Life; it's not a bowl of cereal

My husband and I have been married for 20 years. Most people by this time in their lives have had multiple relationships and multiple jobs. I've had one job and that is a housewife. My husband was in the Navy for 5 years and a plumber ever since. We are rather dull sounding when it's set out like that. We have/had kids and I did/do most of the raising while he works 12+ hours a day five days a week. 

Every year we grow more and more restless. We want more from life. There's something better, right?    He's the top tech and I a lonely desperate housewife. His phones, yes, he has 2 cell phones, ring constantly during the week. Mine rings only when a telemarketer calls. I use almost zero minutes a month on my phone. No one calls and I have no one to call. 

Since my mother died my life changed dramatically with friends and family. My mother in law never calls, my friends all got jobs, and others found new friends that had babies like them. I'm stuck in limbo. I don't have family to visit, I have no siblings, and my father is practically a recluse. 

I find it hard to hear my husband complain he is at a pinnacle in his life. He goes to his mothers to play Catan, he has breakfast with his father, his sisters visit, his aunt bakes him a pie for working in her house, he has friends he can drop in on, he has people calling him. Must be roughy have a family you can call up and go see and spend time with and enjoy yourself. Must be rough to have friends to visit. It must be rough to have people ask your opinion. 

I finally tonight told him I'm jealous. I'm not sugar coating it for him anymore. I tell him and I get, "I know it's hard to go out and meet people but you need to just do it." I think my jaw is still on the floor. Let me look, yep, it's still there.

Excuse me? I'm to chauffeur kids around, find activites for them, and then find new social activites for myself....alone? 

I just dropped the conversation and dried my eyes. I'm going to buy that book we talked about. The one about figuring life out, the one we were going to read together but now he's going to get an audio for his work truck. I'm going to buy that book and do it....alone. 

What's better than that? I don't know but I'm about to find out! 

Religion

My husband and I have been watching a TV show called 4400. Tonight one of the main characters said, "war divides, religion unites."

It's true. If you want  people to come together you get them all on board with the idea of God. President Regan understood that, well at least the groomers did, and they used that to get the votes. The second President Bush got everybody on the God train, as long as it was Christian bound, to support him to rid us of " the evil doers" that happen to be Muslim. 

The best helpers with changing the way people eat was religious people eating like the Bible said to do and eating raw fresh foods. Their influences have been the biggest help to the agnostic and atheist hippie granola crunch folks getting their message across. My raw milk farmer is one of those bible eating folks. Raw milk, pasture eggs, raw butter, yogurt, cheeses, etc... She grows her own veggies, raises her own meat, and lives the way she thinks God would want her to without pesticides for her garden, antibiotic regimens for cattle, and cooking milk to death. She is humane, sustainable, and clean. Religion was helpful for the whole foods movement.

Now I'm seeing  Christian and Jewish vegetarian groups besides the typical Hindu faiths. Environmentalists that are Christian or Jewish are being seen as well. Speaking about being stewards of the earth. Gay pride groups that are religious based are also popping up. 

When we are at war with people that are against us or our values we grapple to find unity and safety. Religion is that place  for many folks. Finding commonality we can set down our arms of war and embrace the olive branch of peace. Religion has a dark side but it can be helpful as well. It can help bring awareness to civil rights issues, animal welfare, environmental issues, and food safety concerns to the foreground quickly because they are already organized in their worship of God. 

Perhaps I need to put aside my cynical mostly atheist views and join my fellow religious brethren into peaceful reform of the world. 

Today

Today I shared myself with someone

Today I stepped away from my protective wall

Today I decided to keep my wall and acknowledge there is a time and place for hiding behind it

Today I decided to cry and let the tears bubble and flood as long as they needed too

Today I accepted the fact I'm still holding onto toxic sludge from my past

Today I shared myself with someone and they told me to let it go

Just the facts, ma'am

A little game is going around Facebook. Someone gives you a number and then you write that many facts about yourself that people may not know. More than a week ago I got number 7 and since then I've not written a thing. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. 

Me? Speechless? Yes, very much so. Why? Good question. I've been thinking about this over and over and what I came up with was I'm private. "Oh, no you are certainly not." You may say if you know me. Yes, I do say a lot on Facebook but really, do you really know me? Do you? 

I sat in a women's circle twice. Each time I never revealed myself. I am a hermit crab. I carry around my cool shell for everybody to see but don't you dare look in it andou certainly cannot come in. I try to open up and it always comes out sideways and awkward. I don't know how to do it. I opened up a little to a guy a few years ago. Never once was I feeling romantic feelings, never once did I think I gave than impression. He did. He thought I was into him and it scared him. He rarely talks to me now. I've even had women say, "uhm, I'm not interested in you." So, obviously, I'm not any good at conversing my inner self. 

Back to the 7 list; I keep going over and over what to say and how to say it. I realized I cannot do it on FB at all. I like some of the anonymity get on the blog. I think only Russians read it anyhow.

So, with all my social awkwardness I'm going to give my 7 list.

1. I watched my first porn when I was 10. I was left with my older cousin and he put tin the VHS player. It changed my world. 

2. I use to give Ken tattoos and stick diamond stud earrings in his mouth to give his teeth bling. Barbie got her hair cut short and would wear Ken's clothes. They had orgies with other dolls. Ken on Ken and Barbie on Ken and vice versa. 

3. I told my my friend I wanted to be a prostitiue when I grow up after watching a movie with one in it and she told my mom. Few days later we played doctor and I gave her a shot with a rusty screwdriver that punctured her skin. 

4. If I had been caught I would have ended up in juvi and a record, enough said. 

5. I saw a bunch of girls that had bullied me all fucking week walking ahead of me on my way home from school. I saw them looking back talking and laughing. I pulled my knife out of my pocket and opened it. As I walked by them the jumped me. I had one on my back trying to choke me. I reached back and stabbed her in the leg. They called me a "crazy bitch" and ran home and told my neighbor, a cop. He went and picked up my books. They made sure to throwing a trash can nearby. 

A week later one of those people had their cousin try to kill me by running me over with their jeep. I ran home by jumping into bushes and hiding behind parked cars. I got in the door and laid down on the floor so they wouldn't see me. The next school year, after another fight and a girl brought a gun to school to threaten me, my folks illegally enrolled me into another school in the county next door. Life changed but I was still treating school like a war zone. 

6. My great aunt was always giving my mom shit for being fat, btw my aunt is fat now. 

I heard her carry on about how my mom would be pretty if...

It was a baby shower so there were cocktail weiners and cheese cubes galore with toothpicks sticking out. When my aunt got up to use the restroom I went over and wedged a toothpick into the weave of the seat and then hid myself to see the fun. She came back and sat down and....SCREAM! I giggled and laughed in my hiding place. 

7. I'm almost 40 and I feel completely unaccomplished. I have a terrible time staying focused long enough to do anything. My world is in chaos almost 95% of the time. I rarely go out with people because I do tend to turn people off. I'm weird. I'm awkward. I'm an ADHD poster child that was never diagnosed. A child of a father that was never diagnosed. I always wonder what it's like to be THAT girl that everybody loves and always has people calling her up to do fun things. Instead I'm the that other girl from the wrong side of the tracks that no one calls. Yeah, it's that hermit thing again and I don't like it. 

There, finally I have voiced my 7. I release it to the ethers and let it go. Goodnight. 

Veterans Day

Today Facebook is filled with people posting stories about veterans, pictures of grandfathers from WWII, fathers from Vietnam, and pictures of themselves. All this once a year hubbub got me thinking about the veterans and lack thereof in my family. My husband's family is full of them. My husband, both of his parents, his step-father, and one of his grandfathers. Both of my grandfathers were in the military.   My father was not and luckily was never drafted, yet his number was up next. They called the draft off just before my dad's number was called. My dad was pretty much a "worthless hippie." He had an Afro and bell bottoms. His friends all had nick names. I grew up knowing and hearing, Crazy Tim, Stupid Sam, Fat Dan, and Sticky Turtle. They each had their own stories. My dad tried to shield me from his friends. He did not want me to be like them. Strung out, broke, and dying young. Most of them are dead, dying, or in prison. One grandfather, still alive, never made it to war for his stint in the Navy. He spent most of his time getting drunk and getting in trouble. I don't have any war hero stories to share about him either. To this day he says he is a vet for his benefits but he mumbles and waves away any gratitude civilians give. My other grandfather, my dad's dad, did see action. Frontline Battle of the Buldge action. The kind of action that made him adamant that none of us never join the military. The kind of action that he refused to speak about sober, the kind of action that changed that man forever. A change that is still rippling throughout the family to this day even though he is no longer here. 

My grandfather saw his best friend killed. He screamed Tom, my grandfathers name, and then his bottom jaw was blown off. That was the only story we ever heard. Basically, if you read Naked and the Dead you will get the gist of his ordeal. After the war ended and he was still stranded in Europe he got thrown in jail. Why? Some Germans, they had to share space with the enemy since the war was officially over, were mistreating some American soldiers. My grandfather jumped in a jeep and purposefully ran over a German that couldn't get away. My grandma said if the German died then my grandpa was going to prison in Germany and most likely for life. If the German lived he was going to stay with the Americans and spend time in a military prison and be dishonorably discharged. Lucky for me, the German lived. Otherwise grandma would have had children with someone else. 

War changed the course of our family. Even though neither of my folks were ever in a war zone the effects from our veteran elders made an impact. Distrusting of the government. Lack of religion. Short tempered. Fearful. 

Tom said more than once that "all wars are started in the name of god."  No good comes from war and  no good comes from religion. That was the underlying theme. Unspoken yet very much there. 

