A little diddy about NaysWay
This site was created two years ago under a different name: “Who Asked You?!” If you were a fan of W.A.Y. and have no idea if you’ve come to the right place or if someone is playing a very nasty trick on you, rest assured. You’re in the right place. Nasty tricks come later.
I am a thirty-something, married, mother of two, and a glass-half-empty-kind of gal. Over a period of time, I suffered with depression and thoughts of suicide. I am the survivor of two failed attempts at the latter. I have never taken medication or talked to a psychotherapist as both are either too expensive or too addictive. Instead, I had two children, both equally expensive and addictive - go figure - who continually keep me grounded and remind me there is something worth living for. I would never tell a fellow sufferer not to seek treatment of some sort if it is, indeed, helpful to them. To each their own.
In keeping with my mental demons, I’ve also struggled with being my own worst enemy. I am not proud, but I am also relentless in tearing myself down. Somewhere in my subconscious, I know better than anyone that I’ll never amount to anything. I may or may not have had those words directly spoken to me in my past. I press on in my destruction regardless. This stream of thinking has, understandably, been my downfall almost all of my life. It’s driven me to my most spectacular failures and some of my deepest, darkest places of depression and eventual suicide attempts. While my children are my grounding point, I still continue to fight an uphill battle. This site is the hope that I’ll not only work toward my unraveling but maybe help someone else in the process. I am optimistic.
Due to the craziness of everyday people and the society we live in, I do not use my real name, nor the real names of my family or friends. If it makes you feel any better, these “nicknames” I give are actually the same I use in real life.
The Characters of FEAR
Introducing my mutton headed children. The oldest is grade school age and a know-it-all with a penchant for musicals and vanity. We call her Mooter and she actually prefers it. She is terrified of the dark, dust bunnies, her shadow, noises, the wind, things floating in water, bees and mice. The last two are all my fault. Surprisingly, she is not afraid of most other bugs and squashes them as needed. She loves her sister but is often annoyed by her clinginess as she is used to having been an only child most of her life. She wishes to take her dog to school with her often, is a lover of all things canine and loves to draw and color. She is an entertainer and movie director in the making.
The youngest is old enough to terrorize the dog, the house, and basically thinks she’s running the show with her bossy nature, snotty nose and cute chipmunk cheeks. We call her Booger. She will grow to hate the nickname in her adolescent years. I will continue to use it anyway for torture purposes. Her hobbies are blowing snot bubbles for her own enjoyment, eating, poking her sister in the ear and innocently looking coy, dancing like a crazy wild woman, eating, walking throughout the house and calling her sister’s name, sleeping, peeing and crapping more than any store-bought diaper can consume, eating, whining when she doesn’t get her way and eating. Did I say that already? She is a corporate executive and revolutionary in the making.
In my spare time, I am also the wife of a reclusive, cranky, socially inept, wise-cracking, smart mouthed, short thirty-something man I met in my adolescence. We like to call him BFam. Don’t let his rough exterior fool you. He doesn’t like most people knowing he’s a softy who likes to cuddle, dotes on his girls, and occasionally plays with the dog when he’s not sneezing from being allergic to him. He is a jack-of-all-trades, is turned on by anything with a plug, batteries and a USB outlet; can fix most things around the house, is the technological guru and is constantly running errands for his absent-minded wife. He’s not a bad cook either. He hates having his picture taken and I have very few of them with his eyes open.
Named by BFam after all-around athlete Bo Jackson, this completely lazy, fat, greedy tub of old man in a canine’s body is Bo. This is his real name. I reveal it only in the oft chance he is ever lost and you need to return him to me. Or keep him. He’ll follow you as long as you have food. He has a brother of Boston Terrier descent currently on house arrest with my Mom named Luke. Also his real name. Together they make Bo and Luke. Duke. True story. He’s a good boy and only had to go to obedience school for six weeks as a puppy to curb his stubborn, possessive nature. His right ear was never fully developed and he was born missing the extra cartilage which would create an ear flap. The ear is otherwise fully functional. He likes belly rubs, warm baths, table scraps, sleeping, snoring, farting, sneezing in people’s faces and is a momma’s boy. He has the tendency to come across as rude but is misunderstood. He’s been in the family for over five years and has a hard time understanding he’s not human and is probably the only son I’ll ever have.
