I closed NASA for the betterment of our planet.

Do you ever feel ostracized? Completely left out because you don't fit in to someone's perfect little universe, despite how skewed their perception? Whether it be a difference in opinion, faith, lifestyles, political views, etc., you are left out of the great scheme of things. It hurts sometimes. Sometimes it angers you. However, when you get down to the bottom of it, why would you want to be a part of someone's universe if they cannot truly accept you for you?

My little family is perfect to me. We are happy. We are loved. We do not steal, we work hard, we donate, we love endlessly. We are good people. We are raising our son to be a good person, but to some, that is not enough. We do not fit into their cookie cutter world and we know why. Should that matter when it comes to those who are supposed to love you? No. It does to some people, though. Why? That is simple: pretension. Pretension separates us. In our universe, we accept wholeheartedly. In other people's universes, there are strict guidelines you must follow or you will be deemed a second class citizen. We are not now nor would we ever be that shallow and demanding. We love our closest of close, differences and all. We do not care how they come to our universe as long as they want to be there, to share our lives and experiences. Some, however, do not think this is enough.

This is why I am where I am. I was angry. Why would they not want to be a part of our family? Why would they categorize us? Why are we beneath others in their universe? My anger has now turned to apathy, which is much more dangerous. I do not care anymore. I do not care if they want to be around us nor do I care if they accept us. I do not plan on making any more efforts and I have thus made a new rule to be included in my universe... "Pretentious people need not apply." We are surrounded by those who take us as we are. There is no asinine competition. They do not have requirements. They do not force us to be anyone but who we are and love us because of it. They think the sun rises and sets on my son's big, beautiful gray eyes. They helped build, shape, and nurture my universe. They are the people who remind me not to be angry; be forgiving. They remind me to ignore the faults of others because it is not my place to judge. My universe is filled with life, love, and happiness. Seeing what I have, why would I want to be a part of a universe that is based on status, forced smiles, and nonacceptance of the people I love most. I could forgive any and all of what has occurred... but that last part. Never. That last part makes you vapor in my universe. A leaf in the passing breeze. Something completely insignificant that does not have any real place or effect on my universe. You see, those people that are void of their acceptance, they are my life source. They are everything I hold dear. They will not have to deal with being second to anyone, ever. They deserve more than that and are better. I would walk through the Sahara barefoot, chewing on pine cones while juggling cobras before I ever let anyone destroy, tarnish or damage our place of contentment.

So if you ever feel ostracized or left out, determine if the universe you are being forced out of will make you a better person or are you better for not being subjected to it's inhabitants. I have determined that my universe is perfect. I see no need to go exploring other drab, judgmental planets when my own planet is so rich and full of unconditional love. That is why I am left with apathy... and a question. At the end of the day, when it is all said and done, when you are face to face with your maker, when your deeds are written, when they only thing separating you from being a memory is your judgement, are you proud of the universe you created and which universe do you think your maker would prefer?

One small step for a nobody, one giant leap for Jade.

I have taken a step and finally decided to share this blog with those I hold dear. You will probably be mentioned from time to time, never by name. I know some of you will frown upon how personal I get with this blog but this is life. More importantly, this is my life. I write to vent and to express what I can't scream at the top of my lungs. I have my husband's blessing. I think he is hopeful I will one do fulfill a small dream of mine. People will think this is silly. People will think I am over-sharing. People will think I am wasting my time. People will never understand, how much stress this relieves and how much I love writing. People don't know that not only is this not my first blog but I also keep a journal, a personal journal to Jagger, and I am notorious for writing notes. You are always welcome to share your opinion. I would actually love any feedback. Sharing this was a huge step for me. I even deleted the post twice. If I do plan on ever making anything happen with my writing, I have to delve deep and get personal. You all are the first step. Welcome to my neurosis.

No need to worry about my weight. I got that covered.

I am fat. Simple and to the point. I have only been "not fat" for three short years in my mid-twenties. It is an issue with me, to say the least. At this point, I am the biggest I have ever been. I am not an obsessive eater, quite the contrary. Some days I only eat once. I am not very active, I admit, but my son has a eczema, breaks out at the drop of a hat, I obsess, and that makes us limited on certain activities. I could go walking in the evening, and have the best intentions, but I would rather spend time with my husband or catch up on sleep. (We never sleep through the night because of my son's condition, and most days I run on three or four hours of sleep, rarely consecutive.) I have been to doctors, tried all the fad weight loss shakes and pills, starved myself, screamed at myself in the mirror, cried, avoided buying certain foods for my house, declined desert, researched every weight loss advice column the internet has to offer. All of the excuses aside, I am fat.

