. . . and saw Myself

A Lot Can Happen in Two Years, Part One

2021-09-23T08:14:00.003-04:00

Can't believe it's been about two years since I posted anything on here. So much has happened. I'm sorry to say, none of it is good.

Who's to say when this string of "bad luck" started. Was it the car accident? December 12. I think it will be two years this December. I was going down the highway in the center lane, pretty much minding my own business. I really didn't see the car. I was blinded by a car to my left. Of course that car saw the other car inching out onto the highway, but I didn't. They were able to stop in time, but by the time I saw the nose of the car passed the car blinding me, it was too late. I didn't have time to brake, or maybe I did, I can't remember. Right before I hit the car, I thought, "This is going to be bad." Then the moment I hit the car, "This isn't so bad." I must have been unconscious for a moment because I opened my eyes. My car was off the road facing the opposite direction. The front of the car was crumpled all the way in and I was dazed. My glasses were on the floor. The airbag had deployed. I felt my nose bleeding.

It took moments for the first responders to arrive because they were heading back from another call. It was crazy mayhem. They hooked me up to stuff. Asked me questions. I was still dazed. I was less than hour from home on a three and a half hour trip. I was so close.

Pink Sandals and a Lost Lunch

2019-02-03T09:31:00.000-05:00

Returning to blogging after so many years feels strange. I've skimmed through some of my posts from years ago. Today I read a post from 2011. I was fretting over a lunch invitation I'd accepted and had nothing to wear. The post seemed to glaze over the opportunity to network and fixated on what to wear. In it, I described shoes, pants, and a shirt I decided on and today, don't remember owning. Pink sandals? Pink shirt? Jeans. Yes. It's a rare person who doesn't own at least one pair of jeans. I'm stuck on the pink sandals and pink shirt. I honestly can't remember owning a pair of pink sandals or a pink shirt I would wear in public. I have one Under Armor t-shirt that looks slutty on me so it sits in my drawer. I have never even worn it in the backyard. However, in 2011, it is the outfit I settled on to network with an acquaintance who invited me for lunch and to "show me around" pink sandals and a pink shirt.

What did you fret over eight years ago? If you can't remember, perhaps it's a good thing or even better, maybe we need to evaluate what we worry or fret about. What will be still be important in five years, much less eight? What stressors will we forget and not even be able to remember what we wore, much less ever owning a pink pair of sandals and a pink shirt.

