Category Archives: whine

Christmas list?

This post was originally published in December 2010, but I thought it could use an update. Even though I am working now, I still can’t help but feel like crap because half the time I forget things that are easy for everyone else to remember and I seem to always be doing something wrong. I’m not saying that because I get constant criticism, although it feels like that sometimes. I’m saying that because I’m oversensitive and tend to respond to things like the tones people use when sometimes it’s better to remember that that’s just how someone talks or that this isn’t a good time of the year for me in general. It’s better this year than it has been because I’m working and making money, although I do wish I could see my family and friends more often. Anyway, back to your regularly-scheduled whine-fest.

My husband asked me what I wanted for Christmas. The first things I thought of were a Bible with the Apocrypha in it and/or one of my favorite party games. Of course, we’d actually have to *have* parties in order to play said game, but that’s something else entirely. I can think of a few things I’d like, but I don’t think they would be something he could give me. For instance:

-He can’t give me my brain back. One thing I hate to no end is that I feel like I am ‘slipping’…everyone else ‘gets’ things that I don’t, and I keep missing and forgetting things. I don’t want to immediately say it’s because of my bipolar and/or ADHD, but that’s probably the most likely scenario. My doctors have told me that it affects the way I think; I test lower on IQ tests than I did before because my brain works differently (well, assuming it works at all 😛 ). Seriously. I’ve been told over and over again that I ‘don’t think’ or whatnot, but that’s not true at all. I *do* think, I just tend to think so fast that nothing really ‘sticks’. My last few employers-you know, the two jobs I was fired from in two weeks-can attest to that. It’s just so frustrating, because I feel like everyone else is smarter than me and understands everything much better. Maybe this is true, but maybe I’m just *different*, not any less or any more. I don’t know.

-He can’t help me lose weight. Maybe he can in terms of eating more vegetables and less fatty stuff, but he can’t exercise for me or stop me from liking things like soda and cookies. I feel like I’ve nagged him enough about that in terms of getting him to buy veggies and fruit for produce, although truth be told I really don’t push anywhere near as much as I could. Still, I know that money has been really tight for us and that he feels like the stuff we can afford is often the stuff that’s really the worst for us. He doesn’t say it like that, but that’s what it comes out to. We *do* get canned veggies but It’s up to me to actually *eat* them, or to choose them over other stuff when I have a choice.

-He can’t help me get motivated to do, well, anything. I have so many projects I’ve started that I haven’t finished and don’t really know if I will. A children’s book, a novel of sorts, a few other writing projects…at least I’ve had some stories published, although they haven’t sold yet and *ahem* aren’t the type of stories you let your dad read. I have a couple of tabs open in my browser right now for things I keep meaning to read, but somehow never get around to it because I’m so easily distracted. Maybe at some point I’ll stop playing Facebook games long enough to read the stuff I’m supposed to read on Beliefnet for my job, and Slater, get off the counter,then do some writing I get paid for and Dr Phil’s head looks particularly shiny today….oops, got distracted again.

-He can’t get me to stand up for myself the way I need to.

-He can’t ward off my depression or make other people do stuff with us. They have their own lives and I totally appreciate that, but sometimes I just get bored with the same old thing. Boredom often leads to depression with me and, since I don’t work outside of the home, I get bored quite a bit. It’s gotten better now that we’ve paid the car off and I’ve been doing more stuff at church. Just to get out among other people-especially more women since most of my friends here are men-really helps. Even so, sometimes I still feel really “meh”. Which leads me to my next point:

-He can’t make me feel like less of a piece of crap because I get disability even though a lot of the time I feel as though I can work. I know from experience that my mental issues cause major problems and my physical issues aren’t much better, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling as though I’m one of those “sponges” or “cheats” some people rant about. I would never, ever say that to someone else, but I’ll say that to myself. Hmm.

He can’t change the past, which is ultimately what it would take to ward this off.

That’s just it. He can’t change the past. I know he would if he could, though. The only thing that can be done is to get to be more comfortable and content with the way things are and to try and improve things from there, but that’s something I have to do for myself. I have to ask God to help me with that every day, if I remember. That’s really sad, ‘if I remember’, but the point is that he can’t do it for me because it’s not *for* him to do. It’s for me, with God’s help. And I need all the help I can get.

*sigh*

Maybe I should just stick with new jeans and some bras to replace the ones I can’t wear anymore. That would require a lot less explanation.


Soil or thorns?

