Customers are not always right .

I have been working like this as long as I can remember. Do I love missing out on some much time with my family, hell no. But what I do love is knowing I’m building something for myself. Knowing that I’m showing my kids if you want something you earn it. Sometimes that comes with sacrifice and that’s ok.

At least that’s what I tell myself to get through these 90 hour work weeks. Shit is rough right now, and I have bad days where I question everything I believe in. There are days I literally sitting on the floor just to ground myself to the idea that I have this under control; when in all reality I am nowhere close.

With my work comes a lot of comments from people I’m surrounded with. My family question whether it’s all worth it. My friends eventually stop inviting me to events I’ll never be able to attend. (Which almost hurts worse than having to turn them down because I’m working in the first place.) Comments from supervisors questioning my work.

You can question my work, that’s fine. You can question my tone when I get a little ridiculous. (90 hours a week can really mess with you) You can question my attitude bc let’s be real I’m no Rosie sunshine.

You will never question my passion. Because sweetie if I didn’t care about what I was doing I wouldn’t be doing it at all.

So let me tell you what I don’t need.

I don’t need this asshat of a man coming into my restaurant on a regular basis to fill my head with his nasty comments.

He may seem nice at first. He’s a job recruiter for neighboring companies. He knows all about the business how it works etc. He’s met tons of people just like me. People that work the lives away for a company that doesn’t deserve them etc.

I try to take his derogatory comments like a grain of salt. But one of them really collected at my feet.

“All sizzle no steak.”

He told me some bullshit line about how I will spend all my life busting my ass for a company and I’m missing out on other opportunities.

I guess I believed this explanation for the time being, but for a few months now it keeps replaying in my head.

So tonight I googled it.

Let me read you the definition:

A thing or person who fails to measure up to it’s description or advanced promotion.

I fail regularly. I make decisions out of haste and exhaustion on a daily. Sometimes I hire the wrong people or I don’t cultivate people the way I should. Sometimes I let the pressure put on me pour down to those below me the way I promised I never would. Sometimes I raise my voice. Sometimes I give up. Sometimes I fail at these things so regularly that I have to step away.

But failing to measure up isn’t one of them, nor will it ever be.

I may have some bad days now, but I won’t always.

One day all these comments from random customers that know very little about me won’t affect me the slightest.

So today while that asshats nasty snide comment may have collected at my feet; I’m going to use comments like that as stepping stones to climb my ambitious ass all the way to the top.

I’m going to handle it with

MASS AMOUNTS OF SIZZLE & STEAK.

So the next time you come into my restaurant with your assumptions of who I am and what I’m capable off ; just remember it’s people like you that are going to take me to the top.

❤️

12:37 & 15 google windows later.

12:38am now.

I’m breathing again, that’s got to be a good sign. I can feel my fingers enough to type again all good news.

I just suffered one of the most dihibilatating anxiety attacks of my life for no reason what so ever .

We’re talking 5 alarm , wake my husband up, nearly call an ambulance attack. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t feel anything, and I felt everything. For the ridiculous people that still think this is in my head, you try saying that after being in the room with me.

My entire body, covered in hives, throat closed up, body temperature through the roof. It came on slowly for hours into the evening , I just reassured my husband I was in a wierd mood or having an off day. I was fine though.

Newsflash I was not fine. Not even close.

I felt it creeping in on my chest but couldn’t stop it. I barely got the words, I need help, out before everything went black. Thanks God my husband is a husband who cares and who listens or I very well would have had a heart attack.

My children would have found me dead on my bedroom floor this morning and you wouldn’t be reading this. You’d be reading my name on the news instead.

I’ve had this migraine for a few days now. It’s a crippling pain right behind my eyes. It’s even been affecting my vision a lot. I tossed it up to sinus pressure, but apparently my brain goes straight to blood clot. Lost Lib to the same thing. Ironically she’s the only person I wanted tonight. When my husband asked what can I do, how can I help, I just wanted to SCREAM call her!!! But anyone with anxiety knows you can’t form those words even when you want to.

The anniversary of my grandpa’s death , also on the 7th. Could have been a factor subconsciously or maybe not.

I’ve been up nearly all night reading comment after comment about my sons school. As if I didn’t have enough things to stress about , worrying whether he’s just going through something or having serious issues.

I mean he’s 6. Did I seriously already mess up that badly?! It’s possible. Definitely possible. Should I try an meet with his school again, meet with new school, screw it all & quit my job to homeschool. Then we’d be homeless and worry about losing the kids. Damned either way.

I just want my little boy happy , healthy, and excited again. Is that so much to ask for.

So which is it?

70 hour work weeks, 6 year old struggling at school, damn sinus pressure, blood clot, dead best friend, no other real friends, dead papaw, no other real father figure, hormonal imbalance, SHIT.

