Tag Archives: postaweek2011

Who Are You?

It’s funny how many people I can be.  I’ve written about this before, I think.   I’m known, at least I know, I take on the personae of someone else.  If there is a situation where I ‘m confused about what my “proper” reaction should be, I resort to the capable, tried and true, traits of others.

I wish to remind readers I’m bipolar and not schizophrenic.  That’s pretty important to keep in mind right about now. I’ve also used the real names of the people you’re going to read about.  I hope I don’t get in trouble.

For example, when I need to be very assertive or borderline aggressive, “Mona” takes centre stage.  When Mona weaves her confidence and superior intelligence the job gets done.  Very organized and takes no crap from anyone. I liked that the best.  A marshmallow, though when it comes to love.  That was Mona.  And parts of me when I need it.  Forget the marshmallow part though.

I’ve missed Mona lately.  I haven’t seen the woman in the flesh for over 15 years but she stuck with me all this time.  Unfortunately, she’s been scarce in my life/brain the last few years and this is a time when I really need her.

Then there was Nanci.  Well, in real life Nanci and I ended a friendship but not before I stole a few key ingredients which made her so special.  People loved her so much and I was enormously jealous of that fact. I did tell her and we hugged and were friends for a long time. Even though she could be very cutting, she was also so charming.  She had a laugh that made everyone around her smile.  She was so much fun; Nanci was always in the fun car and I was not. I burn to be like that.   When I’m “on”, lots of times I channel Nanci. I stole some loyalty and “how to make friends” from her. She never seemed afraid of anything.  She has the most incredible eyes I have ever seen. She would see the world so differently than I.  She’s a large woman just like me, the difference being she could care less.  She’s beautiful and carries herself proudly.  I strive to use her uniqueness for my own gain.

I take on many traits of my younger sister.  Especially Colleen’s calmness when I need it and her unfailing strength.  Lately I’ve been calling on that strength more times a day than I can count.  Her gentleness with humanity, especially with children and animals has helped me gain the distinction of “being good with people”.  I’m able to see things in a different light just when I thought that light went out.

I do have to mention Corrie.  What did I steal from her?  Corrie is “fun”.  Corrie does “things”.  Corrie takes chances and took a big chance on love a few years ago.  It’s working for her.  I try to take chances too because Corrie helped me not to be afraid to try. Corrie taught me about friendship and love going together.  I hold on to that everyday.

So these are small parts of my “me”.  Things do get confusing because I don’t really know what part is really the “me” me.  You know?  I think we are all made up of people we work, socialize and live with because we’re influenced by them and we take the good and the bad from each other.

I always wonder who and what I’ll channel next.  I only hope it’s some good stuff, because, man, I need some good stuff right about now.

Peace and love.

Do you change who you are according to where you are or what situation you are in?

me n her

We did it.  The girl and I went out.  We had some shopping to do and I had no idea how I was going to do it. I came upon some money by accident.  Too many things happened at once (really, at once is a ridiculously redundant term as everything just keeps happening!); her retainer cracked, then she lost it, then she found it, and it was still cracked ($125).  She tried out for volleyball and did it!  Now we need volleyball shorts and knee guards.

No gas, getting low on supplies…ARGH!  Some things never change. What’s a girl to do?

I found a file at work (I’ve been a little unfocused these last few weeks), and in it was my expenses and mileage sheet.  For 2 months.  $132.00.

That’s Canadian $.

Put that with my ex’s meager “child support” payment and I had about $200.00.  Canadian.  Wheee!

So, our appointment for the orthodontist was today at 3:00.  I had it all planned out.  I would go to work then attend my own doctor’s appointment, go home and have a short nap.  I woke feeling quite refreshed when I woke up and filled with plans for the day.  Gonna be a good Momma and provide for my child.

I realized I lost my bank card.  No worries, I had to cash my expense cheque anyway.  Plenty of time, not really realizing exactly what time it was.

It was lovely at the bank, as the teller remembered me from the last 4 times I needed a new card.  Cashed my cheque and I felt positively rich!

I had told Carly I would meet her at 2:45.  I finally checked my phone for the time.  3:15.  Her appointment was at 3:00.

I lost half an hour or more somewhere in my day.

