Just sitting here with my cat.

I’d take a pic of my baby boy, but phone’s in the other room and I ain’t walking that far. Not like I live in a mansion and our room is in the west wing, but I’m fucking lazy like that. I walk close to 30k steps every fucking day. I love it. I gotta move. But — BUT — when I’m tired, I just want to sit in the quiet with my ice cream and my double down, and refuckinglax.

I have a dead lady on my laptop. I Haven’t moved it becaust lady bugs are lucky to me, and if I throw his out side, perhaps my luck will get chucked too. So, he stays. Along with the wall hanging my sister made me 30 years ago that used to say God Bless Our Home. It now says Our Bless Home. It stays. DON’t fucking touch it. God already fell off and we couldn’t find it. That’s when I should have just known shit was never gonna be easy.

SPeaking of God. I am speaking to God again. For those that care. Like i said, I am getting rid of the baggage I have carried around for so long. That means forgiving God as well because deep down I know , or at least I believe, that God does not steer our vessels. Sometimes I feel he intervenes if the results won’t have an impact on more important things later. Things that need to happen for some reason or another. But I also believe that miracles are real. Perhaps whatever had to happen wasn’t in the cards, maybe God steps in to make sure it gets done. Like maybe the fact that there should have been AT LEAST 50,000 deaths had the Towers been full. Or had it happened an hour or two later. Any lost life is tragic, but to think about what could have been happened – maybe should have happened – but didn’t for some reason. Maybe God was that reason. I don’t know. I know that there have been instances where I know Someone has had a hand in my life. I also know — no, I am told and am trying to believe that God was even there on the days He could do nothing at all. It’s the hand tied thing that bothers me. Sometimes. I try to bigger picture it. It’s hard when you talk about my son specifically. There is nothing but what I have here and now. I could give two shits about the bigger picture where he’s concerned. But that’s just me. I’m a hateful bitch .

Maybe God isn’t supposed to intervene. Nah, I don’t buy that. Who would God answer to? His mom? He’s God. So maybe it’s not all free will. Maybe there’s some destiny in there. Some path. Some laid out plan that we should adhere to in order to have a full life and to perpetuate the planet in some way. And we just go off willy nilly and do what ever the fuck we want. We’re like the wild ants a dad uses in the ant farm and then watched in horror as they battled and destroyed each other through the glass. God is watching in horror through the glass. Maybe saving what He can.

I should be in bed. Yeah, I should. I’m jawjawing about nothing anyhow.

Shower was as I hoped it would be. Thank God.

I have some pictures. I got my elephant, and we got his trunk in the air. This fucking shit isn’t letting me upload my pictures. I’ll try again later.

I swear to Jesus that I hear myself saying shit or see myself doing shit that is very unlike me. I’ve begun shedding everything that drags me down. Life drags us down enough without extra bullshit baggage on top of it. Friends that don’t realize their buttons dial out too, but get pissed at you when it’s been months since you spoke. And then after 25+ years of friendship, they erase themselves from your life because they’re not strong enough to handle your son’s declining health. Fuck that. I’d rather sit here alone.

I stopped watching TV and Movies a long time ago because I can make MY life just as exciting as that shit. I don’t need to worry about pretend people – because I will. Worry. I’ll fret over some make believe garbage because that’s just the idiot I am. So, I don’t watch anymore. Nothing. If I’m really really bored, I will watch some TV with Jason. But that happens maybe once every so many months. And it’s usually some news or Naked and Afraid or Deadliest Catch or maybe that one where they run across the obstacles? I laugh my fucking ass off at that one, but I can’t work the tv/cable when I’m alone, so I can’t watch shit anyway.

Wait, I lie. I do watch football now though. Not every game, but ones that interest me. Very exciting and a no fucking brainer. You do not need to think when you watch football. I love that. THAT’S what I have surrounded myself with. Things I don’t have to worry about. And it feels amazing, I must admit.

I also can’t sit still long enough to watch anything, so there’s that. They [docs] think it’s tremors caused by a medication I take. My doc think it’s just adhd. I pace because it’s so bad. I fucking vibrate on the inside. Pacing or hard work helps get rid of the constant need to move. If I sit too long, I swear the vibration will reach allllllllllmost the level of pain. It’s like being so uncomfortable that it hurts. It’s all I can think about when I sit. Work is great because I can move. That’s all I do. Home? Egads. My husband would never leave the couch if there was a shawshank redemption channel. TV on 24/7 when I am not around. No thanks.

