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Sunday, December 25, 2011

Christmas Is

... the spirit of love that surrounds us and touches us with its greatness. It's the kindness and unselfishness of giving. It's not about gifts wrapped in pretty paper, but the heart that's put into our actions. It's the celebration of life. It's opening our heart up to the miracles that happen everyday. It's about the birth of a child.

... And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. ~ Luke 2:10-11

Merry Christmas.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Monday, December 19, 2011

Make It Go Away

Not an easy subject to write about: I want some things to go away. The emotional stressors of life are piling up on me and have been for months. Gotta do this, gotta be there. It's enough to make one want to find a convient hole in the ground and crawl into it. I've been asked for my opinion on things and then had insults and lies hurled at me when I was honest. When I cry, I am weak. If I am caught taking my daily medication, I am worthless. Why does it have to be this way?

I have been too sick to eat much over the past month. Too sick to do much of anything other than lie in bed and watch TV. All that lethargy caused me to get a blood clot. That clot put me in the hospital for a week and made me fret over whether or not I was going to miss Christmas and the tree trimmings with my family. Life is being particularly shitty to me right now, and when I try to lean on others, they back away. Fucking fair weather assholes.

I wish there were a quick fix for post-traumatic stress disorder, and the psychological trauma that I have endured. The fear that I have had to deal with on a daily basis for the past decade has done a toll on me. There are no easy answers for the reason I am broken. There are no quick fixes to soothe my soul and heal my heart. All that is left is the option to live, and I have taken that option, and I am happy with it. Others, however, are not so happy that I am where I am in life. They are the aggressors of the fear that eats away at me on a daily basis. They are the antagonists that cause my self-medication so I won't care what they do or say. If I don't care, I don't react, and they don't know if they've gotten to me.

It will all be better soon. I just know it.
Not an easy subject to write about: I want some things to go away. The emotional stressors of life are piling up on me and have been for months. Gotta do this, gotta be there. It's enough to make one want to find a convient hole in the ground and crawl into it. I've been asked for my opinion on things and then had insults and lies hurled at me when I was honest. When I cry, I am weak. If I am caught taking my daily medication, I am worthless. Why does it have to be this way?

I have been too sick to eat much over the past month. Too sick to do much of anything other than lie in bed and watch TV. All that lethargy caused me to get a blood clot. That clot put me in the hospital for a week and made me fret over whether or not I was going to miss Christmas and the tree trimmings with my family. Life is being particularly shitty to me right now, and when I try to lean on others, they back away. Fucking fair weather assholes.

I wish there were a quick fix for post-traumatic stress disorder, and the psychological trauma that I have endured. The fear that I have had to deal with on a daily basis for the past decade has done a toll on me. There are no easy answers for the reason I am broken. There are no quick fixes to soothe my soul and heal my heart. All that is left is the option to live, and I have taken that option, and I am happy with it. Others, however, are not so happy that I am where I am in life. They are the aggressors of the fear that eats away at me on a daily basis. They are the antagonists that cause my self-medication so I won't care what they do or say. If I don't care, I don't react, and they don't know if they've gotten to me.

It will all be better soon. I just know it.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Depression


Over the past month or so, I have had some pretty sad bouts of depression. It was caused from learning that my cancer has spread to my bones. Essentially, the bone marrow transplant I underwent this past spring was basically a waste of my time. To save my feelings, my doctor didn't give me a "prognosis time limit", but he told my husband something, and it must have been pretty bad because suddenly I got an iPhone 4S, a new HD camera, and I was allowed to use the credit card again. Oh, and we upgraded our cable service. So what the hell is going on?

All of that stacked up against me, I have been put on Cymbalta. Great for keeping me asleep, unmotivated from writing on the web, and in my personal journal, and for keeping me from eating too much, but I am still sad. The pain is still there. The crying still happens. I try to keep the smile on my face. I try not to recall the horrible dreams that plague me all night long, and wake me every so often and I have to double up on Ambiene. I try to go to work and be a happy, helpful person. I even tried to smile in the court room last week.

It didn't make me feel any better. That's because this sadness is not from a chemical imbalance, but from trauma. Simple sadness that will go away when it's ready, not when some pill tells it it is time to go.

We were supposed to get the first snow fall of the season today. Now the weather man is saying no. How appropriate.

Over the past month or so, I have had some pretty sad bouts of depression. It was caused from learning that my cancer has spread to my bones. Essentially, the bone marrow transplant I underwent this past spring was basically a waste of my time. To save my feelings, my doctor didn't give me a "prognosis time limit", but he told my husband something, and it must have been pretty bad because suddenly I got an iPhone 4S, a new HD camera, and I was allowed to use the credit card again. Oh, and we upgraded our cable service. So what the hell is going on?

All of that stacked up against me, I have been put on Cymbalta. Great for keeping me asleep, unmotivated from writing on the web, and in my personal journal, and for keeping me from eating too much, but I am still sad. The pain is still there. The crying still happens. I try to keep the smile on my face. I try not to recall the horrible dreams that plague me all night long, and wake me every so often and I have to double up on Ambiene. I try to go to work and be a happy, helpful person. I even tried to smile in the court room last week.

It didn't make me feel any better. That's because this sadness is not from a chemical imbalance, but from trauma. Simple sadness that will go away when it's ready, not when some pill tells it it is time to go.

We were supposed to get the first snow fall of the season today. Now the weather man is saying no. How appropriate.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Court

Something that I have not gone into great detail on my other blog is that I am going to be in court on Wednesday. I don't like to think about it. Alternately, I don't like to think that it's the holiday season without Billy whining that his "love" is ruining Christmas for the family. Nothing seems real anymore. That's the effect changes does on me. I don't feel that I am in familiar surroundings when changes are this great.

Happy belated Thanksgiving.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Dead on Vacation

A few days ago (has it been a week or more already?!), my loving husband is back from his road trip. But his "career" has first priority, and tonight we find ourselves in New Orleans, Louisiana for the next nine days to celebrate our anniversary and our boys' fourth birthday. Are they really four years old already?! Damn, I want them to stay babies forever. :( I'm weird like that.

Husband is off with his friends and I am in the hotel. It's not all that bad, I can watch TV for the rest of the night, and unlike my aunt's house in Baton Rouge, there is cable here, and on the cable are Halloween specials all month long, plus some programs about drug addiction. I got a good contact high just watching a program about marijuana. :p

Chloe is crashed on the bed and the boys are crashed on the floor, beside the dog. It's wonderful to get away from my mother for a few days, and while I am here I will be getting some medical attention, but I wonder what is in store for me when Husband goes back on the road? We have to make some changes at home, and I'm not sure about what we're going to do.

Tomorrow is my little sister's birthday. She died in 2003. I miss her more and more every day, and there's that unfortunate twinge of envy that flows through me when I know that she never had to deal with my mother.

Husband tells me that I should have snuck out to see a doctor. What the hell...? 31 years old and I have to sneak around? It's not as if I'm a 15 year old high school student. Although, that would be pretty hot... me sneaking out at the age of fifteen to see a doctor .... for a date! But I stayed home. My left toe is permanently bruised on the end. The toe nail is pitch black as well. I can just hear my scatter brained doctor tell me that my toe needs to be removed. I don't think it's quite that bad, but, well, my doctor is that bad.

Walking Dead is on. I've been advised to watch it, so that is what I am going to do. The odd thing is that I have never heard of this show until today, and suddenly as I'm digging through my friends-lists, everyone is recommending that I watch it because they are watching it themselves. That means it's good, right? :) Anything to take my mind off the fat that I am spending the first day of vacation alone in a hotel room with three kids and a dog, while my better half is off with his friends. It may take the focus off of the fact that I am dead inside and craving the out-of-area doctor appointment looming this week so I can get a decent prescription.
A few days ago (has it been a week or more already?!), my loving husband is back from his road trip. But his "career" has first priority, and tonight we find ourselves in New Orleans, Louisiana for the next nine days to celebrate our anniversary and our boys' fourth birthday. Are they really four years old already?! Damn, I want them to stay babies forever. :( I'm weird like that.

Husband is off with his friends and I am in the hotel. It's not all that bad, I can watch TV for the rest of the night, and unlike my aunt's house in Baton Rouge, there is cable here, and on the cable are Halloween specials all month long, plus some programs about drug addiction. I got a good contact high just watching a program about marijuana. :p

Chloe is crashed on the bed and the boys are crashed on the floor, beside the dog. It's wonderful to get away from my mother for a few days, and while I am here I will be getting some medical attention, but I wonder what is in store for me when Husband goes back on the road? We have to make some changes at home, and I'm not sure about what we're going to do.

Tomorrow is my little sister's birthday. She died in 2003. I miss her more and more every day, and there's that unfortunate twinge of envy that flows through me when I know that she never had to deal with my mother.

Husband tells me that I should have snuck out to see a doctor. What the hell...? 31 years old and I have to sneak around? It's not as if I'm a 15 year old high school student. Although, that would be pretty hot... me sneaking out at the age of fifteen to see a doctor .... for a date! But I stayed home. My left toe is permanently bruised on the end. The toe nail is pitch black as well. I can just hear my scatter brained doctor tell me that my toe needs to be removed. I don't think it's quite that bad, but, well, my doctor is that bad.

Walking Dead is on. I've been advised to watch it, so that is what I am going to do. The odd thing is that I have never heard of this show until today, and suddenly as I'm digging through my friends-lists, everyone is recommending that I watch it because they are watching it themselves. That means it's good, right? :) Anything to take my mind off the fat that I am spending the first day of vacation alone in a hotel room with three kids and a dog, while my better half is off with his friends. It may take the focus off of the fact that I am dead inside and craving the out-of-area doctor appointment looming this week so I can get a decent prescription.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Fight Dogs, I'm For Ya

Last week I broke my left big toe.

It was painful, and I cried much after the fact.

I asked, nay, begged, to be allowed to get medical attention, only to be told that if I did, I should expect my things to be destroyed and new locks on the doors (to my own house, nevertheless!), and I would be arrested for "trespassing".  What the fuck...?

This lovely news was brought to me by my mother who has been living with us for over a year now. What started out as an "I need a place to stay for the weekend" has turned into a thirteen month nightmare with me as the catalyst. My mother dislikes me. Down right hates me. I've known that for twenty-six years, and that is not what bothers me. What bothers me is how well she has everyone else convinced that I am the Ultimate Evil and how she is the innocent victim.

It also bothers me that my brother in law is back to screwing around with his ex, who abused the ever loving shit out of this entire dysfunctional family for eight years and how he did nothing to stop it. She's back, with him in her clutches, and there's nothing I can do but cut him loose. When I found this out as I was being wheeled down to radiology, I slammed on the breaks of the wheelchair and demanded that he go back and get me a nurse or orderly to take me the rest of the way to radiology. Fuck that shit. I wasn't going to have some one who was as stupid as him take me anywhere.

The sob story came much, much later, when he was telling me this afternoon how his ex has not contacted him since Monday, when she begged a few grand out of him. "And you sent it to her, right?" I asked. He didn't answer that, so I can only feel that he really did give her the money. That's all he is to her, money bags. Rich Idiot, if you will. I promptly told him not to contact me anymore. I don't need that shit in my life at this time.

Upon glancing at his blog, he's in a sexual relationship with someone named Amanda. I wonder if this is his plot to try to say that my friend Mandy is sleeping with him, so I should trust him. Sorry, dude. That doesn't work for me.