She called me just as I pulled into the driveway of the school.  I parked and she came and found me.  I was mortified by what happened.  I pulled into a parking lot and called the orthodontist about rescheduling.  I was going to start explaining about the onset of menopause to the young woman at the other end of the line but as soon as I started I received at WHAP on my arm from my sweet offspring who has gone without her top retainer for a week.  Now, with a no-nonsense, non spinny, professional mother attitude, booked a new time. Five minutes later I sheepishly called back to book another because I forgot I work for a living.  By the end of the last conversation I had with the appointment-booker-person she was speaking to me in a tone of voice reserved for the types of people who, um, have a hard time understanding things.  You know; she was slowly enunciating each word in her sentences.

Okay that was done, let’s go spend some money on my kid.  I’ve learned to love shopping with Carly.  She is so thorough and I can wander away and she always finds me. (Who’s the kid?  Who’s the grownup?  I dunno but I have the money, honey.)

First place was a big box sports store, highly overrated and overpriced.  Knee guards, $35.  Shorts were $45.  We bought the knee guards. thinking if we find cheaper ones we can simply return these ones.  After this there was Wal-Mart, who had nothing so it was to the mall we went to next.

Carly was so hungry and wanted a teen burger.  I had a muffin for supper.  Supper still cost us about $10.  My fortune was dwindling.  We wandered the mall.

My hips are old now and don’t like to walk for too long then they usually take up singing lessons with my back.  Throw some hot flashes in there and you have a groovy new dance that should never be seen in public.

Yet there I was.

Yeah, I’m a man-magnet.

After a while, with no luck at the mall and me trying hard not to notice my exploding bladder (well, almost) we headed in the general direction of the bathrooms.  As I hobbled towards the blessed porcelain of utmost relief and happiness, I left my daughter with a loonie and massaging chairs.

I made a beeline for those same chairs after my business was complete, with my own loonie in hand.  Took me a few minutes to understand what Carly was saying about the chair I was sitting in and about to load the coin into.  I think I was a little excited.  Finally, I grasped the words “That one doesn’t work, Mom” said with much eye rolling.  I went to the next one and plugged it.

Oh. My. Goodness.  I want to marry this chair.  I want this chair.  Oh, Oh, Oh.  I enjoyed it so much I barely noticed Carly escaping around the corner, intent on her Blackberry, pretending she is alone.

I think I was drooling.

When I opened my eyes there was a man standing there staring hard at me.  I gave him a thumbs up.  He grinned and held out his own loonie.  Oh. Sadly, he meant it for himself.  Bye bye chair.

I felt much better (I actually typed “mush” by accident. now that’s funny!) so we explored a bit more of the mall.  Nothing in the way of shorts though; it’s hard to find the right fit for my tiny girl.

By the time we got back into the car to start our search again, I realized I was almost, really close to being, out of gas.  $20 more dollars for that. The $10 from the day before only lasted, well, a day.

We tried another place where all they sell is athletic gear.  They do not sell women’s shorts.  At all.

Carly’s friend texted her from the store where they found shorts galore.  I would like to add that I am so happy other parents are going through this.  Carly would not hear of her friend’s dad buying Carly some shorts and me paying him in the morning.  It was worth a try.

The store was on the other side of town and I THOUGHT I knew where it was.  After a few kilometers I realized I didn’t.  I pulled onto a side street where Carly and I worked our BB’s and downloaded apps and all that stuff to figure out where the store was.  My phone’s map guide thingy kept taking me back to Winnipeg Beach which is not even close to where we actually were.  I guess it has fond memories of it too.


Carly was the one who let out the screech of triumph and started giving me directions.  All I could hear was “North” and I actually did know where that was. The rest of her instructions were just a jumble.

“How do you know this way is North?” asks the little brat.  I explained that I just knew and to please trust me.  I heard mutterings of “grumble appointments, grumble, grumble, getting lost, grumble” and succeeded in ignoring this vortex of teen-aged negativity sitting beside me.

Yay.  We did it; we found the shorts. $35.  They fit her tiny frame and they were going with her to volleyball fame.

Home was sweet to get to except for the stench of whatever was going on in the hallways of our building.  I never smelled anything like it in my life!  Carly and I had to cover our noses and mouth and find our way to our apartment with watering eyes and stomachs that wanted to retch.  Unfortunately, the unholy smell had seeped under the door and into our apartment.  We stood over the plug-in air freshener until we got our bearings and stuffed up the crevice under the door and sprayed air freshener everywhere.

