Christians and Suicide

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

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…

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PS...

Yeah...I'm coming back.

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

Wellsphere + HealthCentral = Death of my blog

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

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

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 ???

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

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

The view from my desk....

A Tree...? In the House ?

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

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 !!

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

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

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

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

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.