Skip to main content

Mountain, meet molehill

Back when I was pregnant with my daughter (14 years ago), I had this huge fear of needles. Who am I kidding; I still do. I am (and was) deathly afraid of needles.

Now I put on my Big Lady Pants and go to the doctor, dutifully hold out my arm and wish them "good luck." Of course, every single person-whose-job-it-is-to-draw-blood swears she is "good" and will get it "first try."

And, of course, there's three or four tries, muttering, conferring with other nurses and rolled veins before they tell me to head over to the drop-by blood lab to let those ladies (who never seem to have a sense of humor) jab me with a needle.

I'll tell you this: Those no-humor ladies surely can jab. It might take one or two tries of dealing with my rolling veins, but they get it.

Anyway, I used to build up blood drawing in my head so much that my husband would take off work to escort me to the doctor to calm me down. I always made it worse by panicking and having sweaty hands and saying, "I feel sick."

I would probably get the biggest side-eye if I called him at work now and asked him to escort me to a blood draw.

I still hate blood draws and I'm still very bad at them. My hands have pools of sweat on them by the time I'm finished giving one vial. But, I'm also older now. I know getting jabbed with a needle is not the end of the world so just shut up and do it.

I say this because I've felt this way about the Internet for quite some time. I abruptly left blogging in 2008 (I think) to live my life off-line. I've built blogging and writing online up in my head as (to quote "The Help") The Terrible Awful. 

 I can't do that! It's the Terrible Awful!

 My life is slowly changing. My children are getting older. They are no longer the cute little toddlers and preschoolers of my old SJ days. They are cute and adorable on their own now but as I have a teen and an alllmmmmmooooost teen at home, my role is changing.

And? I've struggled with it. A lot.

The words have run through my head recently; run-on sentences, narrating my life and thoughts as I go throughout my day. The words bring me comfort; always have.

I just have to get over this wall I've built up in my head. The Internet and blogging are not the boogeyman. Writing gave me much solace ten, eleven, twelve years ago. I need a place to figure things out, to be ME without anyone else's agenda.

I couldn't think of a blog name. I don't have a niche. I'm not a mommyblogger or a fashion person. I'm not a food blogger or one of those ladies who decorate their homes to the nines. Heck, I'm not even a "health" or "fitness" blogger/social media person who takes nonstop pictures of herself in very skimpy underwear and puts it online.

I'm just me. I was SJ (Sarcastic Journalist; let's just get it out there and be over with it), but I'm not really anymore.

I really don't have to be anything. I just am here for the words.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Channeling My Inner Kevin Gnapoor

When my kids were very little, I had a lot of trouble functioning throughout the day. I was very young myself and having eight or nine hours with two very small people tended to throw me for a loop. I did all sorts of crazy things to keep them entertained (Painting with pine cones! Sitting outside the library and reading ALL the books we picked out! Riding bike to the pool!) but, still...that's a lot of time to kill. My husband suggested we get a schedule. Have a set plan for every day. Of course, my being the idiot that I am, I took it extremely literally. (Why I have a penchant for to interpret things in a literal sense is lost on me.) From 9 to 9:30 we play puzzles! From 9:30 to 9:45 we color! Things like that. Except...at 9:15 we were done with puzzles and the colors were missing and OH MY GOD WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE HERE. Quick, hurry kids, someone snap a picture of Mom so that she looks good in the photo that will make the news. Oh wait, no, I am still wearing a pa...
Post a Comment
Read more

Black Magic Mirror

I was the queen of short shorts in high school. Honestly, I didn't understand the concept of dress code and short lengths (to your fingertips, ladies!) and how they applied to me. Here's the rule: Your shorts had to be longer than your fingertips, plain and simple. Every single time I wore shorts to school (and every single time I got in trouble for them), I'd exclaim that "I have long arms and short legs! They don't make shorts that long!" It is true; I do have long arms and short legs. It isn't true that they do not make shorts that long. I just didn't want to wear them. Therefore, most of the time I wore jeans to school, though I had plenty of opportunities of sitting in the principal's office or getting sent home for my wardrobe. Every single one of my friends was capable of complying with the code, but not me. I always laugh when I hear the Mase (90s) song where it says, "I'm the reason they made the dress code." I smile ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Moo Moo Buckaroo

There are several things that have made me give the side eye since I've become a mother to a girl. First, there's the concept of leggings as pants. Not even the "athleisure" type of leggings; no, I'm talking about straight on I can see your pantyline run-of-the-mill cotton leggings. I know it's a thing. It still drives me nuts. The second thing is really something that has bothered me for most of my life-- the concept of aiming a product towards a woman through marketing. Seems to me, recently, that aiming towards women isn't enough; now we must market a product to certain types of women and girls.  We were at Walgreens the other day playing the never-ending game of Things We Need to Do Now That School Has Started. This round involved sports physicals. I was walking down the aisle when something caught my eye: tampons. Not just any tampons, but tampons for "athletic" girls. Would someone please tell me how a tampon could possib...
Post a Comment
Read more