Stressed Out & Sad Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to my friends who celebrate. I’ll be heading to my brother’s house soon myself.

This is my first major holiday without my mom and it’s…difficult.

I found this poem that helps a little bit.

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As for the stressed out, my boyfriend played this song for me and I’ve been mildly obsessed with it.

My codependent series will stop at 3 posts because I don’t want to do more.

I have some big news coming, I made a decision, which isn’t easy for me nowadays. I will update once it’s official.

Here’s the song, it’s new to me and not my usual genre, but I really dig it. (I’ve felt really old for the 1st time since I turned 45 back in August.)

Twenty One Pilots: Stressed Out 2015

I wish I found some better sounds no one’s ever heard
I wish I had a better voice that sang some better words
I wish I found some chords in an order that is new
I wish I didn’t have to rhyme every time I sang
I was told when I get older all my fears would shrink
But now I’m insecure and I care what people think
My name’s Blurryface and I care what you think
My name’s Blurryface and I care what you think
Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out
Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out
We’re stressed out
Sometimes a certain smell will take me back to when I was young
How come I’m never able to identify where it’s coming from
I’d make a candle out of it if I ever found it
Try to sell it, never sell out of it, I’d probably only sell one
It’d be to my brother, ’cause we have the same nose
Same clothes homegrown a stone’s throw from a creek we used to roam
But it would remind us of when nothing really mattered
Out of student loans and tree-house homes we all would take the latter
My name’s Blurryface and I care what you think
My name’s Blurryface and I care what you think
Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out
Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out
We used to play pretend, give each other different names
We would build a rocket ship and then we’d fly it far away
Used to dream of outer space but now they’re laughing at our face
Saying, “Wake up, you need to make money”
Yeah
We used to play pretend, give each other different names
We would build a rocket ship and then we’d fly it far away
Used to dream of outer space but now they’re laughing at our face
Saying, “Wake up, you need to make money”
Yeah
Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out
Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed out
Used to play pretend, used to play pretend, bunny
We used to play pretend, wake up, you need the money
Used to play pretend, used to play pretend, bunny
We used to play pretend, wake up, you need the money
We used to play pretend, give each other different names
We would build a rocket ship and then we’d fly it far away
Used to dream of outer space but now they’re laughing at our face
Saying, “Wake up, you need to make money”
Yeah

Peace

I’ve been desperately seeking peace.

I find it in pieces here and there, but the world is a chaotic place and not at all peaceful most of the time.

I try to look inside myself for the peace that I crave so badly. I can sense that it’s there, just waiting for me to tap into it somehow.

Underneath the anger and betrayal of my ex-husband, there must be some peace pooled there waiting for me to sip at it.


I miss my mom. The tears are finally here after days of feeling this numb ache that seems to be my new normal. I allow myself to feel as I feel without too much judgement because I’ve been doing that to myself for far too long and I’m actually really tired of it.

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Grief is a hot mess.

I miss my mom, although I’m still so thankful that she isn’t suffering anymore. She was in so much pain, she was full of fear and so extremely depressed. I hated it, I hated seeing her like that. I still have a difficult time looking at photos of her from within the last 4 years, preferring to remember her when she was still somewhat healthy and happy.

Yes, I’m pretty sure that peace must come from within ourselves, but it’s as elusive as a calorie free piece of cake.


There’s an old song lyric that’s been bouncing around in my head the last few days.

I’m half alive but I feel mostly dead.

That was by Jewel, from way back in 1995. I was still just a young adult when she was popular. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Where the fuck do the years go? Yet as much as I want to go back, I also do not want to start over.

I’m too tired to do that…besides, I’m so close to finding my peace, I don’t want anything to go screwing it up.

The Asshat Years

It’s been more than two years since I first found out what my now ex-husband was doing and I still fantasize about contacting him.

I’ve written all that I have to say inside my head.

That my mom hated him and hoped that he rotted in hell, which still pisses me off that his betrayal stung her so badly. (My mom was not a hateful person.)

That I feel sorry for his new wife, because she has no idea that he’s a lying, cheating, (cold, dead-beatin’, two-timing, double-dealing, mean, mistreatin’, perverted narcissist.)

That I hope his new wife figures it out eventually and that he’ll yet again be up against a rock and a hard place, squirming around like a worm on a hot sidewalk.

But my friends tell me not to do it. Why waste my precious time? It’s much wiser to let karma do its job and it sure as hell doesn’t need my assistance.

Besides, he’d probably get off on it, knowing that he’s still causing me inner turmoil and whatnot.

I think it’s human nature to want revenge on someone who has wronged you so horribly. I do have my days when I’m perfectly happy with the way things panned out, but then the anger comes back and I picture myself running him over with my automobile.

I don’t enjoy reminiscing about the asshat years, but there were many of them and they continue to pester me daily. A song, a saying, a place, a television show…I’ll never be able to listen to Led Zeppelin again without wanting to vomit.

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What the fuck is up with their tight ass jeans? I mean, really fellas. I can literally see if you’re hanging to the right or to the left.

When people offer me their advice and tell me (not always kindly) to forget about him, that it’s in the past, I usually just nod my head and halfheartedly agree for the sake of keeping the peace. (I detest conflict.)

But what they don’t seem to understand is that it’s not me who doesn’t want to let go of the past…it’s the past that doesn’t seem to want to let go of me.

Ah well. At least I have my first therapy appointment coming up on December 5th.