Medicine, Animals and a Dream

Happy Birthday to me ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

2011-09-13T16:40:00.003-04:00

Gosh. Another one. Funny how they sneak up on you after so many. I wonder how many more. I wonder if they will all be as dreaded as this one and the past few. Sometimes it would just be easier not to have any more, to..uh..celebrate. Shouldn't be listening,but...

Mothers Day 2011

2011-05-08T22:15:00.004-04:00

I hope the mothers out there had a peaceful day. I know the cards all say, "Happy" Mothers Day, but I believe peaceful is just as good. As mothers, some of us carry around extreme loads of guilt. Guilt for either things we did or failed to do, or guilt for ways in which we perceive we failed our children.

I have plenty of guilt myself. I was never"mothered" as a child so the mothering I did I learned on my own. Some of it was good, some of it was not. I was young, and chances are I was bipolar as well.

I have learned this about guilt; number one, ask your Heavenly Father to forgive you. He will. Next, ask forgiveness from those you have wronged. They either grant you that forgiveness or not but if you ask in earnest that is all you can do. Then, FORGIVE YOURSELF.

That last part is the hardest part. You may have to do it several times over several years. Keep doing it until it "takes", lol. "Fake it till you make it" as the old saying goes.

I forgive myself, again today. On this Mothers Day, 2011, I forgive myself for not being perfect.

Oldies Goodies Maybe....

2011-05-06T23:08:00.003-04:00

I've been sitting here listening to some of the top 100 songs from 1999. I can listen to this genre of songs and it carries me back like certain smells will do.

I don't remember other years like I do this one. I mean sure, I remember the 70's because that is when I was young and semi-free. 1999 now, that was when I became free again for the first time in 24 years. I like the songs, but the feelings they leave me with is mixed.

On the one hand, I love remembering the freedom, but on the other hand I feel much older than the short 12 years it has been. I feel like I have lost part of me along the way.

Middle age?

Mothers Day

2011-05-02T23:32:00.001-04:00

Every year I dread the day that mothers across our land are receiving flowers and cards and other tokens of appreciation and love.

It isn’t that I don’t want to wish my mother a happy Mothers Day. Oh no. I settled that ghost in my mind a long time ago. I know in my heart my mother did the best she could at the time, given the tools that had been passed down to her. I love my mother. I even talk to her several times a week now.

No, it is me. I was (am) a mother. Evidently I was a worse one than I remember, although I too did the very best I knew how, given those same tools that were given to me.

Regardless of how bad things got between my mother and me, I never once forgot to remember her on Mothers Day. In 45 years, I never failed to send her a card if nothing else.

Mothers Day is not an opportunity to “bless” your mother depending on what kind of job she did. It is not a “payback” based on your opinion of how she raised you. It is simply a “Thank You”. Thank you for trying. Thank you for caring. Thank you for hanging in there. Thank you for loving me even though you may not have been very demonstrative about it. Thank you for getting up during long nights when I was sick. Thank you for doing your best to teach me to be kind to others.

Bless your mothers this Sunday; and every other day too.

New and Improved !!!

2011-01-18T20:27:00.003-05:00

I must get back to my writing. It gives me a sense of accomplishment when I can actually get pen to paper (so to speak) and now that I am unemployed (after giveing Huge Corporation the best 10 years of my life) I need that sense of accomplishment.

I will try my best not to do the "depression/manic swing" type of posts any more.

Welcome back me

:-)

De-escalation of the BIG NEWS

2011-01-18T18:58:00.002-05:00

Okay. I am down off my, "OH MY GOSH I'M GONNA BE A NEW GRANNY" high.

I have been properly put in my place by a gentle reminder that, "No. You will probably NOT be keeping him at your house every week".

I know. I understand. It is going to be tough with this one though.

BIG News

2011-01-17T22:07:00.003-05:00

Today, I received some HUGE news! I am so excited I can barely get to sleep. My daughter is preggo.....again!!!

She has three daughters, ages 15, 14 and 8 and now we have another little on the way.

With the first two, I didn't work and they would stay with me for several days at a time several times a month. That was so wonderful. When the last one was born I was working and after being at work 9 hours every day and being just plain old wiped out, I didn't have the energy to have her over even on weekends. I am looking forward to creating that bond with this one.

Welcome little one; and HURRY!!! Granny loves you.

New Year or 50 Years?

2011-01-01T00:10:00.003-05:00

As this old year has come to an end, my mind has driven into overdrive. I hate it when I do this.

We live in an area that has 3 major universities within a 50 mile radius. There is one particular grocery store I go to that always has a lot of college students shopping there. Tonight was no different.

As I saw one after the other going down the isles, I began thinking about the world I missed out on. I wondered what it would have been like to go to college. What my dorm room would have looked like, or would I have lived off campus in an apartment. What kind of friends I would have made. What kind of grades I could have maintained. Would I have been a partier; or settled in with just a close friend or two.

Then, I thought about where I would be career wise had I got an education. Would I be in medicine? Would it be human or animal? Would I have married or chosen to remain single.

Finally, I began thinking about the mistakes I have made in my life. Where I’d be if I had shown more self-control in some areas. How many people would not have been hurt by my actions?

Maybe it isn’t just the new year coming quickly upon me. Maybe it is the fact I am 50. Fifty sounds so ancient to me. It sounds like I should be further in my life. Have more to show for 50 years I have been here. Be happier, more content, instead of looking back over the mistakes I have made and where I’d be had I not made them.

I love everyone in my life. I would not have traded my loved ones for anything, so this is not a slam against anyone. Some of them I would not have had I not taken the roads I took.

I just can’t help but think though. Should there not be more out there to shoe for 50 years?

Seasons in the Sun

2010-09-30T19:36:00.002-04:00

I heard the Terry Jacks song, "Seasons in the Sun" today. I was reminded of climbing trees, playing ball in the neighborhood, riding my mini-bike, playing in the yard with my dog.

I remember hurrying through homework so I could get outside with my friends. Playing so long and so hard. Getting all sweaty and dirty. Hurrying through supper so I could get back outside with my friends.

I miss my friends.

Pretending

2010-07-19T10:22:00.002-04:00

I used to pretend everything was different. Outsiders would never have guessed. I don't even have the energy to pretend any longer. Not even just for me.

Th Perfect Mother

2010-05-11T08:50:00.002-04:00

I was not a perfect mother. Matter of fact - I was FAR from it. I had just turned 16 when my daughter was born and I had no clue how to be a mother.

I was a yeller and I was way too strict. I used a little paint stirrer stick for spankings. I expected A's when B's and C's should have sufficed. I did not buy her name brand clothes and for that she suffered ridicule from her peers. She didn't get to go to all the functions she wanted to go to, and according to her when she did go she felt like she was a "charity case".
I was a stay-at-home mother and we just didn't have the money for these things every time.

I took my child to my shrink years ago when she was 15 and asked her forgiveness and along with my shrink explained why I mothered in the fashion that I did. I was abused horribly as a child, and my mother had it even worse when she was a child. I'm not placing blame, just explaining how things turned out the way they did.

Over the next 15 years, I allowed her to "vent" to me about how bad her childhood was. She was allowed to say whatever she needed to say and I answered any questions she had. I won't attempt to guess how many times I have apologized for my actions. I also know that no matter how many times I apologize, nothing could make up for the actions she suffered from.

As a grandmother, the first few years of the grandchildren's lives I kept them a lot. The first two, I kept for days at a time several times a month for 2 or 3 years. I enjoyed every minute of it. Once I went to work outside the home, and as my mental health has become worse, I have had no energy - physical or mental - to keep them or go to games and other functions that they participate in. Working from 8 until 5 every day then going straight to a ball game or whatever it happened to be was just too much for me. This caused friction with my daughter as well.

Her youngest child, has behavioral issues and does not like to be told "No" nor be told what to do. She will for instance, aggravate the dogs and when told to stop she will turnright around and do it again. She doesn't allow adults to talk without constantly interupting them. I had never been around a child who behaved this way and after trying to keep her at my home without her mother once, and having to call her mother to come get her, (which NEVER happened with the others), I knew I could not keep her for visits. Because of this, my daughter told us that if we can't keep her we can't keep the other two either. She said it wasn't fair.

A few months ago, she made several comments pertaining to her childhood and how sorry it was and how she would never put her children through the same thing. She HATED how she couldn't wear "nice" clothes and she HATED how she couldn't go to all the extracurricular activities she wanted to go to and she was determined her kids would have better.

After the last vent session, and a comment made on facebook about how she believed she was born to aliens and put in our family, I decided in my heart that I was finished letting her say things to me about it all. I cannot take it back and I feel like 15 years of letting her "vent" is enough. As I get older these things were beginning to wear on me more and more and my mental health is not in the category of "healthy" to begin with.

I wrote her a letter and told her I no longer wanted her to tell me about how bad a mother I was and how bad her childhood was. I tried to explain it in as nice a way possible while not taking away from the fact she did have a rough childhood.

Since then, she has had very little to do with me. Mothers Day came and went with no word. This isn't the first Mothers Day I've been ignored, but it bothered me the most.

I'm sorry I wasn't a perfect mother. I'm sorry she felt so "different" from the other kids because she didn't have the name brand clothes. I'm sorry she didn't get to go to every function and that she felt she was a charity case. I did the best I knew how to do at the time, with the resources available to us on my husbands income. I would have loved to have had more clothes instead of wearing the same 2 or 3 dresses to church every week. I would have loved to have been able to do some things I enjoyed as well. Instead I was too busy doing my best to keep a home for four people on a one person budget.

I am very happy that her husband is able to provide all these things on his income alone so that she doesn't have to work. He obviously makes much more money that her daddy did. I am happy that her kids won't come to her one day and complain about what they didn't have or where they didn't get to go. I hope she never has to feel the way I feel at this stage in my life.

Mothers Day ??

2010-05-09T19:25:00.002-04:00

In my nearly 50 years, from the time I was old enough, I NEVER forgot my mother on Mothers Day. Nor did I ever ignore her. We may not have been close, but I have always respected the job of raising me that she did her best at.

I forget now just how many mothers days have passed that I have been forgotten or ignored by my children.

2010-04-07T22:14:00.002-04:00

I haven't been doing this. I have thought about it and determined in my heart not to write unless I can say something positive. But tonight, I can't sleep or get in a position that doesn't hurt, so I'm gonna break my rule.......................... again.

Since I lost my job in January, I have felt so lost. I don't miss the drama and the stress, but the actual work I did, I miss that. I was good at what I did. I was virtually error free and whether or not that company appreciated it - I did a good job for them. I miss having a purpose; somewhere to get up and go to every day. ROUTINE!

I have tried to incorporate a routine into my new life. I still get up early. There is one positive on that; I can take my pain meds and sit for 20-30 minutes until they kick in. I couldn't do that when I was working because I didn't want to drive after taking them, I'd have to wait until I was at work to take them and by then the pain was intense.

Sometimes my mind will replay that afternoon when my boss took me in his office and said, "I have some bad news". As soon as he said that I knew what was coming. Ever since I went back from my "nervous breakdown" 4 weeks earlier, I felt they were trying to push me into quitting. Really, it was a relief. As much as I loved what I did, it was such a stressful atmosphere it was eating me alive. I've never done well around "yellers" or people who might go 8 hours and never speak to you.

I guess I've entered a new phase of my life. I don't like "new". Soon, maybe I won't see it as new.

I think back a lot. Too much. Some people have a drinking problem; I have a "thinking problem". I am aware of this and I am working on it. But I was thinking back trying to decide when it was I was really happy. I think I know now...it was when I had children at home. As much as they got on my nerves sometimes, I miss when my kids were little, or at least when they were at home. My son still has nothing to do with me. It has been 10 years since I left his daddy and he still has not forgiven me. There is a difference now though - I can think about it and write about it and not break down. Maybe that is a self-protection mechanism...you just kind of become cold to the situation.

I think about my parents. They are getting old. I never thought that would happen. We were never close. They were always busy and working and trying to survive their own dramas of middle age and I just kind of grew up without them. Now, as they have gotten older, they want to have this parent-child relationship. I'm working on that. At first, it was kind of an artificial relationship, but now it is more real. I love them. I'm going to miss them terribly when they die. I'll miss them for what they are now, and I'll miss them for what should have been way back when.

My marriage is ... "different". He is super good to me. He has stood beside me through all this mental illness. He does whatever he can to make me happy and comfortable. If it were not for the big elephant in the room it would be an ideal marriage. That elephant though sits there - blocking that full, open, "safe" relationship. On my part anyway.

So this is where I stand today. Searching for whatever is missing. Whatever is keeping that all elusive "happy" that I know must be out there if I could just unravel the web that is my mind.

Terminated

2010-02-03T08:29:00.004-05:00

I was terminated from my job of 10 years week before last. That is a huge adjustment but I am actively trying to keep an eye on my mental health while I adjust.

It was a shock. I wasn't allowed to take anything with me but my purse, and after 10 years I had plenty of personal items in the office and breakroom. They packed it all up the next day and my husband went after it all. He said my boss turned his head and wouldn't even speak to him.

They said it was because my position was being eliminated, but it happened just four weeks after I came back from a 4 week MLOA due to what I pretty much think of as a "nervous breakdown".

I had never in 10 years been out of work before that. They said the MLOA wasn't it, but who knows. I had asked for help in the past couple of months; basically asking if the guys in the office could help with the constant phone calls coming in. I was having a hard time concentrating and being constantly interrupted was NOT helping.

I was told that it was my job and that wasn't going to change. Just weeks after asking for help they fired me.

For 10 years I had received yearly raises and bonuses. Nothing negative in my file at all. Then I got sick.

Thinking Back

2009-12-30T15:42:00.005-05:00

Back in my day, teachers didn't tell what they saw. Neighbors minded their own business. Relatives didn't get involved.
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Still Hanging On

2009-12-16T16:49:00.002-05:00

I'm still alive. Back to work today after 4 weeks MLOA. I've never been so bad I had to be put out of work until now. Not ready to come back but no choice unless I want to risk losing my position.

On Seroquel at 300mg. It is very sedating for me even tho I take it at night. I'm going to give it a couple of weeks more but it has to get better for me to stay on it.

Also on Pristiq 50 & Lamictal 200.

Ativan did nothing.
Klonipin (sp?) did nothing.
Tranxene made me feel "weird" so I quit taking that.

The anxiety has eased about 40% I'd say. The depression about 50%.

Sometimes I think all I have left is 20 more years of major depression minus 50%. Can't ever seem to get any better than that. It is only slightly better than wishing you wouldn't wake up.

Seroquel

2009-12-01T20:17:00.002-05:00

Well, the Tranxene didn't put out the fire, so today he put me on Seroquel. In two weeks if there is no improvement, (or before then if things get too much worse), we're looking at hospitalization.

I've never been in the hospital, much less the "nut house" - and I feel I can use that term because I am a nut. Kind of scary to think about based on movies I have watched, but this feeling is scary too. Tit for tat I suppose.

Deep and Dark

2009-11-29T20:28:00.003-05:00

Its so dark. My body will only go in slow motion. I am crying 70% of my waking hours. I wake a million times a night. Hopelessness is all I see in front of me.

I cannot stand to talk; Idon't even feel "real" most of the time. Try and explain that to someone. Now I am supposed to go back to work Tuesday and I don't know how I can manage. I can't afford to lose my job. I've been there 10 years - just long enough to make decent money for someone with no education. Not to mention my day is at a desk so that is easy on my back.

I feel so helpless and hopeless.

I would never do it on my own, but God how I wish I could just die without embarrassing or hurting anyone.

Holidays

2009-11-24T12:18:00.003-05:00

For now, I am doing okay.

My shrink put me out of work for 2 weeks in order to "Put out the fire" as he phrased it. As you can imagine my employer is not one bit happy about this even thought in 10 years I have never taken a leave. As a matter of fact, the first thing he asked when I called and told him was, "Can you do your work from home?"

