[Poem] E. Bass (Oct. 2012)

I surrender to myself:

Temptation.
Deception.
Lies.

The filth that comes out of my mouth,
the lies!

I fail for all the times I should of, could have said, "No!"


I failed at life again.

Its temptations a life's lesson for me; self taught.

But I revel in now!

I try to say no more...

but how is it that I still go?

The heart of the beast, it yells for more!


...it asks for the tenderness of your kiss, the song on your lips 

& the strum of your instrument. 

Had I locked the door, 

so long ago, 

it would never be. 

Hadn't I locked the door, 

Who'd I'd be?

Thoughts on marriage

I am mostly in my mind. Trying to hide? 

I pray every morning for patience, the sun lights up my face and assures me it's all well. 

But deep inside, I want something else. Selfish me. Not finished with A and wanting to run all the way to the end. But these almost 8 months have taught me that I don't have to wait for time. Time is now. It is never too late to be better. 

I said something honest last night that I've been holding on to for months. I am not happy. The indifference and deflection are usual. But I won't take that, we are all responsible for our own words and actions. One cannot lead to the other without some type of reflection. 

I want to be treated with kindness. Not told to do things. I typically just do whatever is asked. The less I talk, the faster you move on. But last night, I had to say it. Acting happy vs. actually being happy are not the same. In a marriage both adults have to work towards bettering themselves and thus hopefully the marriage. 

Working through things is not my forte, but I am taking back my voice. It's not nagging, or being in trouble, it's about respect. It's about how to show affection and admiration. There isn't time to waste staying in old habits. It is time to act and behave with haste and compassion. React. Listen and show you care. 

This world is so vast, and to tell you that the monetary working that make this world run aren't for me is so cliché, but man, do I want to run in fields of flowers and grass. I want to be alone with the trees. I want to bathe in the lakes. 

Riches and bitches come and go, make room for self love and mental clarity. 

Have a wonderful day, 

Kathy 

Make it, Print it, Let it Roll [Poem]

Make it,

print it,

let it roll,

just like it's backed up by gold.


Easily able to see it be spent,

exchanged for goods and other shit.


To begin the news with, "Have you seen todays 401K losses?"

The fakery of the currency

we currently hold.

Paper, makes its worth?

Is this understandable?

It’s ‘cus we’re told.



Money can get your everything,

like

hatred, death, and many unloved hearts

also,

things,

that are cute with pink and blue hearts.


I guess I never got it.


Money, dirty & smelly.

Money, can't do nothing without it.

Money,

Money,

Money...it's a drag.

 

Ghetto wishes & cosmic dust [poem]

 

How can we thrive in the destruction of the chaos?

We become exposed; explode.

 Innocence taken away,

turned to anguish bursting to expose!

Expose the hate felt deep inside for the loss of a loved one for something they can’t control.

Lucky the ones that turn that pain into forgiveness and a passion for change.

 

If we could go back to the time of zero.

And Love each other for what makes us, us.

Devine beings.

Cosmic Dust. 

Asking my mother to call me

I sent my mother a text this morning. I told her to call ME when she's ready to speak to me. My father, who didn't reach out for my birthday, sent me a text. He said to give her time to process. 

I could of gone and text him a paragraph explaining myself. Something I would have done before. Instead, I thanked him. He did something that was probably not easy for him. But through the text I sensed compassion, not finger pointing. 

He put the onus on her to reflect. 

I don't want to push her into doing something she's not ready to. She has to search her consciousness to face moments she may not want to recall. Suppressed memories she thought were done. But I can't just pretend like I'm fine. PMDD & depression are a part of me. I valuable part of me, that I can't compromise to make others feel better. I can't just pretend like my life is fine when two out of four weeks I feel depressed. When the one week I go out I try to do it all before it comes back. 

One day my mother was telling me that the duty of a daughter was to take "good" care of their mother. That took me by surprise. I couldn't say anything to that. Good or bad, I just stood there, thinking about times I felt unloved and how I could no longer just pretend. I love her, you see, but I don't love her for who she is supposed to be. The motherly part is covered up with memories, thing she never owned up to and I had to suck up and move on from.  Of course I'll always be there for my parents, but the way she expects things makes me cringe. That's how I know I need to speak my truth. I can't just pretend and act, it's too much work. 

