Recovering Beauty

Domain

2012-05-28T02:20:00.000-05:00

I purchased a domain for this blog. Now the big question is, will I actually use it? Would anyone want me to expand my blog to a full website about drug abuse and recovery? I love to write, so I would love to make a functional, up-to-date website about the truth of drug use, abuse, recovery, and all the nasty choices we make to keep up that lifestyle.

I ask because I have been blogging the shit outta my other domain, and I really enjoy working with it. I am not keeping a paper journal at this time, so that is where all my extra writing energy is coming from.

Questions? Comments? Suggestions? I'm always open to them both. I write for myself, but I really want feedback on my writing, so this has to be somewhat user content.

Mother's Day

2012-05-13T22:22:00.000-05:00

Happy Mother's Day to those that celebrate it. I spent the evening consoling poor Champ. His mother stopped having anything to do with him when he came out. Something stupid about never being able to be a grandmother now. The catch line that I blurted out was, "Haven't you told her that gays have discovered a miracle? Babies without sex! Seriously! The hetero people almost never use that method!" Champ was laughing that contagious laugh that he has with in seconds. That's my friend! I don't understand how a mother could disown a child because of who or what they are. I remember back when I was doing research for a paper I was writing on genetics, and parents were using a new kind of test to check and see what gender, eye colour and hair colour their babies were before they were born, and a whopping 16 out of 26 parents aborted their baby because it was not going to be the star of the football team, have the correct gender, hair or eye combination. It made me sick, researching that paper.

I looked down at my two boys playing "pick boogie" with their napping sister (yes, that game is exactly what you think it might be!), and I wondered how anyone can not love their children because of their sexuality. How could a human being kill a child (third trimester abortions here) because it was not going to live up to their "American Dream"?

I want to write more, but my back is hurting from sitting in this chair all day working on files and sites and installs. All I did was sit and work. It really did a number on my back, and I'm afraid that I am going to have to reach for that Vicodin after all. Maybe even the other medications that I was prescribed over the past week. I do not feel comfortable with taking them, but I will, just because I am sore tonight and I have to be at my best tomorrow, for appointments.

Sorry for a shite post, all. I promise better things are in the horizon. Even if I have to upload and post boring pics of my babies, maybe one of Mommie. Have a happy rest of the weekend, all!

you’re dead to me and I missed your funeral

2012-05-10T10:34:00.002-05:00

I must be living on some alternate planet and time line. The doctor gave me Vicodin yesterday. Sixty of them. For the next three months. I'm screwed.

Changes in the Drugs

2012-05-01T22:11:00.001-05:00

I signed up for another way to follow this blog:
Follow my blog with Bloglovin.

I am going into a new phase of my life. My doctor wants to get me off as many of my medications as possible. I don't know if that is a good idea or not, medically speaking. I know there would be far less drama here if I were not on all those pills. I think my doctor assumes that I am going to kill myself because of the massive amounts of medication I am on with my depression. I will know more after next week when I get to see him.

Other than that, life is going flowingly. I am excited to be starting some new changes in my life, and I hope they all go for the better. Warm and positive thoughts!

Tomorrow's Gonna Be Another Day

2012-03-28T23:20:00.000-05:00

I stopped updating. The entire time I told myself that I would write again, only when I was ready and not before. I was ready many times, but I could not force myself to sit at the computer and write. Just write. Just close my eyes, think of my day, open my eyes and type for all that it was worth. I use to find that so therapeutic.

Then I relapsed. Then I relapsed again and ended up in the hospital.

Then I had the two positive drug tests and I felt ashamed. Ashamed not because there was drug use in my system, but because I wasn't just destroying my life, I was also taking my best friend down with me, and he was the one who provided the drugs. I forced him to provide the drugs. I belittled him when he asked me why. I told him that I had a back ache or that I had a knee pain and all that could settle my storm. This was someone who loved me and was taking care of me, or so he thought, and here I was, verbally abusing him and running him into the ground.

That wasn't me.

Taking a look around the hospital ER room after an IV full of benedryl, fluids and an antidote, I was coherent again and able to take in my surroundings. My friend was sitting in a chair, in the corner of the room, looking scared. I quietly asked what happened and he said I was "rolling" for three days. On the third day, or that night, I started begging for help. I had not been eating. I had only taken one dose. Then I started seeing stars inside and floating. This went on for three days, and he had to call in to work, and he had to deal with my husband coming by asking for me. He thought he was doing me a favour by keeping me hidden from friends and family because they shouldn't see me like that.

And I shouldn't be remembered like that.

Remembered? The next seven words made my hair stand up on the back of my neck: "I thought you were going to die."

Two days later I walked out of the hospital with him, holding hands.

