I don’t FEEL like writing tonight, but guess what?—- I am because I made a commitment to myself (and to you) to write daily blogs. I’ve LITERALLY had a very shitty day. My pup, Kahlua, is sick. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on with her. She’s having TONS of mucus-covered diarrhea……I know, sounds DELISH, huh? The shit storm started bright and early at 6am and Kahlua diarrhead all over herself, the hardwood floor in the kitchen and ALL over the blue rug in the living room. Cleaning and scrubbing up diarrhea is NOT fun. My pup will be 16-years old this Halloween (10/31/20) and I’m very worried about her. I don’t want to write too much of my fear here because I don’t want to conjure anything and have my fears come true. I was JUST writing about that yesterday…….shit, it could have been today…….who knows…..my brain is covered in poo today. I was telling a friend that even my THOUGHTS will manifest into tangible things! So, I really have to be SUPER mindful of my thoughts. Thought is super powerful and so are words— written or spoken.

And then shit with Donnie’s daycare is pissing me off— I just want him to be well taken care of there and I’m concerned that he’s not getting proper attention. When I picked him up from school today and we went to the car, he asked for his water and he drank almost the ENTIRE water bottle in like 6 seconds flat! WTF. Dude, are they not giving my child enough water??? Ugh….. I was told that there are designated “water breaks” and now that he’s in Pre-K, he has to get the water all by himself! WHAT??? I’m not doubting he can do that because I’m sure he can, but this is all new to me. When he was in the Toddler Room, he had his own water bottle (from home) and then one his teachers provided. Basically, he could drink water whenever he wanted to. But NOPE, not so in Pre-K. What the fuck, dude? Things are different now because of COVID and Donnie’s been out of daycare for 6 months. They are super good to him and me— and I do appreciate that so much. But what tipped me off tonight is that when I went to undress him for his bath tonight, I looked down at his dipe and realized that the dipe he had on WAS NOT HIS!! WTF??? Donnie wears pull-ups now— he’s been wearing pull-ups for probably a year now…..my sense of time is off, so it could be longer. But the point is, he was NOT wearing his pull-ups that I provide for him at school and he’s got an actual baby diaper on that’s like 3 sizes too small for him! Seriously, it looked like he had on bikini bottoms it was so small on him. Look, I’m aware things get misplaced at daycare and things just “happen”, but fuck, man, I had JUST dropped off 16 pull-ups fucking yesterday! Ugh……so fucking irritated. I just didn’t feel like dealing with this type issue— because NOW it’s an issue. The water issue and the dipe issue. I’ve got to calm the fuck down before I talk to the owner though because I don’t want to be a raging bitch when I talk to her……that would not be good.

So, yeah, my nerves are tapped today and when Donnie gets home, he often has tantrums and whines ……but it’s because he’s been holding “IT” all in all fucking day…….meaning holding in his feelings of stress, worry, etc……whatever they might be. He’s an angel at daycare— his teachers always tell me he never cries and he’s always happy. But he let’s it all hang out with me after school because I’m his “safe place”….I’m his mama. He feels safe with me to let out all of his feelings and to express his stress. But dude, TODAY, I fucking couldn’t handle his stress. I couldn’t handle MY FUCKING STRESS TODAY. I was emotionally tapped out and I was a ticking time bomb.

I yelled at Donnie— I was a dick. And then I didn’t feel like apologizing…..I didn’t feel like being nice. Isn’t that horrible??? I did apologize, but I didn’t want to. I just feel like a piece of shit parent. I just want my happy, giggly Donnie when I pick him up from school, but that’s not what I get and it sucks……it’s hard on me. But guess what???— I’ll fucking deal with it because that’s how life is right now and in general. Sometimes things just fucking suck donkey balls, but you push through that shit anyway because it won’t last forever……the shit eventually dries up. So much shit, ya’ll……..so much shit. My poor Kahlua pup. Fuck, man, I’ve washed her butt like 10 times today— covered in diarrhea. Thank GOD I have a hose on my front patio— I’d be fucked if I didn’t have that. No, I’d just be covered in more fucking shit. I pray that Kahlua is going to be OK. I saged both myself and Kahula last night. Dude, I probably need to sage again tonight, but I’m not going to— I’m fucking tired and I’m just glad I’m writing this blog right now.

Not everyone in your life is going to push you to do better and that’s why it’s up to YOU to fucking push yourself to get shit done. For me, if I say, “I’ll do it tomorrow”……or “I’ll do it later”. I’m telling ya, 9 times out of 10, it does NOT get done……..or, if it DOES get done, it’s much later……like 6 months later. Like writing this blog— I forced myself to do it because I made a commitment to do it and also because I know it’ll make me feel better. Fuck, writing is like “my meeting” right now. I haven’t been to a meeting in fucking forever— I have mixed feelings on meetings though, but that’s ANOTHER blog topic.