I can’t imagine THIS is all in my head.

I nearly had a heart attack tonight because I could not calm the hell down.

For God’s sake what is wrong with me?!

It’s 12:57 now and my jaw is heavily closed. I have a million things I want to say, scream, but I’ll settle for one.

Mental illness is real. It really hurts sometimes. It’s been awhile since I’ve had one this bad, and generally I can figure out what’s happening.

But not tonight.

Tonight I’m just grateful I’ll be waking up my kids for school in the morning, instead of them being woke up by paramedics.

1:00 am now. Time to try and recoop my brain.

I’ve found watching something constant ( like time changing) helps me ground my brain.

1:01 am. I’m alive.

Exhausted and confused, but alive.

Dear Daddy.

Not really sure who’s reading this anymore, but really needed to air out some dirty laundry so here goes.

My biological father is in prison, where he has been for the last 20+ years. There has been no contact for at least 15 of those years for reasons I’m sure you can imagine. Approximately a month ago he began emailing me. Apparently email kiosks are a thing in prison now, who knew?

Anywho, emails started off pretty basic. Hey I’m your father, I’ve been trying to find you for 23 years, I love you…. You know the usual bullshit. So let’s start there, with those first 3 statements. After I address those I’ll tell y’all about the night I read the court appeals for the first time, then I’ll finish up with telling you about my long lost family members .

Daddy Dearest,

To be quite frank, you must not know the definition of father. I’ve has a great father in my life; A man that watched me grow up, coached me, took care of me, supported me, and loved me. He died my sophomore year of high school, and he sure as hell wasn’t you. Also, you don’t love me. Father’s that love their daughters don’t do things that put them in prison for the entire life, and then try to defend those acts.

As I’ve said, for YEARS I convinced myself that this raunchy nearly 18 year old hussie tried to throw herself at you. That’s how it must have happened, that’s what I convinced myself anyways.

Until a few weeks ago when I stumbled upon the appeals themselves and spent the next horrifying moments reading and rereading the details of the ATTACK.

That’s what you did by the way… You ATTACKED a little girl. So turns out that 17 (nearly 18) year old girl I imagined was only 13. THIRTEEN. But I’m sure she asked for it and it was consensual right?! Stop demanding for me to hear you out. There is no version of that story that could change the fact that you ATTACKED a child. Schizophrenic or not there is not an excuse for that behavior. There wasn’t then and there isn’t now.

You will not guilt me into believing that happened differently. You will not guilt me into forgiving you or having a relationship with you. You will not guilt me at all.

& Those family members of yours I have been so fortunate to get in contact with – thy are going to grow to love me and my boys. We’re going to build a relationship with them for years to come. & I hope your mother brags about it everytime you call. Sending me 15 messages about how horrible your family is and how I’ll regret this and how you’re worried about my safety…. It’s a joke.

So just to clarify :

You are a monster. You are not entitled to a relationship with your daughter if you abandoned her and attacked a THIRTEEN year old. Your family can and will be a part of my family, 100% WITHOUT you.

So stop with the emails, for crying out loud. I’m not your daughter and I don’t intend on being one.

-Signed.

So that’s a teaspoon of the literal shit that’s been on my plate lately. & Jesus is it overbearing.

P.S.A. – DRIVE THRU PATRONS

Let’s talk about the drive thru for just a hot minute shall we.

I have worked in restaurants containing drive thrus for nearly 13 years. & Yet to this day I am still amazed at the things people do and say in those said drive thrus. (Ignore the fact that drive thrus probably isn’t a word. I went to Boonville, what do you want for me?!)

So I realize now that maybe we should include a small list of directions for customers who are expecting this speedy service. Maybe it will help them navigate this terribly hard task of ordering ones food.

So here is the list :

1. Lay your god forsaken phone down. If you pulled up to my drive thru window & I made you wait while I finished my phone conversation you would have had a free meal and one heck of a negative survey to say the least. I realize you feel as if your phone conversation is far too important, I promise you it is not.

2. If you are going to have 15 different orders, all bagged separately, all with a zillion special sandwich requests – take your butt inside. This ensures that every part of your ridiculous order gets taken care of in a timely manner with out having my drive thru times sky rocket and prevents my poor cashier from getting screamed at by the next 5 cars.

3. When I ask you if you want sauce – freaking listen and respond. Don’t wait until I’ve handed you all your food then knock on my window rudely complaining you didn’t get any sauce. Lady I asked you, & if you followed rule #1 on this list for idiots you probably would have heard me ask you.

4. Move you dang gone car down the road. If you are one of those people that has to open every single item in your bag & inspect it, girl that’s totally fine. (I am one of those people as well!) Common courtesy says pull out of my drive thru to do so. Dear lord, don’t sit at my window & open your freaking straw wrappers, and taste test all your food while sitting at my window.