Today is Veterans Day. A holiday where most veterans are still working while non-vets get the day off to  lounge and not knowing the true cost of what a veteran means. 

Going creatively crazy

I bought some much needed supplies and then some. I bought several canvases and tubes of paint. I even bought something I've had my eye in for a while now, a coarse medium that makes the canvas feel like stone. Today I played wight. I applied a thin amount onto an already painted surface and I just applied yet another layer. Tomorrow I am going to paint the rough surface. I'm going to toy with it by adding paint to the material and then apply it to the canvas. I'm so excited. I wish it dried faster than it actually does. I'm seriously impatient right now :) 

Werewolf

My friends and family have gone mad for mythical creatures of our imagination. Vampires and zombies are America's favorite gruesome nightmarish villain that somewhere deep within our shadow selves we know we are those vile things. I've never liked either one of those ghouls of darkness. I hate the idea of sucking blood from a neck or being undead and eating brains. It's all so vulgar. I keep wondering what makes those people long to watch and read about those creatures. What was inside them that they craved to know more and hear more. I thought that perhaps they were secretly evil or mentally disturbed. I couldn't understand it. I still don't. Why? Well, because I connect with a different creature; a werewolf. 

This got me thinking. What makes me attracted to one and repulsed by the others? I have been giving this some thought. Vampires consciously choose to take life. They relish in taking it and also in turning a human into one of them, the undead blood sucker with immortality. Zombies are unconscious autopilot killers. They are going through the motions and not knowing what they are doing because they are more that undead they are actually just animated death. Werewolfs know they are going to change once a month, think menstrual cycle. Many choose to lock themselves away to keep from harming others during this time. They are vicious and mean during the change, yes, but they turn back into normal loving and sometimes meek humans. Werewolves tend to be represented as the quiet human, that might even be skittish, and turn into a massive beast that fears nothing. Even if the werewolf is hurt they revert back to that scared howling animal I pain. They fierceness is temporary and  just a facade.  They change is out of their control and if they could stop it they would stop it. They are conscious living beings that transform unwillingly. 

This is why I cannot relate to people that worship, love, watch, enjoy, and are fascinated with vampires and zombies. I wonder what is in their psyche to enjoy that? Do I enjoy werewolf movies? No, I cannot watch them. I feel sad watching this human morph uncontrollably. I said I can relate, not enjoy. I purely empathize. 

Art

I've been having a whole bunch of fun with art lately. I keep attempting to get the boys interested by bringing in different methods. What happens is they give a feeble attempt and then get up and leave and never return. I used to feel really disappointed but now I look at the bright side. I get to have all the fun and share equipment or watch them waste materials. I have given them the experience and it didn't capture them as it does for me. That is ok. I will continue to hone my skills as they move away from the projects I present. I will keep bringing in new projects.  

This week I taught them block printing. We made pictures on the styrofoam meat trays ( clean and sanitized.) I bought a brayer and ink and we made prints. This week I bought linoleum block and cutters to make a permanent blocks so I can teach them how to make them for  Tshirts. I want to get a screen printing kit and make tshirts like that as well. 

Disappointment

I'm disappointed in the majority of my friends. I'm disgusted as well. Why? Because I perceive them as flaky. I'm finding it hard to deal with flaky anymore. I have little patience for it. Indecisiveness is their major flaw. Excuses galore. Never any follow through. Later I hear, "I wish I had...." 

I heard and hear it all the time. "Let's talk about it." Do we? No. That is code for "I'm not going to bring it up if you don't." I don't because why bother anymore. It never goes anywhere. The other thing I hear is, "I can't plan that far out." Meaning, "I can't make a commitment because something better might show up." 

Some of it is fear basd and the other is just plain old loser friends that want you there for them but can't be there for you. I have the good time drinking friend, the tea drinking pyscho babble friend, and the general fair weather friends. 

I'm discovering that people that I thought were acquaintances are actually more friend material than my friends.

I have to ask myself, "what motivates me to continually attract flaky loser friends?" 

My mom used to get so mad at me about this fact. I always had loser friends. I'm almost 40 and frankly I'm tired of this trend. 

Question is how do I turn it around? How do I attract the kind of friend I am to them and the kind of friend I want in my life? 

No meat for you

Lately I've heard of people that go without meat because they are too poor to pay for it. I get that. Really, I do. I know there are folks out there that are too poor for meat. I also know that the two folks I heard complaining are also smokers. 

I have a really hard time with this notion that you are too Porto buy meat but not too poor for cigarettes. I have watched cigarettes destroy my family. I loathe them. They are evil. You get so addicted that food becomes secondary to your fix. That is a hard core addiction. It's completely and underly disgusting habit. Yet, I see it consuming more and more people each day. Friends that use to smoke only when drinking now carry electric cigarettes so they can "smoke" in non-smoking areas and smoke real cigarettes the rest of the time. 

The people I know that complain they have no meat and smoke look terrible. In fact, I'm now looking at people that have been smoking since high school that are my age and we look vastly different in age. Our voices sound different as well. They are starting to cough and, well, the smell. 

I digress, I am saddened and disgusted to see people sit and complain about not being able to have this or that because they are broke but they continue to make themselves poor. Want meat? Find a way to stop smoking. No, it's not easy. It's hard. It is very very very hard. I know first hand. I smoked over 10 years before I quit. I still crave them almost 14 years later. No, not easy, but neither is COPD, EMPHYSEMA, CANCER, AND DEATH. Ever watch someone die? It's not like the movies. They don't just close their eyes and peacefully slip away. The lucky ones have a hospice nurse nearby giving strong drugs that makes the whole thing go faster and smoother. 

I would really like those people that complain about not having meat and sit down and show them how much their smoking is really costing them. I know it won't change anything but I want them to know it is up to them. Not my fault they've no meat. This rests solely on their head. 

Autumnal Bliss

I have it. Yes, I do. I tried not to admit it but I caught it. I have been bit by the autumn bug. I have a hankering to bake, make soups, and drink hot liquids. Yesterday I baked a huge cake with 5 grated apples and 3 grated zucchini and heaps of cinnamon. Yum! Today I sat outside in my hoodie in the sun and drank hot coffee. Tuesday I'm teaching my son how to make gluten free pop tarts. I think I will make some carrot pumpkin soup this week as well. I would be happier if we could skip the winter bit. I can handle this. Chilly is fine, crisp is alright as well, Arctic blasts that make my nipples pop off and roll off my tits is unacceptable. 

Performance pressure

I can't perform under pressure. 

The first time I had this happen was my grandma took me to the doctor and she took watching me as I peed in a cup. Only thing is I couldn't get the pee out with her watching. I remember my grandma getting angry and huffing and puffing and trying to bribe me with gum. She said we would never leave if I didn't pee. I couldn't pee. Finally, a nurse gave me a Dixie cup. I drank until I could no longer hold in my urine. My body took over and relieved me of the duty of voluntarily peeing in a plastic cup. 

Since then I've had multiple times I'm tongue tied, can't think of the next logical word, I can't comprehend what someone is saying, I'm frozen...the audience walks away and I thaw. My brain functions, I'm relaxed, and I remember my own name. Yes, I literally forgot my own name in a group. I was to give my name and I said, "hi, my name is Josie." What the hell was that? Even the people that knew me were shocked. Not as shocked as I! I turned so red I bet I look like a plump beet and I was burning with a roaring flame. 

Even in casual conversation I freeze. Therapists, life coaches, friends...luckily, never to my husband. I get a drink in me and that all disappears. I know this is all in my head. I just don't know how to turn that part off and bring out the other person without alcohol. 

When I'm on camera I'm fine. It's actual human connection that scares away that piece of me. How do I get that person out? I hate being Jekyll and Hyde. 

Pub crawl

Last night was my first ever pub crawl. Not only that it was set up so we could all get into each bar without a cover charge. The catch was this; the entire group was sectioned off into 4 groups. Each group had its own tshirt color. I was the turquoise group, my friend john was green, Dennis was pink, and the other group was purple and I don't know them. Each group had art projects they were to complete. One was video, one was pictures, one sculpture, and one 2d art. I was in the 2d group. Our group was the smallest. One member of our group only came to one bar. This member has now left a bitter taste on my heart. 

I've not always agreed with this person. I've sat back and watched her live her train wreck life without judgement. I wouldn't live like that but I never felt it was my place to scold her and such. Other friends felt it necessary to tell her off. To get in to her face and make sure she knew they were displeased. 

I thought her past actions were selfish and that she took a cold unloving approach to her situation that pissed off the friends she had. But last night I was really irked. This time she showered us with her icy unyielding love and I am having difficulty today forgiving her.

We were waiting on her last night. No text, nothing, did she give. I texted her, nothing back. We were about to give up when she walked in the door. She sat down and said we were to wait on her boyfriend. She was given a tshirt to wear. She looked at it in disgusts and passively refused to wear it. Boyfriend arrived and shortly after we headed off on our walk. We all stop to help another team with their tripod. She pushes forward and says in a hasty nasty tone, "I'm going." I let everyone know she left and everybody tries to catch up. She then says, "oh, are we suppose to stay together?" I said, "yes, we are the blue team....that is why you have that tshirt." She does this snobby up in the air nose thing and says with a laugh, "I'm not a team player."  NO SHIT! 

Her and her boyfriend have a drink and a shot of tequila and leave. She barely says good-bye. I know she has to work the next morning but even then it is still only about 8pm. My biggest beef was the lack of fun playful spirit she was unwilling to give. She distananced herself, she was cold and unyielding, and was deliberately not going to join the festivities and be a team player. 