Warning: A very long and crappily-written whine sits below. I’m not sure if “crappily” is really a word, but there’s a first time for everything.

I was reading an essay from on Bible.com talking about how to know if you’re ready for the Second Coming. I don’t normally think about the Second Coming at all (which the article said wasn’t a good thing), but I thought of it because there was a “blood moon” last night-a lunar eclipse that made the moon look blood-red. I’m not sure how that happens, but that’s not really important. I’m not sure I’m ready, or if it’s really something I should think about.

Anyway, I got to a part about soils, which reminded me of the parable of the seed sower…some fell among the rocks (didn’t take root at all), some in the thorns (that took root but it wasn’t very deep and could easily be removed), others fell into the fertile soil, took root, and grew. There was a point in my life that I would have considered myself one of the seeds in the soil…hungry for the presence of God, devout in public and in private, taking root and growing. For the past few years, however, I’ve felt like a “thorn”. Or, in keeping with the story, “among the thorns”. It’s not that I lack faith or have stopped trusting Jesus so much as that I don’t think about Him as much as I used to, don’t always keep myself from sin, don’t read/pray as much/go to church/seek to serve.  When I do pray, it’s more of a short babble than anything else. I can’t remember anything in the sermons or liturgy in church, assuming I’ve paid attention to begin with. That bothers me, but what bothers me the most is that I used to feel God’s presence and love very deeply. Even if I wasn’t bouncing up and down in my seat with joy, I felt a deep happiness and peace. Other times, I felt a deep gratitude, a deep feeling of reverence and felt the significance of everything around me.  But I don’t anymore. I don’t feel much of anything. I know that I should appreciate things like that, should be hungry for God, should seek Jesus and put Him first in my daily life. That I should make Him my master. And yet, I sometimes see church or Bible study as an obligation, a duty. I don’t have the excitement I used to, or the deep love and need I see in other people. I don’t feel the “high” I used to…come to think of it, I don’t feel the “low” either. I don’t feel anything.

I spend a lot of time reading online and playing Candy Crush on the couch with Grey’s Anatomy or Bones on in the background. I know I should do more, serve more, write more (for pay or otherwise), but I don’t. I end up wasting time without intending to. I’d say it’s depression, but I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel hopeless or helpless. I don’t feel anything.

Do you see the pattern here?

I know it’s possible that it could be my medications at work. I know it’s possible that I could just be deeply bored. It’s just frustrating that I can’t tell if this is the reason I feel so numb or if it’s become I’ve become a “thorn”. If I have either moved to different soil or never was that deep in the first place.

Is it possible for someone to become a thorn, to be choked by the weeds in the rougher part of the soil when you used to be deeper?

I know I should do something about this, but I know that the moment I get off of the computer here I’m either going to take a nap or go back to watching Dr. Phil while playing games on my iPod. If I start a “program” or whatever, I know I have a tendency to forget about things and never finish what I start. I haven’t finished a book in months.

My friend K told me that the fact that I know I should be feeling something, know that something is significant and powerful means that I’m on the right track. She also says that my bipolar/ADHD could be to blame, since one of the major problems is the inability for anything to “stick”. The Velcro doesn’t work. I wonder, though, if this is true or if it will be seen by God as an “excuse” for an unwilling, seared and stale heart or if this is part of what’s behind my numbness.

So I ask anyone reading this-is it possible for someone to have thought they had taken root when they actually hadn’t? Or maybe they took root, but they weren’t as deep as you thought? Is the numbness something all Christians deal with, or is it just me? I know that my current Episcopal church is nowhere near as emotionally-charged as the Baptist/Pentecostal/non-denominational churches of my past*, but I used to think that was a good thing. Is it really? I have no desire to go back.  Does my lack of thought and feeling mean I’m not really saved, not ready and never will be?

And how can I get that “about me” section below every post to stop showing up? 🙂

Thanks for indulging me.  I’d better give Haley (cat) her pill and let her out before she plots her revenge on me. Assuming she hasn’t already. 🙂

 

 

*In fact, the numbness was part of why I left. It was the inability to feel God’s presence, the feeling that He hated me and left me, that pushed me to seek treatment for bipolar. I’d suggest this was the case now, but I’d have to feel something to do that. Oops.

