The Internet is like cough medicine for the mind

Sadly, I have gone from a happy gypsy...



To a sappy sobby mess in a matter of days.

My auditory hallucinations have pretty much subsided,thankfully. Those four or five days felt like a living Hell.

Thank God I have the beach beach and the peace it allows me to feel.

And thank God I have this place to spill all my ugly parts on and you people who listen.

Thank you.

Seriously. Thank you.

Auditory overload

Jury Duty was interesting, but I’m sworn to silence for ninety days, so I can’t really talk about that right now and in ninety days it’s going to seem irrelevant so I might as well just cross that off of my list of things I’m not going to talk about. I will say this: I was the only Juror that felt the way I felt about the case, the other eleven felt differently. It’s like we were on totally different cases. That’s all I can say about that right now.

My kid is STILL sick, but my mom’s biopsy on her bladder came back clean, so that’s good news.

And me?

I’m losing it, in a really bad way. I always lose it at this time of year. It’s not unusual for me to sit on the kitchen floor for hours refusing to talk or get dressed. It’s also not unusual for me to be quick tempered, disorganized, agitated and angry. It’s common at this time of year for me to not eat or shower.

Things are worse than normal right now. I feel like I’m going crazy. I feel like I am having a psychotic breakdown and I’m suffering from auditory overload. I can’t watch TV, because the only thing I can hear is my dog’s toenails tapping against the wooden floor and when she finally settles down the only thing I can hear is the clock ticking IN THE UPSATIRS BEDROOM! But, I can’t hear the TV that is right in front of me with the volume turned ALL THE WAY UP!!

The noises from the kitchen are driving me up the wall. The dishes clanking, the faucet leaking and the cupboards slamming is almost enough to 86-ka-do myself out of here.

Then there are the kid noises. I can handle the screaming and yelling, it’s the whispers and turning of pages that I can hear from THREE ROOMS AWAY that are driving me nuts. We’ve created a noise free zone for the kids to do their homework and I swear to God it’s quieter than a library, yet I can hear every blink and I’ve found myself screaming from the top of the stairs for them to BE QUIET!

I’ve tried earplugs and cotton balls, but I’m still stuck in some auditory hallucination type of Hell zone that’s reserved for baby killers and sexual deviants. And I’m not either of those.

I think I need to go to the doctor, but I know they’ll just prescribe some hard core drugs or lock me up against my will, like they’ve done before.

So, I’m waiting it out and hoping that this phase of crazy will pass sooner than later.

Sick House

My kids are pretty hardy, they usually only get the sniffles and the occasional stomach bug. They break bones more often than they get fevers. So when my youngest was hit with a fever today it literally knocked her out for hours!

Poor thing slept on the couch all day moaning 'why me?' like the universe hand picked her out of a crowd and sprinkled fever dust on her forehead.

The sad thing is that I start Jury duty tomorrow and can't be home to baby her.

Or take her to the doctor if she needs to go.

Or watch Little House On The Prairie with her while sucking on freezer pops.

And all she's worried about is missing school and not receiving the 100% attendance award this year. Sometimes I wonder if she was switched at birth.

Don't mess with me, I have a badge

I am doing my duty as a civilian and serving on a jury (I know, I can’t believe they picked me either). I spent the entire day yesterday being herded around like cattle as the lawyers and the judge decided on the ‘best’ panel. I sat in the courtroom playing a really important game of Scrabble on my phone when the judge called my number.

Juror number *1272, the judge called. I was way too busy playing scrabble to hear my number, so the judge called it again: Juror number 1272. I then looked around the courtroom wondering why the yahoo juror wasn’t getting up. Then the judge said: first name Mariah, with a tone that was less than pleased. Embarrassingly I stood to my feet with my phone in my hand and attempted to make my way to the jury cage, but my purse was stuck on my chair and I had to un-stick it first. After several long minutes I arrived on the jury panel as juror #14.

The judge and the lawyers from both sides asked me ridiculous questions.

Have you ever been arrested? Yes I replied honestly.

Do you know any local law enforcement officers? Yes.

Can you be unbiased and follow the law in this case? No I replied, I honestly don’t think that I can be unbiased (It was an honest answer).