Now I sit, drinking the last 2 glasses of the wine that the lovely woman my son loves bought for me.  I will worry about the retainer fee tomorrow and whatever else has to be paid for later.

Right now, I feel good.

50 Lessons in 50 Years

There are always things to learn.  I want to know more about more things. I also want to do better at the things I do.  I want to just be better.  I don’t think I’m progressing fast enough though.

I realized a long time ago sometimes I have to stop, look back on what’s been going on and realize how far I’ve come. How much things have changed.  A little credit, if you will.  Two weeks ago, August 22, I turned 50.

And I’ve come a long way.  Baby.


Thanks to the inspiration that came from Karen of Dreamin the Life blog , who, by the way, does not even know me.  I also stole wisdom from many others because they helped me to know what my truth is.  Hopefully I’ll word everything properly so it makes sense.

(Note: Many of these lessons have been acquired from other sources along my journey, and are not original thoughts.)

1. The first pancake always turns out badly.

2. I don’t have to get along with everyone, or make everyone like me.

3. Love makes me stupid.

4. I always have at least 2 choices, even if I don’t like the choices.

5. Sometimes even women need to learn to MTFU.

6. Most people operate out of selfish motivations.

7. It’s rarely about me.

8. Diet Pepsi is evil.

9. It’s okay to break the rules, as long as you are good enough not to get caught, and you aren’t hurting anyone.

10. “Be kinder than necessary ’cause everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.”

11. There’s three sides to every story; his, hers, and the truth.


12. Time doesn’t heal anything; it’s what you do with that time.

13. Complaining and blaming other people doesn’t help anything, and makes for miserable company.

14. Everything in my life is my responsibility.

15. I train people how to treat me.

16. There’s always hope.

17. I can always be grateful for something.

18. I’ve never made a mistake because I learned a lot of lessons.

19. My brain is complicated but not unmanagable.

20. Showing emotion is not a sign of weakness.  Knowing when it’s appropriate is a skill.

21. Google can answer anything.

22. Being silly is one of my favorite qualities in a person.

23. Honesty is always the easiest route.  It shouldn’t have to hurt though.

24. You should never stop learning, or trying to be a better person.

25. Worrying is useless, unless it motivates you to take action.

26. When people show you who they are, believe them.

27. There is only fear, and love.  And one of them is way more fun.

28. Love seems to be way over-rated

29. Verbalize what my relationship means to me – to my lover, my kids and also to me.  Listen.

30. Support my children’s dreams

31. Hold your children as much as you/they want while they are young.  They grow fast.

32. I’m responsible for the two wonderful children I have and acknowledge my role in raising them.

33.  It’s real easy to kick myself when I’m down.

34.  I’m a lot stronger than I ever thought possible.

35.  I am more vulnerable than I could imagine.

36.  I have many talents that haven’t been developed yet.

37. I love to write so much I get lost in it.

38. Beautiful things take my breath away.copying prohibited

39. Beautiful words will last a lifetime with me.

40. I love it when the man I love hugs me from behind and whispers in my ear.

41. I’m terrified of becoming my mother even though I admire her.

42. I’m more forgiving than I should be.

43. I don’t like to be told what to do.

44. I cook better than I realized.

45. I’m impressed when people ask me for my advice.

46. Discussion of ex-gf’s and ex-bf’s should be avoided at all times.

47. It’s cheating as soon as a man is doing something with another woman that he wouldn’t want me to see, hear, read…

48. Banks are people too!

49. Dieting does not work for me.

50 Life isn’t fair.

Good thing I’m just 50.  Whew, that took some work and soul-searching. Thank you to every person I love, who has taught me something, or encouraged me along the way.

Feel free to add to the list in the comments below.

Now This is Love

I’ve started two posts this week and gave up after only a couple of paragraphs.  That is not like me at all.  When I start writing it’s very difficult for me to stop so usually I don’t stop until it’s done.  This one I know will be complete because I had an epitome and didn’t get a headache this time.

I’ve been feeling pretty down the last few weeks because everything happened at once as you may remember here.  Well more things happened and I’ve been more than a little overwhelmed.  Been teary all day; all week really.  Fragile is a really good word.

The end of my work day/week came finally.  I don’t really look forward to not going to work because then I have way too much time on my hands.  I am trying to rectify that by looking for another part-time job. I start volunteering next week too.  Meanwhile I just had to get through an evening with the Sisters and go through the Trunks with them.

