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I need an un-birthday. Or a therapist.


It’s been most difficult to keep posting due to my Chronic Badass Superability #43: Pushing through the chaos of my reality in order to materialize the best DIY wedding EVER.


(Okay, maybe not, like…EVER, ever…but I do (might/quite possibly) strive for OCD conforming perfection…)

Did I mention I taught myself to sew only a few weeks ago to make the clothing for all five of my kids?  Ah, right.

Okay, but did I mention I made all of the invitations by hand and personally stamped a reply card to look like a postcard?  Ah, right.

Ya, but did I tell you that I’d previously made all of the moms’ corsages and the dads’ boutonnieres?  Huh.  I don’t friggin’ remember.  But I did.  So there.

Why is this something that I feel I must/want do? 1) Because it puts my energy and my intent into the project at hand.  2) Because I soak up the accolades for doing a pretty damn good job at it like my veins absorb caffeine during March Break (aka…this week).  3) Because it keeps me from sinking deeper into depression.

Womanwholookslikesheholdsittogether, says, “What?”


Ya, that’s right.  Me.  Myself.  I, if I want a threesome.

The past year and a half have been THE absolute WORST/BEST of my entire 37  years…and I’ve had some doozies either way.

I have fought health battles that have made me ponder and prepare my “death file”.  I have endured personal battles that make most people just look at me and say, “I don’t know what to say…”.  My heart hurts on a level pericarditis can’t touch…

Feelings tangoed with the chaos of my reality and it has left me feeling like the Tardis begat the Twilight Zone and Scotty forgot to beam my I’ve-earned-this-ass UP.

Then couple in the fears with the guilts…the hurts with the chaos…the clock with the plans.


Who the hell lives like this?!

Add to this recipe for exasperation the difficulties in choosing what I do, when I do it, how I do it and at a pain scale that would have, when I was pre-afflicted, made me sick to my stomach…and I’ve got that eyeroll going at the end of every day when I look into that prescription bottle and think, “Shit.  That ain’t enough.”

THEN, mix in a dollop of “I want to kick this in the ass so hard I knock it into next Tuesday” anger folded into the badassery of continuing to want to educate…inform…hell, maybe even inspire…a couple of people whilst dealing with the aforementioned chaos and inner turbulence.

To show someone…ANYone…that with a little bit of effort you can take that shit-assed hand you were dealt with and…well…change the whole goddamn game

Which brings me to my Un-birthday.

March is tumultuous.  Came in like a lion, weatherwise.  Mood-wise, for myself, as well.

But it’s a Badass Month.  Why?

1)  My blog will turn one.

2) I will overcome my fear of all things dental and go get a damn cleaning tomorrow, thus being pro-active in my overall general health.

3) Lastly, speaking of all things being pro-active in my overall general health…this month…on the 28th…will be my first year anniversary of being smoke-free.


So, then, what helps me to soothe an aching inner?

Busyship.  Industriousness.

In turn, this is exemplified by my self-discipline.  These are virtues I hold dear to me, with notable importance given our handfasting quickly approaching (52 days, but who’s counting? *shifty eyes*)

That, and my determination to find one badass thing per day, every day.

Just one.  (I’m under enough stress.)

Today?  Table numbers.

It was on my to-do list.

It’s no longer on my to-do list.

19 tables. Double sided.

Pretty badass.

I’m going to ROCK basket-weaving classes on the psych floor. 🙂



  1. Iris

    Congratulations on your first blog birthday! And on holding it together while doing everything for the wedding. I do hope you’re going to post wedding photos.
    When I was healthy I couldn’t have done everything you do when you’re sick – you’re so amazing. Basket weaving classes? You’ll be too busy redesigning the whole place so it runs more efficiently, looks better, and can do ground-breaking research in some totally unrelated area.

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