The anxiety was constant and it was like one big long panic attack all day, not to mention I was crying all day long. Makes it hard to work with any semblance of someone who has any sense.

He said we couldn't really work on the depression much until we get the anxiety under control.

That's it for now. Happy Thanksgiving and for those of you for whom holidays are hard, I understand.

Black Holes

2009-11-10T23:05:00.003-05:00

Once again I find myself in the black hole filled with severe depression and a feeling of anxiety that doesn't go away. It feels like my body is shaking from the inside out and my heart races and I sweat like a fiend. Kind of like having one long panic attack.

Doc can't seem to get the meds right this time. Pristiq is the latest and so far I'm just getting worse.

I have had real problems going to work everyday. When I get there the tears flow freely off and on all day long. The strong desire to stay home where I am in my own little safe world has been pulling at me for weeks now. The severe depression isn't helping much either.

I have missed more days the past 4 months than I have the entire 10 years I have been on my job. Not good. My employer feels depression is simply a case of pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get on with it. What he doesn't understand, (yet), is that I am having a very hard time concentrating on my work. I work with 14,000 manhours a week I have to properly pay and bill for. It is only a matter of time before I screw something up royally, then I guess he will understand...just before he hands me a pink slip. "Would you like fries with that?" could be the next phrase I'll be learning.

It isn't just the depression this time. I have having bouts of rage that come from nowhere. I've never been an angry person. Being angry scares me.

Needless to say they can't seem to find the proper cocktail of meds to pull me out of the black hole I find myself in....again. I have never been hospitalized, but I wonder if I shouldn't be right now.

This gets so very old and discouraging to think I have years of living this way before me. I don't even remember what "normal" feels like.

Again... Again & Again & Again

2009-10-26T14:25:00.003-04:00

Sluggish. That is the definition I would use. Like walking under water, or through mud, or like swimming fully clothed.

I am tapering off the anti-depressant. I will start the new one soon. I feel as if my body is someone else's. I wake in the mornings and am disappointed that He didn't take me during the night. I am not ungrateful for His mercy; I'm just so very tired of fighting this.

Not sure if it is the tapering of the Cymbalta or just the fact it is no longer working, but my body has never felt this bad. My brain has something going on that I can only describe as electrical "zaps". The nausea, the dizziness, the panicky feeling.

He did give me Klonipin to tide me over until the tapering is done - it doesn't soothe the anxiety - it only makes me feel "out-of-control" and extremely sleepy.

He increased the Lamictal - to "keep me between the ditches" was how he described it.

You know I don't even remember who I was when I was "normal".

Black Dog’s Return

2009-10-09T15:39:00.003-04:00

He’s back.

The Black Dog of depression has returned with a vengeance.

Since 1992 I have been treated with anti-depressants. Since 1992, these medications will stop being effective somewhere between 1.5 to 3 years after beginning them. It never, ever gets easier.

This last time they were changed, Lamictal was added and it worked! I no longer had any imagination for writing or much else, but at least I was not awakening every morning only to regret it. It has been 2 years and 3 months. I probably started going down about 4-5 months ago, but like weight gain, when you see it every single day, you don’t notice it until something no longer fits.

Every time it happens, I hit absolute bottom before I realize I am there again. Every time, I tell myself I should have caught that I was going down hill, yet I never do.

I hate being like this. Every single time it happens I go through the same old storyline in my mind; if I were just stronger; if I just had more faith; if I would just pick myself up by my boot straps; all the ifs come washing back over me like a wave.

I pray that one day they will know what causes a brain to not work normally, and find a cure so that no more generations will have to live with the anguish that is my mind.

Hard Times

2009-07-07T16:46:00.001-04:00

Hasn’t been this hard in a loooooooooooooooooooooong time.

I am recovering from some type of infection. Horribly sore throat, temps of 103, just pretty much a feeling of being run over by a MAC truck if you know what I mean.

Do antibiotics affect the psyche drugs? Maybe it was just being down sick for 4 days and not being able to eat.

Whatever…hasn’t been this hard in a while.

Prevent Adultery

2009-06-29T23:03:00.005-04:00

Adultery

Take my word for it, we never just awaken one day and think, “Hey, I think I’ll ruin a few lives today”. It begins with flattery, maybe a little “harmless” flirting.

Just as someone who has not exercised in years would not suddenly get out there and just take off in a 5k run, they would take it slow, a little bit at a time.

It’s the same way with adultery. You would never dream of yourself as capable of adultery. It is a black and white issue. Then the flirting begins - the feelings of “well I’m not getting what I need at home” or “I’m not appreciated at home.”

Listen to the song as you read the words:

Be careful little eyes what you see
It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings

Be careful little feet where you go
For it's the little feet behind you that are sure to follow

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade

Be careful little ears what you hear
When flattery leads to compromise, the end is always near
Be careful little lips what you say
For empty words and promises lead broken hearts astray

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day

The journey from your mind to your hands
Is shorter than you're thinking
Be careful if you think you stand
You just might be sinking

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away

People never crumble in a day
Daddies never crumble in a day
Families never crumble in a day

Oh be careful little eyes what see
Oh be careful little eyes what you see
For the Father up above is looking down in love
Oh be careful little eyes what you see

Baby Steps

2009-06-19T16:32:00.000-04:00

At 48, I sometimes feel like a newborn. I feel like I am a little child learning life from the beginning. Like a stroke victim learning daily functions all over again. At 48 I can do anything I darn well please and answer to no one unless I decide to. I can cry. I can curse. I can throw things. (I don’t throw things, although sometimes I feel like it.) I can be angry.

I was not allowed to do these things growing up. Crying would get you smacked. Cursing would have gotten me killed I suppose, I was never dumb enough to test that theory. I was taught with the back of a hair brush or a comb across my face, (or whatever happened to be within reach) to keep my emotions level. No anger, no tears, no elation. Just “be” and do that very quietly.

I guess lately I have begun to test my limits. Like a toddler standing to her feet those first couple of times, testing her little legs' ability to walk, I am testing my ability to set my own boundaries and limits. It is a very scary thing to do. Maybe when it is done naturally, at the ages where it is appropriate, it isn’t as frightening, but doing it now at my age is very frightening.

I find my justified anger at work most unsettling. I liken it to when I bought my new roller ball mouse. A roller ball mouse is very different. You lay your hand over the mouse and it never moves. You only move the ball with your thumb. It was distressingly hard to become accustomed to this mouse, but I knew it would be better ergonomically because I was beginning to have some wrist pain. At first though, it was clumsy, difficult and felt unnatural.

That is how my “new” anger feels. Clumsy, unnecessary, pointless. WRONG.

I’m learning though. I am learning I CAN be angry and it is okay. I am learning it is okay to laugh and be happy WITHOUT waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Wonders

2009-05-21T16:04:00.000-04:00

My son, who chose to no longer have a relationship with me after his father and I divorced, may be coming around.

His wife, who also avoided me all these years, emailed me a month ago and asked me if I wanted to ride with her to have my grandson’s pre-op work for his corneal transplant.

My grandson is 8. He was born blind because of chemo and multiple surgeries when his mother was found to have bone cancer during the first three weeks of pregnancy.

I was completely and utterly shocked at this email. Having no idea why I was asked, after all this time, I was very nervous about saying yes but in my gut knew that I would go.

We made that trip this week. It was a wonderful 4 hour drive there. We spent the night and went to visit all the doctors involved the next day and drove home that afternoon. This was my first real interaction with my grandson. He has a sister who I have not been “allowed” to visit as well.

My daughter-in-law and I talked and laughed the entire time. She and my son were high school sweethearts and I knew her like one of my own until my ex-husband did everything he could to turn my son against me during our divorce.

Over the ten years it has been this way, I have learned not to get my hopes up about our relationship being put back together, but I have to believe this was a first step.

My grandson will be having his transplant on June 1. Please pray for him and his family during this time. All the trips back and forth will be hard on them financially and otherwise. Pray that the transplant will be successful. I can’t even dream of what it will be like for him to finally see.

Her Mom's Brain

2009-05-21T15:40:00.002-04:00

I recently found a new BLOG I have come to love.

The writer is the grown daughter of an Alzheimer’s patient.

She is very open and very honest. See for yourself.

2009-05-14T23:20:00.002-04:00

I have learned more and more about ignoring my feelings. I've worn that mask for so many years, it goes on each morning as naturally as make-up.

I feel invisible on my job. I don't think my office mates, (who are also my superiors) have a clue what I actually do. They don't seem to "get" that my work sometimes requires being uninterrupted.

My mother doesn't remember the abuse and the severe neglect, or how she threw me out when I became pregnant at 15, she only remembers how long it has been since I called her or visited her last.

My husband doesn't remember the hot sex we had that drew us together in the first place, and now he doesn't want it. He doesn't (?) understand how much I am hurting from this decision, not how tempted I am to rectify it in some other arena.

But I put that mask on, every day, along with my eye liner and mascara.

Black Sheep and the I.C.U.

2009-04-16T22:06:00.003-04:00

My daddy is really sick. Earlier this week he went to the emergency room with severe stomach pain and vomiting. After many hours lying there, they discovered he had a bowel obstruction.

When they did the surgery, they couldn’t get him off the vent right away. They also found he had aspiration pneumonia. He is running a fever. His lungs are just all crunky. They have him in ICU.

My sister and daddy’s wife have been up there with him the most. I live in the next county from them. It is harder for me to just up and leave my job to stay up there. I am getting very little bits and pieces of everything that is going on. When I was there this evening, his wife couldn’t even explain to me why they were talking about him going into rehab when he leaves the hospital. They found a heart murmur, but I can’t think of any reason that would require the rehab. The man though is 76 years old, could run circles around a lot of people my age. He goes to the gym several days a week, he does a his own yard work, he was highly healthy until this.

My sister has talked to the doctor several times but she will not for whatever reason call me and tell me shit. She is nine years older than I. She has never had anything to do with me, and I have tried to form a relationship with her for years and years.

We’re the only two siblings. I always felt I was the black sheep…I made the noticeable mistakes. She lives in a big fancy house, drives expensive cars, and takes trips across the country 4-5 times a year. She is the golden child. But I can't get a call from her telling me how OUR daddy is. She goes to Mexico with her church and helps all the poor children there, she takes care of little ole ladies from her church, yet she refuses to give me straight from the doctor to her information.

My daughter, who is 33, went today to visit her papa and my sister was there. Sister didn’t even talk to my daughter unless she asked her a question, then she would answer and that was it.

Our family was a really fucked one. Bad stuff. But during a time like this can she not share information with me? Would it kill her to talk to me long enough for that? She has a cushy job and can come and go as she pleases and it is a mile from the hospital so she is up there a lot whereas I have to be in my office when no one else is there which is a lot of the time, plus I am in the next county. Takes me over an hour to get to the hospital where he is.

The Black Sheep rule shouldn’t count when your parent could die.

Strange Day...

2009-04-01T22:29:00.009-04:00

I had a rather strange day today.

I can't quite put my finger on it, but I felt, well, weird. I felt the past crawling up my shoulder trying to get in my face. Past that has been left in the past for a considerable length of time now.

I started having tears falling down my face, for seemingly no reason.

I have felt kind of bad physically for a while now. I seem to have started having some shortness of breath, and my back has been worse than usual. My ankles have started swelling, and that's something I haven't had to contend with until lately.

I feel distant from everyone, like I could go back inside myself again. Not leave my house.

I've started wondering why sex is always on my mind. Because I'm not getting any? It has to be more than that. If it was an orgasm I needed I could do that myself, probably quicker and stronger than those produced by someone else if you know what I mean.

Why do I feel so compelled to have sex? It is as if that is what proves someone loves me. I know my husband's testosterone level is in the ditch, so there is a perfectly good reason for him to have no desire. I still though, somewhere in my heart, need that to feel complete love from him.

I have also been terribly fatigued lately. It's just all I can do after work to get the zoo cleaned and fed and spend time with each animal. It's even hard to pray right now, to concentrate on my conversations with the Lord. Forget reading the Bible, all I can do is read the same verse over and over.

I hope and pray my meds aren't about to fizzle out. I've been through I don't know how many periods where they do and then it is hit and miss time all over again. Trying this one and that one and this combination or that combo. Those are very discouraging times for sure.

Usually when I walk in from work, my dogs can lift my spirits with all their greetings and kisses and bringing me toys. For two days that hasn't even helped.

I never miss work, but lately every morning I am checking out how I feel, trying to find a legitimate reason to call in.

I've hung on before and I'll hang on again but it sure gets harder every time.

Change Sucks

2009-03-26T14:31:00.002-04:00

"Change" sucks! It does. It really does.

I’ve been at my job for nine years. I changed titles 7 years ago because another job came open that I preferred over the one I had. Before the change, I was on call 24-7, had to make middle of the night site inspections, and take client to lunch for schmoozing. After a couple of years, I was getting to the point where the public anxiety thing was rearing its’ ugly head for the first time so when this other job opened up I jumped at the opportunity.

Well, as of this week my job has changed again, but not by choice. I will still be in the same office in the same desk, but my tasks have changed somewhat. I am very thankful I still have a job, and am thankful I am still able to stay off my feet most of the day (because of my back). However, people with bipolar DO NOT LIKE CHANGE.

I had my week planned down to a tee. I knew what I would be doing at what time every day, week after week, month upon month and year after year. I am the same way at home as well. Even my dogs know exactly what will happen when I walk in the door everyday. I raised my babies the same way. I nursed them when they wanted to eat, but otherwise we did everything else at the same time every day. Back then I didn’t know anything about bipolar, I just assumed I was anal. Now I realize why I was the way I was.

So now I have to change my schedule, and so far this week it has been horrible. I’m tense, my entire body aches, I was so ill yesterday (and for those of you NOT from the South,” ill” doesn’t mean I was sick, it means I was in the most horrible mood possible), that I wasn’t worth the lead it would have took to put me out of everybody’s misery.

I am sure that with time I will learn my new job, and I will get it all set up into a new comfy, cozy schedule. In the meantime, just don’t muck around with my emotions.

Obama and the Special Olympics

2009-03-20T23:46:00.003-04:00

This is the letter I sent to our President today.

Being the grandmother of a very dear special olympian contestant each year, I Sir, am appalled at the mindset of a president of the United States who would consider that a joke which you said on a talk show this week.

My grandbaby was born BLIND and severely retarded due to his mother going through bone cancer and the treatments it involved during her pregnancy. She risked her life to help her son be born rather than abort her child, while you make fun of what he and millions of others are born into this world as.

He was not epected to live, then was not expected to walk or sit up or basically ever do anything, but you better believe through the love of his family he has grown and leanrs new ways everyday as well as participates in that Special Olympics each and every year.

You smeared a nation of people with that mindset that was behind that remark Sir, as someone who was supposed to be the big social change president, you took us back 100 years and that lost you alot of respect in millions of families across this land.

With all due respect Sir, from this grandmother who has watched this child and his family suffer, SHAME ON YOU!

I signed with my address/phone for any response he might like to send.

Empty Nests

2009-03-20T16:45:00.004-04:00

It dawned on me today that my nest is empty forever more. My babies are 28 and 33, but this is “empty nest” thing is just now hitting me.

I was reading all about one of my favorite bloggers' recent vacation, and looking at her photos from that trip. Her descriptions of the trip take me back to our vacations when the kids were small, right down to the 30 mile traffic jam. The only difference is that she can tell the story much better than I could have.

I was a housewife for 19 of the years I was with them and their father. I never once felt I was wasting my time or letting life pass me by. When the baby hit 12 and didn’t seem to need me as much, then I felt kind of lost, but otherwise I knew I was where I should be.

I worried a lot. I was so sure I was screwing them up for life – sure they would wind up in therapy for their entire adult lives. I was never sure whether I was being too strict or not strict enough. I couldn’t decide when to let go a little. I worried that they would be embarrassed when they couldn’t wear the designer jeans, yet I knew the only way they would be able to is if I went to work.