I am tempted to move my brother in law in with my mother and let them kill each other. Hey, it's a thought!

There are many thoughts swimming through my mind right now. None that is worthy of being written down, though.
Last week I broke my left big toe.

It was painful, and I cried much after the fact.

I asked, nay, begged, to be allowed to get medical attention, only to be told that if I did, I should expect my things to be destroyed and new locks on the doors (to my own house, nevertheless!), and I would be arrested for "trespassing".  What the fuck...?

This lovely news was brought to me by my mother who has been living with us for over a year now. What started out as an "I need a place to stay for the weekend" has turned into a thirteen month nightmare with me as the catalyst. My mother dislikes me. Down right hates me. I've known that for twenty-six years, and that is not what bothers me. What bothers me is how well she has everyone else convinced that I am the Ultimate Evil and how she is the innocent victim.

It also bothers me that my brother in law is back to screwing around with his ex, who abused the ever loving shit out of this entire dysfunctional family for eight years and how he did nothing to stop it. She's back, with him in her clutches, and there's nothing I can do but cut him loose. When I found this out as I was being wheeled down to radiology, I slammed on the breaks of the wheelchair and demanded that he go back and get me a nurse or orderly to take me the rest of the way to radiology. Fuck that shit. I wasn't going to have some one who was as stupid as him take me anywhere.

The sob story came much, much later, when he was telling me this afternoon how his ex has not contacted him since Monday, when she begged a few grand out of him. "And you sent it to her, right?" I asked. He didn't answer that, so I can only feel that he really did give her the money. That's all he is to her, money bags. Rich Idiot, if you will. I promptly told him not to contact me anymore. I don't need that shit in my life at this time.

Upon glancing at his blog, he's in a sexual relationship with someone named Amanda. I wonder if this is his plot to try to say that my friend Mandy is sleeping with him, so I should trust him. Sorry, dude. That doesn't work for me.

I am tempted to move my brother in law in with my mother and let them kill each other. Hey, it's a thought!

There are many thoughts swimming through my mind right now. None that is worthy of being written down, though.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

It's Been Done

I am having some thoughts about this place. About my place in the world. Writing is a chore now. I do it because I feel that I should, not because I actually enjoy doing it. I write to please others. I write out of habit. Before I used to write because I got something out of it. Yes, that's selfish, but it's the only way I can fo it honestly, damnit. I feel that it is the only way artists can do anything good; if it's secretly selfishly for them and them alone. Think about it. How many #1 hit songs overflow the charts every year that are written/intended for the fans? None. It's always about love, lost or new, and the authors.

This whole "writing for a crowd" was good for me. I could express all that was on my mind, and people really enjoyed reading it. I enjoyed sharing. I enjoyed the sport, the art, of writing. Now I look at my paper on what I need to cover, just to be on top of things.

My life is not that particularly interesting. I will probably never have a movie or a novel made about my life, unless I write the book or I make the movie. I share a life that is identical to every other person in the world. Struggles, a family, life. What have I done that thousands or millions before me haven't already done? Millions after me will do the same things. The same is true with my thoughts. Others will have these same thoughts on the world. There's nothing unique about me.

I would be kidding myself if I said that I thought I had a unique outlook on life, because I have been dealt a bad hand, but I know that I do not. I do not want to become another cookie-cutter ex-addict, ex-escort on the web telling their tale of woe. That was one thing that I thought separated me from the others. I have a better outlook on life, not because I was all those things, but because I survived them and had a better outlook on life before, during and after. There was nor has been many things that would turn me bitter. Not even my health crisis afterwards.

In the end, it's all about being done, isn't it?
I am having some thoughts about this place. About my place in the world. Writing is a chore now. I do it because I feel that I should, not because I actually enjoy doing it. I write to please others. I write out of habit. Before I used to write because I got something out of it. Yes, that's selfish, but it's the only way I can fo it honestly, damnit. I feel that it is the only way artists can do anything good; if it's secretly selfishly for them and them alone. Think about it. How many #1 hit songs overflow the charts every year that are written/intended for the fans? None. It's always about love, lost or new, and the authors.

This whole "writing for a crowd" was good for me. I could express all that was on my mind, and people really enjoyed reading it. I enjoyed sharing. I enjoyed the sport, the art, of writing. Now I look at my paper on what I need to cover, just to be on top of things.

My life is not that particularly interesting. I will probably never have a movie or a novel made about my life, unless I write the book or I make the movie. I share a life that is identical to every other person in the world. Struggles, a family, life. What have I done that thousands or millions before me haven't already done? Millions after me will do the same things. The same is true with my thoughts. Others will have these same thoughts on the world. There's nothing unique about me.

I would be kidding myself if I said that I thought I had a unique outlook on life, because I have been dealt a bad hand, but I know that I do not. I do not want to become another cookie-cutter ex-addict, ex-escort on the web telling their tale of woe. That was one thing that I thought separated me from the others. I have a better outlook on life, not because I was all those things, but because I survived them and had a better outlook on life before, during and after. There was nor has been many things that would turn me bitter. Not even my health crisis afterwards.

In the end, it's all about being done, isn't it?

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Decade Later

I was a junior in college when 9/11 happened. I had the day off from studies, and my step-father woke me to herd the family into the bomb shelter he built, in case the country was to be destroyed by terrorists. When I returned to classes, there were TVs all over the school, tuned in to various news sources, should there actually be any war or other emergency. I lost a good friend that day. Someone I had only saw two months prior to the attacks, who had expressed an interest in me, and wanted to make me his wife. I miss him every day. It never gets any easier. I blocked out 9/11 until this past January, when I forced myself to watch videos of the towers crash down. I cried, for the very first time, over 9/11 years after it happened. I have been to the World Trade Towers, both before and after 9/11. Maybe some day I will reflect on those days. But not today. I kept a blog back then, ironically, on Blogspot, and somewhere my entry is floating out there in cyberspace, probably on my neglected, abused and worn out domain. I am going to clean that domain up some day. I don't know when, for sure, but I will get it done. Procrastination is my greatest friend, sometimes. :) I leave you with images from my friend from the 100th floor of one of the towers. He perished where he worked. These images have haunted the web since 2000.
I was a junior in college when 9/11 happened. I had the day off from studies, and my step-father woke me to herd the family into the bomb shelter he built, in case the country was to be destroyed by terrorists. When I returned to classes, there were TVs all over the school, tuned in to various news sources, should there actually be any war or other emergency. I lost a good friend that day. Someone I had only saw two months prior to the attacks, who had expressed an interest in me, and wanted to make me his wife. I miss him every day. It never gets any easier. I blocked out 9/11 until this past January, when I forced myself to watch videos of the towers crash down. I cried, for the very first time, over 9/11 years after it happened. I have been to the World Trade Towers, both before and after 9/11. Maybe some day I will reflect on those days. But not today. I kept a blog back then, ironically, on Blogspot, and somewhere my entry is floating out there in cyberspace, probably on my neglected, abused and worn out domain. I am going to clean that domain up some day. I don't know when, for sure, but I will get it done. Procrastination is my greatest friend, sometimes. :) I leave you with images from my friend from the 100th floor of one of the towers. He perished where he worked. These images have haunted the web since 2000.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Mandy

For someone. She knows who she is. :)

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Surprises

I have been sleepy all day. Exhausted is a better word for it, because I can't fight the sleepiness and I frequently keel over where I can and sleep until someone wakes me up. This past sleep-fest was none other than my phone ringing off the hook. I woke up, jumped out of the bed, knocked the padded rail off the bed, and rushed to my desk just in time to see the lovely "MISSED CALL" slide across my screen. Unlocking the phone, I saw that I had missed several calls today. All from my husband. Frowning, I checked my voice mail, and to my annoyance, he had not left any messages for me. So... he has time to call me several times in the day, but not enough time to leave a voice message for me? How annoying!

I was scrolling through the messages when he called a twelfth time. This time I was able to answer it. He was all excited about something he had picked up in his journeys overseas in England. He told me that it was my anniversary present, which is a little over two months away. But he has a three-day party planned for us, while we work around some of his shows. Three days to celebrate our love that has been legally bonded for five years. Over those five years, there have been many bumps in the road, but our love is strong enough to bend and we have survived any storm that has come our way.

Love is forever; stay with me babe

I hope that what he has for me is not an erection, however. While I am having dreams that end with me performing lesbian sex in some form or another, I am not really interested in having sex right away. My pussy and ass are both still sore from the last romp that I had, and let's face it: The last time that he was soooo excited to "give" me something, it was his penis, and I ended up pregnant with twins! More kids are the last thing we need right about now. Chloe was sick this afternoon and threw up on the kitchen floor. Something else that I had to clean. Yuck. At least she threw up somewhere where there was no carpet or fabric, and she was on her way to the sink, so I give her credit for trying. Hopefully she's getting the feeling of when she's about to throw up and can get to a sink or toilet before she gets too far past the point of no return.

When the kids saw that I was awake, they all demanded that they be fed. So I fixed them some dinner while I mixed my liquid dinner and the dessert of pills. I barely listened to the babble of the kids during the meal, but ushered them to bed before 9pm. I love surprises, but I sometimes wonder why I put up with the things that I put up with in this family. That lesbian lifestyle is starting to look pretty good from here.
I have been sleepy all day. Exhausted is a better word for it, because I can't fight the sleepiness and I frequently keel over where I can and sleep until someone wakes me up. This past sleep-fest was none other than my phone ringing off the hook. I woke up, jumped out of the bed, knocked the padded rail off the bed, and rushed to my desk just in time to see the lovely "MISSED CALL" slide across my screen. Unlocking the phone, I saw that I had missed several calls today. All from my husband. Frowning, I checked my voice mail, and to my annoyance, he had not left any messages for me. So... he has time to call me several times in the day, but not enough time to leave a voice message for me? How annoying!

I was scrolling through the messages when he called a twelfth time. This time I was able to answer it. He was all excited about something he had picked up in his journeys overseas in England. He told me that it was my anniversary present, which is a little over two months away. But he has a three-day party planned for us, while we work around some of his shows. Three days to celebrate our love that has been legally bonded for five years. Over those five years, there have been many bumps in the road, but our love is strong enough to bend and we have survived any storm that has come our way.

Love is forever; stay with me babe

I hope that what he has for me is not an erection, however. While I am having dreams that end with me performing lesbian sex in some form or another, I am not really interested in having sex right away. My pussy and ass are both still sore from the last romp that I had, and let's face it: The last time that he was soooo excited to "give" me something, it was his penis, and I ended up pregnant with twins! More kids are the last thing we need right about now. Chloe was sick this afternoon and threw up on the kitchen floor. Something else that I had to clean. Yuck. At least she threw up somewhere where there was no carpet or fabric, and she was on her way to the sink, so I give her credit for trying. Hopefully she's getting the feeling of when she's about to throw up and can get to a sink or toilet before she gets too far past the point of no return.

When the kids saw that I was awake, they all demanded that they be fed. So I fixed them some dinner while I mixed my liquid dinner and the dessert of pills. I barely listened to the babble of the kids during the meal, but ushered them to bed before 9pm. I love surprises, but I sometimes wonder why I put up with the things that I put up with in this family. That lesbian lifestyle is starting to look pretty good from here.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Only the Broken Hearted

I really wish these stat spammers had their useless sites up their asses. If your product isn't doing so well, don't spam me! I don't care for whatever it is that you're trying to scam others with!

