GIVE ME A "K"

I realize the aging process isn't easy for anyone. Who isn't what they were 20 or 30 years ago? I think what I fear most about aging is the possibility of becoming like my mother. Although her general health is good, she refuses to do anything. She expects everyone to do everything for her and when asked to do simple things, she just doesn't do them unless she's nagged into it. She takes no responsibility for anything nor does she participate in anything unless I make her participate.

Everyone shrugs their shoulders and looks quizzically to me for answers. Why is Rosalie the way she is? To date that seems to be one of life's unsolved mysteries! Answers? I've got a few for anyone who really wants an answer. The aging process is as hard or maybe even harder on the people who care for the elderly. Yes, I love my mother. It's why I'm here, but most days I feel like I'm being punished. Some days, I feel almost tortured! So is this my atonement with the universe?

Isn't being a good daughter enough or does this rite of passage and role reversal come with a price tag filled only with sadness and frustration? I believe my mother wants to have some major health problem and won't be satisfied until she does. I believe my mother thinks everything should be on her terms and takes things for granted. Regardless of what I say or do and believe me I have said and done everything humanly possible, it makes no difference.

I know there will come a day when I no longer have a mother. When I look towards that time, my heart is filled with regret because what should be a time for her and I to have a strong, loving relationship instead is more like a Custer's last stand. Each step forward always comes with two steps backwards. Maybe if I were 2 or 3 people I could stay completely on top of everything, but I turned in my Wonder Woman boots several years ago.

A simple trip to have a pedicure and manicure yesterday turned into another grim reminder of just how resistant she is towards anything I suggest or ask her to do. I helped her take her shoes off and rolled up her pants legs before she got into the chair to have her pedicure. While rolling her pants legs up I got a well placed slap in the face. Oh, it's wasn't one that might rattle my teeth, but it stung enough to make me brutally aware of her intentions to do nothing.

To make it easy for her I placed a bottle of body lotion on the end table next to where she sits many months ago. The bottle is sitting right next to the telephone and practically stares her in the face screaming, "PLEASE USE ME". I've tried to talk to her and tell her that her skin is dry and needs lotion on it daily. I've emphasized without it, her skin will eventually start to break down and get sores where the dry, flaky skin is. I've learned to assume nothing with her because unless I nag her to do even a small task like that, she won't do it. Needless to say, when I rolled up her pant legs staring at me was the skin of a reptilian creature.

Making a list of daily activities for her is out of the question because she has informed me that is an insult to her. So here I sit bitching about it on my blog...ain't life grand?

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for the week I'll be away on a cruise to the Virgin Islands in December.

GIVE ME A "C"

In the past, my impulsivity has gotten me into trouble. I'd like to think I've changed somewhat or at least, mellowed with age, but last Sunday while on my way to go grocery shopping, my poor impulse control reared its ugly head. There in front of the Walmart parking lot were two ladies in a pickup truck selling Shih Tzu puppies.

I'm by nature a cat person. Five furry felines call my house home. Yes, I have the potential to become that crazy old cat woman, but last Sunday on a whim, I bought a 3 month old puppy. I immediately named her Fenway. What else does a Red Sox fan name her dog? Believe it or not, she's starting to act like a cat. Resistance is futile the cats keep telling her and because she's outnumbered, I expect anyday now she'll learn how to purr!

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for the strong sense of love and compassion I developed towards all animals as a child.

GIVE ME A "U"

In the process of doing some much needed remodeling and repair work in my house, I discovered that Murphy's Laws are alive and well and have taken up residence in each of my projects.

1. Nothing is as easy as it looks.
2. Everything takes longer than you think.
3. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

It all started in the downstairs bathroom which originally was only going to be a simple job of replacing a couple of tiles that had cracked when my father had fallen on them. The box of extra tiles that had been stored in the garage were old, discolored and warped, but to save money I said, "do the best you can with what we have on hand." Silly woman! The job turned into a brand new tile floor, a paint job to match the tile and some plumbing which required removing the cabinets to get to the wall behind the shower. My downstairs shower had no more than a trickle of water pressure. After the toilet seat is replaced and a few other small details, the bathroom will be a thing of beauty!

Next, I came up with the brilliant idea of turning the den into the dining room. The den was virtually wasted space that no one used and I envisioned holidays meals with the entire family sitting around the dining room table in that room. What this visionary didn't count on was what seemed like a fairly simple job to level the floor where I thought the foundation had settled turning into the job from hell. The whole concrete slab is having to be busted up and the fill dirt underneath that has washed away (thanks to the lovely Florida torrential downpours) over 70 years since the house was first built has to be replaced (Of course, houses aren't built like that nowadays...thanks goodness!). Then a new concrete floor needs to be poured. Finally a self leveling mixture is used on top of everything with the finishing touch being either a hardwood floor or ceramic floor tiles to complete the job before moving onto the next room. What I've learned is that anything is possible with enough time and money! And what's a little rebar and concrete rubble in the grand scheme of things?

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for the patience I seem to always have and that my house isn't located over one of Florida's many sinkholes.

GIVE ME AN "F"

Over the past month or so I've tried very hard to focus my mind on other things other than my pain in my right arm. I've played poker, posted new entries on my blog, removed wallpaper and painted the bathroom and participated in life as normally as I possibly can. I've been to the doctor twice. The first time I was told I had tendonitis obviously, from all the tennis I play and was given Motrin to take for 10 days. Okay, when that didn't do the trick, I reluctantly went back. This time I was given an order for a x-ray of my left thumb (I have a small lump at the base of my thumb)and an order for physical therapy. The pain had increased and radiates through my entire arm and goes into my shoulder blade causing muscle spasms. I really need to give up playing tennis! I was also given a prescription for steroids to take.

Anyone with diabetes knows that steroids and diabetes does not mix well. After getting the Rx filled, I've decided not to take the steroids. In the past, the benefits gained from taking steroids haven't been enough to merit struggling with the elevated blood sugar it causes. I did, however have the x-ray done and attempted to have physical therapy set up only to find out that my insurance doesn't cover physical therapy. Why doesn't this surprise me?

I'm not too upset over the physical therapy issue because each time I exert my arm, it only ends up hurting worse. I have found that if I move my head slightly to left and rest my arm on top of my head, the pain goes away. Perhaps I can duck tape my head and arm in that position and then all I'll have is just the normal pain I suffer from daily. Experimenting with repositioning my head and arm leads me to believe that the true problem comes from my neck and/or back. And since I refuse to have anymore surgery to that area of my body, the name of the game is grin and bear it! That game I'm much better at than playing tennis!

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for being able to grin and bear it rather than letting out the primal scream I feel slowly brewing.

REMEMBERING MICHAEL - PART I

Each year at this time my thoughts seem to drift towards remembering Michael. Those thoughts were particularly strong this past weekend when I spent the weekend with Michael's oldest sister, Sandra. All around me were reminders of Michael. Even at night, I couldn't escape him because there next to me on the nightstand was a picture of him. I met Michael when I was 18. He was tall and tanned with long dark hair and mesmerizing green eyes. He told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. A lie no doubt, but one coming from him that I always thought he might have meant since he never had an agenda with me. Ours was a relationship that never transcended platonic boundaries except for an occasional stolen kiss here and there. His whole family became close to me for various reasons and on many occasions I was caught up in the weird dynamics that governed their relationships with each other. 