No Shortage on Short Stories

2019-02-02T14:55:00.000-05:00

I have a list of story plots I have been journaling.
When an idea comes to my head, regardless of how far-fetched the idea is, I write it down in a document in my phone. If I get another idea that embellishes an idea I already have, I add to it or if it's new, I just start another file.
Some of the ideas are pretty good. Enough ideas for many books to come. However, when I go back to begin to write with one of the ideas, the story quickly spirals out of control, or it goes nowhere. Passionate writing becomes a chore and I avoid returning the the tragic characters that developed so quickly on my screen. Sad, disappointed, euphoric, melancholy, you name it, the characters that so quickly became so real so quickly become, well, nothing. It just ends in a crazy blur of, "Hey, that was a good idea. Why can't I get passed Chapter One?"
I worked, was working, deeply into a great story that began with a suicide--an end to a long journey of heartache and sadness. A relief. It was good. Even if I have to say so myself. It was so good. I was humming along bouncing back and forth between present and past. Feeding the reader just enough to keep the pages turning. Most days I couldn't type fast enough for all the ideas pouring through my mind. I was in love with this idea and it developed quickly. Had a life of its own. I fell so in love with each character it came to a place where nothing but the best would do. The words, the imagery, the emotion. I wanted the readers to put themselves in the place of each character to feel their pain, misery, relief, happiness. When the answer finally came in the form of a tragedy, I wanted it to sting the reader's eyes.
Since that one, it's been nothing but great ideas that seldom extend past the first 20 pages.
I see now much of my desire comes from my satisfaction of where I am in my own walk. Where my thoughts fall and how I address them.
My own deep sadness fills most of my days coloring everything I do just enough to taint, but not discourage. I begin to think of what it might feel like to give in to the rush of nothingness I fight everyday now. Not the suicidal tendencies. The haunting feeling of sadness and loss that should have no home in my otherwise flawless existence because by most people's standards I may not have it the best, but I certainly don't have it the worst.
So a few weeks ago after receive some news I had no energy or desire to mask my most primal response, I cried.
I cried and cried and cried.
At first when the tears were coming I forced them back, I even squeezed my eyes closed and wrinkled my face to put pressure on my tear ducts. It was as exhausting as fighting primal emotions always is.
I made it home with wet cheeks, but no real outward evidence of the trauma I'd just put my body through, so I went in my room and crawled in the bed, covering up with layers of heavy blankets until only my nose was visible.
There I stayed all night crying and sobbing, wiping my nose on my blanket and shirt. Crying and sobbing. I allowed my body to heave and shake. I breathed hard through the feelings and even made a weeping sound that was some where between a moan and a wheeze. I heard my husband come in, but I couldn't see him from under the blankets. He didn't speak to me, so I don't know why he was in there. For me or for himself.
Still I cried. Every time I felt myself rally, start to tell myself to get out of bed, quit acting like a baby, I refused the rally and went with the intense show of emotion I was already embroiled in. I must have allowed myself to cry for hours. It was dark when I finally peeked out from under the blankets. My pillow, blankets and sheets were damp and the air under the blanket was humid from sweat, hot tears and breathe. I didn't feel any better, I felt less exhausted.

Magnificent 7

2016-09-25T10:06:00.000-04:00

My sister and I "kicked off" football season with lunch out and a movie. I own the original--on CD--yeah, I know. Pretty 90s of me. At any rate, I liked the old version and I'm kind of a fan of Denzel Washington's movies. It had a few other familiar faces in it, so off we went.

It took a few scenes to get passed the new cast, but it wasn't difficult to accept the new faces and the spin new spin on the old theme:

Small village in distress. Bully threatening to take away "blank."

I didn't want to watch 90 minutes of meaningless violence. However, this movie had its fair share of shooting. Why wouldn't it? It's a western. In our time, it's OK to sit and watch a movie glorifying evil or hate. It's OK to watch bad win out over good, or tear up the old adage, "Crime doesn't pay."

So maybe here, it's giving away the plot to a really good movie. Not everyone wins, and certainly not everyone lives. However, in a Dirty Dozen sort of way, the right people die and the good people die trying to kill the right people. Somehow it all makes sense.

Head, Tails, or Three Strikes, Your Out.

2016-02-13T19:14:00.000-05:00

Well. Here I am again. Seems to always come around to spilling it here because I don't have anyone I can trust. I even asked my sister if she could keep a "secret." She said yes. I told her a secret and not 24 hours later, she told my husband. Right in front of me. Jesus. I kept looking at her trying to get her to shut it and she just kept talking. That was the last person on this planet I could trust. So here I am.

This one goes back a few weeks, and yes, it involves stupid coins and coin shows. To cut to the chase, he bought a $500 coin and didn't say a word to me about it. All he had to do was tell me what he had planned. I asked him about the coin, saw the coin, studied the coin, gave him every opportunity to tell me how much he spent at the show. No surprise, he didn't say anything. I suppose I should have known when he didn't say anything about how much they were.

Well, I waited, and I waited. Nothing. Truthfully, I thought, eh. It ain't no big deal. He has a coin allowance maybe, he spent $100 dollars? He's done that, saved up for a certain number of months and used his allowance at a show.

However, I'm not stupid either.

I know he makes money on the side which is a bit of a sticky situation. He's always pocketed any money he's gotten on the side. It's a super sore subject with me, but he thinks he's getting away with something and I don't say anything. Many years ago when I was working full time and still teaching on the side we decided whatever we made "on the side" was ours to spend as we wanted. I saved mine and bought a car because my scooter got sold and the money just sifted through his hands. He says he spent it on "groceries and stuff." Whatever. Again. I'm not stupid.