These are two of my estranged sisters and I was absolutely dreading this day.  Not only did I feel enormously uncomfortable in their presence but going through the trunks from my dad’s house would make my already emotionally crammed brain/heart/soul go over the edge, lithium or not.

My parents were married almost 63 years when my mom died.  They were bitter enemies during most of that time and indifferent to each other a lot of the other years.  The first time I saw my dad kiss my mom was when I was about 8 and it was because I asked him to.  After that, though, he did kiss her goodbye semi-regularly in my presence.

Going through two trunks, filled with cards, letters (hundreds of letters), pictures (hundreds and hundreds of pictures) all starring my young, beautiful and very-much-in-love-with-each-other, parents.

My sisters and I read a few letters, looked at many pictures and tried to sort it all out.  Sitting in a storage locker, where my phone didn’t work and my discomfort starting to border on ease, the metal walls of the building echoed with our screams of laughter and gasps of disbelief, but held back its announcements during these delicate expressions of grief.

Memories came to life and new ones were discovered.

These two trunks were filled to the brim with stuff.  These are metal steamer trunks that took two really strong men to lift, never mind carry.


The question kept coming up; what do we do with all of it?  It broke our hearts when we threw some things away that wasn’t obviously garbage.  I offered to sort it all out, put the letters in chronological order so it would be easier to decide what to do later.

Reading all about these parents I never knew was amazing.  How much love they had for each other, the pet names and the silliness.  Later on, hardship and, well, life came into their world, all before I was born.  I am the seventh out of eight children and did not know them like these two older sisters did.

We three had to make some decisions that were very difficult about several items.  We managed to talk it through, came up with some brilliant ideas.  I left the storage locker with my few mementos clutched under my arm and with my phone squawking crazily.  My heart was lighter than when I went in.

I drove away knowing I would have to stop before I got home.  I had a lot to process.  One of the things I realized was that I HAD seen my parents very much in love and devoted to each other.  It wasn’t while I was growing up though.

It was when my mom was dying.

She would wait for him, watching the door of her hospital room.  He would go there a couple of times a day to see her.  I had been going to see her twice a day too, before work and right after.  These last two weeks of her life, I could see a light in her eyes I never saw before.  She would scramble out of her bed before I could help her because she just knew he was coming.

And then he would be there.

They would hug.  Kiss.  They hung on.  Then they would talk to each other.  They would sit together and laugh at each others stories, tease me and share coffee.  I would go to the cafeteria and get them both coffee, leaving them alone.

The only time I have ever seen my dad cry was when we were all with her as she died.  Silent tears.  I never knew if it was regret for all the lost time or grief for losing the woman he just found again.

I started up my car again, wiping my face, driving carefully. I got home, took my little pile of memories and went into the apartment.

I heard little footsteps and looked down the hall.  There was Lucky.  Our cat.  I hadn’t seen her since the middle of July.  I barely got the door closed when she rushed me, like a dog.  She put her feet up on my legs so I stooped down to pick her up.  She followed me everywhere I went the rest of the evening.  I missed her so much.

I missed being missed that much.

I may never have what my parents had but I know I had something close.  I think that’s going to be good enough for me.

The past should be the past. It can destroy the future. Live life for what tomorrow has to offer, not for what yesterday has taken away. The NoteBook


Okay so a lot of you won’t relate to this.  Maybe some of you will and won’t admit it and think I just might be a whiny baby cry baby.  I don’t know what to do.  At this point I feel pretty desperate.

Why can’t I stop thinking about a man who was so callous towards me.  One who acted like I was the most amazing thing in his life then turning around and treating me so disrespectfully.  What is it about me?  He’s not the first and I hope he will be the last.

To not hear a word from him is a shock, even to Dr. G. who has a real handle on personalities (he is a PSYCHIATRIST).  I don’t want to think the last year was a total farce, I just don’t believe it.  The realization of that possibility, though, makes me feel like a total fool and I am left cold.

I don’t want to write this.  I want to show everyone how much I learned without being cynical and self-serving.  I want to appear strong and brave and cool. I don’t want to sound bitter and weak and needy. How does one do that?  I have had years of counselling, 23 to be exact, so I know a thing or two or 22,349 things.  This just isn’t going well tonight.