 


The Darkness Within

Forgive me for the randomness and rambling, but I’m in a strange mood I can’t seem to shake.  …not even with ridiculous Bell Biv DeVoe songs, so you *know* must be bad. 🙂

There have been a lot of really messy things in my life, things I can’t always explain. It’s been easy compared to others, but sometimes I feel as though my own heart, my own mind is taking revenge on me. I know it could be worse, but sometimes it is hard for me to see that.

I have an illness-bipolar disorder-that can make me feel as though there were something else inside of me, controlling my thoughts and actions. I do not want this thing to define me or rule my life, but there are times when I can’t really do anything else.  An ex once told me it was a “demon” or “spirit” that needed to be cast out, which I will explain in another blog post. I would normally say he’s full of shit, and I still think he is, but the truth is that it can sometimes feel as though he is right.  He might have meant well but the truth is that he doesn’t understand this, and probably never will. I don’t fault him or anyone else for that, especially considering the fact that sometimes I don’t understand it either. I can read all the self-help books in the world, can spend hours in prayer, do all the things that work for everyone else but for whatever reason, it doesn’t always help.  I’m not saying these things are useless by any means, but they are not the “cures” they are for other people. Again, I don’t want it to define me but I can’t think of any other reason. I’ve had some form of depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember, but I thought it was just normal pubescent angst or a weakness on my part.  As positive and friendly as I usually am, medication has been my saving grace. Surely there is some reason God is allowing me to have all this-in fact, I know there is -but damned if I can figure out what it is sometimes. People give me advice, and I appreciate their concern. There are just some things that people-however well meaning they might be-simply won’t understand until they have been there themselves.

Sometimes, though, I hear something that speaks to me…that tells me, this person knows what’s in my head. This person has ‘been there’…

I love Nine Inch Nails* for this very reason…listening to Trent Reznor and people like him can be very cathartic. Anyone who writes like this just knows:

Hurt*

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real

The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

 

So I don’t run afoul of any copyright laws, you can hear and read the rest here: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/johnnycash/hurt.html

And as if that wasn’t dark enough:

Something I Can Never Have

 

I still recall the taste of your tears.
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.
My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore.
Scraping through my head ’till I don’t want to sleep anymore.

[Chorus:]
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I’m down to just one thing.
And I’m starting to scare myself.
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I just want something.
I just want something I can never have

Again, copyright: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/nineinchnails/somethingicanneverhave.html

I’m not quite as dramatic as all that, but it is a strange comfort to me to have this sort of thing to refer to,  if only for inspiration for my own (crappy) writing.

*This is the Johnny Cash cover; his voice just fits so well.


Things I hate the most

I’m usually a positive person. At least, that’s what people keep telling me. I’m very open and accepting when it comes to people who are different from me. I rarely get angry and, if I do, it’s for a damned good reason. I have many friends who tell me that I have a gift for making people feel calm and secure. I care a lot about other people and am more than willing to put myself out for them, even if I don’t expect them to do so for me. I found a great therapist on referral from a great church family and truly enjoy being part of things. I guess that’s what makes tonight’s mood-and ensuing blog post-so frustrating. Here goes:

The Things I Hate The Most:

-I hate how I can’t focus. I remember so many times being told that God is the answer for all that ails you and that you’ll never thirst again after knowing Him…blah blah blah…I don’t mean to sound dismissive, and at one point I really believed it to be true. As it is now, though, I want to believe, I want to pray, I want to behave and have a clean heart, but I can’t focus long enough to understand anything that’s being said to me, in church or in the Bible. I just can’t get focused, which means I don’t understand things, which means I get frustrated, which means I try to learn more but I’m still unable to focus…you just want to give up. Yes, I have ADHD. Nothing I’ve taken for it beyond what I already take for bipolar helps much.

-I hate how I can’t feel much of anything, positive or negative.

-I hate how I always feel something’s missing, but I have no idea what.

-I hate how I don’t know if I have the type of faith or closeness to God that I need and, if not, what to do about it. If I ever *do* figure out what to do and start on something, I never finish it.

-I hate how hopeless I feel sometimes. About whether we’ll ever have kids, because that means we have to do what it takes to have kids and that never happens, so I feel like I’m getting my hopes up for nothing. That’s just as much my fault as anything else, though.

-I hate how I can’t stop comparing myself to other people no matter how hard I try. There are so many unexamined “shoulds” that constantly come up-your marriage “should” be passionate, because otherwise how will you ever have kids? You’re in your late thirties , so you “should” have had kids by now. You “should” have money in the bank, even if your medical bills and time away from work have dried up all of your savings. You’re smart, so you “should” have a good job, a strong career. Instead, you get Social Security disability and sponge off the system. At least, that’s how other people see me.