I really feel like my eyes have finally been opened. I can't decide if I'm really disappointed in her or myself for not seeing this earlier. She is on a destructive path of burning bridges. I feel angry and saddened by my experience with her last night. I'm disappointed too. 

Other than that, I was a team player and by doing that I had a blast. We each made a piece of art at each bar. Even if we only spent 3 minutes on it. A final art piece will be made by the leader from our work. Then each team will be judged and awarded something.

I hope we get to do it again!

Last night....

Last night I went to, what I thought it was going to be, a poetry reading and story telling. It was at a very liberal church that many Christian folks would argue is not church enough. I think this stems from using words like source, universe, the one, the power, and other non-conservative wording. They even hold services on Saturday at 11.  A friend invited me because he was doing some of the story telling. I read the invite and it was only 20 minutes away and was only an hour long. Sure, I was in! Sounded better than watching tv and feeling bored. 

My husband got off early enough he was able to go as well. I drove as he gnawed on a cold chicken leg he found in the fridge. We pulled up, got out, and walked in. Diverse crowd of races and ages. We give our love donation and was instructed to go in other doors because they don't want to disturb the meditating people. 

Meditating? The flyer said "celebration." Who meditates at celebrations? Ok, whatever. We quietly walk in. Soon, hubby and I get distracted and begin to whisper. I finally tell him to stop because he thinks he whispers quietly but HE DOESN'T. He never learned that art of secrecy to keep the teacher from knowing what you were really doing.

The room felt somber like a funeral. It did not feel like what the flyer said was going to happen; a celebration. The minister gets up and some guy with a Casio plays prerecorded Casio music and it's feeling more like a futuristic funeral and the minister gives a forgettable whispery prayer then some lady recites a open that left me feeling kind of blue. Didn't the flyer mention celebration? Then my friend gets up and starts his story telling. It was pretty gloomy. I had heard the tale before but underdifferent character names. King finds out wife is cheating, kills her, remarries every night for 1001 night and kills each wife in the morning. The last wife keeps herself alive by telling him a story with a cliffhanger. In the end she wins and lives and his heart is softened and they also have kids by now. Yet, he did not tell it that fast. It lingered dramatically. I did like the diggeridoo from Casio electric piano guy. That was nice, but his singing bowl skills need some work. My friend would leave the stage and someone else would read a poem or, here is the kicker, we had to participate. What the hell? It turned into something I dread. The Man Kind Project curse. Anytime these men get involved with anything it always has to become a process to go deeper. I was, figurately, thrown from my horse. My husband was too. He said in a slight accusing tone, "did you know this was going to happen?" In my quietest loud throaty whisper, "NO!"

We had to break off and find a partner and say hello and share. Then we had to share with someone new, then with someone new. There were some fun parts but mostly I think they weirded out more people than they helped. Remember, we came for a celebration. Not a soul searching workshop. 

I left having mixed feelings. I didn't want to influence my husband with negativeity if he enjoyed himself. I simply asked, " what did you think about tonight?" 

His body language spoke volumes. He wiggled in the passenger seat. He groaned while he was thinking  and was looking at the sky. He then closed his eyes  and when he opened then and his tight disapproving lips he said, " it was fun but really awkward."

Good, I can let it rip.

The theme was how you retreat and close yourself off to others. The whole thing felt like you should be ashamed if you are an introvert. "You should be like me, up here wanting everybody to see me. I want lots of people to see, touch, and talk to me. I like to be busy and you should too."

I'm not a social whore. I pick and choose. I open myself up when needed. When I feel safe. This was contrived. I felt pressured. I felt shamed. It wasn't a celebration. It was a pathetic attempt to run someone through a process. To make a moment to celebrate oneness by excluding people that connect to the oneness in a different way and tell them they are not doing it correctly. You should do it this way. 

I'm not really into workshops. Been there and done that. I'm not a workshop junkie. Oh, I'll go if I feel the need. In fact I recommend them to friends. I'm just not that I to them anymore. I'm searching for something else. If I want a workshop to delve deeper, whatever your perspective is, then I'll join. Don't spring this on people. Really! I'm really leery of going any place else where this friend invites me. I might have to pair off with some weirdo that let's me know I'm not deep and kept looking all around the room at the other ladies. " no shit, I'm under pressure to give answers I don't have" was what I was really thinking,oh and, " dude, you are very rude." I kept thinking, "this is starting to get on my nerves." 

Just when I thought it was done then another exercise with yet another partner. I gave it my all and did the motions but the whole time I was thinking, " this is the most ridiculous bullshit hoo-ha flim flam farce I've ever stumbled upon." 

I looked at my husband and said, " at one time I would have believed these people knew the way. Now I know they are all lost still and think their way is the best. I don't belong there anymore. I don't believe what they believe and that is ok. I just know this is not me." He silently agreed. 

I can see "spirit" differently. Perhaps from witnessing death more than once. Perhaps from my constant search and realizing nothing ever changes unless YOU decide to do it differently. No dance, no prayer, no wishes or pleas, not breathing, none of it will change your life. Your thinking, your attitude, and your choices make or break you. What to discover your gifts? Do what feels good. You might have tort y a few things but don't give up. I love my special needs clients and yoga. I absolutely love them. I would cry buckets of tears if they were hurt. I never knew I had that in me. I was scared but I did it. I didn't need meditating, breathing techniques, life coach, dance routines, eat weird, fast, none of that. I just needed to answer the call. My friend sent out an email. I was the only one that said, " I'll teach them."

I'm quite tired of these workshop mentality get-togethers. I'm now on guard about going to functions with my husband and his MKP guys. It is almost more stressful than hanging out with my mean drunk family. 

From now on I'm always going to wonder if my friend will tell a story and I will be safe to listen or if I will be accosted with demands of "stand up and find a partner, not someone you came in with." Oh, fuck no, I'm out here. Let's go get a Mojito and laugh and have a real celebration of oneness over drinks!  

Text

I got a text yesterday at 2pm. I was confused. I thought it was sent to me by mistake. It said  "grandpa C died the funeral is now." 

I sent the text to my mother in law, she knew grandpa C. I could see her phone was connected by the green light. She didn't respond. I sent it to my sister in law in Massachusetts. Response. She said she got an email early in the morning but hadn't read it until recently. 

I never heard back from my mother in law or my husband that sent the text in the first place. Not a call or text back. I was in the dark until my husband got home at 10:30pm. He told me "everybody says hi" 

I look confused at him. "Who is everybody?"  He says, "everybody at teen night."  "You went? is that why you are so late?"  "I was working nearby and dropped in." See, I don't mind he dropped in but I was under the influence he was working. Lack of communication, again. 

Finally, I mentioned the funeral. "So you went to the funeral?" He said, "yeah, I sent you a text. You say I never tell you anything." 

This communication thing eludes him. As you can tell, his mother isn't much better because she never acknowledged my text either. I asked him how he found out about the funeral. He said, "I got this text that said, "grandpa C died Sunday, funeral is at 2" he said he got it at 1pm. He didn't know who sent it. It came to be it was his other sister, not the one I texted. 

This is my life with this family. No communication. None. They expect mind reading and if they say something it's not uncommon to be vague. Once someone sent an email with the words "help, my house is flooding and I need S to come over quick!" I got the email 3 days later because I was busy. When S called them back and said we just got the message the other person took it as we didn't want to talk to them. Oh for crying out loud! You send a freaking email in an emergency and it is our fault because we didn't want to talk to them? Aye aye aye...I slipped off the trail. 

I'm seriously not sure how to respond to my husband saying, "I sent that because you say I never tell you anything." 

I was speechless. I was struck dumb. Yes, technically he said something to me. But when I text him for clarity I got none. As with his mother. His father sent an email to his sisters, not my husband. My husband told me his father and wife and his mother were at the funeral. I did, at least, get a call he was working late. This was after I made dinner, but hey, I got a call. No mention of funerals thought my text. I waited to see...

Am I the only one that thinks this family needs help with communication? Am I the problem? I feel absolutely crazy after talking to these people at times. I am usually the last to know or they expect me to know because they swear they told me and it usually comes down to the fact they told someone else. I don't speak vagueanees or between-da-linesanees. I wasn't raised like that. My grandpa would scream, "god dammit" and then bark his orders and he still does. My other grandfather would yell " you're a fucking bitch." To my mother when he was drunk. My grandmothers were about the same. I knew where I stood with those folks. No mystery. No vague round about ways of saying we hate you, or we don't want you around, or you are stupid. Nope, they would just tell it like it is. My grandfather to this day says, "you big dummy" when he yells at you about something stupid you did. No, it doesn't feel good. That's not the point. But feeling like a mushroom, sitting in the dark, fed bullshit doesn't feel good either. 

I married into the opposite extreme of my family.  Just looking for balance here, folks. Just some balance. 

Mo' flo' time...

It's that ime of the month. Bitchy, bitchy, bitchy. Not being heard for a month and then for a few days I explode in a whirlwind anger. I cry upon viewing touching stories. I have a short tattered but flammable fuse, I think of memories and reflect. I drink red raspberry leaf tea in hopes it calms my fiery womb. I increase my red meat and vitamin c to help myself absorb more iron. I rest because my body is doing a lot of work right now and I get tired easy. This is every month ritual that I honestly have not ever been able to embrace or love. 

Perhaps I would if I had people around me that understood, cared to understand, and tried to ease things up a bit. My mother was a "deal with it" and "suck it up." Kind of woman. Her favorite line, "no rest for the wicked." She would follow this up with, " I've been good in this life, I must have been evil in my last life." 