Besides, we only get so many life minutes on this Earth, and no one but God knows how many you have left. When I told that my son had Duchenne 10 years ago, something changed. Clicked. Turned on. Maybe something was turned off? Who knows. But I’m not the same. I’m older, and I hope to God I’m wiser. But I’m also kinder. I do not say anything that might make a person feel anxiety or shame or guilt or embarrassment or anger or anything negative. I will not be somebody’s breaking point. It doesn’t matter what you have to say to a person – did you get that part? It Doesn’t Matter What You Have to Say — it can done two ways. You can tear somebody down, or help build them up. Shitty worker? Find a good quality and shine on it a time or two, and let them know you noticed their hard work. They’ll start to do more to get more praise. You can easily turn someone into a good employee – but only if they see themselves as the change makers. Or, you can tell them gently that you noticed they were having trouble getting the baseboards clean, did you want some help next time so I can show you how I do it?

It’s not that hard. It works every time I’ve done it. And I was a manager for ten years. Or, I could reprimand them and basically tell them they suck at cleaning and see how much that improves their work. Ten fold, I bet.

Where the fuck was I? Oh yeah. So be nice. You do not know what kind of shit sandwich life is trying to shove down the throat of the person standing next to you. Might be nastier than yours.

I tell people I love them. We hug good bye every time. No one ever knows for sure how long they have on this planet. Jason and I are getting older. We’re now in that bracket where no one even raises an eyebrow if you were to stroke out of this life. Yep, totally within reason given their age. That’s fucking scary. Sort of. I can start to see how you might be ready to exit stage left after spending 100 or so years here on Earth. You get tired. And I’m tired of being tired. And I ain’t talking about being sleepy. I’m heavy, and I know why, but knowing that I’m just depressed about Ian solves nothing. He’s still sick. It will never be as good as it is today, because he gets worse every day. How’s that for ya? Every fucking day from here on out will be shit because you will spend it weeping for your son. One way or the other.

Eat that sammich.

Geebus. Settle down.

Damn, it’s 2am. I have dirt streaks on my arms and dirt in my hair. Think Jason would be pissed if I just laid down? We’re about to find out. ..

I think I’m done messing with it ….


It ain’t all that, and I’m not altogether sure where I’m going with it or who will know about it and if I’m going to censor my mouth.

But there it is. Will this site die? I don’t know. It’s been dying for years. I love it here and i hope to find a balance soon where I can write again. I miss it. ANd I hope that moodygigi is a release for those emotions and feelings associated with the baby and family in general. I want this blog to be me. I hope I can have my cake and eat it too.


Depression .

Not being able to call the fucking doctor that can help you because you need fucking help to call the doctor. I have the number … now to find it in me to call. I have to switch docs again because I just can’t hack the receptionist anymore. I know that sounds childish, but she’s a hag. A bitch. A loud bitch who refuses to hear me out and just wants to tell me what she doesn’t really know. The doc wasn’t all that anyway. Rip all my meds from me and jack up my lithium – to 1.9 – yeah. For those that know lithium levels – that’s a might bit high. I usually hang around .7 = .6 to 1.2 is the acceptable range. Too high can kill your ass. Idiots. So , I keep searching for someone to simply refill what’s been working for 8 years. THat’s all I want.

I realized today that I sound crazed. I’m not.

I’m just … sad.

We’re having a baby shower for Emily in two weeks. I’m very excited and nervous. I’ve pretty much planned it, and if it stinks, it’s my fault. We’re having a family party with his/her friends. A party. A celebration. With presents and games and cupcakes and laughter. I hope laughter. I need to laugh more.

Ok, since you asked. It’s pink and grey elephants. The mama – S a r a h – is into darker colors. I think pink grey and black look awesome together, so that’s sort of the colors for the shower. Not much black, but lots of grey and pink. Elephants. Not sure why. I hope she likes them.

Cause I might have gone a little nutzo. I don’t think so, but everyone else does. Humor me if you have a minute. Am I nuts?

