Change Sucks

"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

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

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

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

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

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…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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 !!