Dear Life:

I saw this over at Heartbeats and Little Feet, and thought it was a great idea to unleash some pent up frustration on the things in life that I’m struggling to deal with. So, I’ve complied letters of my own struggles in life! Yippy.

Dear Archer;
I love you. You know I love you. But I’m really tired of the constant rampages you go on. The tantrums of epic proportion that you throw every time you don’t get your way, the ones that last for 20+ minutes…those ones? They can stop. I get when you’re mad about something, but you need to chill out. You can’t always have your way, and seriously trying to stand on a tote to reach the counter is not a good idea. And your game of taking all the knobs off of my kitchen drawers and then hiding them? Sucks. Sorry, but it does. It’s not as funny as you think it is. Maybe the first time, when you hide them all in the toaster, but now it’s just repetitive, boring, and dare I say…annoying. I also understand how cold it is outside and how frustrated you are having to wait for Nolan’s bus, but the hat and mitts and blanket I put on you do help with that…if you leave them on. So, leave them on. I also don’t want to be outside braving the elements. No one does.

Dear Nolan:
I understand that taking 5, maybe 10 minutes away from playing to sit on the toilet is frustrating and boring, but seriously…do it anyway. Stop trying to hold it, start going when you have to. Preferably on the toilet. That two week span of no bowel movements? SUCKED. I enjoy giving you suppositories about as much as you enjoy getting them – not at all. So, eat your damn prunes with a smile and most importantly; stop trying to hold it. Pooping is a messy, necessary part of life. Do it in the toilet and make that mess a little more easy to contain and clean up, ok?

Dear Laundry:
Seriously…do yourself.

Dear Ulcers:
Stop plaguing my husband. We get it now, he needs to change his diet, develop better eating habits and stop smoking. Could you please stop with the STABBY STAB STAB pain, so he can finish this last week of work before holidays? Please?

Dear Luck:
Please change. Please. Between the near death experiences, the van blowing up, and now the ulcers…I think we’ve had enough of the bad luck. Take it easy on us and stop kicking us when we are down. (Which seems to be all the time, lately).

Dear School:
I understand that you have a no touch policy, which states that teachers and EAs can’t help students with bathroom issues. I understand, even if I don’t agree. But…when my kid doesn’t want to go outside to play? When he’s being stubborn and argumentative? It means he has to poop. So send him to the toilet and forget about your need to get everyone out the door for recess at the same time. I know it’s not “your job” to remind him to use the bathroom, but the kid is four. With bowel issues. And I’ve clearly discussed this at length with you. He needs reminders. It’s shitty, I know, but he does. And WHEN he does have an accident, I’d kinda hope that you’d clue in before it gets to the dried flakey mess. I’m sure it’s detectable, that kid doesn’t fart fresh air. I’ve told you he can’t clean up himself after that point, so don’t let him lock himself in the bathroom for 30 minutes before calling me. Possibly longer, since he didn’t eat his lunch. And the judgmental clicking of the tongue? That can stop. Nolan knows the basis of potty training, but shitty bowels make actually accomplishing it hard.

Dear Body:
Please stop being so worn out and sore all the time. I’d really like to clean my house without wanting to collapse, or walk or stand or or or. I’d also like to stop coughing up a lung.

Dear Matt’s Work:
I know it’s frustrating to have an employee take so much time off work since they started there, but you really can’t blame Matt. He loves his job. It’s not his fault he was nearly crushed to death on the first week and had to spend a month recovering from that. It’s not his fault that the stress of that accident coupled with the financial stress of having a family has helped push those stomach ulcers of his into causing him serious pain, time spent in the emergency room and time off work. It’s not like he’s skipping work to drink margaritas in Cuba. Trust me, he’d rather be at work than stuck withering in pain at home, listening to the nonstop temper tantrums. And he’d really rather never, ever, ever have to go to the emergency room again, because he hates hospitals and hates being in pain. So please don’t be any harder on him than he already is. All he wants is to get back to work and not be doubled over in agonizing pain. Have you ever had ulcers? They’re not exactly a walk in a park! Especially when they are inflamed and nearly ready to burst.


Dear Santa:
I’ve been good this year. Kind of. Maybe you could leave a little something under the tree for me? Maybe financial stability for my whole family, good health, and more sanity? If you can’t leave any of those, boxes of wine will due. Maybe 365 of them.



About J.C. Hannigan

25. Mother. Wife. Lover of words. Weaver of stories. My first book, Collide, is available in e-book for Amazon Kindle and Kobo.
This entry was posted in bitchin' and moanin', blogging, clearly TMI, complaining, happenings, hard stuff, heaviness, honesty, iPhone posting, issues, letters, musings, personal, tidbits, tough stuff, uncensored, updates, us, verbal diarrhea, wants, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Dear Life:

  1. Megan says:

    Love this! It’s got to get better, right!? 🙂

  2. Aussa Lorens says:

    This is an excellent idea… both in a humorous rant and serious therapy sort of way! I’m sorry your husband has ulcers :-/ And I hope hope hope that your luck changes!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s