I remember the sleepless nights when they were teething. Now, I can sleep as long as I want. I also remember the nights when they first started driving on their own…those nights were sleepless too until 10:00pm arrived. Soon, one of them will be teaching her own to drive.

I think about the colds that scared me, the stuffy noses, the braces, the broken bones and the swimming lessons. I miss them. Yeah they live up the road and I can see them, but I miss having them little, at home.

If I could do it again, I would worry less and laugh more. I would have bought that trampoline a couple of years earlier. I would have splurged and bought the designer jeans… at least one pair a year. I would look the other way when they grabbed cookies out of the cookie jar right before dinner.

Days of our Lives

2009-03-15T22:58:00.002-04:00

I have to tell you, I just have to. I have been hesitant to, but I refuse to let my fear stop me.

I am doing well these days. I am happy. I am finding joy in the little things that make up my life. I love my husband, sexless creature that he is. I love having that time on the weekends to bum around with him.

I love our little family, Thomas and Luke, Wilma and Fred, and all our other furry creatures. The rats and their cages that have to be cleaned often, the birds and their cages...ditto. The giant goldfish who has to have his water cleaned on a regular basis. Even the house that constantly throws crap around while we're at work every day, I like cleaning up.

My job I am so thankful for. It is a sitting job and with my back the way it is I could do no other kind. I have even learned not to panic when the boss is demanding something and I can't exactly put my fingers on what he wants. Heck, I've actually went out for lunch with the guys twice this month.

I will be getting my CWP soon and am on the lookout for a concealer purse for my Sigma 380. This weekend there are plans for husband and I to go out with friends from church. So far, I don't even feel worried about it.

My med cocktail has now been working for 3 years, a huge improvement over past varieties we have tried.

We had snow the other weekend. Not very common here. It was beautiful as you can see. Well...if you could see if BLOGGER were working correctly. Take my word for it it was very pretty!

Things are looking up. Thank you Jesus.

Virginity Lost Forever

2009-03-04T23:14:00.003-05:00

I grew up in church all my life. If the doors were open, we were there. I was a deacons’ kid, DK for short. We were only a tiny bit less trouble than the PK’s.

My daddy was best friends all those years ago with another deacon. They’re still best friends to this day. Dad’s friend had a son. He was 5 years older than me.

One day, he talked me into going riding with him in his car. Wanting to look cool to this almost 19 year old I hopped right in. We didn’t drive far, up the road to a trailer park.

When we got out and went into the trailer, I started feeling really weird, scared even. He had another guy with him, an older guy. They started telling me they wanted to have sex with me. I thought they were just messing around, picking on the little kid. Then he started taking my shorts and my panties off and laid me back on the bed.

The bed looked nasty. There was no furniture in the room, just the bed. There were no sheets on the bed either. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to talk him out of it and he said if I didn’t he would take me up the road to the church where the deacons were meeting and take me into him and I’d get in trouble for going off in his car. So, fearing getting in trouble and taking a beating when I got home, I told him to go ahead.

He stands there pulling off his pants and his underwear. I had never seen a man in underwear before, not even my daddy. When he pulled those off I got really scared. I had never seen a dick in my life. All I could think was how big and ugly it was.

He got down on the bed and opened my legs and holding his thing started pushing it in me. He pushed and he pushed and it was hurting. After a few more tries, he jerked it away and told the other guy to come in and try that he can’t get his to go in.

This other man, who I had never seen before came in the room. He already had his thing pulled out and was pulling at it, getting it hard. I immediately noticed his wasn’t as big as the first guys.

He opened my legs and leaned down on the bed far enough to push it in me. He didn’t do it easy or anything, just rammed it in until my hymen broke then he just shoved it in and out until he came.

He stood up, pulled his pants up and went in the bathroom where I could hear him pee. He never said a word to me the entire time. No kissing, no fondling. I was no more than a receptacle for them. The two were laughing at how the first one couldn’t even get his to go in. I was scared to death he was going to come back in there and try again.

I dressed and they took me back to a back road in my neighborhood and let me out. They didn’t talk to me or anything.

On my walk home, I could feel large chunks of blood and tissue coming out of me. I was hurting down there and was afraid to go home in case mama were to notice I was walking funny while I was trying to keep the blood and stuff from leaking out of my panties. It hurt so bad when he pushed it in and it was still pretty sore.

I finally made it home and to the bathroom where I immediately sat on the toilet and hear chunks of tissue and blood falling into the water. When it stopped dripping, I got in the shower and washed. I felt so nasty. So dirty. I didn’t even know the mans name who did it.

I had just turned 13 ten days earlier. One of them was almost 19 and the other older than the first. I don’t know how much older, must have been at least 24 or 25.

I never told this. I was worried about all the blood and tissue coming out but I couldn’t ask. It has been a secret all these years. On Fathers Day I always go to church with my daddy to his church. Every time, I see him, the one who couldn’t get his to go in.

I hadn’t thought about all this in a long, long time until last week when it popped in my mind out of no where. I felt dirty all over again. Nasty. I lost my virginity to a complete stranger. I was barely 13 years old. I had only kissed a boy that summer for the first time. Until he put it in me, I wasn’t even really sure how sex worked.

I still feel dirty after 33 years.

Christians and Suicide

2009-02-16T09:03:00.001-05:00

Out interim pastor at our church, told us that he lost a dear friend this past week to suicide. He said he had known this gentleman for years and they had been on mission trips to other countries together several times.

He talked about how you would have never known his friend had any feelings that would have lead to suicide. He told us how he had cried a lot this week knowing he was gone. Then he mentioned how just that morning, on his way to our church, he had cried just thinking about it all.

His tears this morning, were for all the people who looked up to this gentleman as a man of God, and how his committing this sin must have hurt them, and how he prayed this act would not be a stumbling block for them.

I believe in God. I believe Jesus, God's son, gave His life willingly for my salvation. I have been in church most of my life because of my belief, to praise God along side other believers, and to hear the Word of God taught.

Church people, like everyone else, can be good, bad, cruel and wonderful. There are hypocrites in the church just as there are hypocrites in the work place and in the shopping centers. We’re all human. If churches were only for perfect people there would be no need for churches.

When it comes to mental illness, the church is just as bad as everybody else. The stigma is just as deeply ingrained, the misconceptions, just as stupid.

Our pastors’ friend did not “sin”. He was mentally ill. The sickness in his mind was lying to him. The pain in his mind, seemed to have become bigger than his resources for coping with his pain, so he ended that pain.

I am thankful this morning that his friend is with Jesus now. His pain is gone forever and he basks in the agape’ love of the Heavenly Father forever.

Granny, Holey, Period Panties

2009-02-12T15:28:00.007-05:00

Snort. I laugh just typing that title in.

I have loads of panties. All cotton and all colors. All Granny Panty style. There ain't no thongs to be found in my house. No butt in my house meets the requirements of a thong.

I have what I thought was an average number of panties, probably around 12? Is that normal - average? Panties are just not what I think about when I am out hurriedly doing my shopping.

I also have a few rag-tag pair I refer to as my Period Panties. (Only God knows why I still need them. I had thought all my life that once the hot flashes started the periods ended, but nooooooooooo, according to my Gyn this could go on for ten years.)

Anyhow, back to the Period Panties...I have a few pair that I keep just for that purpose, you know, so I don't ruin my GOOD Granny Panties . Some of my Period Panties are just sad looking. Okay, most of them are very sad looking. Some even have a hole or possibly even a failing piece of elastic.

This morning, I reach in my Granny Panty drawer to grab a pair and all that is left in there is one really frail pair of Period Panties. (It has been a very busy and stressful week and laundry has been placed on the back burner.) I mean my worst pair. I mean there is a hole where part of the sticky strip on the Feminine Napkin is supposed to stick. (No more tampons for me - my female innards went shopping for new real state some 2 - 3 years ago. Tampons just aren't comfortable any longer.)

I guess when I threw them back in the drawer after the last laundry I must have been thinking about the economy, afraid I might have to buy more Granny Panties to replace Period Panties or something. So, this morning, I put them on since the option of going au naturale' is not acceptable what so ever.

I just noticed that I seem to be a tad sore Down There. I can't think for the life of me think why & then I remember the panties. Evidently the area with the hole has twisted things around and caused a little fleshy area to become irritated.

Au naturale' is beginning to sound better and better, but what if I have a wreck on the way home? I'm not sure which would be worse...having the ER staff laugh at a fat middle aged chick wearing NO undies, or laughing at a fat chick with holey Granny Period Panties.

Decisions… Decisions… Decisions…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PS...

Yeah...I'm coming back.

I don't think Wellsphere is interested in me anymore.

Wellsphere + HealthCentral = Death of my blog

2009-01-30T10:40:00.002-05:00

My BLOG, which has seen me through many dark days, and nights, is going away now.

I was one of many suckers who fell for the Wellsphere email where Dr. Geoffrey W. Rutledge and allowed him, through an RSS feed, to place my posts on his site.

Recently Wellsphere was sold, for what was probably a huge sum:

HealthCentral Acquires Wellsphere Creating the Largest Organically Driven

Online Health and Wellness Communities

Deal Adds Nearly Four Million Unique Visitors per Month to HealthCentral Reach
Arlington, VA / San Mateo, CA (January 28, 2009) – HealthCentral (www.HealthCentral.com), the leading collection of online condition-specific consumer health and wellness experiences, today announced the acquisition of Wellsphere, a leading health technology company, adding nearly 4 million monthly unique visitors to HealthCentral’s audience. The acquisition combines HealthCentral’s high-quality, condition-specific interactive experiences, content and audience with Wellsphere’s aggregation of over 1,500 health and wellness bloggers and unique Health Knowledge Engine™ technology that deciphers highly specific health information. HealthCentral also will leverage Wellsphere’s health community enterprise technology which powers Stanford University’s BeWell@Stanford site (http://stanford.wellsphere.com) to deliver valuable health information and wellness tools for Stanford employees. The deal raises HealthCentral’s audience of its owned properties to ten million unique visitors per month, and makes the company the largest organic aggregation of online health and wellness communities.

Needless to say all the money made from this site was made because of posts from Bloggers like me and you.

I have tried to get them to stop pulling posts from my blog, with no success. Rather than give away any more of my material, some of which probably suck to be honest, I am closing my blog.

I have met many people through my blog, and so many of you touched me in many ways when I was in my darkest periods. Thank you all for you kindness and friendship.

If anyone is interested in knowing when/if I decide to create another, let me know and I will in turn let you know where to find me.

A Wake up Call

2009-01-26T22:17:00.006-05:00

Last week, one of our employees had a sister to shoot herself. This was her second time shooting herself. The first time she barely missed her heart.

Her husband said he thought everything was fine as he went out to the driveway to get the morning paper. When he walked back in the house, she was dead. She was 54 years old. She was a very beautiful lady.

The employees wife called me to let the office know what had happened. It was strange talking to her. I hope I said the right things.

Suicide "runs" in my family. My uncle hanged himself in his 40's. He drove a nail in the wall about head high, looped his belt around his nect and stuck one of the belt holes on the nail. Then he lifted his feet until he was dead. The coroner said at any time he could have just put his feet down and stood up. My grandmother tried to kill herself once that I know of as well.

It would never be admitted, because in my family we don't admit things that could be embarassing, but I am fairly sure my sister tried as a young teenager. I came home from first grade one day and both her wrists were bandaged up. I was told she cut her wrists when a milk bottle broke while she was washing dishes . But both wrists?!?

Last week, for the first time since my uncles death, I saw the effects of a suicide on family members, again, but at an older more mature age. It was a wake up call.

Photo borrowed from here

Pie Safe

2009-01-14T14:03:00.005-05:00

Back in my former life, I almost got into antiques there for a while. After just a few pieces I came to the realization that this hobby was NOT for poor people.

One of the things I purchased before I came to my senses, was a pie safe.

I just saw one online exactly like mine. I cannot get over the price they are asking for it !! $895.00

Anyone looking for a pie safe ??

Holiday Depression ???

2008-12-26T08:30:00.003-05:00

Wow.

I thought for sure I had it all together this year. If you look at my past Christmas time posts, you will see holidays have not been a good time for me for several years, but this year I thought everything was hunkey-dorey.

I willingly participated in looking for a tree, I sang while decorating the house with little ornaments here and there, I even bought all the ingredients to make the goodies I used to make back before depression became a major issue in my life.

Maybe it was still progress that I actually got into it beforehand, regardless of the monster who woke Christmas morning as me? I mean, in the past few years I haven’t gotten into it at all…none…nada.

I cannot put my finger on any one thing yesterday. I was not thinking about any of the sad stuff. I was reminding myself how joyous a time this is. I’ve not been watching the news now for a couple of weeks (periodically I have to stop watching and reading the news because of my tendency toward gloom and doom when the chemicals in my brain are misbehaving). I did not have any blown up expectations of the day (I don’t think I did anyway), but, somehow the DAY ITSELF came along and just wiped me right off my feet.

Uninvited tears were the menu for the day. No appetite for the wonderful Christmas cooking Great Husband had prepared (but yes I forced it down and acted happy about it). I slept a lot, feeling worse every time I awakened.

I am okay this morning, back at work. The tears won’t stop, but so far I have been successful at keeping them hidden.

I’m trying really hard not to let this bother me. I know my illness comes and goes without any kind of warning. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason as to when it will rear its ugly head, or why or for how long.

I am thankful suicide never once entered my mind. Not one time. That in itself is a blessing for Christmas.

Christmas Eve and State Troopers

2008-12-24T09:07:00.002-05:00

Sighhhhhhhh…….

Three years ago today, Christmas Eve, I was getting ready to go to work and found my cat was sick. He had not been long had surgery for bladder stones so when I found him sick again I was afraid they were back. We had almost lost him the first time.

I hurry and get dressed and go to find a vet that was open that early. I finally find one and he says Sebe is running a fever but he doesn’t believe he has developed any more stones. He gives him an antibiotic and sends us on our way.

I am already late for work at this point, and I still have to run Sebe home. Meanwhile, I am on a side of town I am not familiar with. I come to this huge intersection and turn left when the light turns green. I immediately hear sirens behind me and look in my mirror to see the flashing blue lights.

I KNEW I wasn’t speeding and could not imagine why I was being pulled over. Turns out I had turned from the wrong lane. The trooper was really nasty when he approached my window and demanded to know why I was distracted and turning from the wrong lane.

I explained to him I had just took my cat to the vet and was on my way to take him home and get to work and was not familiar with the area. He proceeds to write me a 4 point ticket.

I am 48 years old and have never gotten a ticket before this. Never.

Christmas Eve... 2008…guess what happens this morning on my way to work? Yep, on my way to work this morning, COMPLETE with red Santa hat, I got pulled over AGAIN. Seems my registration sticker has somehow found its way off my tag.

This trooper was very sweet. He had already called in my tag so he knew I had paid my taxes and registration fees, so he gave me a warning and wish me a Merry Christmas.

What is it about Christmas Eve and me? Do I look like a potential Santa kidnapper? Do I look like the Grinch who stole Christmas?

Oh well, I hope you all have a Merry CHristmas and a safe holiday time.

Christmas in the Work Place

2008-12-22T15:55:00.003-05:00

The view from my desk....

A Tree...? In the House ?

2008-12-17T14:21:00.002-05:00

Like me, my Thomas does NOT like change. Not one bit.

From the day we put our tree up, he has beeing finding mischief to get into. Keep in mind, this is Thomas, NOT Luke. Thomas is the "good dog".

He did the same thing last year when we put the tree up.

Just doesn't like change.

Like a Brand New Christmas

2008-12-15T16:04:00.002-05:00

Since 1999, my son has not spoken to me. He is 27. I have two grandchildren who do not know me.

I was married to their daddy for 24 years. During our divorce, his daddy told him many lies, some truths, and in general just things he did not need to know. But, he was out to hurt me in any way he could and he managed to succeed, in the worst possible way.

