Tag Archives: wishes

A Good Week…


Well, this was a good week.  I’ve discovered a few more things about myself, some of which I have to face and get a handle on.  Most though, were good or,  at least, good enough.

I finally started walking outside as the weather has been cooperating and the ground has dried up nicely.  I think this is the main reason for my good moods.  shoesExercise is so important for one with bi polar as it helps to even out everything.  I found myself becoming bored at home for, really, the first time in over a year.  Thinking about my future brings a dose of reality.  Dr. G and I are talking more and more about finding work.  I keep imagining myself in a tiny bachelor apartment after Carly turns 18 (1 more year!).

She and I have been talking about her post secondary schooling.  She is eligible for so many scholarships and bursaries as well as student loans.  Hopefully she’ll be able to stay living with me when she goes to school but she’s not so sure what she wants to do yet.  Take a year off, move out with a friend or stay home and go to school.  So many decisions she has to make and it’s so great to have so many choices.

Now for a change of subject…I’ve always known I have an addictive personality.  I don’t mean people get addicted to me although, hmm.  Nah, that’s not what I smoking-PAmean.  It’s like when I used to smoke like a chimney until I quit in 1987.  I quit while I was pregnant with my boy too but started again right away.  Wow, I smoked a lot, more than 2 packs a day sometimes.  I loved everything about it and, as I said in other posts, I still dream I smoke almost every night.  Booze was a problem too at different times in my life. I pretty much stay away from it now.  I smoked weed in the latter part of high school and as a young adult until I was pregnant with my son in 1985 then never touched it again.  It was hard to quit so if people try to tell you there are no withdrawal symptoms from marijuana, they’re lying to you.

My ongoing battle has been with food since I turned about 20.  Food is always there.  One needs food to survive.  It’s starting to get bad again mostly because I live next to a 7-11 and they have everything that’s not so good for me.  I’m making super-bad decisions when it comes to food.  Chocolate is my weakness and diet Pepsi.  Chips for supper sometimes.  They’re cheap and filling.  The nights with chips are the nights my daughter eats at work so I don’t feel so guilty.  I never figured I was an emotional eater because when things are bad I just can’t eat.  It’s when things arefood pyramid going well I eat more and badly.  I guess that would qualify as emotional too.  I need strength to get through this.  I don’t want to gain weight after losing so much.  Dr. G is thinking it might be the new medication I’m taking at night to help me fall asleep.  Although I’m on a really low dose one of the side affects is weight gain.  I’ll be watching.

My mom’s cooking was pretty basic and good most of the time but sometimes kind of dangerous as she wasn’t too careful with health standards; leaving pots of soup or stews on the stove for days and serving them to us; meat left on the counter for way too long and some stuff just tasted bad you know? We all got the “Grand Beach Flu” at the same time and it was usually after her “Grand Beach Stew”.  I love her dearly but not the bugs that were in the flour that went into the gravy or the stuffing or the cakes or whatever.  I survived though and I’m sure it was why I was so skinny until I moved out.

I did so well with money this week.  It helped that the government sent out our quarterly GST refund so there was more money to work with.  I actually had food in the pantry and the fridge and still had money in my wallet by the time Child Tax Credit came in.  What a great feeling buying a bus pass and veggies and fruit for my girl who looks in the fridge and says, “Wow”.

My plan is to walk every day for at least 1/2 hour and increase it.  I need to invest in a good pair of runners as Carly and I are sharing mine right now (!).  I know.

She needs them for work and I need them for volunteering so one of us is using them all the time.  Hopefully at the end of the month I can get another pair for her.  My shoes are actually too big for her.  She’s a size smaller than me.

Shoes I should be getting...

Shoes I should be getting…

So the plan is to walk, eat better and get new shoes.  Those are pretty good goals for a week…

Shoes I want...

Shoes I want…

 

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Where Some Things Came From…


Ipain the ass always thought the teacher who influenced me most in my life was my junior high math teacher, Mr. Burns.  I had to learn algebra and I didn’t even know my times tables so I was a real pain in the ass.  He was so patient and kind and always offered to help me outside of class. I know between the two of us there were mountains of frustration. He was definitely a good influence and helped me enough to know algebra for at least the 5 minutes at a time I needed to pass his classes.  That’s how long it stayed with me after I left there too.  High school math was just a lost cause.  We don’t talk about that at all.

timestablesMr. Burns’ left arm was deformed and totally useless and I remember it would just hang there or he would simply toss it or swing aside if it got in his way. The other kids used to make fun of him at first until they could see he had heard it all before and could care less what was said about him.  He had a tough skin that one did.  He was smart and didn’t talk down to the kids.  Then there was nothing but respect from everyone.  It was my first time respecting a teacher too.  He was a really good teacher but I still don’t know my times tables.

