fear people will automatically assume I am one of these women. I have never seen a group of people attack each other emotionally and verbally so viciously. I have a very kind friend, whom I will politely say did not have much of maternal common sense when she got pregnant. She had to ask many questions. She asked (note: She had not done this. She was just wondering if she could.) if she could use a tanning bed while she was pregnant. At least ten women started calling her horrible names, saying they would do horrible things to her, saying once she had her baby they would drop kick her in the stomach and then choke her. That was her last question on a public forum because of the hatred and violent way in which these women responded. Only two people (one of which was me) had any actual advice to give her and not just threaten her.

8. Okay. Seven was a bit harsh so this one will be lighter. I hate cooking pasta. I LOVE pasta, I thought I was part Italian until earlier this year when my sister laughed at me and told me I wasn’t (very, very sad day) but cooking pasta is a bitch. I can never get it right. It’s either too soggy and well done or not cooked enough. The instructions on the box should just say, “It’ll definitely be squishier after this many minutes, but you’re on your own on figuring out if it’s too done or not done enough.”

9. I hate washing the George Foreman grill. I (along with the floor and counters) am always wet, soapy, and grumpy by the end of this chore. Okay so maybe my rugs can’t be grumpy, but I swear the sunflowers look a lot less sunny.

10. I hate putting away laundry. I enjoy washing it and drying it because I LOVE the smell of fresh laundry, but something about putting it away makes me want hire a housekeeper strictly for this chore. Oh, and while he/she’s at it, put away my dishes, because once those suckers are nice and clean and sparkly, I hate putting them away too. All other chores are not fun, but tolerable.

11. Vague and/or attention-seeking Facebook posts. I use to comment but lately I rarely feed into the posts that go something along the lines of, “I am so mad about what happened today!! Arrgghh just don’t talk to me I don’t want to talk about it!” Then WHY did you post it?

12. Mud. Luckily my dogs are dainty little things and can’t stand to get their precious paws dirty, but when it’s muddy and they have to go outside to potty and it’s inevitable they will step in mud, it’s like trying to catch a slippery pig to clean their paws before they come back inside. I am SO glad we don’t have carpet! Oh, and since they’re dachshunds and they hang low to the ground, their bellies normally get muddy too, which means a bath, which means they hate me, and which means I am wet all over AGAIN (hopefully I didn’t also have to wash the George Foreman grill today) and most likely have to shower again. It seems unfair that to get something else clean, you have to get dirty!

13. Crazy bra-hating feminists that want to burn and ban ALL the bras. Okay, honey, you like to be a free bird, that’s great for you, not so great for everyone else. Don’t try and speak for every woman everywhere. Not everyone was blessed with the taken-for-granted ability to go without a bra, I have to wear mine 24/7.

14. Tampons.

15. Being scolded in public. I am a pretty sensitive person and always try to be on my best behavior when around people who don’t understand my craziness and love of being silly, but when I slip up and get scolded, it makes my cheeks turn redder than a clown’s nose.

16. People who try to force their anti-choice beliefs on everyone, a.k.a controlling women’s bodies. This is especially true if you are a man, shame on you.

17. Homophobia. Screw you guys too.

18 People who are so stubbornly stuck in their own ways that their eyes are blinded to seeing anyone else’s views, or respecting other people’s views.

19. People who abuse animals.

20. People who say they hate people who abuse animals because people are next. Sometimes they word it in a way that makes me feel like they don’t care about the animals that have been hurt, they just care about the possible people who can be hurt.

21. Religious people who say anyone that doesn’t believe everything they tell them to believe will go to hell. Eff you guys too.

22. People who don’t teach their children how to properly treat an animal. My dog use to like children, but he was slapped and hit so many times by children whose parents just said, “Oh, they don’t know any better,” but didn’t correct the behavior that he is now afraid of all children. Which makes some parents mad at ME because now my dog assumes every child will hit him because the majority of the children he met before he was afraid of them did.

23. Using hand sanitizer when you don’t know yet (oh, trust me, YOU SOON WILL FEEL THE WRATH OF SATAN) that you have a paper cut.

24. When I use the restroom in other people’s homes and they don’t have soap. Anywhere. I feel like I’m doing the walk of shame when I leave the bathroom and everyone else that’s been knows my hands aren’t clean because there’s no soap.