I hid things from our children all their lives, such as their daddy using me for a punching bag. I never told them he watched the mileage on my car to see if I had went where I said I was going. They never knew he marked our dirt and gravel driveway to see if anyone came or left while he was at work. In general I tried to keep their little lives calm and without drama. I grew up in abuse and drama and I tried to hide that ugly facet of life from them.

Christmas has been HORRIBLE for me since 1999. It was all I could do those first couple of years to sleep through the entire season. I detested walking into a store and hearing Christmas music. The commercials on television with all the happy families with their colorful gifts and the fires in their fireplaces by their Christmas tree would provoke a panic attack out of the blue. Never was I more suicidal than the months of November and December.

It’s been 9 years now. He still won’t have anything to do with me. He still will not answer letters or emails. I don’t even try to call him on the phone anymore. Mothers Day comes and goes, as does my birthday. But this Christmas, I seem to be better.

I have actively helped Wise Husband find a fitting tree. I have bought all the ingredients for the goodies I used to cook at Christmas time. I catch myself humming along to the Holly Jolly Christmas songs.

It is sad that this means I have accepted the loss of my son, and it seems cold to admit that, but it is healthy that I can now say his name without breaking into tears.

Merry Christmas…at least for the next 10 days !!

2008-12-13T16:15:00.002-05:00

There are several blogs I read religiously. Most are written by medical personnel types, and some are people like me, who have some type of battle with depression or bipolar.

Yesterday, one that I read on a regular basis, sounded very much like the writer was in a “bad way”. It spoke of suicide in no uncertain terms.

Over the past few years I have been blogging, there was a really bad time where my depression was not under control. I could not see a way out and the future to me looked like more suffering than I was able to handle.

I didn’t hesitate to write about my feelings during that period. It was a good way for me to get the thoughts in my head out in the open. I am not a social butterfly and don't talk to people much - other than my husband. It was healthy for me to be able to "say" these things to that someone who was out there in internet world reading.

During that period, I had some really awesome people write to me through email and through my comment section some very encouraging words. Those people who bothered to communicate to me during those times will never know how much they helped me.

So, yesterday when I read this Suicide is Painless post, I ignored this bloggers request not to comment. She put in the post that comments were turned off. So, I just went to the prior post and commented to her anyway. I told her some of the kind things that people had said to me when I was at my worst and basically asked her to please promise to hold out through the holidays and reminded her that when we feel suicidal it is our brains lying to us.

Today, this blogger has put a rather testy note on her blog that she didn’t appreciate my going to another post to comment.

I’m torn…I didn’t mean to make her angry. I KNOW how hard the holidays are for people like me who deal with depression. If she was truly feeling suicidal I didn’t feel I could just go on to the next on my list of blogs to read without saying something to her.

Was I wrong to comment after she had specifically said not to? Should I have just ignored what sounded to me like someone with suicide in their mind?

10 Days With a Toilet

2008-12-03T13:49:00.004-05:00

Phew. I survived.

Whatever the stomach virus is that is going around nearly kicked this ole gals butt.

Ten days (yep – that says 10) of pure agony. Horrible cramping, I’m talking cramping worthy of a hot water bottle and when that wasn’t enough a heating pad. Non-stop diarrhea, vomiting, off and on fever, ugh!

The diarrhea is still hanging around, but it isn’t as often or as bad as it was.

The last Saturday night of it all, I came THISCLOSE to going to the emergency room. I was convinced I was dying. I know I was dehydrated, and I was so thirsty and I was drinking but I was spewing from both ends so much I could not decide whether to sit on the toilet or hurl into it.

Rather than go to the ER and be thought of as wasting their time on a non-emergency situation, I called my family doctor and asked would he please call me in some Phenergan suppositories for the vomiting. No dice. He did suggest I go to the ER if I felt like it tho. That my dear ER readers is one reason you see so much unnecessary traffic through your hallowed halls.

I thought it was very sucky of him to refuse. I have never once called him after hours. I see him on a regular basis for all my medical needs including my yearly physicals so it is not as if he didn’t know me or something. Personally, I think he needs to take off his panties and put on some big boy pants and not be so paranoid. What’cha want to bet I’ll be charged for the phone call….?

My only saving grace was that all this occurred over two weekends and the Thanksgiving holidays so I only missed a day and a half of work. Of course being the weekend and Thanksgiving holidays was also the reason I couldn't get into the doctors office.

I hope you all are healthy and don't come across this nasty stuff. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

P.E.N.I.S.es in the Workplace

2008-11-26T16:27:00.002-05:00

Oh shit.

Sorry…that phrase just happens to be foremost in my mind at the moment.

I am sitting here at work, twiddling my ass, watching the clock. The bosses are gone of course, because they “have people coming in”. Well Hells Bells…don’t we all? If that is all it takes to go home early why was I not invited TO LEAVE? Oh…that’s right…because I don’t have a P.E.N.I.S.

It has been such a special couple of weeks lately here at work. One special event was when one of the bosses mentioned in passing some statement about accountability in reference to me and my job. No point trying to explain here, suffice to say he is the most full of you-know-what person I have ever known.

Everyone knows one, or worse still, has one. He knows everything. He has everything. He has done everything. He has been everywhere. I swear if I were to mention how bad my cramps were this month (and I wouldn’t) he would come up with some horror story about how much worse his were last month.

You know the kind, they will come along and take credit for work that YOU did, or pick up on something you are working on and somehow SAVE THE EFFING DAY in the BIG bosses eyes.

Anyway, accountability on my part has never been an issue in the nine years I have worked here. I have the pay raises and bonuses every year to prove that, but being the silent wuss that I am he can come along with one little sentence and stop me in my tracks for weeks.

He preys on people like me…people who won’t stand up, people who don’t quite know how to tell anyone that he is taking credit for my shit. I watch him do it to others. I've heard him lie straight out and put the blame for some stupid shit on me – something that doesn’t even matter in the long run – and I don’t know how to approach it at all. So I don’t. Instead, I just grow a nice large ulcer.

Speaking of pain in the asses…I have had some stomach virus for 5 days now. Nothing has stayed around in my belly long enough for 5 days to even get to know the wall paper in there. I don’t know how much weight I have lost, but I hope it stays off. I have worked through this of course. Well, I was out a day and a half, but otherwise I have sat here, bent over, rushing back and forth to the bathroom where the most hellacious sounds you have ever heard have broken the silence here. Oh…and when I came back from the one and a half days I absolutely couldn’t get off the potty long enough to get here…they had saved the trash and the dirty dishes in the break room for me. Ahhh what it must be like to have a P.E.N.I.S.

Today, I HATE this place. I am so thankful to the Lord to have a job in this time when so many are losing theirs, but this place has begun to suck the life from me. I don’t have many options if I were to leave. I only make a decent wage now because I have been here for a while. I don’t have an education and no matter what skills you have, companies are looking for that piece of paper that I can’t hand them.

So, for now, I guess I’ll just tell you all about my troubles here, and hope that slows the progress of the little entity in the lining of my belly. I wonder if I should name it?

Icing on a cake and a Beating from a belt

2008-11-12T23:32:00.002-05:00

When I was 6, my only sibling, a sister, was 15.

Growing up, we had a maid. Her name was Mattie and she loved me to death! She was more mother to me than mother was. She was with us from 6:30 every morning until 5 every evening and she stayed with me when my parents went on vacation as well.

On my sisters 15th birthday, her cake was sitting on the counter looking very inviting. Mother was sleeping since she worked night shifts at the time.

Every few minutes I would walk over to the cake and look at it. Each time I would bend down closer and closer looking, hoping to catch the aroma. Sister was in her room doing whatever 15 year olds do in their room and Mattie was cooking supper.

Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and I touched that cake. Just a little touch, just enough to get a tad of icing on my finger. Gosh it sure was good. I swiped another little piece, patting down all around where I had snitched so it would not be noticeable I had been messing with it.

Before too long, my good sense went straight out the window and on down the block. Mattie warned me away from the cake several times, but I wasn’t listening, I was enjoying fingers and fingers full of icing.

Around 3, as usual, mom got out of bed to get ready for dinner. When she saw the cake sitting there with not a drop of icing left on it, she went 100% totally ape shit.

As soon as she screamed my name I knew all the icing in the world wasn’t worth what I figured was about to happen to me. Yelling at my sister, she told her to get in here and sit down on the couch. With her belt in one hand and holding on to me with the other, she showed my sister what I had done to her birthday cake.

My sister was mumbling that it didn’t really matter that she wasn’t upset.

Holding me by my hand, she started hitting me with the belt. She would pull way back, as far back as she could, and swing that belt down on my legs and my back and wherever else it landed. We were going in circles as she swung her belt. After several minutes of this I started yelling that I had to pee but she wasn’t stopping. By now, sister was crying, begging mother to stop, please stop, that the cake didn’t matter.

For a brief second mother stopped hitting me and turned toward Kay and told her to shut up or she would get it next. Turning back towards me the screaming and the hitting started again. After several more minutes, I was peeing all down my pants, onto the floor and it was running across the floor. That made her madder and she began hitting me harder and faster for peeing my pants. A little while more of that and I did more than pee my pants.

I was so ashamed. I hadn’t done anything like that since when I was in diapers, now here was sister, mother and Mattie watching me use the bathroom all over myself. I could barely breathe I was crying so hard, I was strangling when I would try to answer her when she would ask if I were ever going to do something like that again.

When it was over, the house was very quiet. Poor Mattie seemed afraid to try to comfort me, and I don’t know where sister went.

Four months after this happened, sister eloped. I was left alone to take all of her madness then.

Maxine - The Rat Who Didn’t Know She was a Rat

2008-11-03T15:14:00.003-05:00

I got Maxine in June 2005. She was my very first rat.

I had read about rats and what great pets they made, but I was skeptical, until I got Maxine.

I quickly bought another female so she wouldn’t be alone when I was working and sleeping. They are very social animals and love your company as well as friends of their own kind. Her friend I named Gladys.

It wasn’t long before I had two more, males this time. I kept the males in a separate cage but kept the cages together so they could gee-haw back and forth.

No finer pet could you want. Smart, loving and clean and funny. They will play with anything you give them, be it a store bought toy or something you make yourself.

They slept in their little homemade hammocks. Cuddled up together. They eat anything you give them. Mine seemed to especially love cooked oatmeal, grits, maybe a little ice cream and a chicken bone with a little meat left on it. They eat anything, but these were their favorites.

As of last Thursday, I only have one remaining. Maxine died early Thursday morning. I knew she was on her way and I have prayed and prayed that I wouldn’t have to have her put to sleep.

She leaves behind to mourn her, Rudy, who being an old male (no longer able to reproduce), kept her warm and groomed during her last weeks.

She also leaves behind the rest of my family…the dogs who could NOT understand these critters who would snip their nose if they stuck it too far in their direction, my hubby who had learned to love all kinds of animals because he married a woman who can’t say no to a creature needing a home, and, she leaves behind me, a middle-aged, white-collar woman who soon learned that just like a book – no animal, even a rat, can be judged by its’ cover.

I miss you Maxine, but I wouldn't trade anything for the companionship you gave me the past 3 and a half years.

Thomas and Luke - Animals and Depression

2008-10-29T11:44:00.005-04:00

More pics of my little buddies. There are so many things that animals do for you, such as lowering your blood pressure.

Thomas

"Geeeez mom. I'm trying to watch SCRUBS here."

Luke and Thomas

Thomas hates the camera. He always runs to the bed as soon as he notices I have it out. These are the best pictures I have ever gotten of him.

Luke in the waterbed

Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies

2008-10-23T14:38:00.005-04:00

Oh my gosh! No matter how many times I make these things, it is always like the very first time………. I was introduced to them in elementary school. I’m talking cookies that you would swap your FRIED CHICKEN for!!

They can be eaten as is, or you can put them in a bowl of milk and lap them up with a spoon after a little crushing. Mmmmmmm. No bake and easy!

You will notice after each ingredient I even informed you as to how we’re meeting most food groups with the wonderful cookies. (Okay, just let me enjoy the fantaasy.)

1 stick butter (dairy)
½ cup milk – I have used both skim and whole (dairy)
3 Tbsp cocoa powder (vegetable – well you know, cocoa bean?)
2 cups sugar (I know…I know)

Boil these first four ingredients for 3 minutes AFTER the mixtures comes to a rolling boil. When finished boiling, add the following:

½ cup peanut butter (crunchy or creamy) (protein)
3 cups rolled oats (starch…fiber?)

The recipe calls for a Tsp of vanilla, but I never add it. Just doesn’t need it.

You can either drop by spoonful onto a cookie sheet, or pour it on the sheet and smooth it out to cut into the right size.

DO NOT under any circumstances go to the trouble of figuring the calories or “points”, and for goodness sake if you do, don’t tell me.

Heaven Sounds So Good

2008-10-20T08:47:00.002-04:00

So empty inside is how I feel. Blank. Like a zero. Like all there is, is an empty space where a sea full of tears are sitting, waiting their turn.

I try praying and I don’t feel anything that would lead me to believe He is listening. The last few weeks, I KNEW He was there. I felt His presence. Now nothing.

I have had several good weeks. I mean busy, good, happy (mostly) weeks. Out of the blue, like being hit by a semi, this comes again.

I know it will pass, I KNOW that. I’ve been living it my entire life, but I STILL don’t see it coming until it knocks the shit out of me.

I am not actively suicidal, but I prayed this morning (to what seemed like an empty sky) that God would take me on to Heaven. The thoughts of being like this for 20 – 30 more years is so exhausting.

Now I sit here at work, trying desperately not to cry, and of course it doesn’t work.

Men & Dead Crickets

2008-10-14T13:18:00.001-04:00

Men !!

One little word, yet most women don’t even need an explanation.

When I was getting ready for work yesterday morning, I noticed a dead cricket in the middle of the shower floor. I am not a morning person and not being the “dead bug” person in the house, I left it.

Last night, when I went to get into the shower, AFTER MY HUSBAND HAD TAKEN HIS SHOWER mind you, the dead cricket was still lying there.

My husband is 6’5”. He weighs about 280 lbs. Some how, he managed to shower around this dead cricket.

My question, an even BIGGER question than how, is WHY????

A few weekends ago I noticed that half of my housework is spent picking up crap he leaves laying wherever he happens to be when he finishes using whatever the item might be. Because I was slightly PMS, I shared this startling new insight with him.

He was very appreciative.

Agoraphobia Are Us....snort

2008-10-06T16:11:00.003-04:00

My better half (snort) advised me yesterday we have a little perfunctory supper we are to go to at our church next week. Since the moment he mentioned it my stomach has been in knots. So today, I've been doing some reading up on Agoraphobia. There is a lot of information out there, which causes me to believe there must be a lot of people like me out there. Bless their little hearts.

I have always tried to pinpoint when this problem first came up for me. I always thought I used to be fairly sane, but in the past just under 10 years, this has made a huge impact on my life.

While reading one article, the memory of the first (?) episode slapped me right in the face! I was standing in line at a store, waiting to pay. I don't remember when it was, but I do remember the instance I first recognized the extreme discomfort of being in public.

Looking back I can see my grandmother out in public...twisting and twiddling her fingers together...folding and unfolding a hankerchief...wiping sweat off her face...her hands shaking as she would hand the clerk cash to pay for her purchase. I did not have this problem back then, I felt sorry for her but I didn't really understand.

Grandmother did NOT do "SUPPERS" ! I am 48 years old, I think I have paid my dues. I'm not doing suppers anymore either.

Hrrmmmpphhhhh.

Pet Rats

2008-09-19T00:49:00.015-04:00

A Study : Rats and Their Effect on Clinical Depression

Three and a half years ago, I stumbled upon the joy of owning pet rats.

I bought 4, two males and two females. I had hamsters growing up and those critters are known to bite so when I read about rats being wonderful pets PLUS they don’t bite, I had to try them.

