Well, hello there…

It’s been awhile and I feel like I’ve begun every post I’ve written in the last year with some version of that.

Anyhoo, there have been many changes in the last few months. The biggest one? I’ve been happy and it’s about fucking time.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s been quite chaotic, but I feel like I’m finally back again.

One of the biggest contributions to my lift in spirits was my new promotion at work. Pretty much working full time has helped my financial troubles, forced me out of bed and social.   Having some sort of routine has proven to be quite helpful in trying to crawl out of my personal downward spiral. Now, I covet every minute I’m not working and am amazed at how fast 9 hours can whiz by while at work.

I commute into the city for my new job now and the change of pace has been really good. I think I was feeling really stuck and living and working in the suburbs didn’t help. Although I’m not a fan of the 35-60 minute drive (depending on traffic), the upbeat pace of the city has really lifted my spirits. Oh! And I have to say, Pandora has really saved my life during those long commutes.

Well, I hope you are well and I’ll be back soon. XO

Sharing a meal together

I have to say, no matter what the terms, divorce is hard. I’ve struggled for the last 6 months and waver at the thought of getting through this period without my friends and boyfriend. So, thanks to all who have been in my life.

I recently came across an article on apartment therapy about communal meals and realized how much this has saved me. Due to the severe financial changes, I’ve cooked more in the last 6 months than in my entire life combined. The funny thing is, I crave it now and find myself mentally putting together a meal with what’s available in my kitchen and racing home to whip it together. It helps that there are always hungry mouths to feed too.

There’s something comforting about being surrounded by people, creating a meal and sharing it together. Often times, I have to make enough for my two boys, Bill, his son and perhaps the peppering of Liz’s kids. It brings comfort and stability to my boys to sit down at a table to inhale a home cooked meal. During my marriage, there was a lot of takeout and the boys would often eat before my ex and I did.

To this day, it’s rather difficult for me to sit at a table for family dinners. Whenever my parents, siblings and I would gather for a meal, it would be stomach turning. My father would find something to nag or insult me over, therefore leaving my appetite nonexistent and forcing me to leave the table. I have a natural instinct to flee whenever we gather for meals. It’s a muscle memory and it takes a lot for me to fight it.

However, I see the importance of sharing a meal together. My boys now enjoy the ritual of feasting and sharing their days at the table. Although I’m naturally a quiet person, Bill has taken the reigns and kept the dinner talk going with our kids. I really appreciate all that he does, especially the large mess I’ve created after producing the meal.

With money so tight lately, creativity kicks into overdrive. When my boys crave something from a restaurant, I will do what I can to recreate it on the cheap. Aldi has been a great resource for inexpensive food and it’s been nice to see my boys get excited for chicken or fish and green beans.

Did I just say green beans? My kids are eating vegetables that aren’t dipped in batter and fried to an artery clogging perfection? Well, if being poor gets my kids to eat well, I suppose I’ll take being poor.

Run Butters RUN!

It’s been 6 months since I’ve moved out of the house and into my apartment. And to be perfectly honest, the adjustment has been difficult. The biggest mistake I made was getting off my antidepressants. I knew I couldn’t afford to stay on any long term medication, let alone doctor’s visits, so I got off of everything last summer. Since I won’t have health insurance, it was more of a practical choice. However, waking up several times a night between 3-6am in full panic mode hasn’t been exactly fun. Desperate for a full night’s sleep, I dosed myself with some children’s benadryl last night, only to find myself awake at 3 am, yet again.

I was originally put on Zoloft several years ago by my neurologist for my migraines. He was set on regulating my sleep pattern and felt it was a crucial factor in my chronic migraines. His theory was that Zoloft stopped the “gerbil on the wheel” effect. Many women suffer from this medical condition of “gerbil on the wheel”, where their brain continues to run and turn over things to do, should the nonfat cool whip be purchased instead of the full fat version, is it wrong to want destroy the neighbor’s load of laundry, one article of clothing at a time when they’ve left it in the dryer for over a week? You know, real world changing topics. Well, the Zoloft definitely took care of that gerbil for me. In fact, the Zoloft stabbed that gerbil repeatedly until he quit twitching on his damn wheel.

Now that my gerbil has returned with a vengeance, he sprints on his goddam wheel nonstop. I catch myself running numbers in my head, which is probably the worst possible thing for me to do, considering I am the one Asian who shames the United Nation of Yellows with my lack of mathleticism.

How have my migraines been, you ask? Surprisingly, better than 2 years ago. I still get them 4-5 times a month, but a huge improvement to everyfrigginday. I think the reason the number has remained so low is the lack of pain intervention I use. I try to just truck along, with the occasional tylenol or hot bath in the dark. Lots of hot baths in the dark. That way, I don’t have to catch a glimpse of my fat ass in the mirror and gives the gerbil less power to run on.

Have you been pinning?

I was sent a Pinterest invite by GG at the perfect time! I always knew about Pinterest, but didn’t really register it. Well, I was in the midst of planning and redecorating my place when my bookmark page was overflowing with links. Pinterest is the perfect tool for getting organized, in addition to being a fabulous resource for home decorating, recipes and style. So get pinning!

Happy Birthday to Bill!!!

To the nicest (good grief, you’re KILLING me with your niceness) and most kindhearted man I know, the happiest of birthdays to you. I love you and hope you enjoyed the birthday lasagna I slaved over today. Because you’ll be eating the damn thing for the remainder of the week.

it’s been awhile…

Happy New Year!