25. People who refuse to use the bathroom outside their home. What happens when you go on vacation? Do you think I’m a terrible, gross, bacteria-infested person because I don’t think twice about plopping my butt on any ol’ clean toilet seat? Do you think my bathroom is gross? When you gotta go, you gotta GO.

26. Onions. I tried to tell my mom I was allergic to them and she said get back in the kitchen and prep dinner. I cried later that day – you know, because of the Syn-propanethial-S-oxide.

27. The fact that I missed out in childhood and most of my early adulthood on the joys that are mushrooms because my mom has such a strong hatred for them that I judged them before I even got to know them. Shame on me. I can never get those 24 years back!

28. Onions again. I really, really hate them.

29. When my husband loses his debit card, so he takes mine out of my wallet without telling me. This use to only be discovered when I was checking out at a grocery store (normally with a long line behind me, just to add to the embarrassment). Now I’m smarter and I check before I leave the house.

30. Rap music.

31. When people slap my butt. My butt. No touchie.

32. Kim Kardashian’s butt. IF I HEAR ABOUT IT ONE MORE TIME…

33. Famous people who are famous just because their family is rich but they don’t do anything. I just don’t get it.

34. People who focus on and obsess over celebrities so much that they have no personality of their own.

35. Road trips over six hours.

36. When you don’t know if you should hug someone or not. And then when you make the wrong choice and hug someone who hates hugs and you feel really bad about hugging them.

37. When you said something stupid earlier and you obsess over it over, and over, and over…

38. When People Capitalize The First Letter Of Every Word In A Sentence That’s Not A Title. Seriously, When Did Your School Teachers Ever Teach You To Do This? It Also Slows My Reading Down Because I Enunciate Every Word In My Head. I Hope I Used That Word Correctly.

39. When I use words incorrectly. I kind of obsess over grammar and spelling and the English language in general so I get very mad at myself when I do this.

40. When its has an apostrophe in it and it’s not suppose to have one. It’s more annoying than when it needs one and doesn’t have one.

41. When they’re, their, and there are used incorrectly.

42. Winter. And cold. Anything cold. Except ice cream. Mmmmm, ice cream.

43. Traffic.

44. No traffic when you’re trying to eat something, or you’re really early and you don’t want to sit in your car in the parking lot and do nothing for 20+ minutes, but you make every single light.

45. People who say they are open minded and then judge ME because I choose not to do drugs. I once worked at a restaurant where everyone else did light drugs and they thought I was weird and stuck up because I didn’t. I didn’t care that they smoked pot, but they sure cared that I didn’t.

46. When people post in Facebook groups that they’re looking for a job (or even worse: that they want to watch someone’s kids!) and their profile pic is one of them flicking off the camera, or doing drugs, or something else that’s highly inappropriate for a “professional” looking for a job (and God forbid, if they are looking for babysitting jobs, makes you want to duct tape your child to yourself so you never have to worry about entrusting their care to someone who has no problem showing themselves to the whole world like that).

47. Second-hand smoke. Yuck.

48. Pugs.

49. Trying to type out a long sentence on a cell phone keyboard. I have tiny fingers and I still manage to mash every key around the one key I’m trying to use.

50. Seeing the same commercial 50 times in a row on Hulu. Or hearing the same commercial 50 times in a row when listening to Pandora.

51. Stand up comedy. I don’t know why, I love to laugh, comedies are my favorite type of movie, I will laugh at damn near anything even if it’s not funny (sometimes especially if it’s not funny, because it’s so not funny that it’s funny to me), but I don’t like stand up comedies. I do however like to listen to Jeff Foxworthy in the car with my dad, and Jeff Dunham because he uses puppets.

52. I hate how saying I like Jeff Dunham because he uses puppets makes me feel like a little kid, but it’s true! His puppets are cool and funny as hell (at times, I do feel some of his jokes are overused and not very funny).

53. When people are proud and proudly proclaim to everyone that they are a self-described bitch. What happened to kindness?

54. Muggy weather.


Cake Wars

Note: I technically started this blog post the day before Thanksgiving, but realized it was 3am ON Thanksgiving and we had to be up and at ’em by 9am to get on the road for San Antonio so I had to rush off to bed before I could finish it up. I’m sorry!