I have this cake – it’s at 2pm so I don’t have to feed anyone, but there will be tons of cupcakes and mints and nuts. The cake is a diaper cake. With elephants.

Isn’t it darling? lol

Then I might have bought this fellow,

To do something like this ….

with 90 of these ….

two dozen grey/metallic balloons, and this …

Not sure if we will use all of this shit, but I’m letting the girls run wild with that idea. The girls being my daughter, and 3 of my daughter in laws, or soon to be daughter in laws. S A R A H is out for now. It’s a surprise. She knows she’s getting a shower, but everything’s a secret.

So they walk in to find elephant sitting on a table, and pink and grey balloons everywhere. I have masks for everyone, a sign about the masks, and a mask for him and her.

but it’ll be white masks with pink feet

We’ll play scavenger hunt while everyone gets here …

WHen everyone gets there, we’ll move on to the real games. Not many, as with 50 people, it’ll be a long shower. First of, there are teams of 5-6 people. People that know each other – whole families, long time friends and their wives, my kids and their SOs – so that everyone feels comfortable and has a good time.

After the scavenger hunt, the winning table gets a handful of hershey kisses (pink wrappers). Sarah will get a small gift – pacifiers, bottles, rattles, nail kits, etc. Next, is a diaper relay. 5 members of your team have to diaper, undiaper, then pass the baby to hte next person. 5 times. Winner gets candy while she gets gift. Then music trivia – songs with baby in the title. let them hear so many seconds and record the title and artist. THen there is a playdough family making contest. Each team will have 4 tubs of playdough, and has to make the best little family – austin and sarah will judge. Then we watch her open presents, while each table designs a onesie. No game on that one, as then people would rush, and i wanted people to take their time with this one.

What else,…. Ok, so I might have bought 8 different baby dolls for the 8 teams playing diaper relay. But I had to. Maybe i had to buy pink tablecloths and napkins and streamers and grey accents as well. i may have bought tiny but not so tiny a little one could choke — pacifiers for cupcake toppers.

Am I crazy? first grandbaby, yeah, but i’d spend it for every damn one of them.

Trying to make some hard decisions

Our grandbaby (awwww) is due on Feb 2nd. Baby girl. Emily Nichole. My middle name is Nichol. Do I stop posting here and move to moodygigi? I think I have the name already. I do. Already have a post up. Not that I remember doing it. My life is like that. Full of surprises.

I miss having a IRL friend. Part of you dies inside when you realize that no one. No one gives two shits about what you have to say. My husband, but I need more. I need to talk for hours on the phone every so many weeks. I need someone to help steer my ship, a therapist of sorts. I need to sit and absorb your you, and learn what makes you tick. I need a new best friend. Too bad it ain’t that easy. Besides, all my friends die. Who would want to step into that role.

My cousin died. She was my best friend. We were 11.

Larry died. He was one of my best friends for awhile.

Andrea died. She killed herself. Kind of fucked me up a little. She was my best friend in the army.

Shawn died. Shawn was the male me. I loved him fiercely. He died way too fucking young at 29.

Jennifer died. For over 25 years, she was my best friend. She had diabetes, and insisted on having three children. I now work with her son, and talk to the girls regularly through FB. I miss her terribly.

Dad died. Dad was one of my closest friends. Could talk to him about anything. Dad got cancer like Shawn. Fucking cancer.

I want to post more, I really do.

I just cannot quit this depression. It’s so heavy. I care about nothing. My family. That’s it. No friends left, but at least I have my family. Thank God. My greatest fear is being alone. Forgotten. Hopefully out of 6 kids one of them will remember me.

I’m going to talk to the new doctor about effexor. Migraines, anxiety, depression, hot flashes….. it does a lot. Motherfucker to come off of, if I remember, but so is Abilify, and I munch it down happily every morning. Now I just need to find a doctor. Not so easy, as it turns out.

J A S O N might have landed the job of his dreams and I am over the moon happy for him. I can’t remember if I told him that or not, so I should make a mental note to congratulate him if it works out. He’s been busting his ass our entire marriage, and while this new job won’t be an easy one, it’ll be one of those jobs that doesn’t feel like a job. Wee bit jealous. He deserves it.