I feel bad, emotionally, today. I wish there were a place I could go to where I didn't feel like I was a pain in the ass of the people I live with. I am just trying to live and survive, and I am referred to as "the pain in the ass". I don't mean to be! I am sick! I am not "taking advantage of" having cancer! If I had a choice, I would choose to not have this disease!

But that is not how I am treated. Right now? I'm still having that double vision, so I can't do anything correctly. I try and try, but with my vision messing up, I really can't do anything other than relax and work on my paper work. I was supposed to start work today, because the professors start some two weeks before the students come back. But no. I had to help out with my mother and she gave me a hard time about that. She then went on to tell me that I needed to give her some money. What? Um, no. I have a small family that I am supporting right now, so I can't help her. When she asked why, I said that I had not gone back to work for the fall, and I had no money. She suggested that I "get off my lazy fat ass" and go job hunting! What the hell...? When I said the only things out there for work was probably Quik Trip or a fast food job, perhaps a job sacking or checking out groceries, she said that was "good enough for me" and I should do it!

IUm... mommie dearest? Perhaps you missed out on the fact that I am doped up because I have cancer?! Did you miss that IV catheter in my arm? What about the medicine patches on my upper arm? Did you forget about the painful bone spurs that have sprouted from my spine? The whole mess upsets me. When I reminded her of all of that, she got pissed off and said that I was "taking advantage of" having cancer. How in the world could I do that?! This is not the first time she has claimed I am taking advantage of this deadly disease. Every time she wants money from me, she tells me how I can work, or should be working. It's really frustrating that I have to put up with these things.

I spent a good amount of time crying over this because my mother is supposed to care about me and be on my side. Not demand money from me, and when I cannot provide that, she claims I am using a deadly disease as an excuse to not get a second or third job to give her money.

I am sorry that I have clouded this blog with my sob story. I hate that I do not have a good relationship with my mother. I wish for almost nothing else in the world, but to be well, live long and into my prime, and to have a good relationship with my mother. I deserve at least those things.

I will write again tomorrow.
I really wish these stat spammers had their useless sites up their asses. If your product isn't doing so well, don't spam me! I don't care for whatever it is that you're trying to scam others with!

I feel bad, emotionally, today. I wish there were a place I could go to where I didn't feel like I was a pain in the ass of the people I live with. I am just trying to live and survive, and I am referred to as "the pain in the ass". I don't mean to be! I am sick! I am not "taking advantage of" having cancer! If I had a choice, I would choose to not have this disease!

But that is not how I am treated. Right now? I'm still having that double vision, so I can't do anything correctly. I try and try, but with my vision messing up, I really can't do anything other than relax and work on my paper work. I was supposed to start work today, because the professors start some two weeks before the students come back. But no. I had to help out with my mother and she gave me a hard time about that. She then went on to tell me that I needed to give her some money. What? Um, no. I have a small family that I am supporting right now, so I can't help her. When she asked why, I said that I had not gone back to work for the fall, and I had no money. She suggested that I "get off my lazy fat ass" and go job hunting! What the hell...? When I said the only things out there for work was probably Quik Trip or a fast food job, perhaps a job sacking or checking out groceries, she said that was "good enough for me" and I should do it!

IUm... mommie dearest? Perhaps you missed out on the fact that I am doped up because I have cancer?! Did you miss that IV catheter in my arm? What about the medicine patches on my upper arm? Did you forget about the painful bone spurs that have sprouted from my spine? The whole mess upsets me. When I reminded her of all of that, she got pissed off and said that I was "taking advantage of" having cancer. How in the world could I do that?! This is not the first time she has claimed I am taking advantage of this deadly disease. Every time she wants money from me, she tells me how I can work, or should be working. It's really frustrating that I have to put up with these things.

I spent a good amount of time crying over this because my mother is supposed to care about me and be on my side. Not demand money from me, and when I cannot provide that, she claims I am using a deadly disease as an excuse to not get a second or third job to give her money.

I am sorry that I have clouded this blog with my sob story. I hate that I do not have a good relationship with my mother. I wish for almost nothing else in the world, but to be well, live long and into my prime, and to have a good relationship with my mother. I deserve at least those things.

I will write again tomorrow.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Sick Day

This nausea is really getting bad. I have been sick to my stomach all day. I salivate, but don't throw up. I have been tired all day. I don't know if this is my nerves or my medicine. I am still on treatment medication. I don't know why. The salivation made my mouth and throat dry and I was expected to talk for a while with my mother, then I started getting double vision and she tried to get me to eat all this nasty food that I can't stand. I felt so bad I finally gave in just to get her to stop "suggesting" things for me to do. Eating isn't the best thing to do when one is nauseated. Especially me. Especially when it's something I cannot stand to eat when I feel fine. But to get her to stop suggesting all these medical quackery home remedies, I caved in. Then spend the next few moments after eating, throwing up. I felt worse. I am fatigued, nauseated, and my eyes are still messed up. I feel like I am in a cold sweat, but the air conditioner is frozen up (what else is new???) and I have some work to do online before I can lay down for a while.

In the mail I got a candle from my friend Matt. A Cider Web by Yankee Candle. I think someone's been reading here again. :) It was kind of weak in the scent department, but that's fine.

While I was looking for a lighter to light the wick, I found some other treasures in my desk. Things I never thought I would see again.

Oral Fixation. An oral sex enhancing mint. I wondered where this went to. There were both male and female enjoyment mints. I tingled a tiny bit just thinking about it.


Dead Batteries. That's the name brand of the batteries. They came with my OhMiBod vibrator back in 2008. The package is unopened, so I have to wonder if the batteries are still good. Again, this made me tingle a tad.


Jones Soda candy. Cream soda flavour. I remember this stuff from when I went to Las Vegas one of the many times and this was all I had to eat at the dinner theater. I wasn't too upset over it. I felt a little bad slipping this in my drink and flirting with Auz. Some of the people there who hadn't seen me slip the candy in my own drink thought I was being drugged. It was kind of funny, and a little worrying, since none of the people who saw I had what appeared to be drugs in my drink yet they didn't tell me about it.


Oh, and before I sign off for a little while, photos of the candle:






Macro without a flash. Better?




Time to go lay down. I'm getting a headache.
This nausea is really getting bad. I have been sick to my stomach all day. I salivate, but don't throw up. I have been tired all day. I don't know if this is my nerves or my medicine. I am still on treatment medication. I don't know why. The salivation made my mouth and throat dry and I was expected to talk for a while with my mother, then I started getting double vision and she tried to get me to eat all this nasty food that I can't stand. I felt so bad I finally gave in just to get her to stop "suggesting" things for me to do. Eating isn't the best thing to do when one is nauseated. Especially me. Especially when it's something I cannot stand to eat when I feel fine. But to get her to stop suggesting all these medical quackery home remedies, I caved in. Then spend the next few moments after eating, throwing up. I felt worse. I am fatigued, nauseated, and my eyes are still messed up. I feel like I am in a cold sweat, but the air conditioner is frozen up (what else is new???) and I have some work to do online before I can lay down for a while.

In the mail I got a candle from my friend Matt. A Cider Web by Yankee Candle. I think someone's been reading here again. :) It was kind of weak in the scent department, but that's fine.

While I was looking for a lighter to light the wick, I found some other treasures in my desk. Things I never thought I would see again.

Oral Fixation. An oral sex enhancing mint. I wondered where this went to. There were both male and female enjoyment mints. I tingled a tiny bit just thinking about it.


Dead Batteries. That's the name brand of the batteries. They came with my OhMiBod vibrator back in 2008. The package is unopened, so I have to wonder if the batteries are still good. Again, this made me tingle a tad.


Jones Soda candy. Cream soda flavour. I remember this stuff from when I went to Las Vegas one of the many times and this was all I had to eat at the dinner theater. I wasn't too upset over it. I felt a little bad slipping this in my drink and flirting with Auz. Some of the people there who hadn't seen me slip the candy in my own drink thought I was being drugged. It was kind of funny, and a little worrying, since none of the people who saw I had what appeared to be drugs in my drink yet they didn't tell me about it.


Oh, and before I sign off for a little while, photos of the candle:






Macro without a flash. Better?




Time to go lay down. I'm getting a headache.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Coconut Flowers

This post is duplicated on my domain.

I first want to apologise for the downtime. I hope it was because my hosts were molesting the server and I am getting a new Plesk install and a control panel. But truth be told it was all that data base tinkering I did yesterday that clogged the server. *hangs head* I always feel like I don't know what I am doing when I play around with computers and servers and the like, and there's a good possibility that is true, when they malfunction the next day. Feel free to get out the ruler and give me a good spanking.

The summer is finally winding down. We had some severe weather last night that went on for almost an hour or so. My air conditioner system was frozen up (typical of triple degree temperatures!), so I sweltered in the hot, dark night, watching Saw 3D and writing a list of things to take to my doctor tomorrow. I also rummaged through some of my stuff looking for the loose ends that I needed to clean up before school starts this fall.

Tonight, Chloe wanted her hair washed and conditioned with the coconut shampoo and conditioner. She also wanted to use the Caress bath wash because she liked how it made momma smell after a bath. I told her she smelled like coconut flowers. That made her night and she skipped away in her pony-print pajamas, holding her pink bear. I am so good at this mommy stuff sometimes!

Little James is sick again. He's not getting out of bed much and complaining about being "warm all over". So it's off to the doctor's with him on Thursday afternoon. I'm afraid he has a bacterial infection somewhere. I've given him some Tylenol for the fever and the pain, but that was a few hours ago. He's back complaining of the pain and warmth again. I'm making him some sweet lemon tea to settle his stomach for now.

Dennis is somewhat ignoring me. He won't answer his phone, and he refuses to call me except at times when he knows that I can't talk on the phone. It really bothers me that he is doing this. I almost have to ask if Trevor is back. It's times like this when I ask God for help, but it has been so long since God has answered me that I sometimes wonder if God has turned His back on me. So many times I have asked for His help with my marriage, He has not answered me, nor has the situation improved any. I know that I am just impatient, but I don't want to think that way anymore. I don't want to think that God has turned his back on me. God doesn't do these things. I am looking for Scripture that has something to do with marriage worries, but I cannot find any. If anyone wants to help point me to some Scriptures that have helped them with relationship worries, I'd appreciate it.

Yes, I know that Google.com exists, but I would feel better to get some live feedback from people that, I assume, have been reading about my situation for the last few years. Ever since our little PoRo died, our marriage hasn't been the same. I sometimes wonder if the relationship was falling apart because she died, or was it falling apart all along and we just didn't know about it?
This post is duplicated on my domain.

I first want to apologise for the downtime. I hope it was because my hosts were molesting the server and I am getting a new Plesk install and a control panel. But truth be told it was all that data base tinkering I did yesterday that clogged the server. *hangs head* I always feel like I don't know what I am doing when I play around with computers and servers and the like, and there's a good possibility that is true, when they malfunction the next day. Feel free to get out the ruler and give me a good spanking.

The summer is finally winding down. We had some severe weather last night that went on for almost an hour or so. My air conditioner system was frozen up (typical of triple degree temperatures!), so I sweltered in the hot, dark night, watching Saw 3D and writing a list of things to take to my doctor tomorrow. I also rummaged through some of my stuff looking for the loose ends that I needed to clean up before school starts this fall.