Mmmm, nothing like the smell of cupcakes baking, especially when you know you won’t be tempted to eat them because they’re chocolate cupcakes and you don’t like chocolate cupcakes. But they smell SOO good I may have to try just one, just to see if I still hate them. It’s weird because it’s the only type of chocolate anything I don’t like.

My kitchen (and my arms) are much dirtier than they normally are after baking cupcakes, something I love to do, because I was overly tired and talking to my friend as I prepared them and I forgot the water. My husband told her that everyone back in Germany raved about my cupcakes and always demanded I bring them to FRG meetings and any time three or more were gathered anywhere, and I blushed and told her I had no idea why, I told anyone that would listen that it was just simple store bought cupcake mix, it wasn’t even homemade, I just enjoyed decorating them in cute ways and not skimping on sweet, calorie-laden icing. But she said her cupcakes always turned out horrible and she had no idea why so she wanted to watch me bake sometime…I told her I just happened to be volunteered to make cupcakes for Thanksgiving tomorrow so she could come watch me tonight if she would like.

So we’re talking and laughing and having a good time and I’m not completely focused on the cupcakes as I measure out vegetable oil and crack the eggs. As we start mixing, the batter is REALLY thick, like crazy-climbing-up-the-beaters thick. I told her I’ve never made chocolate cupcakes before (I prefer spice cake) and so it’s their fault, maybe they’re suppose to turn out this way. She asked, “Did you add water?” and I say as I grab the box to double check, “No, just the oil and eggs, it didn’t say anything about………….Oh. Shit. I was suppose to add a cup of water.” So I add the water, pray I didn’t just screw up my cupcakes, and turn the mixer on as low as it will go. Shit nearly hit the fan. We got water-y, chocolate stuff flying EVERYWHERE. On me, on the bowls that I pulled out but decided were too small and I was too lazy to stick them back in the cupboard (yay, I learned the hard way not to be lazy), on my canisters, on me, on the counters, I think some landed on the house next door, on me, on the window, and did I mention on me? It kind of reminded me of the flour wars I’d get into with my mom and sister back in the day, only unintentional and not nearly as much fun. But still pretty funny. And it’s okay because I needed a shower anyway.

I am really looking forward to tomorrow because I haven’t been able to spend much time with my husband’s side of the family, and they were really cool and fun the first time I was able to meet them shortly after we moved here. I am still really shy and nervous around them though, because both he and his mom have always talked very highly of them, so it kind of felt like I was meeting famous people and I very much wanted them to like me. When we were still dating, my husband went up to North Carolina for his cousins wedding, and he told me that four of his aunts pulled him into a room and proceeded to bombard him with questions about me, they were very fascinated with his new (and first serious) girlfriend. They spent the next 3 or so years talking about how much they wanted to meet me, so when the big day came, I felt like I had very big shoes to fill! But it went great, they were so kind and welcoming to me and I felt like I had been a member of the family forever. Here’s hoping tomorrow goes just as well!


Pinterest is Addictive

While I was browsing Pinterest today for nothing in particular, I came across a great saying. “Talk about your blessings more than you talk about your burdens.” I’m sorry it didn’t come with a name so I can give proper credit. But I am going to do my best to live by this because it’s good advice. I am a positive person by nature, I just have times or days when I dwell way too much on the negative. I’m pretty sure everyone else does it. I’m just saying that to make myself feel better, but it’s working, so yay!

The past few days since I wrote my last “woe-is-me” blog post have been pretty great. It is freezing cold here so I get to bundle up in comfy pants, long sleeve shirts, and try and find my cute winter hat with the Pom Poms. I was very happy to try on my winter coat (I was feeling like being a pansy even though a sweater would have sufficed) and have it still fit me very well. It’s a size small Land’s End jacket. Towards the end of last winter it was getting a little snug and I was dreading trying it on…but it fits a little better now which makes me feel great. I am still at war with my scale, I refuse to step on it because every time I do it tries to ruin my day (I have been working out and eating more healthily for about 6 weeks now and have only lost two pounds.) I have better luck with scales when I don’t step on them for months and then realize I am four pounds less than my goal weight. Fingers crossed it will happen again like it did four years ago!

