Socks and Chocolate

THERE.IT.IS.AGAIN

2011-05-11T19:55:00.000-07:00

Is anybody else going to be glad when tomorrow comes?!

This Google tribute to Martha Graham has about made me schizophrenic. I like the ones you can CHOOSE to animate, but this one....AHHHHHHHH! I've been shielding my eyes like you do when you're driving into the sun.....when I remember.

But I forget and...can barely say it...THERE.IT.IS.AGAIN.

"Please stop dancing. Please, please, please stop dancing," she says with a flinch and a twitch in one eye.

Unwanted

2011-05-09T18:50:00.000-07:00

Not sure why, but this pic made me just sit at my PC and bawl. Seen LOTS worse images lately. Lots worse. But this one just got to me.

Been reading about the plight of unwanted dogs, cats and other animals. What some of these animals go through is enough to make me physically ill. Makes me ashamed to be part of the human race. Makes me hate this world more than I already did. Be glad when this trip is over. I do not like it here on good old Planet Earth.

A Busy April

2011-05-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

Whew. Never thought any month could wear me out like the month of December does, but April 2011 has it beat. Busiest April I've ever had in my entire 50 years on the planet. I'm pooped! Sorry for being MIA on my favorite blogs. Been reading when I can. Looking forward to things getting back to normal!

Doors

2011-02-28T02:24:00.000-08:00

7 “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened." Matthew 7:7-8

But God, there are so many doors. I finally find the one I'm looking for and throw my body against it. Oh, God. Let it be true. Let it be true. I unfurl my fists and place my hot palms against the door. As I roll my head to the side, slowly transferring pressure from my forehead to my cheek, I ask myself, "Do I really want to do this? Am I ready? Will the door really open?"

It only takes a second for me to decide. Leaving my cheek against the door, I curl my right hand into a fist and knock. Without waiting for an answer, I curl my left hand into a fist and hit the door so hard my skin goes numb for a moment. Then I begin to bang with both fists. Pounding and pounding. Screaming at the top of my lungs, "Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!" Tears begin to roll down my cheeks and tight sobs barely clear my throat. Then it happens.

The door opens. I fall forward and stumble...right into His arms. I begin to cry out, "Please heal my little girl. Please heal her"...over and over, then..."Please take away her pain. Please take away OUR pain." Then from a distance I see it...like a movie. He gathers us...the husband, the daughter and me...into his arms. He holds us close, like infants.

I continue to cry out to Him, "Please take away our pain. Please take away our pain. We've hurt so much. She's been through so much. You've seen her tears. You saw her march up to her room to pray that day. She was so little....maybe 7 or 8. You heard her fierce little prayer...asking you to heal her. I could hear her too and all I could do was cry. God, please take away this pain."

Fade out. Suddenly I'm before another door. I know what's behind it. I know what I'm asking for and I'm afraid. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. Do I have the faith for this? No. But my mother's heart makes me do it. I begin again. Pounding as hard as I can and screaming, "Let me in! Let me in!" The door flies open and it's as dark as a cave. I see nothing.

"God, where are they? I don't see them". My stomach sinks. Oh, no. I wasn't ready. They aren't here. Deep sigh. It's just as well. I wouldn't know what to do with them if I found them. I'm just a mom. Not a doctor. Not God. So what if I found a room filled with beautiful, perfectly normal CF genes. What would I do? Carry them box by box to her room? Tear off the tape and show them to her? Look honey, new CF genes. They're yours. See, He Sharpied your name on the boxes and everything. Aren't they beautiful?"

But God, I knocked. The door opened. Please tell me it's time. We've waited so long. We've asked and we've believed....for 14 years. I know it's not like waiting 25 years, but 14 yrs. is a long time. What do I do God? It's just darkness. I see nothing in here. Where ARE they? Tell me what to do. You own the cattle on a thousand hills. You smile and universes are created. What are a few CF genes to you? Nothing. All the sudden I see something. Was it a ghost? It looked like a small mist or a fog racing past me. Then nothing.