The teacher who did influence me and my life the most was Harry (Hersh) Zetner who was first my anthropology teacher and then my English teacher in high school.  At that time I really didn’t know anything about the world, certainly nothing like what Mr. Zetner taught me.  Mr. Zetner was Jewish and lost a great deal of his family in the Holocaust.  I never knew there was racism and hatred in the world like that until his classes.  Or anything so horrible as the Holocaust. It was unbelievable but I believed it.  My eyes were opened so wide I could never close them again. The books we read, the films we saw never left me. I think there was only one or two  Jewish girls that I knew of in my classes and in my friend circle but I never knew they were until Mr. Zetner called upon one of them to talk about some of her family history.  I was fascinated with her after that. It would never have occurred to me that anyone was different from anyone else I guess.

My parents would be into the stereotypes of different races and cultures and I don’t even want to write down what those were here. They, of course, learned it from their parents and so on.   I was truly fortunate that it didn’t rub off on me which is so surprising. I found myself, as an adult, correcting them quite often about labeling people and trying to get them to see people as individuals.  They always looked so surprised there could be any other way to look at things.  How the heck did I turn out this way? Don’t get me wrong.  My parents were kind and tolerant people and very simple folk is the only way to describe them.

Oh and I never seem to stop learning about the indignities genders, many races, and cultures face.  It’s trying to understand the “why” of it all.

Anyway,  Mr. Zetner died in 2002 and I re-read his obituary today.  I found out more about the man then I knew before and I never doubted he would do more wonderful things after I left the school.  After he became ill and could no longer teach, he spent his time going to schools talking to children and teens about the Holocaust and how it could easily happen again.  I think he opened a lot of other eyes.  We need more people like him.

He was a truly sincere and hard-working teacher that taught me a lot about life and its cruelties but also that there are good souls out there leading the rest of the world to a better way of thinking.  I learned there can always be another way. He is one reason why I’m so interested in how the mind works and where people came from and where do we go from here.  And just, again…why?

I admire him because he took something he had a passion for and knowledge of and made it his life’s work to educate the world as much as possible.  He wanted to end the stigma.  This is what I want to do about mental illness.  I think it might be something for me to look at in the future and I very well think I could do it.

I have an appointment, finally, with the Canadian Mental Health Association’s intake worker, after 6 months of being on their waiting list.  They are going to get me more organized and help me get back to work.  Or maybe speaking too?  I don’t know but it’s on my list.

Peace and love.  Please.

 

 

How’d That Happen


I know, I know.  It’s been a long time since I parked myself in front of my clanking, deformed laptop.  Well, really, I guess, it can’t technically be  called a laptop when there’s a monitor hooked up to it.  Oh and everything is green on the screen most of the time; a reminder that Spring is here I suppose.  I have a pretty good excuse.  my TV, internet and phone was cut off.  They still are but I went to the competitor and had just the internet installed.  Both Carly and I feel better and more connected.

So where did I leave off last post?  I finished the dating series and that was a lot of fun to write.  It helped me get over some of the horror terror ridiculousness of the experience.  As I left you back in November, I did indeed meet someone.  I’m still with him in fact.  He is a lovely man.  I have no idea how long it will last but I fully intend to enjoy being in a mostly healthy relationship for the first time in my life.  It’s early but hey, I have a very nice fella.

I’ve not been in a great space the last few months. Several factors; including, pre-menopause, menopause (all in one week! No, no just jokes.), my never-ending stress with finances, a full-fledged teenaged daughter who rolls her eyes at me so much she fell down once. Or twice. No, I didn’t push her.

I think this post will be about what the heck is happening around me.  I’ve been noticing behaviours among the human race lately that leaves me quite confused.

