• 15 minute posts,  Life Lessons,  spilling my guts

    Pecked By Ducks


    You guys. I should have known that blogging about my bad feelings would be like plugging into a solar lamp. I forget that sometimes all you have to do to feel better is ask for help.  Just plug the lamp in! The internet is standing by, waiting to be encouraging. You’ve really made me feel so much better with your commiseration and good advice. I was so afraid of being judged that I held off too long. It was silly. I need to stop caring about what people think of me so much.

    The ducks are still pecking away but I feel less alone. Thank you, Mamalang, for that excellent quote from your wise friend. Did you see that in the comments?

    It’s easier to get eaten by an alligator than pecked to death by ducks.  


    This morning I had to get my bloodwork done so I didn’t eat breakfast because you are required to fast for twelve hours. It’s no big deal. I wasn’t starving or anything but I had to do school drop off without my coffee and I missed it! I’m a natural morning person so I don’t need caffeine to function but boy am I addicted. I love coffee! I was one sad sack without it. I didn’t even get a headache but it was cloudy and overcast and I felt like I was in some kind of depression. I was early to my appointment and everything was cold and air conditioned. I just wanted to go home and crawl under the covers.

    But I made it through of course. I’m not scared of needles. And then I came home, turned on my space heater, made myself the best egg breakfast you can make when you don’t eat butter and your bread is made out of something sprouted and had a big cup of coffee. I tuned my iphone stereo to my favorite piano solo station and here I am feeling about a thousand times better.

    Thank you.


    I know you needed a play by play. But if I’m going to get back into blogging regularly I have to write about what’s in my brain and that’s what I’ve got.

    I’ve been really down lately because I’m afraid of debt. I’m going into debt deeper and deeper because of my car problems and my biggest fear is that it will snowball and I won’t be able to ever be free. I don’t know why I’m so afraid. What’s the worst that could happen? I could get evicted and have to live at my parents? Bug won’t get to stay in the school that I think is so great?  Nobody will hire me and I’ll die a failure?  I don’t know. It’s just a big heavy rug of fear that weighs on me every moment of the day. And sometimes it weighs so hard I can’t function and that just makes my fear worse because if I can’t work then I can’t make money and I can’t pay off my debt.

    Anyway. I’m fine. Nobody needs to send me money. Send me work, sure. I love work. :) But I’m privileged. I’m lucky that I have credit. I’m lucky that I have a skill. I’ve never applied for any government aid even though I’d easily qualify. I have friends and resources. I don’t need anybody’s charity. I just need an attitude adjustment sometimes and thank you so much for that. Thank you for letting me be down among friends. I really appreciate it.

    Toby has been there for me. He’s helped me financially. He’s given me car advice. But you know how it is when you are single after being married for so long? You want someone to confide in. You miss that person. You feel so alone even though you are surrounded by friends and family who care. There’s a void there. I think I’ve been ignoring it and pretending it doesn’t exist. I don’t intend on filling that void for a long time. Dating scares me.

    Wow. Too much information. I think about all the people who read this and I’m embarrassed. I’m just putting it all out there for even my father-in-law to read. Crap. Do I really want to do this? This is why I don’t blog as often as I used to.  I talk myself out of blogging regularly.


    The other day was Bug’s first day of school. She’s in the portables this year. The portables are a series of about six trailers parked at the back of the school on the blacktop. They are sad and pathetic. Behind them is a big beautiful grassy field bordered by trees so it’s not like she’s stuck in a trailer park next to a freeway or anything. But strangely, it feels that way. When I saw on her school website that she was located in a class preceded by the letter “P” my heart sank. It’s like we were suspended to Rejectland.

    It’s such a weird thing. I think all the parents feel that way too. We are separate from the rest of the second graders and I miss my old pack of moms who used to stand around and socialize while we waited for our kids to get out of school. It’s just not the same. I  feel isolated. I wonder if the kids do too.

    It’s all in our heads. The teachers are great. Bug’s classroom actually seems bigger and more spacious inside than her old one. It’s decorated with bright paper and everything seems tidy and orderly. I think I like her new teacher. I’m sure we’ll make a new pack of friends and it’s going to be fine.

    But I hatched an idea. What if there were potted trees by the trailers? You know, on a drip system or something so they would be green and healthy? Right now they have one little neglected garden that is a patch of rock-hard dirt and some uneven paving stones. Weeds aren’t even growing it’s so desolate. It’s surrounded by a temporary white picket fence that is sagging. Nobody waters anything and the only plants that are alive are a couple of potted office plants that somebody discarded.