I continue to pray. I pray for long time. I cry. Remembering all the pain. Hers and ours. It's hard. Hard to have pain for so many years. To grieve for our only child's death before she's even dead. To feel a faint but constant fear 24/7. The dread of knowing with each passing day you draw closer, closer to the time you have to hold her hand and tell her goodbye. Watch her drift off into eternity.

I sob. It shouldn't be so. I get up off my bed, walk over to the computer and write. Maybe it will make me feel better. To get it out.

Am I crazy to believe? To believe God will heal her? Maybe. But I do believe it. Some would say it's denial, not faith. So what. What if it is? Don't judge me until you've walked in my shoes. Why wouldn't I want a miracle? That's all the hope I've got unless they find a cure. I won't deny her medical care. I won't sugarcoat anything. But with a dogged faith, I will believe and keep on believing in miracles until the day she dies. And I will keep pounding on Heaven's doors. Pounding and pounding. Until my fists are bloody. For her. For us.

1"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1

Tizzy is the Word

2011-02-21T12:21:00.000-08:00

Weird week. Dealing with extended family stressors. BP has been high. Lots of anxiety over BP being high. New crazy med made me totally wacky one day...bad wacky, not cute wacky. Made a drastic change in my diet. Going back to healthy food....organic, whole foods, wheatgrass and all that....which is a good thing, but my body is freaking out(so is my wallet).

Tizzy is the word. I'm simply in a tizzy. Despite that, I'm kinda happy today. Temps are perfect. Wind is blowing. Going to hear the daughter play in her youth symphony tonight. Get to spend a couple of hours alone with the husband beforehand. As usual, the old AS/ADD head is swimming, but I'm holding it together, and that's good. Really good. Maybe this coming week is going to be better.

Image from Crazy Cat Face Cartoons

She Needs a Blog!

2011-02-03T16:41:00.000-08:00

Recent Facebook post from one of my dear old childhood friends:

"So it seems that our neighbors' beat-up, half dead rooster (he got in a fight with a tom turkey) wandered into our pasture. When the cows saw it and went to investigate, they circled around it, sniffed it, then when it moved or jumped, they ran screaming to the top of the hill, waited awhile, then returned and repeated. All day. Farm life just doesn't get much more exciting than that....."

My friend lives on a small farm and is a natural storyteller. She's a real character and has always made me laugh. She's not just good at telling stories about her farm and grandkids, she's good at telling jokes too. When we were teenagers, she once got on a roll and told about a hundred in a row. Not kidding. She had my stomach hurting. Her FB posts always give me a chuckle and leave me wanting more. She needs a blog! Keep trying to get her to do one. If I ever succeed, I'll let you know where to find her!

Little Words

2011-02-02T20:39:00.000-08:00

I changed the little words under my blog title. The words I had made this blog sound all warm and cozy....made images of sweet ladies in rocking chairs, covered in hand stitched blankets, holding kittens and drinking hot chocolate pop into my mind. It IS a rather mild blog compared to some I've done, but it isn't about socks OR chocolate or anything particularly warm and cozy. It's kinda like the show Seinfeld. It's a blog about nothing.

It started as an exercise in self-discipline. I challenged myself to post for 365 consecutive days....and I did. After 365 days, I was attached to the blog and didn't want to bury it. I've held funeral services for more than my fair share of blogs. No. I decided it wasn't right to shut it down. BUT, I have decided it needs an update and I am starting with the little words under the title.

I was afraid the title and little words underneath were misleading. Made it sound like a blog about knitting, embroidery, recipes and household tips. Or I thought it sounded like a feel good blog full of warmth and wisdom. I wish. I'm not nearly so talented as to pull off any of that. I just didn't want anybody to be let down after they saw the little words. So, today I changed them. I don't know. Not sure I'll keep them. I'm just experimenting.

