I’m a freak. I’ve been aware of this my entire life. The constant checking and re-checking of my behavior in relation to other children became standard. Pretending to be normal was an obsession and I was, and still am, miserable at it. It’s exhausting. After 34 years of stuffing all of the oddities and eccentricities in a bag, my seams started to tear and all the crazy, sad, unsure, worthless feelings came spilling out. My carefully constructed self was cracking and the OG (original garbage) oozed out. I was failing as an employee, I was failing as a mother, I was failing as a wife, and the only happy face in my home was my Muppet of a puppy. I hated myself and I didn’t want to force anyone to put up with me anymore. This blog is part of the healing process and one of the different trails I am exploring in an attempt to find out what I had lost. So if you are reading this, I’m still alive and it looks like you are too. We are both so fortunate, no matter how many times the monsters and demons come to the mat to wrestle, we have continued to fight on and we’re still here. For a first post, this is rather depressing. I’m feeling rather depressing right now but that isn’t all of who I am, I promise. There will be pictures of my pup in one of her many sexy poses, rando stories of the adventures of T (my aspie kiddo), and other other shit that comes floating through my brain. This may not always be a pleasant space, but it will be honest. I will do my best to entertain but that part is secondary. This is my cyber-journal and as part of my therapy homework I have to write how I’m feeling, what I am thinking, and what I imagine my dog is saying as she’s stretched out on my bed in a pose plagiarized from an 80’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. So that’s this. Welcome to the rambling of a mad woman.