So, writing is an excellent way to release all my angst and stress and also exercising helps me not only feel better, but LOOK fucking better. Dude, I’ve gained weight— not a tremendous amount of weight, but more than I’d like to. I want to trim up/slim down and just fucking FEEL BETTER— and move my fucking body! My left heel is hurting and guess what?— I haven’t done fucking shit to “hurt it”, so why the fuck would it be sore? Usually my heel hurts if I’ve been walking a lot, but I haven’t been doing that, soooooo……..Ahhhh, yes, good times……mysterious ailments.

I did pick at my face tonight— I caved and resorted to “old coping mechanisms”. I wanted to feel that physical pain because my emotional pain was too overwhelming. And also, it’s a way I punish myself— to tarnish my beauty because I don’t deserve happiness or love. Fuck, man…..that’s hardcore when I write it out. Yes, it’s completely untrue— logically, I know this, but subconsciously, my body feels this to be true. I so want to change that. And I’m aware that I’m the only one that can do that. Fuck, man.

And yet ANOTHER stresser…..it’s this huge court case I’ve been working on (regarding Donnie) for the last 3.5-years……I got an update from my appointed Judge and I have a virtual Hearing on October 13, 2020 at 2:30pm. I’m praying to God everything goes well. But here’s the deal……it’s like when I get SUPER stressed, I think about ALL the other things that are stressing me out— to make my stress even worse!!! What the fuck is that??? I so need to stop torturing myself. I can be so mean to myself sometimes…..but I can also be so loving. I’m a walking paradox.

And triggers…..my mom said to me tonight, “Is Donnie getting all his fruits and vegetables?” I know she means well, but we’ve talked about this— I set a boundary on talking about what SHE thinks Donnie should eat. I immediately think that she’s doubting my parenting abilities and saying, “You’re not taking care of your son.” A meme that I read recently said, “WE HEAR THINGS DIFFERENTLY WHEN WE HEAL.” Dude, that is SO true. But you know what I did???— I didn’t REACT. I didn’t freak out and I just said, “Donnie is fine. He’s getting proper nutrition.” I said something to that effect. Well, my mom didn’t like that answer and that shut her down……she was all of a sudden “tired” and ready to get off the phone. But hey, that’s OK. Setting boundaries, for me, at least, can be uncomfortable and NOT reacting can also trigger others. When you do something that is not your normal response to something, then it throws people off and sometimes they don’t know how to deal with it. So, whatever. My son gets fed. Sometimes it’s goldfish for a meal and sometimes it’s chicken. Seriously, I just try to get something in his tummy for meals. Dis boy’s gotta eat because he goes 90-to-nothing and needs food to refuel!

So, I’m going to start taking care of myself and finding more ways to manage my emotional stress because I don’t want to take out my anger on my son— that is NOT right and he doesn’t deserve that. I want to REMAIN a SAFE PLACE for him— I don’t want him to be scared to show his true feelings with me. Tonight, I basically told him (not literally), “Donnie, you need to stuff your feelings tonight.” Fuck, man……NO. That is bullshit. That’s what I did for so many years and it’s not good. And I’m going to keep on being consistent. I feel good about myself when I’m consistent. Like tonight, I feel good about myself that I wrote this blog, even though I totally did not want to and I wanted to be a blog on the couch and worry about my pup and other stressors that stress me the fuck out. WOW— that sounds super awesome, Michelle! Yeah, good times. So, hopefully I’ll worry a little less now that I’ve written out “my feelings”. I’m hoping tonight won’t be too terribly stressful— I’m sleeping downstairs on the couch to be with Kahlua. I have her gated in the kitchen area, so she won’t have diarrhea all over the living room rugs. But the thing is that when Kahlua lies down on the hardwoods, she’s not able to get up by herself……her back legs are too weak and the hardwood surface does not provide ample traction for her to be able to lift up her back legs. So, I have to go over and help her up. If she lies down on the carpet, she can get up by herself.

I’m so blessed that I can BE HERE for Kahlua when she needs me. I’m so blessed to have my beautiful son, Donnie and to be his mom. Stress, is a blessing— it CAN be if you choose to look at it that way.

Ok, ya’ll, please say a prayer for my sweet Kahlua. I pray that she recovers from this very soon. I hope it’s just stress related. I’m thinking she might be stressed that Donnie is in daycare— and that she misses him. Remember, SHOW THE FUCK UP FOR LIFE and continue to rock that badass self of yours. Love you!