About not wanting my blog to seem like it's all warm and fuzzy, please don't get me wrong. If you could look through my window you would often find me covered in an old hand stitched blanket holding a kitty or a dog. I like warm, cozy, kittens, fires in fireplaces, and hot chocolate. A lot. I just don't want anybody to get the idea that this blog is only about sugar and spice and everything nice. Cause it isn't.

It isn't about anything really. It's simply a place I come to check in on my blogging friends(I don't do readers). A place I come to write a little. Hang out. Kill some time. Ponder. Sit and stare. It's a sort of anchor. A place I know will be there. Guess it's kinda like my online home. Hum, maybe it IS more than just a boring blog. Sigh. I don't know. Might have to change my little words again.

Milestones

2011-01-24T13:29:00.000-08:00

My baby just got her Learner's Permit.....:D :'( :| :)

Six Weeks and Counting

2011-01-17T20:07:00.000-08:00

Six weeks and counting. I'm talking about my teeth...and pain. The extraction site FINALLY quit hurting a few days ago when a small hole in it completely closed up. Not sure why it took so long to heal. Maybe because I have diabetes? Until the hole closed I had pain. Pain that ranged from a level 5 to an 8. Enough pain that I've been taking 800mg of Ibuprofen every 4 to 6 hours for almost six weeks.

It's been a nightmare. And it isn't over. Due to the change in my bite and my nighttime tooth grinding, I now have a newly cracked tooth and an old cracked tooth that are acting up. For two weeks the newly cracked tooth hurt almost as badly as the abscess did, but the dentist said I didn't need a root canal in either tooth. He finally made a significant adjustment in my bite and then told me that like a sprained ankle, it would take time for the teeth to quit hurting. He suggested a night guard. That I can remember he has never mentioned a night guard, despite the fact that he knew the molar he extracted was cracked right down the middle....from tooth grinding. I didn't know I had bruxism. Would have been nice to know this little tidbit a few YEARS ago instead of last Thursday.

Anyhow, the ongoing pain is wearing me down. I have cried more in the last six weeks than I've cried in the last two or three years put together. And I'm so tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. I just want it to stop. To end. Hopefully I will be able to find a new dentist I can trust and be comfortable with. I'm actively looking for one. I dislike change, but I don't think I have a choice on this one.

Ouch

2010-12-05T16:56:00.001-08:00

Tooth abscess + tooth extraction = OUCH! Lost all of last week to a tooth abscess. At times the pain was so bad that I couldn't see. I mean, I could see, but nothing registered with my brain. 800mg of ibuprofen + prescription pain meds only knocked it out for three hours at a time. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. Thank goodness I had only three days of that kind of pain.

Not sure why my dentist couldn't see me sooner. I was a bit bugged about that. Might be time to change dentists? Or maybe I just need to be more assertive. Not worry so much about sounding like a whiner. I don't know. Thing is, I've seen this dentist for twenty years. He got me over my fear of dentists for which I'm very grateful. He's a brilliant man and very kind. Plus, I tend to be your loyal sort. Hate change.

Anyhow, the swelling is gone and I've got my lovely long swan neck back. Kidding. In my dreams. Never had any neck to speak of. It vanished completely(on one side) with all the swelling. At least I no longer look like a chipmunk!

The Whisper

2010-11-03T10:29:00.000-07:00

Death. It's whispered my name a hundred times. Be it trying to woo me into succumbing or be it wooing those I love. It's seductive, death. It makes all kinds of promises. I'll make your pain go away. I'll take you away to paradise. You won't have to deal with anymore rejection or pain or problems. Here, let me help you. I'm not fickle. I'LL be there for you. Like a diamond, I'm forever. Trust me.

I've never known life without death. Since I was a small child my momma wanted to die. Just this past week I had to make her promise not to take her own life. It's not the first time. It won't be the last. My sister wanted to die once. And a best friend. My dad DID take his own life when I was 20 years old. Another loved one has succumbed. A week ago tomorrow my sister-in-law took her own life. I'm raw and exhausted. I wish death would just leave me alone. At least the kind that makes people walk out on life.