5.) Stop being a**holes. Seriously though. I promise you my cashier in that window is not paid nearly enough to put up with your rudeness and disrespect. If you are soooo much better of a person than my drive thru cashier then stay home and make your own dang lunch!

6.) Let me do my job. For those of you who are to good to work in a restaurant, let me explain something to you us lowly people have to do. We have to suggestive sell, we have to promote a larger meal, & we have to repeat the order back to you. So instead of getting hateful about those 3 things, or rudely pull around in the middle of us taking your order, how about your wait your impatient butt at the speaker for 3.5 more seconds. After all I waited for you to finish your phone conversation, and waited for you to get your life together at the window getting your money out. The least you could do is follow proper order taking etiquette.

7) Donate the freaking dollar. 1 in 6 kids in America suffer from childhood hunger. So if you can afford to spend 27.35 in my drive thru 2x a week, I promise you that sparing $1 to help end childhood hunger is not going to break you.

So now that I’ve given a brief guide to make your drive thru experience a million times better for everyone involved – please share said list responsibily.

Please Tell Me…

Why do I do this to myself?
Why do I set myself up to be disappointed every other week?
Why do I continue to purchase these God forsaking tests every week knowing they yield the same horrible answer? I spend 2 weeks of the months blaming myself for not being fertile enough. This stress causes me to be off cycle….
Thus starting the even more horrifying cycle I have learned to live. That cycle where I convince myself that I am finally pregnant. Hold off the test for a few days just to be safe…. Then finally go for it…. Only to be more disappointed than I was 2 weeks before.

Outgrowing Myself.

Everyone here is new to me. New to my usual bluntness. New to my ability to over think, over analyse, and over emote. Let my clue you in on a few little secrets then… Well mainly just one…. I’m a hot mess.
Seriously though. I have abnormally high anxiety. There are not enough words in the English language for me to piece together an understanding into this portion of my life. Just trust me when I say trying the whole medication free shit is rough. Not every day. Some days I have really good days, when my worry bar runs low. I love those days. Hell I live for those days. But today my friends, today was not one of those days.
It was a simple task that started it all, it almost always is. All I needed to do was get dressed. That is it. Easy enough right?? Wrong. My husband and I were headed out to the fall festival, a huge street fair a few towns over. He spent 5 whole minutes getting dressed, as usual. I spent the next two hours solid standing in front of the mirror, or shall I say picking myself apart in the mirror.
I changed clothes nearly a dozen times, had about 4 blubbering anxiety attacks, and restyled my hair at least 10 times… And still left the house feeling poor about myself. My husband is truly my superman and always comes to my rescue when I’m losing my shit, or at least he tries. “You’re so beautiful baby, no matter what you wear. I think you’re gorgeous and that’s all that matters.”
Not today baby. Today one other thing mattered. I wanted to feel beautiful about myself. I need to feel beautiful about myself.
I’m not in high school anymore. I am 25 years old. When the hell does it end? When do I get to take back some pride in my self, and in my image? When do I get to look myself in the mirror and not be disappointed? When do I outgrow this demon of self consciousness?
Do I ever outgrow it??

A mothers reminder.

Some days my two boys are more than I can manage. Some days I count down the minutes for bedtime. I stare at the clock and think can I just be done now? Some days I wake up, and struggle to find the energy I need to tackle two toddlers. Then I married someone with three more kids. Crazy I know.

Sometimes I just want some peace. Peace & quiet, peace of mind, just peace in general. Sometimes I wonder if I had kids too early…. If I would have waited would I still be the same mom I am today?

The mom who hits the snooze button one too many times in the morning, and frantically throws the kids into their clothes as we are headed out the door.

The mom who has every intention of picking up the toys (or even better make the kids pick them up)… But instead finds myself making a pathway from the bed to the door every night.

The mom who let’s 3 months pass without crossing off one task on the to do list.

The mom who forgets appointments that were scheduled… Or forgets to schedule them all together.

The mom who sometimes raises her voice, then spends hours regretting it.

The mom who doesn’t always have patience.

The mom who sometimes needs a minute… Or ten, to quite frankly get my shit together.

The emotional mom, who cries for every thing and for nothing.

The mom who is full of irrational fears.

The mom who said NO, a lot.

The mom who constantly wonders if I am doing right at all.

Am I????

The mom who just needs a reminder every once in awhile.

A reminder that my boys will always love me, as long as I love them.

A reminder that one day I’m going to miss Cales million questions, and Landon following me to every room in the house.

A reminder that to them I am NEVER failing as long as I’m trying.

A reminder that I AM HUMAN & that’s enough.