Running A Pirate Shit. I Mean Ship.

Many people have heard the saying “I do not run a tight ship, I run a pirate ship”. I absolutely agree with every fiber in my body. Except for sometimes I feel like my pirate ship looks like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean when he comes to shore on his ship, but just the mast is sticking above the water.

Over the Christmas holiday we were all plagued by the wonderful, magnificent covid. The kids were asymptomatic. I, however, was not. My daughter lost here fourth tooth up top, my son had two missing teeth from falling out of a chair when he was being defiant, and he was also gifted with a lovely blackeye. I was barely functioning, and my two children were running around in their underwear with missing teeth and black eyes. Hair was not touched at all. We looked like the walking dead. It was fantastic.

I laugh at this image because sadly this is how we look sometimes. Even with covid out of the picture. I have no problem claiming I am the conductor of the hot mess express. Have been for a very long time. Finally taking charge though and at least steering the express in a direction. The wheels sometimes are sliding off the track and sparks are flying about. But its ok. I’m ok. We are all ok.

Being a mom who is healing from one too many things, battles depression/anxiety, trying to get her teaching alternative certification, lifts, and trying to get her life on track is a nightmare at times. I know there are millions of other people out there who are on the same boat. The same express. For any of those who grew up playing Oregon Trail, I was never successful at that game… shit maybe that’s why my life is the way it is, I am the wagon that comes into a town in desperate need of supplies.

People tell me all the time “oh, kids are resilient. They will be fine.” Yes, I agree kids do bounce back, but I am one-hundred percent aware that everything that I do, all my choices, all my actions, affect them so much more than I can comprehend. I do have a very good understanding of child psychology. My degree was in psychology. I see the effects of my life in which my children are having to learn to juggle as well. My daughter has recently been diagnosed with severe social anxiety. She is struggling in school due to it. People have told me that there is no way she has anxiety, but she does. I see it every day. I see so much of me in her. It terrifies me at times.

I just hope that I can at least prepare her for the hardships that I know are coming her way. I cannot shield her from them, but at least give her the tools to battle them. Isn’t that all parents’ wishes?

Battling with depression/anxiety myself and trying to heal, grow, and find myself as a person and as a parent makes me even more of a hot mess. People say I have it all together. I just laugh. I picture my brain full of minions just having a party up there. Shredding the tiny bit of files of organization that I attempt to have. Karaoke galore with a huge disco ball and swinging from lights. That is my brain.

I ramble on about this because yes, so many people feel this. You do not have to be a parent to be a passenger on the hot mess express. It unfortunately picks up whoever it likes.

So here is to everyone. Everyone who feels like their head is going to pop off at times. To those who are touched out. To those who feel like they are drowning. To those who feel numb. To those who have no idea what they are doing. To those who haven’t been able to admit they are all aboard this ship, train, wagon…. To those who put two left shoes on. To those who feel like you are failing your children. To those who seem to just get hit with one thing after the other. To those who battle depression, anxiety, any mental health issues. To those who are struggling in a marriage, to those who feel alone, to those who want to be left alone. To those who the list goes on and on. Breathe. There are millions of people just like you. Every person’s experiences are slightly different, but we all can relate. But remember a ship, a train, and a wagon move. They are means of transportation. Although the movement may be not quite like you want, there is movement. Picking up a small piece of grain and moving it is still movement. Not everything has to be done by picking up a shovel and moving millions of pieces at one time. Give yourself some grace. You are still moving. You are still alive. Even if it is barely. That heart of yours is still pumping.

As I attempt to steer my pirate ship with my two children swinging from the masts’, I will wave at you and yell ahoy if close enough. Possibly give you a shimmy, a weird face, and shake my booty. Because that is how I role these days. Embrace the chaos. EVERYONE is a hot mess. Or they feel like it. No one is exempted from the crazy, wild ride of life. Some are fantastic at hiding it. They make themselves look put together and under control, that is usually a coping mechanism for insecurities… but embrace it. Is it fun all the time? Absolutely fucking not. But do not worry about the things we cannot control. I am not perfect at believing that all the time. But I am a work in progress. I am working on it. One thing I have learned is those who laugh amid chaos are much happier than those who are panicking and trying to control everything. Ummmmm hello (waving like a spaz at you). That was me not to long ago. It is not fun.

Short vent today. Peace out and toot the hot mess express train horn. Take a bath in the bottle of rum

and swing from the mast (maybe not all the time on the drinking part). Do whatever the fuck you need to do. We are all a little wonky. Make sure to wave and toot your horn. I will toot back *** Random thought… Why do semi-trucks not toot their horn anymore when you make the arm symbol… very sad.

Adios amigos, The Perfectly Imperfect Queen