Been in training the past 2 weeks …

Being converted to full time regular on the 18th, and had to have more training in order to make that happen. It’s window training, so I automatically love it. I love working with the public. WIth my anxiety. Go figure. But if they COME IN to MY place of business – be it the post office or a restaurant or a barbershop – they are coming in because they want something from me. I take great pride in being able to make people happy by giving them exactly what they want even if they weren’t sure about it themselves. People are spending hard earned money, and that should mean they get quality – both in product and service. I taught a class on customer service a long time ago. Before I started taking pills for my mental …. issues.

I wasn’t so fucking scared of shit back then. Now my own shadow gives me pause. S’ok. The trade off was worth it. I have my life back. I’m steering this bitch now, and my illnesses will never lead the way again. Unless the zombies come, and then I’m going back to being mean.


J and A – I use janda combinations for so many things. I put our initials together for a combined myspace log in. Geebus. That was a bit ago. Anyway, I’ve used it ever since. I say J and A in my head when I type it. Not janda. I say J and A because it reminds me that J is with me. Me. No one else. I’m with him. I choose to be with him after 30 years. I love him so much more than I did 3 decades ago. I didn’t know what love was back then. I loved him, but I had no idea that there were so many levels.

He became my best friend early on. He continues to be. We parent the same way. We share the same political beliefs. We like the same kind of friends. He plays sports. I watch. He has become the Cleaning Master. Some chores are split up according to who has a penis (spiders, snakes, something high up, something dead, something smelly, leftovers to garbage because it makes me gag, snow removal, car repair, do you get the picture? Then there are vagina jobs. Growing those babies, breastfeeding, puke, pee, shit we share. Blood – totally his. I faint.

Discipline used to be me. Now it’s him. Both I guess. No, him. Abilify has left me completely neutered. I take it for my temper, but it dampens every bit of it. I have a hard time getting fired up. Safer that way. But that has turned him into the mean guy. I don’t mind. I was the bitch for so many years – the kids’ younger years too. When they needed discipline yes, but not from the bipolar mom with the nasty temper. I never hurt them. I just yelled when they fucked up. And sometimes just for being kids. If only we could have our minds now at 50 and the body of a 20 year old – that would be perfect to raise a child. But we can’t. And I can’t go back those first 15 years and medicate.

Anyfucking way – where was I? Oh yes, there are also regular chores that are shared by both us – except with my nighttime hours and the depression, I personally don’t give a shit about chores right now. I’m such a clean person, and it kills me that the house is in need of some love. J A S O N comes home every night and helps me cook. He cleans the kitchen, bathroom, living room, and does laundry. I try try try to do shit during the day, but I’m so worthless. I did start a load this morning. I’m trying. Baby Baby Baby – maybe if I remind myself that I’m almost a grandma, my head will stay above water.

Where was I? What was my point? The point is, my husband and I don’t have the perfect marriage. We fight. Not as much since we are managing to pay the bills on time, but we still fight. We also make up. Quite nicely. Some things are perfected with age. The longer we’re married, the better the sex is. Go figure. Ain’t that the way it’s supposed to be?

If J ever leaves the A, ……. she probably won’t make it.

Too many fucking spiders.

Lewis Capaldi

I can’t get enough of his voice. So crisp, so strong, so beautiful.

Maybe I’m late to the party, but I don’t listen to the radio in my defense. I go through the top 10 songs every so often to see what I’m missing. When one catches my …. ear, I tend to obsess. I simply adore this guy. I have yet to find a song that I tend to skip over. There is always a skip song. Not on this cd. I only bought one though, so maybe the others have garbage, but I doubt it.


Yeah, I’m alive. Sit down, I have some news.

I knew I’d need it someday – MoodyGiGi.com that is.

Yuppers – A u s t i n and his girl S a r a h are going to have a little one. And that girl is now his wife and we love her. She’s a young-in, and my son needs his ass kicked, but I can see why he’s with her. She’s been on her own for awhile now, and that grows ya up. Haven’t you missed my butchering of the English Language?

Ok, there’s that news. Guess I don’t have much more. That was pretty much the highlight of my past few years. I’ve been really down, reason why I rarely post. Eyore shouldn’t talk to people while dealing with that dreadful depression. It brings people down.

