I’m offended at your offense of my being offended.

Screenshot 2019-07-24 at 8.53.34 AMI saw this article posted yesterday in a facebook group, and it was a HOT TOPIC! Is anything NOT a hot topic anymore though? Really? The old saying, “Opinions are like assholes, everybody’s got one!,” has never rung truer. And actually,  even that saying could spark a debate about it’s being exclusive to those who had anal cancer or some other issue that resulted in them being assholeless.

So, FIRST OF ALL- BRAVO to Macy’s because this is a BRILLIANT marketing scheme. Let’s all realize this for what it is.

2nd of all- The plates are just dumb. A plate of salad would put you “mom jeans” territory.

And of course, 3rd of all- the ultimate destination:

I thought a lot about the whole issue here, and for me, these things boil down to, “What message do you want to put out into the world to make it a better place?”

I think the world would be a better place if women weren’t judged by the amount of fat they have on their bodies or the amount of food they put in their face.

Therefore, I think these plates are sending an unnecessary message into the world. I think about people who own these plates and have little girls growing up seeing the message EVERY DAY that you should only eat that much food if you want to be “good.” Then add in someone who has boys too; little boys who grow up seeing every day that girls should only be eating tiny amounts to meet society’s standards but as boys, they can do whatever they want! I picture a 6yo brother and sister sitting at a table with these plates in from them and the messages they ate getting and think, perhaps, these plates don’t really need to be a thing that exists only to contribute to archaic ideas about what it means to be a woman?

But as we know, opinions are like assholes, everybody’s got one and cares more about thiers than anyone else’s.

The little yellow cat

Sean came into the living room tonight to report there was a little yellow cat on the porch meowing, so he opened the door to investigate, and it chased into our entryway after him hissing and spitting and meowing. So I come out to see if there is even really a cat since you never know with Sean.

There is a cat. And it is indeed meowing over and over as it almost frantically walks around on our steps looking at me through our kitchen window. I open the kitchen door and, as previously described by Sean, the cat comes running into the entry towards me, hissing, meowing, and trying to get into the house (even with giant Piper eagerly trying to join in on the fun!). So at this point, we are trapped in our apartment by this cat that I am convinced is rabid or something. I have never seen a cat act like that.

As we contemplate our plan, the cat leaves our porch and walks down the driveway so we can’t see her anymore. Sean is satisfied to move on with life. I, of course, am not. I go outside to see where the cat went and to check in with our neighbors who are cat people (and I mean CAT PEOPLE- like run a feral cat rescue, cat people). The second I turn the corner the cat comes at me doing the same hissing, crying, meowing. I talked to her (because I speak to all animals like they are people), “What is your deal? Are you lost? Are you hurt.?” When she reaches me, she starts rubbing on my legs and standing up on her back legs acting like she wants me to pick her up, but hisses and backs up if I start to bend over. Repeat. Repeat. “Ok weird cat. I’m going to see if you belong to someone.”

She did. Our neighbor exclaimed, “Oh my god! She got out earlier, and we haven’t been able to find her, and she’s never been outside before!” He walked outside with me, and the cat immediately ran (meowing, of course) into his arms.

And that was that.

I just can’t stop thinking about that little cat and the emotional turmoil she was CLEARLY going through. So much so that I honestly thought she was rabid. She was terrified but knew finding people, STRANGERS, to help her was the only way to get back where she belonged. She had to trust in people when it was going against her natural instincts. A giant internal emotional battle inside a tiny yellow cat. A tiny yellow cat who let herself trust (as much as she could) and is now home.

Have you ever thought about suicide?

I am at a 2-day training.  “CBT for Suicide Prevention”

First of all. I should note I am bad at trainings, conferences, workshops, symposiums (I don’t know that I’ve ever actually been to a symposium, but I’m sure I would hate it). I hate them. I am that ADD 6-year-old boy in school wiggling in his seat, bugging people next to him, playing with anything he can get his hands on, getting up to “use the bathroom” over and over, etc. Think I’m kidding?