The Bus

I take the bus to work pretty regular now.  I work days at least half the month and parking costs more than a week’s worth of groceries.  I actually started liking the bus.  If the bus hits a car it isn’t my fault.  What I don’t like is the fact that I have developed some pretty painful, well, pains, in my left knee and I have tennis elbow in my left arm.  None of this pain comes from riding the bus though.  One of them maybe, in fact, a sex related injury.  I don’t know for sure though. I don’t have a cane ($) so I guess it isn’t obvious that the lurching, obese, sweating woman with the grey starting to peek out from her last home colouring job could really use a seat.  Although, the other day a young guy about 17 got up immediately to give me his seat.  Well that was nice but then I just felt old.

A real gem I meet on the way home.  She is really beautiful, about 20 with skin the colour of milk chocolate and big dark eyes.  For some reason this girl is desperate to get on the bus FIRST.  The first time she elbowed me out of her way so she could get on ahead of everyone, I simply figured she had to pee or she had a period accident.  Well the next day, she tried it again.  I stood my ground even though I almost went sprawling in the street.  I held my place and climbed on before her.  She was then at the back of the line and was trying like mad to sit between 2 large persons on a 3 seater.  She did it on one cheek, almost sending a seatmate into the aisle.  I think I would have to pass gas constantly if I was sitting with her and just not let her up.  I’m deaf to your cries of mercy.

Hey.

My fella is the gas king.  He says he farts when he’s happy.  I think he must be really happy.

I’m having fun imagining him on the bus.

Do you understand how fit one must be to ride the bus? I use muscles I can’t remember having while standing on the bus. After the first couple of weeks days I learned not to hold onto the pole with my left arm as it hurts like hell.  I had to plant my feet and anticipate the driver’s every move and be ready not to go flying into someone.  Which I did a couple of times.  Or my backpack did. I could feel sweat dripping down my forehead from the strain; my leg would cramp at night.  This is not pole dancing, people!

Me

I was in quite a funk for a few weeks which is weird as I was also happy because of the fella and all.  I don’t think I’ve had such conflicting feelings in my life.  I would talk to Dr. G. and we would discuss meds and what was going on but I just couldn’t shake it.  I was not so far gone that I couldn’t fake a better outlook than I felt. I noticed, though, the people I work with have been avoiding me.  I was never one to make a lot of friends but this went a bit beyond that.  One night I made a conscious decision to go into work the next day and smile.  Smile at everyone.  I did.  In no time at all I was interacting with my co-workers again.  I felt better and eventually I wasn’t faking it so much.  Someone invited me for coffee, I sit at table and people come and sit with me and include me in conversations.

I really felt that I was the key factor in coming back this time.  I have to focus every day to accomplish some success.  I am still under brutal stress along with my bi-polar symptoms so this is not always an easy thing to do.  I’m pretty tired.  I’m now looking for a second job, hoping it will relieve some of the stress.

I seem to be making the most stupid mistakes.  Corrie figures it is the menopause.  I feel so vague and my spelling and typing are atrocious.  I always took such pride in those things.  My memory has leaks in it.  It started as a little drip, drip, drip but now it kinda like pin holes in a water balloon.  Lots of pin holes.

Now I hafta pee.

My Car

We will have a funeral for my beloved Mustang soon.  There is no way I can afford to fix it or buy another car.  Losing my Role and Identity of “the-mom-who-you-call-to-take-you-and-all-your-friends-wherever-and-never-say-thank-you-to-her” will be an earth-shaking event for some.  I will miss the freedom and independence a car gives me.  I could shop when I needed to and do other errands without it taking all day.

Oh Wah.

My girl turned 15, is doing amazing at school.  I just cannot believe how well she is doing considering how hard its been for her the last couple of years with me.  Sometimes that “who’s the parent and who’s the child” happens.  She deserves so much more than I can give her now.  Financially and emotionally, I am definitely challenged.  I love her so much and want to give her more.  Not just stuff, but of me.  So fragmented.  I am lucky to have her.  Even when she brings a stray kitty home.  It lasted a week and even she was saying it had to go.  The cute little thing was driving me, well, nuts.

My boy turned 27 and is going to be a dad.  I’m going to be a gramma.  We are so thrilled about this new little being.  Turns out it’s a girl and should be born around my birthday in August.  Jenni felt her move for the first time this afternoon.  Marie will be one of her names.  I’m so honoured about that.  So much to look forward to!

So this is a good start on the road back to writing.  As always, feel free to leave a comment. I’ll be back soon.