My sister-in-law left behind two children...a 13 yr. old girl and a 15 yr. old boy. I know exactly what they are going through. It's a nightmare. To have a parent choose to leave you in the most horrid of ways. To have a parent set that kind of example for you. They are walking through a very dark time. And it will probably be dark for years to come. I hope they will talk. Talk it out. Let somebody help them. If they don't, I'm afraid the whisper will begin for them.

Sometimes

2010-10-18T08:52:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I'd like to be a dog. They never worry about their life's purpose, if they are doing things right, if anybody likes them or not, what their face looks like, how much they weigh, how they smell, or what kind of house they live in. No body dysmporphic disorder, eating disorders or suicidal feelings for dogs. Nope. They seem pretty well adjusted and happy most of the time.

It would sure be nice to curl up all day and not feel guilty. To snuggle in with your favorite person and effortlessly give and receive love. Be nice not to worry incessantly. To know exactly what your job is...to bark when you see something exciting or threatening. To sleep. Eat. Love. Be loved. Right up until the day you die.

Yep. Today I'd like to be a dog. A cute little chihuahua. Curled up at my master's feet. Asleep. Peaceful. Trusting. Content. Knowing that when I wake up everything will be alright. Just like it was yesterday. Just like it will be tomorrow.

The Hum

2010-09-30T20:37:00.000-07:00

There is a hum, a dull boring hum about my life right now. Messes with my reality. Makes me feel weird. I'm scared of the hum. Feels like it will open up it's mouth and swallow me in one big gulp and I'll just disappear. Anybody else get the hum? It's like boredom, but noisy. And my psychiatrist assures me...like, double triple assures me...that I'm not schizophrenic or anything. So it's not that. It's like my boredom and loneliness are audible, but the sound is all internal. Like tinnitus. It's a little like the feeling you get right before a panic attack but the panic attack never comes. Does this have something to do with asperger? I don't know. Maybe I just need to get out more.

Progress

2010-09-13T04:53:00.000-07:00

We got together at my mom's to watch the Tennessee vs Oregon game and celebrate my birthday. Mom's house is about the size of a matchbox. She can't hear well, so her TV is loud. There were five adults and two teenagers squeezing past each other to get pizza and drinks. My sis had her new boyfriend with her. The husband was late and in an unfriendly mood.

I did the best I could, but ended up tearing off six fingernails. Burned a few calories by constantly shaking my leg and foot. At halftime the teens went back to the bedroom to watch a movie. I moved over to the empty spot next to my sister. Mom got my birthday cards and I quickly opened them, eager to get the attention off my movements.

I thanked everybody and extended a hand to my sis, thanking her again for her especially sweet card. She gently held my hand for a while. I let her. It was calming and comforting. She leaned over and asked me quietly, "Are you okay?". I was overwhelmed with gratefulness. She seemed to "get" that I was suffering. Of course I lied and told her I was okay.

I'm still not there. I'm still not able to say, "No, I'm not ok. I'm in hell at the moment." Maybe I never will get to that place, but it seems folks are slowly starting to understand, starting to get what I've been telling them about AS, and that is real progress.

I Made It

2010-09-02T15:55:00.000-07:00

Whew. I made it to fifty. Hopefully the curse has lifted.

You've Got Mail

2010-08-24T05:59:00.000-07:00

I was all excited about my Etsy shops. Got them stocked. Sold a few things....and froze. Fear of success? Lazy? Can't handle it when people want to make a return? No. Fear of the postal worker.

I have a fear of postal workers. No. I'm not afraid they are going to shoot me. It's that they never smile. They always ask very firmly, "Is there anything liquid, perishable, etc. in your package?" I'm so nervous around people and my eye contact is so bad, that I appear to be up to SOMETHING. It doesn't help that when I'm the least bit nervous I start to sweat.

I just KNOW they think I'm mailing some really good homegrown pot to my friend in Valdosta, Georgia or something. That makes me more nervous. I try really hard to act "normal" but I know I act weird. It's awful. So far no police have been called, no package opened and inspected. It goes ok.