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So yeah, I look miserable and like I am not paying attention, but I actually am taking it all in; which was the original point of this blog before I got immediately sidetracked.

If I ask you if you have ever thought about killing yourself, have I suddenly put the idea of killing yourself in your mind?  Have you read this and now are suddenly thinking, “Shit! I never thought of that idea! You know what? Imma kill me today! OMG TYSM!” No. You aren’t. Yet we don’t ever ask the question even though suicide is one of our country’s leading causes of death. Every time we hear of a suicide, we hear things like, “We had no idea.” “He never said a word.” “She seemed fine.” “She seemed happier than ever!”

When the presenter was talking about this, I parallelled it in my mind with people who don’t want sex education in schools because then kids will want to have sex. Then I thought to myself, “What a great analogy to use with people! Just like sex education at schools doesn’t cause kids to fuck, asking someone if they have ever thought about suicide won’t cause them to shoot themselves!”

Then  I remembered we are living in the Handmaid’s tale era and there are still a large majority of people who still think sex education causes sex.

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Moral of the story: Ask the question even if it feels weird. You could save someone’s life.

Take it from someone who knows… I Jumped Off The Golden Gate Bridge

 

 

 

 

 

This is a puke-free zone.

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Last night I said, “Honey…..” and my daughter said, “What?” I replied, “Not you, honey; Lonnie honey.” She said, “I know, I was just kidding. You have a very specific Lonnie voice.” My gut reaction was a feeling of awkward, indignant embarrassment. 1. That I am so predictable and 2. That I have a ‘Lonnie voice’ and other people notice.

Fortunately, I am a MASTER at thought replacement because of all the self-help podcasts and books I listen to.

And you can be too!  I responded within 2 seconds  with a giggle and a smile and, “I know I do!”  Our brains are AMAZING. Within those 2 seconds, the following conversation happened inside my head.

“WOAH…. I’m having a negative emotion about that! What’s that about? Why does it bother me that she pointed that out? Oh. I know why? Because for most of my life I was a ‘tough guy’ and equated snarky and sarcastic with being cool and strong, but I’m past that now and I am trying to live my life modeling love, especially for the kids because I was such a terrible role model for them with their father. I KNOW I have a ‘Lonnie voice’ because I want him to know I love and care about him with every word I say, and because I feel happy just talking to him and it comes out in my voice!  I want everyone in the world, ESPECIALLY Jessi and Sean, to have a special person who brings out a special voice in them too! So I’m gonna OWN AND ROCK THAT SHIT!!!”

screenshot_20180604-095258_snapchat43249595_10156848241724581_1724424228268146688_nOne way I worked on this issue was to recognize when I was having a negative reaction to people displaying love by rolling my eyes or thinking, “OMG GET A ROOM,” or “gag me with a credit card and put me on layaway.” or the puke emoji. I decided every time I caught myself doing this, I would stop myself and replace the thought with a smile and “Aw. I love love. They look happy and the more happy people in the world, the better!”  (even if I didn’t really feel that way yet as I knew I was a ‘lover of love’-in-training)  The smile is important. Saying it all out loud is even better. When you accompany your thoughts with physical actions, your brain locks that shit in! With years of practice, my instant, involuntary response to people kissing, holding hands, or taking couple selfies, is now a smile and a feeling a happiness.

I think that’s pretty great!

Overheard in my weight loss forum…

“Gross. I don’t come here to see big fat asses jiggling around,” pixie-of-a-girl said loudly to her friend at the gym, ensuring said fat-assed woman would hear.

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“Oh my god, I wish I could wear a shirt like that. I would never feel comfortable with my arms out like that,” said to me when I posted a post-workout photo in my favorite fun tank top. (Note: I didn’t take this as her suggesting anything was wrong with MY arms, but I was sad she felt so badly about her own.)

“I want to walk, but I don’t want the whole neighborhood to see me out walking because I’m embarrassed.” said by so many. Too many. swap out ‘walk’ for ‘gym’ and there are umpteen more.