Naps Are Not Allowed


I am overwhelmed by the response my last post had on you people.  What an outpouring of love and support from those who have never met me and only know me through my writing.  I am humbled, more than I was before.  More truthfully, I am affected like you can’t believe.  I’ve had emails, twitter DMs and, of course, comments here on my site, all rooting for me to win and get back into the land of living. Today, I opened the curtains for the first time since “Black Wednesday” as my beloved sister calls it.  The sun came pouring in, warm and friendly against my skin.  I even let the cat sit beside me on the window sill (it’s a no-no as “no pets allowed” in my apartment).  I feel more connected with the world than I did a few days ago.  Hell, better than yesterday even.  Today was the day to get moving.

I woke up in time to take my daughter and her friends to a VERY early volleyball practice.  I wore my PJs as I planned to go right back to my bed.  Which I did, setting my alarm first.  I had an appointment at Sara Riel for 10:00.

Now I thought I had the right day, time and location as had I entered it all into my phone immediately after talking to the intake worker last week.  Today my mind was still in a state of disorientation and, man, was I ever shaking.  I googled everything so many times and even wrote down the directions (my printer is out of ink) and left in plenty of time.

I found the part of town the building was in easily enough but there was no such address.  My worker, Christy, had said it was on the fourth floor at 410 Kenny.  There was nothing but garages where I was.  I circled around but everything remained the same….wrong.  I pulled over and tried to google map it on my phone.  I could not see the little map-thing, it was so tiny.  I was in the right spot but it was still wrong.  Checked the time.  10 minutes before the appointment.  Luckily I had programmed their number into the phone already.

Try getting a real person.  I tried 4 times.  Not even pressing “0” brought me to a real live breathing, direction-giving person.  I finally went through the directory until I found someone named “Christy”.  No answer, voice mail.  ARGH.

I couldn’t hold the phone any more as my quaking was making me do ridiculous mistakes on the keyboard.  Times like this I wish I still smoked, even though I quit in 1987.  It would give me something to do while I tried to figure out what to do.

I eventually reached Christy, who informed me our appointment was supposed to be the hour before, the address was at 210 not 410 and she was on the second floor.

I had the day right.

I arrived, finally, signed in and didn’t know what to do next, only because there was no one there to greet me.  I didn’t dare venture out of the waiting area so I started reading posters and calendars. A staff person approached me and asked who I was seeing.  Then she asked me if I was cold.  I wasn’t, as I was in the middle of a quaking, stupid hot flash.  What a sight I must have been.

Finally I was sent upstairs, no elevator, where the first staff person must have warned the second staff person that I was pathetic/suspicious and she waited for me at the top of the stairs.  I was led into a waiting room where I was told to sit in a specific chair.  I sat in the other one.  The woman grinned at me and asked me if I wanted anything to drink.

Well. the other chair was closer and my wobbly legs were giving me trouble.

I met my worker, Christy.  She’s wonderful.  She had to fill out a form about me but we talked about so much other stuff that didn’t make it onto the form.  She gave me facts, she showed me what was real in my thinking, and she really seemed to care.  She recognized my skills.  She tolerated my shaking, asking, just once, if I was coming down from anything.  She knew how the world worked for someone with my mental illness, that bipolar disorder did work in the regular world and I would be able to work in that world too.

She was shocked at the things I revealed,   She had heard it all before, of course, but the speed of my transference, my show of  trust in her and how matter-of-fact I could tell my stories. She felt I should do public speaking.

I left there, two hours later, still shaking but hungry for the first time in days.  Carly and I had a lovely supper later.  We went and saw my son for a while when I got a call from a very nice woman I met recently.

Sue.  She has written comments on my blog fairly frequently lately.  She’s one of the people who had contacted me with words of support outside this blog too.  She was trying so hard to help.  Tonight she came by with a bag of groceries (it had ice cream in it!) and a heart full of hope and experience for me.

We talked about many things we have in common and some things we don’t.  As most of my readers may know, I don’t seem to attract friends very easily but Sue has gone above and beyond.

My sister called tonight too, trying to find a way for me to make money from my writing.  Books maybe or have my blog make money.  I just said it was a lot of work right now.  I would love to write a children’s book on her three-legged dog. 

So there you have it.  I’m ill and most people still accept me.  Apparently in the working world this will be true as well.  I was told by the wise Christy that most of her clients are encouraged not hide the fact they have a mental illness.  This would be a new thing for me.  Not to be ashamed of who I am and also know that this is not all who I am.

