This Is Gonna Hurt Like Hell

"Hold On, Hold On To Yourself, For This Is Gonna Hurt Like Hell."

I'm sitting here with a lump in my throat. Tears are welling up in my eyes and it's a bit difficult to see the keyboard as I write. Should I just open the flood gate and let the tears come flowing out? The pain I am feeling for my friend is immense. The anger I feel about her situation is even more intense than the pain. What she has to do will be so hard. So many tears and so much heartache lies ahead for her. I hang up the phone with her. I have been successful in holding back my tears while we were on the phone. I can't do it anymore. My heart is breaking for her, and my tears fall freely now. All that keeps going through my mind is "Hold On, Hold On To Yourself, For This Is Gonna Hurt Like Hell."

I don't think she even knows how bad it's going to get. The gut wrenching pain, that doing the thing that has to be done, will cause her. She is so much more than my friend. She is my sister. We grew up together. We laughed. We cried. We were always honest with one another, when we needed to be. Yet, we knew when it was better to tell a little white lie, just to save the other from hurt feelings. I hate that I can't lie to her now. This is too big. When she asks for my opinion, I have told her the truth. She may agree or disagree, but it is the truth as I see it. I believe she too sees it as the truth, but cannot wholly embrace the truth, as it is too painful to believe. I have held in much of the anger and frustration I feel, because I understand why she can't see things as they are. She still loves him. She is caught in this middle place of indecision. She doesn't want to divorce him. She doesn't want to live with him. I am afraid for her now, as she is being forced into making a decision. Two choices, neither of which she wants to make. Neither of which will be easy.

I want to scream at him and beat on his chest. I want to yell at that Mother Fucker and tell him to go away, to let her be, let her heal. He refuses to be the man she married. He refuses to be what she needs him to be. He won't even "half-ass" it anymore, and be the husband he use to be. He refuses to be the kind of father she wants for her children. He won't make the decision to leave her, because he is too selfish. She doesn't want to make the decision to leave him, because she is too selfless. He has manipulated her for far too long.

In the end, she will make the decision that is best for her and the kids. She may not make that decision today, but eventually she will. She'll doubt herself at times, not sure if she did the right thing. When she does, I'll be right here, telling her to believe in herself and reassuring her that she has indeed made the right decision. I'll never lie to her, not about this. Not about him, and not about the pain that is to come. I will tell her, as Sarah McLachlan sings in her song titled Hold On, "Hold On, Hold On To Yourself, For This Is Gonna Hurt Like Hell."

To my friend - You know who you are. Please know that I love you and will never leave you. I'll always support and encourage you, no matter what decisions you make. I will look at things from your point of view, to the best of my ability. If I don't agree with you, I'll still love you and support you. You can tell me anything, and I won't judge you. I love you.

The music moved me...

So, I just recently started this whole "working out" thing. I have been on the treadmill almost every day for the last seven days. This is truly an amazing accomplishment for me! I don't think I have exercised (purposely) for more than two days in a row. Not in my entire life! The really crazy thing about this? The only reason I have finally been able to do it?

This is how it all went down:
I'm in a bad mood (I know, shocker right?). And It's not just a bad mood, it's like an angry and mad type of bad mood. I happen to be home alone on this particular evening, although I don't remember why. So, I'm pissed off, and not one damn family member is here for me to bitch at! It's not like I can even do anything productive in this state of mind! I am way too irritated to concentrate on important things, such as improving my latest bejeweled score, and way to pissy to be social and write "fun and flowery" quotes or comments on facebook. I decide to pick up the crap my kids have, once again, hauled down from the playroom into the kitchen. I head up to the playroom with an armload of toys when "What to my wondering eyes should appear, but a pile of dog shit and piss everywhere!" I dropped the toys on the couch and ran back downstairs, for fear of losing my supper. Ready to beat my two dogs senseless, (thank God they were outside and therefore could not be murdered in my heat of passion) I grab paper towels, rags, a trash bag and a bucket of bleach water. On my way back to the stairs, I see my ipod lying on the counter. I think to myself, "Hum, might as well listen to music while scrubbing the floor. Anything to make cleaning up dog shit a bit more pleasant." I grab the ipod, and along with all my other supplies, head back up to the playroom.