When Michael joined the Marines, we wrote to each other and saw each other whenever he would come home on leave. We always seemed to drift in and out of each other's lives. Whenever I thought of him, I always did so with a smile. He was the sunshine that warmed so many people's lives. In our wild youth, his sister and I used to accompany him sometimes to the gay bars in Pensacola. What stories I could tell about those times, but what I remember most is the love I always carried with me for him. We danced those nights away pretending that I was a drag queen, so I wouldn't ruin his reputation! What a goofy pair of friends we were! As we got older and moved away from each other, like many friends we didn't keep in touch like we should. He remained in my thoughts as I'm sure I did with him. As Michael's health failed and the end was imminent, I finally called Michael to ask him to forgive me for not being a better friend. In his weak, barely audible voice he said he forgave me. Michael died on Mother's Day 2005 and while I watched them bury my friend, I knew another piece of me was gone forever.  

Gratitude statement: Although death is an inevitable, I'm truly thankful for the time all my friends have been a part of my life. 

REMEMBERING MICHAEL - PART II

Christina, my daughter, accompanied me to Michael's funeral. She knew what an emotional wreck I was and she wanted to be there to support me. Many of Michael's family hadn't seen her since she was a little girl and all remarked what a beautiful woman she had grown into being. It was so good seeing all of them...like a long overdue family reunion, but the dark feeling of why we were all there hung heavy in our hearts.

As I hugged each one of them, I held myself together. Each one felt good to hold and my thoughts overflowed with so many memories of better days and laughter filled moments. My history with each of them seemed so interwoven with who I am now as a person.  I felt I was truly among not only friends, but family as well. We all managed to laugh as we reminisced about the good old days before the graveside service.  Johnny teased me like he used to do and I remembered back to when he and I first got involved many, many years ago. Oh, what a handful he could be and oh, how I once loved him!  Everyone seemed instantly amused as Johnny and I fell back into the witty banter that was part of our relationship long ago.

I was okay until I saw the coffin being removed from the hearse. At that moment the reality hit me...Michael was gone! Oh my God, he was really gone and all I had left were these memories clouding my mind. Christy grabbed ahold of me as she saw my legs start to buckle. The family had the coffin reopened so I could say goodbye to Michael. That scene and Michael's lifeless body will be forever etched into my brain. Theresa hugged me and told me Michael had always loved me. All I could do is say "I know" as the tears burned my face.

As Randy, Michael's younger brother stepped into the preacher role he knew so well, he began to officiate Michael's memorial service. The Blue Angels were practicing for an upcoming airshow so they kept making flyovers which made the full military funeral more spectacular. With each word Randy spoke, his love for Michael showered over all of us. Finally, he read a poem Michael had written years ago for his mother and as the guns were fired and the last notes of Taps were being played, my mind flashed back to a time when Michael brushed my long hair. Just for a moment I could feel him with me as I whispered goodbye.

Gratitude statement: I'm actually thankful for still being able to shed tears for the people who I have loved and who are no longer with me.

IGNORANCE & THE INTERNET

Okay, I've gotten lazy! I'll admit it! I thought I'd change my mp3 player to one that has a playlist on it and that randomizes the songs as people click on my blog. What I found out as I started creating the playlist is that there are no Pink Floyd songs in their database. And when I tried to locate Working Class Hero by John Lennon, I got an ooops, who's John Lennon? I did, however find Imagine by John Lenon...IMAGINE THAT! Come on people, typos are cool, but not on something like that. Typos like that make a person look completely ignorant and insult the artist.

I guess the moral of this little rant is that the grass is not always greener on the other side of cyberspace. In fact, I'm beginning to think that's where all the dillholes reside with their dial-up connections. So flog me for wanting to add a few Pink Floyd songs to my playlist! I like Pink Floyd and have been a fan ever since I heard "Careful With That Axe, Eugene" many, many moons ago somewhere in Providence, Rhode Island on a ferry boat that had been converted into a hang-out for hippies...another story for another time! I sure wish I knew the name of that ferry boat or could find someone who lived in Rhode Island and knows what the hell I'm remembering. For all I know, the whole memory is just a figment of my imagination. NAH! The memory of those giant speakers blasting music straight into my soul is far too real to be a hallucination and the blood curdling scream...it was real! Wasn't it? 

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful I can remember anything that happened 40 years ago in great detail. 

J&M BITCHFEST

What I'd really like to bitch about, I can't because it involves a lawsuit. Yesterday, I spent all day giving a videotaped deposition. I came home frazzled. My mind was racing and I felt in need of some TLC. Oh yeah! That's right! She's [me] in friggin' time out, so TLC wasn't going to happen. She [me] has this notion that she needed to take a break from men because she has impaired judgment. Isn't that fucking special? She [me again] might as well just wear a chastity belt. In the meantime, tiny twattlers have moved in and they have let the old love canal get overgrown with cobwebs and who knows what else is in there. The jolly Green Giant could have moved in and she'd [braindead me] never know! From the valley of the jolly... Ho! Ho! Ho! Green Giant! Hear the echo??? I really have to say women are dumb bitches sometimes! I mean we can be really S-T-U-P-I-D at times!!! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! 

From a man's perspective, I was told at an early age "I was sitting on a goldmine" and what did I do? I ran with every loser within a 50 mile radius. A real freak magnet here! Yeah, I was sitting on a goldmine alright! I should have hired myself out to a circus. She walks! She talks! She crawls on her belly like a reptile freak! Oh shit! Wait a minute I think I'm supposed to be bitching about someone or something else other than myself! Pardon me while I regroup and pull myself together. [small break to think] This is my blog and I am the Captain. The Captain would like to introduce you to Tennille (or Jnuts as I have always called him). I'd like to take you back several years when I first knew Jock was "the chosen one". (Jnuts, when did we start on MSN Spaces? Didn't it first open its pearly gates in late 2004?) Anyway, here was this guy blogging about his prostate. I knew then I had died and gone straight to blogging heaven. Here is Jock's rant titled "Footloose and Diaper Free" :

So, it wasn't as bad as I anticipated. There was no rectal exam. This was merely a PSA blood test. If my bloodwork comes back elevated, I will worry about the old finger bang at that time. Which is fine, as my 'roids have been acting up lately and the only way someone is going to shove anything up my ass is after they give me a bottle of tequila and they are in possession of a jackhammer. When asked if I wanted the rectal in addition to the PSA, I politely declined by saying, "only if you buy me dinner and call me daddy." My offer was refused. I DID get a Tootsie Pop and a blue ribbon enameled pin signifying "Prostate Awareness." I was already aware I had a prostate, but I took the pin anyway.