The rest of my family are skilled in the art of ignoring and changing conversations. My great grandmother told my mother that babies were made when a boy and girl sat under a tree and ate green apples together. She told me her sister died from consumption because she stepped in a puddle. This was the most health information I got from my family. My family also has this habit of saying nothing about dead people, even their ills, because it's rude to talk about the dead. If you odd you must whisper, just in case they hear you.

I digress, I am about to venture into a few days of major blood loss and hormonal changes and I'm expected to love this about my body. Meanwhile, I'm looked upon as lazy or weak because I need to rest and I am emotional. I sucked it up for a month, I dealt with it for a month, let me have a few fucking days to wallow in my pity of being a woman. 

This time brings up a lot of issues floating around, bumping into memories, and sliding down a chute of despair landing in a heap at the base of my skull. There I wisk them away into an antechamber where I discuss with myself about how to live my life and if I'm doing it right, and whatever else I think of. after I'm through with those pesky varmints I toss them over a cliff. Yet, somehow, someway, they recover and slither, climb, and leap back by the next month. 

It's at this moment I'm suppose to be gloriously happy to have the realization that for the past month I was lonely, miserable, and left out in the cold. Then rejoice that my body is in turmoil as my uterus is completed shredded and deposited out of my body to make new for a new one. 

I'm suppose to be grateful for being a woman and having this experience meanwhile, while having this experience, everybody acts like I'm being melodramatic,unreasonable, and being a bitch. 

Perhaps if the rest of the month I was heard and noted as a sex toy, if I was able to have discussion and not one sided talks (meaning I'm doing all the talking), if I wasn't told I'm the one escalating the issue at hand when I'm attempting to be heard for the 100th time and ignored, when I ask for help and don't get it, when conversations are changed, when when when when....

The men in my life are allowed to me angry, pissy, argumentative, fussy, picky, bitchy, cantankerous, lazy, loud, mouthy, etc... All the time. I begin to lose my cool, being a woman, and I'm promptly put back in my place. I am to remain stoic. Emotionaless, boring, plain, and have a high libido in case my man wants sex. I'm the greatest actress of them all. On stage 24/7. The great chameleon. My only flaw? My period. The distaste of male influence on my tongue and oppression binding my ankles. I am to be seen but not heard, my words are of little importance. I am a woman.   

Shaking it up

My husband and I have decided to give foster care a twirl. We've been playing with the ideas adoption now, well, since before attempting to adopt Flint. We discussed the pros and cons and talked to friends and we decided to give this a shot. My husband said this would let us see if we really wanted to adopt. After caring for small children we would know if we really want to do this, again. We start classes in January 2014. We know we will take babies and under 4 but we haven't discussed if we will take special needs or sibling groups. I'm open to some special needs but not all. Special needs covers so much from being deaf but mentally aware to learning disabilities that are not severe to extremely severe. Someone I knows a 4 year old that looks all of two, maybe younger, he is mentally very slow and both legally blind and deaf. I am not about to take that on. Even though he is sweet, I am not capable dealing with a kid I can't communicate with.

 Our 10 week classes will help us determine what type of child(ren) we will want. Meaning ages, how many, etc... Today I was in the phone with people and discussing all this and discovered that potentially we have room for 4 kids besides my own. Not that I want to take that on but we have that potential. The social worker said we should qualify for more but not less children because we can always say no to them but we can't change after all the paperwork goes through without it being a big deal. I'm leaning towards being ok with a sibling group but my husband says we should start with one. The social worker told me that 90% of the time these kids are not alone. 

My family doesn't know, yet. No one reads my blog from the family so I feel pretty safe with keeping secret from them. I know I would hear all kinds of negative bullshit I don't want to hear. I would hear how I shouldn't get involved with other peoples problems, or how I was ruining my life by taking care of kids, how in never going to be able to find myself if I'm always taking care if kids, etc... 

As I see it, the people that say those things also age much faster Than the ones staying lively with kids. My grandparents raised my cousin. They stayed very active. My grandfather still goes to my cousin son's ball games. Meanwhile, my other grandparents molded away to nothing. I'm not a bar hoping person. I'm a Disney World, kids art, fun science experiments, and water park type person. I love kids and kid activities. I'm not ready to grow up and be boring.   

To be honest this scares the crap out of me and excites me at the same time. Here we go again.....

Socialization

When you homeschool the first thing you hear about, and I mean the very first thing you hear about, is how do you socialize. I always internally sigh and think, "really? This old song and dance, again?"

I have to force a smile because gut reaction is to pinch my eyebrows together and flare my nostrils. 

I can't even begin to tell you how many people ask this question. From doctors to cashiers, this exact same question is brought to the table over and over with a side dish of, "how does this work? Does the state give you something, how about testing....." The social question is almost always first. 

I usually give a bland response that seems to suit them, "park days, co-op classes, and other activities." What I don't say is my kids socialize mostly on the computer. Seriously. My last two talk all day, if I let them ( we do have to do school you know), to kids all over the world. My youngest knows kids in Norway, Australia, Canada, Scotland, and Britain. He also has friends all over the USA. When we go to game stores teens and 20 something's ask him what video games he is playing and they discuss them. The kid is more socialized than I ever was in public school. We don't go to park days anymore, or the co-op classes. He couldn't find kids that liked what he liked; video games. I decided it was time to let him be himself and stop trying to get him to fit a mold of having friends from the homeschool group. Life is easier for me. I know where he is and he is laughing, talking, and is happy with his headset on and Skype going simultaneously. My only rule is they have to be kids. Yesterday Skype was ringing off the hook; Scotland was calling. This is normal for us. The iPad starts to ding and we scramble around to find my son to tell him a friend is calling. His friends range in age from 7 to 16. 

My son is 11 and he started gaming 4 yrs ago with Minecraft. I was angry for a long time about his game usage. I took it away, I made him do other things. He was never as happy as gaming. His reading, spelling, and manners are all improved from gaming. Many of his starter games were communicating through typing only. He learned real fast he needed to know how to read and spell. 

Now he does both. He also communicates with other cultures and needs to cooperate with others to play many of these games to survive. His please and thank yous and the attitude of gratitude has improved greatly. 

This past week I bought him his first computer. A gaming Asus laptop. It's a monster of epic proportions. As I was looking to buy computers I heard stories. One man told me about his son now makes games after going to school in Georgia to learn such things. Another told me a friend is sponsored by Monster. Another told meh is brother met almost all his friends there online playing games. His sister in law was me of those friends. His brother and her met when they were 14 and 6 years later they met each other in person with the other friends at a gaming convention. They are great friends, they just don't physically see each other. My best friend is in California. We text every morning. Monday through Friday she wakes my ass up at 8am. We text on and off during the day depending on what has happened. Friends don't always have to be right there physically. It matters if they are there, period. 

My children socialize. They just do it differently. It's all good. 

The sun will come out....

I needed my belligerent rant and tear soaked pillow. I needed to vent my anger and frustration. I fumed even a bit this morning. Then I realized I was hurting myself and I was not being as loving as I wanted with everyone else; hubby, kid, and pets. I got over my surliness and did some painting. 

When hubby got home we went for a walk after his nap and watched our Netflix show then took a shower and we got into bed. We did some talking along the way. 

Foggy bottom breakdown...

I lost it tonight in slobbery snotty tears. I at a reluctant threshold. I was expecting two years ago to have a mom and toddler. I have neither. My husband is refusing anymore adoption adventures and basically, bluntly, said it was my fault I got sterilized. Never mind the fact it was suppose to be reversible. Never mind the fact my fourth and last pregnancy was the second while on the pill. Never mind the fact I begged him to get fixed because it was easier on men and reversals were easier and more successful. Never mind the fact I begged him to wear a condom. Never mind the fact I got an IUD that he said had to go because he could feel it. No, it's my fault, only my fault, my surgery didn't go as expected and I was left permanently sterile and unable to get it reversed. All my fault, just like my first pregnancy/miscarriage. 

The failed adoption left a bad taste in papa bears mouth and since he holds all the funds, said no more. Yet, I was told how he wished he had more children. Talk about fucking guilt trip. Did I mention how I asked him to step up to the plate to help prevent unwanted pregnancy when I had my hands full? Just checking. Anyhow, here I am, and have been wanting more children. Tonight I cornered Mr Vague and Dr. Change the Subject and told him I wanted a straight answer. It was the dreaded NO. 

Did I cry? Buckets of sloppy snot filled tears, hell yes, I cried. I cried for the lost chance and the shakes new beginning. I'm scared, rightly so. I'm going into something I've barely scratched the surface of when I was just a kid; the work force. 

My completely unaware and insensitive husband told me he was scared when he went to boot camp but one step at a time he made it. Oh, let's give him a fucking medal. He signed up at 17 and unless he wanted to do drugs he was locked into that contract if he liked it or not. There was no baby steps. Give me a fucking break. He went in and was told what to do and when. They gave him an education and a guaranteed job. When he left the military he went straight into the job he has now based n the training the military gave him. Not only that he was a honorably discharged veteran with 5 years experience under his belt.

What did I do during that time? I worked at odd jobs here and there in retail until we moved to the east coast. Then I did nothing until I got pregnant. Then I got pregnant 3 months later after my miscarriage. I then became a full time mom. We moved back home and had number 2 and then had number 3 just 23 months later. In my 20 years of marriage I've not worked since he left for boot camp which was 2 weeks after we got married. 

Since then I've looked for part time work. Walmart, Outback, Applebee's, Whole Foods, and temp agencies. I couldn't work for any of those places because of various ridiculous reasons. One said it was because it had been so long since I had worked, didn't have a degree (to answer phones), I was a stay at home mom and they didn't think I could handle the stress of waiting tables, I didn't have 2 years experience. That 2 years experience was the biggie. That came up a lot, then college, then the misconception stay at home moms are lazy asses. 