I made some affirmations right then and there. No more drugs. No more asking for them. No more brow-beating one of the truly few friends that I have for drugs. No more. No more. No more. No more pushing others to do drugs with me. I didn't pick up a Bible and become religious in that time frame, but I became more spiritual. I scared someone who loved me dearly, and I should not have done that. On the long, silent drive home, he said that I knew I was dying. That he could not sleep because I might stop breathing and he didn't know CPR.

So I asked, "What now?" he shrugged. Sitting outside my house with a small overnight bag on my lap, I leaned over and hugged him. I held him in my arms. Our silent tears were all that we needed to realise just how real this all was.

I slowly went back on my prescriptions. For a day or so, I was too afraid to take anything, thinking it was an over dose of one of my prescriptions. I basked in the warmth of my daughter and sons showering me with "Yay! Mommy is home!" and my husband's look of relief before asking where I was. I promised to tell him when the time was right. I sat down and did glitter crafts with my boys and little girl. I diapered dolls with my little girl. I wore a pink gem stoned tiara and dressed up as the queen and the boys were my little princes. I got out my old pins and mounted them on a framed cork board with my husband. I wrote in the journal that sits on the night stand. I watched TV endlessly with him. I played video games with the boys. I played Nintendogs with Chloe. I returned all the phone calls that I had been thinking about getting back to. I bought my mother scented candles and Godiva chocolates. I bought my father a stuffed rabbit with chocolates. I told my parents that I appreciate them. I wore the hoop-diamond-drop earrings that my Nick bought me for Christmas on my 18th Christmas. I put on the simple silver ring for my wedding band. I took nothing for granted anymore. I ordered a new journal and some stickers with Chloe and we have been making little scenes in the pages of my journal.

I take nothing for granted now that I know it can all be taken away from me so quickly. I never would have known my life was ending.

The next part I did Sunday evening. I went to my friend's work and watched him take drinks to several of the tables, back a fourth. He didn't even see me there. Shame that he was working on that day. I ordered a glass of merlot and waited. When he delivered it to me, I stood and held out my arms to him. We were instantly pulled together in a tight embrace. I whispered in his ear that I loved him and thanked him for being there, for letting me live another day. When the hugging was over, I asked what was in that final pill. I specifically said nothing harder than a barb. He said he wasn't sure, he'd gotten it from the john that was always asking for me. I sighed and told him that we could still be friends, in fact, I had made him a cake that he needed to come over and celebrate with me with after his shift. He gave me a wide-eyed look. "You know what..." he began. I nodded. "I know it's your birthday. Happy twenty-fifth! Come by after your shift for cake and ice cream!" I replied. His face immediately brightened.

I celebrated my friend's birthday with him, just the two of us, just as he had envisioned it. I'm not going to lose a friend because of an accident. I apologised to him for all that I had done, and I hoped that he would forgive me. He says he has. We should go on an adventure. We will. Just not this week, or the next. I need to rest up.

It's good to be alive.

Over-Stayed The Welcome

2012-01-23T22:19:00.000-06:00

I was never honestly happy today. The weather is nice, sure, but I wanted to share what little bit of happiness that I had left in me to ask a question. Something that I had planned 100% myself, without any help at all from Nick with the exception that just by chance I came upon his cell phone ringing and I answered it. I did a double take when I realised who I was talking to. I wrote down his message and then asked the question no musician wants to hear: "Can I ask you something?" "Sure!" Man, he was friendly!

I have a dear, sweet friend who is getting married soon, and if the person on the other end of the line was who I think it is, then I just had a wonderful idea for the wedding gift. I asked him if he was who I thought he was, and he said yes. Then came the worse question: "Do you do private parties and weddings?" He laughed. I tried to smile. We chatted a bit and I finally had him convinced to perform at the wedding. I was so happy. I was happy for her, happy for me, and happy for everyone who was going to be there.

Then I tried to share my happiness.

The friend that I set up the wedding surprises for, the perfume, the wedding singer, the hand-made invitations, wasn't too enthused with what I had put together. Yes, it was the best that I could do. I had those things when I got married, and they brought me good luck. The tradition goes that if something at your wedding brings happiness and good luck to your marriage, you should share it with a friend who is getting married. I tried. She wanted no part of it.

Horrifying thoughts of when Roxanna was an unfortunate part of my life, and I was forced to be nice to her while she cut me down, and talked bad about me behind my back to people who truly loved me. I had a small flash-in-the-pan thought that maybe that is what my friend is doing to me, now. Maybe I have over-stayed my welcome. Maybe we have grown apart. Maybe I was just fooling myself when I said that people genuinely like me and would have a better chance at being liked if my mother wasn't there to interfere. Maybe I am wrong.

It seems to happen when I'm in a good mood. Do they plan it that way?

I'm going to take some more leans and sleep until the pain stops. When ever that may be.

