Only Nola

New Year, Same Shit

Well, another year is wrapping up. This year's been exponentially better than the last one, but of course there has been the usual glut of obstacles to overcome. Such a visual word, 'glut'. I won't tell you what it makes me think of. Anyway. I'm hoping 2004 was a trendsetter, and 2005 will see even more improvements in my life and that of my family. With this in mind, I figured it was time for some New Year's resolutions:

1.) I will not go to Atlanta and choke my ex-husband with his own intestines. Now, to some people this might seem obvious, but really, having dealt with him as long as I have and being owed as much money as I am, it's really NOT. One has to reiterate this every SINGLE day. Making it a resolution might makes it more official.

2.) I will not move to Mexico and change my name to Senora Frijoles. This is, of course, one way of avoiding Providian, since, thanks to the aforementioned ex, they want my ass on a plate. Some days it's a very attractive way, other days I remember how attached I am to indoor plumbing and the English language. The thought of giving up little creature comforts like drinkable water made this resolution a lot easier than one might think.

3.) I will not stick sharp implements in the ear of the next client that gets on my nerves. As satisfying as the visual may be, I have a sneaking suspicion that something involving handcuffs and becoming someone's bitch would follow, and that's really something I can live the REST of my life without. Even if I managed to avoid prison, I think the possibility of keeping my job would pretty much be down the proverbial toilet. Go figure.

4.) I will not rip the vocal cords out of my husband's cat with a pair of needle nosed pliers. This one will require great restraint...

5.) I will not make reference to the possibility of me throwing myself in traffic more than twice a week. I've discovered that anything over twice and it loses it's effectiveness and ability to paralyze people with fear. Fear is a highly underrated motivator.

I might think of more later, but that's at least enough to get me through the next week, give or take. Or so we all hope...

What the Hell?

You know, I think I'm going to have to give up on figuring out why I do the things I do. After much psychotherapy, self analysis, and heavy drinking, I'm no closer to having the answers than I was five years ago. Maybe closer than I was TEN years ago, but... progress has come to a dead halt.

Take Christmas. PLEASE take Christmas! No, seriously. Christmas rolls around, same time every year, regular as clockwork. Right? So you'd think by now I'd have made some headway on the whole 'how to not drive myself insane' issue. But nooooooooo... I'm still effectively hitting myself in the face with a hammer. How am I doing this, you ask? Well, it's a long story, but to make it relatively short, every year I try and make an impression on my oldest son by what I can buy him for Christmas. Now, the sad fact is that I KNOW this is not supposed to be the POINT of Christmas, and I KNOW that buying him these things doesn't mean that I love him any more than at any other time of year, but I get caught in this vicious cycle of trying to keep up, at least once a year, with people I simply canNOT keep up with, giftwise. It's no one's fault but my own that I fall into this trap. See, my oldest son lives with my first husband and his wife. Good people. I love my son's step-mom to death. She's great. BUT. The fact is that they are much more financially able to do for him than I am, and I let myself feel like I suffer by comparison due to this small fact. At Christmas... well, at ANY time of year, they can do for him things I'd LIKE to but can't. I'm glad they can provide these things. I truly am. But I can't help but fall victim to the human emotion of guilt sometimes, knowing that I, his mother, can offer him so much less, materially. I love him dearly, and I hope he knows that, but society being as commercial as it is, I start taking the marketing bait and thinking of myself as 'less than' because I can only PROVIDE 'less than'.

*sighs*

I am now officially committed to smacking myself around, thoroughly, if I do this to myself again next year. I have to accept that I can only do what I can do, and that he's got to accept that it doesn't mean I don't love him if I have financial limits. When I was young and went to visit my dad for holidays, we were lucky if he left the house with us, much less got up off his recliner. He didn't do the shopping for my gifts, he sent his wife to do it. So, in comparison, maybe I should feel like my son is lucky. We take him to eat, to the mall, to the park *when weather permits*, to the zoo, etc., and try and make his trips here as fun as we can. Then again, maybe that's the problem. We spend so much time trying to make his visits 'special', that maybe we've made him immune to what his visits really SHOULD be about, which is visiting with his family. That's a thought. Seems like my husband may have mentioned this once or twice. *coughs* I won't give him the satisfaction of thinking he was right about something, so we'll just keep this between us. sshhhh....