Seriously, I couldn't get a job at shitty restaurants and big box department stores. Then I hear my husband say, " you can do anything you want." Oh, can I go back to school? (Did you hear the chirping crickets in the silence, I did)

I have a part time job now. I'm building boxes in a warehouse in a questionable work environment were  my MIL got me a job. My husband gave me the, " you can't expect to start at the top." Bullshit speech. Uh, no, I didn't expect top. It's the fact I'm almost 40 and I'm building boxes to ship crap out and a woman covered in tattoos and piercings is talking to me like I'm an idiot. That I'm sitting there and there conversations are nothing like what I talk about and they ALL looked disgusted when I wouldn't go on a smoke break with them to eat Pringles and drink a Big Gulp.  I ate an organic apple and drank hibiscus tea and tried to talk about a book that only one person had heard of and totally missed the meaning of the book.  No, I didn't expect top dog, but I didn't expect this either. Meanwhile, the 21 year old drama teacher I hire for my kids gets hired on as customer service. The position I asked for for over a year.  Beggars can't be....well, you know. 

It rubs me the wrong way when my husband thinks I'm being unreasonable. Is it really unreasonable to request money for school when people are asking for a degree? He is clueless what I am up against. I've been told not to interfere with his schedule. That means  his work takes priority. He's not getting off so I can get to a job. If I have to pay for a sitter then what is the point of getting a job when I make so little as it is. I've felt like I've been in a losing situation for years. I can't ask him to get off so I don't make plans. I don't make plans so I don't get to do anything. I don't do anything and people get the idea I don't like doing things. I get a sitter then I am out of my meager allowance. I get a free sitter, aka MIL, and I hear complaints about when am I going to be home. So, really, why bother? 

That has been my philosophy for years, a couple decades practically. It's getting old. I'm bored. I bored and even more bored with the idea of building boxes and I have only worked one day. 

The question now is what am I going to do. I've gotten the final word of no more kids unless they are biological and it's not happening, period, so that is out. My kids are older and able to stay home together for a bit without me, this means I can work. I'm going to work to have money to spend on myself. My husband asked me what I wanted to do and I didn't have an answer. I guess I'll keep building boxes and not go on smoke breaks and take, those so called, baby steps.

Unfortunately, for my husband, I have an involuntary scowl and squinty eyes when our eyes meet. 

God farts...

Yesterday I signed up for The Big History Project online. As I was scrolling through the curriculum I noticed what I was teaching my son what was considered part 7. I noticed the Big Bang as number one. I was curious and asked my son if he new what the Big Bang was. He proceeded to explain what the Big Bang theory was about. 

First, you need to know my son says he is an Atheist. What he said next blew me away. He told me it was "just some stupid theory that some scientist made up about how God farted and made planets." I stopped him right there and said, " soooo, we need to study this  right now!" 

We studied the Big Bang and watched videos and so forth and afterwards he realized how nutty his explanation was. I never said anything. I just said, " so do you now see God didn't fart out planets?" 

I was in shock at first but it makes sense. My son has never been interested in much of anything but causing problems. His first plan of action in the morning was pinching, or poking, or stealing toys. He would never listen to a book. Never rest and relax. Never take time to watch something educational. Never took the time to listen to a discussion. Never felt the need to learn something about the world he lives in. He seriously could've cared less. 

It's taken 11 years but he has finally decided he needs to know a thing or two. He is listening to books, reading, writing, looking forward to the online class I'm enrolling him in soon, and he is not complaining about learning, period. 

I think he realized and is realizing how little he knew and knows. By this age my other boys were having intelligent conversations. This son couldn't have an intelligent conversation with a dirty sock. Oh, it wasn't from me. I cannot and will not take the blame. I've read books that he would run out of the room. Turn on audio books and scream. Turn on documentaries and he would complain or leave. He would cry, scream, complain, and completely shut down when he thought he was being taught something. I couldn't even sign him up for art classes and he loves art. 

Something has finally clicked. Either he realized he knows very little or he is finally hungry for knowledge. This week he asked for a computer so he can edit his own movies, make his own games, write his screenplays, and even asked for and got a library card. Miracles never seem to cease and neither do God farts. 

First day of school...

My older two boys ran off for camp this morning, they finally made it to the airport in Oregon in 9.5 hours. They are slowly riding a big old school bus for 3 hours to camp. My youngest is not old enough to cross the country and go to Not Back to School Camp. He has to wait 2 more years. Today, instead, he started school with me. 

It went rather well, I'm happy to say. He complained a little but not much. I think I prepared him quite well. He read a chapter from his book. He listened to a chapter from a different book. He listened to me read history. He drew something in his history lesson book that made an impression. He started learning cursive handwriting. He played with clay. He worked online with his nine curriculum. We went through flash cards and we did some social studies trivia. That's a fabulous day in my book. I'm very pleased. He stayed in good humor as well. Pinch me! 

I think he actually enjoyed himself this time around. Let's cheer for more great days.  

I'm a bit odd...

“I think they think I’m a bit odd, you know. Some people call me ‘Loony’ Lovegood, actually.” from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. 

I really connected with Luna Lovegood in the Harry Potter series. She reflected many of my thoughts on friendship and being with people. I simply adore Luna! 

I find myself longing to have more and better friendships and relationships and much of the time that quote above is the exact thought I am thinking. The subtle micro expressions and little whispered murmurs that others miss I catch. I see and hear what others do not and I know I'm not "normal" enough for the majority of people. 

It makes for lonely times of reading my magazines upside down.....

Soul Searching

I've renewed my soul searching party. I'm in need of a rescue. I didn't realize this for a couple years. I a slow learner, I suppose. I'm at least too stubborn to recognize my own needs or wrapped up in others needs. Either way, I'm finally seeing I need SOMETHING positive in my life. I need more happiness. I need more smiles. I need more warmth. I need more inner peace and love. I need more people.

Before my mom got sick I was journeying along with my husband, his request, to see about Yogananda's Self-Realization Fellowship. We got into an argument about the teachings and I quit. This upset my husband. I enjoy the chanting kirtans with ISKCON folks but many of their ways don't jive with me either. Cannot stand the Abraham religions either. I not really a religionist. I like aspects of the spiritual practice but not all the dogma. Because of this I miss out on the community aspect. 

When my mom died I lost it. I hated everybody. Atheist, Christians, you name it, if you had an agenda I hated you. I quit going to kirtans, I quit chanting, I was mad as hell and sadder than I ever have been before. 

A year later on a whim I joined the local yoga teacher training program. A year long study of yoga. I thought this would only be poses and such. It turns out I learned chants in Sanskrit ( which a coupe I ROCK) and philosophy and many other spiritual nuggets. My heart softened. The yoga school was exactly what I needed. Great people, great exercise, gentle information, and time to think and let it all sink in. 

During this same time I was trying out Buddhism. I think the idea of Buddhism is great but I discovered it was really a bunch of religious haters the were cynical and grumpy. What I was trying to escape from myself. They were great big shiny mirrors. I needed that, not a lot, just enough to wake my ass up!

Anyhow, here I am, two years since my mom died and graduated from yoga school and I'm back to finding myself once more.  Tonight my husband asked for date night to be at the meditation service at the semi-local SRF facility/church. I agreed. Not sure where this is all going. Still not sure I believe in God. Still a little cynical. I like to think I'm keeping an open mind but I think there are some speed bumps and road blocks up ahead. 

I think it's safe to say that Soul Searching should come with warning shirts and banners for family and friends. "Warning this person is attempting to find themselves. They are going to have erratic and weird behaviors, ideas, and new friends during this process." 

School time...

Next week I begin school with my youngest. I will get 2 weeks of alone time with him while his brothers are at camp. Two weeks we desperately need to get the school year off with a bang. At least get it off with the least resistance. My youngest is extremely bull headed. He is so much like my mother it drives me crazy. Even if his life depends on it he won't budge. He stands his ground even if he is in the wrong. He is hard to please as well. This type of person is a challenge to teach. Add on to the fact that he loves ruts. He hates to change his routine. I need those two weeks to mold him without interference of mouthy brothers that are as irritated as I, but less patient. I've been working on this for about 2 months. I give him clues and hints, then I work it up to facts that he will face. Then I bring in the subtle changes. I first started with an online school site to practice with and then I bought educational iPad games. I wanted my son to read but he was very reluctant so I found an app that reads the ebooks to him. Now I have him reading a chapter book to me everyday. He reads his book, then listens to his book while he looks at the words, he listens to an actual audio book, he plays his iPad educational games, and he does the online school site, plus we listen to books in the car. Our geography puzzles have arrived and tomorrow I will pull out the world one to have him complete it with me. Bit by bit I have gotten him engaged and he doesn't throw his typical temper tantrum too much. He also knows the gaming will stop too. I've gotten him hooked on the A-Team and he is only allowed to watch it while walking or jogging on the treadmill. He can't get off until the show is over. He gets exercise, win for me, and he gets his show, win for him. 

He loves games so much he plays them without even knowing it. He is completely unaware of this trait. You want him to do something he has to be manipulated into doing it. He will not do something otherwise. I've never met someone like him. Hmmm, maybe I do. Come to think of it, his father...

I'm sure some will say I'm stubborn. Yes, I am, but not this stubborn. I've had my hands full with this one since birth. He was wiggly, hard to nurse, busy, unfocused, screamed a lot. Always in trouble by squeezing out all the toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner. He would eat toothpaste, drink strangers drinks, dig in public trash cans and eat gum, he peed on his bed when angry with me, he drew on the walls... The list is infinite and incomplete. When I call him a pain in the ass that is an understatement.