Tonight, Chloe wanted her hair washed and conditioned with the coconut shampoo and conditioner. She also wanted to use the Caress bath wash because she liked how it made momma smell after a bath. I told her she smelled like coconut flowers. That made her night and she skipped away in her pony-print pajamas, holding her pink bear. I am so good at this mommy stuff sometimes!

Little James is sick again. He's not getting out of bed much and complaining about being "warm all over". So it's off to the doctor's with him on Thursday afternoon. I'm afraid he has a bacterial infection somewhere. I've given him some Tylenol for the fever and the pain, but that was a few hours ago. He's back complaining of the pain and warmth again. I'm making him some sweet lemon tea to settle his stomach for now.

Dennis is somewhat ignoring me. He won't answer his phone, and he refuses to call me except at times when he knows that I can't talk on the phone. It really bothers me that he is doing this. I almost have to ask if Trevor is back. It's times like this when I ask God for help, but it has been so long since God has answered me that I sometimes wonder if God has turned His back on me. So many times I have asked for His help with my marriage, He has not answered me, nor has the situation improved any. I know that I am just impatient, but I don't want to think that way anymore. I don't want to think that God has turned his back on me. God doesn't do these things. I am looking for Scripture that has something to do with marriage worries, but I cannot find any. If anyone wants to help point me to some Scriptures that have helped them with relationship worries, I'd appreciate it.

Yes, I know that Google.com exists, but I would feel better to get some live feedback from people that, I assume, have been reading about my situation for the last few years. Ever since our little PoRo died, our marriage hasn't been the same. I sometimes wonder if the relationship was falling apart because she died, or was it falling apart all along and we just didn't know about it?

Monday, August 8, 2011

Early Jumpstart

To get an early jump-start on the fall seasons, I've ordered some fall-scented candles. I won't say what ones, that's a surprise, but I have ordered a pair of them that I think will smell wonderful together. I have another two that I want to pick up at the store, but only because I love visiting the store.

Is it just me, or has the fall season started earlier and earlier as time goes on? How many people have Halloween candy in their stores already?

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Why Can't We Be Friends?

In the spring of 1994, just days before my cancer-removal surgery, I was approached in middle school by a classmate that I knew vaguely. He was somewhat nice to me, but mostly slung insults at me at every chance he got. I normally ignored him. Until one day when I was sick from my tumors and I wasn't up for his shit. He slung his usual slew of insults at me, and I said these words exactly:
"Shut up, you stupid fuck!"
I began to walk away.
Suddenly, I was hit in the back of the head, hard, and I turned around to see the 15 year old behind me (I was 13 at the time), with his fist doubled up to hit me again. I turned to run, and he grabbed my hair, and pulled me to the ground. Kicking me mercilessly for several seconds, as another of his friends joined in. As I rolled over to get up, his friend was holding me down, encouraging Mr. Violent to do something. All I heard was "do it! I gott'er! DO IT!". Violent's friend's girlfriend had appeared out of nowhere and was also holding me down. Then I saw Violent's hand above me, as if he was going to strike me, I turned away, still struggling, then I felt a burning, throbbing, piercing pain in my side. Looking down, I saw the guy had stabbed me in the side, as his friend and his friend's girlfriend were still holding me down. "You deserve to die, white ho! Who the hell you think you callin' STUPID???" he was screaming at me.

My useless uncle walked up to the mess, and pulled me up, bitching at me for getting out of school late. He pulled me to the car, ignoring the gaping, bleeding hole in my side. Once home, I tried to reach my parents at their work, but I got the same message: "They're working. They can't come to the phone." Oh. Right. Fine. I called 911. I had what appeared to be a smudge of blood on my side. I had been stabbed with a stick or a pen; something pointed and cylinder-shaped. It was a hole, a tiny hole, in my side. Five stitches and a bitching session from my parents when they found out that I was in the hospital and thusly costing them precious money, later, I found out the next day that I was being expelled from the school.

Apparently, I had made a racial slur towards this guy, and that gave him the right to stab me with the closest possible object while two others held me down. In this case, it was a stick, so he hadn't violated the school's rules by bringing a weapon to school. He told the principal that I called him a racial slur, and I tripped and fell on the stick. Bullshit. I saw his hand on it. I saw him holding his hand above me before it happened. I fell on nothing but the pavement. Plus, the stick had been stabbed in the opposite side that I had fallen on. Explain that. I with drew from that school. The girlfriend was suspended. Her boyfriend had run away from home. Mr. Violent returned to class the next day to scout out some other victim to harass mercilessly and then stab and threaten to kill them when they fought back, verbally. Probably another fair skinned, blue eyed girl, two years younger than him and suffering from cancer.

This man single-handedly jumpstarted my downward spiral. He caused my insane, schizo mother to put me in those insane holy-roller schools, where I was emotionally tortured and verbally abused for several months. I became fearful of my life. I became suicidal. I wanted to end my life because my existence had been so damned bad for so long that I could feel nothing other than misery. But it wasn't to end there.

After therapy, drugs, hospitals, and intense love from my husband, I was able to pull out of the mess that was my life for so long. I was able to laugh again. I was softened again. I was able to smile. I was able to enjoy the sunshine. I could smell the beautiful aromas from the flowers again. I could see the rainbows after the storms again. Life was something I wanted to live and experience once more.

Then this afternoon I saw where this man had tried to friend me on Facebook.

His request opened up a whole new world for me. I had some closure, and some new fears.

He moved clear across the country. He was no longer within walking distance of me. He had gone to college. Gotten a Bachelor's in something. He looks perfectly normal for a lying, psychotic, attempted murderer of white girls. Then I saw the part of his profile that made shivers run down my spine. He has a "wife". I assume she is his wife, since there are numerous photos of them together kissing, holding hands, and lounging in bed. He also has a daughter. I fear for these women. Does his wife know who she is with? Does she know his past? Probably not, if they have a daughter together. What made me shudder more was wondering if she knew and it didn't bother her. Many women marry liars, willingly. Many women marry abusers, willingly. But is there a woman out there who marries an attempted murderer? That can't be normal. What if she says the magic word? What if she says "stupid"? Or the little girl? "Stupid" is a common word for children, and it sets that man off completely.

I hope he's gotten help, for his new family's sake. But something tells me that he never got help. It amazes me that he is clean-cut, looks nice, friendly, but I can see something no one else can see. I can see the hatred. I can see it burning in his eyes. He has a lot of hatred in him. It's sad that I am the only one who can see this.

I didn't add him as a friend on Facebook, naturally. I'd have to be insane to do that. My phone number and address are available on there, and the last thing I need is him showing up at my door. He's one of the many people I have forgiven, but not forgotten.
In the spring of 1994, just days before my cancer-removal surgery, I was approached in middle school by a classmate that I knew vaguely. He was somewhat nice to me, but mostly slung insults at me at every chance he got. I normally ignored him. Until one day when I was sick from my tumors and I wasn't up for his shit. He slung his usual slew of insults at me, and I said these words exactly:
"Shut up, you stupid fuck!"
I began to walk away.
Suddenly, I was hit in the back of the head, hard, and I turned around to see the 15 year old behind me (I was 13 at the time), with his fist doubled up to hit me again. I turned to run, and he grabbed my hair, and pulled me to the ground. Kicking me mercilessly for several seconds, as another of his friends joined in. As I rolled over to get up, his friend was holding me down, encouraging Mr. Violent to do something. All I heard was "do it! I gott'er! DO IT!". Violent's friend's girlfriend had appeared out of nowhere and was also holding me down. Then I saw Violent's hand above me, as if he was going to strike me, I turned away, still struggling, then I felt a burning, throbbing, piercing pain in my side. Looking down, I saw the guy had stabbed me in the side, as his friend and his friend's girlfriend were still holding me down. "You deserve to die, white ho! Who the hell you think you callin' STUPID???" he was screaming at me.

My useless uncle walked up to the mess, and pulled me up, bitching at me for getting out of school late. He pulled me to the car, ignoring the gaping, bleeding hole in my side. Once home, I tried to reach my parents at their work, but I got the same message: "They're working. They can't come to the phone." Oh. Right. Fine. I called 911. I had what appeared to be a smudge of blood on my side. I had been stabbed with a stick or a pen; something pointed and cylinder-shaped. It was a hole, a tiny hole, in my side. Five stitches and a bitching session from my parents when they found out that I was in the hospital and thusly costing them precious money, later, I found out the next day that I was being expelled from the school.

Apparently, I had made a racial slur towards this guy, and that gave him the right to stab me with the closest possible object while two others held me down. In this case, it was a stick, so he hadn't violated the school's rules by bringing a weapon to school. He told the principal that I called him a racial slur, and I tripped and fell on the stick. Bullshit. I saw his hand on it. I saw him holding his hand above me before it happened. I fell on nothing but the pavement. Plus, the stick had been stabbed in the opposite side that I had fallen on. Explain that. I with drew from that school. The girlfriend was suspended. Her boyfriend had run away from home. Mr. Violent returned to class the next day to scout out some other victim to harass mercilessly and then stab and threaten to kill them when they fought back, verbally. Probably another fair skinned, blue eyed girl, two years younger than him and suffering from cancer.

This man single-handedly jumpstarted my downward spiral. He caused my insane, schizo mother to put me in those insane holy-roller schools, where I was emotionally tortured and verbally abused for several months. I became fearful of my life. I became suicidal. I wanted to end my life because my existence had been so damned bad for so long that I could feel nothing other than misery. But it wasn't to end there.

After therapy, drugs, hospitals, and intense love from my husband, I was able to pull out of the mess that was my life for so long. I was able to laugh again. I was softened again. I was able to smile. I was able to enjoy the sunshine. I could smell the beautiful aromas from the flowers again. I could see the rainbows after the storms again. Life was something I wanted to live and experience once more.

Then this afternoon I saw where this man had tried to friend me on Facebook.

His request opened up a whole new world for me. I had some closure, and some new fears.

He moved clear across the country. He was no longer within walking distance of me. He had gone to college. Gotten a Bachelor's in something. He looks perfectly normal for a lying, psychotic, attempted murderer of white girls. Then I saw the part of his profile that made shivers run down my spine. He has a "wife". I assume she is his wife, since there are numerous photos of them together kissing, holding hands, and lounging in bed. He also has a daughter. I fear for these women. Does his wife know who she is with? Does she know his past? Probably not, if they have a daughter together. What made me shudder more was wondering if she knew and it didn't bother her. Many women marry liars, willingly. Many women marry abusers, willingly. But is there a woman out there who marries an attempted murderer? That can't be normal. What if she says the magic word? What if she says "stupid"? Or the little girl? "Stupid" is a common word for children, and it sets that man off completely.

I hope he's gotten help, for his new family's sake. But something tells me that he never got help. It amazes me that he is clean-cut, looks nice, friendly, but I can see something no one else can see. I can see the hatred. I can see it burning in his eyes. He has a lot of hatred in him. It's sad that I am the only one who can see this.