Actually, screw that. Screw that and screw them. I know for a fact that Social Security disability is damned hard to get and I didn’t even apply until nearly a year or so after it was originally suggested by one of my doctors. No, instead I kept trying to work but ended up getting so confused and frustrated and upset because I couldn’t “register” what people were telling me. I “broke” one night waitressing and walked out because I couldn’t handle it. In another job, I nearly had a panic attack and had to leave. I get disability because I need it. I worked outside the home for 15 years-since I was 15 and had my first job-and paid into the system the entire time so, if anything, I’m living off my own contributions. Most people I know know this and thus don’t bitch about “the system”, but I have not hesitated to explain it to people in the nicest words I possibly can.

-I hate how easily I get obsessed with things or people because I don’t have much else going on.

-I hate how I get discouraged so easily.

-I hate how I wallow in self-pity when other people have it much worse. I hate how I can’t appreciate what I have because of my own expectations of how I thought things were going to be when I “grew up”. It’s not always like this, but I hate it when it is.

-I hate the way that sometimes I can’t read blogs or see Facebook photos from friends without feeling sorry for myself for not having children. All these pictures of kindergarten graduations or tee-ball uniforms or kids’ soccer games make me feel like I’m missing out on something great all because of something that happened years ago that I don’t remember. The truth is that I have no way of knowing whether or not I would have had children if not for my getting hurt, us having go through all of our savings and all the other things that went on.

Yes, as a matter of fact, it *does* all go back to the wreck. There have been times when I wondered what possible reason God could have had to save me from the death or dismemberment pretty much everyone who’s seen the cars (you can see them here, about halfway down the page) says should have happened. I know there’s a reason for it and that I should be grateful to be alive. I *am* grateful, but sometimes I find myself wondering what things would be like had all that not happened. I know that’s not healthy, but there you have it.

 


Yet Another ‘Kid’ Post

I’ve been thinking a lot about kids lately. Yes, we’ve been here before, but I guess this is something I won’t get over anytime soon. The loss of my cat Daniel Tiger and the fact that it’s a brand new year has me thinking about things in a different way.

I’m 35-am I too old to have kids? Is it too late for me? Some people say yes. Quite a few, actually. Some of those people wouldn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground, so perhaps I shouldn’t worry about what they think.

Is the fact that I spent the last seven years with an injury that made it impossible for me to have kids (or do what it takes to make a kid), only to get it ‘corrected’ when I’m past the age some doctors would even *see* me God’s way of telling me that I shouldn’t reproduce? My doctor once said that he would refer me to a high-risk OB if I got pregnant because of my age and my bipolar disorder. The last one, I can see. As for the first…I remember telling my husband that I was concerned that the accident and our financial situation would make it so that we would never be able to have kids, even if we wanted to. We were prepared for the possibility that we might decide not to have kids because of our medical issues, et cetera…we might not like it, but at least then it would have been our choice. It wouldn’t have been because some wreck I don’t even remember getting in took that choice away from me.

Related to the above, am I an ingrate for being bothered by what the injuries made impossible when I’m pretty damned lucky to be alive at all?

Sometimes I feel left out because a lot of the women in the circles close to me all have kids or their lives center around kids. I feel like they’re in some sort of club that I will never belong to and that there’s something wrong with me because of it. That they will always feel like I am ‘left behind’ or something and will never *quite* have enough in common with them again. As much as I love my guy friends, sometimes I want to be around some women. I know it’s not a ‘contest’ or a ‘race’, but sometimes I still feel lonely because I’m in this weird place in life that most of my girl friends back home are in too, but no one here is.

What am I missing out on? Sure, I’m not having to wake up at 3am to change a diaper or spend hours connected to a breast pump. But I’m also not going to have anyone to take to a first day of school, anyone to make tuna salad sandwiches for, anyone to take prom pictures of, anyone to send off to college…you get the idea. Will my life still feel complete? Will it *ever* feel complete again?