Finally, I am ready to commence scrubbing the floor with bleach water. I have picked up the poop and pee, and cannot wait to disinfect! (I know, how many time must I mention the dog shit in this blog?! I can't help it! I was freaking traumatized! I cannot stop myself). Anyway, this is when I put on my ipod. It's on shuffle, and the first few songs are okay. Ho hum, cleaning the floor, hate my life, gonna kill the dogs, what is taking Tom so long to get home, yadda, yadda, yadda...

Then I hear " Wake up in the morning feeling like P-Diddy"
I crank up the music...
"Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit the city"
take me, take me with you...
"Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack, cause when I leave for the night I ain't coming back."
Oh, I remember those days...

I feel my pace quicken. Scrubbing the floor faster, keeping beat with the music. Then I'm "dancing" with my hands. Making patterns on the floor as I see them in my head. I'm not even scrubbing the floor, not really... I mean, I am, but I'm not paying attention to what I'm doing. It's almost like I'm hypnotized. My sub-conscious is busy with the floors, but I am totally in another world. I'm on a dance floor. I'm young and thin. I'm back in college, the days when I could be as arrogant and care free as Ke$ha.

"Tik Tok on the clock, but the party don't stop."
I remember back in the day...

How I loved to dance! More than once, I was the first one out on the dance floor. If I was partial to the song, there was NO stopping me! I would beg my girlfriends to join me, but even if they resisted, I never cared about looking like a fool, I danced. I enjoyed the music, even when alone on the dance floor. So many friends (and boyfriends) of mine had to be fairly tipsy before they acquired the courage to come join me. Actually, I got hit on, many a time, by guys who started the conversation with "So, I noticed you out on the dance floor earlier"...

Suddenly, I am reminded of the freshman 15. Those infamous fifteen pounds (or more) college freshman girls are known to put on. Moms and Dads like to think it's because their little girls aren't eating the balanced meals they use to be provided at home. We all know, in truth, your precious baby girls are packing on the pounds drinking beer! Ha ha ha ha! So, why is it, I didn't gain the freshman 15?! Seriously?! Hello! I freaking danced my ass off. Literally. I danced and danced all night long! Every calorie of beer was balanced with LOTS of dancing!

Then it dawns on me. I didn't gain this weight because I got married, had kids and got comfortable with the life I live... I gained weight because I quit dancing and never replaced that Physical Activity with anything other than breast feeding for a few months, making meals and "running errands" in the car!

If music can make me forget I'm scrubbing floors...
If music can make me feel young and thin and alive again...
I wonder what would happen if I marched my happy, fat ass down to the treadmill and walked to the beat of the music?

So, I tried it. The result?! 6 of 7 days this week I was on the treadmill, and I'm loving life and feeling alive!

Never, ever under estimate the power of music to move your Fat Ass! :-)

A Letter to my Little Brother

Dear Jeremy,
It's your birthday today! Happy Happy Joy Joy! Since it's your birthday, your on my mind, so I've decided to write you a letter. Wow, where do I start? Okay, so I said Happy Birthday. What's next? I guess I'll just start typing what goes through my mind when I think of you. First and foremost the two things that come to mind are: #1 I'm so thankful to have you, and #2 Your sense of humor is amazing!

As I write this letter, I am truly thinking about how thankful and relieved I am, that you are here, alive and healthy. I think of Kim, who lost Kent in a car accident 18 years ago this month. It is only now, as we are both grown with children of our own, that I can even begin to understand what Kim has lost. All the good times and laughter, that could have been for her and Kent, is what you and I have now. I am so thankful for the fun and laughter you bring to my life!