Just thoughts, 

Have a great day, 

kathy 

Some days I don't want to live

Today was not easy. I had major downs. 

My thoughts kept going back to the argument with my mom. By loosing my mom, I loose my dad. Love shouldn't be based on condition. It should not be one sided. Empathy is lacking in his heart, too. Loyalty is probably something important to him, loyalty to her. He would always say, "You know how she is." He'd then make me feel like I should apologize, or suck it up. 

I couldn't even tell her the entire truth. That I have thoughts of wanting to die. I have a hard time coping with life, it's like I never learned. As I type I go back to a childhood memory, I remember being in my babysitters house.  A roach crawling in front of me, and not being able to move. Not wanting to make a sound. Just looking at it crawl by. I hate roaches, but as a child, in that room, in my empty heart, I could never do anything right. 

As an adult, simple shit can feel so fucking hard. Feelings are the worst to dig through. I either don't want to take the time to feel or feel angry when I am stuck in PMDD, or in tough days like today. Those moments break me, make me went to disappear. Regret I brought my children into this world to learn from a broken heart. 

I had constant thoughts of wanting to die, today. It was debilitating. I thought of my family. The thought of them growing up without a mom was front and center. I can't leave them. The thoughts do go away, but I can't let go sometimes. I hold on to the sadness, to the ruminating thoughts of wanting to die; to stop feeling. 

I went to the bedroom and lay in darkness for a few minutes. Tears rolling down my eyes. My husband coming in to check to see how I was doing. I googled what I was feeling, word for word, and found people who have gone through similar feelings. Who learned things through their journey, and share it to give other's the opportunity to see they are not alone. 

I learned that these sad, difficult feelings do lessen. When I say them aloud, when I share my thoughts with my husband, it lessens my burden. Otherwise it's like a guilt thing that I carry in my brain, & it won't shut up. I can't give it power. I accept the thoughts are there, that they will come back, but they don't have power over me, and I  don't truly want to die. 

I need ways to cope with my feelings. I always thought it was just anger. But it's so much deeper than that. By coping with why I lost my mom and my dad, I realized I need ways to deal with the tough emotions life brings up. Dying is not the answer. 

Love, 

Kathy

Calling a therapist after speaking to a loved one

So after all that, I could not feel better.

I text my cousin and my husband. 

My husband called back first, he made sense. Can't change her, he says, "She's old school."

He's a sweet man. 

My cousin also called me but he was on his way to work. 

It is hard to find people that can be there for you when you feel sad and alone. 

I decided to call the behavioral health hotline to speak to a professional about what happened. 

She told me my mother was perhaps not someone I should speak to because it doesn't help my mental health. 

Her saying that made me feel better. I felt sad. But she heard me and said my mom made it about herself instead of listening to me. It helps so much to speak to someone, just to get it out. People in our lives are super busy. Can't hold that against anyone. So I had to use my resources. I had to speak to a professional. She encouraged me to write. 

Please ask for help, professionals are there for us.

Happy Birthday to me

My birthday today. 

My mom reached out. 

At the end, 

She made me feel bad. 

She told me hurtful things. 

Brought God into it. 

But I have the power to speak my truth. To Be kind. 

I am not here to hurt, I want to heal this fucking world. 

I've cried at church, asking God why I wasn't loved by my mother as a teen. 

I've cried in my car as an adult. 

I cry in my living room, today, on my birthday (as an older adult :/)

She never heard ME. She always had a knack for taking my feelings and invalidating them.  Making it about herself, closing the door, and leaving me, a mess. A child. 

I feel guilty for all my learned behavior.

I have memories of her being hurtful with her words. Me asking simple things and getting rude answers, making me feel like I was not important. 

Even now I question things. Did I do something wrong? 

I told her about therapy and my doctors. She said my childhood was good and there was no abuse, so she didn't know what I was talking about. 

I told her it started as a child, that it was difficult because we didn't have a relationship. The way she spoke to me as a kid was rude, she made fun of me in cruel ways to make my feelings invalid. When I would try to speak up, shed mock me, and in a taunting voice say, "What does the little girl have to say now?"

How can I take that?

I couldn't call her. Tried to for two months.  