I just finished writing a pilot for a kids’ sitcom. I got the idea from Amazon Studios and, while I’m not sure anything will come of it, I am grateful for the ‘push’. You see, I have all these stories going around in my head that I have yet to really do anything with. I sometimes will mean to write them down, but get distracted or discouraged halfway through (or sometimes not even *that* far). I had a great time writing this story, but it bothers me that I keep running through the final scene in my head. In it, the main character (a 14-year-old boy) is really excited because he just asked out a girl for the first time and she said yes. I keep thinking…you know, I’m not *quite* old enough to have a kid that age…well, not unless I had him at age 21. That’s still pretty young. But what if the kids I write about in this sitcom project are the only ones I will have? I love my cats like they are kids, but what if they are the only kids I have? Will I be okay with that? I’m really not sure anymore.

What if I don’t make a difference in the next generation? I’m not around my nephews much, although that isn’t necessarily through any fault of my own. We do go to see my sister-in-law’s little boy as much as we can since he’s here in town, but all my other nephews live at least 8 hours away in Virginia. I’d be with them all the time if I could.

Maybe I’m just being selfish.

Maybe all these questions are my mind’s of telling me that maybe I’m more ‘desperate’ than I thought. Or that I don’t have anywhere near as much time as I think I do; that I’m too old now to think of things in ‘maybe someday’ terms. I don’t know. Is this what a “midlife crisis” is like? When I hear that phrase, I think of the middle-aged man in the red convertible leaving his wife for a woman who’s barely legal. I don’t think of a questioning blogger who has no clue what she’s done with her life.

We talk about adoption, but we haven’t been able to make any sort of plan because everything hinged on being able to have the hip replacement surgery. We had to save up to afford it, we still have bills surrounding it, and it wouldn’t be fair to a kid to have a mother who couldn’t play with him or take proper care of him because she was recovering from surgery. Even if there were other people around to help, he would still need *me*, and I couldn’t be there. If that makes sense.

Maybe this is God’s way of having us wait for Him to bring the right child into our lives. Maybe there’s a child yet to be born (or already born to someone else) who we will be uniquely suited to parent. Maybe this is God’s way of having us wait for Him…period.

I don’t know. I never do. Hopefully I will someday.


RIP Daniel Tiger. :(

Daniel 2:21
I lost my beloved kitty Daniel Tiger this week. 😦 He was fine up until a couple of weeks ago, chasing the other cats and poking me in the face with his claws so I’d get up and feed him. At 5 am. Then, suddenly, he started having problems with balance. He scratched my husband out of nowhere, kept knocking things over and couldn’t stand up straight. He wouldn’t eat, so we had to feed him with a syringe. Wet cat food stinks, but he’s worth it.

We took him to the vet two Saturdays ago, and she said that it was one of two things-vestibular ataxia caused by an ear infection, or a brain tumor. She didn’t know which, so we started treating for the former with steroids and special food. He seemed to be getting better for a while there but, about six days ago, he took a turn for the worse. Poor thing was in so much pain he was growling, and he was never a very ‘vocal’ cat. We took him to the vet this Wednesday and had no choice but to put him down. 😦 It was freezing when we went to bury him that day…very fitting.

Anyone who says that you can’t get attached to a pet because they don’t have souls of their own is full of it. That kitty had been with me through moves, breakups, relationships that never should have happened and all kinds of awful stuff. He’s been with me for ten years, making him the longest relationship I’ve ever had with a ‘man’. 🙂 Is that sad, or what? He always seemed to know when I needed love and was more than willing to give it. Everyone who met him loved him. I missed him the moment he died, and I’ll miss him for a long time coming. I know some people will say, he’s just a cat. Maybe so, but he was like a child to me, possibly the only type I’ll ever have. I hope not, but we shall see.

Rest in peace, Daniel. I’ll see you again someday.


Fact, Fiction and Frustration

I’m a housewife (I guess that’s what you’d call me) and generally like my life, but sometimes I get a bit bored. I know that boredom isn’t necessarily a *bad* thing-hey, if nothing’s happening, that means nothing *bad* is happening, right? Either way, I’ve always been the kind of person to make up stories in my head to entertain myself. Sometimes I have a really hard time getting to sleep and, creative person that I am, these things just come out. I’ve written a few into screenplays (or scenes that I will expand on later), but I don’t really think they’ll go anywhere other than my hard drive.

It’s strange, but the vast majority are romantic comedies of some kind, with the lead character either being me or based on me. Sometimes it involves being a character in one of my favorite TV shows and screwing the guy I’m drooling over, but sometimes it’s just about my life. Or, what could have been my life.