I hope tomorrow is good too.  I’m very busy and hope I have the energy to go all day.  Hard not to take a nap/  I see my GP tomorrow for test results she wants to talk to me about.  After that is orientation at welfare then over to my son’s to weed his yard as he is putting his house on the market right away.  Then Carly and I are off to a program she started in Grade 6, meant to get kids into university who have the smarts but not necessarily the means.  They regroup them in Grade 9 then again in Grade 11, offering them paid work to do capacity building with kids in Grade 6.  She balked at first but I’ve been talking up university for a while, looking up courses.  She’s headed in the right direction.  I only wish I had the opportunity when I was her age.  My life would be very different now.

Oh yes, I had a chance to make a train wish this morning.  All I wished for was for something good to happen.  I also found my mother’s rings that I couldn’t find before.  I put on one of them and have been wearing it ever since.

Tomorrow,  I think I’m ready for you now.

To learn more about Sara Riel click here

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.

Sigh.

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.

Pills


Ha!  The title fooled you.  This is NOT about my meds.  This is about whether I would want to stay in a made up world forever and never know the difference or would I choose the opposite; wake up in my bed and find an excuse for what just went down.

Yes.  Blue Pill.  Red Pill.  Made famous on the Matrix but the concept has been around for decades.

This is what was presented to me courtesy of Word Press Daily Post:

If given the choice, are you the kind of person who takes the red pill, or the blue pill? Why? When do you willfully do the opposite?

“You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.” -Morpheus (from the film The Matrix)

Background on the red pill vs. blue pill here.

So what would you do?  I would argue that I would need more information before I could make a decision like that.  I think it would depend upon so much.  How do I know my choice won’t bring me a worse situation than I was already in?  Could things get any better or any worse?

So in reality there is no red or blue pill.  To take a pill to change my reality?  I won’t even go there.  There are choices though.  All the time.  Why I make some of the ones I do baffles me sometimes.  Baffles my sister too.  Not about her choices but about mine.  I go around and learn, around some more, learn some more but it seems to never end.

Some pretty bad crap happened to me and Carly in the past year, mostly due to the cruelties and thoughtlessness of other people we used to trust.  I really thought we were not going to make it and, for the first time in my life, I was scraping.  Not even scraping by.  This close to living in my car  and I would have if I didn’t have Carly.  This close to totally losing it all.  And myself.

I had a couple of things that were positive and worked on making them work for me.  I had my amazing daughter and grown son, I had my amazing sister Colleen, a very lovely fella, my gift of writing and my gift of honesty and common sense.  Hmm, more than a couple.

Without those things I never would have taken the blue pill.  That’s what I think happened.  If I took the red pill would I have still been trapped inside of that unfriendly world?  I didn’t care to explore it any further, thank you very much.

So I took the blue pill and woke up one morning and things were better.  My wishing on trains helped too.  My dear people/things are still dear to me and my talents brought me respect and time.  I was able to discover gifts I never knew I had and how to use them.  Well, and not being afraid to use them.

Worthwhile getting here but OUCH when you hit your head on the rabbit hole.

If I Could Turn Back Time (feel free to sing it out loud!)


Now this is a picture of innocence.

Six very young women with the whole world at their feet.  They figured they had already seen it all.  This was before babies and marriage and illness and death.  They just started working at “real” jobs and most of them were living on their own. Some had already met their life’s partners, some never would and yet some would meet several.  Almost all had babies and one or two had to do it the hard way.

Little did these wonderful young women know that, not long after this picture was taken, most would never see the others again. The friendship that held these spirits together would dissipate into demands on their time, distance, the needs of others and some of them their very souls.

Never again will these young women experience the unique friendships as only young woman can because of sharing their lives since the beginning of Junior High School.  They had their first drinks together, shopped, talked, dated boys, cried over broken hearts and sad songs.  They tried cigarettes and pot.  Not all did but those that didn’t would always keep the others company.  They went places that would have been beyond their reach if they didn’t have each other.  Parties and socials, dating and family angst.  Their strength and weaknesses were just peeking around the corner.

The real ugliness and beauty that would be their lives had barely begun.

A lot of living in that picture.

The ferocity of the love they felt for each other would evolve; it may not include the women in this picture but this love was a springboard, a foundation of the love they would share with their future families and mature friends.

Where are they now?

I’m the one in the middle.

My heart aches.