    Every day I walk by that sad four-by-eight foot patch of dirt and I ache to water it. Maybe it’s just the green thumb in me. I can’t ignore it. I asked around and  supposedly it belongs to the after-school program. It’s dead because nobody watered it over the summer. They’ve been meaning to bring it back to health but nobody’s gotten around to it yet.

    I know I need another cause like a hole in my head but maybe I’m the one to start something. Maybe a local nursery will donate some plants and a watering system. I don’t know…it’s just something I’m thinking about. At the very least maybe calling attention to this might make the rest of the school realize that we feel this way. I know I’m not alone in this.



    And with that I’ll leave you with a photo of my dear sweet cat, Fiesta. She has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that she keeps me company at my desk all day long and also makes me feel loved. So there’s that.

  • 15 minute posts,  Moody Blues,  raving lunatic rant,  spilling my guts

    Stress Bubbles Over



    I wish I was blogging every day so that I could just rant away about all the things that are making me angry right now and you could laugh with me because isn’t that just how life is? We have so many ups and downs and in context of all the great things that are happening in the bigger picture, these little annoyances are just SO LITTLE. Except I haven’t been blogging much at all and I’m not very good at seeing the bigger picture and all these little annoying things do NOT feel very little in the moment!!

    Bah Humbug.

    I’ve been perking on a post in my head for a few days now. It was going to be about how I like to carry my coffee cup everywhere with me and how it spills on me sometimes at the most inopportune times but I refuse to switch to a travel mug because I think my coffee tastes yucky in it. There’s something about an open cup and the taste of glass that is about a thousand times tastier than plastic. Especially now that I’m weight-watchering and I drink my coffee with a mere reflection of milk in it and no sugar and half the time it’s cold.  I wanted to illustrate myself all mad (as I am these days more often than not) and then spill some coffee on my drawing but that didn’t work out as well as I planned when my coffee spill ran straight sideways instead of where I wanted it to go

    And then Bug walked up and said, “Why are you always mad all the time?”

    Deep Breath.

    She hit the nail on the head. I’ve been mad for a week straight I think.

    First the cancer scare (that I still need to set up ultrasound and bloodwork tests for but is most likely just in my head) then the divorce mental crap, then crying in the doctor’s office because maybe I’m pms-ing and it’s all just too much, school starting up (which is actually a good thing but new schedules are tricky) and then yesterday my car broke down and I spent the entire day dealing with that instead of cleaning my house, grocery shopping, doing laundry, getting paper and toner for my chingadero printer and otherwise enjoying my kid-free day by getting things done. Oh right, I need to make more money because my car and printer toner are SO EXPENSIVE!!

    So here it is Sunday and I feel like I’ve gotten nothing done and on top of that  I have no right to complain which makes me even madder. I have friends who have three kids or who’s husband died  who NEVER get a day off. I should be thankful that I at least get one day off. I just….why can’t I appreciate the good things I have?

    Deep breath.


    I guess I just need to check in and say, I’m in the thick of it this week. How are you?  Do you need a hug but you are too afraid to take hugs from friends because you know you’ll start crying and you don’t want to get all mushy in public? Do you rush into the bathroom and let it out quietly and then put eyedrops in so your eyes won’t be all red? Do you snap at your kids because you are trying to do five hundred things and you can’t think straight because they’ve interrupted you twenty-five times in the last minute? Do your friends text you late at night and ask you if you are ok and you tell them yes because you are sick of sounding like a complainer?  Because you know you will be okay eventually. It’s just this week, right? Things will get better. They always do.

    I’m ashamed. They say that how you act under pressure shows your true character and my true character is mad mad mad right now. I want to be gracious and pleasant and sweet. I want to share meaningful things and make people feel happier. But secretly deep down I’m a bubbling pot of stress. Not so secret actually. It’s bubbling out of my eyeballs and ears and if you interrupt me more than three times you might get burnt with my scalding temper. Poor Bug.  Why do we hurt the ones we love? Why can’t I take it out on the car dealership or the stupid service provider who likes to spam me with emails that look like invoices but are actually sales pitches? That’s a whole blog post in itself…



    So if you feel this way too. I understand.

    P.S. All of you who have been there for me this week (Teri and Kylie, my neighbors…) and these last few years (Heather, Susan, Bethany , Calee and Deb, Carrien and so many others…family too), I hope I don’t seem ungrateful. I am.

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© Brenda Ponnay