Giving the finger

Fuck you depression. Just fuck you.

Crazy Train

Where does depression hurt? Right fucking here, damn it!

Hi! My name is Mimi LaRue and I "suffer" from depression. I have been for more than 20 years. In my teens and early 20's this presented itself with many thoughts of suicide. Thankfully I didn't actually act on those thoughts. In my early to mid 20's depression manifested itself in...let's just call it "risky behavior." In my late 20's I broke up with the love of my life and married someone equally as fucked up as myself. When I had my son I saw that my life wasn't just about me anymore and found it much easier to fight through the rough times. I had something to focus on to keep my mind busy. When I lost my daughter, I chose to use that loss to make positive changes in my life and not allow it to bring me down further. My outlook changed. During the next few years, I divorced my baby daddy, moved back to my hometown (which really is a step backwards for me since I really don't like living here), reconnected with the love of my life, got married to him, bought a house, and had a little girl. All's well, right?

Despite everything being so wonderful in my life, depression can still weigh me down. Unlike when I was a teenager, I understand that it's not that I'm feeling worthless or unloved. It's my fucking brain chemistry. Oh...over the past 20 years or so, I've tried antidepressants and anti anxiety meds. The anti anxiety meds usually rock. But the antidepressants really don't help at all. For me they make me not give a fuck about anything. No joy, no sadness, nothing. I could win a bazillion dollars and be like "meh." That's not what I want out of life. And, I've never understood why one of the possible side effects of antidepressants is "thoughts of suicide." Fuck...that's why I was on this shit to begin with...so how exactly is it helping? Anyway, so I have chosen not to take the medicinal route to deal with my depression.

On top of this, I am manic. This means that literally I could be coming out of my skin happy and over the top full of joy and bursting at the seems and bouncing around (you get the picture) for a period of time...could be a few minutes, could be a few hours...typically it's been a few weeks or even months, then I "hit bottom." I crash. As overjoyed as I was is as miserable and unable to function as I become. It's frustrating for those around me. Hell, it's frustrating for me.

I am in one of those manic down periods right now. I've been trying hard to get up and exercise for the past week. Instead, I get up before the alarm goes off and reset the alarm for a later time...as late as I can get by with and still make it to work on time. In the evening when I get home, I'm so exhausted that I really have a difficult time dealing with either of my kids. I just want to be left alone. I have to push myself to make sure everyone is fed, bathed, homework is completed and checked, studying is completed, etc. All I want to do when I get home is crawl in bed. Last night I fell asleep laying across the bed all wonky like and woke up many hours later. I was only able to do this because my husband was home.

Just getting out out bed is a humongous chore. Caring about anything...well, it's difficult. If someone gets angry with me or snaps at me, honestly I'm less likely to battle it out with them simply because it's just not worth it to me right now. I'd just rather move away from that person and be by myself...because I just don't care and in the grand scheme of things it doesn't really matter. It's not that I don't WANT to do things, I just don't have it in me to do them. If I didn't have a job and kids I would literally stay in bed for days at a time. Thankfully I have the presence of mind to come to work and take care of my kids. I still retain the logical part of myself that understands that my brain chemistry is fucked up and I will eventually "feel" better. I know that if I can FORCE myself to exercise, I will very likely start feeling better. It really is true that exercise is good for the mind as well as the body.

For the moment, however, I really just don't give a fuck about much of anything.

The Cat's in the Cradle

The time of the bitter divorce and pitting kids against the other parent is past. The time of tearing each other apart because you can't stand to be married...or in the same room together is past. If parents make the decision to divorce, the children should not have to suffer more simply because one or the other other or both parents are too selfish and childish to suck it up and get along with the other parent FOR THE CHILD'S SAKE.

It is in the child's best interest that parents not only get along, but that they also communicate. In my own situation, my child's father and I had a wonderful co-parenting relationship for a while. We were able to call each other anytime and give information pertaining to our child. We were able to make decisions together concerning our child. We put our child's needs first and any issues we had with each other stayed on the back burner. Our child was so much better for it. We provided a united front.

Well, that was in the beginning. What has transpired since that time has been painful and heartwrenching for my son. My son's father remarried. No big deal, right. I had met at least one of his previous girlfriends and didn't think that there would be any major changes in our co-parenting relationship when he remarried. Heck, I was remarried and we still managed to maintain an open line of communication when it came to our son.