I've been challenged from day one and he still is but now we can have conversations and it has gotten easier. Not easy just easier. I still have days where I'm at my wits end with that one. If he went to school he would be in a constant stream of detentions, visits to the principal, and in school suspensions. His mouth would get him into more trouble that anything. Next his unwillingness to participate. I know because he's been kicked out of theater camp because he ran away, art camp because he cried,  and I removed him from school because the teacher, I could tell, hated him. 

Thing is he is a super sweet kid when it seems like it is his idea, it seems fun, he likes the idea, or it's not a "learning experience." I hear how he talks to people online when he thinks I'm not listening. He is very very kind to them. He thanks them for their help. He tells them he thinks what they did was a great thing and gives positive and uplifting feed back. He is not the kid that yelled at me about how he hates "stupid libraries and books." 

I never knew how hard motherhood was. No one prepares you for it. It is like being thrown into the woods naked and alone and told to survive. I have so many survival skills its not even funny. Each boy has come with unique issues I've had to work through. BUT this one, my sweet and quiet non intrusive  little bubble and squeak, has been my biggest challenge of all. 

Motherhood is not for wimps. If you're a wimp better become a nun. 

I believe....part 2

I am not going to give this much thought just let my heart or gut or whatever you like to say is speaking for me....

I believe people should have the right to eat whatever they like. You want raw milk? Go for it. If you want chemicals then more power to ya. No restrictions. I do believe we should be informed about our choices though. Knowing that aspartame is a neurotoxin will help me decide if or when to ingest it. I believe in truth. Don't tell me marijuana is bad for me and pharmaceuticals are safe when more people die from legally prescribed drugs than illicit ones everyday. Let me decide if its safe. I believe people should be allowed to decide their life path. Schooling, careers, lifestyles, etc...

I believe people should feel free to worship or not worship without fear. I also believe no one should tell someone else to believe in what they do. I believe organized religion is unsafe. I believe every organized religion should be protected by law if one is allowed to be protected. I believe patriotism can be dangerous as well. You forget to look objectively at your country's dealings and become blinded by the flag you are carrying. I believe you should have the right to treat yourself to any medication you want. Cocaine, morphine, marijuana, Tylenol, or nothing at all. Whose body is it anyways? 

I believe you should have the right to be delusional and weird. The right to be moody and sad. The right to be happy and glad. The right to pick your nose and fart as you please. To go topless and have sex in your yard. I believe simple is better. I believe in lust at first sight and love at first quiet talking moment. I believe in science and I believe science don't have all the answers. I believe something's cannot or have not be answered and look like miracles. I believe humans have it all wrong. I believe I do too. I believe in love. I believe peace is possible but peace takes hard work that many find daunting. I believe anger is our easiest default emotion, I know, because I default a lot. 

I believe some of the best people in my life don't know how much I really care for them ( this does not include my family, they know)

I believe I'm not that important yet I am everything. I believe it's hard to feel beautiful when society says your not. I believe it's hard to be a woman in whatever society you're born into. I believe I don't get touched enough, loved enough, and smiled at enough. I believe I'm alone too much. I believe I might be needy but I might just be human. I believe life is too short to give a fuck if you like my beliefs. I do believe you have the right to your own beliefs. I believe smiles work and so do kisses. I believe people are too stuffy and uptight. I believe that there was a Jesus and a Mohammed but I don't believe we can say what they allegedly said was the truth because we were not there. I emphatically do not believe in the story of Adam and Eve. I believe in some sort of evolution. I believe I'm finished for this evening. I believe it's time to make dinner.

 

I Believe....part 1

A FB friend asked if everyone would write a piece where they would say, " I believe" then write without much thinking what is is you believe. 

Instead of writing I was just thinking and then this scary thought happened. I had nothing. What do I believe? Holy smokes, I was left with nothing. I felt empty. 

As I sit here on my porch swing in a relaxed state I still cannot think of anything. I used to have this same problem as a child. Someone would ask who my hero was and they expected an answer. I was even expected to give oral report projects on that subject a couple times. Seriously, I faked it every time. People like to hear you have a hero. I was never the child that said fictional characters were my heroes. I knew them to be fake. I never thought of non-fiction humans as heroes either. They were human. They had no special skills that made them anymore special than I. They had to poop, put on their own shoes, and pull up their pants just like the rest of us. They were not special enough for me to call them a hero. 

I guess I feel the same way about beliefs. Beliefs change and I don't find it clutters up my mind much. 

What clutters my mind is just living. Relationships, finances, recreation, and careers. My mind is preoccupied with surviving, loving, and living. 

I'm not saying I don't have beliefs. it is just I don't sit around thinking about them. Like I never thought about heroes to worship when I was little, like every adult assumed I was doing. Maybe this is weird, I don't know. I don't care. Just out of curiosity I will give thought to my belief in a different post called Part 2.

Displaced anger?

I'm one hostile bitch some days since my mom left her body. You might ask me for a glass of water and I scream, " NO!" Then other days I will feed you breakfast in bed. These past 2 years have been tough. I no longer have the screaming sweating nightmares of my mom gasping for breath and dying. I still dream About her but now she is annoying the fuck out of me. I've yelled at her in my dreams, told her to be quiet. At one point in my dream I realized my mom was with my grandma and I said, " aren't you both dead? You can't tell me what to do anymore." I don't know why but on that dream I woke up laughing hysterically and it woke my husband up. I guess telling her off felt so good I laughed about it. 

My mom was not easy. Not even close to being easy. She was demanding, rude, and spitefully passive aggressive mean bitchy Queen. She would lie to my father to make me sound worse than I was. He would never believe me because I was the one in trouble and the child and I had a mouth on me to boot. By all accounts I should have been relieved she died. In fact, during my Women Within weekend my work revolved around her. It took 4 to 5 women to keep me from killing the woman acting like my mom. I lost it and I remember seeing the fear in the woman's eyes that was playing good ol' mom. 

Today I realized one of those times I was angry but I felt helpless to do anything about it. My 20th wedding anniversary is around the corner ( I was promised a fabulous trip but that's not happening, different story). This anniversary reminded of when my folks had their 25th. I was 23, I had a 2 year old, and lived in Florida and it was October. A far cry from my folks in Cleveland, Mo. My mother called me to rail against me for not throwing her a party. I was an ungrateful brat, uncaring, selfish, blah blah blah. Her friends girls threw them a big party for their 25th. That is what I endured. A crazy bitchy shadow-living nut case that made me look like the bad guy all the fucking time to my dad. 

Her friend's girls had help plus the key word here was "girls" plural. I am an only child. They also had aunts and uncles that gave a shit. I didn't even get a baby shower and I was food stamp poor and I asked  for one. Like those people were going to help me throw my mom a party. Then there is the part about money; I had none, I lived in Florida, and had a toddler. HELLO, Earth to mother! Plus one of those girls were older than me and the other was closer to my age and they were LOCAL. 

What was I suppose to do? I was struggling to feed the dog my dad bought me, the kid I was raising, and was in the red every single month. She laid that guilt n heavy and thick. When I got angry she told my dad bullshit and he called me to tell me to be nice to my mother, blah blah blah. I heard it before. I was now the bad guy from looney Larry's outburst that she conveniently made sure was done in private. This was my childhood, by the way. It only got worse when I moved away. She saved up her daily snide remarks for cruel emails and hateful phone calls from work where my dad couldn't hear or see what she said. She would then print my angry reply to show him how cruel I was.

I digress, sorry, anyhow I was thinking about this today. I think I'm angry with her. I seriously angry. She was an evil bitch that played the sweet loving part. She laughed all the time and was simple a vile evil mouthed woman that preyed on my happiness. 

I knew she was dying even before she got sick. I told my husband this because she kept asking me if I thought she was a good mother. Guilt of her terrible controlling and manipulating ways were haunting her. I would get off the phone reassuring her she was a good mom and look and my husband and say, "she is dying and trying to make amends for being such an ass." 

I tried telling my dad once and I saw it was too painful for him to realize the woman he thought he was married too wasn't what she said she was. He knew I was telling the truth. I could see it in his eyes but he played her part anyways. Now I think it was because he didn't know what to do. 

I not sure how to heal from this but at least from this point on I know I am angry still at my mom.

She played head games with me. She was deceitful. She WAS the brat. She was rude. Up until her last breath she never once said sorry, never once told us she was dying, she never once told up she had emphysema. She even got mad at me because I would bring her cookies and chocolate to a raging diabetic in the hospital. This was when they were trying to get her better. She wanted to go and she went down in a  full spectacular show. It was terrible and I was alone to see. I alone keep the secret from my dad what she was really like. Again I'm left with the thoughts, "how dare you!"  

   

Big surprise...

Several months ago Camp Gaea sent out its flyer for the Goddess Gathering. It's a male free environment. All heavy lifting and "manly" work completed by strong manly women. It's a safe place to let your boobs down and your hair to stick up. Women forgo the makeup and niceties that society expect from us. It is a wonderful experience when shared with friends. 

My friend got her flyer. For months I've heard how we are going. " buy your ticket, we are going." She even told me she invited some more people and they were excited. Then she asked if I bought my ticket and I said no. She told me not to she was paying for me because I paid for me last time. 

My husband asked if I had signed up. I said no. He thought I was crazy not to. We are talking about married women with commitment issues. I was not going to buy a ticket until the day I got there. 

Couple days ago she lets me know she has to cancel. Her husband booked a hotel for the same weekend for their anniversary. Her anniversary is a couple weeks before mine which is August 21. Their trip is the third week in September. 