But, I feel better. I’m going to be a gigi, my marriage is 30+ years old now and still strong, i have a new daughter, my baby daughter graduated from high school yesterday, i got promoted, and i started taking my pills regularly. Bettin the farm it was the pills. Although I have not managed to tell anyone about the baby with out bawling. So that could be helping a teeny bit.

We are saving for a house. I want Ian to have the space he needs for him and his equipment. Just too cramped here. I have toilet paper under the bed and paper towels in the linen closet because there just isn’t any room for anything anymore. We have grown up and out. So, we save. Except shit keeps breaking. Ain’t it always the way.

I’m missed this place. Not sure what to do when the baby comes. Do I move? Do I give this domain up? I’ve had it for 20 years.

Been awhile . Again. Because I suck.

I A N is in the hospital after having spinal surgery. He’s doing very well. All of a sudden. He spent 5 days in PICU, today he went to the floor, and he’ll probably go home Monday.

He had a feeding tube in on the 13th of Feb. He’s still eating, but it was important for after this surgery.

I am not suffering from a nervous breakdown yet. Yet is Key.

J A S O N and I have been snarling at each other for two days, and even though we both know it’s just stress, it’s hard to remember that when someone is tired and snippy. Or going stir crazy like he is. He’s the one staying at the hospital at night. I go home alone and wait for the next day to drive the hour back there. I can’t ‘do’ hospitals. i smell death and sickness and depression and tears and pain and I just can’t stay there for very long. It’s stupid, but the longer I’m there, the …. sicker I get? But it’s a mental sickness,and it starts to go away with fresh air. I’m also homesick – although I don’t think that’s the right word. I’m just an introvert that combusts inside every time life forces me to leave my fucking house.

I’m currently in the running for Housekeeper of the Year. Unless they see that I’m currently sleeping with a large pile of clothes where my husband should be sleeping. No I’m not lonely. I’m fucking depressed and could give two shits about those clothes. Besides, I’m one of those – one position all night – people. set it and forget it

I might need to shower in the morning as I’m having trouble remembering my last bout with cleanliness. Not nasty, again just can’t be bothered by baths and such, because?? You got it, fucking depressed and I don’t give a shit.

I should be helping with the house and the dishes and such, but who am I kidding? I’m too fucking mentally burned the fuck out right now that I can’t possible fucking fathom lifting a fucking finger to do anything, and I’m liable to destroy anyone that wants to make issue. I’ll get around to everything, tomorrow.

Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow

Alright, up at 5am means bedtime now


This may take some getting used to …

I usually work from 1 am to 930 am.

I now work from 1 pm to 930 pm.

Huge change to my inner clock. I can now stay up late again – which makes my heart happy, but I can get up and enjoy early morning – which is heaven as well. I couldn’t enjoy either one working early mornings. But now? I stay up until 1 or so, then pop right up at 4ish, 5ish. Hopefully that will gradually shift to 6am, which is when I need to get up every day.

I forgive myself for sucking at this.

Can’t apologize though. It’s been busy for everyone. So, I forgive myself. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. I’m allowing myself to live for once. To play video games with the kids when I should start dinner. To go out on a date with my husband for two hours and leave our handicap son (gasp!) with C arson. To sing when I want to. To smile at everyone I meet. To listen to music everywhere. To take my meds because I want to, so I never go back to where I was. To forgive others that have been due for a pardon for a long while now. To fantasize about my husband – because he’s hot. To not give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks. I mean, I do in a way. I just want everyone to be as happy as I am and mind their own fucking business.

It’s amazing how you feel…

when you take your fucking medication like you’re supposed to.

Still bawled like a baby when son #3 said he might come home instead of staying in California. Then I bawled again when the bus company left my disabled, lung-compromised child that cannot speak above a whisper outside my door for 5 minutes while DROVE THE FUCK OFF WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A HONK. Bastards. They will hear about this tomorrow. I’m not calling today because I’m liable to kick someone’s ass and I know the people that run it and I don’t want to make shit weird or bad for I A N. But motherfucker. Do NOT leave my kid fending for himself when it’s 29 degrees out. God help them tomorrow. Had I been watching the window like June CLeaver, I would be able to run out like a good bitch and greet my son the proper way. Except they come anywhere from 3-3:45. Never the same time twice. Sorry, not sitting on the couch for 45 minutes when you can honk your fucking horn to get my attention.

