No, for reals. My reader ate you. All of you. Each of you. You have been eaten by my reader.

So I’m gonna be switching to Bloglines now.

Ten months of blogs put in a reader, gone in a glitch. Boy oh boy.

So, um. Loves ya, it’s gonna take a while to get this one straightened out.

Okay. Funny as I typed the title I typed “Growing towards a God”. Wonder what else is on my mind.

Once upon a time, I was a Recruitment Adviser for my college sorority chapter. I attended a conference organized by the international group geared towards helping chapters have more successful recruitments.

There was a great workshop on “branding”. The main idea being to pick 3 words that you want to describe your chapter, everything you do should fall into one of the categories/words you have chosen for your chapter.

It’s a lot like the concept on HGTV’s Find Your Style. Pick 4 or 5 elements for your room and stick with them. (I’m a total addict. I heart DVR.)

I went through a long, dark patch, and had just pulled myself out of it when the shizzle hit the fizzle.

I’m ready to get my act together. I have the time, the resources and I’m striving to have the energy to do it. Perfection is not an option. Perfection is not a goal. Improving my life, Scout’s life and Alex’s life – absolutely.

My thoughts started out rather superficially. All about looks. Hair, clothes, style. Fun stuff.

I always liked the look of Carolyn Bessette.

(Photo from Vanity Fair.)

and Reese Witherspoon

(Photo from Popsofa.com.)

Does this mean I want to be blonde? Nope. It’s something about their general look I’m drawn to.

(For the record, my girl crush on Reese was eclipsed by Addison Forbes Montgomery Shepherd.)

(Photo from msnbc.com.)

Which then led me to my house. My poor, neglected, messy house. How I wish it looked more like this.

(Photo from www.pompy.com)

That said, I’ve decided on my 3 descriptors – are you ready?

Clean, Chic and Just Enough

Today starts a new day. Wanna join me?

(clickin?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ the logo may take you to more haikus)

Three times larger now

Than one year ago today

Hi, Alex Year Two!

(new header by Carrie Koehmstedt)?Ǭ†

You are all so wonderful to me. Everytime I read a new comment, I feel a little more supported and lifted up to face what has happened and what is to come.

Help me out today. Tell me stories – tell me daddy stories or stories about people you loved who died. Tell stories in the comments, blog your stories and leave me a link so I can find your story.

The best part of a funeral is always in the empty times when the family starts telling the stories. In?Ǭ† my case, I’m sure that as the flasks are tilted the stories will just get better and better.

Tell me a story, my friends. Please.

After a crap night of sleep, I rolled out of bed, with just enough time to get clothes on for yoga, dress the Kaiser and haul ass out the door. I was proud of myself for putting on pink yoga pants with a dark pink sweater and looking rather cute in spite of the no time to get ready. Nails bitten off (thanks to Project Clustertrauma (which I will get into a later date)). Hair in a ponytail. No makeup. Shoved some toothpaste in my mouth and we were off.

Met Scout for lunch at a Japanese place in a strip mall (hee! I said “strip”!) by our house. Innocuous looking hole in the wall.

We were seated by a group of four women who looked like they’d stepped out of a glossy advertisement for “Dress as a successful business person, and do it (hee! I said “do it”!) with style!”

All were dressed in black or gray with accents of color. All had good hair styled by products other than a pillow and a bad night of sleep. All wore business appropriate CFM* heels. Perfect (expensive) handbags held by hands with professional french manis, natch.

Ugh. For all my new found confidence, I finally had to admit that I felt envious. For a moment I wanted so much to have a reason to get dressed up in heels and a tailored outfit. I wanted perfect hair and nails.

And then I went back to cheering at Alex and being excited that he was reaching onto my plate for broccoli, onion, mushroom and red pepper. Cuz that’s what we do. Feel the twinge of envy, look at the greener grass on the other side and then look at the flowers in our lawn.

___

*CFM = Come Fuck Me

(ed. below is what i wrote 26 days ago while i was processing a choice i had to make. it was my own inner dialog with myself to just beat myself up a little more than i already was on an hourly basis. do i really think it’s weak? no. now that i’m healthier and have my head screwed on, i can see clearly that you do what you need to do get you through the day in a healthy way for you, i posted the dialog so if you have having it with yourself, you might recognize it. thanks to liv for calling me out on sounding like a sheer asshole because i didn’t explain any of that and jumped right in.)

I think popping pills is weak.

There. I said it.

I think there is nothing we can not heal in ourselves if we use diet, exercise and focus. (By “focus” I mean prayer, meditation, whatever works for the individual.)

Pills. Bah. Brain pills. Happy pills. Whaddevah.

Weakling.

Take a vitamin, eat some fruit, take a walk in the sunshine, get off your ass. It’s all in your head.

Pussy.

…

I don’t want to need them.

I hate being the person who needs them.

Aren’t I stronger than this? Can’t I overcome this mood?

(This mood that has held me for months.)

Sitting in the doctor’s office. Looking at the blank in the personal health history that says “mental illness” … not wanting that label to mean ME.

(Even though I know it does. The stigma stings. “Mental health disorder” “Psychiatric disorder” Whatever. I don’t want it.)

Grateful she didn’t ask the standard question, “Are you thinking of hurting yourself?” Because, oh MY God. WHO has the energy to devise a plan to do myself harm?

Hello sertr@line.

Hello constant thirst.

Here I am AGAIN.

Dammit.

…

I wrote this 26 pills ago. I’m glad I wrote it, because it was all true.

26 pills later, I don’t give a rats ass. I feel better. I am sleeping better, I organized my kitchen yesterday, I have managed more family turmoil in the past five days than I’ve ever had to before. Life is unbelievably hard right now and I truly believe that without these little pills that I would have broken this week. That I would be huddled under my bed with my blanket and pretending no one was home.

26 pills later there is sunshine.

Here’s where I tell you that if your life is gray and a little voice is whispering to you that it doesn’t have to be this hard – be good to yourself and take the steps to get some sunshine. Ree and Mr. Lady would agree.

There’s a photo that has shaken loose several things in my head.

Go look at the photo. Focus on the hawt redhead with the curly hair.

You should know that she comes from the family of hawtness. Whatever is in their water, I want some.

I looked at that picture and tried to picture myself rockin’ the curly red hair on an ordinary day, and I immediately thought, well no, that’s attention getting.

What?

Oh right, I focus on being invisible. On blending in. I don’t consciously focus on this, but it totally happens.

Oh look! A ponytail, no discernable hairstyle and all my makeup is under my eyes!

Oh look! Hair and face in it’s natural state! (Actually I took this for Whoorl, for Hair Thursday.)

Oh look! Ponytail AND glasses AND no makeup! But look at the cute kid! And believe me, people do.

Suddenly, I’m ripped out of invisibility by this kid. He attracts others to us whenever we are out.

So. Now I find myself in this invisible disguise, that isn’t working for me anymore. People see me, and what do they see.

(I really hope they don’t see the frumpy mom on the couch eating cookies and sharing them with the 8 month old. Sigh. But that’s a whole other post.)

This stuff all shook loose, and I started really looking at Mary Alice. I realized the invisibility cloak wasn’t cutting it anymore. That I’m older and better and wise and good enough and smart enough and people like me. I wanna be like her.

Or maybe, I wanna be just like me. ‘Cause this girl here? I like her, and this year, I’m planning to spend some more time with her.

This is my year to become uninvisible.