Have you ever been a victim of a crime? Yes

Have you witnessed a crime? Yes

After 23 sidebars and several hours I was moved to juror number 10 and then to juror 3 and then to juror number 7. It was a ridiculous waste of time; the whole day was spent deciding on the jury.

We were all sworn in and told not to talk to the media, and then the judge said, no Twitter, Facebook or Blogging about the case, which totally cracked me up. I’m not talking about the case here; I’m just talking about the process, right? I’ll fill you all in with all the juicy details later.

Anyway, so now I am a very top secret juror in an attempted murder case, which pretty much blows because I have to follow the law and be unbiased and shit and I’m not really good at doing those things.

Plus I’m sworn to silence and I’m not really good at that either.

*My juror number isn’t really 1272, that’d be pretty silly of me to post my real juror number. I’m a tad smarter than that.

If I'm anything like my grandma I'll be locked up during menopause while I deal with raging hormones in a suicidal and homicidal fashion.

It happens every month.

First I crave tacos and eat four of them, letting the grease run down my chin and into my cleavage.

Then I crave chocolate and caramel. I can consume bags of Twix and Rolos like NOBODY’S business.

Then I cry and get all moody and reflective, sometimes I even meditate.

Then I doubt myself and wonder why I am even on this earth.

Then it happens.

And every month I’m surprised.

Reminders

I am constantly reminded of WHY I’m divorced. Of course I am divorced because my ex decided that his knuckles should and would rest comfortably against the ridge of my nose and that my every move and thought deserved his approval. Those things I know. Those memories I grasp with such determination. I am unwilling to let myself forget those pains that I endured; I embrace my physical scars and hold them with prestige because I was able to get out. They’re like my trophies, my victories for overcoming the idiocy of that time.

The things I DO forget are the pointed words that were constantly thrown in my direction. Yesterday my ex called me asking for some legal documents regarding our divorce. Of course I rushed out and scanned the needed documents and urgently tried to email them to him. He hounded me with text after text saying things that I am so accustomed to hearing from him. Words with such anger, hostility and violence; words that fly through the air with their own directional jet packs, destined to land atop my head and wreak havoc on my innards. Words intended to hurt.

I left that hurtful life almost ten years ago, yet here I am still fighting the demons of that time. I find it disgusting that I am still dealing with his misery; it's mind boggling how his words and actions can still find their intrusive way into my blood stream where they travel without direction depositing their ugliness in every twist and turn.

The WHY behind my divorce will never be forgotten, sometimes it rears its ugly head and I’m able to brush it off, other times it soaks into my flesh and leaves me physically drained and emotionally bloated. Recently I have found employment at a women’s shelter where I am able to counsel and encourage women that are dealing with the exact same situation that I was in almost ten years ago. These women are fragile; they’re afraid and leaning on my advice. I’m their advocate, their sounding board and their voice.

It’s mentally exhausting and a constant reminder as to why I am divorced, and who I used to be.

I may need bail money in about a week.

Halloween is pretty serious in these parts and it’s not just us, it’s the area we live in. Having lived here my entire life I know which streets to hit up on Halloween. I know where all the haunted houses are and let me tell you, living near Hollywood has its advantages when it comes to haunted houses. Some of these are professionally done and require an invite. I love haunted houses; I love being scared to the point of wetting myself. I love gore and fake blood and zombies.

I also love shaving cream fights and I take those pretty serious too. Yesterday I stocked up on shaving cream and spent hours burning the shaving cream tips closed and then re-piercing them with a sewing needle. It’s a pretty technical procedure and should not be attempted without the proper training. However, the burning and re-piercing of the shaving cream tips is necessary; it enhances the distance in which the shaving cream squirts. Trust me, I’m a professional.

My kids and I take great pride in our ‘stealthyness’ we practically melt into the bushes unnoticed and then we attack innocent trick-or-treaters with streams of shaving cream. Those attacked end up joining us and soon we have a gang of shaving cream covered hooligans and we take on the city. We’re pretty bad ass.

Last year I had a complaint filed against me from some of the neighboring moms. They're first on my list this year because I take my role as the neighborhood nuisance very seriously.