I know I said I learned a lot from this relationship and I did.  I learned about loving someone and being able to consciously and unconsciously overlook their faults and mine too.  I didn’t even notice anything like faults until they were shoved into my face.  I loved being able to tell him constantly how smart, sexy and capable I thought he was and being surprised to know these were things he had never, ever heard before.  I believe he may have actually started to see these things in himself. I was proud I could be there with all my support and love that was all for him.  I showed him how much I appreciated him and all the things that were him, baggage and all.  I embraced his, and what he thought were, his shortcomings; i.e. his weight, his lack of money etc.  Those were things that did not make the whole man but only part of him.

For some reason, these good feelings I had made him push me away.  I finally had to realize there was only so much I will take.

I learned joy, true joy, whether we were together or not.  Because he lived an hour away I was able to learn to do a lot of things on my own.  I had his encouragement, perspective and advice  to help me along.

I learned how strong I am and not just in making day-to-day decisions.  But in knowing what is right for me and my family.  I waited  “four seasons” just like my counsellor advised me before making any solid commitments, like living together.  I had to look at factors I was never faced with before and question whether I thought it would be truly wise to uproot myself, my daughter and my cat to a home so different from ours.  The opposite of ours.  This was not about me.  It was never about me.

I made the right decision.

There is pain psychologically.  I am having so much trouble focusing on the day-to-day things. Work is next to impossible.  I am not at my best, not even close.  Every amazing idea I think I have for a new program or something is met with polite voices and a change of subject.  God, I hate when that happens.  It usually means the end and I love my job very much.  So, for now, I shut up and just be what is expected of me.

Physically I have the usual aches and pains with more pronounced pain in my back and more headaches.  This is all because of my back and my being unable to do simple exercises such as walking.  10 minutes is it.  I have gained more weight than ever before; Dr. G. is talking about changing one of my meds as it seems to be the culprit for my increased appetite and consequent ballooning.

That should be interesting.  He is holding off, though, because of the increased stress in my life.  Thank goodness for that because if I was not on the dose of Lithium I am on currently, I don’t know how I would be getting through this at all. I see Dr. G. every two weeks so he will assess me intermittently.  I’ve made all my appointments with various other physicians as per his orders.

Of course I think, how could I meet a new man looking and feeling like this?  Who cares?  Not me. I can’t.  I won’t anyway.  I don’t want to at all.  I’m not even close to being ready.  I have no desire to be vulnerable like that again.  There is no way I can even imagine talking to a guy, let alone having someone see me naked.  So the increased weight is a good incentive not to meet anyone.  Not that anyone is knocking on my door. I don’t want anyone to, I need to gather my wits about me.  This is unusual for me, for those that know me.  I have always had a man in my life.  Always.  So it really is time for a break.

This has been a triple whammy really; that man I lived with, that man I was friends with for many years and took a tumble with, and Dennis.  Funny how he is the only one with a name.  That should change in time.

So now’s the time for a good, long break and enjoy being me.  I am eager to make new friends, get to know old ones and try some new things.  I enjoy the lack of someone else’s drama in my life.  I am spending more time with my kids now and it’s so much fun.  With me not working my second job its amazing how much time there is in a day when I’m not waiting for someone to come on-line or call me.

So, I wrote it all down, I feel better, now how the heck do you feel?

Mulva in Her Dress

I just remembered a remarkable story I must tell you all.  Some of my readers may already remember and know this memory. I wanted to get it written down before I’m fif…fi.fffff…um, not 49 anymore and could maybe start to forget things more than I already do.

So going waaay back to when I was still working at my former job, a little money came our way so the staff could partake in some fun and hopefully help to prevent burnout.  Burnout was common at my workplace as we worked with persons with HIV.  This story happened before the magic cocktails came out which changed the face of HIV/AIDS.  In our half of the world anyway.

So the mighty ED (executive director, not erectile dysfunction) (ahem) selected a team, a committee, a bunch of suckers if you will, to plan a magical FUN DAY with the emphasis being on the FUN.  There was a scavenger hunt and all kinds of things I now forget.  I do remember how hard my co-workers on the committee slaved to make sure everyone had fun.  Except the committee didn’t have any fun.  They were too busy.  I want to acknowledge them now.  I bow to you all and kiss your lovely feet.

Now here my memory is leaky; I know I volunteered to do stuff but I think I only ended up doing one thing.  And that’s where Mulva came in.