How could I leave that alone? I couldn't! I tried! But the force was strong within him! I answered the call of the wild with my own little twist titled "A Visit To Dr. Pain's Office" but included his delightful and very insightful words on my blog as a lead in for what I wanted to say:

I'd like to take this opportunity and turn a simple medical diagnostic test into a Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus moment. I believe every man I've ever known who has had a prostate exam has described the doctor as having fingers the size of tree limbs and the personality of Marquis de Sade. It's not difficult to picture the doctor coming into the examining room, snapping those latex gloves and telling the patient that the procedure may be a little uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? How about humiliating? And the poor fool isn't even being offered dinner and a movie to go along with it! I know medical staff do their best to preserve a person's dignity, but how dignifying can a prostate exam be if you're a male or a Pap smear and mammogram be if you're a female? The majority of people reserve access to the vajayjay, the twins and the Incredible Hulk exclusively for their significant other. Now, here we are with an almost total stranger and we're PAYING them to prod and poke us. Nope, we aren’t in some sleazy motel with a prostitute! We're in an examining room with our doctor! From a woman's perspective, I'd have to say Pap smears and mammograms are most likely the equivalent to the prostate exam. Guys, you're lucky because prostate exams aren't routinely done until a man reaches middle age. Ladies have to endure the joy of Pap smears and pelvic exams annually from the time they first become sexually active. Mammograms aren't started until later, but are routinely done at an earlier age than when prostate exams are started. For the men who have never had their significant other complain about the whole female going to the gynecologist ordeal, let me fill you in. We not only get the Pap smear and pelvic exam, but we get a rectal exam also. We also have a breast exam and then are sent to have a mammogram depending on what age we are. What can I really say about having a complete stranger stuff my breasts into a cold metal vice and flattening them to the width of a pancake except, "oh boy! Where can I get one of those gadgets to have at home?" (Okay ladies...are you laughing with me?) I guess the most difficult part of the whole exam experience is the waiting for the results part. Yep! We feel great! We didn't notice any lumps or any other abnormalities, but you never know! You always hear horror stories about someone who feels great one minute and then finds out they have cancer the next. I'm not a fretter and can only imagine what the wait for test results must be like for someone who worries about every little thing in life. They must drive themselves and everyone around them crazy in that period of time. How does anyone reassure or console someone like that? I have a suggestion for both genders. Guys, do something special for your lady to let her know you're there with her in spirit during this process. It doesn't take much to let someone know you care about them. A nice dinner out? A romantic getaway for both of you? Ladies, the same goes for you. Our guys need support, too (remember they're whiners!). How about tickets to a ballgame, taking him to a movie he wants to see (and you pay for it or it doesn't count) or buying something slinky from Victoria's Secret to wear for him? Just remember it's the thought that counts and doing something small may mean the world to the person you love. Actions always speak louder than words and here's an excellent opportunity to say 'I love you" very loudly!

So there you have it except for the comment our beloved Jock left for me as a response to what I had written:

Leave it to you to take my insipid tale about Nurse Ratched and turn it into something extremely worthwhile. I loved it and agree, except for one thing. Men are whiners? Oh, you must die! I'd come over there and slap you, but my back is killing me because I had to do dishes today. Damn, the pain is so intense from standing there it feels like I'm getting ready to give birth! Oh, and my hands are now all pruny and I think I'm coming down with the flu, because I've been sneezing and have a headache. Although, the headache could be from standing over the sink while steam rising from the water made me dizzy and disoriented. Mommy! I need to take a nap.

Gratitude statement: What can anyone say about or to someone like Jock, but a simple "thank you"? 

A MOMENT OF CLARITY

When people tell me, I need a boyfriend, I sometimes fall into a moment or two of weakness and actually long for the intimacy that's been missing in my life for the last 5 years. My moment of weakness is then followed by a mental slap in the face! What? Share the remote? Have some guy putting his feet on my table and asking for a sandwich?? Listen to a list of all my faults recited to me repeatedly? Start out with mind-blowing sex to be followed up with something less satisfying than "wham bam, thank-you, ma'am"? Be oogled as desireable due to being independent and free-spirited only to be told that I can stop being that way after I've been taken out of the meat market? Be forgotten on my birthday? Bought small appliances for Christmas? Expected to be a saucy tart 24/7 even when he hasn't showered and smells like decaying fecal matter? Have every piece of food I consume carefully scrutinized? Give up chick flicks for action/adventure movies? Be totally drained dry only to be tossed in the garbage for a perkier model? 

Gratitude statement: I am thankful for having such a great comparison in case Mr. Wonderful ever does show up! 

MEDICATION TIME

I know sometimes I ramble on about being alone when in reality, I'm exactly where I want to be. I think I have moments of weakness when I actually do miss having a significant other and then something always knocks me back into reality. Usually, it's someone I know going through some relationship drama that makes me want to vomit and run for cover. At times like those, I feel thankful that my life is without that kind of drama. Unfortunately, my life has other areas that take up the slack. I just read an article today about diabetes and stress. HA! And people think carbs are what kill... First and foremost on my bitchfest for today is my elderly mother. I call her "mother" for lack of anything else to call her. You see, this woman who looks like my mother really isn't my mother at all. The aliens must have abducted her about 5 years ago and put a empty pod in her place. The empty pod doesn't like to do the things my mother used to like to do. In fact, the only activity this pod likes is sitting in the dark and rocking in the rocking chair. 

The pod won't bathe, brush her teeth or eat properly, but when asked about depression, "it" responds that everything is fine. I'm at the point of pulling my hair out because I don't know what to do to help change things. All this stress is effecting my health, but short of installing an on/off switch in my head, I don't know how to just accept the fact that there isn't anything I can do. Believe me, over the past 5 years, I have tried everything known to man to interest the pod in anything and any suggestion I make is met with instant resistence. I even went as far as one day saying to the pod, "Okay we're even!" (I felt she was paying me back for me being such a rebellious shit in my younger years) The pod knew what I meant without any further explanation and it laughed at my frustration! The second bug that has crawled up my ass are people who disappoint me...I know,BOO HOO! I figure at this stage of life meaning "adulthood", people should follow through on things they say they are going to do or else they need to just keep their well-meaning pieholes closed. 

I'm tired of doing things for everyone and in turn, feeling like I'm used and unappreciated. Yes, I know I allow this and need to be a little less giving, but to be honest with you, I don't know how to be any other way. And I really don't think it's me who has the problem! Being able to give to others is an attribute, but the longer I live, the more I see it's an attribute that's taken advantage of by leeches, emotional vampires and other bottom feeders. At this moment I just want to tell everyone to "suck my ass dry!" I NEED DRUGS! NOW! And the sad part is, I'll take a deep breath or twenty and just go about my business. 

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for being able to tell those around me, the givers of stress to fuck off ocassionally. 

A FUNNY THING HAPPENED

Yes, a funny thing did happened to me on my way to old age! I got distracted, sidetracked and ended up poked away in some hermitage on The Redneck Riviera. How the hell did that happen? Now, many years later here I am in a spot I never thought I'd be. I really didn't think at this stage of my life I'd be alone. Lately, I have laughed at myself for being such a loser. Here I sit typing away about love and life when obviously whatever formula I had carefully devised for successful relationships hasn't worked.

My head is full of stupid idealistic notions and all those notions have accomplished is to keep me isolated and alone. I think my plan royally backfired! I wish some of the married people out here would tell me the secret of success, longevity and of finding the right match for myself and where to search. I know people say as long as you're hunting you won't find what you're hunting for. Maybe so, but what about the last five years I haven't been hunting? Am I so defective and grotesque that the thought of being with me makes men run for cover? Does my independence work against me by causing any potential mate to feel unwanted or unneeded? Am I demanding? Not really! Actually, I'm low maintenance and I think this might be something that has worked against me also. 