Spare A Kidney ?

2012-01-15T01:57:00.001-06:00

Well, it's finally happened. Come Monday I am going to be briefed on dialysis and then scheduled for my first trip some time next week. The whole idea depresses me like I have never been depressed before. Why is this happening? I have asked that question to myself many times. While I know why it happened, biologically and chemically, it was only a percentage that I was in, and the majority of this not happening was on my side. Yet it happened anyway.

My (asshole!) doctor wanted to blame the chemicals that I work with. They can cause severe kidney damage. Sure. If I had worked there for fifty years. He then blames the metformin that I have been on for the past four years. Well, he wanted me to take it because it causes weight loss. He also told me there were no horribly wrong side effects. Um, sure. See, I knew better. If I were an everyday person I could have a lawsuit against him at the moment, but as a bio-chemist, I knew the risks of taking the medicine and I still took it. Having my mother tell me that at 173 lbs, losing 30 lbs since Halloween night, made me less of an embarrassment to her. Of course she's in her 60s and living off me, but I'm the embarrassment because I was a few pounds overweight. Technically for my height I wasn't even obese, but I stopped eating, got depressed, and here I am. Though my loving doctor and mother want me down to 100 lbs even by summer. I was encouraged that I could do this. Ever see a 100 lb 6' 1" person? We don't look good. We look like we survived the holocaust. We have no energy. Ten years ago I was down to 100 - 90 lbs and I looked like total shit. No tits. No energy. Constant pains. But damn, I wasn't an embarrassment to my mother, her family, or my doctor. The people whom I should have truly been trying to please weren't interested in my weight; I've always been perfect to them.

I was put on a double transplant list yesterday. Monday I pick up my pager to wait for the news that there is a kidney or lung (yes, those are fucked up too). I'm not sure if this will affect my trip to Sydney, or the trip to Las Vegas in March. I've already paid for my tickets and I want to go. My plane to Sydney is supposed to leave on Thursday morning and I return on Sunday the fifth. I had everything planned, from a new camera to a ton of GBs of space to take pictures and video. I even stocked up on spare batteries and a fast charger so I wouldn't run out of juice on the trip. Then there's my "artisan" make up because I was supposed to be a part of the filming we're going to. I can't get on camera with a dialysis cath in my arm with the bruises to go with it. This all has screwed up my entire pleasure in looking forward to the trip; I haven't been to Australia for pleasure since 2003. Dennis was also looking forward to seeing DW again. I guess he can do that without me there, though. Nothing would be stopping him. I haven't told anyone about this, other than posting it here, for people to sympathise with me over it. Let's have that Pity Party for me!

On a lighter note, I have a couple of family members who are going to take blood tests and such to see if they match and I can get a kidney from them, possibly. I know my cousin BJ got tested. I'm not sure if I truly need my lung(s) replaced. That's one of the things we're going to discuss at the doctor's office Monday afternoon.

Oh, and my TimeCapsule died and went to hell a week ago. I've gone through the motions of removing the hard drive in it (and have the pictures to prove it), and now I am waiting on my check to go into my card so I can get a cord for it. I have another TimeCapsule, but I can't get the computer to recognise it. I hope that wasn't the error with my older drive. After harvesting that drive, I feel as though I can harvest the drive from my old strawberry iMac, just to get the data off it. That would be pretty awesome if I could get that drive too. I may update next with pictures of me harvesting my TimeCapsule drive and the iMac drive, if I can get it out. Right now I have to sit at my desk and update, and that's a bitch. I usually update from my bed while I'm watching TV. Not anymore! Not until I can figure out how to get that TimeCapsule working. Any suggestions? Advice on anything I've posted? Email me if you do. Or leave a comment. Whichever is good for you.

Don't forget to add my feeds:

here, there, and facebook or just plain add me on facebook. I'll love you forever!

Christmas Is

2011-12-25T16:29:00.001-06:00

... the spirit of love that surrounds us and touches us with its greatness. It's the kindness and unselfishness of giving. It's not about gifts wrapped in pretty paper, but the heart that's put into our actions. It's the celebration of life. It's opening our heart up to the miracles that happen everyday. It's about the birth of a child.

... And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. ~ Luke 2:10-11

Merry Christmas.

Awww Factor

2011-12-21T23:56:00.000-06:00

Make It Go Away

2011-12-19T02:54:00.000-06:00

Not an easy subject to write about: I want some things to go away. The emotional stressors of life are piling up on me and have been for months. Gotta do this, gotta be there. It's enough to make one want to find a convient hole in the ground and crawl into it. I've been asked for my opinion on things and then had insults and lies hurled at me when I was honest. When I cry, I am weak. If I am caught taking my daily medication, I am worthless. Why does it have to be this way?