There's more. What if I sell a lot of stuff and start going in all the time. The postal workers will get to know me and start calling me Norm(like in Cheers) when I walk in the door. That should be good right? NO. That means I now have to manage RELATIONSHIPS. I have to smile, chit chat, maintain these superficial relationships. ugggg.

I buy a LOT of stuff from France and Belgium. Foreign postage stamps, antique buttons, and art prints. I'm terrified to go pick them up. Same thing. I'm so nervous about the human interaction that I'm a wreck. I sweat, make poor eye contact, and appear to be up to something. I'm sure they think I'm ordering foreign porn or drugs and will....what? Do what? I don't know. It's silly isn't it? But it never gets any better. As often as possible I send the daughter in or talk the husband into doing it.

I love selling my stuff, but I DREAD, DREAD, DREAD going to the post office. Sometimes I hate myself. No. Sometimes I hate this damned Asperger.

***Edit: I used to be this way about going to Walmart. All the people and chaos made me anxious. I would dread the check out lady just about as much as the postal worker. As I approached the checkout, sweat would pour. Do I say hello? Do I make eye contact? Do I try to chit chat? I've conquered the Walmart worker. I've found that most of them are tired and want to go home.

The Walmart worker usually says, "Hi, how are you?". One day I had the presence of mind to say that I was fine and ask the lady how she was doing. She talked her head off while she checked me out. Most of them will. Every now and then one of them will be fine and direct the mini conversation back to me. That throws me. But for the most part, check out at Walmart is not a problem anymore. Maybe someday I'll conquer the postal worker.

Network-Still Relevant

2010-08-10T10:15:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite movie scenes.

Ever feel like doing this? Think I'll go open a window.

Ramble

2010-08-02T19:36:00.000-07:00

Since I'm not writing at Melancholy Guest right now, I suppose this is the right place to talk about asperger. MY asperger. The doc I see said she thinks I'm ashamed of it. I don't know if I am or not. I'm certainly not used to it. The label, that is. Life is pretty much the same. Hmmm. Well, not really.

I'm trying to be nicer to myself. More forgiving. Trying not to beat myself up for being socially stupid. I'm allowing myself to isolate. To be quiet. Trying not to feel guilty about asking the fam to be quieter. I'm trying to stop trying to figure out what facial expression I should have as I walk through a store...or anywhere.

I'm allowing myself NOT to smile if I don't want to. I HATE smiling. I might feel happy inside, but I hate to make a smile. It's like my face isn't wired for it. I try to smile...and I do...but it's not natural. It feels weird. Uncomfortable. I DO have a natural smile. Mostly animals and children bring it out. But it's not a big smile. It looks like I'm beginning to smile but stopped. My teeth never show. Hard to explain.

When I was younger I was told many times, "You should smile more. You have a really pretty smile." huh? That statement always confused me. I thought I DID smile. I'd think to myself, "WHAT are they TALKING about?!" I thought I smiled, but now I know I never did really smile. So, maybe they caught me laughing or something? I don't know. I DO laugh. Laughing is different from smiling. I can laugh with the best of them. Oh, and I can also giggle. Rarely do it, but it DOES happen sometimes.

So, I'm not really ashamed of my AS. I just don't understand it yet. I mean, I know what makes me have AS, but I don't KNOW what makes me have AS. Hard to explain. It's like I don't know myself anymore, but I'm still me. I guess I'm having to learn to see myself a new way. Be nicer to myself. Less embarrassed and ashamed of my oddities. I just said ashamed didn't I? But I was ashamed BEFORE I knew I had AS. I hated myself...thoroughly...for my social awkwardness. I think I'm actually LESS ashamed now. AS just confuses me about me. Oh, I don't know what I mean.

Suddenly frustrated, tired and out of words. Second try on this post. Best I can do. Over and out.