Humor. This is one of my favorite aspects of your personality. You truly make me laugh until I cry. I love hanging out with you because you can turn anything into something hilarious. I could be totally pissed about something, and you make some smart ass comment about the situation that makes me laugh, and then I realize I'm being petty. Two of your recent quotes that make me laugh out loud:
#1 - Julie said "Jeremy you crack me up!" Jeremy said "Yeah, fat people are funnier."
#2 - Julie said "Oh my gosh, it's 11:00! I have to let you go, I HAVE to get in the shower and get ready before Noon, or else I feel like a total loser." Jeremy said "Yeah Julie, because getting showered and ready at 11:00 equals TOTAL WINNER right!?"

You have made some awesome decisions in your life. You have great friends, a wonderful wife, a beautiful baby girl, a good job doing what you enjoy, and a college education from Kansas State University. I'm proud of you little brother! Happy Birthday.
Love you,
Julie

We Women Need Our Girlfriends!

Love, Love, Love that I am a woman with girlfriends! Women have girlfriends for everything! We even tend to have groups, clubs, "clicks," of girlfriends for different things. For example... I have scrapbooking girlfriends, bunco girlfriends, work girlfriends and church girlfriends. I have girlfriends who inspire me lose weight and work out. I have Beta Sigma Phi girlfriends, Facebook girlfriends and Chingawassa girlfriends (ha ha, don't ask what Chingawassa is). I have girlfriends from high school, college and Alpha Xi Delta sorority. There are mothers of kids in my child's class girlfriends, family members who are also girlfriends, girlfriends of other girlfriends, more recent best friend girlfriends and of course the "Old School" Best Friends Forever girlfriends.

Many of these girlfriends overlap into more than one group, or "click" of friends. Some of my girlfriends I only know, and associate with, one certain area of my life. I have noticed that girlfriends weave in and out of my life. As I need them, as they need me, we grow closer at times and further apart at other times.

With these girlfriends, I have had really good, thoughtful and meaningful conversations. On occasion there have been tears. Sometimes I am the listener, sometimes I am the speaker.

With these girlfriends, I have also laughed so hard I peed my pants. You know the kind of laughter I'm talking about right? I'm talking about the laughter, where you literally fold over and grab your stomach, fall out of your chair, pull over if your driving, can't even breathe and tears are pouring out of your eyeballs kind of laughter. I'm talking about laughing so hard you can't control yourself. You snort or fart or emit some other vile, manly sound from your body. Your friend hears this, so the laughing is even harder, and your stomach hurts and you just want to stop and breathe, but you can't, because it's just so flipping funny!

My girlfriend Suzanne, ("Old School" Best Friend Forever girlfriend) called me this morning for our morning chat. She calls just about every morning between 8:30 and 9:00. Sometimes a bit earlier, sometimes a bit later, but always in the morning. We both grab a cup of coffee and a cigarette and we talk. Depending on the day (chaos, kids, husbands, work) we talk for 5 minutes up to even 30 or 40 minutes. She is almost always the one who calls me, and I love her for that. This mornings chat was usual. Nothing significant or out of the ordinary. Just a quick chat with a long time friend. It's a great way to start the day.

After we hang up the phone, I'm going about getting ready for my day. I get on the scale and see I have lost 3 pounds total this week! I'm thrilled! My first thought is "I can't wait to go email blank and blank (my two "Weight Loss" girlfriends) and blank (my "Work Out" girlfriend) to share with them my success!" As I'm skipping to my laptop, ready to email these girlfriends my dieting progress, it occurs to me how lucky I am to have so many girlfriends, involved in different areas of my life.

We women, complex and emotional beings that we are, need many girlfriends for the different aspects of our lives. Every woman has traits, qualities, life experiences, that no one else has. In order to achieve the most inspiration, to be the most well-rounded, successful and happy that we can possibly be... We women need our girlfriends.

What IS it with these men?! I mean Seriously?!

So, I did have a completely different topic in mind for this mornings blog. But... as fate would have it, I am currently a bit miffed at my husband, and therefore have decided to blog about men and their shortcomings!