Today, she said I got what I wanted, I made her cry. That was her reaction to my texts. I know things can be taken out of context. I swear, I was kind. I know it's hard to deal with raw emotions, but her way of crying, getting sick, not picking up, getting my dad on her side, is textbook her. 

 I have to tell myself, "You knew how'd shed react. Enough, Live your Life!" 

Perhaps it's liberating. 

I am healing something, torn. 

Like the tape on old library books. It has to be the thick clear one, or it wont work, no scotch tape on this book. I started healing one side with therapy, and medicine. Today, I taped the other side. Have to tape both sides of the page, or else, wtf are we doing? 

Can't risk two pages getting stuck together and ruining the rest of the story. 

Love always, 

Kathy 

Self Worth and relationships

It took me some time to find a new layout for the blog. I went through three or four layouts until I found one I liked. It was getting late, but I had two red bulls and was ready to be creative. 

When I finished, I showed my husband. He was busy. He looked at it and didn't say a word, made a face and that was it. No words, no encouragement. 

I went to the restroom, brushed my teeth and wiped my face with a baby wipe. I looked at myself in the mirror and spoke truth to me. 

I told myself I am doing the right things by working on myself. Going to therapy, breathing and writing. But above all, I am the creator of my reality. I should of seen that he was busy. He wouldn't have the right state of mind to give me his time, not matter how small. Instead of setting someone up to fail, and feeling the sadness of reality, I should seek my own approval. I am my own cheerleader.

On Monday, I went to therapy. We spoke about my childhood and my husband's. The almost 100% difference between our upbringing. It was a real eye opener for me. When I tried to share what I learned with my husband, he made a joke and said, probably honestly, "I know nothing about your childhood."

That hurt me, 'cus I've shared many stories. 

He's a nice man. A good father. But a poor communicator. 

I am thankful I can see things. My anger, sadness and frustration wouldn't allow me to go beyond the pain of his lack of communication. Beyond just thinking he didn't care enough. He cares but can't multitask. Can't form the right words. Maybe he'll work on it. Maybe he won't. But, I found my answer: to keep doing what I am doing. Keep hustling and become the best version of myself. 

Toilet Training With PMDD - Update

We have arrived to a point where I no longer need to bribe her with candy. 

I now bribe exclusively with technology. 

But Jazzy is also learning some things on her own. 

She knows she can rely on her family to hold her hand through new and difficult situations. 

She was terrified of going number 2, even though she had before. When she felt like she needed to, she would stop herself. When we put diapers on, she did not want to poop in them. She tried to go potty, but it scared her. She felt like she was pooping into a void, she lost the reassurance of a secure bottom. Where the heck is my poop going? She must of wondered.

At first, she did not like for us to be near her for her to pee. Now, she wants us close by since she is worried about the experience. She holds on to my hand and tries her best. 

Sometimes I am not in the mood for it. But It's such an important milestone. I take the ego the heck out of it, and sit with her and hold her hand. 

If you find your child is having a tough time pooping, I suggest offering extra liquids. I offer water and juice. Also a diet with fiber helps the stool stay smooth and easy to pass. If it's hard, it hurts, just like it would you and me. I made her my famous veggie soup and her stool looked nice and smooth. 

She also made up a term for going number one and number two she'll ask, "Can I mix it up?" 

It's too cute to me. Of course!  Jazzy also loves to flush the toilet and wash her hands when she finishes. She's a doll. 

Her seven year old brother, Noah, proudly sits next to her and offers to hold the technology for her when she is going potty. It is awesome, because he is learning how to be a supportive brother, as well as growing his patience with her. 

As far as me and PMDD...

I finally let things roll on their own. No pressure for her to go. I just ask for her to try. No frustration when you can't. I did have one day, when she had an accident on the high chair. I reflected and thought about what I wanted in life for the kids. How I want to react. I want their happiness and freedom. Once they go out into the real world they won't have that. In this space they are safe. And mfn potty trained. 

Have a safe and wonderful day, 

Kathy 

Listening to myself talk about being a teacher

Does anyone have a tough time listening back to themselves? I do. I cringe. I can be a sarcastic, bitchy person, with a no fucks given attitude. I love and hate that about me. 