Update on the Daughter

2010-07-31T18:47:00.001-07:00

One lung was infected, so the daughter has a picc line. There is a lot of good to report though. One lung was perfect. It's been a long time since we've seen a perfect lung. Also, the daughter didn't cry. She always cries. She's always beside herself with dread and nerves. It's the first time she's never cried and the most calm she's ever been. She had lots of visitors while she was in the hospital. That made her happy. The treatments themselves are going well. So far, so good and only nine more days to go!

Bronch Time

2010-07-23T14:42:00.000-07:00

Well, it's bronchoscopy time. The daughter goes in Monday morning. This year we don't know what to expect, because for the first time in eight years, the docs say we MIGHT not have to do a picc line. Not sure how I feel about that.

For one thing, I like knowing what to expect. For another, she starts school feeling great and with a little more ability to fight things off. At the same time, it would be nice for her not to get a picc line. She's not had a full summer vacation since she was five or six years old. She always loses two weeks of it to a picc line.

The reason we MIGHT not have to do one is that her lung function has been so good lately. The study drug is doing its thing. It's amazing really. She might be coughing and not seem so great, but her lung function will be very high. Like as high or higher than a "normal" person's. I think this is going to be a very good drug for CF.

Well, don't know what else to say.

The Future

2010-07-13T19:39:00.001-07:00

I'm always second guessing myself. Not sure I said what I wanted to say the way I wanted to say it.

About my last post. I am honored to be a mom and especially the mom of a child with special needs. That God would trust me with a child who needs more, humbles me. I hate her disease. I hate what it does to her. Tears me apart to see her afraid. To see her attached to all sorts of gadgets and machines. To know this is never going away. That she will be dealing with this long after I'm gone...hopefully.

I've always had a tendency toward depression. Major depression has plagued me since I was a teen. I've lost my life to it. Not without a fight mind you. I have fought it every step of the way. And I'll continue to fight it. Same with cystic fibrosis. We have fought it every step of the way and we'll continue to fight it.

Just because I feel some hope for MY life doesn't mean I'm giving up on the life I have. It means that maybe the darkness is lifting. The darkness that settled upon me when she had to have a port and 3 months of continuous IVs. I think she was nine. That was the year she was put to sleep at least six times. There was nothing I could do to take any of it away or make it better.

She suffered...a lot...that summer. It was unbearable to me as a mom. I sunk like I've never sunk before. A part of me died. Completely. So did my hope. Hope of there being any more happiness in our lives. It was then that it hit me that she was sick. Really, really sick. And could die. She's going on fifteen. That's six years with zero hope. Zero.

I've been afraid to hope. To make plans. To have dreams. Who knows if she...we...will have a future. A wedding. Grandchildren. College graduation. We just don't know. THAT is what I meant when I said I see light. The light of hope. That maybe, just maybe, my life isn't over. That I can have hopes and dreams again.

I'm ALLOWING myself some pleasure. A small dream. A small hope. Setting a small goal. That is HUGE for me. I am ready to fight for my life. To get through this dreaded damned year. To live. REALLY live again. Not just for me, but for my family. She needs me. She needs me alive and as well as I can be. All she has now is one of the living dead. A mom who is going through the motions. Deadened to hope and dreams. Completely shut down. Afraid to even breathe.

No more. I'm determined to fight harder than ever. The light I see is real. It's been there every day since my last post. The darkness has tried to come, but I'm fighting. Fighting to have my small dreams and goals. To get my life back. It's not selfish of me is it? To want to have a life again? Blood in my veins. A warm heart beating in my chest and bold courage in my soul.

I want to breath again. To go outside. See the sun. The light. I'm tired of living in the dark. If we have a wedding...I want to be here for it. And for college and for grandchildren. For whatever our future...yeah, I said future...holds.

Hope I got it right this time.

Light

2010-07-07T00:06:00.000-07:00

Haven't been around much lately. To all my blogging buddies, I'm sorry I've not been by your blogs in a few days. I WILL return. Love your blogs too much to be gone for long!