Where is the FB relationship status, “Ask me again and I’ll stab you in the eye with a fork.”

So, my best mate Liz and I have been kind of on the same path in the relationship world… we’re both waiting for our divorces to finalize and we’re both dating. The difference is, she’s “in a relationship” with her man and has recently made it legit on Facebook.

Holy shit, that’s serious. HOLY FUCKING SHIT, LIZ!!! YOU ARE IN A RELATIONSHIP AND MADE IT PUBLIC ON FACEBOOK.

I mean, congratulations to Liz! I love you and I’m so happy for you and your guy, but the actual idea of taking that step has me flailing my stumpy arms and running into a wall. Now, this is not a jab at my guy, he’s on the same page as me… we spend quite a bit of time together, our sons are the best of friends, but we are both sprinting towards opposite hills at the mere mention of “relationship”.

However, I was on Facebook tonight, being very nosy and noticed my man’s FB page stated he was “single” and my immediate reaction was, WHOA. HOLD UP. 

And this is where you mutter to yourself, “Good Lord, she’s such a typical woman.”

And you know what? I fucking am. I’m a bat-shit crazy WOMAN who bathes in psycho water while eating chicken wings, scheduling and then canceling and then rescheduling an appointment for a lobotomy because I don’t know what the fuck I want.

I can’t even say, “[insert my man’s name here] and I are dating.” It sort of comes out as, “So, [man’s name], um and, um I AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH SHIT gargle gargle, uh darting?” And I honestly think I said, “darting” instead of “dating” because I suddenly have Tourettes when discussing my relationship status.

And you know what? If my man decides to change his relationship status to “in a relationship”, I would shit myself. And perhaps smear feces all over my laptop so I wouldn’t have to read it, ever again.

I think there should just be a relationship status: “I’m too fucked up to know.”

Didn’t I use to be funny?

Thanks for everyone’s comments on the post of my parents. The good news is, my father was discharged from the hospital a day earlier than anticipated and he seems to be recovering fine. In fact, he is very much back to himself as I just received several spam emails from him this morning. He likes to forward a ton of junk to everyone he knows… no matter how offensive or inappropriate.

So, I’m finding myself quite perplexed with the lack of humor I’ve been emitting. Or, perhaps I’m just being drowned out by the new people in my life who are damn hilarious. Let’s take a look at exhibit A, one of my bosses, Nate:

Nate spends quite a bit of time strutting his dance floor moves and exercising a serious set of pipes. I’m not sure how, but we do get work done even between all the laughter and silliness that ensues. Today, Nate had to sport a pair of slippers at work due to a broken toe. The persistent sound of his tiny feet shuffling behind me instantly brought me back to the days of volunteering at a nursing home. OH MY GOD, that fucking nursing home my parents insisted on “volunteering” at, which consisted of entertaining the comatose crowd with my father’s tone deaf karaoke singing. If the deathly sound of my father’s mangled English didn’t bring the crowd from the dead, then it was my mother’s insistence of force feeding Little Debbie treats down those poor old people who couldn’t even run because my mother would wheel them down from their rooms in their wheelchairs shouting, “PAWTY TIME! PAWTY TIME!”

If that is my future, kill me now.

Ok, back to the shuffling slippered feet… I distinctly remember one toothless elderly man who was covered in tattoos of nekkid women. That sneaky mother fucker would shuffle up to me from behind, grab my arm and cling for dear life. I couldn’t understand a word he said to me, I just remembered his toothless grin and that awful elderly stench which was probably their insides just rotting from the inside out. Again, if that is my future, please just smother me in my sleep with a down euro pillow, preferably with a 800 fill power. You won’t have to hold it over my sleeping face for very long with that amount of fluff.

So now, every time I hear Nate’s slippers shuffling behind me, I tense up and whip around only to find my harmless supervisor. Who sings and dances around the store like a fucking fairy on meth.

Thanks for making my life bearable, Nate.

7500 miles away

My mother and father were hardworking people– 7 days a week, 12-15 hours a day to provide for their family. As a result, there wasn’t much of a presence in the parental department. I either helped in the kitchen (where my mother ran a catering business out of our home) or lived out little Mia’s La La Land and played by myself. Very little was exchanged between me and my parents and as a result, I never quite picked up Taiwanese growing up. Since my parents never learned to speak English over the 30 years they resided in the states, I don’t communicate with them very much.

I received the very sad news today that my father is currently in the ICU from a heart attack this past weekend. I don’t have details, but he will head into surgery tomorrow morning. My mother just recently recovered from her second eye surgery, as she was losing her vision rapidly in the last few months.

I’m not particularly close to either one of my parents… let’s just say the relationship has always been tumultuous. I’ve always struggled with the idea of staying in contact with them during my adult life, but chose to, for the sake of my children and building some sense of family for them. My boys still ask about their grandparents, as they usually see them during this time of year since my parents live 6 months in the states and 6 months in Taiwan. Due to the state of their health, they have decided to stay in Taiwan. And even though there is a huge language barrier between my boys and my parents, they still have a large bond. As shitty as they were as parents, they certainly made up for it as grandparents.

My reaction to the news about my father was rather shocking to me. I was devastated. To be honest, I’ve always longed for their distant absence, in hopes of moving on with my life and past. At the same time, I’ve never felt such a sinking sensation this news has brought me. And so helpless or alone, 7500 miles away.

I struggle with my feelings today and I imagine I will continue to for quite some time. For now, I just need to breathe and let it all sink in.