These posts make me so sad. And angry. This morning I was jogging down Route 1a (aka Main Street), thinking about these posts, and then crafting this blog in my head. A social-worker-at-heart; I want to help everyone. I want to find out what the pixie girl has gone through to make her behave so cruelly. I want to force every fat chick in the world to wear cute, funny tank tops until they don’t give their arms a second thought. I want to teach people who are embarrassed to exercise to NOT GIVE A FUCK about what other people are thinking!

THERE WILL ALWAYS BE ASSHOLES!

Pixiegirl McFatshamer’s life brought to a place where she thinks it’s ok, and maybe even FUNNY, to be nasty. Her behavior has NOTHING to do with you. She has a black spot in her heart that needs healing. That’s HER issue; NOT yours. Think about it this way… You own a company. Fatchick McWorkout and Pixie McFatshamer are applying for jobs. Who do you hire? Fatchick McWorkout and Pixie McFatshamer are standing in the Karma or Heaven or whateveryoubelieve line: Who is getting promoted or heavened or whatever?

It is not lost on me as I jog down 1A that some of the people driving past me are having nasty thoughts, laughing at me with their friends, or making snarky comments. I DON’T GIVE A FUCK. It is also not lost on me that MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, one person will see my fat ass jiggling along and my eyes black-and-blue because my “good jog bra” was in the wash today, and think, “Wow…. if she can do it, maybe I can too!” And that makes me happy 🙂

I’ve been dreading this…..

screenshot_20180829-153934_samsung experience home3819688419122669314..jpg….and here it is. I’ve reached the practicum/field experience/internship stage of the MSW program. As of Saturday morning, I officially have no life outside of work, classes, and my practicum placement. OK; that’s dramatic and not even true. And a bad attitude. Let’s try that again. As of Saturday, I will have less free time and need to put a bit more focus into organization and time management so I can enjoy the free time I DO have!  THERE! Much better! For real though… looking at my calendar makes my heart race a little. I have carefully crafted my schedule to at least have Sundays free for family time, because they are my top priority!

I’m definitely scared and worried– partially because there is still a lot up in the air, but I also know I’ve got this. Lonnie is supportive. Sean seems to have his shit together. Jessi doesn’t even live around here 😉 And I feel good about at least having Sundays reserved for them. My biggest worry is working all my new healthy habits into this new busy lifestyle. I am kicking ass and taking names and I don’t want to throw away all I have learned. And I’ve not going to. MARK MY WORDS!

 

Socialworkishsunday: Something Happened

As a crisis worker, I spend a LOT of time in emergency departments. Up until about a year ago, I think I witnessed ONE overdose coming in, and then something happened. These days, I usually don’t get through a work shift without an overdose coming in. Sometimes they die. Narcan isn’t made of magic. Overhearing these people dying (because even if they live through that overdose…. they are still dying) day in and day out really takes a toll on me. So many people with so much life yet to live. But something happened, and now their life belongs to drugs.
There have ALWAYS been drugs and there have ALWAYS been people addicted to them. Something happened and now we have an epidemic. WHAT HAPPENED!????
I see people post the most disgusting and heartless memes recommending we just let all the drug addicts kill themselves, suggesting Narcam shouldn’t be readily available, saying ‘it’s their choice to do drugs—it’s their problem,’ etc. What if is ISN’T their choice? Do you really think ANY 5 year old out there is spinning around with their arms spread out daydreaming about the first time they get their hands on some smack? Coloring at the table imagining their first night as a homeless person? Getting ready for an 8th grade dance thinking about how excited they are to grow up and trade their first blow job for an 8-ball? No. But SOMETHING HAPPENED, and the it’s starting to seem like drugs are just as likely a future as college for kids growing up right now.
It is SO. EASY. TO. JUDGE. But I PROMISE YOU that EVERY overdose I overhear was once just a ‘regular kid,’ with hopes, dreams, crayons, and swings. EVERY overdose I overhear is someone with family members JUST LIKE YOU about to hear the worst news of their life; That any hope they were holding is gone.
We need to figure out what happened and then work on fixing it. Judging, ignoring, alienating, demonizing and ‘not-my-probleming’ is just making things so much worse.