the habits that I can’t break…

When i was little, (and I mean way, way little) I remember countless nights of getting ready for bed, with my grandpa. He’s swish his Listerine and challenge me to do the same. Mouth full, eyes watering I would try to tough it out, for something close to an eternity- (or probably about fourteen seconds, in reality.) After he died, sometimes I would sneak into my grandparent’s bathroom closet and take a swig of that yellow grossness- holding it until my gums ached that good ache and my gag sensor could stand it no longer… 
Now, in my thirties, I use Listerine (the blue stuff though, no yellow for us) every night. 
It’s so important and, if I somehow forget, I won’t be able to sleep until it’s done… 
I fall asleep praying. I learned this from my grandma. 
I have done it for as long as I can remember. 
I am incapable of staying quiet, when a song I love plays across the car stereo. Couple that weakness along with a road trip and it’s car karaoke all the way. I get this from my mother. Growing up, a lot of the car portion of trips were just her and I and those are the moments I remember her the fondness… 
But there are other things too. The sharp and cutting tongue when I am tired, or irritable. My lack of patience. My sometimes judgmental first responses… These come from her too, but I can not blame her for my use of them. Habit or not, influence or not- they’re up to me. 
Worry? Where do I get that? This sick inability to trust or believe that I am worthy of anything amazing happening? 
I am tired of feeling that way. 
I want trust to be my first instinct. 
I want peace of mind and optimism to weigh in there too… 
I don’t want to be a doubting cindy, heavy on the side of negative nancy. 
I want to be me. 
But better. Wiser. Calmer. Less worried… 
I guess the bright side is- I should always wake up with great breath.  
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Na na na, hey hey hey…

This could be me. 
Seriously. 
These days, stress is my first, middle, last and maiden names- or at least it feels that way. 
Hi. My name is Misty and I am stressed out. 
Hi Misty..
You guys, I do not handle stress well. I think my model either has a malfunctioning “throw it from your mind” button, or I just have serious operator error issues… 
You see, there is this little novel I wrote, which I couldn’t STOP editing… I became like an obsessed machine. And then, I did stop, and took a few days off. Yay me… BUT- now I can’t seem to get back to it… And I REALLY need to, by friday. 
And then, there is the matter of this other situation. Potentially HUGE situation… And I should just cast it to the side, trust that it will all workout and go about my days and my monotonous editing… BUT I CAN’T… It is like a virus, eating away my brain. 
STRESS… 
So yeah… I just had to tell someone that I am STRESSING OUT… 
And if I you are a prayer, I/we could use some… 
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Some days…

Some days you wake up fairly upbeat but barely make it to your doorway before life tries to beat you up. 
Some days you open the dryer to find wet sheets, from five days ago, that your 13 year old “forgot to start”… 
Some days your feelings get hurt, even when you are pretty sure the other someone didn’t mean to hurt you. 
Some days are hot, and your allergies are consuming and your head hurts because the air pressure is changing. 
On those days, you might lay down for a nap, in an effort to help your headache. 
On that day, an absolutely amazing thunder and rain storm will come through your neck of the woods and you will sleep through the entire thing, only to wake up congested and sorely disappointed. 
And the dogs won’t stop barking… 
And the wind will blow your fence down… 
And the dogs will run away… 
And you will have a dozen different calls to (and from) your attorney… 
And you might (if you are me) realize your friend quantity is sorely lacking (in the personal reference variety). 
It is on these days that dinner will be the furthest thing from your mind, and the nearest thing on your family’s. And so it’s on an evening such as this, when an old fashioned Poor Man’s Hash will have to suffice- (complete with hot dogs {GAG!}, potatoes, garlic, red onion, grape tomatoes and fresh green peas.) 
If your luck is as good as mine, your husband will spend the whole of dinner prep, dinner, and post dinner hour(s) on a conference call where the very whole of your future could hang on the brink of. 
And it leaves you to have to clean the stainless steel skillet that has a lovely crust of hashed up goodness, all alone. 
And all at once you realize you are now behind on three major freelance assignments and today, the boldest thing you did was fold some laundry and scrub an icky dryer. 
THANK GOD that every day is not a some day, or at least not this kind anyway… 
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Water your lawns, ya’ll…

I am stuck, headphones in my ear, in a 90’s funk. Nothing like the soothing, when life was simpler, nostalgia of a little Goo Goo Dolls, Savage Garden and Blind Melon. 
I have been hairline deep in a writing deadline, and it seemed the only times I would come up for air would be to deal with kid drama. 
You know, the kind where your kid is exceptionally self destructive and there seems to be a million different non-solutions but no actual ones. Except for the one we’re trying, anyway, which involves a whole lot of “So what?” and secretly I really like it. It also involves more constructive uses of her time. We’ll see… 
Anyway, back to my 90’s funk. 
Here’s the thing, life sucked in the 90’s. 
Every few months I was hospitalized, in surgery or having a miscarriage. 
My family all but ostercized me, for one reason or another. 
I became a foster parent and was on my way to adopting two twin girls that I adored, when they were ripped from my heart due to a loop hole. 
We were young and broke. 
I had the confidence of a mud puddle. 
My husband left me for another woman. 
And those are honestly just the highlights of suckage… 
And yet, a song can come on the radio or playlist, and my heart can swell with nostalgia. 
Suddenly I can think about that time that one boy sang me that one song. 
I can remember how great that ridiculously large Italian soda tasted on hot august days, or how amazing that beach summer, full of first love was. 
Somehow memory filters the complete psychoticness of the singing boy, the horrible cream belly ache of the soda and the unbelievable heart shattering of the post-beach summer. 
Are we wired to want anything that is not right now? 
To remember the past with admiration and fondness, or to stare off into the future in the hopes of a plusher green grass to press our toes to… 
I don’t know… I just know that though the nineties currently play on, in my ears, I am going to borrow a little wisdom from someone who is here RIGHT NOW- (well not “here” as much as here…)
“The grass ain’t always greener on the other side, 
it’s green where you water it.”
             ~ Big Sean (in Justin Bieber’s As Long As You Love Me.)
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