Another sore subject.

Wow, there are a lot of those.

Ok. Well, he has pocketed his money and acts all "generous" when I ask for a dollar or a five. I let him feel like a man.

So maybe, just maybe, he managed to hold on to $500 he made on the side. That doesn't relieve him of saying something. Jesus Christ, just say something. Say something! How did he know to take $500 dollars to a coin show? I asked him how he got it, he said he had it, so that makes it his side money. His blessed side money. His side job money.

It stings because when our truck first got diagnosed with the problem it's had now for quite some time, it was about $700 or $800 dollars, now it's gone up to $1,000. That $500 sure would have put a nice dent in the repairs needed.

I make $300 dollars a month teaching after hours. I use it to pay my student loans. I've been known to buy some clothes here and there. I spend $20 a month on a gym membership, that's about the best it gets with me.

He won $100 in a Super Bowl pool and didn't say anything about it until I asked him if he had change for a five. He opened up his wallet, I saw a pile of twenties. Looked like more than five of them, but who's counting.

I remember while we were watching the game, he made a big deal about winning the money, I said something about what we were going to do with the money. He got very defensive. I teased him about already having a coin picked out. He got nervous and flushed. Man, screw you, I thought. At this time I didn't know about the $500 coin.

Anyway, I saw his wallet full of money and made a comment. He said he'd collected on the pool and put it away. Regardless our situation, he's stuck to pocketing any extra money he can get his hands on. Sometimes if I asked him for it, he'd give it to me and then he'd stop at the ATM on his way to a show and get money out.

Not to mention how he runs to the mailbox every afternoon. I'm sick of it.

Let me take a different direction on this.

I took my bike in for repairs back in, I don't know, September, October, the guy quoted me something like $45 dollars, when I came to pick up the bike it was $200. I was humiliated for not getting the quote in writing. I wanted my bike fixed so bad. When he said $45 dollars I don't know what he was telling me, parts plus labor, labor plus parts. Regardless. I felt angry and foolish. I was ashamed, so I wanted to wait until later to tell him the truth--when I felt less stupid for being taken advantage of.

Now, frankly? I forgot. I haven't ridden my bike but two times since then, we've been busy. I was going to ride my bike to the gym today and I remembered I never was honest about the $200. So I feel bad. I feel guilty. But I didn't sneak. I didn't sneak. God it just comes back to him withholding the truth and it gets me angry.

Even With the Cheesecake

2015-06-25T17:19:00.002-04:00

Well I stepped on the scale this morning and weighed 185.0 pounds.

Yep. 185.0.

Indicating I have lost four pounds in six days. I started watching my calories like a hawk. Not logging, just guessing and shooting for about 1500 - 1600. I haven't been to the gym in eight days. Was thinking about squeezing something in tonight, but know there will be students and I am making a peanut butter pie for work.

To digress, this is the most amazing peanut butter pie ever.

Back to the 185 pounds. I haven't lost that much weight in this little time in quite some time, if ever. It's only four pounds, but I look in the mirror and even if it's psychological, I think I see it. I am going to keep on trying through the end of June and see if I can continue to lose at that same rate. If I can stick with it, I just may lose another four pounds before the first of July, making a total of eight pounds. 10 pounds would put me back at 179.

Might not be able to keep up the pace, but if I could, I could maybe lose 30 pounds by the end of July, putting me in the 150s which I haven't seen for decades. Today I am encouraged. Today I feel as though there may be hope.

Didn't Couldn't

2015-06-24T20:13:00.002-04:00

Well here I sit. Should have gone to the gym. No energy. Took my Maca Root today so I would feel up to it. Not happening. Now tonight I have a bad headache while a storm brews outside.

I'm improving my nutrition. This morning I drank a Bolthouse Farms Tropical type smoothie like yesterday morning with vitamins and a scoop of reduced fat cottage cheese.

No snacks

Lunch was my chef salad with a few pieces of turkey and ham as well as a boiled egg and a pinch of shredded cheese.