You see, I had this foolish notion that the best things in life are free and love needn't be an expensive adventure. After all, they say money doesn't buy love. Also, I’ve never been a materialistic person. "Stuff" just doesn't impress me. I was always more impressed by what was inside a person than by what they owned. I think this is another flaw in my outlook on life. Am I a vain person? No, not at all! In fact, people look at me as a diamond in the rough. I guess I should have spent countless hours at the gym and thousands of dollars on make-up and saved my pennies to buy a pair of implants. Somehow, when I looked in the mirror over the years, I never saw a person who needed make-up and the hard physical work I did all my life seemed to keep me in pretty good shape. 

As for the implants... well 40C seems ample enough for me and since I never had a career as an exotic dancer, I never felt the need to enhance what mother nature already gave me. So what's wrong with me? And how do I fix it? Or do I just let it be and keep right on believing the right person is going to love me unconditionally and accept me for who I am when that has never happened? What are the odds at this point that the remainder of my life will be spent alone? I think statistics are starting to work against me here! Being a few standard deviations from the norm makes me at high risk to be an old maid. It's off to the nunnery for Mildred! The person I have deemed as being "okay" must not be. I wish I could see myself through someone else's eyes and then I'd know what to fix. 

It's hilarious that just recently I thought the metamorphosis was complete because I had emerged from a difficult time in one piece. Now, I’m beginning to think the metamorphosis has just begun and the road ahead of me is unclear! It sounds to me like I'm a prime candidate for a mid-life crisis! Now, all I need to do is find a suitable one...one worth the time and effort of doing. Knowing me as I do, I have no problem believing something will come my way and pique my interest...and probably be a total disaster (my specialty)! So let the fun begin! 

Gratitude statement: I actually am grateful to have lived this long to be faced with what to do with the rest of my life. 

EROTICISM AND THE WALMART SHOPPER

I hate crowds! I also hate shopping! I guess that not only makes me unAmerican, but also the atypical female. Sometimes I used to go grocery shopping late at night to avoid the crowds. Very late one night, I went to Walmart where I encountered a middle-aged couple ahead of me in the checkout line purchasing 3 items. I made the following observations about the couple: 

 1. They were a well-dressed, affluent, middle-aged couple. 

 2. They were obviously enamored with each other because they made frequent passionate public displays of affection (PDA) 

 My smile turned to utter delight as I became mentally captivated by the 3 items they purchased. To this day I often wonder why any couple would come to Walmart at 2 a.m. to buy a roll of duct tape, a reclining lawn chair and a can of whipped cream! No, I didn't follow them home, but I have to admit I was tempted! 

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for having a keen power of observation and enough sense to know when to leave well enough alone! 

The Definition of Confusion

When my children were still in school, they used to visit their grandparents on school holidays. I would drive halfway to Pensacola to meet my mother and place my children in her care. The first few days always seemed like bliss and then the house gradually seemed way too quiet. By the time I would pick up my children, I was more than ready to have them come home again. I welcomed that deafening chaos.

My mother was always rather rigid while I was growing up and had a very diplomatic way of handling punishment. If the guilty party didn't confess the first time when we were asked who did it, we all suffered the consequences. As I grew older and eventually became a parent myself, the woman who raised me seemed to change. She got soft in her old age! Had I broken her spirit? Possibly! But each time my children would rave on about the fun-loving person who they perceived their grandmother to be, I knew it wasn't the same person who raised me. My mother was proof that aliens do exist! Ask anyone from my old neighborhood! They knew my mother was a force to be reckoned with. Her voice alone could raise the dead.

Each time my children would go for a visit, it took weeks before I could straighten them out. My mother waited on them hand and foot and made them do nothing but fun things while they visited her. When they came home sassy and quite lazy, I would want to pull my hair out. One time while driving home, my children seemed quite mesmerized by a joke book one of them had gotten while in Pensacola. One of the visiting rituals was to take my three children (her angelic grandchildren) to Hawsey's, a used bookstore and let them each purchase a large paper bag full of books to read.

Since they were quiet on our trip home and this was an oddity, I tried to engage them in conversation only to be told they were reading jokes. That explained the occasional chuckle I heard from the backseat. I asked them to read aloud some of the jokes. My youngest child, Matthew spoke up and said he would read one. Although he was only 7 at the time, his reading skills were quite advanced for someone his age. As Matthew read, I almost drove off the road.

Whats' the definition of "confusion"?
Twenty blind lesbians in a fish market!

What? Now, with glee they started reading more jokes from the book until I asked them where they got the book. In unison...HAWSEY'S! And your grandmother let you buy that? Well, she never screened the books that were bought, so the book titled Truly Tasteless Jokes was easily purchased by my son, Daniel (age 9). When they all went on to recite the dirty little ditties my mother had taught them I knew she had lost her mind or maybe the rules that apply to being a parent were different from those being a grandparent. It definitely was a gotcha moment lovingly given to me by my mother. To this day, my mother just smiles innocently when this story is told.

An example of one of the my mother's ditties:

A flock of birds
Chocked full of tirds
Flew over my father's castle
They stretched their necks
And shit a peck
Then closed up their assholes.

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful I don't live in a castle near a fish market.

FEATURED YOYO

Daniel Fogelberg
August 13, 1951 – December 16, 2007
Written by an anonymous fan: "Dan, I finally hugged my father before he left; I finally found peace after lost love; I finally claimed a purple mountain for my soul -- all this because of your musical journey, always more than lyrics and melodies. I finally discovered gratitude and grace. Your music is timeless; your heart, boundless."

Gratitude statement: Sometimes lasting memories are formed under the strangest of circumstances and sometimes people only need to briefly touch your life in order to have a lasting effect on it.

I GAVE BIRTH TO A PRINCESS

This is my beautiful daughter, Princess Christina. She would like to have people believe I hung a porkchop around her neck as a child so at least the dogs would play with her. What a sassy little vixen she is and also she's bursting at the seams from being full of crap! She's talented in so many ways and I truly wish she would see her full potential instead of spinning her wheels like yours truly (I guess this comes from being raised by a mother who had potential, but did everything she could to destroy it).

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for rubber porkchops because they are reusable!

SEX AND THE KITTY

The past week has been hard for me. The lightbulb has gone off several times and I've found myself saying, "WOW! an epiphany!".
What's strange about these lightbulb moments are that they have come at odd times when I wasn't really engaged in deep thought. It's almost as though some stuff I've kept stuffed down for so long is surfacing because it has no place else to go, but up. These moments are allowing me to see me in a different light.

I think the strangest of the epiphanies is the one concerning sex. Since a very young age I've looked at sex through hedonistic eyes. At times, I've been very promiscuous, but I've never felt bad about being sexually uninhibited. For the last 5 years I've been in self-imposed "time-out." Okay, that time-out came as a result of a broken heart, but nonetheless it has given me time to distance myself from something I always felt clouded my judgment. In my case, sex makes me brain dead. The more I have, the more comfortably numb I become. Sex has completely destroyed my judgment skills and has left me morally bankrupt. Now throw drugs into that mix and yourself have free-spirited, pleasure-seeking junkie!

Can I link my bad behavior to any particular cause? You betcha! But instead of feeling angry, I feel sadness. I feel sadness for all the time I truly wasted on cheap, sleazy sex and thrill-seeking scumbags. I feel regret for all the "nice" men I've known and have never given a chance because they weren't Billy Badass. I always believed nice=boring and for me nice just didn't get it done. Masturbation was more stimulating than sex with a nice man. I can't tell you how many first dinner dates I sat engrossed in pleasant conversation with a perfectly nice man while my head is screaming, "NOT IN THIS FUCKING LIFETIME" as I tried imagining my long legs wrapped around my dinner date doing unmentionable things with them.

