I Hurted Mah-Self

I hurted mah-self doing the twerk.

Twerk much?

Too much.

My friend asked me to fill in for her and teach her twerking class over the weekend. Did you know there was such a thing as a twerking class? I did not right up until that moment. I've taught a bit of twerking in my strip dance class, but I didn't know you could take a class specifically for twerking. That was a new one, even for me...

Even though I was in no mood to be teaching a dance class after the last few days I've had, I can't really pass up any work right now so I took off my big girl clothes and went to work (see what I did there, with the joke...with the play on a common phrase...)

I learned something in class yesterday.

I learned that twerking for a few minutes is much different than twerking for an hour straight.

I think I broke my lower back.

I'll Worry About It Tomorrow

I've been overwhelmed with emails from people wondering how court went today. First of all, thank you. Thank you so much for caring.

Today was a rough day.

I went to court and thankfully my Ex was not there. Nevertheless I spent a good majority of it acting like a bumbling idiot. I sat near a window and just tried my best to focus on what was going on outside (absolutely nothing. In 45 mins I didn't even see a bird. I saw a woman cross the street at one point, but that was it) and keep my mind off of what was going on inside the courtroom.

At least by the window it didn't feel like the room was closing in on me.

At one point Mr. Attorney Man took me into the hallway to go over some paperwork and as he was talking to me, I just felt like I was a million miles away. He was talking and all I was hearing was the mom from Charlie Brown saying "whomp whomp whompwhomp whomp."

I was trying to listen to what he was saying, to process what he was telling me, but I felt like I had static running through my brain.

You guys I felt SO stupid. I just wanted to cry.

Mr. Attorney Man and I had a meeting a week or two ago and we talked for literally three hours. He asked me a few times if I wanted to take notes and I was like "nah, I'm cool," and I was. Two weeks later and I can easily rattle off every sentence that was spoken verbatim.

This morning I didn't even feel like I could speak English.

Another Edition Of: True Stories In The Operating Room

The last time we chatted about medical procedures I told you about the time I got an epidural line threaded into my ass cheek while a herd of medical students watched, so today I thought I would tell you about what happened after that.

**If you did not read the post "True Stories From The Operating Room," I suggest you read that post before continuing on with this one**

Now for those of you that are just jumping into this story, I had some major surgery on my feet several years ago which consisted of sawing my heel off, moving it over half an inch, and reattaching it with a really big freaking screw. The docs then placed two three inch screws through the top joints, two one inch screws in the arch joint, packed the joints with cadaver bone to fuse them permanently, and then cut out three of my tendons and reattached them elsewhere. Oh yea and they shredded lengthened my Achilles tendon which is the large tendon that runs from your heel up the back of your leg.

 Yup, that's what it looks like to have your heel sawed off and screwed back on

So eight hours later I woke up from that freak show (twelve hours since I had checked into the hospital that morning), and the Dr. released me into the arms of my loving overly annoyed and utterly inconvenienced husband.

My then husband was so incredibly angry that the surgery had taken so long that he actually got into a fight with the hospital staff while I was still being filleted open on the operating table (like a real fight, like they threatened to call the police and everything). He got into a fight with them because he told them he was leaving and they told him he needed to stay, seeing as how he was my ride home and all.

Yep, I'm having my bones broken and drilled and my lovely husband wants to go home for lunch.

I Have A Surprise For You...

It's Monday!

This is what I woke up to this morning (well technically I woke up to this "yesterday" morning, this post was written at like 2am Monday morning):

A little man standing on my bed while he exclaimed "look how big my muscles are!"

As much as I like the weekends, I also like Mondays. I mean really, there are only so many ridiculous and incessant questions that any single human being can answer before they need a break.

Allow me to explain.

This Is Not Fair!!

((Sigh))

So I figured that I owed you all an explanation as to why the blog has been a bit funky for the past couple of weeks. Less posts, longer time for my comment replies, and oh the typos. (Yup, even Mr. Attorney Man sent me an email about how many typos I have had lately and detailed exactly what they were. Thank you Mr. Attorney Man and for once I'm not even being sarcastic).