I have been too sick to eat much over the past month. Too sick to do much of anything other than lie in bed and watch TV. All that lethargy caused me to get a blood clot. That clot put me in the hospital for a week and made me fret over whether or not I was going to miss Christmas and the tree trimmings with my family. Life is being particularly shitty to me right now, and when I try to lean on others, they back away. Fucking fair weather assholes.

I wish there were a quick fix for post-traumatic stress disorder, and the psychological trauma that I have endured. The fear that I have had to deal with on a daily basis for the past decade has done a toll on me. There are no easy answers for the reason I am broken. There are no quick fixes to soothe my soul and heal my heart. All that is left is the option to live, and I have taken that option, and I am happy with it. Others, however, are not so happy that I am where I am in life. They are the aggressors of the fear that eats away at me on a daily basis. They are the antagonists that cause my self-medication so I won't care what they do or say. If I don't care, I don't react, and they don't know if they've gotten to me.

It will all be better soon. I just know it.

Depression

2011-12-05T09:36:00.001-06:00

Over the past month or so, I have had some pretty sad bouts of depression. It was caused from learning that my cancer has spread to my bones. Essentially, the bone marrow transplant I underwent this past spring was basically a waste of my time. To save my feelings, my doctor didn't give me a "prognosis time limit", but he told my husband something, and it must have been pretty bad because suddenly I got an iPhone 4S, a new HD camera, and I was allowed to use the credit card again. Oh, and we upgraded our cable service. So what the hell is going on?

All of that stacked up against me, I have been put on Cymbalta. Great for keeping me asleep, unmotivated from writing on the web, and in my personal journal, and for keeping me from eating too much, but I am still sad. The pain is still there. The crying still happens. I try to keep the smile on my face. I try not to recall the horrible dreams that plague me all night long, and wake me every so often and I have to double up on Ambiene. I try to go to work and be a happy, helpful person. I even tried to smile in the court room last week.

It didn't make me feel any better. That's because this sadness is not from a chemical imbalance, but from trauma. Simple sadness that will go away when it's ready, not when some pill tells it it is time to go.

We were supposed to get the first snow fall of the season today. Now the weather man is saying no. How appropriate.

Court

2011-11-28T08:39:00.001-06:00

Something that I have not gone into great detail on my other blog is that I am going to be in court on Wednesday. I don't like to think about it. Alternately, I don't like to think that it's the holiday season without Billy whining that his "love" is ruining Christmas for the family. Nothing seems real anymore. That's the effect changes does on me. I don't feel that I am in familiar surroundings when changes are this great.

Happy belated Thanksgiving.

Dead on Vacation

2011-10-23T21:11:00.002-05:00

A few days ago (has it been a week or more already?!), my loving husband is back from his road trip. But his "career" has first priority, and tonight we find ourselves in New Orleans, Louisiana for the next nine days to celebrate our anniversary and our boys' fourth birthday. Are they really four years old already?! Damn, I want them to stay babies forever. :( I'm weird like that.

Husband is off with his friends and I am in the hotel. It's not all that bad, I can watch TV for the rest of the night, and unlike my aunt's house in Baton Rouge, there is cable here, and on the cable are Halloween specials all month long, plus some programs about drug addiction. I got a good contact high just watching a program about marijuana. :p

Chloe is crashed on the bed and the boys are crashed on the floor, beside the dog. It's wonderful to get away from my mother for a few days, and while I am here I will be getting some medical attention, but I wonder what is in store for me when Husband goes back on the road? We have to make some changes at home, and I'm not sure about what we're going to do.

Tomorrow is my little sister's birthday. She died in 2003. I miss her more and more every day, and there's that unfortunate twinge of envy that flows through me when I know that she never had to deal with my mother.

Husband tells me that I should have snuck out to see a doctor. What the hell...? 31 years old and I have to sneak around? It's not as if I'm a 15 year old high school student. Although, that would be pretty hot... me sneaking out at the age of fifteen to see a doctor .... for a date! But I stayed home. My left toe is permanently bruised on the end. The toe nail is pitch black as well. I can just hear my scatter brained doctor tell me that my toe needs to be removed. I don't think it's quite that bad, but, well, my doctor is that bad.

Walking Dead is on. I've been advised to watch it, so that is what I am going to do. The odd thing is that I have never heard of this show until today, and suddenly as I'm digging through my friends-lists, everyone is recommending that I watch it because they are watching it themselves. That means it's good, right? :) Anything to take my mind off the fat that I am spending the first day of vacation alone in a hotel room with three kids and a dog, while my better half is off with his friends. It may take the focus off of the fact that I am dead inside and craving the out-of-area doctor appointment looming this week so I can get a decent prescription.