What disheartens me the most is realizing that my most memorable personal accomplishment is having a lifetime filled with being self-destructive. Oh, but instead of getting the job done all at once, I felt I deserved a lifetime of being dragged slowly over the coals to kill myself a little at a time. Now, I'm trying hard to find ways to break that cycle. For someone who has always acted on impulse, it's difficult to leap cautiously back into life and then stop myself to ask questions first before I do anything.

Do I really want to do this? Is this the right thing to do? How will it effect me? Those are basic questions that most people have been asking themselves all their life, but those questions are a major thing for me! Being "normal" is overwhelming to say the least! I really didn't realize how far down into the pit I've fallen until I started trying to climb out. Hopefully, what hasn't killed me will only make me stronger. Hopefully, as I peel away the layers of semen-laced crud, I'll see the person others see. And hopefully, as I climb my way out into daylight, I'll be able to forgive myself as easily as I have forgiven others who have caused me pain.

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for having 20/20 hindsight.

BITCHFEST - PART IV

It's no secret that I consider war immoral. You see, I think slaughtering others is a completely avoidable act and that peace can be accomplished through peaceful means. (Please don't jump in here and give me a rash of shit about what if someone attacks you. Self-defense is an entirely different story. We all have survival instincts and should use them when and if needed!) Wars should be as a last resort and then I'm still not comfortable with the mass annihilation that takes place. I know my beliefs are idealistic, but it's my right to feel anyway I want to feel and believe in whatever I want! If you read the post before this one you can pretty much see where my religious leanings are...I'm all for brotherly love and doing unto others as you would have them do unto you and yes, the Ten Commandments are cool, but that's where it ends for me. I'm sorry, but I'm a "show me" type of person and God has never shown me that he or she really exists. I have a zero in the faith department when it comes to worshipping a deity or deities.

I tend more to go along with Karl Marx and believe religion is the opiate of the masses that gives the down-trodden something to look forward to....death and the here after! Come on! What a crock of shit...it's like the gold stars you give a little kid to bribe them into being good. Okay people, here's your treat....you get to sit in heaven and play harps and sing songs for eternity. I'm sorry if the thought of that being my reward for being good doesn't exactly win me over. Nope, I'm not a puppy in search of yummies and if I do get a yummy I want it NOW. Oh no, I hear praying going on and those prayers are for me. Okay, so if you must pray for me, pray I get a new spine and a BMW. Oh hell, at this point I'll settle for a BMW and a handful of Percocets. Then I can cruise on the highway of life going 120mph and feel on top of the world.

Gratitude statement: I am thankful your God loves me just the way I am.

BITCHFEST - PART III

I posted the anonymous quote found below to my Facebook page and before I go any further let me explain why so many people are on Facebook...mindless banter. That's it! It's a site to "hang-out" and vegetate and to reconnect with old friends. So anyway, I posted this quote about religion knowing that it would stir the pot...and it did! Amazingly enough, most people really missed the whole "if you're gonna talk the talk, then walk the walk" point of the quote. It never ceases to amaze me how defensive people can get over nothing.

I guess those who squeal the loudest must be the most guilty. That whole "I'm in church on Sunday, so I can do WTF I feel like doing the rest of the week and God will forgive me because I'm imperfect and a sinner so I'm supposed to sin" mentality makes me want to vomit. If you're a Christian stop back biting! Stop gossiping! Stop walking past people in need! Stop judging everyone except yourself! Act more Christ-like! And stop sending me fucking religious stuff! If I want to be a hedonist that's just what I'll be because I like pleasure. If I claim to be a heathen, then just go about your merry Bible-thumping way. You can pray for my eternally damned soul, but stop trying to cram Jesus down my throat. By the way, shouldn't a person lead by example and not by "do as I say and not as I do"? If you really want me to see the light, you need to stop giving Christianity such a bad name!

"Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to a garage makes you a mechanic."

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful that when I do something from the heart, it's from the heart and not motivated by some fear mongering dogma.

BITCHFEST - PART II

Ex-lovers make good speed bumps.

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful that not all people think like I think.

BITCHFEST- PART I

Remember the good old days of telling a joke to a group of friends? And if that joke was funny, you had the privilege of hearing people's laughter. Now, each time I check my email, my inbox is stuffed full of a few things..spam and jokes from the same few people. Okay, spam is something I guess I can remedy fairly easy, but the other is something I really don't understand and find it unnecessary and quite annoying. I would much rather have someone write a few lines ocassionally asking me how I'm doing than to have this daily barrage of jokes I never even open.

If a person feels the overwhelming urge to forward jokes to everyone in their address book, why do they do it by just hitting the FORWARD option? I, for one don't want the whole world to know my email address. The BLIND CARBON COPY (BCC) option seems to be one of the most underused email features there is. Why isn't the rule of thumb for any joke being passed around the internet that if you wouldn't tell the joke out loud to a group of people then it isn't worth passing along in an email? "LOL" just isn't the same thing as actual laughter. Some things just don't have a suitable substitute like manners, good judgment and laughter just to name a few.

Don't get me wrong! I’m all for passing along a FUNNY joke, but most of the jokes I've had the misfortune to open and read only makes me wonder if the sender ever reads what they send before they forward it to their entire contact list. A little screening beforehand might make the recipients of stupid jokes stop wondering what kind of drugs a person would have to take in order to make these jokes appear to be funny. Come on people! Think about those several jokes you forward to everyone daily and then multiply that by 4 or 5 well-meaning friends and acquaintances who obviously have alot time on their hands.

If I read everything that was sent to me each day and passed it on like instructed so I'll have some stroke of good fortune within the next few minutes, show my loyalty as a friend by sending it back to the sender and to show my patriotism or support to some organization by keeping the chain alive, I'd have to give up the few hours I sleep each night. Perhaps there lies my problem...if I spent more time keeping the chains and jokes going instead of trashing them, I'd be a millionaire now. I’d have friends who know I love them and there would be no question as to where my allegiance lies!!!

It sounds ridiculous when I put it like that, doesn't it? I just find it incredible that people actually pass that crap around without ever thinking about what they're doing. Maybe I'm missing some hidden point and if so, I wish someone would explain it to me because I really don't understand why any intelligent person would forward something like that to all their friends when most people find it to be such an annoying practice. Is this just another one of those delicate subjects that people find difficult to discuss with their friends?

You know, like the person who has bad breath or smelly feet and you back up every time they get close to you. You can't believe the person doesn't realize how offensive the odor is and wonder how they can be so blissfully ignorant to something like that. How do you enlighten a person without hurting their feelings? Many times I’ve sent an email to the guilty parties saying things like "I really appreciate being included in the list of people you forward jokes to on a regular basis, but I'd really prefer just to hear how you're doing every now and then instead." Obviously, my email must have been deleted as spam and never opened because the jokes just keep on coming and coming and coming... For good fortune send this to 5 friends in the next 5 minutes!!!

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for my sense of humor because it allows me to know when something is funny or when it's just annoying and not worth a chuckle or two.