I didn't add him as a friend on Facebook, naturally. I'd have to be insane to do that. My phone number and address are available on there, and the last thing I need is him showing up at my door. He's one of the many people I have forgiven, but not forgotten.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Why I Fear Humanity

I often wonder what kind of hits Google gets. I mean, I'd love for them to publish a book of all the outrageous things that people have searched for over the years. The search terms alone would make a book with a thousand pages. Then there'd be the downside. The things people search for that would make us realise that humanity is on its way out. Things such as these terms that just a small portion (1-2 people at max) searched for on Google, and somehow, for some reason were directed to my blog. Enjoy!

belle de jour blog
i feel like i am crawling out of my skin at nite Must be something in the water.
how to describe your personality If you don't know, why should I tell you?
if your pregnant and you have sex and they cum in you can they be the father then? I have to ask: Has the world stopped teaching sex ed? If you're having sex and then have to Google the possibilities after you've already had sex, then I don't believe you should continue to have sex. At least not right away. Pick up a book and Google around some more, figure it all out, including basic third-grade biology, and then go back to your s/o. It will be worth it.
I often wonder what kind of hits Google gets. I mean, I'd love for them to publish a book of all the outrageous things that people have searched for over the years. The search terms alone would make a book with a thousand pages. Then there'd be the downside. The things people search for that would make us realise that humanity is on its way out. Things such as these terms that just a small portion (1-2 people at max) searched for on Google, and somehow, for some reason were directed to my blog. Enjoy!

belle de jour blog
i feel like i am crawling out of my skin at nite Must be something in the water.
how to describe your personality If you don't know, why should I tell you?
if your pregnant and you have sex and they cum in you can they be the father then? I have to ask: Has the world stopped teaching sex ed? If you're having sex and then have to Google the possibilities after you've already had sex, then I don't believe you should continue to have sex. At least not right away. Pick up a book and Google around some more, figure it all out, including basic third-grade biology, and then go back to your s/o. It will be worth it.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

YOU Figure It Out!!

WHY do I get phone calls like this:


HUSBAND: Is Neosporin safe for your ass?
ME: Where on your ass..!
HUSBAND: In the hole ... It, um, has a somewhat bad, bleeding tear from when I was ...

*This is where I hang up*


WHY call me???? He has a smartphone with google! Google doesn't discriminate! Google it! 

*I apologise to those who are now grossed out. You knew the risks when you opened this blog.*

Music For The Week




Add me on there, if you like.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Fireworks

For all you wacky Americans out there:

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Another Night

Why is it that I dread the night so much?

The darkness? Or the fact that I cannot sleep anymore? I toss. I turn. I feel like I am crawling out of my skin. There is nothing that will relieve this in me. Nothing that I have, anyway. I know what will relieve it. Narcotics. After all this time, that is what I truly want. That is what I need.

My mum wants me to give her more money. Apparently, she found out about my four-month thing with Robert coming over, falling asleep after orgasm, and me getting first pick of his wallet. He doesn't care, but he doesn't like my mum, either. He tells me that the money cannot be spent on her. I tell him that I cannot keep the money if she finds out about it. At least her addiction is legal, she says.

I am never content at night. Stiff neck. Crawling out of my skin. Too hot. Too cold. Too achy. In need of a fix. Nothing working out. It's too dark. I do my best sleeping when the sun is bright in the sky and the air is warm. I want to stay awake at night and see the stars. It's been too long since I've seen the stars. Perhaps that is why I cannot sleep properly. I have been deprived of watching the stars dance in the sky at night.
Why is it that I dread the night so much?

The darkness? Or the fact that I cannot sleep anymore? I toss. I turn. I feel like I am crawling out of my skin. There is nothing that will relieve this in me. Nothing that I have, anyway. I know what will relieve it. Narcotics. After all this time, that is what I truly want. That is what I need.

My mum wants me to give her more money. Apparently, she found out about my four-month thing with Robert coming over, falling asleep after orgasm, and me getting first pick of his wallet. He doesn't care, but he doesn't like my mum, either. He tells me that the money cannot be spent on her. I tell him that I cannot keep the money if she finds out about it. At least her addiction is legal, she says.

I am never content at night. Stiff neck. Crawling out of my skin. Too hot. Too cold. Too achy. In need of a fix. Nothing working out. It's too dark. I do my best sleeping when the sun is bright in the sky and the air is warm. I want to stay awake at night and see the stars. It's been too long since I've seen the stars. Perhaps that is why I cannot sleep properly. I have been deprived of watching the stars dance in the sky at night.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Hollywood Romance

I've been scouring all the places that don't update automatically, and changing my age. Wow. For over a week there, I was lying to everyone and stating that I was still 30. Oh well. I guess that the few who screamed that I was lying on the internet can actually be correct for a change. *snicker* I mean, I agree with them all. I should be stoned and tarred and feathered for posting such incriminating, horrible, false information! I should think of the perverts who jack off to this! There's a rumor that they can only get hard when they know the blogger is exactly 30. Not 29 or 31 or 32. But strictly 30. Think of all the horrible blue balls I caused them! The internet may never recover...

Enough of that.

The kids are off, playing. The man in my life is back on the road. That left me with some time to do some things that I really didn't want to do, and dig up some old movies that I have never had the pleasure of watching before. One of them was Fatal Attraction. Man. That entire movie brought back horrible memories of DeSlut and her adventures with my brother in law. It almost made me cry. Almost. The horrors that she caused our family came flooding back, and I thought about them for a long time after watching the film. She actually had the nerve to ask me what I was "doing there" in my home with my husband and children. She actually demanded that I turn over custody of my boys to her and my brother in law (what? couldn't they make their own babies??). She demanded that we include her in family gatherings, only to show up drunk and screaming slurring insults at me. One of which was my baby shower for Chloe. Another was my father's Independence Day Barbecue.

We stopped inviting her, and she took to online to harass and threaten and basically make my life a living hell. She would email Namecheap.com and demand the credit card number that bought my domain, claiming that it was her credit card, and she wanted to know the name on the account. Luckily, eNom saw through her act and told her to send them the credit card number and they would compare notes. Otherwise, get a police order or leave us alone. She couldn't do that, so she started lying about eNom on various places on the web. Mostly on boards where I frequented for business and pleasure. The most memorable one was Web Hosting Talk. Man. I was too embarrassed to go back there for years after the scene she pulled there.

Her insanity revolved around her being pregnant by Billy, my brother in law, and demanding that he step up and be a man. Billy denies ever having sex with her, but his memory isn't too good these days. She has been faking pregnancies and miscarriages, all caused by Billy, his refusal to marry her, his refusal to talk about her in public, his refusal to abandon his family for her, since 2002. Every year she would harp about how she had friends die at his art and book shows, so he owed her. She would scream how they got drunk and fucked and she was pregnant. Then when he wouldn't give her huge amounts of money, she would get drunk again, hurl insults about me, my children, my life, at him, and the next morning there would be this huge drama sob-fest about how he made her drink, and she lost the baby. She never once had a baby bump, even when she was claiming to be eight-and-a-half months pregnant. But then she claimed her "smoking cigarettes" made her have extremely small babies. Ummmmm....

That isn't even half of the shit she did to me in that eight-year period of harassment, emotional torture and mental abuse. There is more. Much, much more. But I am not going to air that out here, now. It's not my place, and doesn't relate to the topic at hand: How Billy's love life was a perfect mirror of the film Fatal Attraction. How I saw much of DeSlut in the Alex character in the film. The writers could have been doing a documentary on our lives from 2002-2010, it was just that similar to what I went through.

I put Fatal Attraction on my external drive, to be burned onto one of the many DVDs that I am working on. Eventually, I will watch it again. Just not when it makes me queasy.
I've been scouring all the places that don't update automatically, and changing my age. Wow. For over a week there, I was lying to everyone and stating that I was still 30. Oh well. I guess that the few who screamed that I was lying on the internet can actually be correct for a change. *snicker* I mean, I agree with them all. I should be stoned and tarred and feathered for posting such incriminating, horrible, false information! I should think of the perverts who jack off to this! There's a rumor that they can only get hard when they know the blogger is exactly 30. Not 29 or 31 or 32. But strictly 30. Think of all the horrible blue balls I caused them! The internet may never recover...

Enough of that.

The kids are off, playing. The man in my life is back on the road. That left me with some time to do some things that I really didn't want to do, and dig up some old movies that I have never had the pleasure of watching before. One of them was
Fatal Attraction. Man. That entire movie brought back horrible memories of DeSlut and her adventures with my brother in law. It almost made me cry. Almost. The horrors that she caused our family came flooding back, and I thought about them for a long time after watching the film. She actually had the nerve to ask me what I was "doing there" in my home with my husband and children. She actually demanded that I turn over custody of my boys to her and my brother in law (what? couldn't they make their own babies??). She demanded that we include her in family gatherings, only to show up drunk and screaming slurring insults at me. One of which was my baby shower for Chloe. Another was my father's Independence Day Barbecue.

We stopped inviting her, and she took to online to harass and threaten and basically make my life a living hell. She would email Namecheap.com and demand the credit card number that bought my domain, claiming that it was her credit card, and she wanted to know the name on the account. Luckily, eNom saw through her act and told her to send them the credit card number and they would compare notes. Otherwise, get a police order or leave us alone. She couldn't do that, so she started lying about eNom on various places on the web. Mostly on boards where I frequented for business and pleasure. The most memorable one was Web Hosting Talk. Man. I was too embarrassed to go back there for years after the scene she pulled there.

Her insanity revolved around her being pregnant by Billy, my brother in law, and demanding that he step up and be a man. Billy denies ever having sex with her, but his memory isn't too good these days. She has been faking pregnancies and miscarriages, all caused by Billy, his refusal to marry her, his refusal to talk about her in public, his refusal to abandon his family for her, since 2002. Every year she would harp about how she had friends die at his art and book shows, so he owed her. She would scream how they got drunk and fucked and she was pregnant. Then when he wouldn't give her huge amounts of money, she would get drunk again, hurl insults about me, my children, my life, at him, and the next morning there would be this huge drama sob-fest about how he made her drink, and she lost the baby. She never once had a baby bump, even when she was claiming to be eight-and-a-half months pregnant. But then she claimed her "smoking cigarettes" made her have extremely small babies. Ummmmm....

That isn't even half of the shit she did to me in that eight-year period of harassment, emotional torture and mental abuse. There is more. Much, much more. But I am not going to air that out here, now. It's not my place, and doesn't relate to the topic at hand: How Billy's love life was a perfect mirror of the film Fatal Attraction. How I saw much of DeSlut in the Alex character in the film. The writers could have been doing a documentary on our lives from 2002-2010, it was just that similar to what I went through.

I put Fatal Attraction on my external drive, to be burned onto one of the many DVDs that I am working on. Eventually, I will watch it again. Just not when it makes me queasy.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Goodbye Spring

Today was the day of Chloe's biopsy results. A day that I dreaded for a long time. When I was last called to this floor, in this hospital, I was given the shock of my life. Six months to live. A little girl who wouldn't live to be a teenager. A teenage boy who wouldn't live to see Christmas. The results left me in tears, and I cried all the way to the car. I cried for many days after the prognosis. How could we live in a world where a little girl was going to die so early? How could God exist in a place where a teenage boy was going to die before Christmas? Christmas was a time Jess loved. Once again, I was faced with the possibility that Chloe was going to be taken from us. Possibly while her daddy was away, making a living for the rest of us. Thoughts of how cold and cruel this world was, where a little five year old girl would hear that she had less than a month to live, just a few weeks before her sixth birthday. How a little girl who loved her family dearly was going to be taken from the only people she loved and trusted. It wasn't right. Nick was back with the guys, completely recovered from his injuries, so it was just me and Chloe in the car. Her brothers at home with their granddaddy. Fascinoma played softly on the radio as I drove the familiar streets to the hospital. We parked not too far from the physicians building, and Chloe bounced across the parking lot to the Stop Sign at the corner. Peeked both ways across the street before bouncing to the door of the building. I let her call for the elevator. The tears came in the elevator. The wonders of how this could happen a third time. Chloe wanted to press all the buttons in the elevator, but I told her not to.