Don't get me wrong, I am not "anti-men". I love men. I love my man. I think it's wonderful men can do stuff we women can't, or don't want, to do. I'm even of the "conservative" belief that both, men and women benefit from the institution of marriage. I know, crazy talk. Right?! I was born in the Midwest, raised in the Midwest, and currently reside in the Midwest. So, forgive me for believing marriage is preferable to "shacking up", and that divorce should be avoided if at all possible (yes, I agree in cases such as alcoholism, abuse, things of that nature, divorce is usually unavoidable... I'm not an idiot. I'm just from the Midwest). Oh, and to answer your question? Yes, I have been on an airplane, and yes, we do have indoor plumbing!

Okay, with the above mentioned statements being said, (hopefully to have gained your trust in my normalcy, and protected myself from being viewed as a male bashing feminist) I feel I can continue on with my thoughts on men...

What is it with these men?! I mean seriously!? They claim not to understand us women. Hello! We are the ones with the communication skills. We are the ones who are doing the talking. We are the ones begging to spend more time with them. We are the ones sharing our thoughts and feelings with them. What in the hell do they NOT understand about us?! Oh yeah, I forgot... they can't hear what we are saying if they don't listen! Holy Hairy Jumping Shit balls! What a novel idea. They could LISTEN to us! Actually, you know what? I am hoping and praying that it is just them not listening that's the problem. God forbid my man listens to me, but chooses instead to just ignore what hears! The fury, out of my body, that this realization would release upon him, would make even Lorainea Bobbitt cringe! (a bit of an exaggeration, but you get my point).

So, this is what happened this morning to get me all "riled up" with Tom. Oh, and remember, I'm not even super pissed at him. Only miffed. Like, he doesn't even know he upset me. If I learned anything in 7.5 years of marriage, it's when to throw a "bitch fit" and when to just let it go. Anyway, the first conversation started last night on the way to our daughters basketball game, he asked "So, what did you do today, did you have a good day?" I thought it was nice of him to ask (as the prior 30 minutes of conversation was spent talking about his day at work... it had been a tough day for him) so I listed what I had accomplished during the day and mentioned, very apprehensively, I had started a blog. He made a face. The look was part surprise, part disbelief, but mostly is was the look of "What are you writing on that blog? Will our friends and family see the blog, and more importantly, why the hell would you waste time writing on a blog when I'm busting my ass at work to make a living." He does have a point. I must admit, the laundry desperately needs to be done. I'm thinking he may currently be wearing his last pair of clean undies. Also, there are about five rooms in my house right now that need to be cleaned. Oops! What he actually says is "Oh, a blog, huh, so, what did you start a blog for?" I quickly responded "Well, I really like to write and all, so I thought maybe "blogging" would be a good place to start. It's nothing major, just my random thoughts and stuff like that. It was just like a page or so in length... if even that long." I added, "I'll email you the link, so you can read it." He said "Yeah, okay, that would be good." Then the subject was dropped. We head down the road to the game, our team wins, and all is fine for the rest of the evening. Great.

This morning, my husband is standing near me in the kitchen. He has just said "Oh good, I hear the washing machine running! Today will be a cleaning day." I said "Yeah, this morning my plan is to flip loads of laundry, while writing my blog." He responds, "Okay, I'm just waiting on Sarah to get dressed and then we are heading to the car wash. I have to get both trucks cleaned inside and out today. I absolutely can't stand it anymore. I just have to get this done right now." He said this like someone was going to try and stop him from getting the trucks cleaned. Like I give a shit if he cleans the trucks now or later? Seriously?! I say "Great honey, sounds like a plan. Hey, do you wanna read that blog I wrote yesterday while your waiting for Sarah?" This is when he walks over and stands near me (and my laptop) in the kitchen. So I pull up "Blogger" and he's just standing there. He is not really close enough to actually read anything on my laptop. He doesn't seem interested? So, I start to read it to him. As I am reading, he takes a few steps over to the counter and begins looking through the mail. At this point I stop and say "Never mind, you're busy, you can read it later." he says "No, I'm listening, go ahead." I continue where I left off, as he continues going through the mail. Then, as I am mid-sentence, he hollers to the other room, "Sarah, hurry up, we got to get going." Seriously, I was mid-sentence and only about half of the way done reading the blog! She comes in the kitchen and states that she cannot find her tights. Tom tells her to just put on a pair of jeans. Sarah has no clean jeans. They are in the washer. Damn! I get up to help her find something to wear, and I notice Tom is reading over my business paperwork that was lying with the mail. He was so totally NOT listening to what I was reading! I put a clean skirt and tall warm boots on her. At this point, Tom is now standing at the door to the garage with his hand on the doorknob, waiting for us to be done so he and Sarah can leave. I grab a jacket, and put it on her as he is opening the door to walk out. At this point I am miffed. I say to him "Maybe someday, when I become a published author, you'll decide to read my shit." He said, "I'll read it later, I just got to get going right now."