Hot damn I’m pissed.

If he gets sick…..

Do I feel better today?

Not really. Lots of things going on. Not major things, but enough medium type things that are pinging around in my head so I don’t forget them. Bad part is, my anxiety keeps me from using the phone very much. 2 of my tasks involve the phone. That’ll be fun.

I was supposed to work from 6pm -2am. Yuck. Except, it’s quiet in the evenings and the work is at your pace. Well, once the trucks are gone. Getting the trucks unloaded and then reloaded on time is a giant pain in the ass. Total bust ass work. So I guess you are rewarded with slower paced shit. But I don’t have a slow speed. So I do 50 millions chores around the plant for the shift coming in. They love me. They miss me on mornings though. My home mail usually comes at noon. When he doesn’t roll up until 3? They had a yucky day at the post office. That’ll teach you to put me on nights.

ANYfuckingway, I was supposed to work from 6-2, but now I have to go in at 4, so I get off at midnight. Cue the Angel Choir. Much better. I am sorting mail for the first two hours. BOring. But necessary. Then I’ll help with the dock, then I’ll do whatever the fuck I want for the last 4 hours. BOring. I need the fast pace of mornings. That’s bust ass the entire time.

Oh well. I will treat this as a vacation.

Not even going to make excuses why I haven’t posted.

Life has been happening. ‘Nuff said.

Not to say that I have a busy life. It’s not really. Not anymore. No kids around most of the time. No husband around most of the time. Just me. Me by myself a lot. Realizing just how much of Me comes out of the rx bottle. Yesterday I slept until 10am. I didn’t take my morning pills until 2pm. Needless to say, I didn’t get dressed until 5pm – to get ready for work at 6pm. Today? I get home at 2:30am, sleep from 3-6am, take my meds, see kids off to school, shower, dress, and head to Wally world to get more rx’s – all before 8am. Something still goes wonky every now and again and I cannot get with it. What happens when my brain just refuses to turn on – and I have to go to work? It’s happened twice with school. Only classes I missed in 4 years. Wait, I missed one when Jen died. So 3.

I’d say I’ve been having sad thoughts more than usual, but is it more than usual? Or is it just the norm? I dunno anymore. I’m just sad. Sad that some fucked up disease is going to steal my sunshine in a few years. Hurts to breathe when I think about it. I don’t tuck it away though. I know from dealing with my cousin’s death that you have to deal with the demons as they come at you, or they fester and unite and become something you can’t defeat on your own. Each and every time I think about the inevitability of the situation, it sucker punches me. Every time. I explore a bit of the horror that awaits us, and it destroys me. I’m just hoping it’s desensitizing me, even a little bit so the real deal doesn’t kill me. Cause I’m afraid it might.

I keep creeping myself out

I wanted to listen to My Own Prison this morning (oh hush, I love it), but I couldn’t remember who sang it. I knew Scott Stapp, but I didn’t know the name of the band. I put my head down and thoughtthoughthought – and CREED popped into my head. I yanked my head up to scroll back up to get to the C’s, and saw that my cursor was hovering over My Own Prison. I’m not even lying.

Co-Workers think I’m a witch because I can ‘find’ people. If I start thinking about someone or talking about someone, I’ll see one of their packages or letters that day. 3 have happened at the same moment. I was listening to a friend speak about a co-worker’s ex-husband being a deadbeat dad and how they couldn’t locate him and yadayada – and guess who’s letter I happened to be holding with his new address? Yeah.

I was talking to a new gal about the psych department at the university and rambled on about my favorite professor – only to be holding her package when I looked down. These strange “happenings” make me jump inside – my guts are tied in knots for hours afterward.

Then my favorite – I was telling my friend at work about my mother’s diet pill addiction – and proceeded to toss a package (of pills) into the bin. I went to check on the package because of how it landed. It was mom’s. I damn near had a heart attack.

If I’m a witch, I’m getting fucked out of cool powers. Soooo, I don’t think so.

But I’m starting to believe in ghosts.