We reached the 5th floor, where I noticed the sign for the surgeon who had saved my life just fourteen months prior. I hid the tears well. Not even the receptionist knew I had been crying. I paid the payment, and Chloe and I waited in the waiting room with the faded silk plants and tattered, outdated magazines.





The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally we were called to the exam room. Chloe was weighed on the way there. She'd lost a pound. The nurse said there was an order for an EKG, but it wasn't explained why. More waiting. Chloe picked up the model of a human heart, and started naming the chambers. I was amazed. "How did you know those?" I asked. She smiled. "Momma, don't you remember telling me these?" she asked. I shook my head. But she was correct in naming the chambers, aorta, and other places. More waiting. I picked up a magazine and started to rummage through the pages, not really paying attention to what I was looking at. The doctor came in, did a quick cardio exam. I asked why, and he said there was a "little concern" on the EKG, but nothing that was raising any red flags. He droned on and on about the surgery, how tumors were removed, and how a biopsy was performed. Finally he got to the part I was waiting for.

"The tumor is benign," he said.

The magazine slipped from my fingers and hit the floor in a flutter of pages. "Does this mean that she's going to live to see Christmas? Her birthday?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"She's going to live to be a hundred," he replied, with a smile. I hugged that doctor. :D Chloe and I went out for ice cream after the appointment. I didn't even mind that she ate 90% of her ice cream in the car with no spoon. With a prognosis like that, she could eat 10,000 pints of ice cream in the backseat of my car! My little girl was going to live. She was going to heal. No more painful memories of Christmas, birthdays, watching a young person die. No more worry, wondering, offering high doses of narcotics because nothing takes the edge off the pain. No more tears. No more emotional anguish. No more mental torture.

Thank you to everyone who expressed warm wishes, prayers and thoughts over the past month. I was really dreading another child getting critically ill, but it seems I won't have to experience that again (hopefully!). Whether you expressed those wishes, prayers or thought or not, I am grateful that people care. ♥ to all! I hope that any adversaries anyone I know faces come out as good as my last one did! If the world were like that, there would be no need for Heaven. We'd all already be there!
Today was the day of Chloe's biopsy results. A day that I dreaded for a long time. When I was last called to this floor, in this hospital, I was given the shock of my life. Six months to live. A little girl who wouldn't live to be a teenager. A teenage boy who wouldn't live to see Christmas. The results left me in tears, and I cried all the way to the car. I cried for many days after the prognosis. How could we live in a world where a little girl was going to die so early? How could God exist in a place where a teenage boy was going to die before Christmas? Christmas was a time Jess loved. Once again, I was faced with the possibility that Chloe was going to be taken from us. Possibly while her daddy was away, making a living for the rest of us. Thoughts of how cold and cruel this world was, where a little five year old girl would hear that she had less than a month to live, just a few weeks before her sixth birthday. How a little girl who loved her family dearly was going to be taken from the only people she loved and trusted. It wasn't right. Nick was back with the guys, completely recovered from his injuries, so it was just me and Chloe in the car. Her brothers at home with their granddaddy. Fascinoma played softly on the radio as I drove the familiar streets to the hospital. We parked not too far from the physicians building, and Chloe bounced across the parking lot to the Stop Sign at the corner. Peeked both ways across the street before bouncing to the door of the building. I let her call for the elevator. The tears came in the elevator. The wonders of how this could happen a third time. Chloe wanted to press all the buttons in the elevator, but I told her not to.

We reached the 5th floor, where I noticed the sign for the surgeon who had saved my life just fourteen months prior. I hid the tears well. Not even the receptionist knew I had been crying. I paid the payment, and Chloe and I waited in the waiting room with the faded silk plants and tattered, outdated magazines.





The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally we were called to the exam room. Chloe was weighed on the way there. She'd lost a pound. The nurse said there was an order for an EKG, but it wasn't explained why. More waiting. Chloe picked up the model of a human heart, and started naming the chambers. I was amazed. "How did you know those?" I asked. She smiled. "Momma, don't you remember telling me these?" she asked. I shook my head. But she was correct in naming the chambers, aorta, and other places. More waiting. I picked up a magazine and started to rummage through the pages, not really paying attention to what I was looking at. The doctor came in, did a quick cardio exam. I asked why, and he said there was a "little concern" on the EKG, but nothing that was raising any red flags. He droned on and on about the surgery, how tumors were removed, and how a biopsy was performed. Finally he got to the part I was waiting for.

"The tumor is benign," he said.

The magazine slipped from my fingers and hit the floor in a flutter of pages. "Does this mean that she's going to live to see Christmas? Her birthday?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"She's going to live to be a hundred," he replied, with a smile. I hugged that doctor. :D Chloe and I went out for ice cream after the appointment. I didn't even mind that she ate 90% of her ice cream in the car with no spoon. With a prognosis like that, she could eat 10,000 pints of ice cream in the backseat of my car! My little girl was going to live. She was going to heal. No more painful memories of Christmas, birthdays, watching a young person die. No more worry, wondering, offering high doses of narcotics because nothing takes the edge off the pain. No more tears. No more emotional anguish. No more mental torture.

Thank you to everyone who expressed warm wishes, prayers and thoughts over the past month. I was really dreading another child getting critically ill, but it seems I won't have to experience that again (hopefully!). Whether you expressed those wishes, prayers or thought or not, I am grateful that people care. ♥ to all! I hope that any adversaries anyone I know faces come out as good as my last one did! If the world were like that, there would be no need for Heaven. We'd all already be there!

Goodbye Spring

Today was the day of Chloe's biopsy results. A day that I dreaded for a long time. When I was last called to this floor, in this hospital, I was given the shock of my life. Six months to live. A little girl who wouldn't live to be a teenager. A teenage boy who wouldn't live to see Christmas. The results left me in tears, and I cried all the way to the car. I cried for many days after the prognosis. How could we live in a world where a little girl was going to die so early? How could God exist in a place where a teenage boy was going to die before Christmas? Christmas was a time Jess loved. Once again, I was faced with the possibility that Chloe was going to be taken from us. Possibly while her daddy was away, making a living for the rest of us. Thoughts of how cold and cruel this world was, where a little five year old girl would hear that she had less than a month to live, just a few weeks before her sixth birthday. How a little girl who loved her family dearly was going to be taken from the only people she loved and trusted. It wasn't right. Nick was back with the guys, completely recovered from his injuries, so it was just me and Chloe in the car. Her brothers at home with their granddaddy. Fascinoma played softly on the radio as I drove the familiar streets to the hospital. We parked not too far from the physicians building, and Chloe bounced across the parking lot to the Stop Sign at the corner. Peeked both ways across the street before bouncing to the door of the building. I let her call for the elevator. The tears came in the elevator. The wonders of how this could happen a third time. Chloe wanted to press all the buttons in the elevator, but I told her not to.

We reached the 5th floor, where I noticed the sign for the surgeon who had saved my life just fourteen months prior. I hid the tears well. Not even the receptionist knew I had been crying. I paid the payment, and Chloe and I waited in the waiting room with the faded silk plants and tattered, outdated magazines.





The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally we were called to the exam room. Chloe was weighed on the way there. She'd lost a pound. The nurse said there was an order for an EKG, but it wasn't explained why. More waiting. Chloe picked up the model of a human heart, and started naming the chambers. I was amazed. "How did you know those?" I asked. She smiled. "Momma, don't you remember telling me these?" she asked. I shook my head. But she was correct in naming the chambers, aorta, and other places. More waiting. I picked up a magazine and started to rummage through the pages, not really paying attention to what I was looking at. The doctor came in, did a quick cardio exam. I asked why, and he said there was a "little concern" on the EKG, but nothing that was raising any red flags. He droned on and on about the surgery, how tumors were removed, and how a biopsy was performed. Finally he got to the part I was waiting for.

"The tumor is benign," he said.

The magazine slipped from my fingers and hit the floor in a flutter of pages. "Does this mean that she's going to live to see Christmas? Her birthday?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"She's going to live to be a hundred," he replied, with a smile. I hugged that doctor. :D Chloe and I went out for ice cream after the appointment. I didn't even mind that she ate 90% of her ice cream in the car with no spoon. With a prognosis like that, she could eat 10,000 pints of ice cream in the backseat of my car! My little girl was going to live. She was going to heal. No more painful memories of Christmas, birthdays, watching a young person die. No more worry, wondering, offering high doses of narcotics because nothing takes the edge off the pain. No more tears. No more emotional anguish. No more mental torture.

Thank you to everyone who expressed warm wishes, prayers and thoughts over the past month. I was really dreading another child getting critically ill, but it seems I won't have to experience that again (hopefully!). Whether you expressed those wishes, prayers or thought or not, I am grateful that people care. ♥ to all! I hope that any adversaries anyone I know faces come out as good as my last one did! If the world were like that, there would be no need for Heaven. We'd all already be there!
Today was the day of Chloe's biopsy results. A day that I dreaded for a long time. When I was last called to this floor, in this hospital, I was given the shock of my life. Six months to live. A little girl who wouldn't live to be a teenager. A teenage boy who wouldn't live to see Christmas. The results left me in tears, and I cried all the way to the car. I cried for many days after the prognosis. How could we live in a world where a little girl was going to die so early? How could God exist in a place where a teenage boy was going to die before Christmas? Christmas was a time Jess loved. Once again, I was faced with the possibility that Chloe was going to be taken from us. Possibly while her daddy was away, making a living for the rest of us. Thoughts of how cold and cruel this world was, where a little five year old girl would hear that she had less than a month to live, just a few weeks before her sixth birthday. How a little girl who loved her family dearly was going to be taken from the only people she loved and trusted. It wasn't right. Nick was back with the guys, completely recovered from his injuries, so it was just me and Chloe in the car. Her brothers at home with their granddaddy. Fascinoma played softly on the radio as I drove the familiar streets to the hospital. We parked not too far from the physicians building, and Chloe bounced across the parking lot to the Stop Sign at the corner. Peeked both ways across the street before bouncing to the door of the building. I let her call for the elevator. The tears came in the elevator. The wonders of how this could happen a third time. Chloe wanted to press all the buttons in the elevator, but I told her not to.

We reached the 5th floor, where I noticed the sign for the surgeon who had saved my life just fourteen months prior. I hid the tears well. Not even the receptionist knew I had been crying. I paid the payment, and Chloe and I waited in the waiting room with the faded silk plants and tattered, outdated magazines.





The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally we were called to the exam room. Chloe was weighed on the way there. She'd lost a pound. The nurse said there was an order for an EKG, but it wasn't explained why. More waiting. Chloe picked up the model of a human heart, and started naming the chambers. I was amazed. "How did you know those?" I asked. She smiled. "Momma, don't you remember telling me these?" she asked. I shook my head. But she was correct in naming the chambers, aorta, and other places. More waiting. I picked up a magazine and started to rummage through the pages, not really paying attention to what I was looking at. The doctor came in, did a quick cardio exam. I asked why, and he said there was a "little concern" on the EKG, but nothing that was raising any red flags. He droned on and on about the surgery, how tumors were removed, and how a biopsy was performed. Finally he got to the part I was waiting for.

"The tumor is benign," he said.