I quickly found that rats are very, very sweet. The are intelligent creature and they love attention and to be held.

Pet rats have a life spam of approximately 3.5 – 3 years. My two remaining are over 3.5 years now. The remaining male, Rudy, seems to be doing okay, but not as active as he once was.

Maxine, my remaining female, she is active but is now blind and stumbles a bit. I had to take her cage down to a one level because she was beginning to fall down and I was afraid she’d get hurt if she fell from the top story.

This is my Maxine > > > > > > > >
She was my first.

Gladys, I lost about a year ago. She was the boss of the bunch. Odie, my big ole male, was the sweetheart. He loved nothing better than to be hugged on and held. He loved giving little nose kisses. Odie passed away last Saturday on my birthday. It’s funny how a rat can break your heart when they leave you, but the love he offered while he was living more than makes up for the hurt of his passing.

They truly are good pets folks…

Luke's Many Blessings

2008-09-19T00:49:00.012-04:00

My Greeting Upon Returning From Work

Luke has the most pitiful face. He can look up at you with those big brown eyes and just melt your heart. He is a most loving and beautiful dog. He is blessed to have these attributes.

This is what I walked into recently when I came in from work:

He better be darn glad he has such a sweet pitiful face.

Happy Birthday

2008-09-19T00:49:00.003-04:00

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee….

Saturday was my birthday. I am closer to 50 than I ever expected to be.

My boobs have fallen into no mans land.

My teeth have almost all been capped.

My knees hurt more than they ever have.

The back of my hands look like they belong to some old lady..

My chins wiggle when I laugh.

I pee just a little when I sneeze.

I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my life.

I’m getting little hang-tab moles all over my neck. ( WTF????? )

Ain’t life grand?

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

I received an E-card from my sister for my birthday. This is my only sibling. I tried for years to have a relationship with her, but she never responded. Out of the blue I get this card.

I’m not very sure what to think. I’ve written her and emailed her and she doesn’t respond. She is nine years older than I and was our of the house by the time I was 6, so I just figure it is the age difference. At our age now thought that doesn’t even make sense.

There was never a falling out or a fight or anything. She just simply chooses to pretend I don’t exist for some reason.

I HATE the way receiving that card got my hopes up.

A Genie in a Bottle

2008-09-07T00:16:00.003-04:00

There was one other time in my life where I felt like the easiest “out” of a situation I truly didn’t want to remain in, was the BIG ONE, the “permanent out”.

I came so very close that one time. Two full refills of anti-hypertensives, a full bottle of sleeping pills and a bottle of whine. My *380 for good measure, just in case.

I left work at midnight and drove to my pre-selected spot. Somewhere secluded that was closed for the summer and where only a cop making his nightly rounds would find me. I plugged in my old Alice Cooper tape and opened the back door of my van. I sat there for I guess and hour or two, talking myself through this, making sure this is what I wanted to do. I hated to embarrass anyone or make anyone feel bad but inside I was tired of hanging on. I just couldn’t see leaving and embarrassing everyone with a divorce that was bound to turn ugly.

I eventually opened that first bottle and poured about half the little pills out into my hand. I held them for a long time. As I was listening to the night creatures all around me I kept trying to extract from my head any reason for not going through with it.

I looked across the parking lot I had chosen to the elementary school I had gone to so many years ago. I wondered how many of my classmates had made something of their lives, and wondered if they were happy. How many were somewhere right now, at 3 in the morning, wishing they had someone to talk to. Someone who would tell them everything will be alright.

Life can be so full of joy. I can remember some of them in my own life. The births of my children. The Christmases where they were just beginning to learn about Santa. Their little ballgames and their big moments like getting their learners permits. They brought me joy throughout their little lives.

I have wished, like a child with a genie that I could go back. Wished that I could go back to that time when I had the children. Back when they were young and fun and putting their fat little arms around my neck, kissing me with their smudged faces. Back to when I was spending my days taking them to school and cooking their dinner and cleaning their clothes and picking them up from school. You never, ever realize how much you will miss those times until they’re gone.

Now they’re making their own memories. One makes them with me included, one without me. My son hasn’t had anything to do with me since I made the decision to leave his daddy rather than commit suicide that night. He was a senior in high school that night. The last thought I had before I spit out that first handful of pills was that if I do this I will ruin his senior year.

It has been 9 years since that night. I could never have imagined he would have listened to his daddy’s lies, forgetting the past 17 years when it was me, his mother that he came to when he was hurt or sad or in trouble, never fathoming he would choose his father who had never given him anything emotionally. Then, I never imagined it could possibly last this long…his anger towards me. His two children don’t know their “other” granny.

It makes me wonder if I truly made the right choice that night.

Update (with fingers crossed)

2008-09-05T11:37:00.009-04:00

Ah life is good. I am knocking on wood as I state that fact however.

The meds seem to be doing their job. Nothing has changed at home other than possibly my acceptance of the facts as they exist, and the bills still come in on a regular basis, but for whatever reason the depression seems to be taking a back seat.

At one time I would very proudly share with everyone when that happened. Whenever the depression would stay away, I didn't hesitate to tell the news. Then I learned that after announcing it suddenly things would change and it would come back with a vegenance so I stopped telling anyone. Something inside me tells me today to go ahead and share - maybe someone else needs to know there are some good times in between. I'm still crossing my fingers though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I thought I'd share my latest pics of my babies with you all. They bring me great joy, even Luke who tho getting better, still has a tendency to eat things that really shouldn't be consumed.

This is Luke. He is a rescue dog, as all my dogs have been. He is twice as long as he is tall so looks a lot like either a Daschund or a Basset, and has the personality of a Beagle with his tunnel vision when it comes to getting fixated on some object.

So far he has consumed 3 remote controls, or at least parts of them, making them trashworthy. The concept of a Nylabone, which my other baby loves and will hang on to and tote around the house to his various hiding places, is completely lost on Luke. I found this out the hard way after giving him one. He ate it. He promptly threw it up for which I am grateful because I can only imagine what kind of damage it could have caused otherwise.

Luke is approximately just under 2 years according to the vets guess.

To the right is Thomas. He is a mixture of who knows what. He is 100% sweet and loving and very well-behaved.

Thomas is the exact opposite of Luke. You only have to give Thomas a stern look and he will obey. Thomas is a little over 3 years old according to the vets guess when he first came to live with us, (Thomas - not the vet).

Thomas has been a huge comfort to me during the very blackest times of my struggle with depression.

Here they are waiting on their humans to let them back in. "How long do these humans think it takes to pee anyway?"

So there are two of my babies.

I also have a hideously large goldfish (about 5 inches long and fat-fat-fat) I bought for 29 cents when he was about an inch long.

Then there is Maxine, Odie and Rudy, my three rats. I discovered the intelligence and gentleness of pet rats about 3 years ago. I had 4 but Gladys passed away about 6 months ago.

The only have a lifespan of approximately 3 years. So far, the three remaining are about 3 and a couple of months. The exceptions to the rule maybe.

Sebastion, Samantha and George are our three cats. Again, all rescues. I'll add all the others at a later date. I hope you enjoy the pics.

Back to My Real World

2008-08-25T22:40:00.005-04:00

Well, I am home from my trip to stare at the ocean.

The dogs were a real chore. They loved being with us, they HATED the water and the long car ride. They were good babies though.

I believe the official White Trash Convention was staying at our hotel this year. There must have been 6 or 7 family units of some mixture there. I might get into that later. It is a story all unto itself.

We only left the hotel to eat lunch out every day. I did well - stuck to healthy stuff as much as possible.

I found this trip that I am older and/or out of shape big time. I normally can play in those waves for hours. Honey, one of them waves knocked me down and 3 more pounded me before I could drag my ass out. I thought I was gone to meet my maker for sure. I never pictured meeting Him while wearing a swimsuit. At least it was a one piece. And when I showered that evening, there was sand and pieces of shells all in my butt. Ugh.

Hubby and I only fought twice and that was when he went to change lanes without looking over his shoulder at his blind spot and we almost broadsided a huge SUV while going 70 MPH. At the next spot we could pull over...I DROVE. The other was when he opened the door to our balcony and dumped the sand from his shoes right there! Right in the doorway where we had to walk to get to the balcony to sit. Are all men so damn dense?

As far as "the other"...the hope that I had had for the trip... Like the song says; "Nothing changes round here". But that's okay. I might just settle into a comfortable spot anyhow.

Oceans, Tears and Other Large Bodies of Water

2008-08-10T15:11:00.002-04:00

One week from today, barring any complications financial or otherwise, I will be at the oceans front for 6 days. Please complications... don’t raise your ugly heads. Last year when we were supposed to go, the car was in the shop to the tune of $2400.00.

I cannot remember a time I did not love the ocean, or the lake, or a pool. Mostly the ocean though.

I don’t swim that well, but I could stay in the water for hours and hours. I’ve met jellyfish face to face, (well - face to legs anyway), and have been pulled into an undertow, but even with those fears slightly in the back of my mind, I still love to be in the water.

I hate hot weather, but with the ocean and I can at least cool off whenever I need to. Some people go on vacation and shop and go to shows. To me the biggest show is the water. I can be anywhere I want to be watching those waves. I can be anybody I want to be.

Husband as well as the furry babies, are going. I am praying this will be a good time for husband and I. Maybe without all the work stress and the bills and the routine business of life we can pull back the passion we had once, before it disappears never to return. The shrink is not optimistic, but I feel I have to be. Who would have ever thought I could be more optimistic than my shrink?

Maybe if it does nothing else, the salt water can wash the profound aloneness and sadness from my heart.

My Review of Pinhole Glasses

2008-08-10T13:53:00.002-04:00

DISCLAIMER: I am neither promoting nor demoting these glasses. I am simply performing a favor asked of me by way of this BLOG.

A few weeks ago I was asked to “test drive” a pair of glasses called “Pinhole Glasses” and then write a review about them. The picture linked is the style I was sent except the lenses on mine were clear rather than the ones shown.

The glasses I received had clear plastic frames and the lenses appear to be black plastic and has tiny little holes covering the entire lens. The glasses came with no literature explaining them or how to wear them.

When I “googled” the glasses, I found a little information about how they are supposed to help you regardless of what type of eye problem you have. The information linked is the page I read.

I began having trouble reading close material the year I turned 40, and have gotten away so far with reading glasses from the drug store or department stores. Without reading glasses, the words in a book pretty much just all blur together. Ah the joys of aging.

I tried the pinhole glasses both for reading print material, for working on the computer, and for watching television.

When reading, if I squinted and concentrated on just one of the pinholes, I could read as well as I could with my over the counter reading glasses. Squinting to look through just one pinhole however would defeat the purpose of reading glasses and in my case squinting tends to cause me to have a headache.

When looking at the computer monitor and the TV, they did not do the trick for me.

To sum it all up, in my case, the glasses were not helpful in my situation.

Hazardous Lunch Breaks

2008-08-04T15:30:00.003-04:00

Today during my lunch hour, I went to the grocery store up the road. I only drive to work two days a week and the other 3 days I carpool with my husband to save on gas.

Now if you have been reading my blog for a while, you may have read where I had another lunchtime incident some time ago involving a hit and run where a lady hit me then proceeded to drive on to her home as if it never happened. I know where she went because I followed her there and blocked her in while I called the Highway Patrol.

The store I was going to today is only 2 miles up the road from my office and since we have a fridge here at work, it saves me from having to stop after work when I need to pick up a few things.

As I was headed to the store, minding my own bees-wax, I passed an apartment complex just as a truck was coming down the driveway of the complex. Evidently he didn’t notice the stop sign because he was out in the road a good 4 foot by the time he stopped, causing me to slam on brakes and swerve into the other lane to avoid him.

Now believe it or not, I did not flip him the finger as I was as I was desperately attempting not to t-bone his truck. I just went right on past and turned into the store parking lot which was only about 300 yards on up the road.

I noticed when I turned in to the store parking lot that he turned in right behind me. Before I knew it he had punched it and come up right beside my window. Now I am not an idiot…I do everything I can to avoid road rage incidents and this time was no exception. I did not look over at him nor did I slow down, I just went right on to the store front and pulled in to a parking space. After all, it may have been a coincidence that we were going to the same place.

I sat in my car for a few seconds to be sure though, and noticed he had bypassed several nice parking spots and was very slowly driving right behind me. This got my attention sure’nuff. He went to the end of the parking lot and turned around and drove back past the back of my car very slowly. He did this a total of 5 times.

After the fifth time, he pulled his truck around and parked at the end of the parking lot and sat there with his truck facing me. There was not another business where he had parked and he was not in a parking space. He was just sitting there, facing my car. I was at this point rather hesitant about getting out of my car.

I sat there about 10 more minutes and he never moved. Finally I decided to get out and hurry on into the store. The cashier up front must have seen something in my face because she immediately asked me what was wrong. She called the manager up front and when I explained to him what had happened he walked outside to look around.

When he came back he said the truck with the man in it was still sitting there and when he walked towards the truck and got a little closer the guy drove off and he watched him leave the parking lot and drive on to the road.

I have no clue what his intentions were. I don’t know if he was out looking for a fight, and thought that I was pulling in hoping he would follow so I could confront him or what. I do know this, it gave me a very uncomfortable feeling. My heart was beating so hard, even by time I got back here to work, that I could almost hear it. I despise being afraid. I resent terribly for someone to cause me to be intimidated.

I am a former cop as most of you who have been reading a while know, so I don’t panic easily at all, but this episode made me very nervous. This time I followed my gut when it said to STAY IN THE CAR.

I believe had this incident went in another direction this man would have harmed me, all because HE pulled out in front of ME in traffic.

Gives me a whole new set of reason to purchase a cell phone….and a concealed weapon permit.

"In My Secret Life"

2008-08-01T23:00:00.004-04:00

I was introduced to a song recently. "In My Secret Life" by Leonard Cohen.

I saw you this morning.
You were moving so fast.
Can’t seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There’s no one in sight.
And we’re still making love
In My Secret Life.

I smile when I’m angry.
I cheat and I lie.
I do what I have to do
To get by.
But I know what is wrong,
And I know what is right.
And I’d die for the truth
In My Secret Life.

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.

Looked through the paper.
Makes you want to cry.
Nobody cares if the people
Live or die.
And the dealer wants you thinking
That it’s either black or white.
Thank G-d it’s not that simple
In My Secret Life.

I bite my lip.
I buy what I’m told:From
the latest hit,To the wisdom
of old.But I’m always alone.
And my heart is like ice.
And it’s crowded and cold
In My Secret Life.

My daughter has an amazing ability to find songs that actually mean something. This one sounds so much like several posts I have written here.

Maybe everyone has a secret life. Maybe I am not so unusual after all.

On the other hand, maybe it is true that many artistic types are like me, just a little bit...off.

Free, One Terrific, Wonderful, Spectacular Dog

2008-07-30T15:11:00.005-04:00

For you all, an update on the newest member of my pack.

Luke is now, according to the shelter and the vet (who both guessed), approximately 16 or so months old. He is a beautiful dog. Very loving. Solemn, huge brown eyes that can stare into yours forever.

He is very playful, obviously from a hunting breed. When he gets to chasing a small critter in the yard he has the most perfect tunnel vision you can imagine. He is very diligent at everything he does.

So far we have come home to find 3 remote controls in various small, chewed up pieces. We twice now, have come home from a 2 hour trip to church to find a brand new loaf of bread on the floor with about 24 slices MISSING.

Coasters no longer sit on our end tables. Trash cans sit on the porch these days. There is not a whole lot we can do about the wooden entertainment center the big TV sits on, but the bottom left corner is almost gone.

Poor brother Thomas no longer has free access to the entire house (including that nice big warm waterbed) that he had B.L. (before Luke). Now all Thomas has are the 3 rooms that I cannot find a way to close off or use a baby gate on.

If he figures out how to open the fridge, I'm not sure those big beautiful brown eyes will matter.

Dogs - Our Best Friends?