I hate it. It makes me feel completely unattractive. I am constantly embarrassed and assume people are always looking at me, laughing at me, judging me. I dread going out to any public event. I make excuses to skip weddings, birthdays, sporting events, social gathers, all because I am ashamed of how I look and dread what people think of me. When I do go out, I spend hours trying to find an outfit and end up sobbing uncontrollably on my bed because of how my clothes fit me. When people tag me in pictures on Facebook, I immediately hide the pictures and untag them. I refuse to get family photos because I have to be in them. My son is two and a half... we have had family photos once and he was four months old. I rarely take pictures with my son or husband because I don't like how I look. Going out to eat is especially difficult. I always play this scene over and over in my head of someone coming up to me and asking me if I left any food for the rest of the diners. When I make eye contact I know they are wondering if I ordered a small salad or half the menu. Clothes shopping? You can only imagine. I can't go to the gym because all the bench-pressing, 'roid heads laugh because I'm too fat to start on a treadmill. So where do I start? What do I do? I don't shovel food down my throat all day. I know that's what people assume. I just sit and eat. Not even remotely close. But isn't that what you picture when you see those meems making fun of obese people?

My biggest fear? The end all for me? I worry that when my son is school age he will be ridiculed because I am a huge freak. I worry he will feel the need to defend me, or worse yet, be ashamed of me. I worry my husband will stop loving me. I worry that he is already ashamed of me. I am completely healthy now, but I worry I won't get to watch my son grow up because I am damaging my body by being this heavy. Then he will have the shame of telling me people why I passed. "She was just too fat. Her body couldn't handle it. She loved food more than me."

This is a deeply personal problem I have with myself. Why am I sharing this? I want understanding. I want people to understand that, yes, I am aware of my weight, and yes, I am mortified. I want people to understand that you can get this heavy without eating five full pizzas a day while guzzling a two liter of Coke. I want people to know I do not gorge myself. I want people to grasp the idea that I don't need their concern, sympathy, malicious comments, stares, pity or "at least you're pretty" comments. I want people to realize
that I do try to be normal. I want people to realize that some of us "fat asses" are not walking cases of diabetes, blood pressure issues, and cholesterol problems. Mostly, I want people to have an understanding that this is MY problem. You cannot say anything to me that I have not already obsessed over for hours. You cannot call me a name I have not called myself. You have your demons and this is mine. I wish I had the time and money to broil fish every night with my steamed vegetables and then walk three miles on my treadmill. Sadly, sometimes I have to stretch a dollar and make pasta. Sometimes I am so worn out from trying to comfort my almost-always-suffering son that I don't even contemplate exercising like I should. I do try, though, contrary to what my image displays.

I know this is my problem, my fault, and I am the only one who can fix my issue. I know that letting myself get to this point is horrendous. I know this effects my son and family. But most important, I know how I look.

It may be a little, white lie but it has a huge, black shadow...

I have come to a crossroads in my life and I have a veered a direction to keep my life's normality rather than out of necessity. That doesn't make much sense, I know, but that is the only way to explain it.

I am married.  I have always hated the idea of marriage, the last form of slavery, until I completely connected with my life partner. We connected on so many levels. All things of that nature aside, I also became pregnant within the first three months, which is odd since I was supposed to be somewhat barren. We have tried hard but I know, and he agrees, I have tried the hardest. I am not the easiest person to live with but I am a good person. I can say the things that can cut people deeper than imaginable, but at the same time, my silver tongue can put you on cloud 9. I have a horrid temper, I indulge in wine (though not excessively) and it is my way or the wrong way. But that's it. Besides that, I am a loving mother, amazing cook, decent housekeeper, intelligent... hell, my positives are endless. *wink* All of my faults aside, however, my husband is brilliant on paper. He works hard, does the dishes, is an absolutely amazing father, but... he lies. Not about anything pertinent but about the most small, menial things. He would never cheat, doesn't raise a hand in anger, has no addictions, and has only raised his voice minimal times but he will bend the truth about the most asinine things possible. That lone fact has made me contemplate parting ways.