The magazine slipped from my fingers and hit the floor in a flutter of pages. "Does this mean that she's going to live to see Christmas? Her birthday?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"She's going to live to be a hundred," he replied, with a smile. I hugged that doctor. :D Chloe and I went out for ice cream after the appointment. I didn't even mind that she ate 90% of her ice cream in the car with no spoon. With a prognosis like that, she could eat 10,000 pints of ice cream in the backseat of my car! My little girl was going to live. She was going to heal. No more painful memories of Christmas, birthdays, watching a young person die. No more worry, wondering, offering high doses of narcotics because nothing takes the edge off the pain. No more tears. No more emotional anguish. No more mental torture.

Thank you to everyone who expressed warm wishes, prayers and thoughts over the past month. I was really dreading another child getting critically ill, but it seems I won't have to experience that again (hopefully!). Whether you expressed those wishes, prayers or thought or not, I am grateful that people care. ♥ to all! I hope that any adversaries anyone I know faces come out as good as my last one did! If the world were like that, there would be no need for Heaven. We'd all already be there!

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Another Identity in the System

Thank you to everyone who remembered me on my birthday (two days ago). So much has gone on since I last updated, and I have some paperwork for the University to finish up before I can truly relax.

Jerry came back sometime in the afternoon on Saturday to get clothes, food, and mutter something about how badly I have ruined his life, with this "family and all". Very strange behaviour. Yesterday, he showed up at family therapy while I was describing to the doctor all that had happened over the weekend and how I had my suspicions that this was another one of his acts where he pretends to be mad at me for days only to give me a new nose screw or a real wedding band or some other present that would mean a lot to me. But not this time. I spent my birthday alone, in bed, recovering from falling in the tub the night before and hurting my knee. Sadly, none of the pain killers I have really kill pain, but they do make me good and nauseated every time I take them.

The doctor talked with Jerry privately in his office, then I watched Jerry walk away, out of the clinic, and that was the last I saw of him. The doctor called me back in and explained to me that another member of the system has shown up. Possibly from a dream Friday night/Saturday morning, and when Chloe woke us up, Jerry has disassociated into this person, who dislikes me immensely, doesn't want kids or a family, and in their own little world they aren't married.

The fuck ... ?

This is the major snag in our relationship.

Jerry has never hit me, that was Trevor.
Jerry has never attempted suicide, that was Alexander.
Jerry has never stolen drugs from my parents, that was Stephen.
Jerry has never hit Chloe, that was Trevor again.

I know I'm on a lot of anti-depressants, have been in two asylums for evaluations, and I tend to take a little more narcotics than needed for my pain problems, to the point where I feel like a junky, but does anyone else get the feeling that this whole disassociate identity disorder diagnosis is a little too convenient? An excuse for bad behaviour? A get-out-of-jail free card for being hateful to me and the kids whenever he wants or needs a "break" from the family? I agree that people should take breaks from their families, children, spouses for a few days or weeks, but at least own up to what you are doing. Don't beat the shit out of your wife and daughter who love you dearly, then a few days later, pretend you know nothing of it, and then find a letter from "Trevor" confessing to it all.

I expressed this to the doctor, and he said that he felt the same way, at first. Then he saw that Trevor was left handed - Jerry is not - Trevor could legibly write with his left hand, something that Jerry cannot do when he is not Trevor. Trevor cannot paint, draw or sculpt like Jerry does. The doctor assured me that this was completely normal for DID behaviour, and if I felt threatened, I needed to work on how I deal with the others in the system. In other words, it's best that I not anger people whom I can't see or tell the difference from them or my husband. I wish I could joke about this and say that it makes for interesting dinner conversations, because you never know who is going to show up, but it doesn't. It just really frustrates me.

Chloe feels that she is the reason the family may not stay together. I am looking into options lately, and I'll write more when I see that I have found some options, good or bad. For those of you who were not reading my site or journal back in 2005, Chloe bonded deeply with her daddy, because I had staph infections, blood infections, and other problems, and couldn't come home as early as I was supposed to. So Jerry took our daughter home, and for the first month or so of her life, was her soul caregiver. She clings to him. Then this shit happens. Or the deal with those stupid doughnuts, where she jumped over the seat in the car and squashed the box of doughnuts and got slapped, in the face, hard, for several seconds. I wasn't able to intervene with that one, but it happened, nevertheless. Of course, Trevor did it. *eye roll* Jerry is back with the guys on the road, for now. Nick called and told me he's still Trevor, so there's no point in me calling yet. Yes, this whole thing sucks. Chloe doesn't understand why her daddy is mad at her all of a sudden. I also have a bad feeling that she's been sick before (she had heat-related sickness, because her father and granddad left her and the boys out in the backyard while I was at my evaluations, with just a wading pool and a bag of chips, in 100-degree heat. Intelligent men, huh? No sunblock. No hats. 12-16 hours in the heat.), and she's been hiding it.

Richard gave me today and tomorrow off, but I have to work through the weekend, and then it's just computer programming work for the rest of the week/month. Next month I think I'll go a little easier on the students.

As always, opinions, suggestions, support, love, whatnot, is welcome in the comments.
Thank you to everyone who remembered me on my birthday (two days ago). So much has gone on since I last updated, and I have some paperwork for the University to finish up before I can truly relax.

Jerry came back sometime in the afternoon on Saturday to get clothes, food, and mutter something about how badly I have ruined his life, with this "family and all". Very strange behaviour. Yesterday, he showed up at family therapy while I was describing to the doctor all that had happened over the weekend and how I had my suspicions that this was another one of his acts where he pretends to be mad at me for days only to give me a new nose screw or a real wedding band or some other present that would mean a lot to me. But not this time. I spent my birthday alone, in bed, recovering from falling in the tub the night before and hurting my knee. Sadly, none of the pain killers I have really kill pain, but they do make me good and nauseated every time I take them.

The doctor talked with Jerry privately in his office, then I watched Jerry walk away, out of the clinic, and that was the last I saw of him. The doctor called me back in and explained to me that another member of the system has shown up. Possibly from a dream Friday night/Saturday morning, and when Chloe woke us up, Jerry has disassociated into this person, who dislikes me immensely, doesn't want kids or a family, and in their own little world they aren't married.

The fuck ... ?

This is the major snag in our relationship.

Jerry has never hit me, that was Trevor.
Jerry has never attempted suicide, that was Alexander.
Jerry has never stolen drugs from my parents, that was Stephen.
Jerry has never hit Chloe, that was Trevor again.

I know I'm on a lot of anti-depressants, have been in two asylums for evaluations, and I tend to take a little more narcotics than needed for my pain problems, to the point where I feel like a junky, but does anyone else get the feeling that this whole disassociate identity disorder diagnosis is a little too convenient? An excuse for bad behaviour? A get-out-of-jail free card for being hateful to me and the kids whenever he wants or needs a "break" from the family? I agree that people should take breaks from their families, children, spouses for a few days or weeks, but at least own up to what you are doing. Don't beat the shit out of your wife and daughter who love you dearly, then a few days later, pretend you know nothing of it, and then find a letter from "Trevor" confessing to it all.

I expressed this to the doctor, and he said that he felt the same way, at first. Then he saw that Trevor was left handed - Jerry is not - Trevor could legibly write with his left hand, something that Jerry cannot do when he is not Trevor. Trevor cannot paint, draw or sculpt like Jerry does. The doctor assured me that this was completely normal for DID behaviour, and if I felt threatened, I needed to work on how I deal with the others in the system. In other words, it's best that I not anger people whom I can't see or tell the difference from them or my husband. I wish I could joke about this and say that it makes for interesting dinner conversations, because you never know who is going to show up, but it doesn't. It just really frustrates me.

Chloe feels that she is the reason the family may not stay together. I am looking into options lately, and I'll write more when I see that I have found some options, good or bad. For those of you who were not reading my site or journal back in 2005, Chloe bonded deeply with her daddy, because I had staph infections, blood infections, and other problems, and couldn't come home as early as I was supposed to. So Jerry took our daughter home, and for the first month or so of her life, was her soul caregiver. She clings to him. Then this shit happens. Or the deal with those stupid doughnuts, where she jumped over the seat in the car and squashed the box of doughnuts and got slapped, in the face, hard, for several seconds. I wasn't able to intervene with that one, but it happened, nevertheless. Of course, Trevor did it. *eye roll* Jerry is back with the guys on the road, for now. Nick called and told me he's still Trevor, so there's no point in me calling yet. Yes, this whole thing sucks. Chloe doesn't understand why her daddy is mad at her all of a sudden. I also have a bad feeling that she's been sick before (she had heat-related sickness, because her father and granddad left her and the boys out in the backyard while I was at my evaluations, with just a wading pool and a bag of chips, in 100-degree heat. Intelligent men, huh? No sunblock. No hats. 12-16 hours in the heat.), and she's been hiding it.

Richard gave me today and tomorrow off, but I have to work through the weekend, and then it's just computer programming work for the rest of the week/month. Next month I think I'll go a little easier on the students.

As always, opinions, suggestions, support, love, whatnot, is welcome in the comments.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Flowers

My husband brought home flowers tonight. I wonder what he's done... lol

Yes, that's a THC pen on my desk. Who are you to judge me???


















We put some in the kitchen. He brought home four bouquets, which really makes me wonder what he's done... Yes, the theme in my kitchen was going to be "Sunflowers", but you can see that we didn't quite finish that thought.















Chloe wants me to post this next photo. It's two of her toy aliens "mating". Where she learned that concept, I can only imagine. But she thinks it's hilarious, and she can't start a blog of her own, so who am I to deny her internet fame?



Before I close tonight, I'm going to make a pizza for the kids' dinner, and snuggle into bed with my man and try to get a good night's sleep for the first time in a while. My doctor is denying me my medication, so I can't sleep or think well. I took my Fentanyl patch off yesterday, and this hour marks 24 hours that I have been patchless. I can feel the difference in my constant yawning, and I have to do something about this. Addiction sucks. Leave warm, fuzzy feelings for me, okay?

I have more news, but the real world is calling me. I need to get back on track and get back to those basics. I know, it's been over a week since I last updated here, but I can assure you, I'm not holding back on purpose.
My husband brought home flowers tonight. I wonder what he's done... lol

Yes, that's a THC pen on my desk. Who are you to judge me???


















We put some in the kitchen. He brought home four bouquets, which really makes me wonder what he's done... Yes, the theme in my kitchen was going to be "Sunflowers", but you can see that we didn't quite finish that thought.















Chloe wants me to post this next photo. It's two of her toy aliens "mating". Where she learned that concept, I can only imagine. But she thinks it's hilarious, and she can't start a blog of her own, so who am I to deny her internet fame?



Before I close tonight, I'm going to make a pizza for the kids' dinner, and snuggle into bed with my man and try to get a good night's sleep for the first time in a while. My doctor is denying me my medication, so I can't sleep or think well. I took my Fentanyl patch off yesterday, and this hour marks 24 hours that I have been patchless. I can feel the difference in my constant yawning, and I have to do something about this. Addiction sucks. Leave warm, fuzzy feelings for me, okay?

I have more news, but the real world is calling me. I need to get back on track and get back to those basics. I know, it's been over a week since I last updated here, but I can assure you, I'm not holding back on purpose.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Zealots

If there is one thing I cannot stand, it's the religious zealots that seem to take over the world.

Or the conversation. Which ever they prefer or think their points will be the most heard.