I was just doing Zumba previously (and walking the dogs about 3 miles every couple of days) but I found a Cardio Kickboxing class (my favorite) in our area and started that this week in addition to Zumba. I love it, and I was sore as hell the next day which thrilled me. I’m not a masochist, I swear, I hate pain, but it’s a good feeling to know that what you’re doing is working because your body feels it the next day! I love Zumba but I never “feel” it later.  I tried Yoga today and while it wasn’t bad, I’m not sure how I feel about it. I was very clumsy and couldn’t put my foot on the inside of my other leg just below the knee while my hands were in the air without wobbling all over the place and occasionally falling over while all my other classmates looked like perfect trees. But I want to like it, I want to be good at it, because yoga is great for your body. And I like to stretch and not have an achy back.

After that I had to run to the health clinic and get my second dose of the Gardasil shot and while I was there anyway, the flu shot. I’m right at the cut off for it (26) and I really wish I was told about it sooner so it would be more effective, but oh well, I was still able to get it and I’ll complete the series before I even turn 27 so it’s definitely better than not getting it at all. Now the one thing I’m not afraid of is needles, but that sucker hurt worse than the first one. It hurt more than the flu shot. But my flu shot arm is now sore and the Gardasil arm feels fine. Go figure!

It’s also a good thing dogs can’t understand human language, because my darlings would be pretty peeved at me if they could. It’s been a few days since their last walk (because of the cold) and they were starting to get restless. So I bundled up and we headed outside. I still haven’t been able to find my hat or gloves so the wind was feasting on my exposed skin. I grumbled, “I hate you guys so much right now,” as we were walking because complaining about the cold kept my mouth moving which made me warmer. Then we came home and all was forgiven as we warmed up and ate snacks. I always share with them because Luna in particular has perfected the “Guilt” eyes. Her eyes can make you believed she’s starved to death and you haven’t fed her in weeks (even though you could have sworn she had breakfast this morning) so you feel compelled to share your goodies with her. I really don’t mind, and I owed it to them for being grumbly.


First Post

I didn’t think I would use this blog because I’m no writer, but I worry I will explode if I don’t have some outlet to write out my frustrations. That or I may smother my husband in his sleep (just joking).

I hate my life. I hate that I hate my life because I have an amazing life. I have a roof over my head, (too much) food in my belly, I’m nice and warm and toasty, and I have a husband who loves me. But I’m still angry. I’m angry that I’m 26 with nothing to show for it. I am a loser who is only qualified to work at freaking Subway and various other food-related establishments. My dream, my goal, is to be a nurse working in pediatrics. I would already be one if I hadn’t gotten married at 23 and moved across the world. And I should be grateful for that, I spent three years living in Europe, something most people only dream of, and I complain because I wasn’t able to continue my schooling there. I want to help people. I want to help animals. I want to leave this world a little bit better than when I came into it. But we move around so much that I never know where to begin in a new place. I couldn’t do much in Germany because I didn’t speak the language and never knew what was going on unless it was something the government wanted us to know about so they printed up flyers in English. I am angry that I feel so depressed that I don’t know what, or how, to start changing. I’m going back to school in January which makes me very happy. It would have been August, but even though I filled out every form I needed to, sent out copies of everything I needed to send out, I forgot to turn in our 2013 tax information (even though it was included in the Pell grant I applied for) and by the time I turned it in, it was two weeks until term started and they told me it would take six to eight weeks to process. Bastards. I wanted to apply to the nursing program in January, but now the earliest I can apply is next fall. I will be 27. I want to be a nurse at LEAST by the time I’m 30 but we’ll see. These programs are, after all, highly competitive.