I think this was a time where I was at the height of my bipolar disorder and definitely on an upwards slope and not close to crashing.  I was/am totally addicted to the internet and all its lovely sites and sounds.  One day I came across a sight that was sort of Magic 8 Ball and sort of Tarot Card that would “read” you by sensing your fingers on the keys.

With that, I had an amazing, impossible idea.

I decided to transform myself and become the glorious, mysterious Mulva, Seer extraordinaire.  I wore the only dress I had at the time, a long black number with an outer layer of lace.  I know it sounds glamorous but on me it just made me look frumpier.  It was long-sleeved and made from some heavy material.  I added RED lipstick, generous amounts of  mascara and dark blue eyeshadow and liner.  This would have been in July.

Mulva showed up at work with many scarves, rings and attitude.  She took off her shoes almost as soon as she got there.  She was shown to the office where she was to weave magic from the laptop assigned to her for just that purpose.

Okay, I cannot write in the third person.  So to continue…

It didn’t take me very long to realize how damned hot it was in there.

My first habitué was one of the women who worked in the building.  Well, they all worked in the building. We got down to business.  I was so cute and made noises and chanted.  I had her in stitches.  Then I asked her to lay her hands upon the laptop.  The seer on the site spit out some drivel which I tried to interpret it for her.

Then came the next part of my schtick.  The night before, I had my then 5-year-old daughter help me paint small, shiny, smooth rocks with nail polish with random designs.  She did insist on making a wish for the recipient before and after painting the rocks.  She did this by closing her eyes, holding the rock close to her heart and smiling as she wished in her head.  So cute at that age.  Then they turn 14. I was intrigued what this could mean for the chosen.  I was also wondering how I was going to get all that nail polish off my little girl. The rocks were then put into a velvet bag for me to take to work the next day.  Carly kissed the velvet bag with its magic stones before she went to bed.

So this lovely nurse reached into the bag to find the rock that was magically especially for her.  I was to interpret the rock and the enchanted design then give my impressions to her.  I babbled about something, we laughed some more and out she went with me right behind her with my scarves fanning her aura out of the room to make room for the next person.

Drama queen is Mulva indeed.

So this went on for hours.  I was really hot in my stupid dress (I wore pantyhose too!  What was I thinking!?) and I was getting tired.  Someone thought to bring me water.  Then a Diet Pepsi.  Better.

Then the most remarkable thing happened with the 5th or so person who was looking for some psychic satisfaction in their lives.

I didn’t know her at all.  She just started working there and didn’t work in the same section as I so our paths rarely crossed.  She wasn’t at all gleeful as the others had been.  She was very serious and rather intense. I reminded her this was all in fun and she said great.  She wanted some fun.

Something hit me then.  A picture of a young blond man, laughing in a photograph.  Then, not being able to help myself, I closed my eyes and saw water and blond hair and tasted salt in my mouth.  My eyes were still closed as I spoke. I could hear the woman’s silent tears.  She asked me to please tell her what the man looked like.  I described the man in the photo: his appearance and how he was so happy.  He was looking down at someone not shown and holding out his hand to them.

The room was so hot.  I could feel the sweat running down my back and even in my closed eyes.  She blew her nose and handed me a tissue for my own tears.  So much for all my make up.  I opened my eyes and looked into hers.  They were the same as the man in the photo.  I waited, confused and even shocked a little by what just happened and by her reaction.

“My brother drowned last year while he was sailing off the coast of BC.  I’ve been hoping and praying that he’s happy and safe and will be my new baby’s guardian angel.  You described him perfectly.”

I told her, besides the water vision and everything, I thought the photograph I saw showed where he is now; happy and content to watch over his family.

She left after I read her stone.  I had to take a break for a while and headed for the door.  When I stepped out into the hall, at least 30 people scrambled to their feet, all waiting to see the Mysterious Mulva.

I saw everyone that day and there were more odd things.  One more that stands out in my memory is of one of my co-workers.  I knew already she was retiring so that wasn’t news.  I didn’t bother with the laptop any more since it just became silly; there were some serious things happening here without it.

So she selected her stone, held it in her hand, and closed her eyes and made a wish.  This is what I had everyone do.  She handed the stone to me.  It was so hot, I dropped it.  We both laughed nervously but I let her pick it up.  Once again I reached for it.  Before I could complete the gesture I said “Africa”.