Tonight while I was getting ready for what I thought might be a trip to the gym I ate hummus, triscuits, a yogurt and my protein drink. In my head I think it was about 1500 calories, maybe 1600. Too much if I'm not going to work out.

Disappointed in a lot of things these days. It's just not working out as I had hoped. I'm exhausted from work most days. Headaches from the summer storms. Bad nights not sleeping well. I felt so energetic last week. What happened?

One Week Break From Gym Madness

2015-06-23T20:42:00.004-04:00

Well, no matter how I look at it. Today marks seven days since I was last at the gym. I think I might have needed it. A week to regroup and rethink. I spent this evening researching fat loss tips. I really didn't see anything I didn't already know, but it helps to refresh myself and load up on hints for the days to come.

I ate pretty good Monday and today. I a veggie drink and some cottage cheese Monday morning and a store-bought bottled fruit smoothie on Tuesday. I had a Peanut Butter Cookie Larabar for a snack. Super tasty and NO SUGAR. The other bar I find myself snacking on the most is the Apple Pie. Also very tasty and again. NO SUGAR. In fact, I read a blog a moment ago that said none of the Larabars have sugar in them--except the three with chocolate chips. There's a cane sugar thing. However, I did see items like

brown rice syrup

I don't know about brown rice syrup. I need to do some reading.

A nice chef salad for lunch with oil and vinegar dressing. Oh, yeah, by the way, Paul Newman has some great salad dressing that is pretty basic salad dressing in the ingredients area, but if you're looking to not have to make your own dressing, this is the one I don't get tired of.

No Sugar!

Don't Do Me Any Favors

2015-06-22T13:19:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about my post questioning the true meaning of the favor. I came to a convoluted conclusion I have to do things for myself and take responsibility for what I want. Don't accept a favor because favors require reciprocation. Unless I want to feel obligated, I need to meet my needs. Find my happiness. Get want I want.

From this day forward if I don't eat right, or don't go to the gym it's my fault. I am the one that caused my weight gain. I am the one that let my eating get out of control. I am the one that ate too much, too often. I am the one that was too tired to go to the gym. It's all on me.

Remember That Last Piece of Cheesecake?

2015-06-21T12:34:00.000-04:00

Well. I believe last night I said I had my last piece of cheesecake until a time I hadn't completely decided? Seems today was my last piece of cheesecake. Make that pieces. I ate the last three pieces of cheesecake in one setting. Now I have a headache and have been binge watching How I Met Your Mother. I know how it ends. Unfortunately I know how it ends for me as well. Gaining back the 50 pounds I lost.

I've got to get hold of myself and figure out what the magic bullet is before I truly do gain back all 50 pounds. It took me years to lose and I gained back half of it in one year. I ate half a cheesecake this weekend and haven't been to the gym since Wednesday. I've got to get control of myself before I ruin all my hard work.

The three pieces of cheesecake I ate in one setting so that they would all be gone and I wouldn't be tempted truly has to be the last dessert I eat for a while. I'm not considering denying myself because I've already heard denying myself can be just as big a mistake as eating three pieces of cheesecake in one setting.

I fell off the wagon. I gained 25 pounds. I need to figure out what to do next.

First Day Back

2015-06-20T21:55:00.001-04:00

I got up this morning and weighed.

188.9 pounds

Decided this was it I needed to get back on the wagon. I signed up to bodybuilding.com, put all my information in and found they'd like me to weigh 122 pounds and have a 16% body fat.

Holy Moly I've got a long way to go.

66 pounds and cut my body fat by 17%.

I had my last dessert for a while today. It was cheesecake and it was delicious. I've been thinking perhaps a luxurious dessert once a month might be kind of nice. I was originally thinking a dessert reward for every 10 pounds lost, but that seemed counterproductive.

Looking forward to getting back to the gym tomorrow. I'm going to keep my original cardio goals. The goals are a little difficult to explain, but I think they will fit nice with my weightlifting goals. Hoping to finally start losing some weight, get back to 165 and get more weight off from the original effort from a year and a half ago.