Things have been a little bit rough around here (to say the least) and it's really been wearing on me. I've hesitated to really delve into much of it because I feel like if I even begin to explain what has been going on, that I'm just going to come off as bitchy and whiny and that is exactly what I don't want. Oh yea and every time I talk about this topic I get heavily trolled and to be quite blunt, I've had just about as much trolling and hacking as I can handle these days.

But at the same time I promised to make this an open dialogue and I can't do that if I'm refusing to talk about a very real subject that affects many people in situations like mine.

So here, let me start by telling you what we are not going to be talking about today. We are not going to be talking about how my heart is still quite troubled over the break-up with Philosophy Man; not so much for the loss of him as for the reality check that I got in "dating with children" in the wake of his departure.

We are also not going to talk about how close to death one of my biological family members suddenly and tragically came about two weeks ago, which had me frantically wondering if I would forever regret the choices that I had made in disowning them and then left me wondering if there was a special place in hell for me because I still stand by my decision. Or if there was an even special-er place for me because I occupied my time by selfishly wondering if should this person actually not survive, should I, or would I even be allowed to go to the funeral? Would I even want to? Would I regret not going? Would my family murder me if I didn't go? Would they murder me if I showed up? Is it wrong to be stressing about this while someone is clinging to life? Does that make me a horrible person in and of itself? Should I just go to the hospital? Am I like karmatically required to go to the hospital? But wait, have I been put on some kind of list that the hospital has of "people who are not allowed to visit said person in the hospital?"

I HAVE NO IDEA. WHERE IS THE MANUAL FOR THIS KIND OF THING???

But nope, we aren't going to talk about that because it's such a mess in my head right now that I just can't even go there. 

And hey, we already talked about the whole stalker/stolen mail/rape report situation on Wednesday so we don't need to cover that again.

Nope, we aren't talking about any of those things today, because today we are talking about....

Money.

Yes, brace yourselves people, we are going to talk about finances today.

I Need Some Advice!

I have a memory like a steel trap.

In fact those are the exact words that I said in an email earlier this week to Mr. Attorney Man and I said them because they are true. If you say something to me, if we go somewhere, if we see something, I'm going to remember it. I'm going to remember it down to the way your head was tilted and the shirt that you were wearing. I'm going to remember it by the way the room felt or the glances from the people walking by. I don't simply just remember things, I re-live the memory.

I've often wondered about this memory of mine because I am keenly aware that it is not the norm. I remember things that no one else does and I remember it in such detail that I literally feel like I've pulled it out of a filing cabinet and am watching the memory on film in my brain. Because I am a nerd I have spent quite a bit of time wondering why my memory is the way that it is and the conclusion that I've come to is that I am simply more present in the moment than most people. I mean sure, I could be some kind of super genius or something, but the more likely answer is that after years of abuse (and several years of stalking) I have learned to be hyper aware of my surroundings. When you spend your life living like a prey animal, you learn to take note of the details. Have you ever watched a rabbit outside? Sure they are eating, munching on some grass, but you can tell that they are vitally aware of every. single. thing. that is going on around them because they know that they are milliseconds away from being snatched up by a hawk.

That's kind of how I feel.

You Never Noticed Me

The visions can be illusions, the truth hidden by a mirage. 

What is, isn't always what is, what was, isn't always what was.

The memories trick, the photos mislead, the things you saw were lies, 

because what was really happening was hidden from your eyes.

You saw me growing up, you saw me as I grew, 

but the life that I was leading was a life you never knew.

The things you saw were fronts while the truth was hidden away,

the memories you have of me were of a truth that went astray.

I played along with what you knew,

 partaking in your view

of a life I wasn't leading, 

my only life you knew.

I'm older now and looking back I see where things went wrong,

because every time you saw me I would simply play along.

I wanted the life you thought I had,

I wanted it so bad,

that I spent my precious years of youth

desperately hiding you from the truth.

I'm older now and looking back my heart is filled with pain,

because everything I hid from you was nothing I would gain.

In my naivety I thought that if I let you see 

only what I wanted to that somehow I'd be free.