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

Each of us are born, we live our lives and then we die. What makes us different from one another are the journeys we take and the adventures we have. Life is such a precious commodity, yet we seem to take it for granted at times. Many people seem to think there will always be a tomorrow. Tomorrow gives us another chance to make it right and to do all those things we didn't do today. What would happen if each of us spent today as if it were our last? Would we then tell the people we love just how much they mean to us? Would we call that old friend we haven't heard from in ages just to take a trip down memory lane and to laugh about the good old days? Would we take a leap of faith and follow our dreams as they beckon each of us? Would we suddenly see the magic in life?

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for second chances.

FEATURED YOYO

The Final Ride


The act of dying
is like hitch-hiking
into a strange town
late at night
where it is cold
and raining,
and you are alone
again.

Suddenly
all the street lamps
go out
and everything
becomes dark,
so dark
that even the buildings
are afraid
of one another.

by Richard Brautigan (January 30, 1935 – September 14, 1984)

Gratitude statement: I am thankful that I haven't journeyed to this "strange town" yet.

MEDICATION TIME

If giving is more important than receiving, when is the right time to stop thinking about ourselves and our own needs? I'm one of those people who give my 150% in anything I do, but have felt at times my giving nature has set me up to be used. Since I don't know how to be any other way and have no real desire to alter who I am, I'm left with the question of when is enough really enough?

If the strong really will inherit the earth, is it the emotional vampires (people who drain us completely dry) who will reign supreme eventually or will it be the do-gooders and hermits of the world?

I'm tired of my cave, but afraid to meander out amongst the masses for fear of the unknown. The unknown has screwed me over too many times. I feel weak and fragile right now. Sleepy? Yep! You betcha! I had a horrible day yesterday and couldn't unwind enough to close my eyes.

One friend was talking about suicide and another one was ranting and spewing venomous hate and discontent my way. I actually got accused of not knowing what real pain feels like. I was told I didn't know how it feels to lose a parent who was more than just a parent, but also a friend. I was told I didn't know how it feels to lose everything and to have nothing. I was told I don't know what it feels like to love so intensely that mere words cannot come close to describing the feeling. Yes, it was another exhausting session with Buddy!

[Karen, you stupid bitch, pay attention when you're in the presence of greatness, a legend in his own mind and learn to be humble! lol Like that's ever gonna happen in this lifetime!]

Gratitude statement: I'm extremely grateful that while not answering the phone may be morally or ethically wrong...it's not illegal! Self-preservation rules, baby! Thank God, yesterday is over!

FEATURED YOYO

Robert Crumb
Born: August 30, 1943

 
Crumb was a founder of the underground comix movement and is regarded as its most prominent figure. One of his most recognized works is the "Keep on Truckin'" comic, which became widely distributed in the 1970s. Others Crumb characters are Devil Girl, Fritz the Cat, and Mr. Natural. The first issue of Zap Comix was published in San Francisco in early 1968 and featured the work of satirical cartoonist Robert Crumb.

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful that when I tuned in, turned on and dropped out, I was in good company.

THE SUMMER OF LOVE

The summer of bible camp was "the summer of love" (1967). How ironic I thought, while others everywhere were tuning in, turning on and dropping out, I was trying to understand basic human nature and to find out if God really does exist. From a child's perspective, I grew up thinking if the people who claim they love me and want to protect me will hurt me, then what will the rest of the world do to me? The funny thing about it is that I've gone through life waiting and wanting someone to prove me wrong. My logic says since people are human and humans are flawed, anyone is bound to hurt/disappoint someone else, but on a deeper level (one still filled with idealism and good things that can't be destroyed by this cesspool called life) I choose to hold onto the belief that love is a good thing and in many situations is the only thing that keeps us afloat.

After that summer when I fell short of receiving God's grace, I turned to trying to understand evil instead. When the Satanic Bible by Anton LaVey was hot off the presses, I purchased one and read it from cover to cover hoping for a lightbulb moment. Needless to say, it was just another book filled with words written by man and it didn't explain the great mysteries of life any more than The Bible had. My spiritual journey I suppose some would say was corrupted by my inability to believe what I couldn't see. Instead of blindly believing I questioned instead. If God loved us so much then why does bad things happen to good people? Where are the miracles? Why are there wars, fathom and disease? No one seemed to be able to adequately answer these things through the verses they would throw my way. I needed more than words on a page to swallow anything I was told about God.

Eventually my salvation was found in my experimentation with drugs. As that experimentation deepened, I found certain drugs had a numbing effect. That feeling was one my whole body craved.... especially my emotions. Nothing bothered me as long as I stayed high, so by the age of 14 I stayed high all the time. I could easily sit back and blame my choices on my genetic background. I'm sure the long line of alcoholism that runs on both sides of my family would be enough of reason to say I didn't stand a chance not to be a substance abuser, yet somehow I know that's not why I changed the path I had walked as a small child. You see, I actively sought out finding something that would make me numb. It took me many years to realize that without drugs I would have been a much uglier statistic. I chose drugs. They didn't choose me.

Looking back on it, I call the next 16 years of my life "my leap of faith". They say God looks out for fools and drunks, but I think He/She has a special fondness for all addicts. Addictions, whatever they may be, cause an emotional bankruptcy in the person. No love is greater than that of a person and their drug of choice. When I say "drug", I include food, sex, gambling, shopping, work or whatever it is a person uses to escape. All other things in life come second regardless of what we tell ourselves or everyone else. That moment, at the climax when nothing else matters, I found freedom from pain and a facade that made me think nothing could hurt me again. Many years later, when the truth stared me in the face daring me to look elsewhere, I realized the truth would set me free.

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for the fleeting moments of the truth I see.

THE END OF INNOCENCE

For a friend and for anyone who heard the drumming...



Gratitude statement: I'm grateful to have lived in a time that was very different than today's world.

MEDICATION TIME

I'm in pain and I'm scared.

Gratitude statement: In some twisted way, I'm thankful for the pain because it makes me know I'm still alive.

CREATURES OF HABIT

Long ago (and far away) I programmed myself to require "background noise" in order to fall asleep. Yes, I actually do sleep for short periods of time occasionally. If I fall asleep while watching television and someone turns the television off, I immediately wake up. Silence boggles my brain! Years ago, reading a book was like a sleeping pill for me, but now I can't read. Books are purchased and piled on my nightstand with the first page reread about a thousand times before I give up. WTF! I used to be an avid reader and now, I enjoy nothing.

Is that the depression stripping me of all pleasure? Does depression affect comprehension and our ability to retain what we read? I think I have come to know what adult ADD (attention deficit disorder) feels like. When I have the strength and stamina, I start one thing and before long I find myself doing some entirely unrelated task without finishing the first. Round and round I go until finally I come back to the first task and finish it.

This cycle used to happen quickly, but these days some tasks take months or years to complete. Procrastination? Not really! It's my distractibility that keeps me unfocused and unable to stay on task. Perhaps, I've always been this way, but unable to see it until I got depressed and started slowing down and really examining myself.

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for the hundreds of television stations I have to choose from late at night.

THE 4AM HEARTBURN

I drifted off for a short while and when I awoke I immediately started thinking about love. Am I in a relationship? NO! Do I want to be in a relationship? Not really! These thoughts running through my mind were quizzical ones as I taxed my memory trying to see if I could actually remember what being in love felt like. I could vaguely remember a giddy, excited sensation. I could remember a smile, a look, a touch, but then so many bad things came flooding back smothering the "almost" memory I was having. I finally had to admit to myself that I really doubt I have ever felt love and if I did, that feeling was, but a fleeting glimpse.

