Goofy Dreams

No, not a dream about Goofy.

I had a weird effin dream.  My friend’s daughter was playing in my yard.  Apparently, I was working on something that could hurt her and had told her parents to keep her out of the yard, because I didn’t want her to get hurt.

Well, she played in the yard anyway, tripped and started to fall on SOMETHING (I have no freakin clue what) that would impale her if she landed.  I dropped what I was doing to catch her and in the process sliced my inner thigh pretty good. 

As I’m arguing with her parents about why she’s crying and why I had a death-grip on her, I’m bleeding out.  Cold.  Light-headed.  Unsteady (because, come on, doesn’t everyone keep standing after they’ve had their femeral artery sliced?  OY)

Don’t remember much after that. 

So, obviously, I had to do a little research.  Get a load of this shit…



To dream that you are bleeding or losing blood signifies that you are suffering from exhaustion or that you are feeling emotionally drained. It may also denote bitter confrontations between you and your friends. Your past actions has come back to haunt you…If blood is squirting everywhere, then the dream implies that you are experiencing some deep emotional stress. You are literally bursting.

Well DAYUM!  It couldn’t be more on point! 

Here’s another one…

To dream that you are hemorrhaging suggests loss of vitality, loss of faith in yourself, and lack of self-confidence. Also consider where you are hemorrhaging from and analyze the symbolism of that body part.


To dream that your leg is wounded or crippled signifies a lack of balance, autonomy, or independence in your life. You may be unable or unwilling to stand up for yourself. Perhaps you are lacking courage and refuse to make a stand.

Ha!  This one makes no sense…

To see your thigh in your dream symbolizes stamina and endurance. It refers to your ability to perform and do things. If you are admiring your thigh in your dream, then it signifies your adventurous and daring nature. However you need to be careful with your conduct.



To save a child in your dream signifies your attempts to save a part of yourself from being destroyed.


It’s amazing what your brain tries to do while you’re sleeping.

(I have no clue why the formatting on this post is so effed up…)


I have so much swirling around in my head.  And it feels like it’s all smoke and mirrors because I can’t “catch” any one thought.  If I can’t catch the thought, I can’t FINISH the thought and then put into action my perceived solution. 

And it’s driving me bat-shit crazy!!!

And because I’m bat-shit crazy, I’m being a passive-aggressive bitch to MY FRIENDS.  Friends that don’t deserve even half the shit I’m doing. 


I just can’t focus.  Can’t pick ONE thing on my list of “Oh shit, now I have THIS to do???”.  Anytime I do start somewhere, I inevitably fall into another member on the list, and my focus shifts there.  It’s perpetual and frustrating. 

I haven’t been formally diagnosed with ADD, so I have no idea if there are meds out there to help me, but the meds I’m currently on (which are keeping my mood swings in check, believe it or not) are already causing me more sleep issues than I’d previously had.  I’m afraid more meds would just exacerbate the problem, and they’ll be sticking me in a rubber room if that happens. 😦

So…that brings me to my never-ending quest to find a starting spot and STICK TO THE FUCKING THING!

I’m a self-starter and hate being told what to do.  HATE IT.  But in this instance I NEED someone to tell me where to start and what to do next.  And I *hate* that I need it.  I am a stubborn “I’ll do it myself” pain-in-the-ass.  Seriously.  Stubborn gets me hurt (more than just physically).  And I hate having to ask for help.  It was hard going to the doctor to ask for help.  I hate taking meds.  Resent that I need them.  But I do need them, I wasn’t able to “fix” myself.  Apparently, there are some chemicals in my brain that are fucked. up.  Damn it >.<

I am one GIANT condradiction.  Which doesn’t help the situation.  I *know* this.  Why can’t I FIX it?!

Kick in the Teeth

I woke up this morning feeling the same as always, tired, but here.  Got ready for work (nightmare of a process that involved going to the basement for clothes…in my underwear).

Anyway, I got to work.  After finishing my email, voicemail, inventory routine, I jumped on the net and checked FB and some blogs.  Nothing unusual.  Typical day.

One of my blogs sent me into a grief-filled tizzy.  I haven’t cried over the loss of my mom in a good long while.  I’ve been able to talk about her (sometimes in the present tense) and not feel that quick stab in the heart.

Until this morning.

That grief kicked me in the face this morning.  It hasn’t even been a year yet, so I know I’m still raw and sensitive, but Jeebus Crisco!  WTF?!

I miss my mom today.  I miss her everyday, but today…I’m just raw.