Fight Dogs, I'm For Ya

2011-10-01T21:34:00.000-05:00

Last week I broke my left big toe.

It was painful, and I cried much after the fact.

I asked, nay, begged, to be allowed to get medical attention, only to be told that if I did, I should expect my things to be destroyed and new locks on the doors (to my own house, nevertheless!), and I would be arrested for "trespassing". What the fuck...?

This lovely news was brought to me by my mother who has been living with us for over a year now. What started out as an "I need a place to stay for the weekend" has turned into a thirteen month nightmare with me as the catalyst. My mother dislikes me. Down right hates me. I've known that for twenty-six years, and that is not what bothers me. What bothers me is how well she has everyone else convinced that I am the Ultimate Evil and how she is the innocent victim.

It also bothers me that my brother in law is back to screwing around with his ex, who abused the ever loving shit out of this entire dysfunctional family for eight years and how he did nothing to stop it. She's back, with him in her clutches, and there's nothing I can do but cut him loose. When I found this out as I was being wheeled down to radiology, I slammed on the breaks of the wheelchair and demanded that he go back and get me a nurse or orderly to take me the rest of the way to radiology. Fuck that shit. I wasn't going to have some one who was as stupid as him take me anywhere.

The sob story came much, much later, when he was telling me this afternoon how his ex has not contacted him since Monday, when she begged a few grand out of him. "And you sent it to her, right?" I asked. He didn't answer that, so I can only feel that he really did give her the money. That's all he is to her, money bags. Rich Idiot, if you will. I promptly told him not to contact me anymore. I don't need that shit in my life at this time.

Upon glancing at his blog, he's in a sexual relationship with someone named Amanda. I wonder if this is his plot to try to say that my friend Mandy is sleeping with him, so I should trust him. Sorry, dude. That doesn't work for me.

I am tempted to move my brother in law in with my mother and let them kill each other. Hey, it's a thought!

There are many thoughts swimming through my mind right now. None that is worthy of being written down, though.

It's Been Done

2011-09-28T08:51:00.001-05:00

I am having some thoughts about this place. About my place in the world. Writing is a chore now. I do it because I feel that I should, not because I actually enjoy doing it. I write to please others. I write out of habit. Before I used to write because I got something out of it. Yes, that's selfish, but it's the only way I can fo it honestly, damnit. I feel that it is the only way artists can do anything good; if it's secretly selfishly for them and them alone. Think about it. How many #1 hit songs overflow the charts every year that are written/intended for the fans? None. It's always about love, lost or new, and the authors.

This whole "writing for a crowd" was good for me. I could express all that was on my mind, and people really enjoyed reading it. I enjoyed sharing. I enjoyed the sport, the art, of writing. Now I look at my paper on what I need to cover, just to be on top of things.

My life is not that particularly interesting. I will probably never have a movie or a novel made about my life, unless I write the book or I make the movie. I share a life that is identical to every other person in the world. Struggles, a family, life. What have I done that thousands or millions before me haven't already done? Millions after me will do the same things. The same is true with my thoughts. Others will have these same thoughts on the world. There's nothing unique about me.

I would be kidding myself if I said that I thought I had a unique outlook on life, because I have been dealt a bad hand, but I know that I do not. I do not want to become another cookie-cutter ex-addict, ex-escort on the web telling their tale of woe. That was one thing that I thought separated me from the others. I have a better outlook on life, not because I was all those things, but because I survived them and had a better outlook on life before, during and after. There was nor has been many things that would turn me bitter. Not even my health crisis afterwards.

In the end, it's all about being done, isn't it?

Paper Dragons

2011-09-21T02:40:00.000-05:00

A Decade Later

2011-09-11T22:49:00.001-05:00

I was a junior in college when 9/11 happened. I had the day off from studies, and my step-father woke me to herd the family into the bomb shelter he built, in case the country was to be destroyed by terrorists. When I returned to classes, there were TVs all over the school, tuned in to various news sources, should there actually be any war or other emergency. I lost a good friend that day. Someone I had only saw two months prior to the attacks, who had expressed an interest in me, and wanted to make me his wife. I miss him every day. It never gets any easier. I blocked out 9/11 until this past January, when I forced myself to watch videos of the towers crash down. I cried, for the very first time, over 9/11 years after it happened. I have been to the World Trade Towers, both before and after 9/11. Maybe some day I will reflect on those days. But not today. I kept a blog back then, ironically, on Blogspot, and somewhere my entry is floating out there in cyberspace, probably on my neglected, abused and worn out domain. I am going to clean that domain up some day. I don't know when, for sure, but I will get it done. Procrastination is my greatest friend, sometimes. :) I leave you with images from my friend from the 100th floor of one of the towers. He perished where he worked. These images have haunted the web since 2000.