At this point in my life, if "it" hasn't found me, I doubt it will. And so what? Who cares? I wish someone would tell me that I'm not missing much and that there are worse things in life than being alone....like being with the wrong person (wait a minute, that's my line I say to everyone!) So here I am at almost 4am typing away about a topic that frustrates the hell out of me. Would finding love and being in love magically transform me? (Yeah, right!) Would it make me sleep? (Great sex might!) Would I feel at one with the world? With the universe? Om! nam-myoho-renge-kyo, nam-myoho-renge-kyo, nam-myoho-renge-kyo (faster and faster until life is just a blur and I fade into the cosmos)!

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for the actual heartburn I have right now because for that I can take a couple of Tums.

THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF MY VICE

No longer can doing drugs, smoking, drinking, chasing wild men (or women) be included on my list of nasty habits, so I'm going to go gamble at the dogtrack, stuff myself with food and hopefully win some money.

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful I can get pissed off at the government without going postal on their apathetic asses.

THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF MY VICE

No longer can doing drugs, smoking, drinking, chasing wild men (or women...lol) be included on my list of nasty habits, so I’m going to go gamble at the dogtrack, stuff myself with food and hopefully win some money.

Gratitude statement: I’m thankful I can get pissed off at the government without going postal on their apathetic asses.

COMMENTS:

Laoch of Chicago
FEBRUARY 27, 2010 AT 9:44 PM 
I used to like to go the dog track when I lived in Florida. Bonne chance!


Mildred Ratched
FEBRUARY 28, 2010 AT 1:56 AM 
Where in Florida did you live?


Mildred Ratched
FEBRUARY 28, 2010 AT 1:58 AM
The puppies were kind to me today! I hit the first two trifectas and the daily double. I left after the 6th race because I don't believe in giving them back the money I won.

MEDICATION TIME WITH BUDDY

What a tangled web we weave and then when everything is totally chaotic, we usually have that "WTF" look on our face like we're actually surprised that we rolled the dice and the outcome wasn't a favorable one. Nope! Not this time! One-sided relationships have never brought me anything, but grief and so I choose to love myself enough to say no thank you to the drama. Pounding my head against a brick wall isn’t my idea of what friendship should feel like. Okay, everyone makes mistakes and I guess everyone deserves a second chance, but what happens when the second chance turns into the 50th chance? Isn't there a designated depot to get off the toxic relationship train?

To make a long, boring story short and simple: A guy I've been friends with since my teenage years threatened me about four months ago. My initial reaction was to try to find out what was wrong, but in doing so, I quickly saw I had made the situation worse, so I backed off. The particulars of the threat are somewhat complicated, but have to do with a website I created in 2002. As not to rock the boat (I take threats seriously), I complied with his demand of removing him from being a member of the website. I immediately sought legal advice regarding the website because his wasn't the first threat I had received. I had dealt with others not long after the website had been created, but I've had smooth sailing until now. Ultimately, I password protected the website and have specific disclaimers on it. Problem solved!

A few days ago, a mutual friend contacted me informing me that the drama queen in question wanted to be a member of the website again. He had called her whining and claiming he had tried emailing me and I was ignoring him (a total lie...the last I heard from him was when he threatened me on the telephone). What he cleverly set up was her to be his intermediary. Let me interject that during the last 4 months, I have never tried to divy up our mutual friends. I didn't feel that what had transpired between us should have anything to do with his relationship with other people. It was strictly between he and I.

Truth? Yes, a part of me wants to cave-in, but that other voice in me is stronger. I know everyone always excuses all his bad behavior as being "okay" because this is how he acts all the time. I'm sorry, but it's time to get off the train. What other people see as being acceptable, I find as being hurtful and damaging. I don't want friends who threaten me. I'm not a doormat and I feel that's what I would become by welcoming him back as the "prodigal son." I'm trying not to get confused on this issue, but my judgment isn't at its best right now. I've got so many other things going on in my head...

Feed back, PLEASE!!!!

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for the voices of reason out here in the blogosphere.

THE MAGIC WAND - SAVELLA

With diabetes, can come many complications. One of the more aggravating complications that has been bothering me for several years is diabetic neuropathy in my feet. For anyone not familiar with how this condition manifests itself, I can liken it to someone taking a lit cigarette and touching it all over my feet. When I do have any sensation in my feet, my nerves seem to be in overdrive. When the feeling subsides, my feet are numb. There's no middle ground and of the two, I prefer numbness!

I've tried many medications to help relieve my diabetic neuropathy. Not long after I was first diagnosed with diabetes about 8 years ago, I was given Neurontin (gabapentin). I saw no improvement even with high doses of the drug, but my stomach bothered me and my head hurt the whole time I took it. The same held true for Lyrica. I tried it twice and the whole time I took Lyrica I had a dull ache at the base of my head, my digestive tract hated the drug and my vision was blurry. Topamax just dulled my whole brain, but not my feet. I became forgetful and my stomach bothered me the whole time I took it. Recently I tried Savella, a brand new drug usually prescribed for fibromyalgia. The doctor gave me a starter pack as a free sample.

Savella is a medication that a person has to gradually increase over a two week period to reach the optimal dosage. By the end of the first week, my mind was racing all the time, I couldn't sleep at all (I do very little of that anyway) and things that happened 40 years ago were bothering me like they had just happened yesterday. If I had continued on taking Savella, they would have had to put me in a rubber room by the end of the second week. When I discontinued taking it, the drug took about 3 days to get completely out of my system.

After becoming discouraged and frustrated, I listened to the suggestion of a good friend who suggested that I try taking B-complex vitamins once a day. Although the burning sensation isn't completely gone, I have to admit that it has greatly improved. Mind over matter? Who knows? What I do know is that each person is an individual with a different body chemistry than anyone else. How can doctors prescribe a drug and expect it to work for everyone if no two people are genetically identical? Doesn't it make more sense to take something that your body may be deficient in due to the chronic illness? I guess I'm giving a little bit of a holistic approach to my medical problems to see where it leads me. What have I got to lose? The same old same old seems to be zapping my strength and sucking the life out of me slowly.

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for common sense, logic and the strength to follow my own path.

MENTAL HANDCUFFS

I guess the hardest part for me to deal with is the acceptance of my own limitations. After being Wonder Woman most of my adult life, how can I go from that to being the Seahag on Popeye? I've always had a somewhat "negative" thought process (I call it being a realist), but I could always function. I never felt depressed until about two years ago and then POW!

I really didn't know what hit me. I lost my ability to bounce back from all the things life was throwing my way. I completely lost my ability to function normally. Perhaps the difference is due to the physical illnesses I have developed over the last decade. Those things which challenge me physically in combination with my negative thought processes seem to have created the Grand Poobah of clusterfucks. Every little thing seems tightly interwoven to the next and this intricate maze I run like a trapped lab rat has no end. I want my reward and I want it NOW! Damn it! Where's my hunk of cheese?

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for the days I was Wonder Woman because I looked hot in that skimpy outfit and boots.

A CAVE GIRL & HER TOYS

No post! Just a picture of where I sit and type and type and type....