That is not meant to be any reflection on my marriage because I have the best husband in the world, but for some reason I find myself thinking about past ‘missed opportunities’. I wouldn’t want to change the way things are now, but lately I’ve been fantasizing about what it might have been like had I taken a chance with a guy I knew and liked while I was in college. This guy was someone I met during the summer break, we really liked each other and said so in no uncertain terms, but nothing happened because I was dating someone at the time.He found me and we spoke on the phone a few months after all of that, but by that point we both knew that ship had sailed. One of the stories I’m working on is a fictionalized version of what might have happened if I had broken up with my then-boyfriend and dated this guy. It probably wouldn’t have worked anyway for a number of reasons and I love the one I’m with. I don’t regret losing my virginity to my husband, and that’s probably something I couldn’t have done if I’d dated this guy. Even so, I’ve wondered, what if? Turning into a writing project is a good way to make something positive out of it, but sometimes I feel troubled for thinking of it at all. It’s almost as though I *want* to be that confused, naive person I was when I was 20. Instead, I feel old.

Another story I’ve thought of is about someone completely fictional meeting ‘me’ and us having a nice date and great sex. There’s no ‘what if’ here because, like I said, it’s not about anyone real. My question to myself is, why do I even *think* of stuff like this? If I have a happy marriage, why are sex and romance on my mind so much? Why does my heart still sometimes lrace when I think of it? Am I a terrible person?

I just thought of something. The common denominator in both of these stories is that I’m 20, and that I’m single. When I was that age, I was dating someone who turned out to be a really bad influence. I’m not talking about him getting me to drink or do drugs or anything, but he was very manipulative and emotionally/psychologically/sexually abusive. Of course, I didn’t see this at the time, but damned near everyone else around me did. There were guys who wanted to date me but didn’t because of him, people who probably would have treated me much better in the long run. I know I would have been a much happier person had I not been being jerked around and treated like crap by someone who didn’t seem to have much respect for me-or women in general, for that matter. I knew that it wasn’t a good relationship, but I felt like I was in too deep to get out and that I just had to ‘take the good with the bad’. I *did* actually break up with him once for a few months but ultimately came back because I was afraid to be alone and the other guys I had been dating all backed off. And, of course, he swooped in to play the hero and be all sweet…as it turns out, he had been harassing the other guys behind my back. This is *definitely* more than the usual ‘ups and downs’, but I didn’t know exactly how bad things were. I hadn’t had much experience in relationships and frankly never thought what I wanted was very important.

The fact that he used my religion against me sometimes by telling me that I had to forgive him and take him back because the Bible says that we have to forgive others or else our own sins won’t be forgiven. That should have also been a clue but, like I said, I didn’t see it for what it was at the time. The truth is, we never do. That’s the whole problem-people in abusive relationships stay because they don’t feel like they deserve/can get any better and, even if we don’t like what is happening, we think it’s something we just have to deal with. If I’d seen it for what it was, stuck by my decision to break up with him the few times I tried it and/or stayed away from him entirely, I could have spared myself and a lot of other people a world of hurt. That, and I wouldn’t have written so many run-on sentences talking about him. 🙂

I’m wondering if these fantasies are my mind’s way of trying to get that time back-time that was wasted with the wrong person and could have been much more productive had I known then what I know now. I’m 35 now and sometimes just want to be young again, but am very happy to be with the man I am with now. If I had dated the guy I met one summer or anyone else, I might not be with my husband, which would be tragic in and of itself. We’re not meant to live in the past, and I guess there really *is* a reason for everything that happens. I just wish sometimes that I had a clue what those reasons were.

Oh well. At least I have good fodder for ‘villains’ in my stories.


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Child of the human condition

Notes from the U.K.

Exploring the spidery corners of a culture and the weird stuff that tourist brochures ignore.

My Ears Are Tired

where the days are long, but the years are short

Express With NeJae

Express Yourself ..We Care

New Pollyanna

Ne'er-do-well on the loose

Lorelle on WordPress

utorials about WordPress, blogging, social media, and having your say on the web.

~Idiot Writing~

'all our lives are a poetry - awake our souls.' ~ Battling the hypocrite within ~

Cee's Photography

Learning and teaching the art of composition.

J is for Jardín

A Rapid Cycling Kinda Life: Because Sometimes I Thrive & Sometimes I'm Dormant

Da UGLY Ducklin

The life of PASSION

blahpolar

bipolar, uninterrupted

Not A Minute To Waste

About life. Anything and everything about it. Let's talk.

Marie Abanga's Blog

My thrilling life as an author, coach, consultant & mental health advocate...