Going Back

2015-06-19T09:14:00.000-04:00

I'm going back to my original semi-vegetarian state. Still in the thinking phases, I know I want to take red meat and pork back out of the equation and reinsert more fruits and veggies. These last few months have been heavy on the simple and light on the healthy. I am going to flip that. The problem is going to be breaking free of the ease my husband sees in the process of dumping a bunch of crap into a slow cooker on Sunday and eating off it all week.

Do I announce my intentions and tell him he's free to eat what he wants, I'm not cooking it?

Do I continue to cook his unhealthy food alongside my semi-vegetarian foods?

I don't know yet.

Ultimately, I'm tired of feeling obligated to eat easy or what he likes because I don't want to fool with him. If I didn't have to worry with him, I know I could come home each night, throw a salad on a plate cook up some fish or shrimp and have that be it.

The root of the problem appears to be not wanting to fool with him. I'm not too tired to cook healthy or be healthy, I'm tired of him. I'm tired of feeling obligated to him and his evenings and his foods.

What am I supposed to do when all that stuff is how he feels loved?

Calling In Favors

2015-06-18T18:47:00.000-04:00

I am back today perplexed about a realization. Another epiphany--if you will. Favors are called favors for a reason.

"Will you do me a favor?"

Usually, the person has the right to say, "No."

However, if the one asking the question has already done something as a "favor" for the person being asked for a favor, obligation now exists. Depending on the frequency of the original favors, the obligation can get large.

Herein lies my perplexities.

See, I tried to find a definition of the word favor that includes our ability to "call in a favor" and I couldn't find one. A favor is an act above or beyond what might be expected or required.

"Will you do me a favor?"

Nothing in that sentence states to me:

"I've been doing X for you. You are now obligated to do X for me."

Or:

"You've been doing X for me, I will do X for you."

If there is an agreement where two parties tell one another, "If you do this, I will do this." That is an agreement between two parties.

So I struggle. Where does the obligation begin. Who gets to call in the favor? When is it even?

He did that for her when he didn't have to. Now she must do for him?

Disappear

2015-06-17T09:16:00.000-04:00

I just got in touch with something I want. I want to feel safe. I want to fit inside someones arms and feel safe. I want to feel a physical and emotional encircling. I spend my days constantly stepping back from what feels like the precipice between coming undone and sanity.

A daydream I often have is beautiful deeply feathered wings wrapping around my tired aching body. The wings close around me tighter and tighter until I almost can't breath. I also dream of stepping into a tiny floating leaf, pulling the edges around me and letting the wind take me away, gently moving me with each small gust. The movement is so soft, so quiet, so subtle, the water doesn't even ripple.

Maca Root and Caffeine II

2015-06-16T09:26:00.000-04:00

I made it to a week without caffeine. The withdrawal symptoms became more manageable as time went on. I had coffee today. I wasn't thinking. Thought I "needed" it and got it. I immediately wanted to dump it, but did not want to waste it. With my husband out of town for the next ten days, I am going to try no caffeine while he is gone. That includes the weekends when I enjoy my coffee on the back porch. Thinking about a hot herbal tea alternative.

Dirty Foot Adventure Run: FAIL

2015-06-15T13:22:00.000-04:00

I recently realized I did not write about my Dirty Foot Adventure Run. In my humble opinion it was a waste of a day. I didn't do well. I barely did half of the obstacle fatigue set in. I didn't do the jump at the end. I skipped out on a simple tube obstacle. I was afraid of hurting myself the whole time. I came up out of a crawl, my knee twinged and I completely lost interest in finishing the race. I hobbled until the knee loosened up enough to run. My friend had to keep leaving me behind. Like in the old days I watched her do obstacle after obstacle and saw myself fail and fail again. This is two mud runs in a row that did not go well. Am I getting old? Am I getting fearful? I guess it remains to be seen.