It didn't matter what I wanted it would simply never be,

because what I needed most was for you to notice me.

Sometimes the kids that need us to notice them the most,
 are the ones who are trying the hardest not to be seen.

Stop Child Abuse

Look for what you aren't seeing in the things they just aren't showing you.

Photo

There Was Definitely Screaming

I DROVE ON THE EXPRESSWAY!!!!!

I'm telling you, I wasn't kidding when I said I was determined to get over this fear of mine! Thankfully my friends were all in when I told them about project "Helping Eden Get Over Her Absolutely Ridiculous Fears" and so off we went, to tackle my fears and create nightmares.

A few weeks ago my Platonic Husband drove me to the city to see a musical at one of the theatres. In case you didn't know this, not only do I not drive on expressway, but aside from doctor appointments where I am dropped off and picked up at the doors of my destination, I also don't do the city. By not "doing the city" I basically mean that all those wonderful miles of happiness and joy can just go fuck themselves because that's where all the scary shit lives and I don't want to be anywhere near it.

To say that I was nervous about venturing where the scary shit lives into the city would be the understatement of the century. I spent weeks talking myself off the ledge of insanity and eventually I became ok with the idea that in my delusional mind we were simply going to park inside the theatre, see the show, pull out, and teleport ourselves home.

Needless to say that did not happen.

My Aunt Wants My Mother To See My Children

My aunt called me last night.

"Eden. I'm going to ask you something and I just want to ask, so just listen for a minute and I'm just asking."

That sentence structure right there was a big fat warning that I wasn't going to like whatever she was about to "just ask me."

".........uh.......oooooooooookkkkkaaaaayyyyyy" was what slowly and cautiously crept out of my mouth.

"I was thinking you should drop the kids off at my house so that your parents can see them. It would be a safe and neutral location where I would be supervising them and you wouldn't even have to see your parents."

I know it was just an honest question but even hearing those words enraged me to a point where I was actually gripping the side of my counter top in an effort to not turn around and run my head into a wall.

She just doesn't get it!

There was a long pause. A pause so long that after what honestly must have been a full minute or two she finally got up the nerve to ask me a question that she already knew the answer to. "Eden, did you hear me?"

YES I DID HEAR YOU. I'M JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW I CAN WORD ALL OF THIS ANGER INTO SOMETHING APPROPRIATE AND GROWN-UP LIKE THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

The Hack

Oh my gosh, I do not want to talk about the trolls anymore!!! I'm so over the trolls but I know that a lot of you are waiting to hear about what happened in regards to Saturdays post about the hack, and the hack was initiated by someone trying to figure out more about my real life identity, so here we go again.

Come, join me under the bridge.

So....the hack.

Well I was able to trace it back and to my surprise, it wasn't stemming from the "Answers" post, that's just what they used as a pathetic cover. It actually stemmed from this article "Don't Pretend Your Kid Has Allergies And Be Surprised When Other Parents Hate You." That article was written by a blogger named Maria Guido in response to an article that I had written that ran on the homepage of Yahoo (and before that on YourTango).

Homepage of Yahoo!! Yay! Right?

Except that when articles run on Yahoo it's not atypical for other bloggers to want in on the discussion as well and so to do that they write a rebuttal post. It's fine, tons of writers do it, I've done it, it's not abnormal, except for when they mislead.

To fit her agenda Maria edited my original article to completely change my point. She quoted me in a long paragraph saying that "I cringe when I see other kids eating a cupcake" but "forgot" to leave in the entire point of that sentence, "that I realize my judgments are wrong and I should not be making them."

Basically she portrayed me as a complete bitch just so she could write a rebuttal post.

And?

Her readers called her on it.

Which is unusual because readers tend to be very loyal.

So I popped into the comments over there, chatted with some of the readers, and then it started; the trolling. I won't say who it was but I have my suspicions, which were even more confirmed by a posting that was put on GOMI this afternoon by a 1st time commentor urging people to go look at the article on Mommyish that "one of our bloggers put up about Eden." 

*COUGH*  *COUGH*  Eh Hem.