I tend to have a one track mind and my mind has been hyperfocused on one thing lately. Actually, two things. My two Etsy shops. I'm making a real and sincere effort to get them stocked. I've got to start selling some stuff so I won't completely drain my savings account buying antique French publications. I'm obsessed with them.

I'm motivated man. MO-TI-VATE-ED. Never have I loved anything so much. Never. Not even buttons or vintage patterns. And I've met the nicest French woman in the world. She sells these old publications. Her very high standards mean that the publications are exquisite. No old ratty stuff. Old wonderful stuff. The publications aren't cheap. SO, I'm motivated to make some money.

All that has ever motivated me to make money in the past was fear. Fear of ending up on the streets. Cars, furs, yachts, European vacations, or expensive clothes never motivated me. Never. I'm just as happy driving a Mazda as a Saab. I've had both. The Saab was cool. Looked great. Fun to drive. But I love, love my Mazda Mommy Van. Couldn't pay me to trade it for a brand spankin' new Saab right now. Yeah. I'm serious.

It feels good to be motivated. And I'm not just motivated. I'm inspired. The woman I've met has such a kind and generous heart that she has inspired me. After feeling dead for so long it feels great to have some drive again. To feel life flowing back into my veins. It's been so long since I've had any dreams or goals that I've almost forgotten what it is like. Maybe, just maybe, my life isn't over yet. MY life. The life I've(willingly)given up for my family. The life I've lost to major depression and to a disease called cystic fibrosis.

I'm almost through this terrible year. The year I've dreaded and feared for nearly thirty years. My 49th year. The age my dad was when he took his own life. I'll be fifty on September 2. I'm about to make it! Maybe things are looking up. Maybe things are about to change...for the better. I'm hopeful. For the first time in decades, I'm really really hopeful. I see a light at the end of the tunnel. It's a faint light, but it's there. I think it's the light of hope.

With Sugar on Top

2010-06-29T16:04:00.000-07:00

Pretty please come see my new blog. I think I will be able to keep this one up. I've put NO pressure on myself to do any writing. It's going to be all pics. I'll only write something about the pics if I feel like it. So far I've posted four times and am enjoying it immensely!

Pretty Please :)

Blog ADHD?

2010-06-27T21:42:00.000-07:00

Along with Asperger, I've been diagnosed with ADHD. I have trouble sorting, separating, focusing, generally going in a straight line or going at all. My mind moves fast and goes all over the place. On good days I enjoy this. On bad days I want somebody to shoot me and put me out of my misery.

I think one of my problems with blogs is the ADHD. I can't decide what to write, when to write, or where to write. I do best when a blog has one theme. I got lotsa themes in my head. I want to talk about so many things that one blog won't do it. But when I get more than one blog going, I feel anxious and confused. Distracted.

Still, I feel like I need a blog for everything...one about cystic fibrosis, one about Asperger, one about growing up with mentally ill parents and my own struggles with depression, one about Mia my rescue cat, a fun blog...I could go on. Do you see my problem?

One blog won't do, but I can't seem to handle even one. I get so confused and frustrated. I want to talk, but I don't know what...which thing...to talk about. I want to talk about everything and pretty much end up talking about nothing. Don't know if this makes any sense.

2010-06-26T01:45:00.000-07:00

Ok. So I can't do it. The new blog...Melancholy Guest. At some point I will, but until the daughter is grown, I think I'll have to put it aside. Can't have any major nervous breakdowns while she's still at home. And if I write what I really need to write, I'm sure every nerve in my body will break down. It will wait.

SOooooo. I've decided to go the other direction. I've decided I'm going to let my lighter side out(Laughing in my head right here. How light can my lighter side be? Like, dark gray? Haha) No, I'm not going to let my lighter side out here. I like starting new blogs too much.

So, if you look over to the right you'll see my new blog. It's called "Blog No. 10...Some call it hoarding. I call it collecting". It's going to be a blog of images. Images of stuff I like, own, wish I owned, collect, etc. NO sadness. I declare it a happy place...well, at least a place no darker than dark gray.

The pic is clickable and will take you directly to the blog. Please come and see me there.