Maca Root and Caffeine Withdrawals

2015-06-03T21:02:00.000-04:00

I wanted to return to my blog and rave about Maca Root. I made it through a bottle and really felt as though things were looking up physically and mentally. Tonight I don't know if that is the case. I've got a terrible headache and my body feels as though I've been beaten. I was seeing and thinking much more clearly. Less sensitive, paranoid. You name it. Overall. Maca Root still gets my vote. I ran out today. My next order doesn't arrive until Friday.

I'm trying to cut back on caffeine been doing so for about three weeks now. I didn't realize it was going to be so difficult to resist that morning cup of coffee. I tried a mixture of cold turkey weaning if that is possible. I decided to not have caffeine on Friday the first week, then Thursday and Friday the second week, and Wednesday through Friday the next. This week marked Tuesday through Friday. I caved on the morning coffee for Tuesday, but had not caffeine the rest of the day, but today, Wednesday I feel similar to the first Friday. Ugh.

Not sure what to do. If I stay with the plan I will be back to caffeine on the weekend like I was in the past however, is seems like that first day of each week seems to return me back to the headaches and miserableness I had that first day three weeks ago.

Happy Wife Happy Life

2015-05-20T21:20:00.000-04:00

I would seriously like to know when wife became a bad word. I have heard and read Happy Wife Happy Life increasingly. Is that what husbands are doing now appeasing their wives?

Give her what she wants so she'll shut her trap and I can do whatever I want.

I'm so sick of this nonsense.

Husbands grow up. Your wife is not your daughter, she's not your sister, or even your "best friend" as so many wives pretend or portray you as on facebook. She is your wife, so figure out what it means to have a wife--your wife, not a wife--and then figure out what it means to be a husband.

The Sound of My Voice

2015-03-30T20:25:00.001-04:00

So today I heard on the radio it's not our voice men don't want to hear, it's the volume. Apparently we talk too much. "We" being women. I agree. We as a collective gender talk way too much. We talk about everything and we talk all the time. However, I thought about it and considered this scenario. Most couples, married or other, spend 50 to 60 hours a week away from home. Add six to 15 hours a week television watching. Six to eight hours sleep. Time away from each other with friends--not to mention children. The time women have to talk to their spouses or boyfriends gets significantly chipped away by the end of the week.

What are men complaining about? Yeah, women talk too much, but compared to other things cluttering men's lives. There is very little time to have to tolerate women's tendency to talk too much.

I was curious about my husband's views on this topic. I wanted to know if he thought I fit into the "talk too much" category. I felt I did not. I keep quiet about many things and purposefully choose not to chatter about nothing. I have several friends that do indeed talk way too much.

Well. Long story short. "Sometimes" I talk too much. This I find interesting. When is this? Is it possible when I am disagreeing with you or telling you something you don't want to hear?

Very interesting.

Buying Used Items on eBay

2015-03-16T20:50:00.000-04:00

Look at the pictures. Zoom in on corners and edges. Don't accepts a blurred, too dark or too light photo. Ask for close ups or different angles regardless of the item $20 or $200 when it arrives at your door it's yours.

I bought a pair of shoes for work. New Balance 411. The description and titles both claimed "Like New" and "New Without Box." The pictures were a little blurry, but best I could tell they were nice shoes. Here is the problem:

No pictures of the inside of the shoes and not pictures of the underside or soles of the shoes. I needed shoes like yesterday, so I bought them and was very disappointed. For them to have been "Like New" and "New Without Box," they had animal hair and some kind of dried yellow substance on the inside. The tread on the shoes indicated the shoes had been worn more than once. Including small rocks lodged in the cracks or the tread and some dried white substance was stuck to the sole.

I voiced my disappointment in a matter of fact message to the seller. Long story short. I could send them back or accept $10 dollars off. I was concerned about losing my return shipping, so I counter offered $15 dollars off. The seller offered the initial $10 again and let me know it would be cutting into his profit. I told him I was disappointed but would not take the issue any further.