Items featured in picture from left to right: a laptop screen, tassels from my 3 children's graduations, a hand statue giving the peace sign (to remind me of my roots), a mouse because I hate the built-in laptop mouse sitting on wizard of oz mouse pad (Dear Dorothy: Hate Oz, Took the shoes. Find your own way home! Toto), a bottle of hand sanitizer for all my dirty jobs & a pencil holder made by my youngest son in 1986 filled with writing implements and scissors sitting on the wooden box I used to keep filled with joints (the box has been empty since 1985 and is now used for paperclips), my trusty 8-ball for all my major decisions sitting on top of my kitty drink coaster, my rolodex sitting on my "little black book" (names with 5 stars beside them probably all have E.D. now), wizard of oz paraphernalia (ruby slippers are made from cast iron and can really pack a wallop...beware wicked witches!) sitting in front of my beautiful reverse painted lamp. On the wall - metal wizard of oz poster and candles on window sill. I guess the only things missing are some incense and a circle of people singing Kumbaya (or Somewhere Over The Rainbow...wait a minute! I already posted that song, didn't I?).

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for all the great decisions my 8-ball has made for me.

CAVE LIFE 101

People with alternative lifestyles or who have a different sexual orientation than the rest of mainstream America may reside in a closet until they decide to emerge, but depressed people dwell in a dark, dingy cave many times filled with items of convenience so they won't have to ever emerge. A few years ago, I purchased a small refrigerator and a microwave to put in my bedroom, so I wouldn't have to leave it. That was around the same time as I bought a 52-inch HDTV. I should have seen the writing on the wall, but like most things, I ignored the warning signs until the damage had been done.

Hey, people I live in Florida and in an area where the beaches don't suck. As described in the following quote: "The gentle breeze is still soothing just as the crystal-clear waves roll in from the emerald sea. The flawless white sand is just as soft as before, and the sea oats still dance for a glowing sun" Pensacola boasts to have the whitest beaches in Florida. So why does a person who once was a sun worshipper no longer even venture out into the light of day? No, I haven't joined the ranks of the undead! Not yet, at least!

I think it has to do with having an addictive personality. I always loved to binge and then I'd grow bored with the object of my addiction. This behavior held true in every aspect of my life. For example, I loved to read, but unlike a normal person who would read a book and then go onto the next or perhaps take a break between books, I would read 10 books in 2 weeks and then be done for 6 months or more. I buy books now and never read them. I sit and look at the cover or maybe read the first page a few hundred times. I guess the same holds true with the beach. I burnt myself out on being sun burned. Actually, that's probably a good thing!

Tomorrow, I have my next yoyo appointment. I know she wants me to start dealing with issues I'd rather just leave in the cave. I'd rather discuss how I've spent the last 2 days cleaning and rearranging my cave and how good that made me feel...physically drained, but mentally better. I'd rather talk about why I feel the need to throw something away if I haven't used it in 6 months and why I have so little in which I assign sentimental value. Material objects have never meant very much to me...easy come, easy go! I'd rather discuss anything other than sexual abuse. I think I may be in a horribly foul mood tomorrow!

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful it's today and not tomorrow.

FEATURED YOYO

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful this song makes me feel the same way today as it did the very first time I heard it as a child. I'm sorry Judy, but today Eva is at the microphone.

FEATURED YOYO

Please allow me to introduce myself!

Any insomniac, addict, mentally or emotionally disturbed person or anyone who has ever been in dire straits and is at the end of their rope with nowhere to go is well-acquainted with temptation, self-indulgence and pleasure seeking behaviors. Satan, imaginary or not, comes in many forms and touches the lives of the most desperate. We are his army, the hedonists of the world. Even when we are not capable of feeling pleasure, there is the memory of pleasure and what a driving force that can be. To love one more time…to feel the pleasure of carnal knowledge and fleshy delights one more time, to experience whatever revs your engines and gets the juices flowing…the ultimate mind candy! Perhaps, he, the undoer of all good is the “secondary gain” (see previous post) keeping all questionable, unhealthy behaviors afloat.

Gratitude statement: I am thankful to be a survivor!

FEATURED YOYO

Please allow me to introduce myself!

Any insomniac, addict, mentally or emotionally disturbed person or anyone who has ever been in dire straits and is at the end of their rope with nowhere to go is well-acquainted with temptation, self-indulgence and pleasure seeking behaviors. Satan, imaginary or not, comes in many forms and touches the lives of the most desperate. We are his army, the hedonists of the world. Even when we are not capable of feeling pleasure, there is the memory of pleasure and what a driving force that can be. To love one more time...to feel the pleasure of carnal knowledge and fleshy delights one more time, to experience whatever revs your engines and gets the juices flowing...the ultimate mind candy! Perhaps, he, the undoer of all good is the "secondary gain" (see previous post) keeping all questionable, unhealthy behaviors afloat.


Gratitude statement: I am thankful to be a survivor!

SECONDARY GAIN PAIN

I ordered two workbooks my yoyo inspector wants me to do work in. When the package came, I immediately opened the book to see if the order was right, but then took the box and deposited it in my bedroom, the infamous cave. Did I ever tell anyone what color my cave walls are painted? They're bohemian red (dark red). I have African masks on the walls and a few wooden African statues. Over my bed or at least one of my beds, the one in the "red room" (I have 3 places in the house I attempt sleep) I have a large framed Wizard of Oz poster.

Getting back to the point...my workbooks sat in the box until last night while I was watching Bill Maher's HBO show Real Time. I picked up the one titled The Courage to Heal Workbook For Women and Men Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse and held it in my hands for about 2 seconds before tossing it back in the box. Nope! I wasn't ready for that one yet!
The other seemed less intimidating: Pain Recovery How to Find Balance and Reduce Suffering from Chronic Pain A Comprehensive Opioid-Free Approach. How's that for a title?

I opened the book and started reading. Almost immediately, there was a large caution written? Basically, it said cold turkey isn't the way to kick a habit. I wrote an "OOPS!!" in the margin. I guess that's not a good way to start a new program by doing things the Mildred Ratched method (like that way has worked so well for me in the past).

I got through the first exercise okay. I had to identify my causes of chronic pain from a rather long list. I checked off what applied to me. The next exercise, I read and went blank. I really didn't know what to write. I read it again and still drew a blank, so I went on to the next exercise. This little jewel was titled: Secondary Gain: A Hidden Barrier to Recovery. I felt like someone had slapped me in the face. I instantly felt so embarrassed and ashamed that I wanted to runaway or at least never come out of my cave again. I can't do this! I can't make myself feel worse while I'm already teetering on the edge. My very thin lifeline has been being able to express how I feel and now I feel I shouldn't do that because it's a secondary gain. WTF!!! Retreat! Stay silent! Don't ask, don't tell!

To quote the book: Secondary gain refers to any perceived benefit you receive from having pain. If not indentified, secondary gain gives you unconscious reasons for holding onto your pain. This does not mean you are pretending to hurt for the benefits you get, just that the perceived benefits make pain rewarding in some ways and thus more complicated to treat. (pain junkie aka glutton for punishmnet)

My next blog entry will deal with the list of perceived payoffs I get for being in pain. I need awhile to warp my short-circuited brain around this so I can start to move past it. This isn't something I want to do because just the thought of secondary gain is causing me pain, stress, embarrassment and shame, but since I'm a glutton for punishment I'll do it and I'll do it with honesty and conviction.

Gratitude statement: Although recovering is a difficult and lifelong process, taking the first step is the hardest. I'm thankful for having the courage and good sense to take that first step.