This is no longer the case.

This man's entire demeanor and personality changed when he met this woman. He is completely unrecognizable now. He has become rude, mean, callous, and puts his and his wife's needs ahead of his child's best interests. I used to call to tell him of conversations I had with my son's teachers or doctors. But, since this woman entered his life, I have been told not to call. I have always made sure that my child had a gift for his father for holidays, birthdays, Father's Day, etc. I was told "we'll take care of getting each other gifts from him from now on." This statement I have ignored. I am my child's mother and I will make sure that he has a gift for his father. When my ex and his wife make plans to take our son out of town, I ask questions that EVERY parent has a right to know BEFORE his or her child is taken out of town. Where will he be staying? May I get the telephone numbers and addresses of where he will be staying? How long will he be staying? Will he be at the same place for the entire vacation? What is the airline information? Etc. I don't think it's too intrusive to ask for this information. This is my child and I should know how to reach him and where he is. When my husband and I take my son out of town, I provide all of this information to his father prior to leaving and without having to be asked. I feel it is common courtesy. However, this actually became a problem before one of their vacations to California. I asked repeatedly for weeks for the information via telephone, in person, voicemail, and email. The day before they were to leave on their trip, a mere hours before my ex was supposed to pick my son up from me I finally called him and told him that if I didn't have the information I requested, our son would not be going on the trip.

My ex made it abundantly clear that I was not to communicate with him in anyway, shape, or form anymore.

My son has been telling me more and more frequently that he does not like staying at his dad's house and that he really doesn't want to go. He says he enjoys spending time with his dad, but that he would rather just see him for a few hours and then come back home (my house). My son (without prompting from me) tells me that his dad doesn't listen to a thing he says. He tells me that when he asks about going to Cub Scout meetings, his dad will tell him that they will be going to visit relatives and then when the time comes, they don't go anywhere.

I have always encouraged my son to have a good relationship with his father, even after his father and I could no longer communicate with each other. When he brings his concerns to me, I've told him that he needs to discuss it with his father. What else can I do? I've been told by lawyers that as long as my son isn't being abused, then what goes on when he is with his father is "not my business." That seems so wrong to me. I am his parent. It is my business to know what goes on when my son is with his father just as much as it's his father's business to know what goes on when my son is with me. But, the few times I have tried to discuss anything with my son's father, I was dismissed. My concerns fall on deaf ears.

All that I can hope for now is that as my son gets older he will feel more comfortable expressing his concerns to his father. The problem is that his father is laying down such dysfunctional groundwork that when my son does come out of his shell, it's going to be to tell his dad that he wants nothing to do with him. He's damaging his relationship with his son for the sake of his wife. One day my son's father is going to want to talk to his son. He's going to want to offer advice. He's going to want to be there. But, the possibility exists that it will be too late then.

Happy Happy Birthday...

Today would have been my dad's 68th birthday. He's been gone for a little over 5 months.

My dad was a great man. Of course he had his faults. Absolutely wasn't perfect. Who is? But he was a perfect dad to me. He gave of himself to anyone that needed him. This man worked 3 jobs to take care of our family. He raised money for various causes. He gave money to family and friends that needed it. In fact, in my opinion my dad was taken advantage of by the very family and friends that he helped. But he was too good a person to say anything.


He lent quite a bit of money to at least 2 brothers that I am aware of. Apparently they don't get that borrowing means paying back at some point. These family members never even attempted to pay him back. His whole family have always looked upon us as not needing the money...like we were rich. Where the fuck were they when he worked 3 jobs to pay bills? Where the fuck were they when our family had to cut back on our budget? You know, my parents borrowed money and PAID IT BACK!!!! My dad gave cars (used, but hey they were free to the people he gave them to), and bought items for some members to sell in their business. Did my dad expect to be repaid? No. He was doing all of it out of the kindness of his heart...even when it caused struggles at home...financially and otherwise.