It's nice that people have opinions, thoughts, feelings, but one cannot have those and infringe on the opinions, thoughts and feelings of others. The other day, I came across a religious zealot on the internet. They graced my domain blog by letting me know that by succumbing to Fentanyl patches to control pain inflicted on my by a stoned driver, I was an unfit parent and my husband should have me committed while moving my dear, innocent children as far away from me as humanly possible. Nice Christian, huh?

One of the sites they credited their opinions of me, someone they spent all of three minutes reading the front page of my site before judging me with heavily tainted "sources", was one of those nutjob religious pages that makes one want to vomit. Gays, sluts, whore, redheads, working moms, women who choose not to get married, women who choose not to have children, TV watchers, people who buy groceries at a store, and so fourth, are all evil, satanic and going to hell. Alright, motherfucker. See ya there!

These were the pages they quoted as sources for the abuse towards me:
Divorce, TV, and microwaves. I'm not sure how microwaves got in the middle of this, but it did.

One of the things I can't stress enough is that I'm not ashamed of my past. It's part of what made me who I am today. Without the things I have lived through, I wouldn't be the person I am. I would not have the life I have today if it were not for my past. I believe in God. I believe in Heaven. I don't believe God is this asshole that the Christians today perceive him to be. They feel that because they are "saved" they can fuck over anyone they want, be the biggest assholes in the world, and it's all fine and dandy because God has reserved a special place for them in Heaven when they die, all because they muttered prayers to a being they have never seen before.

While I believe there is more to life than what we see, there is the logical side to me. What if we're wrong? What if our lives are all we have? That is why I am forgiving. That is why I am nice to as many people as I can, until they fuck me over. That is why I believe in the goodness of others and the innocence in their mistakes. I believe we should have fun in this life, while we still can. We're invincible as long as we're alive. I believe in preserving the innocence of childhood. So what if my five year old does not have a bank account and is not seriously writing checks? She's five. She's five years old! She shouldn't be cooking meals and writing checks! She'll have plenty of time to do that when she's 18+. At the same time, my boys shouldn't be building houses and handling tools. Anyone else know of a three year old that can run a band saw? Or should I ask, Does anyone else know any parents crazy enough to let their three year old(s) run a band saw?

Perhaps my children are missing out on growing up too fast, but I'm not in a hurry anymore. Neither should they.

Let's touch on the real issue here. My drug use. The fact that I have a few male friends, gays, straight, bisexual. What kind of an example am I setting for my children? Well, for one, my children just assume that I have many friends. What's wrong with that? Shouldn't we encourage our children to make friends? I don't have any hangups about sex, so why should my kids, when they come of age? Drugs? You mean those legal prescriptions that aren't abused or over used and that I take to erase the pain inflicted on me by a stoned driver who got out of the criminal charges because he told the judge he "found Jesus" and would never drive stoned again? Yeah. I take a minimum dose at night and some during the day. My kids don't know what I am taking. Mommy is sick. There's nothing wrong with that. I can function on the medications. I don't act stupid when I have taken an opioid. They take away my pain. Where's the harm in that?

God, religion and all of that should be about peace, love and tolerance. It should be about treating people during our living years with love, respect and dignity. No matter what they have done to us out of confusion or illness. If someone repeatedly abuses another, the victim should at least try to get away from that person. Not hurt them back. Not be angry with them. An abuser is someone who needs help. Who needs the right kind of attention to stop their ways. I have faith in many people. I love to see people progress beyond their meager selves and habits. Studying psychology to the point of getting a Bachelor's Degree in it made me see this.

Before I bid you all farewell, I'm leaving you with this picture. The domestic violence and abuse has started back up. If things don't improve in a few days, when my husband gets home, there's going to be some changes in my life that others probably won't like, will probably judge me for, and you know what? I really don't care. But it's interesting, nevertheless.

If there is one thing I cannot stand, it's the religious zealots that seem to take over the world.

Or the conversation. Which ever they prefer or think their points will be the most heard.

It's nice that people have opinions, thoughts, feelings, but one cannot have those and infringe on the opinions, thoughts and feelings of others. The other day, I came across a religious zealot on the internet. They graced my domain blog by letting me know that by succumbing to Fentanyl patches to control pain inflicted on my by a stoned driver, I was an unfit parent and my husband should have me committed while moving my dear, innocent children as far away from me as humanly possible. Nice Christian, huh?

One of the sites they credited their opinions of me, someone they spent all of three minutes reading the front page of my site before judging me with heavily tainted "sources", was one of those nutjob religious pages that makes one want to vomit. Gays, sluts, whore, redheads, working moms, women who choose not to get married, women who choose not to have children, TV watchers, people who buy groceries at a store, and so fourth, are all evil, satanic and going to hell. Alright, motherfucker. See ya there!

These were the pages they quoted as sources for the abuse towards me:
Divorce, TV, and microwaves. I'm not sure how microwaves got in the middle of this, but it did.

One of the things I can't stress enough is that I'm not ashamed of my past. It's part of what made me who I am today. Without the things I have lived through, I wouldn't be the person I am. I would not have the life I have today if it were not for my past. I believe in God. I believe in Heaven. I don't believe God is this asshole that the Christians today perceive him to be. They feel that because they are "saved" they can fuck over anyone they want, be the biggest assholes in the world, and it's all fine and dandy because God has reserved a special place for them in Heaven when they die, all because they muttered prayers to a being they have never seen before.

While I believe there is more to life than what we see, there is the logical side to me. What if we're wrong? What if our lives are all we have? That is why I am forgiving. That is why I am nice to as many people as I can, until they fuck me over. That is why I believe in the goodness of others and the innocence in their mistakes. I believe we should have fun in this life, while we still can. We're invincible as long as we're alive. I believe in preserving the innocence of childhood. So what if my five year old does not have a bank account and is not seriously writing checks? She's five. She's five years old! She shouldn't be cooking meals and writing checks! She'll have plenty of time to do that when she's 18+. At the same time, my boys shouldn't be building houses and handling tools. Anyone else know of a three year old that can run a band saw? Or should I ask, Does anyone else know any parents crazy enough to let their three year old(s) run a band saw?

Perhaps my children are missing out on growing up too fast, but I'm not in a hurry anymore. Neither should they.

Let's touch on the real issue here. My drug use. The fact that I have a few male friends, gays, straight, bisexual. What kind of an example am I setting for my children? Well, for one, my children just assume that I have many friends. What's wrong with that? Shouldn't we encourage our children to make friends? I don't have any hangups about sex, so why should my kids, when they come of age? Drugs? You mean those legal prescriptions that aren't abused or over used and that I take to erase the pain inflicted on me by a stoned driver who got out of the criminal charges because he told the judge he "found Jesus" and would never drive stoned again? Yeah. I take a minimum dose at night and some during the day. My kids don't know what I am taking. Mommy is sick. There's nothing wrong with that. I can function on the medications. I don't act stupid when I have taken an opioid. They take away my pain. Where's the harm in that?

God, religion and all of that should be about peace, love and tolerance. It should be about treating people during our living years with love, respect and dignity. No matter what they have done to us out of confusion or illness. If someone repeatedly abuses another, the victim should at least try to get away from that person. Not hurt them back. Not be angry with them. An abuser is someone who needs help. Who needs the right kind of attention to stop their ways. I have faith in many people. I love to see people progress beyond their meager selves and habits. Studying psychology to the point of getting a Bachelor's Degree in it made me see this.

Before I bid you all farewell, I'm leaving you with this picture. The domestic violence and abuse has started back up. If things don't improve in a few days, when my husband gets home, there's going to be some changes in my life that others probably won't like, will probably judge me for, and you know what? I really don't care. But it's interesting, nevertheless.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Life's An Empty Bitch When You're Living A Lie

Amazing. When I uncensor myself, I get banned and threatened. Great. I had some good info I wanted to share with the world, but apparently I can't because it's not what people wanted to see or hear. It's pretty dark, so I won't be sharing it here. I can't. I don't want people attacking me here, as well. I have learned from my past that when things are starting to go asshole up, it's best to back away and let the idiots think they are correct. I've dealt with enough crazy people on the web to know that it's never a good idea to one up them because they never know when to quit. They will search and search until they know tidbits about you and make that available to more mentally unstable people.

In other news, I am back on my medication. Before I took it, before it got to me, I was going through some of my May PlayLists on iTunes, and a Donny Osmond song, Soldier of Love came on. I could have sworn he sang the lyrics: "Life's an empty bitch when you're living a lie." I did a double take and looked up the lyrics. He actually sings (or so it's written): "Life's an empty picture when you're living alone." Oh. I swallowed the four pills with my strawberry lemonade and tried to redeem myself. Giving up, since I'm better than what others think of me, I went back to my happy world where people love me.

I drove around this afternoon. It's so hot here, my Fentanyl patch sweated off of my arm. I want a car with airconditioning. Is that so much to ask for? For the first time in its miserable life, the car didn't blow a head gasket, so we're stuck with it. I considered slamming on the breaks while some asshole was tale-gating me on the highway, then I looked a second time, and it was a cop. Shit. I slowed a little and changed lanes. He went on. Whew. Imagine if I tried to get a cop to rear end me??? He'd probably throw me in the back seat and rear end me with his cock.

Enough whining. Pictures?

Flowers!


Coppers at the donut shop behind the Starbucks:




This guy argued so much with the drive thru clerk, my car idled there for so long, it overheated. So much for that cheap, quick fix!


Radioactive keys.


Ever wonder what mainstreet in my town looks like?




That's enough for me. I'm heading off to bed. Nick is supposed to be coming home tomorrow, from the hospital, and so is Chloe. Sleep tight, dear readers!
Amazing. When I uncensor myself, I get banned and threatened. Great. I had some good info I wanted to share with the world, but apparently I can't because it's not what people wanted to see or hear. It's pretty dark, so I won't be sharing it here. I can't. I don't want people attacking me here, as well. I have learned from my past that when things are starting to go asshole up, it's best to back away and let the idiots think they are correct. I've dealt with enough crazy people on the web to know that it's never a good idea to one up them because they never know when to quit. They will search and search until they know tidbits about you and make that available to more mentally unstable people.

In other news, I am back on my medication. Before I took it, before it got to me, I was going through some of my May PlayLists on iTunes, and a Donny Osmond song, Soldier of Love came on. I could have sworn he sang the lyrics: "Life's an empty bitch when you're living a lie." I did a double take and looked up the lyrics. He actually sings (or so it's written): "Life's an empty picture when you're living alone." Oh. I swallowed the four pills with my strawberry lemonade and tried to redeem myself. Giving up, since I'm better than what others think of me, I went back to my happy world where people love me.

I drove around this afternoon. It's so hot here, my Fentanyl patch sweated off of my arm. I want a car with airconditioning. Is that so much to ask for? For the first time in its miserable life, the car didn't blow a head gasket, so we're stuck with it. I considered slamming on the breaks while some asshole was tale-gating me on the highway, then I looked a second time, and it was a cop. Shit. I slowed a little and changed lanes. He went on. Whew. Imagine if I tried to get a cop to rear end me??? He'd probably throw me in the back seat and rear end me with his cock.

Enough whining. Pictures?

Flowers!


Coppers at the donut shop behind the Starbucks:




This guy argued so much with the drive thru clerk, my car idled there for so long, it overheated. So much for that cheap, quick fix!


Radioactive keys.


Ever wonder what mainstreet in my town looks like?




That's enough for me. I'm heading off to bed. Nick is supposed to be coming home tomorrow, from the hospital, and so is Chloe. Sleep tight, dear readers!
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