I’m angry that I’ve gained weight, and I’m angry that I cried this morning (yes, I’m a grown woman) because I couldn’t find anything to wear that fit me and made me feel pretty. It’s recently gotten cold out and I haven’t needed my winter clothes since way earlier this year. My husband asked me about them, where are all my pretty clothes that I’ve been wearing the past few winters, and I told him I outgrew them. My pants won’t even go above my thighs. Talk about humiliation. I’m angry that my husband thinks clothes are cheap and wants to give me $40 to get a new wardrobe. I’m angry that when I go to the thrift store because sometimes you can find cute clothes that don’t have spaghetti stains or look like they’ve been through the washer 500 times, my husband gets mad because it makes us look poor. We ARE poor, because he has a million hobbies that must come above his wife feeling pretty in her clothes because she no longer feels she’s pretty enough by her body alone. Because his wife doesn’t have a job (I had one, before we moved) and hasn’t been able to find one yet so that’s her fault, she can buy what she wants when she gets a job.

I’m angry that he can buy a $20 pair of cargo pants and a $15 nice collared shirt at Kohl’s and look handsome as a devil, but my jeans are $30 and my shirts are $20. But wait, that’s over my $40 budget for clothes. Let me point out that I am NOT a fashionista. I have no sense of style. I can appreciate if an outfit looks nice, but send me into a department store to buy a new outfit and leave me for an hour, I will still be standing near the entrance with a deer in the headlights look. I just don’t know how to pair clothing up. I didn’t even know how to layer until my early 20s, and I still don’t exactly get it. Sometimes I don’t even feel like a girl. Sometimes I wish I was born a guy. Except I really like to wear dresses, and I don’t think that would go over well as a dude. My secret? Dresses are pretty, comfortable, and it’s only one piece of clothing to worry about. If I find a cute dress that’s modest, comfortable, and pretty, I will wear it out within two weeks. It’s much easier to throw on a dress than find a nice top and bottom that go well together.

I never wear make up (I did today, because I was desperate to feel prettier and make up was the only thing I had that could help. I just have concealer and lip gloss. I can’t find my blush because I haven’t used it since February when we went to a military ball.) It all started in my head as a teenager that if guys can be gorgeous without make-up, then I don’t need to spend our precious little money on make-up to be pretty either. But to be honest I only told myself that because we couldn’t afford it. And now I worry that I’ve gone so long without it, people will think I’m “trying too hard” or something else that’s unreasonable if I start wearing it now at 26. Yes, I know I’ve got mental issues. Don’t get me started on those…

I’m angry we were in Austin yesterday, a city that’s an hour away from where we live, and they had a World Market there, one of my favorite stores. I wanted a bottle of “Dachshund” wine, and they only have it there. Because I love dachshunds. We have two of them. I don’t even drink wine, I just wanted to display the bottle just in case people didn’t know how obsessed I am with dachshunds. The wine was $10.99. My husband said we couldn’t afford it. He said we couldn’t afford to go anywhere else, do anything else that I’d like to do, because he just spent $100 at a beer supply store because his newest hobby (I could kick the person that offered to sell him their starter kit for $20 last week) is making his own beer. So we drive home. We stop at a cigar store because he needs cigars. He spends $40. I asked him where this money came from. He laughed and said he always has cigar money. It’s funny because he always has cigar money, he always has model tanks/airplanes/ship money, he always has beer brewing money, he always has model train money. I’d like some curtains because we have a side door that faces a busy pool and I’d like a little bit of privacy. We don’t have the money, that’s silly. Can I buy some pictures to hang on the wall? No, we really don’t need that. Can we spay our dog so she stops bleeding all over the house for two weeks every six months? No, our male is neutered, she can wait. Or my favorite…the dogs need their heart-worm medicine, let’s buy it so a mosquito doesn’t bite them and they die a painful, terrible death because worms are literally living, breeding, and birthing their young in their hearts. No, we get paid in a week, let’s buy it then so we can do something else with our money now. (Don’t worry, I fought him on that and now the dogs are upset that we shove pills down their throat every month, but it’s for their own good).

I hate that my needs and wants are placed second to his. I hate that he makes me feel like a shit wife because I have been so depressed I don’t keep the house as clean as it should be. I hate that he makes my job of cleaning harder by being the most slobbiest, filthiest person I have ever met (and my mom cleans houses for a living so I’ve seen some crazy stuff). I hate that I clean my kitchen, work so hard on it, and when I wake up in the morning he is brewing beer all over the place, spilling beer guts on the floor, and then when he’s done he walks away to terrorize the living room and I’m left wondering why I even try. I have no idea how mothers with young children do it. I would be terrible at being a mother, I can’t even keep up with my husband’s mess.