Annie's Song

2011-08-31T22:32:00.000-05:00

Another video for her.

Mandy

2011-08-28T05:44:00.000-05:00

For someone. She knows who she is. :)

Surprises

2011-08-24T21:45:00.000-05:00

I have been sleepy all day. Exhausted is a better word for it, because I can't fight the sleepiness and I frequently keel over where I can and sleep until someone wakes me up. This past sleep-fest was none other than my phone ringing off the hook. I woke up, jumped out of the bed, knocked the padded rail off the bed, and rushed to my desk just in time to see the lovely "MISSED CALL" slide across my screen. Unlocking the phone, I saw that I had missed several calls today. All from my husband. Frowning, I checked my voice mail, and to my annoyance, he had not left any messages for me. So... he has time to call me several times in the day, but not enough time to leave a voice message for me? How annoying!

I was scrolling through the messages when he called a twelfth time. This time I was able to answer it. He was all excited about something he had picked up in his journeys overseas in England. He told me that it was my anniversary present, which is a little over two months away. But he has a three-day party planned for us, while we work around some of his shows. Three days to celebrate our love that has been legally bonded for five years. Over those five years, there have been many bumps in the road, but our love is strong enough to bend and we have survived any storm that has come our way.

Love is forever; stay with me babe

I hope that what he has for me is not an erection, however. While I am having dreams that end with me performing lesbian sex in some form or another, I am not really interested in having sex right away. My pussy and ass are both still sore from the last romp that I had, and let's face it: The last time that he was soooo excited to "give" me something, it was his penis, and I ended up pregnant with twins! More kids are the last thing we need right about now. Chloe was sick this afternoon and threw up on the kitchen floor. Something else that I had to clean. Yuck. At least she threw up somewhere where there was no carpet or fabric, and she was on her way to the sink, so I give her credit for trying. Hopefully she's getting the feeling of when she's about to throw up and can get to a sink or toilet before she gets too far past the point of no return.

When the kids saw that I was awake, they all demanded that they be fed. So I fixed them some dinner while I mixed my liquid dinner and the dessert of pills. I barely listened to the babble of the kids during the meal, but ushered them to bed before 9pm. I love surprises, but I sometimes wonder why I put up with the things that I put up with in this family. That lesbian lifestyle is starting to look pretty good from here.

Only the Broken Hearted

2011-08-15T13:11:00.000-05:00

I really wish these stat spammers had their useless sites up their asses. If your product isn't doing so well, don't spam me! I don't care for whatever it is that you're trying to scam others with!

I feel bad, emotionally, today. I wish there were a place I could go to where I didn't feel like I was a pain in the ass of the people I live with. I am just trying to live and survive, and I am referred to as "the pain in the ass". I don't mean to be! I am sick! I am not "taking advantage of" having cancer! If I had a choice, I would choose to not have this disease!

But that is not how I am treated. Right now? I'm still having that double vision, so I can't do anything correctly. I try and try, but with my vision messing up, I really can't do anything other than relax and work on my paper work. I was supposed to start work today, because the professors start some two weeks before the students come back. But no. I had to help out with my mother and she gave me a hard time about that. She then went on to tell me that I needed to give her some money. What? Um, no. I have a small family that I am supporting right now, so I can't help her. When she asked why, I said that I had not gone back to work for the fall, and I had no money. She suggested that I "get off my lazy fat ass" and go job hunting! What the hell...? When I said the only things out there for work was probably Quik Trip or a fast food job, perhaps a job sacking or checking out groceries, she said that was "good enough for me" and I should do it!

IUm... mommie dearest? Perhaps you missed out on the fact that I am doped up because I have cancer?! Did you miss that IV catheter in my arm? What about the medicine patches on my upper arm? Did you forget about the painful bone spurs that have sprouted from my spine? The whole mess upsets me. When I reminded her of all of that, she got pissed off and said that I was "taking advantage of" having cancer. How in the world could I do that?! This is not the first time she has claimed I am taking advantage of this deadly disease. Every time she wants money from me, she tells me how I can work, or should be working. It's really frustrating that I have to put up with these things.

I spent a good amount of time crying over this because my mother is supposed to care about me and be on my side. Not demand money from me, and when I cannot provide that, she claims I am using a deadly disease as an excuse to not get a second or third job to give her money.

I am sorry that I have clouded this blog with my sob story. I hate that I do not have a good relationship with my mother. I wish for almost nothing else in the world, but to be well, live long and into my prime, and to have a good relationship with my mother. I deserve at least those things.

I will write again tomorrow.