I knew it. I knew she would back out. She has yet went on a field trip we had planned or come to a gathering I have planned. She always finds a way out unless you beg and cajole. I am done playing those games with people. I want fun people that are committed to their word. I can understand issues come up but that was not an issue. That was rude. 

Hair cut

Yesterday I got my hair cut short. Really short. My friend said she has never seen my hair this short. I reminded her I Shaved my head after my mother died 2 years ago. I went from middle of my back hair to none. She said she didn't remember that. 

My husband gets home from work and says he hasn't seen my hair this short since he was in the Navy. What? He hasn't been in the navy for over a decade. In that time I've had my hair short, very short, several times. I then reminded him of me shaving it after my mom died. It was the most surreal moment. It's like I walked into the twilight zone. No one seems to remember me with short hair. 

Did I fall out of this dimension only to fall back in place with a different memory of a different time line? 

I sometimes feel completely invisible. The hair cut they don't remember just clenched it. 

 

Girls night never

My husband is going on a trip here soon with other folks for a getaway. I keep forgetting the date and he said I had a mental block about it. I said of course I did because I need a getaway too. He told me to go have one. I then went though the same spiel again as I always do. I told him I really only have two friends I can ask these days. One is broke and bitchy and the other always has to bring her kids and can't stay long because her husband's life is so much more important than hers. 

My husband told me to go out and find new people. He said something about going out and meeting people and change my life, blah, blah, blah. Easy for him to say. It's different for men. Men can get away. Women can't or won't. I knew women that their husband were fine with getaway trips and they wouldn't do it because they needed to spend time with their husbands; like watching the news or something lame like that. Other women can't go because the man makes such a fuss they decide keeping the peace is more important at that moment in their lives. Not all men are as liberal and undemanding as my husband. For some reason he can't seem to understand that. We go over this a lot. 

The other issue is that I meet women that would go do these things and I don't like them enough to go away for a weekend with them. You can't make relationships click. They either do or don't. The next issue is money. Many women simply can't afford it or husbands don't let them have the money. 

I so badly want to go on a getaway. It's not from a lack of trying. Hell, I strike up conversations with strangers in the grocery store.* It's not like I don't attempt to make connections. I just find it really difficult being a woman and doing so. It seems effortless for my husband to make friends and then go away for a weekend year after year. Meanwhile, I trudge along. 

*husband said I should take a grocery store stranger with me

Extended family

I got an instant message from my great aunt this morning. The same ne that said she was going to hide me n Facebook because I curse. She said " hello " and I said "hi" and the next thing she said blew me away. She first went in about her Candy Crush game and how she was only testing to see if chat worked and then said, " because I knew if I didn't screw it up you would answer me." 

I didn't ask for details. I just told her I didn't know what she was talking about because I've never played Candy Crush. It almost felt like she was implying I'm touchy. Maybe? I don't know. Why would you say, " if I didn't screw this up." Does she think I'm that touchy? I've never bit her head off. I've never told her she is wrong. Nothing. I've always been nice to her. Even when she told me I was vulgar and that she didn't like seeing that. I even helped her by telling her how she could hide me so she wouldn't see my posts without de-friending me. I'm always helpful and kind to her. 

Yes, I curse. Yes, I tend to be vulgar. No, this does not mean I'm a vicious satanic mental patient on the edge and angry all the time. I do get angry, yes, but who doesn't? I'm not perfect and I don't pretend to be. I think might be the issue. I don't pretend to be perfect. I don't attend church. I don't watch my Ps and Qs. I curse. End of story. I curse. Clearly I have sinned and must be ignored by my family forever. 

The problem with my family is if I was a man this wouldn't even be an issue. 

I've struggled my whole life with being myself and my family being what they want. My mom did her best to shield me from their disapproval but she is not here and I am adult now. My mother never told me I shouldn't be me. She encouraged it. She told me the story of how in church she was deemed a slut because of her clothing. She was told to dress like SoinSo, more lady like and proper. My mother, the virgin, was judged on her clothing and it colored her opinion of church people after that. What happened to old SoinSo? Oh, she ended up an unwed teenage mother. That story has stuck with me always. I think of it every time someone wants to tell me to be proper. " fuck you and your proper behavior." Our country was not founded on proper behavior. 

I wouldn't say I'm a rebel. I don't act a certain way to get attention. I just want to be accepted for being me. It's that simple. I'm not going to change because you dislike my style. 

Perhaps I'm reading something that is not there in what my aunt said but all I know is that since my mother died the family has dropped me like a hot potato. I've even sent emails and get zero reply. Imagine what would happen if I said, "I'm gay and my partner is black!" 

 

Sleeping arrangements

It's 4am and my husband is next to me snoring. He ate something garlicky and his breath has been giving me a headache all night. It is at these moments I long for my own room and my own bed. Every night I beg him to turn the other way because he snore ore n his left side, plus the sound is closer to my ears.

My nightly ritual is my silent hell. 

Now I wait to get sleepy again. Which is usually after he goes to work. He wonders why I sleep in some mornings. Well....

It sounds so hateful to say, "because your breath was making me sick and your snores kept me awake. I finally got a deep rem sleep with you at work." 

Waiting for sleep

dyslexic?

I've been reading(bout dyslexia lately. See, many years ago I listened to my mother in law about how everyone was dyslexic and until you learned how to read you remained dyslexic. I've since realized she was wrong. So very wrong. Problem is I can't get my husband to stop the belief that was placed in his mind by his mother. This doesn't help the situation I'm in.

It's taken almost 20 years after highschool to realize I'm not like others. I struggle with regular life. I can't get a job. I can't fill out the application well enough. I don't have the degree, I dint have the degree because I can't handle the stress. I can't handle the stress because I can't keep up. I can't keep up because I either dint understand it or I'm so slow. I get distracted, etc...

Tonight I looked up dyslexia symptoms in adults.holy smokes I hit several in every freaking category. It's no wonder people don't think I'm intelligent enough to wait tables our answer the phone. Sigh.

These were some of the red flags that came up the plague me daily.

Mixing sequences ( I mix up phone numbers and addresses all the time)
Trouble telling time on analog clocks (ok, it's out, I can't tell time unless I sit with the clock a very long time and out works better if I can touch it. Wall clocks are so so so hard)
Trouble pronouncing words. (Think Elmer Fudd...I skip words  that I have trouble with and use easier words. This is why writing is best for me)
Writing is best for me but I scratch pour thoughts and my paper looks like a mess within a couple minutes I also forget words. I'm thinking them but they don't appear. When I read it back I read as if the missing words are there. I don't notice they are missing.  my other issue is the fact I write what I hear and forget my own thoughts. I need complete silence.

There were others. I hit several in each category.
I felt very sad looking down at that list. I had no idea dyslexia was so extensive.

I don't feel dumb. I am in shock. I feel helpless. It makes since though.

The question is "now what?" I still study grammar and teach it to my kids but I can't retain no more than a quarter of it. :-\
I can teach how to tell time but I can't do it myself.
I can't take down a phone number or money amount because I would get it wrong.

I really don't know what to do. :-(

Livin' la vida loca

Lately I've been extremely busy.  Float trips, never ending sleepovers, daily pool trips, constant trips to here and there and everywhere. Visiting family, keeping up with regularly scheduled plans, etc... My house resembles a frat house. A box of glass that hasn't made its way to the purple recycle bin, nieces with squeals and screams, ruckus and mayhem from water balloons, air ballon popping, finger snaps, and fireworks. Food running out, money running, sanity running out; I'm just flowing along and realized I wasn't enjoying myself I was just numbing and carrying on. It's stressful not able to find your counters, all the dishes and towels are dirty, the jar of peanut butter is half gone within 3 hours of purchase... It's enough to go completely bonkers. I've not done that. I'm chillin' and relaxin' and running and functioning and I don't know how. 

I was looking forward to the weekend to relax. Nieces have gone back to grandmas, my sons friend will be back with his family, and then my husband says, " let's go camping."  Oh! for crying out loud! 

That is still up in the air. What I want to do it relax and paint and do some crochet for the hell of it. 

Only time will tell what  we are going to do. 

Motherhood

Right after the adoption failed with Flint and soon after my mom got sick and died I was thankful I was thankful I didn't have the stress of taking care of a baby during that. I was depressed and angry. It was an ugly time. My kids struggled, I struggled, it was extreme emotional suffering. Two major blows just did me in. 

Fast forward 2 yrs later and I would like to adopt again. I'm not ready to give up motherhood just yet. I like it. I know that is not "in" right now, but it's a calling I love. Plus, I'm having a terrible time imagining what I'm going to do with myself being so young and childless when in only 7 years my "baby"  will be 18. I will be only 45. My family thinks you are too old at 40 for living. My mom use to say it was all down hill after 40. She was all about being old, feeling old, and looking old. My dad is the same about people being too old. In the homeschool group we belong to there are several families that have children my children's ages and they are the age of my folks. 

My husband was raised in a family that children are a burden. My mother in law blatantly stated a few weeks ago, "I did my time." Like it was a prison sentence. In all her pictures of that time period she looks miserable. The new generation looks the same. Having children in that family is something you have to do not enjoy. 

I enjoy it. Little kids keep me young. You go places, you see things, you stay active. My mother in law goes no where, plays boring old board games every night, and she's been doing this for 20 freaking years. Yikes! I'm not ready for boring solitude. 

Problem? My husband has moved on in the notion of having more. He has grand ideas we will travel around in an RV. Uh, I can foresee the future and I look bored. Especially with someone that doesn't talk and falls asleep at the wheel unless he is listening to a book. 

Now I sit and pine for something I'm not going to get and try to move on from my dreams of motherhood and look into what else I can do.

