Fridays….

I love Fridays.  I love that I have a shorter work day, but far more work to to in my office, and that the time flies…..which means that I always, ALWAYS over-schedule myself, and that I wind up hangry….which is where I am, at the dealership, waiting to get my tire fixed and put back on my car.

Oh, yeah–I blew up my frickin’ tire yesterday,  and due to my husband’s work schedule, NO ONE COULD COME SAVE PRINCESS CASSIDY.

Sigh. #Spoiled

Now, seriously, had I been able to get the stupid jack centered, I could have changed the damn thing myself, but no, Princess here had to get all caught up in being mad at her husband, and couldn’t calm her crazy enough to get her head out of her rear. So, I called State Farm’s sad excuse for Roadside, and thought I was going to reach through the phone to choke someone because evidently, no one teaches the Roadside people HOW TO USE GOOGLE.

Did I mention that I’m hangry?!

Anyways,  an #EagleScout came to my rescue and changed my tire. God bless ’em.

So, today, I am back at the dealership, waiting for my tire, and trying to figure out how exactly I’m going to have time to cram in a doctor’s appointment, a pedicure, being on time to pick  up my son, and getting him to the pediatrician,  all before 3:20 p.m….and how to do it all without having a #panicattack?!?!?

Oh, wait….pause, my car is ready (saves draft with every intention of completing this post last night, but now it’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m trying to finish this while my husband teaches our son how to fly a kite with no breeze at the local park)…

Last night, almost all of those things did happen, except for the panic attack & the pedicure . I actually managed to survive a completely packed day without totally freaking out! That’s kind of a miracle. Anxiety is definitely an issue for me, which a lot of people don’t understand, because on the surface, I seem pretty outgoing and fairly confident. It’s a total ruse.

If you are new to reading any of my blog posts, you’ll find me to be pretty transparent. My writing always takes a complete free-fall whenever I start being super religious and fake. It’s hard for me to put all of my dirty laundry out there, but since we all have pretty much the same dirty laundry, I’m learning to get over myself and just tell the truth. One of my goals in writing this blog is to show how we are all the same regardless of outward appearance, upbringing, financial success or failures, or places where we live. We all have so much in common, and the best way to figure that out is through loving honesty. So, yeah, I struggle with anxiety and panic attacks. I’ve had a complicated medical history, combined with some pretty stressful situations, and things have not been the easiest. However, there’s a verse in Proverbs 31 that says, “she can laugh at the days to come.” It’s one of my favorite verses, and it’s one of the goals for my life. There is always a reason to laugh.

Even when you’re stuck at the car dealership waiting on a blown up tire.

Anyway, I made it to every single appointment on time yesterday (I had to skip the pedicure, which to me, is a BRUTAL sacrifice). Someday I’m going to figure out why it’s okay for doctors to be 15-20 minutes late, but it’s not okay for patients to run 5 minutes late. I have worked in health care for almost 18 years, and that has always driven me absolutely crazy. Why can’t people just be on time? When you really respect something or someone, you make it a point to be on time. It just burns me up. It’s gotten a little bit harder to keep my schedule now that I have a child, but now he’s four, and I think I’ve got it sort of figured out. I think that I am on time probably 80 to 90% of the time. My biggest issue is that I’m usually too early for things, and I’ve learned that can be just as annoying as being late. Most of my friends are late to everything, and it really does drive me crazy. If you are one of my friends and you are reading this, yeah, I’m probably talking about you. I did run really late to a birthday party recently, and it messed up my parents and it messed up my little sister and it messed up everything for the rest of the night, and I felt terrible. But my lateness is rare.

(Please do not think I am tooting my own horn here. I am a complete failure in plenty of other areas. Time just happens to be one of them I managed fairly well. But, like I said, I have worked in healthcare for 18 years and everything is done by an appointment book. I should be good at it by now.)

I caught myself being really petty and douchey yesterday when I went to pick up my son. I wasn’t running late, but I was trying to get out of there by a certain time, and I had a million questions for the teacher, since we have never put a kid in school before, and I have no idea what I’m doing, what she’s doing, or how my kid is doing. So I am that annoying parent that asked a million questions anytime I happen to see the teacher. Sorry, Miss Leslie. Anyway, as soon as I am walking out of the classroom, I run into her. HER. She is everything I am not, and never will be. From the neck up, she looks like she just walked out of a hair salon, and was headed to a formal. Her hair was perfect, her makeup was perfect, and her use of highlighter should have won her some kind of an award. I think she even had her eyelashes done. She looked like a movie star. From the neck down, though, she was wearing a sports bra crop top, and a pair of high-waisted Capri leggings that hugged her size zero booty like a second skin. From the neck up, she said, “I’d like to thank the academy for this award,” and from the neck down, she said, “I’m on my way to a pole dancing aerobics class.” I was  instantly judgmental, completely confused, completely jealous, and completely self-conscious of my size-16 ass.

What is wrong with me?

The worst part of it all, was that I instantly started telling my son, being sure to be within her earshot, about all of the work we had done that day for underserved kids in the local school district. Like she cared! It was like I had to declare myself in some way to make her think that I wasn’t a total fat loser, when the reality was, she probably didn’t even see me, and if she did, she didn’t care about me! What is wrong with me? And why in the world would I care so much about what she thought of me? Sometimes I wonder if my brain is ever going to get out of high school.

When I decided that I wanted to start writing a Blog several years ago, I always said that I wanted to be totally honest with myself, and anyone that wanted to read what I had to say. I’m wondering how possible that is when I can’t get out of my own head space, and stop assuming that everyone that sees me is passing some kind of a judgment on me. Or when will I stop doing the same? I get frustrated with my own stupidity.

I am a judgmental, slightly-OCD/paranoid wreck of a woman who struggles with anxiety, loves Jesus, and eats too damn much chocolate.

I think that sentence pretty much sums up who I am, if you’re reading this for the first time…and I forgot to mention the Most Important Part, and my whole reason for blogging in the first place:

Jesus.

Loves.

Me.

He loves you, too.

You don’t have to be perfect–you don’t have to be anything other than who you are. You can be that Size 0 Mom walking into her child’s school, looking more perfect than the Venus de Milo. You can be the Size 16 Mom walking into her child’s school, feeling hideous and invisible, struggling with your self-esteem. You can be the Single Mom who fights to make ends meet, or the Married Mom who cries in the shower because her hormones are whacked out. You can be all of the above, or in your own, uniquely-beautiful category.

You can be a Grounded Optimist….Flawed Believer….An Opinionated Wife…A Helicopter Mom….

Or A Well-Dressed Hot Mess.

He loves you.

And if it takes me pouring out my good days and my bad days…if it takes me showing off my mess….If it takes everything out of me to show you and I, and everyone in-between, that He loves us where we are, that He created us the way we are, then I am all in.

Are you?

Stay tuned!

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