2008-07-29T14:44:00.005-04:00

I’ve mentioned here before that I tend to stay away from news articles that I know will put a picture in my mind that I won’t be able to make go away. I have to do this, because, well…I get these horrible pictures in my mind and they won’t go away.

Today I just flipped onto my local news site and the first headline I see is,

Shelter's Mascot Dog Found Mutilated

Dog May Have Been Dragged To Death

I have always had a deep love and respect for animals. As I have grown older however, and I see something in the news like this, and I feel a red hot fiery rage inside me and then the tears start.

I cannot fathom, nor can I even begin to imagine, how any human being could intentionally hurt an animal. I know some people might say, “Well someone who does this has probably been abused or had a horrible childhood”.

Well, BULL BUTTER! I experienced anger and rage and abuse for a lot of years, but I could never think of, and put into action, some train of thought that would allow me to abuse an animal, and I DON’T use the term “Never” lightly.

I don’t know if it is Biblical or not, and don’t care to know for sure until I can see for myself (at which time it won’t matter), but I like to believe that when animals die they too will go to Heaven.

The Bible talks about how happy we will be and how there will be no tears there. God gave a lot of us a very special heart for animals and I cannot imagine Him not having that huge part of our lives waiting for us in Heaven.

I like to think that when this poor baby passed on, he was greeted by my canine babies and others who went on before him.

I choose to believe when they welcomed him in, they hugged him tight in that special way dogs have. I believe they sniffed his butt and licked his face then I think they took him to see Jesus.

After his hugs from Jesus, I believe all his new friends took him out to the big back yard where there was clean fresh running water and food that never ran out. Then they introduced him to all the humans who hung around all day for no other reason than to scratch his belly and pat his head & give him doggy kisses by the dozens. I believe then as they got ready to settle down for one of their many afternoon naps, they showed him where they keep the treats you don’t have to beg for.

I ache that I cannot hug him and tell him how sorry I am that one of my own did this horrible thing to him.

Treat him special Flopsy and Lady. He deserves it.

Well Shit, Why Didn't I Think of That!?!

2008-07-24T07:33:00.004-04:00

Simple ways to get rid of depression!
Stuff we've all heard before.

Click * Here

Some people are so past stupid.

Impossible Questions

2008-07-23T14:20:00.005-04:00

My heart is breaking. My shrink says I need to get friends and relatives to stand behind me and to support me right now. (Not financially, but emotionally.) My world isn’t like that. I don’t have anyone like that.

She said she doesn’t believe the counseling is going to change anything in my marriage. She believes it is I who must decide if I am going to be content to live in a brother-sister relationship. She asked me if I like him and enjoy his friendship enough for that to be a reason to stay. She asked me evidently what she thought were several key questions and I guess my answers said to her I will be the one to make this decision.

I am not good at decisions. I can do business decisions well. I can make decisions at work well. I was a good decision maker when under extreme pressure as a cop, but emotional/relationship decisions I have never learned to do. I don’t trust my judgment in those situations.

If I ended this marriage I am afraid I would be consumed with guilt. He is nice. He is very sweet. Very laid back. He has some health issues, some financial woes. I don't know he could make it off one income.

I don’t know who I am. I have always been someone’s mom or someone’s wife. I lived with my parents until I was 15, then with my 1st husband for 24 years then I was alone for 5 months before this one moved in. I've never been alone.

I've never. met. me.

For the source of the picture used above right click on it.

When the Black Dog is Nipping at Your Ass...Again

2008-07-22T15:12:00.004-04:00

It is a sick, sore feeling in the pit of your stomach. Not quite nausea, and still experiencing hunger at appropriate times, but not really wanting to eat.

It is a feeling of such weight in your arms and your legs, sometimes just your entire body. Like these body parts will only hold you up a short period of time longer.

It is noticing you haven’t take a deep breath in an hour or more, not since you began staring at the white spot on your computer screen some time ago.

It is realizing you are almost ½ way to work and don’t remember passing any landmarks or going through any traffic lights.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ohhhhhhhh we're off to see the shrinkette, the
wonderful shrinkette of ozzzzzz.

The marriage counselor wants to see me alone this time.
Sighhhhhhhhhhh. I hope she's not gonna tell me I am
weird for being upset about the no sex thing.

Wedding Anniversary & Dust Bunnies

2008-07-21T10:46:00.004-04:00

He didn’t remember our 8th wedding anniversary Saturday, but I got a whole lot of house cleaning done.

Lost in Life...and Town

2008-07-18T07:39:00.002-04:00

It amazes me how one day I can be almost “highly” normal and within hours feel there is absolutely no reason to continue living.

Yesterday, for the first time in 5+ years, I went to one of our district offices to teach a class to a roomful of supervisors. It went very well. The first 10 minutes or so my shaking was very obvious as I held up the forms I was showing the class, but I was eventually able to stop it.

For weeks I had worried about this class. I had to drive to another city where I am totally unfamiliar with the area. That for one is not something I do well. Then I had the thoughts of actually standing up there instructing the class. I had some serious stomach issues for several days right before the event.

There were 22 supervisors there plus their manager. I used to teach one hour classes in our field all the time, but I haven’t been able to do that in so long because of the extreme anxiety that entered my world a few years ago. Yesterday, however, I taught for exactly one hour and the time flew by. I didn’t hurl nor did I pee on myself. I was so much braver than I thought I would be.

I still could have talked on and on, but the aroma of fresh bar-b-q was taking control of the minds in the room. I was invited to hang around for lunch, but I knew I had reached the limit of my “brave” for one day.

Then there was the trip home. I found my car okay. I had parked on the 3rd floor of a parking deck. What I had not noticed when I parked was that the exit was not near the entrance. When I drove out I was on a different road than when I went in!

That is about all it takes to panic me. I am sitting in the driveway trying to decide which way I should go when I notice a sign pointing to the right and saying ONE WAY. Immediately my decision was made for me.

Needless to say after about 40 minutes of “lost” time, I found my way back here. I was feeling rather proud of myself except for the “lost” part, and began to wonder if I could after all speak in some churches concerning the stigma of mental health, like I feel led to do.

I go through this natural high the remainder of the day at work, and even on my way home. By night however, my mind is back on my marriage and how it seems to be not changing for the better.

By bedtime my mind will not turn off. I lay there and imagine being in a marriage the rest of my life where my husband does not feel passionately about me. Where it seems so not right. I picture my brain like the sun as it circles around the moon (I hope that’s right – I really don’t remember some of that stuff) constantly turning, slow but steady, and for a while there is the good time of the day and then comes the bad time of the day except there doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason as to what turns certain areas on or off.

I am looking forward to going back to the counselor next week. I truly want to fix me. I so want to be normal.

By the way, I am teaching another group of supervisors in two week!!

Marriage Counseling Part Deaux (?)

2008-07-11T10:09:00.007-04:00

Ahhh... I just had to tell everyone the counseling went better than I expected.

Most of you know I don't mince words. I am not one to stick my head in the sand and pretend a problem is not there. I would rather have a big blow up, get some feelings hurt if necessary (yes, even mine) and settle something once and for all that to avoid at all costs a fight only to have things fester and pop up like an angry zit later.

Well, at counseling that is the attitude I went in with. I just told the lady that I had given up on trying to change my husband and at this point I need help in learning to let go of the anger and resentment that has built up over the last 6 years.

My husband, being the stable, sweet, nice person that he is sat there very calmly while I ranted and raged and sobbed until I had the hiccups. Needless to say there was lots of snot slinging and tear flowing going on. Ever the thoughtful person he, unrolled all 6'5" of himself out of her couch and walks to the desk to get me a box of kleenex. I guess he was afraid I'd use my sleeve.

All in all, it went well. I had some major problems of my own pointed out to me. One of them was the anger and the silence. I tried to cop out by pointint out I didn't turn into a bitch until AFTER he stopped having sex, but you know....being an adult and all I just sucked it up and told myself regardles it still has to be fixed.

Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I love the big ole baffoon. He loves me. I guess you just have to make your choices and choose your priorities stick to them. I'll keep you updated.

On another note....

I was contacted recently and invited to be a part of Wellsphere health blogger community. I gratefully accepted the invitation in the hopes that one of my whiny, depressing posts that I have written will help other people who suffer from Major Depression maybe not feel so alone in their fight.

Wellsphere is not only about mental health though, it has tons of information on other health related issues, such as healthy eating and exercise and memory retention, just to name a few. It is a community type networking website where you can find advice, answers, tips, blogs, friends, motivation, inspiration and support from all over, or from people in your local area, from other bloggers like you and me.

Not sure about you, but I can take all the help I can get. Some of the bloggers I found 4 or so years ago when I discovered blogging have helped me get through some of my deepest darkest "places".

Marriage Counseling

2008-07-08T23:21:00.002-04:00

My belly is in knots. I am shaking more than usual. I actually feel naseaus.

"He" and I begin marital counseling tomorrow. I don't know what there is left to say. We've beat a dead horse for 6 years now. On the one hand I want to think it is going to turn things around for us; on the other hand, I sure hate getting my hopes up again.

I read soemthings yesterday that I found on letting go of resentment and anger. I am ready to let these things go. I have felt them and smoked them and ate them and slept with them and nursed them for years and they are consuming me. If you look at it this way, basically, by my being consumed by my anger he has won twice.

I think I am prepared for this all to go either way. Maybe apart is what we need for a while. Financially I don't know how we will do it, but we can I guess. Then I wonder, "Well what if he meets someone else. Will I die? Will that kill me?"

I guess it wont kill me, since I have not been treated like a wife anyway. More like good friends or brother and sister is how we've lived for years now.

I never know how to act in a counselors office. This subject, when it comes up, can become highly combustible. I hope she doesn't get offended at the S*** word or the WTF phrase. I hope I don't hurl.

Psychiatric Patient Dies on Hospital Floor

2008-07-01T12:13:00.002-04:00

God forgive us because surely, we don’t know, what we do.

The 49-year-old psychiatric patient laid unattended on the floor at Kings County Hospital for almost an hour before a nurse kicked her to see if she would respond…

Had she been a 49 year old “cardiac” patient would she have laid there?

During that time, two hospital security guards apparently saw her but didn't do anything to help. The first walked by and the second didn't rise from his chair until about 10 minutes later.
The tape shows a doctor walking by as well. He apparently looked at the woman but kept on going.

Had she been a 49 year old “maternity” patient would she have laid there?

The Brooklyn woman died on the floor, but not right away. The tape showed that she moved her legs and even rolled to her side, trying to get up.

Had she been me, or your mother, or your daughter, would she have laid there?

While the videotape showed that she was the floor at 6 a.m., the New York Civil Liberties Union said hospital records were filed stating that she was "awake, up and alert" at that very time.

God forgive us because surely, we know full well what we do.

I too am a psychiatric patient. I have, up to this point in my life, been able to hang on and hold it together enough NOT to have to visit an ER, but if I ever do have to go, even if I completely “lose it” and show my ass, I still won’t deserve this. No one does.

I pray that I never become so cold that I could have walked on.

Bitter, Angry & Lonesome

2008-06-22T01:02:00.003-04:00

I have felt rather numb today. It has been a very long day.

Every weekend seems long to me. We went and picked up a few things from the grocery store this morning, came home and had lunch and he has pretty much been asleep since.

Finally we went to bed. I felt alone there. So here I sit. My ideal sleeping arrangements have always been nude and spooning someone. That’s what I did in my 1st marriage for 24 years. This one has no interest in spooning, and I don’t like to be naked in front of him.

I wish I could get in his head. I wish I could know why the sex stopped. I only began gaining some weight (and I wasn’t little when he met me) AFTER he stopped initiating sex. Besides, he has gained a lot too and I still want him. I never thought either of us were shallow that way.

This whole thing is the reason why I can’t sleep nude the way I did all my life. I am ashamed of the wrinkles and the rolls. I have spent 30 some odd years being ashamed of me. Hating who I am and trying to hide myself as much as possible. I despise sleeping with clothing on because it makes me feel constrained yet I do because I don’t want to subject him to my fat rolls and my sagging boobs.

At 47 I am coming to terms with living a life where I am never again going to be touched in a womanly way. Never playing grabb-ass again. No more hugs where the hands go down my waist to caress my bottom.

During the week we’re only really together after we get off work and that only leaves a little while before we go to bed, so I can handle weekdays. Oh but the weekends. I am in the house with him for 2 days.

My sadness with our situation is never more than a hairs breadth from my mind, yet he can go right on as if we‘re the happiest couple in the world. He has not touched me in almost 2.5 years. Before you ask, “Have you told him how much this hurts you?” Yes. Loudly and clearly many times over these 5 years I have told him. I dragged him to a shrink with me and after one visit he said, “I think that helped. I don’t think we need to go back.”

I am 47 years old. My self esteem wasn’t one you would be proud of to begin with, but when I think how my husband of only 5 years doesn’t want me, that’s a tremendously hard slap across my face. There was no sign what-so-ever that he felt this way. He moved in and those first weeks it was hot and heavy on a daily basis. About the 8-9th month, it all went away.

A year ago we even discussed divorce. He never once put up a fight. All he would say was if that is what you want to do then I don’t blame you. Never once tried to talk me out of it. He won’t even try to get back in the habit.

That’s what the books and the shrinks suggest; just do it and the feeling will come back. Yes we have been to doctors as well. It boils down to, for whatever reason he has no interest in sex and evidently my sex life ended as well without anyone even asking me.

I am 47, beginning to go through the peri-menopausal stage, and horney as hell most of the time.

My first husband went through periods where he used me for a punching bag. That hurt, yeah, but this hurts just as bad. To not be wanted. To feel so ugly that he won’t even have sex with me. He swears it has nothing to do with me, but who can believe that? Where there is no real explanation what is one supposed to think. Most women would think the same way I do.

I hate what all this has done to me. I have become a bitter, angry person. I don’t look at him and see love and peace and home. I see someone who got stuck with me and really doesn’t want to be here but for whatever reason won’t leave.

I’m married so I can’t date and go out and just forget things for a while, but I can’t get any kind of relationship like that at home either. Hopelessness – it adds to my feelings of hopelessness.

Split Second Memories

2008-06-17T15:19:00.001-04:00

A memory passed in front of my eyes today. It was as real as the poison ivy on my legs.

My mind has not visited there in a long, long time. I have just about trained it to not go in that direction. Seems that area of my past causes bumps and bruises and other assorted boo-boos.

It was a wonderful memory for a moment, until that split second when your mind jumps back off the track to nowhere and you remember that it was only a memory.

It smelled wonderful; tasted delicious. It was just wonderful to every one of my senses.

Some have written that we should not be sad about what we've lost, but happy that we ever had it to begin with. That little ditty, along with the saying, "Abscence makes the heart grow fonder", I think is bulllshit.

2008-06-13T11:58:00.004-04:00

Dental Phobia

I cannot ever remember NOT being afraid to go to the dentist. When I was a kid I used to hope we would have a wreck on our way so I wouldn’t have to go.

My dentist growing up was so mean. The room he did the work in was tiny and had one door leading to the lobby and another door leading to the back area. He would walk in and close both doors and I can remember my stomach feel like it was shrinking.

He always hurt me. Every filling, everything he did hurt. Now keep in mind growing up I was not allowed to cry at home. There was (still is) something about crying that would set my mother off. She would get very angry and yell and scream and tell me how big a baby I was for crying “about every little thing”, whether it be a bee sting or a boyfriend lost. I learned very young not to cry.

At this dentist, who I will refer to as Dr. Satan, if I cried he would hold his hand over my mouth and pinch my nose closed and tell me that when I stopped crying he would let me breathe again. Now when I say I was crying, what I mean is that little snuff snuff you get when you’re crying and trying not to. I never cried in such a way that I couldn’t hold my mouth open for him, nor did I make any noises other than the snuff snuff, still he would hold my breath every time.