Today, on my dad's birthday I've discovered how little his family regards my dad and once again discovered that my mother and I will never be considered a part of their family. First, the person that has power of attorney over my uncle made sure that HIS children receive things from my uncle...including a house (A HOUSE THAT I FUCKING LIVED IN AND HAD AN EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT TO) and a vehicle. Now sure...my cousin is assuming a note and at some point $90,000 will be exchanged...$45k will pay off the note. That means that there will be another $45k. Who the hell will be getting that? I guaranfuckingtee that not a penny will come my way. They have divided up all of my uncles possessions and what little money he has without considering that my dad's part should come to my mother and me...or if they hate my mother so much....just me as I am a blood member of this family. Oh...and guess what! They are dividing my uncle's belongings up and he's not even dead. He's in a home. Not one of them visits. Seriously, he'd be better off if one of them just shot him in the head and got it over with.

Same people told my mom that they wanted the shotgun my dad had only days after he died...and they hadn't so much as spoken to my mother or me to express condolences.


Am I angry? Yes. I'm angry and extraordinarily hurt that my FAMILY doesn't consider me part of their family and are so eager to assume my dad's portion of ANYTHING. My dad did more for my uncle that any of these other people did.


I am embarrassed. I am hurt. And I am pissed.


They have taken antique picture frames that belonged to my grandparents and SOLD THEM! They are taking china cabinets and other nice things that mean nothing to them. They are just going to sell them or give them to their kids that won't appreciate them and will destroy them.


I keep typing like I'm actually going to be able to express what I'm feeling and it just isn't going to be sufficiently expressed.


Dad, I love you. I miss you. I know that you are pissed right now about what they are doing...both to your little brother and to your wife and daughter. I had hoped that your family could honor your memory by coming together to take care of family. But they are still only taking care of themselves. This is not at all what your life was about.

2009 I Hate to See You Leave, But I Love to Watch You Go

2009 has not been the kindest year. 2009 had promise there for a while. The first half of the year brought with it bitter realizations and then soaringly high hopes stregnthened with a resolve of steel. I discovered acting was not only an amazing outlet, but also that I truly enjoyed it and looked forward to each and every class. I've overcome quite a few fears this year.


The second half of the year was vastly different. We experienced intense loss and grief when my father died. I keep being drawn into crazyville because some are having extreme difficulty accepting the loss. My husband was extremely ill and spent several days in the hospital for a still undiagnosed problem. My daughter has been ill since for nearly 3 months and the doctors have not yet been able to determine the cause.


2009 has been the kind of year that you definitely will not look back and remember it fondly.

So, 2009, you bitch. You took from us. You knocked us down over and over again without giving us a chance to even catch our breath. I will not miss you. I hope you die a thousand painful deaths.

Shuffle off the buffalo and buffle off the shuffle-o

My dad died September 14, 2009. To say that he had been in bad health would be an understatement. Just in the past couple of years he had gotten so bad that he couldn't walk without a great deal of assistance, and even then he fell down a lot. Congestive heart failure, really bad diabetes, high blood pressure, about 59% kidney function, hardening of the arteries, and a host of other maladies. He had been in a great deal of pain over the past few weeks. His hip and his legs gave him excruciating pain.


Still, with all of his pain and all of his illnesses, my dad didn't want anyone to worry about him. He wanted to help others. He would give away the shirt off his back to help someone in need. He worried about his younger brother who has been in the hospital now for about 6 weeks. None of his other brothers gave a damn about the youngest. They would let him rot in the hospital and not so much as feel an ounce of guilt.


My dad worked hard all of his life. When I was a child, my dad worked 3 jobs to make sure that our family was taken care of and to make sure that I had opportunities available to me that I may not have had otherwise. Both of my parents instilled in me a strong work ethic. I learned that it was important to work to take care of your family. I learned the importance of being there for family regardless of past hurts or disagreements. Family should always be there for one another.


My dad used to drive me to preschool and kindergarten with the windows down. We'd sing Old Man River and he'd sing loud and boisterously and people in the other cars would stare at us. I'd get so embarrassed that I'd slide down in my seat so no one could see me, but I'd be giggling all the while. "TOTE THAT BARGE! LIFT THAT BALE! IF YOU DRINK A LITTLE SCOTCH YOU'RE GONNA LAND IN JAIIIIILLLLLL!"

Then when he pulled up in front of my school I'd open the door to get out and he'd say "Shuffle off the buffalo and buffle off the shuffle-o." Every time. I have no idea what it meant or why he started saying it. But I couldn't start my day at school without it back then.


