Fuck It

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Fuck it.

A term I need to remember to use on a daily basis. The donor used to call me and probably still does the Connecticut Killjoy. He said I sucked the fun out of everything because I was too serious. And there are times but don’t tell him that I agree. I often find myself milling something over and over and over again in my head, unable to let it go. It sits there and brews and stews for hours and days and months until my head is quite literally about to explode.

Everything gets processed through y crazy little brain and sits there to ferment. And by everything I mean EVERYTHING! I worry about what I’m eating, how big my ass looks, if I look as horrible as that lady across the room, will my kids gets sent home early today, do I have enough time to go to the grocery store, will the daycare look at me weird if I send Pheobe with a ‘collective’ lunch, will I make it through the week on just one tank of gas, will anyone be upset if I didn’t do house work again, did I pack BF enough for lunch, will Theo’s bus actually drop him off, will my boobs actually take over my entire body, do I have cancer, do i have a fatty liver…..the list goes on and on and on and on…and on…and….on…..and…..you get the picture.

I know you’re sitting there saying, “But we all worry about those things,” but the truth is I’m border line OCD about it all. It frustrates me and then consumes me until I come to rocking in a corner with a mason jar of vodka an a bag of chips. Every day is a struggle. Fighting with my brain like it’s a bitter ex husband. Back and forth. Back and forth. I’ve missed out on so much because of it. So many laughs. So many smiles. So many happy tears…..all because my brain doesn’t want to shut up and just say ‘Fuck It!”

So this is what I plan to do. Every day I’m going to say “Ah, fuck it” to at least one thing other than housework and just live a little. I really have no reason not to. I have to amazingly wonderful  minions who make me want to scream, a fantastic BF who for seem unknown reason chose me, and an addition of two littles who add the flare of ‘super girly’ and frustration. All 4 kids gets along famously except when they’re threatening to tie each other up. BF gets me, like really gets me or pretends to so I’ll feel better and we have mind blowing amazing sex. I really do have everything a mommy and GF could ask for. I love all 5 people who surround me daily with love and support.

So here I go, ready to say ‘Fuck It’ and start enjoying my life a little more before my brain explodes and I end up in a mental institution. I challenge you all to do the same for we never know when our last day will be here and its best for others to remember us with a smile not a frown.

4 thoughts on “Fuck It

  1. Ah, yes. The crazy-mind-spinning-out-of-control-what-if-OMG-did-I-leave-the-oven-on-am-I-doing-okay-AAAGGGHHHHH!!!!

    I know this battle well.

    My dad caught me during one of my famous freak outs & imparted some program wisdom on to me (this was years ago, mind you): “Let go and let God*.”
    (*insert supreme being of choice here.)



    • I try to do the same every day. Like you I find if I do not, I feel out of control.

      It has worked for me to a degree…and I am continuing to plug away.


  2. I believe we were promised chips & vodka in a mason jar?

    I’m right with you — I obsess about far too much that I have nothing to gain about obsessing about. Though I’m sure BF will be hoping that you’ll just say “fuck it” whenever you’re in the same proximity, though he might have issue with you calling him an “it.”


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