I hate feeling raw.  Like road rash on my heart.  You feel the burn, feel the pain, but the size of the rash is too big for a bandaid.  Too big for gauze.  You have to leave it open and raw.  And tread carefully.  Hitting that rash could hurt.

Someone just freakin sanded that rash for me.  Not on purpose, she doesn’t even know me.  But the scabs that had started to form have been picked and irritated and in some spots are bleeding.   😦

I know that rash will never completely heal.  I know that scar will be raised and purple for a good long while.  Scars are a part of living.  It will join the ones that are already there and welcome the new ones with hugs and comforting words. 

But today…today I wish my heart was smooth and beautiful.

Ode To A Tattoo

Swirls of colored ink
A Butterfly in hiding
I love my tattoo

Nope, no Grecian Urns here.

I seriously got a tattoo.

No, seriously.  Color and everything.

My mother had given me a ring, quite a few years ago, that I’ve loved (and still do).  It’s totally my mother and me too.

It’s kinda hard to see, but it’s a bit of an abstract butterfly.  Not quite sure what the stuff is above the antennae and below the wings, but I assume it has to do with the construction of the ring.  However, the tattoo artist got creative.

I woke up Saturday Morning and just HAD to go get my tattoo.  I polled some friends to find the best place and was assured Studio 1 was the place to go.  I checked out their website and discovered they didn’t open until 1 pm, so I had just over an hour to kill.  *sigh*  I’m not a very patient person, which is why it was a “wake up and do it” kinda day.

I don’t remember HOW I killed that hour, but I did.  Drove to the studio and waited for nearly another hour.  In that wait tho, I was able to talk to the artist who adapted the design from my ring.  Discussed with him (and then the actual tattoo artist) about coloring.  Yes, I am a HUGE child and like color.  Sue me.

Soon enough, it was time for me to sit in the hot seat.  I wasn’t really nervous.  More a combination of excited and nervous.  Hell, I was so excited for this thing, I went BY MYSELF.  I don’t do crap like that alone!

Greg and I discussed what I wanted and where I wanted it.  I didn’t think I could get it where I *really* wanted it, so I had an odd spot picked out (because, who wants to be normal?).  Turns out, I *could* get it where I wanted it and we slapped the sucker (template) down.

I gave him a picture of how I wanted the coloring done.  Keeping in mind my picture was a watercolor and the tattoo couldn’t perfectly mimic that.

Again, we discussed that this wouldn’t be a perfect blending.  Then we got ta tattooin’!

I thought for sure that I’d jump once the needle hit my skin, but I didn’t.  I can’t watch when I have needles at the doctor and although I was fascinated by this process, I still couldn’t watch it all (I would get lightheaded if I watched, but if I looked around the room and babbled incessantly, I was fine.  Poor Greg.  LOL)

All tolled, it took about 30 minutes to get the tattoo.  It’s beautimous and I love it!  All for me and what I wanted.  It’s mostly in memory of my mom, but it’s totally for me.

What do you think?

cheater post!

I did something worth talking about.

Go read it HERE



Well, Peanut was back to the doctor yesterday.

He’s been having some belly pains off-and-on for about 3-4 months now.  They’re on his left side, close to his belly button, but a little higher.

I’ve tried asking him he needed to poop/fart.  No.

Eat something that didn’t agree with him?  No (nothing that he hasn’t eaten a bazillion times before)

Issues with school/friends/classmates?  No.  School work was getting a little much, but not enough to make him anxious.  He *did* get anxious over the freaking PSSAs until I finally told him I didn’t care if he made pretty patterns with the circles.  It didn’t affect/effect? his grade, so I wasn’t going to worry about it and neither should she (apparently, “if you can look me in the eye and tell me that’s the best you could, then I’m ok with this grade” is applying pressure to him *sigh*)

So, no “psycho-sematic” reason for the belly pain.

Even thought maybe his allergies were causing the nausea and pain.  (post nasal drip is gross).  Gave him Zyrtec and he still woke up with pain.

So after reading a blog on the internet, I got a little scared and called the doctor.  They asked him all sorts of questions, thumped his belly, etc.  And determined that they couldn’t figure out anything but wanted to do some lab work.

Peanut was NOT happy upon hearing he’d have to give blood (I mean “if looks could kill” not happy – slight needle phobia…slight being a severe understatement).  We also had to get a stool sample kit.

Oh joy!


I’ve done about 1/2 the samples, have to do 2 more and then take them back.  What a freakin (minor) nightmare.

He’s miserable.  I’m totally grossed out.  But we both want to know what’s going on.  If there’s nothing medically wrong, then I need to inform his therapist that he’s upset over something and my not be aware of what it is.  :-/

Ah, the joys of parenthood…

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