We sang Blue Eyes Cryin in the Rain. It was our song. At my wedding, instead of dancing to 'Daddy's Little Girl" or whatever most brides dance with their fathers to, my dad and I danced to Blue Eyes Cryin in the Rain. Now, I doubt I will ever be able to hear that song without crying myself. I wish I had been strong enough to sing that at his funeral. I think he would have liked that.


Each time I cry when I think of how much I miss my dad, I can hear him telling me "Don't worry about me. I'm okay." That's the way he was. Even as sick as he was and even in all the pain he was in he would tell others not to worry about him and that he was okay. That man could be in the hospital for open heart surgery and would tell those that visited him not to worry.


My dad loved to travel. He especially loved cruises. He and my mom would go on at least one cruise a year. I remember trips with him when I was a kid. A trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee when I was really young almost ended with the two of us falling off a mountain. We were sliding down on a bobsled and we flipped off the track into the snow close to the edge of the side of the mountain. As alarmed as he was, he just laughed so I wouldn't be upset. He took me swimming on one of our vacations and I fell off the top of the ladder at the swimming pool. He saw that I wasn't hurt so he laughed so that I wouldn't get upset and cry from being so scared.


I know my dad was wild in his younger days. I love to hear those stories. But, more than anything, I remember my dad as being strong and caring. He may not have always expressed his love, but I always knew that he did love me.


Another important lesson I learned from my dad was that you make your own good time. Don't sit around waiting for someone else to show you a good time. So, those of you that know how goofy I am and why I find humor in even the most morbid of times, it was my father's lesson. I make my own good time. I use humor in just about everything I do. Perhaps others don't always appreciate my humor, but that isn't my problem...I'm having a good time.


I never wanted to disappoint my parents. Sadly, I'm sure I disappointed them quite a bit. But, my dad told me "don't worry about what we think. You do what will make you happy and what you think is best for you." I tried this one, but I still feel guilty about disappointing them. I stayed in the New Orleans area because I wanted to make sure my parents were okay. I knew it would be difficult for them if their only child moved far away. I stay here now because I want my kids to know my parents.


My dad was a wonderful grandfather. He loved my kids more than words can describe. My dad always looked forward to seeing my son and daughter. He had such a close and special relationship with my son. If he went a week without seeing my son, I'd get a phone call telling me how much he was missing him. He positively glowed when he was around my kids. He was truly a proud grandfather.

My dad loved music. He collected records for years. When he got a computer and found out you could download music...he loaded his computer up with songs. He'd find obscure songs that most people have never heard of.

My dad loved NASCAR. It used to drive me crazy when I was a kid. I never understood what was so interesting about watching a bunch of people drive around in a circle really fast for hours. I've grown to like it more now. It broke his heart when Dale Earnhardt died.

When my dad would hear of someone in need, he would work to try and help that person and their family out. He wouldn't always know exactly how to go about doing that, but he would try his best. He would talk to people and try to get donations or work on setting up benefits.


My dad was so good hearted and compassionate. People, including some of his own family members, would take advantage of his kind heart. He would give away every penny he had. My mother finally had to put her foot down because he was giving money to people that weren't doing anything to help themselves. My dad finally realized that giving money to people that refused to work wasn't helping those people at all. It pained him to tell them no, but he knew that it was better for them.


I love my dad and I will always miss him. I pray that I will be able to live my life in ways that honor him and would make him proud. I pray that I will be able to keep his memory alive in my children.



"Someday when we meet up yonder, we'll stroll hand in hand again, in a land that knows no sorrow. Blue eyes cryin in the rain."

I want you to want me

It's reunion time again. I've spent much of the past decade or so trying to avoid people. Now that I'm getting back into the world, I'm realizing why I left in the first place. Let me try to explain.

I was an extremely shy child. I would even go so far as to say that I should have had some sort of professional help or some sort of intervention when I was younger. I was uncomfortable talking to my parents. I was never truly comfortable around the neighborhood kids. It didn't help that the neighborhood kids thought that I was stuck up because I was so...quiet and removed for lack of better words. I was afraid they wouldn't like me so I tried to stay by myself. But because I stayed by myself instead of playing with them, it made them not like me. Oh...we developed friendships eventually. But I always sensed that I would never be part of their inner circle. There are several times that I remember being left out or picked last. Just kids being kids. But it certainly didn't help my already fragile self esteem.