Taking the stone in my hand I looked at her.  Her face was non-committal. Then I studied the stone. I said to her, “I don’t know why I’m thinking this but there’s a new baby coming to your house.  I think the baby is from Africa and has the most beautiful dark skin.  But the house I see isn’t the house you have now, it’s a different one.  You’re moving soon.”

I looked at the stone again.  “That’s all I have.”  I looked at her expectantly.

She didn’t say much, just thanked me and left really fast.  She looked angry.

Things were winding down.  I was exhausted and amazed at how strong my intuition became the more I used it.  There were countless examples throughout that day.  I was so hot and couldn’t wait to get out of that dress, burn it then sue the pantyhose company.

My co-worker came to my office a week later to tell me that they were indeed moving; buying a house big enough for her, her husband, her married daughter and her husband.  Her daughter just received the news that the baby they hoped to adopt was going to be arriving from South Africa at the end of the month.

I had no words.  She said she had wanted to make sure I wasn’t messing with her, that I didn’t already have the information before we met.  She really thought I had been and it made her pretty angry.  The clincher for her was when the news came of the arrival of her new grandchild after our session.  No one knew of this arrangement with the house and the baby  except for the 4 people involved.

So what does it all mean?  I don’t know.  I don’t care.  There are lots of things that have happened for which I have no explanation for.  But that’s just it.  I don’t need one.  It’s just one of the things that have been with me for most of my life.  It was just never so strong as when I saw 40 or 50 people in one day and really focused.  I made my intuition work overtime.

I’m glad it worked and it worked for them.

One day we’ll talk about when I see dead people.

PS  I’m taking my meds and they are working fine.  Lighten up a little.

Guilt and Distance

I’m guilty.  This is something I would do it all the time if I had the chance.  I don’t know why I give in to this ridiculous offense and why I do it so often.  Many of my friends have been my victims and still love me anyway.  I’ve actually gotten better the last couple of years.  It wasn’t until last night where the urge was so strong it was almost irresistible.

Yes I can admit it. It’s sometimes an overwhelming feeling and I just have to do it.  Last night I almost picked up my phone and drunk dialed Dennis, my former boyfriend of less than one week.  That would have been a disaster beyond disasters.  I didn’t do it.  I was drunk but remained strong.

It started with my son, Jay coming for supper and bringing his new girlfriend for us to meet.    They brought me, the momma, wine.

Not just wine but a magnum of wine.  And wine in a can.  Yes, we had wine in a can.  The bottle and the can hit me very, very hard.  Not like CLUNK in the head but, well yeah, like CLANG in the head.  Like I said earlier, I was so tempted to call Dennis up and let him sweet talk me.  Well, I don’t think he would have sweet talked me at all but he might have taken the opportunity to make me more miserable than I already was.  At that moment he had the power to do that.  When my pickled brain actually realized that this made sense I could lose the urge more easily when otherwise I would normally give in to it.  I’m pretty proud of not calling. I know I’m still very vulnerable so I won’t take that risk again.

Carrying around a cell phone for the last 12 years was when my drunk dialing problem really came to light.  I called friends countless of times and at all hours.  Hell, I called everyone in my directory at one time or another and some of them weren’t even friends.  Most people who would be with me at the time would do nothing to stop me.  They would just sit there and watch and cheer me on. I was pretty entertaining trying to not sound drunk while trying to engage the sleepy and very polite person in conversation.

Usually the jig was up within moments then I was “on”.  I called one friend with the excuse I couldn’t find my wine glass anywhere and expected him to know where it was.  He was great and sent me all over the house and the yard until I finally found it, half full, by the wood pile in the yard.  Huh, didn’t have a clue how it got there.  It was 3:30 in the morning.

I blush.

So if I have your number I’m sorry. So take heart that the urge has diminished with time.  I plan to stay away from the booze until my frame of mind is better.  Yesterday I felt pretty down, lonely and useless all day.  I even had to go home from work early.  I napped in the afternoon and waited for my kids to get home.

Lots of times booze is my friend and I have fun and I dance and everything is in moderation but on days like yesterday it was my bitter enemy.  I know better than to drink that much with my meds and when I’m already feeling so lost and sad.  I’m glad no harm came of it.

No one was dialed.  This time, no one was hurt.

The new girlfriend still thought I was great.  I thought she was pretty great too.  For heaven’s sake, she brought me wine in a can!