Sick Day

2011-08-12T17:36:00.002-05:00

This nausea is really getting bad. I have been sick to my stomach all day. I salivate, but don't throw up. I have been tired all day. I don't know if this is my nerves or my medicine. I am still on treatment medication. I don't know why. The salivation made my mouth and throat dry and I was expected to talk for a while with my mother, then I started getting double vision and she tried to get me to eat all this nasty food that I can't stand. I felt so bad I finally gave in just to get her to stop "suggesting" things for me to do. Eating isn't the best thing to do when one is nauseated. Especially me. Especially when it's something I cannot stand to eat when I feel fine. But to get her to stop suggesting all these medical quackery home remedies, I caved in. Then spend the next few moments after eating, throwing up. I felt worse. I am fatigued, nauseated, and my eyes are still messed up. I feel like I am in a cold sweat, but the air conditioner is frozen up (what else is new???) and I have some work to do online before I can lay down for a while.

In the mail I got a candle from my friend Matt. A Cider Web by Yankee Candle. I think someone's been reading here again. :) It was kind of weak in the scent department, but that's fine.

While I was looking for a lighter to light the wick, I found some other treasures in my desk. Things I never thought I would see again.

Oral Fixation. An oral sex enhancing mint. I wondered where this went to. There were both male and female enjoyment mints. I tingled a tiny bit just thinking about it.

Dead Batteries. That's the name brand of the batteries. They came with my OhMiBod vibrator back in 2008. The package is unopened, so I have to wonder if the batteries are still good. Again, this made me tingle a tad.

Jones Soda candy. Cream soda flavour. I remember this stuff from when I went to Las Vegas one of the many times and this was all I had to eat at the dinner theater. I wasn't too upset over it. I felt a little bad slipping this in my drink and flirting with Auz. Some of the people there who hadn't seen me slip the candy in my own drink thought I was being drugged. It was kind of funny, and a little worrying, since none of the people who saw I had what appeared to be drugs in my drink yet they didn't tell me about it.

Oh, and before I sign off for a little while, photos of the candle:

Macro without a flash. Better?

Time to go lay down. I'm getting a headache.

Coconut Flowers

2011-08-10T22:16:00.001-05:00

This post is duplicated on my domain.

I first want to apologise for the downtime. I hope it was because my hosts were molesting the server and I am getting a new Plesk install and a control panel. But truth be told it was all that data base tinkering I did yesterday that clogged the server. *hangs head* I always feel like I don't know what I am doing when I play around with computers and servers and the like, and there's a good possibility that is true, when they malfunction the next day. Feel free to get out the ruler and give me a good spanking.

The summer is finally winding down. We had some severe weather last night that went on for almost an hour or so. My air conditioner system was frozen up (typical of triple degree temperatures!), so I sweltered in the hot, dark night, watching Saw 3D and writing a list of things to take to my doctor tomorrow. I also rummaged through some of my stuff looking for the loose ends that I needed to clean up before school starts this fall.

Tonight, Chloe wanted her hair washed and conditioned with the coconut shampoo and conditioner. She also wanted to use the Caress bath wash because she liked how it made momma smell after a bath. I told her she smelled like coconut flowers. That made her night and she skipped away in her pony-print pajamas, holding her pink bear. I am so good at this mommy stuff sometimes!

Little James is sick again. He's not getting out of bed much and complaining about being "warm all over". So it's off to the doctor's with him on Thursday afternoon. I'm afraid he has a bacterial infection somewhere. I've given him some Tylenol for the fever and the pain, but that was a few hours ago. He's back complaining of the pain and warmth again. I'm making him some sweet lemon tea to settle his stomach for now.

Dennis is somewhat ignoring me. He won't answer his phone, and he refuses to call me except at times when he knows that I can't talk on the phone. It really bothers me that he is doing this. I almost have to ask if Trevor is back. It's times like this when I ask God for help, but it has been so long since God has answered me that I sometimes wonder if God has turned His back on me. So many times I have asked for His help with my marriage, He has not answered me, nor has the situation improved any. I know that I am just impatient, but I don't want to think that way anymore. I don't want to think that God has turned his back on me. God doesn't do these things. I am looking for Scripture that has something to do with marriage worries, but I cannot find any. If anyone wants to help point me to some Scriptures that have helped them with relationship worries, I'd appreciate it.

Yes, I know that Google.com exists, but I would feel better to get some live feedback from people that, I assume, have been reading about my situation for the last few years. Ever since our little PoRo died, our marriage hasn't been the same. I sometimes wonder if the relationship was falling apart because she died, or was it falling apart all along and we just didn't know about it?

Early Jumpstart

2011-08-08T19:53:00.000-05:00

To get an early jump-start on the fall seasons, I've ordered some fall-scented candles. I won't say what ones, that's a surprise, but I have ordered a pair of them that I think will smell wonderful together. I have another two that I want to pick up at the store, but only because I love visiting the store.

Is it just me, or has the fall season started earlier and earlier as time goes on? How many people have Halloween candy in their stores already?