Maybe I'm over reacting. Maybe not. All I want is for him to listen to me. Participate in my life. Am I really asking for too much? Wouldn't one be apt to believe that a spouse, out of love and respect, would have an interest in the things that matter most to their partner. I felt like he didn't even care. Like taking 5 minutes out of his life to hear what I wrote was really just too much for him to give me.

I love my husband. He says he loves me as well, and I believe him. So, what is it with these men!? I mean seriously!?

A new year, a new start, a journey to the middle place

Some of us really do have a perfection problem. In interviews, I have been asked to give the interviewer "Something about myself that I'd like to work on". Seriously!? Like I am going to tell them "Well, I find it difficult to get any place on time. I usually get projects, assignments and required tasks completed about 16 or 17 seconds before they are due. The details of any project seem to really freak me out, as I quite often have no idea where to start. I have a hard time completing many of the things I start. Oh, and this suit I'm wearing today, it's rented. Yeah, I just didn't want to buy a suit, you know, because I still want to lose a few pounds and all." So, to be honest, and yet still hold a chance of getting the job, instead I tell the interviewer, "Well, I think I may be somewhat of a perfectionist." The interviewer may then ask for an explanation or example. (Damn!) "Okay, uh, I have, you know, in the past, at one time or another, had to tell myself "Julie, just get this report done, it's okay if there are no charts and graphs attached, Bob didn't ask for charts and graphs. Bob just asked for the report."

Some people may view perfectionism as a good trait to have. In my opinion, it is crippling.

For 34 years I have struggled with wanting to be perfect, wanting to do everything perfect. What happens if it's not perfect? I feel guilty and like I failed. What if the task seems to daunting, to difficult to be done perfectly? The task is not started or not completed, and again I feel guilty. If I cannot be perfect, or I cannot do it perfectly, then I give up. It is so extreme. So black and white. So right or wrong. In my mind, if it isn't perfect then it's a failure. This way of thinking is so much a part of me, that I have a hard time changing it. Many times, especially in the "heat of the moment" when a decision is being made, I don't even recognize that I'm doing it. Even now, as I write my first blog, I'm thinking to myself "Okay, is it normal to be taking this long to write a freaking blog, or am I just trying to write it perfectly?" I know I could accomplish so much more if I just did it, rather than doing it over and over again, trying to make it perfect.

What is perfect anyway? I may see something done by another person as done perfectly, yet it is just "thrown together" by them. Maybe "thrown together" can be perfect too?

I want to lose weight, eat healthier, exercise regularly, maintain an organized home, scrapbook, sew, quilt, paint on canvas, decorate my house, buy curtains, blog and write a book. None of these things have been accomplished in the past. They have been started, or attempted, but never completed. I always gave up because I didn't think I was doing it perfect.

So, at the age of 34, in January of 2010, I start my journey towards a middle place. I must strive to think in the middle, to think in the gray areas instead of the black and white. I won't be able to do all the things I want in my life, and do them all perfectly. That will have to be okay with me. This is a new year and a new start for me. I am determined to do something. To complete something. To accomplish something. Even if the road is bumpy and imperfect, and it leads to a place of imperfect results, at least I will have traveled the road and seen the results. That has to be better than standing still.