Once, after my mother and I got back in the car, I told my mother what he did. Her response was, “You better be glad I didn’t know you were back there showing your ass or I would have come back there and whipped you”. I never mentioned it again.

From a child onward, until about 3 years ago, I would get diarrhea and be sick on my stomach weeks in advance of a dental appointment. About three years ago I began getting nitrous when they have work to do. That in addition to the kind understanding dentist I go to, has helped me tremendously.

I had to go this week to get prep work done for a crown. When they walked me back from the lobby, I could tell they were rushed. The dentist came and got me himself rather than the assistant who usually done that. He sat me down and immediately began giving me injections. They had ALWAYS started the gas before the injections, but he didn’t even mention the gas this time. It is written on the outside of my file that I use nitrous, but they never mentioned it, and I felt since they were rushing they must be behind and I didn’t want to inconvenience them.

I will never do that again! I am usually not a pussy when it comes to pain or much of anything really. I am not a scaredy-cat by nature. I am a former cop. When I would go after work I would lie there in my uniform complete with a S&W 40 on my hip and tears would fall down my face. It is something I cannot control. The nitrous however made it tolerable without tears.

This visit was horrible. I laid there for over 2 hours, shaking so hard the chair and tray and everything else shook too. When they were doing the molds, the assistant pressing them in place was shaking from my body shaking. I felt panic coming up in my throat several times and felt I would suffocate. Somewhere inside me I went back to my Lamaze from 26 years ago. It took a great deal of effort (and that is a huge understatement) but I didn’t make them let me up like my brain and body was screaming at me to do.

I have paid for that little bravo since Tuesday. My stomach has been torn up, I have had a headache off and on this entire time, and my back has throbbed. (The back pain is from lying in the uncomfortable and awkward position for so long.. I have 24-7 back pain from two blown discs, but it is manageable – this has been close to not being.)

I will ask for my gas from now on. That is the last time I will allow myself to suffer because I think the fact that they are running behind is more important than my comfort. Hell, I pay extra to receive nitrous that my insurance won’t touch. They say it is “unnecessary”. I know the lady has to sit right there with me the entire time I am receiving it whereas if I am not she can flitter between rooms and get more work done. Tough shit – I’m paying for it. If it is a problem they should not offer it.

I am also making it a point to not listen to the voices that continue to remind me what a big cry baby I am.

Fuck you very much Dr. Satan.

Another Missing Piece of My Heart

2008-05-29T16:15:00.006-04:00

Two days ago, my younger dog found a baby chipmunk.

I was getting ready for work when I heard Luke barking and carrying on like a mad-dog on crack. Pulling my gown down as far below my ass as it would go, I went to see what he was throwing around and jumping at. When I saw the little creature, I picked up the mad-dog and took him in the house, grabbing a paper towel on my way out.

I picked him up with the paper towel, (because you KNOW Bounty is tuff), not knowing what it was or how it might react to me. The poor little thing was soaking wet, cold as ice and bleeding from somewhere. For several hours I assumed he was a squirrel. In the shape he was in you couldn’t tell. You could tell he was a baby, though his eyes had opened and he did have all his fur, he was still very young.

I didn’t want him to die in the cold grass all wet and scared and alone so I brought him to work with me along with an eye dropper I keep around for occasions such as these.

When I got to work I mixed up a little warm water with sugar, just to see if he would take anything. He was so cold. The only way I could think of to warm him up was to stick him down in the empty space in my bra cup (doesn’t everyone have a bra that doesn’t fit properly) but my boss didn’t know I had an animal at my desk and I was trying to keep it that way. Then it occurred to me…my FOOTWARMER!

I keep a foot warmer under my desk, because although I am the queen of hot flashes, they only affect me from the ankles up. My feet, on the other hand, tend to get chilly from the fact that I keep the ac turned down to 40. So into the nice and cushiony foot warmer he goes.

About two hours later I take him out to offer more sugar water. He barely sips a drop or two, but he is looking better. He is almost dry and I can tell I was wrong about him being a squirrel.

For 56 hours I kept Chip with me. I bought enough puppy replacement formula (suggested on every website I found pertaining to abandoned or injured baby animals) for 100 more Chips and was giving him that every 3 hours. He was looking better a little at a time. This morning, he actually jerked his little head up and looked at me and grabbed the dropper with his two front paws and sucked like there was no tomorrow. When I got him out 3 hours later, he didn’t look too hot. Wouldn’t take any formula.

I kept him in my lap after that and just 20 minutes ago, he died.

I have questioned whether it is good or not that I have this “thing” about animals. I absolutely cannot leave an injured animal. All my life when I have seen a turtle in the road, I have to pull over, get out, pick it up and move it to the grass so it won’t get run over. I made my former husband pull over once when I saw a dog on a chain and it had some kind of bucket stuck on its head.

He was a big dog, and dogs kept on chains out in the yard can get mean because of the sheer misery of being lonely, (please, if you can’t keep your dog inside, don’t get one) but I could not keep going and not try to get that bucket off. It was hot and the poor baby couldn’t even get a drop of water.

So husband #1 pulled over and I walked real slow up to the dog, telling him how I was his friend and please don’t bite me when I pull the bucket off and if he felt he had to bite me to please not bite me in the face.

I pulled the bucket off and threw it away from the dogs’ reach and ran like a bat outta you know where back to my car.

When I was very small I used to just cry and cry at the movies when the cowboys would get shot and cause their horses to fall down. My mother would get on to me and fuss that I “care more about the animal than the man who just got shot”. (Don’t ask me to make sense of my mother.)

It is not that I cared more about the animals; or then again maybe I did. My pets were the one "constant" and safe thing I had in my life growing up. Besides, I figure people have a mind and can take care of themselves and not put themselves into precarious situations. Animals for the most part depend on us to help them be safe.

I guess it goes without saying that I have a special place in my heart for animals. All of them. Animals know it too. Not trying to sound like a Dr. Dolittle here or anything, just saying that animals will take to me in situations where nobody else could get near them. I’ve seen this happen many times over in my life.

I am so sorry my dog found this beautiful creature. I had picked him up out of the wet grass that morning just so he wouldn’t die alone and cold, but I guess that part of my heart kicked in without my even wanting it to.

Brains That Lie

2008-05-23T21:03:00.005-04:00

Edwin Leap wrote a wonderful post about the patients he sees in the ER who suffer from depression.
Find it here http://edwinleap.com/blog/?p=158

He has written several posts about this subject...about the people like me who live in "this world". His posts are so accurate as to the thoughts that go on in our heads, it is amazing.

I personally have never been to an ER because of my depression. It is not because I have not felt I needed to though. As I have gotten older, the depression has grown so much larger.

It is almost totally consuming now. So far I have held onto my job. I am fortunate that I work in an office with only two other people, so when I cry and absolutely cannot make the tears go away, I don't have to try and hide too much. I worry about my job though. It is getting more and more difficult to concentrate on what I am doing. Without my job, I am not sure what I would do.

For me, and many others like me, the meds stop working after a while. In my case, the meds stop working after a shorter and shorter period of time now days. It is exhausting to even think of going back to the shrink and telling him they no longer work. I feel as if I disappoint him when I tell him that. I fear seeing a look of anger on his face.

When you see my type walk through the doors, or you see them in the church, or beside you on your job, try to remember this is not something we asked for. We are not weak. We are not lazy or just wanting pity from anyone.

I remember when I was very first prescribed Prozac back in 1992. It was a miracle. It didn't make me happy. It simply made me me again. That's it. It worked for over 3 years. I have not been in that good of a shape since.

During the rare good times, I remind myself that just like it comes, it will go away again even if for only a short time, because when I am in the midst of it there is no thinking straight enough to remember.

I keep a little card on my desk that says, "Remember that if you ever feel like killing yourself, it is your brain lying to you". That simple sentence has helped me more than you can imagine. Maybe if you ever run into someone like me, you can tell them that.

Black Dogs Disgust

2008-05-20T23:52:00.003-04:00

The Black Dog and me were sitting on the couch tonight watching TV. I was on one end of the couch kind of twisted up on there sitting on one foot while the other leg was bent with my foot on the couch. Black Dog had curled up against the back of my thighs.

I had butter beans for lunch today. I had pintos yesterday. Okay boys and girls, does anyone know where we’re going with this?

Well I have been feeling my gut complaining for hours. I honestly didn’t know how much longer I would be able to hold it. To make it worse, I was watching Worlds Most Outrageous Moments and every time I laughed my butt threatened to give up the entire façade. It wanted relief and it wanted it now, unfortunately now was not an option.

Hubby and I do not fart in front of one another. Matter of fact, as far as hubby knows I don’t fart at all. Its funny, my first husband and I had farting contests, but the one I have now is so very proper I just can’t bring myself to cut a hot one when he’s around.

Finally he went to take a shower. Soon as I heard that shower turn on, I hauled off and cut some cheese to go with them air biscuits! I had barely got that one out when Black Dog raised his head up, looked at me, and got up and went to the other end of the couch.

If Black Dogs are capable of feeling disgusted, I swear that is the look I saw in his eyes. That made me laugh way more than I should have considering I hadn't emptied my bladder in several hours.

Sorry ‘bout that Black Dog.

Water Bras and Full Flavor Menthol

2008-05-20T16:06:00.009-04:00

I have decided that if I can lose 40 pounds, I can start back smoking. I came to that conclusion by doing some research on the dangers of smoking, and on the dangers of being overweight.

I also found that if I throw in 8 -12 ounces of orange juice per day, I won’t even have to go back to the Menthol Lights, I can go straight for the Full Flavor!

Not only can the orange juice help reunite me with my former "best friends", but according to the most recent facts on Green Tea, once I do start back smoking not only can I go back to Full Flavor. All I will need to do is consume 24 ounces of Green Tea every 24 hours and I can smoke up to ¼ pack more than I was smoking when I quit. Damnnnnnn! (The mechanism of this effect is uncertain, but it is possible that catechins in green tea may play a role.)

Once I resume smoking, I will probably drop an additional 8-15 pounds over the course of that first year. When that happens I can then begin socking away all the money I’ll save by no longer needing anti-hypertensives, anti-diabetics, CPAP supplies anti-Hyperlipidemias, and of course, because I’m not…ahem... “getting any”…I certainly don’t have that pesky little birth control expense any longer.

(I will still need the anti-crazies, but I think those are worth splurging on...although..if I think back to some prior material I have read, the nicotine does hits those same receptors on the brain that prozac does. I may have to do a tad more research on this.)

I figure once I start saving all that medication money, even considering the trade-off there will be with the cost of the cigarettes, I’ll still have a nice little booty tucked away.

I may just go to Wal-Mart and buy me one of those new water bras.

Mother's Not Speaking...maybe for the last time

2008-05-13T16:35:00.002-04:00

I called my mother on Mothers Day to tell her “Happy Mothers Day”. She said she was busy getting ready to go somewhere. She was very “short” with me. “Yes”…”No”…one syllable answers. After about a very long 90 seconds I gave up trying to make small talk. I told her I’d talk to her some time when she wasn’t busy and that I loved her. Her response was, “Okay. Bye”.

I waited 47 years to do it, but a few weeks ago I finally sent my mother a letter asking some questions about my childhood and our family tree.

None of the questions were asked in an accusing or negative way. I really went out of my way to be sure they were asked in as gentle a way as possible.

I asked her things such as did she ever have a “nervous breakdown”. I asked her did she ever have to take medication because of her “nerves”.

I asked her about my uncle who hanged himself when I was very young; what was his diagnosis, about his hospitalizations, etc.

I asked her about my sister who is 10 years older than me, about why when I was in 1st grade I came home from school one day and both her wrists had bandages on them. When I asked back then I was told she cut them washing dishes.

I asked her did she know if the reason for her affairs was because of an intense need to feel loved or accepted by a man.

Finally, I asked her was my “daddy” my biological father. Maybe that’s the one that pissed her off. I have always wondered though. As long as I have been old enough to fathom such a thing I have wondered.

I remember a man coming to visit during weekdays sometimes. I remember he drove a truck. He would help me crawl up in the truck and take me to the store to get a bag of candy. I cannot see his face. All I can remember is the truck and the fact it was about midday and that my daddy was always at work when he came.

I never once asked why she hit me in the face my entire life with any weapon that was handy. I didn’t ask why she would kick me with her very expensive cowboy boots on. I didn’t ask why she choked me. I didn’t ask why she told me I was an accident. I didn’t ask her how she could walk out on me when I was 6 years old to “run away” with a new boyfriend. Nor did I ask her how she did it all again when I was 12 after daddy allowed her to come home after the first time.

There are no answers for such things. I just figure she had a horrible temper and never learned how to control her anger. I don’t hold any grudges towards her. I truly don’t. That is why I didn’t ask her anything about those things, only the other questions. Only because I think somehow the answer might help me to get through the depression I live with.

I stopped going around my mother about 9 years ago even though she lives just a few minutes up the road. It is rather easy since she has only visited me once in approximately 12 years. I always write her letters…innocent innocuous letters…because I want to be a good daughter and stay in touch, but every time I am around her I come away feeling really bad about me. Somehow I thought the way that I wrote the letter, and the way I tried to ask in such a light hearted way, that surely she would understand that I needed to know some of these things and not get mad about me asking. She is getting up in age and there is no one left who could answer most of these questions.

Looks as if I won’t get any answers.

Silence = Depression ?

2008-05-11T01:35:00.000-04:00

I’ve been trying to observe myself from “outside myself”. There is a word for that, but I can’t think of it right now. I find I have lost my words a lot lately.

I seem to have decided that talking takes more effort than I am willing to put forth. Unless someone says something to me – I don’t talk. I have noticed that my husband does not seem to be a talker either. I guess that means I have been initiating all the conversing, along with all the sex, for the past 7 years? I had no clue.

I don’t want him to think I am mad at him. I’m not. I just have nothing to say. It is not just him either. I don’t talk at work except when I have to.

I think sometimes I would prefer to live alone. If I lived alone, neither he nor I would feel any pressure to speak.

I wonder if he hates being with me. It cannot be easy being with someone who is down so much of the time. I used to try to put on a front and pretend to be “up”. Like talking, that just seems to require more energy than I have anymore.

I wonder if my first husband of 24 years thought I was weird or if we were just weird together and had grown so accustomed to it that we no longer noticed it.

I wonder if there is such a thing as Sudden Onset of Adult Muteness?

Dreaming

2008-05-11T01:32:00.002-04:00

I dream of a man. I imagine him as being tall, not necessarily a gorgeous guy but a man with nice smiling eyes and an easy laughter

I imagine him as he walks past me in the hallway reaching for me, pulling me to him and squeezing my butt between his hands and kissing me.

I see me standing at the sink washing dishes. He is coming in the door from washing my car. Still wet and hot from the outdoors. He walks up behind me and puts his wet arms around me and in each hand grabs a boob and massages them, while pushing into my butt with his crotch.

As I begin to turn toward him, he takes my face in his hands and pulls me to him and kisses me with the yearning a man might have for something to drink after being lost in the desert. His tongue finds mine and kisses me that deep kiss that only can be appreciated by two people who have that one special bond.

By the time supper is eaten and showers are taken, we both know what is next for us. We’ve been headed this direction all day. Our big bed, so soft and warm, is just the right place for two passionate people like us. He lights one candle, peels his underwear off and hesitates just long enough to give me a good look at what I am about to enjoy, then he crawls in bed and immediately turns me over onto my belly so he can run his lips across that most sensitive part of my neck. From that point on he has my motor running. In the end, we drift off to sleep, tangled in each others arms, hot, sticky.

Every day, he appreciates my femininity. In some way whether it be grabbing my ass, or kissing my breast while I am dressing in the mornings, he shows me how much he enjoys my body even with its’ flaws.

He knows I don’t want flowers. He doesn’t have to worry about buying me jewelry. A phone call during the day to tell me he loves me is worth all the diamonds in the world. He knows my contentment comes from our love and our passion and the bond we possess.