Why Can't We Be Friends?

2011-07-28T15:24:00.000-05:00

In the spring of 1994, just days before my cancer-removal surgery, I was approached in middle school by a classmate that I knew vaguely. He was somewhat nice to me, but mostly slung insults at me at every chance he got. I normally ignored him. Until one day when I was sick from my tumors and I wasn't up for his shit. He slung his usual slew of insults at me, and I said these words exactly:
"Shut up, you stupid fuck!"
I began to walk away.
Suddenly, I was hit in the back of the head, hard, and I turned around to see the 15 year old behind me (I was 13 at the time), with his fist doubled up to hit me again. I turned to run, and he grabbed my hair, and pulled me to the ground. Kicking me mercilessly for several seconds, as another of his friends joined in. As I rolled over to get up, his friend was holding me down, encouraging Mr. Violent to do something. All I heard was "do it! I gott'er! DO IT!". Violent's friend's girlfriend had appeared out of nowhere and was also holding me down. Then I saw Violent's hand above me, as if he was going to strike me, I turned away, still struggling, then I felt a burning, throbbing, piercing pain in my side. Looking down, I saw the guy had stabbed me in the side, as his friend and his friend's girlfriend were still holding me down. "You deserve to die, white ho! Who the hell you think you callin' STUPID???" he was screaming at me.

My useless uncle walked up to the mess, and pulled me up, bitching at me for getting out of school late. He pulled me to the car, ignoring the gaping, bleeding hole in my side. Once home, I tried to reach my parents at their work, but I got the same message: "They're working. They can't come to the phone." Oh. Right. Fine. I called 911. I had what appeared to be a smudge of blood on my side. I had been stabbed with a stick or a pen; something pointed and cylinder-shaped. It was a hole, a tiny hole, in my side. Five stitches and a bitching session from my parents when they found out that I was in the hospital and thusly costing them precious money, later, I found out the next day that I was being expelled from the school.

Apparently, I had made a racial slur towards this guy, and that gave him the right to stab me with the closest possible object while two others held me down. In this case, it was a stick, so he hadn't violated the school's rules by bringing a weapon to school. He told the principal that I called him a racial slur, and I tripped and fell on the stick. Bullshit. I saw his hand on it. I saw him holding his hand above me before it happened. I fell on nothing but the pavement. Plus, the stick had been stabbed in the opposite side that I had fallen on. Explain that. I with drew from that school. The girlfriend was suspended. Her boyfriend had run away from home. Mr. Violent returned to class the next day to scout out some other victim to harass mercilessly and then stab and threaten to kill them when they fought back, verbally. Probably another fair skinned, blue eyed girl, two years younger than him and suffering from cancer.

This man single-handedly jumpstarted my downward spiral. He caused my insane, schizo mother to put me in those insane holy-roller schools, where I was emotionally tortured and verbally abused for several months. I became fearful of my life. I became suicidal. I wanted to end my life because my existence had been so damned bad for so long that I could feel nothing other than misery. But it wasn't to end there.

After therapy, drugs, hospitals, and intense love from my husband, I was able to pull out of the mess that was my life for so long. I was able to laugh again. I was softened again. I was able to smile. I was able to enjoy the sunshine. I could smell the beautiful aromas from the flowers again. I could see the rainbows after the storms again. Life was something I wanted to live and experience once more.

Then this afternoon I saw where this man had tried to friend me on Facebook.

His request opened up a whole new world for me. I had some closure, and some new fears.

He moved clear across the country. He was no longer within walking distance of me. He had gone to college. Gotten a Bachelor's in something. He looks perfectly normal for a lying, psychotic, attempted murderer of white girls. Then I saw the part of his profile that made shivers run down my spine. He has a "wife". I assume she is his wife, since there are numerous photos of them together kissing, holding hands, and lounging in bed. He also has a daughter. I fear for these women. Does his wife know who she is with? Does she know his past? Probably not, if they have a daughter together. What made me shudder more was wondering if she knew and it didn't bother her. Many women marry liars, willingly. Many women marry abusers, willingly. But is there a woman out there who marries an attempted murderer? That can't be normal. What if she says the magic word? What if she says "stupid"? Or the little girl? "Stupid" is a common word for children, and it sets that man off completely.

I hope he's gotten help, for his new family's sake. But something tells me that he never got help. It amazes me that he is clean-cut, looks nice, friendly, but I can see something no one else can see. I can see the hatred. I can see it burning in his eyes. He has a lot of hatred in him. It's sad that I am the only one who can see this.

I didn't add him as a friend on Facebook, naturally. I'd have to be insane to do that. My phone number and address are available on there, and the last thing I need is him showing up at my door. He's one of the many people I have forgiven, but not forgotten.