Dear "Spend-a-Holic"

Here's some more from this link that I cited yesterday.

Dear Abby:
I am a 27-year-old stay-at-home mom with three kids. Two are my fiancé "Sean's"; the littlest is ours together. Sean and I have been together almost seven years.

I need help. I am a very depressed person and have been for many years. I shop excessively and spend way too much—sometimes all of our money—and I don't know how to stop. Shopping makes me feel happy, and when I'm depressed (which is often), I go out shopping for stuff I don't even need. I have even started shopping online for stuff. I feel horrible about this. Sean and I have tried separate bank accounts, but when I'd run low I would just tap right into his. Please help me. I don't know what to do.

Spend-a-Holic in Ventura, California

Abby recommended three things: 1) a wedding ring; 2) medication; 3) a shrink. She thoughtfully reminds our spend-a-holic that “Trying to self-medicate long-term depression by going on a spending spree is putting a Band-Aid on an infected wound.” Here’s my unlicensed advice:

Let’s focus on another variable that seems to fall by the wayside here: your three kids. I’m sure they love spending all their time with a depressed stay-at-home mother who’s spending away the money intended to care for them. You seem quite caught up in how this is going to affect your pending marriage (someone doesn’t wanna be alone?) but not so much the lives of your kids.

I’d recommend getting a damn job. This might mean that the kids go to daycare, but your wages should cover it. And then you’d be doing something with yourself rather than sitting around at your house all day wallowing in your depression.

In the long term I'd think about things like self-discipline and taking responsibility. Sure, it's nice to think of this as some sort of compulsion that you can't control, but that's a lie. You seem to know that what you're doing is both negative and destructive. If you have the deductive reasoning to understand this, then you aren't in such a state that your actions are beyond your control. So act like a big girl.

And think about telling your kids that they can't get eat dinner because mommy wanted some new shoes in order to feel better about herself. It's laughable.

Abby’s recommendation about a shrink might be dead-on, but it’s not going to help you out if you’re not willing to face your problems. And drugs aren’t going to help you get at the issues at hand either, that’s just a Band-Aid as well. Not to mention that it would be quite unfortunate to jump into a marriage.

Dear "Had Enough"

I was reading through some advice columns for a good laugh, and I came across this one.

Dear Abby: I married the love of my life, "Simon," a year ago. At the time, I was five months pregnant. While Simon and I stood taking our vows at the altar, his mother, "Bernice," felt the need to stand up and announce that the only reason we were being married was because I was pregnant -- and that I'd done it on purpose to tie him down. I was devastated hearing this at my wedding, and I let Simon know it. I tried to forgive her.

A few months later, Bernice arrived at the hospital as I was giving birth. Again, she started in on how I got pregnant on purpose to tie her son down and began telling everyone in my family how horrible I was. Again, I tried to forgive her.The final straw came when plans were being made to celebrate Simon's college graduation. Bernice made dinner reservations for everyone in the family and excluded my son and me. I told Simon how hurt I was. His response was, "I can't control my mother."

Abby, I was so fed up with having to swallow her abuse with no support from my husband that I kicked him out. I desperately wish he would confront his mother about her abusive behavior, but he's scared of her. I have tried talking to her about it, but when I do she just gets worse. I want to save my marriage, but I don't want Bernice around me or my son anymore. What should I do?

Had Enough in Grapevine, Texas

Abby had a bunch of crap about it being Simon’s job to take responsibility for his role in the conception of a child, then stand up to his mother, and some other nonsense. Here’s my unlicensed advice:

1) Don’t get married because you’re knocked up. I know it’s tempting to avoid having a bastard child and all, but a shotgun wedding isn’t going to change the fact that everyone knows you and this guy (or some guy) are bumpin’ uglies. Take some time, figure out if you’re right for each other.
2) Don’t date guys with no chutzpa. I mean really, if you had never started dating this half-assed excuse for a man, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Raising your dating standards a bit would have made this whole thing moot. I know parents can be difficult people to stand up to, but the bottom line is that in marrying you, he was picking you over his mother, and he should behave as such. Especially when she’s a horrid bitch.
3) Is your life a soap opera? Just checking.
4) Be honest, Bernice is ugly, isn't she? Come on, I won't tell her that you told me. But I'm willing to bet money she's one of those crabby women who, at one point in her life, was almost pretty. And here you are with your fountain of youth looks rubbing her expiring uterus in her face. Nothing you can really do about that. But I'd be willing to bet that everyone around you sees this whole thing for what it is: A woman's desperate and creepy attempt to keep her claws in her spineless son.
5) But here's the kicker, part of me suspects you did marry her son to tie him down. Because you're afraid of raising a baby by yourself. And that same part of me is willing to bet that this is your main concern about saving your marriage. So while you're waiting on Simon to take responsibility for himself, how about you do the same for you. What are your priorities? Do you really want to save your marriage or do you just want to save yourself from sleepless nights and diaper changings?

Here Goes Nothing

I've been blogging for a while, and have consistently been frustrated by one thing: I can't write about people who read it. I know, I know. But here's the thing, my friends give me more blogging material than I know what to do with, but some of them aren't too receptive to hearing what I actually think about their conundrums. And to be honest, I don't have the balls to tell them most of the time. Chick fights are fun and all, but still...

Here begins a little experiment in me writing what I really wish I had said.