Better

2008-05-06T15:57:00.003-04:00

I am feeling better.
Looking back, when I get in that "place", it is almost unbelievable.
Thank you for caring - it means more than words can express.

Make it go away mommy....

2008-04-30T23:30:00.001-04:00

I sat in my bedroom this evening, 2 foot from where my gun lay. I must have sat there and stared at it for 40 minutes. I could imagine it's weight in my hand, the coldness of the barrel as I pointed it in center mass. I stared and I cried and I stared. I told myself all the things they teach you at times like that.
It worked this time. But I am so tired, So very, very tired.

Mental Hospital

2008-04-25T08:28:00.002-04:00

I feel like I am losing my mind. I can barely make a decision. Any decision. I just want so badly for this to go away. I feel like I need to be in the hospital, but having never been there, I'm not even sure they really help. I would hate to risk having a huge bill to pay not to mention being out of work and not be any better when I get out.

This too shall pass is my mantra, and it has been for years and years but I am getting so tired. I can't imagine ANOTHER 16 years of this.

Mental Health Care & Fat Rat's Ass

2008-04-17T16:01:00.002-04:00

Are there really people out there who can afford the minimum of $90 per visit to seek counseling? That is the minimum! They won't let you make payments either - I've asked every one I have contacted.

Sliding scale doesn't help unless you're destitute. Forget the "Government Mental Health Clinics"...they are so busy they can only see you every 3-4 months, and they use that same sliding scale.

What pisses me off though, is I know if I didn't work (which so far I am hanging onto my job by the skin of my teeth as long as they don't mind me crying on and off throughout the day), didn't pay my bills, sat around popping out babies, and didn't give a Fat Rats Ass, I could get it all for free just by holding out my hand.

Kidney Stones: Labor With No Baby

2008-03-13T15:13:00.002-04:00

I just had a kidney stone blasted to smithereens by way of Lithotripsy. It had made it to the lower part of my ureter then screamed, “screw you ... I’m staying right here”. I had been having minute amounts of blood in my urine for 5 weeks so I figured it was only a matter of time before a stone made itself known.

I had Lithotripsy about 14 years ago for a stone that was lodged ½ down my ureter. Nothing like having pains that meet and exceed the pains of labor but without a cute little baby at the end!

The first Litho I had, they used general anesthesia. This time they used sedation. I was very nervous about this sedation thing, having never experienced it before. I just knew they would let me “wake up” and I’d feel something, but I didn’t. Plus, and a HUGE plus it was, I did NOT wake up hurling like I do with general anesthesia.

Now if they could find a CT or an x-ray that could locate the depression, and find a way to blast it to smithereens so I could piss it away, wouldn’t the world be a better place?!?

I am the Captain of my Crazy Ship

2008-02-22T23:19:00.003-05:00

I attempted to explain my bipolar today to a new friend of mine but I couldn't. I'm going to try here where I am not under so much pressure.

First off, I HATE the term "mood swings". That term has always been associated with nutty women or PMS or menopause. What else could you use though? That is what we have...mood swings.

The main two components of my illness are depression and I suppose the second would have to be a tie between rage and just feeling like the most super, smart and funny woman in the world.

The depression: that one is easy to describe.

For me it is waking every morning and wishing you hadn't. Crying while you're getting ready for work regardless of whether or not you have already put your mascara on - that is IF you're even bothering with your make-up. About half the time I don't even touch the stuff.
Crying as I am driving to and from work. Wishing someone would run a red light and kill me so that it could all be over with but without the shame of suicide.
I cry during work. I DETEST with RAGE the damn phone ringing right when I am in the middle of what I know will be a period of crying that I cannot stop even by biting my tongue. I know the guys in my office think I have the worst case of allergies in the entire world. They see the red eyes and the tissues...I just say allergies. Who understand crying without a specific reason or excuse?
I go to church with my husband the deacon who everyone admires and looks up to and I sit there on my fourth row seat and cry, sometimes sobbing quietly. I am so embarrassed, but my choice is to stay home. I hide as much as possible. I don't want to see people because they all shake your hand and say, "Hi. How are you?" How do you say, "Oh I'm fine and how are you?" when there are tears streaming down your face pushing your eyeliner alone with them. I try to be invisible. I love preaching but I won't go to Sunday School because the classroom is little and they sit in a circle where everyone looks at everyone and I look down at the floor and feel stupid. I know they're looking at me and wondering why I'm not friendly and oh if they only knew just how badly I wanted to be friendly. If they only know how badly I needed friends and how much compassion and love I have for people, but I can't show it because it is just too hard to wear the mask.
I cannot concentrate at work. I look at the computer where I do my work and find myself staring at it as if I am clueless as to what to do next. I've only done this job for 7 years. I never go out to lunch with everyone else. Again, I hate having to put on the mask and pretend everything in my world is hunkey dorey.
I have a plan in place at all times. I have letters written to loved ones begging their forgiveness for my whimping out and taking the low road.
I never see the depression coming. It just slaps the shit out of me right from the blue! Bam...I'm down. Reminding myself several times a day why I shouldn't stop this pain. Literally naming on my fingers all the people. Wondering how much longer I can hang on for other people when the pain inside my chest is about to overcome my caring that they not be hurt.
I wrap myself inside my head and don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to look at anyone. I don't want to leave my house. I don't want to get out of my pajamas. If there was no spouse here I would sleep. Period. Just sleep.
Depression is black and ugly and hideous and I get so damn frustrated that no one seems to be able to find the answers and fix this. I know that every time the veil lifts and I feel like I will survive, that it will be back. It always comes back. It has come back for me since 1992.

The Bipolar...the manic side...second part: the rage and the super smart woman:

The rage is something that has only in the past year or so been added to my plate. I don't do anger well. If I am just totally mad at you, I turn it inwards. I will think bad thoughts, I will consider beating the shit out of someone, and the rage from holding back will make me shake and sweat and grit my teeth. I won't, however, hit anyone.
The rage can be something as simple as the phone ringing at work for the 6th time in 3 minutes. There are four other people in that effing office. Is it because they all have penises that they cannot lift their effing hands to answer the damn phone!?!?!
The rage can also be the idiot person behind the counter at the fast food place who when you walk up to her window she acts as if you are there just for the sole purpose of ruining her day. Well screw you bitch.
The rage can be against my spouse. Oh my how ugly that one can get. enough said.

The other part, where there is the funny and incredibly smart and artistic woman:

I can write such poetic and easy to understand articles.
Short stories that people can really get into and feel what I am saying.
I can draw the reader into the scene I have created with my words.
I can sit and make jewelry, popping out complete outfits in a couple of hours.
I can paint a picture that is good enough to enter competitions.
I can walk with my head high with great self confidence.
I can be incredibly sexy and flirty and just KNOW that I look D.A.M.N. good.
I can drive fast and flashy and be safe all at the same time.
I can spend money like it grows on trees.

That is my life with Bipolar. Bipolar's life with me.

Goodbye Dear Friend

2008-02-07T11:48:00.000-05:00

An employee of ours, a very good friend of mine, was found on the job dead this morning. His job is in a remote location and is during the night shift. A sheriff deputy making a routine patrol through the areas found him.

They know so far, that my friend used his cell phone to call 911 approximately 5 hours before his body was found, but the call was not traceable and evidently he was unable to speak.

My friend was an older gentleman who kept me supplied with fresh fruit and vegetables. He stopped in to see me almost every single week. He would tell me stories about his past, and how he used to be a mean drunk and how he had been able to stop drinking when he accepted Christ as his Lord. He would talk about God’s amazing power to forgive and His grace and His mercy.

I can hardly stand to think I will never look up at the door when it opens and see him walking in with his smile and his bag of produce. The thought of him dying in a parking lot, alone and unable to ask for help, breaks my heart. My only comfort comes from something my husband said…that he believes as he was dying the angels were with him and comforting him and ushered him straight from here to Heaven to be with the Lord forever.

The Bible says “To be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:8; Philippians 1:23) To me that means that as soon as he took his last breath here, he took his next in the very presence of Jesus.

Much better....

2008-02-06T16:36:00.000-05:00

I am much better now. That was the first major incident I have had since being put on the Lamictal. It was the worst I think I have ever had. That scares me.

It seems like a cruel joke...for the depression to go away for a longer period of time that I can ever remember, and then come back so fast and hard and seemingly without warning.

Thank your for your thoughts and prayers, comments and emails. You don't know how much it helps.

2008-01-31T11:50:00.000-05:00

Being alive hurts, but I am trying to hold on to the hope that one day the pain will pass...

My Purse, My Mask & My Sanity

2008-01-22T15:26:00.000-05:00

I’m wearing the mask today. It’s tight and it makes me sweat and the plastic crinkles with every movement, but I have to wear it. Without it I would appear unprofessional and uncouth. I would seem to be weak or “crazy” or just some “emotional woman”. I have to wear the mask then don’t I? There are times that I wear this mask for days at a time. Sometimes I wonder if I look in the mirror while not wearing the mask, would I even see a face anymore.

I dreamed last night that I was walking somewhere and someone took my purse from my shoulder and ran with it. I cannot see the person in my dream, I can only see my purse bobbing and weaving as it is disappearing from my sight. A friend and I have talked about this a million times. I’ve told her that if anyone ever snatches my purse, they’ll have to kill me because I am not letting it go. There is no money in it, but it would take countless hours to replace everything I keep in there.

Between the mask and my purse, and having to keep up with both, I am mentally & totally exhausted.

A Middle Aged Woman on Being Unwanted

2008-01-11T11:04:00.000-05:00

Where is it we learn that our self worth is not based on other people’s opinions? Is that something we learn very young? If we missed that original class, is there some place we can take a make-up class? Like summer school maybe?

Sometimes I cannot read my own emotions. Most of the time I cannot read my own emotions. I try to think of who I am and what my opinions are. My opinions seem to sway with the wind.

One question I have had forever it seems like, is does the depression come first, or the thought that no one wants me? Is it the depression making me wish I could take a forever nap, or is it every time I realize I am not wanted.

When you’re my age, being wanted or not shouldn’t matter, but God how it does.

Quincy's Lesson

2008-01-05T00:12:00.000-05:00

In my other life, I was a police officer.

I was one of two female patrol officers out of 80 in the municipality I worked for. To be successful in that career as a female then, it took two things… It took getting through the academy at an age where I was on average 14 years older than most students there, (while they went out and partied every night, I stayed in my little dorm room and studied my ass off), and it took allowing the men on my shift to test me, to see for themselves that they could trust me to cover their ass in a bad situation, to be successful in my chosen career. I loved that job and I was good at what I did.

That was, of course, before my mental illness began to manifest itself.

While on patrol, I met a lot of people from many different backgrounds, many lifestyles that I could never have imagined until I began working with them. One of those people was Quincy.

Quincy was a young homeless man of 24. Sometimes when it was very cold he would go sit on the porch of some business that had closed for the day in order to be arrested and get out of the cold and maybe a hot meal. Sometimes he would go to some big store where he could be somewhat ignored. and he would find his way to the restroom and go to sleep on the floor for a while, at least until an employee would walk in and find him there.

Quincy didn’t talk to everyone, but he talked to me on several occasions. I’m not sure why he chose to talk to me, but I learned so much from him.

Quincy carried everything he owned in a bag. He wore what appeared to be all his clothing, layer upon layer, all the time. He had a most pleasant face and an even more pleasant attitude.

One night, I had stopped by city hall to drop off some reports and Quincy was resting on the bench there in the hallway. Most of the officers didn’t seem to notice him when he was there, or at least they didn’t acknowledge him. This night, he nodded as I walked in the door, and I knew it was a night when he was willing to talk. It was a quiet shift so I stopped and talked.

Now we all have our pre-conceived notions about people, especially someone like Quincy, who was obviously homeless. We assume so many things as to why they are where they are in life. I had too, but Quincy taught me something that night.

He pulled his old ragged bad from under the bench and pulled a sketch pad out. Flipping through the pages, he stopped at a pencil drawing of a woman’s face. I was just dumb struck. I asked if he drew the picture and he solemnly nodded yes. He then flipped through several pages, showing me more of his artwork.

I told Quincy how beautiful his work was and what talent he possessed. He told me about his art and about when he was young and discovered he had that ability. He talked about his life on the streets. He spoke so eloquently. His grammar so perfect.

When I questioned him about helping him find a place to live until he could get back on his feet, he smiled and slowly shook his head. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He was content.

Quincy never bothered anyone. We never had a call on him other than he was attempting to make his bed on some sidewalk behind some business, or someone would call in a report of a “suspicious looking male”. People saw him with his bag and his dark coat with its hood which covered his face and they were afraid. I would have been too had I not known him.

He wouldn’t take money. I have heard more than one person say that, and I too had offered him a few dollars now and then. He would just shake his head and tell me thank you but I don’t need it. I had a friend tell me once that he was at a Burger King and as my friend walked by to go in, Quincy handed him a coupon for a free Whopper. He told my friend that someone had given them to him and he couldn’t use them all before they expired.

Some fast food places would see him outside and take him a meal, which he would accept graciously. He would also take clothing or a blanket if it was offered to him, but never money.

This week, on a night that it was 18 degrees outside, Quincy was hit by a car while trying to push his buggy full of belongings across a four lane highway. By the time the car came to a stop, Quincy was trapped in the windshield of the car, and everything he owned was scattered across the roadway. As of today, Quincy is in stable condition. He has massive internal injuries and it is expected he will lose a leg when he is in good enough condition for surgery.

The local news channel showed a picture of Quincy. I recognized it as an old mug shot. He had that same smile I always saw. They also showed a picture of all his things lying all over the road, and a picture of the windshield he was hanging from when the car finally stopped.

I cannot get his face out of my mind. I hear his soft voice as clearly as if I just spoke with him yesterday. I so desperately hope he will be okay, and that he will not suffer.

If he doesn’t pull through, I hope that when Quincy gets to Heaven, he will have the biggest mansion there. I hope he has more sketch books than exist in all the stores in the world.

God please take care of Quincy, and all the other Quincy’s in the world on this cold, cold night.

December 31 Hmmmmm....Fast Facts for today

2007-12-31T22:42:00.000-05:00

December 31 Hmmmmm....Fast Facts for today.

It was one year ago today I had my last cigarette.
Although I may light up again tomorrow.

I have just come off a 2.5 day migraine.
I have 4 - 5 of these per year.

I survived another "Holiday Season".
Without eating a bullet.

I am bringing in yet another New Year alone.
He had to go to bed several hours ago.

Entanglement in Your Mind

2007-12-26T16:45:00.000-05:00

Have you ever felt so deeply intertwined in something that no matter how badly you feel the need to escape you can’t? You feel as if you are trying to run under water. You are working and working to escape but it’s as if your body is entombed in cement.

You can feel the burning in your throat as the air has been blocked from escaping. Your brain is becoming so muddled from the lack of oxygen that your vision is becoming blurred and the face above you is no longer even clear enough to know for sure if it is a friend who has turned on you or a foe to begin with.

All you know for sure, is that at this moment, you’d give anything to be freed from the entanglement in your mind.

Maxi Pads & Love & Carrie

2007-12-24T11:39:00.000-05:00

I received a phone call Saturday morning. My son-in-law informed me that my firstborn grandchild was in the closet praying, and was about to be beaten.

Now for Stephen King fans, you know what I am talking about. For the rest of you, my baby, my first grandchild, started her period Saturday!

I cannot tell you why I feel the way I do, or even how I do feel. It touched me. I mean I squalled like a baby when she got on the phone to tell me about it. Cried again Saturday night when I saw her for our Christmas dinner.

I was the first person to hold this child. I was her mom’s Lamaze coach. I kept her the 1st 4 years of her life while her mom worked or was busy with my 2nd grandchild, sometimes for 3-4 days at a time when I could talk her mom into it.

Today, at 12, she is a 5’2 inch blonde.
With boobs.
With freckles.
And now…with her period.

Merry Christmas.