I hate that my father is always asking me about going to the dentist. See, we had dental insurance, but after I got my teeth cleaned and got some bad teeth taken out, my husband cancels the policy because “we don’t need it anymore.” I guess as long as I’m not in pain, I don’t need regular dental check-ups. My father says my husband should take it more seriously, this is a big deal, and he needs to take care of me. I hate that I need to be taken care of, I was suppose to be a nurse, making good money by now and living in my own apartment near the children’s hospital I had always dreamed of working at, still close to my family, but with my own life. Now I live over 1,000 miles away. I should be done with school but I fell in love and by my own choice, put my education on hold to move away. I don’t regret it, but I wish my husband supported me more. See how much pain it causes me that I’m worthless right now. Make me feel like it was worth it. But no, I am pressured to get a job, because we need the money. But don’t forget, in a month, he wants to go back home for two weeks. I’m not stupid, what employer in their right mind would hire me and say it was no problem to leave for 2 weeks when I’ve barely been working there a month? I’ll just throw that in there at my interview, I’m sure I’ll get a call back when they’ve got hundreds of teenagers applying for the same position.

I also have fears, anxieties, that I have kept hidden from everyone except my husband until recently. They came out when I couldn’t lie about them or hide them any more and I was put into therapy. It didn’t help. It made it worse. I am more fearful and anxious now than I ever was before. I was put down. No one understood my fears. They thought I should grow up, that they’re not a big deal, that I’m a bad girl for having these fears. But it is a big deal to ME and I just wish someone would tell me that…”I understand your fears. They’re normal. Now, let’s take a few steps to try and make you unafraid.” If I knew what those steps were, I’d take them myself. But no. I am told I am irrational and my fears don’t make sense (duh) and I should get over them, but I’m not told how. The one good thing about moving? I left all that behind (or so I thought). I thought I could make a clean slate here. Go back to my lies, and no one would ever know the truth. Don’t go back into therapy because they will want to know why, and I will have to tell them why I was in therapy before, and I will face the same unhelpful comments again that made me feel so bad. Don’t ask for birth control pills, because then they will know. I didn’t. I don’t. But I still got a call last week that messed my whole day up, my whole mind frame, and I’m scared again. Because my slate technically wasn’t wiped clean when we left our last city. But I won’t do anything about it, because I am weak.

I want to be a child again.

And I hate that I love my husband so, so, SO much, because despite everything I said here, he is a wonderful person. He loves me. I know he does. He tells me all the time. He is fiercely protective over me, which I also love. He is not controlling, he just knows I like to feel safe after a shaky childhood and that the world scares me. I forgive him so easily. I clean up his messes. I make dinner, bring him a plate. He doesn’t ask me to, I just like to feel useful. I wash his clothes for the next morning and hang them up on the hook on the door so he wakes up, sees that his uniform is ready, and he can go back to sleep. He really is quite a scatter brain. I love that about him, though. I just don’t love his messiness. I love that I’m the one who can help him find where he left his hat, his jacket, his one PT sneaker because he has one in his hand and can’t find the other one. I love that when he needs the scissors, the tape, the measuring glass, that little gasket thing that I had no idea what it was for but I remembered exactly where I put it when I unpacked because my mind just remembers little things like that. I really feel like we complete each other. Because when I am afraid, he is there for me. And I am there for him, though his problems are more along the lines of what kind of soap goes in the dishwasher. No, even though dish detergent is for washing dishes in the sink, you can’t put it in the dishwasher. I know it’s weird, honey, and now there are soap bubbles all over the floor, but I just laugh and smile at you because this is one thing I can do right…even if I don’t do it all the time.

I was so upset when I started writing this. I was so full of anger, self-loathing, and hatred that I forgot how much I have to be thankful for. I have a great life. I will get better. I will get over this depression. I will keep my house clean while I search for a part-time job to bring in extra cash, and I WILL get accepted into a nursing program and I will help people, even if I’m 30. It’s really not that old. I will feel better about myself, because I only feel like I have worth if I am doing something good for someone else. I’m already feeling better now, just getting some of my anger out, even if no one reads this. I actually hope no one reads this, that would be really embarrassing.