I know, silly. But how am I to know that it will not escalate.  When will a small fib turn into a huge lie. He has not shown that pattern but it worries me. I am an all or nothing type of person; it's black or white. I do not, and will not, tolerate someone lying. That is a huge slap in the face. It completely breaks ones trust and without trust, you have no relationship.  As I said, on paper, he is wonderful. A man any woman/man would love to have as her/his life partner but the fact that he will fib about the most minuscule things is almost unforgivable. Everyone lies but most lie out of necessity. If you can tell the truth  with little repercussions, you tell the truth. This is what has me at a stand still. Am I being too harsh to the man who has always struggled with this issue. He tries hard but it still happens, even if it is few and far in between. I am unforgiving and I don't know where to go from here.

I value life in a way that is almost morbid; I am prepared to die tomorrow. Do I want to spend my life with a man who I only somewhat trust because he lies about the most ignorant things? Do I leave him and break up our home? Do I try to fix this problem?  Is it my problem to fix? Does it even constitute as a problem? Life is tricky. I could not imagine my life without this amazing father and human being but the occasional white lie has me seeing red. I told him that I would be with him until death took one of us but if I catch him again  and he messes up my OCD, trusting balance, I may have to go nine kinds of crazy. It's the little things in life that matter and I fear he takes them for granted; Or maybe I do.  Who knows? What is important to one is menial to another and that is where the problem lies. I have decided to try again. I will not break up this family because of one issue, as important as it might be to me, but I cannot promise that it will not be an issue in the future.

A full bottle of cheap wine later, it's hard to forget that he broke my trust for something so unimportant...

 *Disclaimer: My husband is aware of this page. He knows I write about him. He knows I'm just working it out in the most healthy way I think possible. He is understanding. We are fine.

Hello, my awkward subordinates. I am Jade, your Queen.

I can be very socially awkward. Some of the things that come from mouth make me want to crawl into a hole and throw up a white flag. Example: I have a friend who I continually call the wrong name. She is a very good friend of mine, but from time to time I refer to her as another friend's name. We laughed it off at first but now it is so awkward that when the wrong name comes from my lips, I just want to leave the social event. I'm sure she feels that I am doing this on purpose; quite the contrary. This friend is an amazing person but they have a way of making me feel like I am complete imbecile for a simple slip of the tongue. I get defensive but quickly realize it is my on social awkwardness that makes me feel that way. I'm so awkward that I still think about things I have said years ago that was forgotten by everyone else a long time ago. I dream of time machines and righting wrongs to the point I can't sleep sometimes. I know, I am completely neurotic, but I digress. It also doesn't help that I over apologize. I apologize for everything, hoping that if I have slighted someone by chance, they will realize that I have seen the error of my ways and regret the mistake wholeheartedly. People call me abrasive because I tend to speak without thinking. I try to socialize with everyone and make them laugh. If this occurs, it almost eases the awkwardness. Almost as if I were saying, "I may have made an ass out of myself, but you laughed at my story three minutes ago, so we're even." Combine all of this, add the fact that I am a very chunky girl and throw in a dash of self-doubt, and you get a walking ball of psychosis that would make Freud run screaming to his mother. I've tried to fix some of these issues. I've tried just not going out, telling people the truth about my social issues, and just ignoring the problems altogether. Nothing works. I'm still a social mess. Luckily, I have a few very close friends who know my issues and try to help me cover my tracks. Still, it has to get very annoying sometimes. Almost as if one would look up awkward in the dictionary and see my shining face, probably apologizing profusely for using the wrong name again. If there were an island full of people who were not meant to be in social situations, I would be sent there immediately and live out my life ruling as their queen.

A blog about nothing for no one in particular.

I am nothing special. I am an ordinary person with ordinary problems. I have wanted to write a book but my lack of patience, and complete ignorance to the book writing process, made that venture unrealistic. Besides, who in the world would care about my deranged ramblings? No one may ever read this blog. I could be wasting my time. At this point, that seems completely irrelevant. I need to vent.  I want to write. I have something to say about nothing and the world deserves to ignore it completely. Therapy is too expensive; writing is a release.