Two Confessions III

2015-03-13T14:27:00.000-04:00

So it hurt. It hurt very much to hear him tell the truth. He'd always wanted me to work. I never said anything to him or told him I heard what he said. I kept quiet about it and obviously never forgot it. I almost typed the words forgive but for a brief moment the word seemed inappropriate.

Forgive.

Forgive him for what? For being honest? I just wish he hadn't let me think he supported what I thought was our decision but was now my decision. A sadness has replaced my shock and hurt. Now I wait and watch for him to betray his words with his actions. I expect it and I have never been disappointed.

Two Confessions II

2015-03-12T13:58:00.000-04:00

Let's see.

So now I knew he's always wanted me to work. What isn't included in that short conversation is a trip down memory lane, but not in a good way. It's a sad terrible night that ended with an enraged father-in-law shaking a checkbook at me, begging me to get a job. Any job. Whatever job I could find. Really? Like I could only get a job in a McDonalds.

Let's go back a few moments further. An angry father-in-law, a checkbook, and a poised ball point pen.

Get a job.

Any job and I will double whatever your pay is. If you make five dollars an hour I will make it ten.

"No." I said. "I want to raise my son."

The grilling only continued.

I remember the room thick with electricity. In their carefully chosen mobile home in their carefully chosen mobile home park. Their carefully chosen brand-new mid-size affordable vehicles in the carport. The in-laws were pretty certain they had arrived. The good life was theirs. Only a few loose ends.

I refused to work. Perhaps earn my keep, if you will. Whatever he had told them, whatever they assumed, I don't know. They weren't at our pre-marital counseling sessions. I would stay home and raise our children. No one else. It was his job to provide for the family and my job to make our home and family a safe haven from the world.

How did this fit into a quantifiable equation? Heck if I know.

Their disappointment laced in anger was palpable that night.

I held my ground and left with my son and my dignity in tact.

It's always been about the money with them. Write a check. That will solve it. Nothing was ever given without strings attached. Interest.

I felt good about our little family. We had ridden out a sizable storm that night. The wrath of my father-in-law. The weak silence of my mother-in-law. We had held together and survived.

In my opinion, we had done nothing wrong. We were young. All three of us. We were poor.

There was so much more to come.

I would learn I was alone that night and would be alone again.

Two Confessions I

2015-03-11T13:55:00.000-04:00

Isn't a confession something wrong we admit to? I don't know. I have two things in my life I can't let go. Two things that have been with me for so many years they are a part of me, yet I can't be sure it's wrong. Something was said and something was done that left a gaping wound so deep in my heart. I can't get over and now I'm afraid I won't get over it. A deep vein of hate and resentment that will not go away. When I think of it, rage boils in me.

It's not an easy task.

I can't put a time frame on it. Was it ten years, 15, or 20? Six words that changed me and changed my life forever. He doesn't know I heard him say it.

"I've always wanted her to work."

Pretty simple to consider. He's always wanted me to work. On its own the words seem pretty benign. He's always wanted me to work.

In context, let's listen again:

"How do you feel about her having a job?" He said. Maybe not those exact words, but the insinuation was that he did not want me to work.

"I've always wanted her to work." He answered.

I've.
Always.
Wanted.
Her.
To.
Work.

My heart broke.

Day Three and Already Behind Goals

2014-11-25T21:06:00.002-05:00

This is not good. I was supposed to run .2 miles tonight. I had to hold on to do .1 miles. Walked for a warm up about 5 minutes then struggled through .1 miles. I'm scared. I know I have four months, but I've been inactive for SIX. This is not looking good. Not time to go over to the gym. Late students. Did OK nutrition wise. Had salmon for breakfast, a blueberry meal bar for a snack, potato soup and some meat for lunch and two slices of meat for a late snack.

Sat on the Couch

2014-11-24T21:09:00.000-05:00

Oh. My. Goodness. I am not motivated the way I need to be. Did not go over to check out the gym. I let myself sit on the couch. I ate a cinnamon roll as soon as I walked in the door from work. Tomorrow is a run day. Not mentally prepared for this. What do I do?

RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

Have to keep telling myself over and over.