Seriously…?

~I am going to start work on, something, and this is the first part, I will move the entries to their own page eventually~

Part of me never realized just how much I was giving up, when I decided to move over 2K miles away from everything I had ever known.

All for love, for the man I married.

Idont  regret it, not in the slightest, but in my own fear of social situations, I have made a cage of my own marriage.

Its a safe cage, and I AM happy.

But…

Its on nights like this, when my husband is at work, and the kid is in bed, that I really feel isolated.

These are the nights that I dont even have the comfort of talking to my best friend via IM. Because, she, like everyone else, has a life that doesnt involve typing constantly.

People have suggested those horrid Mommy and Me group, as a way to make friends.

One problem.

I cant stand those women. You know the ones I am talking about. The ones that have nothing to else to say but what their precious little snowflake did.

I’m sure your child is a delight, but I highly doubt you think hes a perfect little angel when hes screaming his head off at 4am, and has been screaming for 3 hours, and you are just plain tired of it.

I love my kid, I really do. But there is no way in hell to be THAT tolerant of a child’s faults.

I cant stand those women, and they think I am the worst mother ever. We avoid each other like the plague.

Not being a fan of the “standard” religions, the ability to socialize at church is another thing I cant do. The idea of attending for the sake of meeting people, doesnt really mesh with me. Not that you dont make friends at church, I dont think its a good idea to go just for that.

So, there it is, my admittance.

I’m a lonely, social phobic, borderline agoraphobic married woman with a 4 year old.

And I have no idea how to fix this issue.

Maybe I should have had that zoloft refilled sooner…

©2010 Holly E. Reinsch

This is what I did while I was waiting on new parts.

I have GREAT news for once! Yay!

The kiddo’s cardiology appointment went REALLY well. Hes even more out of the woods than before!

He still has a touch of Aortic Stenois, but its dropped by half (its measured by how fast/loud the membrane it), which means as he grows it could go away on his own. YAY!

And he has finally gotten to where he can his next cardiology in two years, instead of his yearly check up. Another AWESOME thing!

And in the event of dental surgery, he no longer needs to do a round of anti-biotics as a precaution.

All in all, probably some of the best news I have heard in a long time.

Yay J-Monster!

My appointment with the eye surgeon went a bit better than I hoped. Especially considering I was so sure that he was going to order my face sliced open that day for emergency surgery.

But not today!

Yeah…

Hes ordered a CT-Scan and an Optic X-Ray (I forget the exact term for it), and once those tests are done, I will know what exactly is going to happen.

I hope.

The night before was a terrifying experiance, which involved a nice crying breakdown of truly cowardly amounts.

I threw a tantrum over the idea of going, yeah, I was that scared. It seems that each time I see a doctor lately its something awful and bizarre.

I do feel a bit relieved, a bit of research into this surgeon reveled that he is VERY skilled, I actually saw one of his patients in the waiting room, who had surgery about two weeks ago, and the facial scarring is minimal.

It was a huge weight lifted off, since I was very terrified of having horrible facial scarring. I aint that pretty, but the bits of my face are fairly nice, and I want to keep them that way.

I didnt realize just how vain I was until the terror of horrible facial scars hit me.

But, I will truck on I guess, now that its not AS scary.

Now I just have to wait for Mr. Crankypants to hurry up with reinstalling Photoshop on my machine, I have a pile of sketches that need to scanned and finished.

When my mother was little, elementry age. She heard a puzzling phrase, mentioned by the fathers of her schoolmates.

“We’re keeping up with the Jones’s.”

Which, in my mother’s child-like curiosity, prompted her to ask my grandmother, if they were also keeping up with the Jones’s, like her fellow classmates.

My grandmother’s reply, “Sweety, we ARE the Jones’s.”