Death by Utility

     Sometimes you just have to laugh it off.  This is one of those cases, but it's okay to laugh it off with flare :D

   I can not begin to explain the pain and suffering the phone company has brought down upon this house.  My husband has spent more time on the phone with them in the past 2 days then he has with me in the past 2 years.  They have had him yelling, near crying, maniacally laughing and in a near coma several times.  He has talked personally with each and every department  employee in several countries world wide (I think he learned a new language?!)  He has begged, threatened and bartered-  still, the service is horrible.  They have messed up our bill at least twice a month (how does that even happen?)  They have made promises to come fix wires, then forget to put the order in for days in a row, and never show up.   Reception is spotty at best (when there was any at all) and their lack of coordination reflects their lack of commitment to their company.  I shouldn't tell you who it is, but I can say that A company should be Trustworthy & Technically sound, not annoyingly unorganized.

    That being said, what can I do with the negative feelings I have stored up about said company?...  I can fantasize about revenge!   My mind is a place that I can entertain scenarios where my bad feelings have an outlet in order to  heal (but just for the record, these are just FANTASIES, they are in my mind, just for me!...................... oh, and apparently you.)

* May every load of whites that each employee washes will have a red shirt in it.  May all of their underwear be forever pink, and not that cute kind of pink.

*May there be slugs enough for each of them in the Waldorf salad at the next company picnic.

*May there always be toilet paper stuck to their shoe.

*May their tires  slowly lose air.

*May their pendulum clocks always squeak.

*May their children always whine about wanting candy.

*May their paycheck always be late.

*May they get ants.

*May they always have a wild hair sticking out of their nose, no matter how much they trim, tuck or pluck.

* May their fridge always be too cold, their freezer too warm.

*May a neighborhood dog  take a dump on each and every one of their lawns every morning, and may the dead spot on their grass spell out "crappy service."

*Whenever they need a penny at the gas station, may the "take a penny leave a penny" jar be empty.

and finally:

*May their sexual service to their spouses not exceed the Internet service that they provided to me.  May the same goes for their deodorant.

Now, do I feel better?  Maybe a little.  I am no longer angry and had a little laugh.  It's my own personal therapy, and in general is harmless.  In all honestly, I don't harbor any ill will to any of them personally,  and I wish them happiness and joy forever after...but a big "no thank you" to working with them in the future.  A person can only be expected to handle so much!

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PAIN

I have no idea how I am doing this.  Honestly, I don't know how I get up and do this everyday.  I know it seems mellow-dramatic, but living in pain is really hard.  You would think if I was a dog or a horse they would have long since put me down.. but here I am .  Still working at it (life) through the pain.  smiling through the agony.  Going through the motions.  If anyone could even fathom the half of it, I would surely get an award.

What am I like?  I am difficult, sometimes whining, sometimes crying.  Usually always grateful (although I don't always show it.)  I am miserable, I am thankful, I cherish things more, I sleep too much.  I often feel misjudged.  I feel alone.

Sometimes I yell at my kids when they do tiny little things wrong.  I get annoyed easily (due to the pain.)  but I see the future in these kids and soak up every little drop of good because they are my only hope.  I tell them how much I love them and I explain how I can't be the mom I want to be for them.  They have to do more things for themselves than some other kids, while the guilt eats away at my guts.

I am angry.  People can't see my pain or need and they carry on as normal without me. (Um hello, can't you see me struggling here?)  Either I keep up or I'm out.   I guess I don't look sick?  I realize they have lives of their own, but I am sad that I don't fit into them anymore.  Perhaps we weren't as close/I wasn't as important to them as I thought I was.  I mourn those losses.  I am bitter sweet.  I am deeply hurt.  I am probably asking too much.

I need help.  I need even more help.  I need more help than I am getting.  I have lost dignity.  I am uncomfortable.  I am aging too fast.  I am anxious and afraid.  I watch the years tick by and I cry for the waste.  I can't keep up.  I miss everyone.  Especially myself.  I miss the sex I used to have.  I miss the clean house I once had.  I miss the job I used to have.  I miss the friends I used to have.  I miss the life I used to have.. but mostly I miss the control I used to have.  Control over the ability to change it all.

Pain is an evil robber.  It steals all the good things in life and leaves a person broken.  It's a persons solitary torment that no will ever understand.  No one can ever feel your pain, and your very struggle is a solo act that puts you in a production that you never wanted to be a part of.  Then suddenly you realize that you are no longer a major player, you are but an extra who is being fazed out.  Your mortality comes crashing down on top of you and you stop making long term plans.  You realize better than anyone how temporary this life is.  You stop caring about the stupid things and see what is really important.  God really gets your attention using pain, he knows how to get the job done.

So, why do I continue everyday?  Because.  I love my kids, I love my husband.  I love life.  I like the smell of snow.  I like the way the water sparkles when the moonlight strikes it.  I like chocolate.  Sex (although less adventurous) still feels good.  When a breeze off the lake catches my hair I still feel exhilarated.   Because I know that God wants me to.  He wants me to get up and write a stupid blog so that other people who hurt will know they aren't alone.  He wants me to pray for people even LESS FORTUNATE than myself, and sadly, there are many.

I will keep getting out of bed in the morning.  Yes, I will whine.  Yes, I will cry sometimes, but I will still hope for better times because hope is a part of faith and I have to hold on to my faith (or maybe faith has a hold on me.)  One way or another I will get through this, and when that last day comes I will probably still not know what it was all about, but I hope I did my best and I hope that it was enough.