Reading and thinking

The other night I went to a kirtan. Most kirtans include a reading from the Gita. I've heard so many stories from the Gita I want to cry when they start in again about it. For those of you that don't know what I'm talking about here is a crash course. Kirtan is a call and response chanting of the holy names.  The Gita is a abbreviation for Bhagavad Gita, the Vedic religious text. The entire book is actually a chapter out of a much larger book called the Mahabharata. When I go to Kirtans I feel so happy ( be forewarned not all kirtan groups are great) I can bliss out because I don't know Sanskrit and therefore I can let the sounds not stick. It's a verbal meditation with a pleasant rhythmic beat. I love it. I crave it. It is my favorite pastime. My only dislike is the Gita class that usually tags along. It's like a Bible class if you are Christian. I tend to zone out and sometimes get up and leave for an extended bathroom break. 

The other night I went to a kirtan from a traveling kirtan band. A husband and wife duo called Prema Hara. During the kirtan they stopped for a break and broke out a book. My husband squirmed because he hates the reading more than I do. I noticed the book was not the Gita and relaxed a bit because now I was curious. She read from a book that described a meeting between Mother Theresa and a Jewish American young man in Calcutta, India. As I listened I said to My husband, " I want that book." 

To my amazement the couple had a little store available that included that book. To help support their travels I bought the book from them. I've been reading it ever since; The Journey Home, Autobiography of an American Swami by Radhanath Swami. 

I'm reading the book now and I'm struck with how angry, cynical, and belligerent I've been since my mom has passed 2 yrs ago this week. I was angry at doctors, I was angry with her, angry with my family, and angry I felt so alone. On top of it all I quit believing in the God I was raised with and my mom believed in. I still do not have that belief. I don't think I will ever get it back. 

I'm noticing, though, while reading this book that I'm now open minded enough to let him have his idea about God and read his stories and not feel the need to be angry and cynical. Ok, I'm still a bit cynical, but I'm better. Trust me. 

I had no idea, could not fathom, how deep my anger went. I felt completely sucked into a vortex of heart aching hate. My complete being was saturated with the ick. 

I'm really enjoying this story. The twists and turns this young man took to find his spiritual practice. I can relate to the struggle he writes about. The depth of pain and unknowing and feeling lost with a world full of people. So it is to be human....

...read the book. 

Family secrets

If you know me you know me to be shockingly white. Meaning; my Latino friends laugh about how my skin glows like a beacon light in a dark starry night and that is with a tan. I don't notice my whiteness until I'm with darker friends. With that aside, I always felt out of place growing up. My lips were fuller, my hips and bum were fuller, and my thick wavy/curly hair had very kinky black hairs weaved throughout my head and still do to this day. I was raised with red heads, blondes, very thin lipped, and no butt people. I use to question my folks if I was adopted. My mom would laugh and say no and ask why I thought that when I was born red headed like my dad. Yes, my dad once was red headed and not snow covered. He was also the only white man I knew that could fluff his hair into an Afro and his hair never looked wet after showering or swimming. I just always wondered....

Then a few days ago my cousin, which I've never met, posted a picture on Facebook that one of my grandfather's brothers took. My grandfather is in the front row between the dark kid and the two girls wearing overalls. I knew that was grandpa before asking my aunt because it looked like my dad. 

What's the big deal about this photo? Well, that dark kid is not a neighbor kid. That is my grandpa's baby brother. In fact, most in the photo are blood relations, except for the two blonde and light brown young ladies behind my grandpa. Those are wives of his brothers, Bob and Basil. Basil's wife is holding a mason jar while Basil tAkes the picture of his family. Great grandma holds a young squirming child in her arms and great grandpa holds a rifle. 

When I saw the dark kid and the not so white looking features on the rest of the clan I wondered if someone wasn't telling me something important about my heritage. I texted my aunt and she told me what she knew, which was not much because my own grandpa did not know a damn thing about his own mother. It seems she is a mystery woman. I was told she was very dark with thick coarse hair and piercing blue eyes. Each one of their children were a surprise. One was red head, dark skin, and green eyes. Blondes, brunettes, brown eyes, blue eyes,pale skin, dark skin, etc... But that one in the front took them all by surprise. He was black eyed, dark dark skin, and tight curly hair. I always heard stories about the "dark ones" that looked "Mexican" but I never actually saw a picture. That, my friend, is no Mexican. Speculation from my aunt was it might be Jewish heritage because great grandma had a big nose. Lots of ethnic groups have large noses. It seems more plausible that grandma was "passing white" and DNA had a little surprise up its sleeve. 

My aunt summed up what everybody else seems to skirt around when you bring up the fact we might be mixed is, " I don't know if I want to know."

I do want to know. I think it's wrong to ignore our heritage, even if we find unpleasantness. I would like to honor my great grandmother. I now know I was not adopted and I'm not the only one with the kinky black hairs interwoven on my scalp. I'm not a pure blood. I'm a mutt. I'm the melting pot. 

**Picture circa depression era...grandpa was old enough to be in the Battle of the Bulge during WWII and he looks to be around 10 to 12 here.

Captains log

Day 3:

I think the native is getting suspicious. I think he has realized I'm planning on eating him for the grand feast. He has implemented a program, within his own clan, to get his people to woo me in hopes I will weaken and pardon him. I will play along for the moment.

2 yrs

This month marks 2 yrs since my mother died. I'm not here to honor my mother so much as to point out the changes and lack thereof. 

My father stills has her voice on the answering machine and her pills and scooter in the basement of his home. He hasn't attempt to date nor suggested he would like to. He is just existing. 

My youngest is starting to come around, finally. It seemed to hit him the hardest. He needed lots of time to process it all. The other two children have bounced pretty well. My oldest has mentioned a few times the discomfort of grandma dying in the living room. My middle child seemed to get over it the fastest. He had me hold him and comfort him over the several weeks after it happened. I think breaking his collar bone helped shift his focus away from grief to healing himself. 

My extended family has suffered the most. We are not invited to ANY family functions. No birthdays, not Christmas, Easter, nothing. My aunt, my moms only sibling, in two years has not accepted my friends request on FB. I have left messages for them and received none back. The ones that friended me no longer acknowledge me. Only my grandmas sister does from time to time but she did tell me she is hiding me because she doesn't like how I sometimes curse or post memes with curse words. 

This is on the heels of the fact my cousin, on my dad's side, de-friended me because she didn't like my non-Christian posts. She even kicked off my kids, as well, because they post non-Christian memes and ideas. She left my husband only because she doesn't know what he likes or believes because he doesn't post anything. I didn't like what she posted either but I just hid her. 

My friends have pretty much disbanded. One was callous about my mothers death and said when my dad was ready to call her. Since then those friends attached to her have disappeared. My other network of friends fell apart when one divorced her husband and half of the women would not talk to her anymore. They have since made peace but we never do anything together anymore. 

My mother in law was my support for years but since my mom died she is rarely around. I use to speak with her once a day but now I might speak with her once a week and it is now through text and over within 2 or 3 texts. She even admitted she felt bad she wasn't there for me when my mom died. 

I've had zero lean on support within my typical group(s). I've had one person, D.A., to talk to a few through  FB about all this. His mother died several yrs ago and we had a common bond in pain and loss. I've had to do most of this completely on my own. I've navigated these hellish waters with a dim flashlight and a torn faded map. Somehow, I've made it to the shore safely. 

In all this I realized that people can't handle uncomfortable situations. No one wanted to hear about how I lost Flint. No one wanted to see me suffer because my mom died. No one asked if I needed help. No one can handle the truth and in doing so they are not good friends to have. 

I'm not bitter. I'm saddened that my family disowned me, in a flash, with my mother out of the way and my friends couldn't even be there for me. 

I'm looking for deeper connections these days. Sadly, my deepest connection is in California. It's hard to have a night out with your friends when they are so far away. 

My other change has been spiritual. I should say lack of spirituality. I've noticed I'm extremely cynical these days. I'm not an atheist but I don't believe in "god." This is what got me in trouble with a few family members. Being a gay supporter was another (I'll get to that later.) I have a hard time thinking one being that is unseen has so much control and so little compassion. I do believe in a more quantum physics belief that we all have control. Our thoughts and desires manifest, knowingly or unknowingly. I believe we are more god like than most people realize. This belief I've formed has made me change my ideas about religion, dogma, etc. I think all religion should be thrown out and discarded. This has made me very unpopular with my Baptist family. Not to mention when I do hang out with religious folks they are Hindu. Did I mention that most of my family is extremely racist? 

It's not that I miss them. It's the fact they are so cold and unloving. Not that I should be surprised. They were only nice to me, sort of, because my mom was alive. With both grandmothers and my mother gone I'm just a nuisance. A spider in the shoe. 

On a good note, in these two yrs I've started going to yoga school and now also learning herbs. Looking for an herb school as well. I started Buddhist college and quit. I was pissed off too much and decided it was not a path I wanted to travel. I got my Buddhist name, which sucks, and have since quit. 

 I even started painting in acrylics. I have had so much fun with them over the past two years. 

Life is getting better. It was rough going it alone but I'm stronger for it. It is sad to lose friends and family but now I can concentrate on finding new ones. 

I'm extremely thankful to my husband. He was there when I burst into tears because I couldn't find a sock, aka "I'm so depressed this lost sock was the last straw." He would lie there holding me as I gushed floods of tears and snot. He was and is pure love expressed in human form called Sam. 

It was a terrible ordeal and I know someday I will have to deal with the death of my father. I just hope he waits a long long long time. I need a break from misery!

Mom, I miss you. I miss our talks. The kids miss you and dad misses you. Thank you for helping me become a strong woman. I love you, forever. 

PS....you made it this long? You deserve an award. Thank you.