So I listened to my rant (RANT) about a situation between myself and a parent, back in like 2010. I was a brand new teacher at the school, and I guess the kid didn't like how I taught. I loved teaching. Me as a teacher was so much more pleasant than me as a regular person. So I was surprised in the mother's tone of voice. I will say I was a strict teacher. That may have played a part in it. Some children are not ready to hit the ground running on day one. They want their home, their families and find it difficult to adjust to rules and schedules. At some point all of that becomes routine, but for some it's not as easy. 

As the mother is telling me that, she also tells me she never wanted her child in my class. Kinda personal! She didn't know me, and I did great during my interview by the way! She proceeds to tell me she requested the other teacher, Mrs. D, instead, and was VERY upset her request was ignored. 

The teacher was out on maternity leave, so WTF did it matter, anyway? 

At this point my face surely shows how annoyed I am by her, I most likely looked her dead in the eyes and said, "Mrs. D was the one that put your child in my class!"

(Gasp) 

(Burrrrn)

It was the truth, honest, I had no connection to any of these people, it was just a roster full of names. Mrs. D  told me she didn't want the student or her mom in the class. Power trip? I looked at Mrs. D dead in the eyes and said. "Do it." 

...

But, back to the mom, I was not justified in speaking to the mother in such a tone. I should of sucked it up and told her I would work with her child, and keep her informed. I should have thanked her for her time. She should not have spoken to me that way, but had I showed her some professionalism & grace I would have taught her how to deal with tough situations without the need to retaliate. 

Reflection is good. Having children of my own & having fought my own battles for my children, I understand us more. Me as a childish, know it all, and her as a mom, challenging another person to listen to her and make right by the promise to reach her child and educate her.

Years later, I can respect that.

But how did it really end???

The mother spoke to the principal. She told her I was rude, and some other stuff. It really pays off for teachers to be friendly outside and to all students. Period. Principals understand parent's and their ways of dealing with frustrations. I think especially with a new teacher. Principals have seen way more drama! She took me into her office and we talked about the situation. The principal decided it was best to switch classes, so I got a new student. That principal was an interim principal, thank goodness, but she was kind and understanding. She knew my professional and classroom teacher side enough to know I was a hard worker and mostly nice. 

I also think the mom was overly bothered by the entire thing. No concrete reasons to be such a hater. Whatevs. We all won. 

-W/love, 

Kathy

Can my PMDD deal with Potty Training? (Again)

My three year old went number one and number two in her potty, by herself!!!

We are so proud of her. 

But, honestly, I'm so proud of me. 

When my son was her age, I was struggling with depression and anger. The thoughts of dealing with a child and potty training seemed like the biggest, dumbest, most complicated chore. I hated it. 

I remember yelling. Yes, yelling at a child to learn to shit in a foreign object. PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder) does not allow you to see beyond the hurdle. It keeps you stuck in the toughness of the situation without words of kindness or looks of love. It was something my son could not do. Of course he could. But at the moment, in those days, hours, weeks and months, it felt like something he could not comprehend. My little guy. Always so smart. I wish I could go back to those days. See myself and have compassion for us both. To hold you both and weep for whom you all used to be. Forever changed, impacted by my actions. But with so much love to overlook the sadness and the past. We can all go back to a moment of sheer shit. And hopefully look at oneself now and see the growth. 

With the grace of knowing it is never too late to ask for help. Any type of help. 

So, it was a rough experience for both of us. 

I dreaded a similar experience with my daughter. 

The biggest change I made was asking for help. I did not want to start this journey alone. I am a busy mom, and I have routines. I have to take away the pressure to fulfill a schedule and tend to her first. My husband helps when he is home, encouraging her to potty, and sitting with her when she needs us. 

Or looking away when she doesn't.

At first she would cry, and scream. The battle was just getting her to want to sit on a toilet. We bought her a Minnie Mouse Potty, and she loved it, but not enough to sit on it. So we would give her small toys, books or technology (our word for tablets, or phones). We also bribed her with her favorite gummies. She saw us buy them at the market. We got home and she wanted gummies, we told her she'd only get gummies if she sat on the potty and tried to use it. It worked!

After trying for a month, she began to tell us when her tummy "hurt," meaning she was ready to poop. 

This time, medication, counseling, and freaking breathing helped tremendously. My husband helped more than before. He encouraged her to try, and she was happy to try. I never raised my voice. I was not unkind. We all told her she could, as a family unit, and she did. 

Proud AF, 

Kathy