Growing up, I continued to spend a good deal of time by myself. In the summers, I stayed up late (I usually didn't get to sleep until the sun came up). I would usually be going to bed when the neighborhood kids were getting up. I'd be waking up when they were going inside for dinner. I'm not saying it was the best plan, but it's just what it was. I watched movies. I listened to music. I created my own little world where I wouldn't have to deal with the hurt and insecurity that I felt. If I didn't put myself out there, there was no way I could be hurt. Now, I was quite young so I'm sure that's not what I was thinking. It's only been recently that I've realized that that was basically what it boiled down to.

I had few friends. Not because I couldn't get friends, but because I chose to only spend time with a few people. I spent a great deal of time and effort even as a child trying really hard to keep those friends. I always felt that I wasn't anything special enough to keep a friend. I have always made it clear that I would be there for them if they needed me and I always was. I don't remember one instance in which any of them was there for me when I was having a hard time.

Clearly, in my mind, they considered me only a back up fair weather friend. Someone to have fun with when no one else was available.

Fast forward to when I began dating. I spent a great deal of time and effort trying hard to be what that person needed and wanted. I abandoned all pride and any shred of self worth that I had simply to make him happy. This didn't end with him. I did this through every relationship I had for many years. What guy remains interested in a girl that literally lives her life only to make him happy? It sounds nice in the beginning to them, but in reality it actually sucks. People need challenges and common interests and mutual respect among many other things to make any relationship work.

This wasn't exclusive to my dating relationships. I lacked friends and I needed friends. I would find ways to insinuate myself into situations in which certain people would be in just so that I would have the opportunity to get to know people. I didn't know HOW to go about making friends so I schemed and planned and managed to get some friends. Again, I never felt truly comfortable in the group. I tried so hard. I wanted them to need me as much as I needed them. I'm sure that all my efforts simply pushed people away. I didn't realize that then.

I was accused of being manipulative by several people...guys I dated, people I was trying to be friends with, others. I didn't understand that. I was only trying to be what they wanted me to be so that they wouldn't leave. I felt that I had put myself out there and did everything I could for people and I expected them to always be there for me. But, time and again I found myself feeling alone and unhappy. I felt like an outsider no matter who I spent time with. I have never had a real best friend...someone that will put up with your tear filled midnight calls when you are fighting with your boyfriend, someone that will come to your house and coach you through your anxieties when you are starting a new job, someone that can just as easily and happily go out drinking and partying with you one night to being your personal savior the next night, someone that will defend you to others when someone tells lies about you, someone that can make you feel comfortable just being you.

I've never had someone, especially as an adult, that I thought would love to grab a pizza and spend the night at my house watching movies and just being silly. I'm jealous of women that have friendships like that. As an adult it's down right impossible to develop friendships. I've joined the ladies group at my son's school and have gone to the socials and volunteered to work with them, but I still feel like an outsider.

Don't get me wrong. I don't feel like a victim. I don't view myself as a victim. I certainly don't ask for sympathy or any silly bullshit like that. The reason I chose to stop pursuing friendships several years ago is because I have felt betrayed all too often by people that claimed to be my friends. I have never felt truly comfortable with people. While I don't feel like a victim, I also don't view myself as a manipulator. Looking back, I can understand how people can believe that of me. However, all I've ever wanted was to have people that I could talk to, feel comfortable with whether we were going to dinner and a movie, going to a concert, hanging out in from of the tv, having a few drinks somewhere, or if any of us is having a difficult time.

I started to think that maybe I just held people up to some impossible to attain standard and was always let down. But, I don't think so. Friends are people that can make you feel loved without ever needing to say "I love you." Friends are people that allow you to be yourself and love you for it. Friends will offer advice and seek advice from you. Friends will not ignore you (which is what I get a lot of even now...and, even as an adult, it's hurtful). Friends will be your sounding board and expect you to be theirs.

In my husband I have found someone who accepts me as I am, but expects me to continually grow as I accept him and expect him to grow. In him I have found someone who challenges me every day as I challenge him. He loves me for me.

Are there any others out there that can accept me as I am? I doubt anyone will call me manipulative these days because I no longer work so hard to put myself in their path. Either you want to get to know me or you don't. Either you like me or you don't. As badly as I'd like to have close friends to spend time with and share stories with, I refuse to change who I am for others anymore. Take me as I am or not at all.