Rest in peace, sweet lady....

You know... you think you have everything all figured out in your life.  And even when you're sure your life just royally sucks, and there's nothing you or anyone else can do to make it better, God finds a way to remind you that it could always be worse.  And sometimes I get angry at him.  Things shouldn't have to be so hard.  The world is filled with so much pain and sadness.  And I'm so sick of people feeling sorry for themselves and blaming anyone and anything for their own weaknesses.  Just live your life the way you want.  Have enough pride in yourself to stand up and hold yourself accountable for your own decisions.  But more than anything, we really need to stop wasting our lives focusing on ourselves. 

I changed jobs about a year after I moved back here.  And when I did, it moved me from one town into the next.  They were in opposite directions, so my mother reminded me of a lady who I'd known for years from her church that lived in the new town and would be perfect to leave Bella with instead of having to take her all the way into the previous town to her daycare. 

The lady is only a couple years older than me and has always lived at home with her parents.  They have a HUGE family... a huge family of fuck-ups.  Together, she and her mother are the only  people who hold the family together.  Brothers on drugs, sisters screwing anything that will stand still long enough resulting in unwanted babies that have always somehow ended up in the care of the mother and daughter at home. 

The most lovingly warm people you could ever know.  So wonderful and caring... sweet.... there's nothing they would not do for anyone, even a stranger in need.  The person who really held it all together for the lot of them is the mother.  Bella calls her "mammaw", and I don't think I ever left her house after picking Bella up without the little old lady hugging me and telling me to be careful.  Her house is always warm.. always smells like something's baking.  She has always said that Bella was the one kid she WANTED to keep in her house because Bella keeps her company! 

Mammaw was diagnosed with Lupus just a few months ago, and has been pretty sick off and on since then.  And then yesterday she became really ill and was rushed to the hospital.  They flew her out to an even bigger one later last night. 

I just got a call from my sister telling me she died.  She just died.  She was gone that quickly... everything just shut down, and now she's gone. 

Bella will be heartbroken.  I thought it had been a rough day today.  Tons of tears and stress on my part.  It was nothing compared to now. 

But if ever there was someone to look up to... to aspire to be like... it would be her.  If there was a single person on earth I could think of that was the most unselfish, giving, understanding person... it would have been her.  And I don't understand why God would take someone so special, and leave so many hateful mean people here.  If I could touch just a fraction of the hearts she touched in her life, I'd feel like my life has mattered when it's time to go.  She doesn't have to worry about anyone now.  She doesn't have to take care of anyone anymore.  I know she's getting the rest she deserves. 

We don't get warning when it is time to go... maybe we should remember that.

Things have been really hectic around here lately... part of which was a trip down to Atlanta to see my ex-mother-in-law who seems to be refusing to let go.  I don't know, I guess I'm not really forcing her to let go even though she was never a very good person while I was married to her son.  Maybe she's trying to make up for that.  Who am I to judge, right?  The reason for meeting her the day after I had wisdom teeth cut out of my mouth... (a meeting Terry drove me to.... god bless him)... she had a gift for me.  Upon hearing Bella go on and on about our loss of Tinkerbell, she decided we needed a new puppy.  At first it really irritated me because that's just not a gift you give someone without clearing that it's ok firstl!  And I'd made up my mind that I did not want the responsibilty of another puppy.... that as much as I loved Tink, it was really hard to give her the attention she needed sometimes.  But, well, you don't really tell someone like her "no".  She's a very overbearing, loud person.  And so we went to Atlanta to meet her there in order to pick up the newest addition to our family.  We are now back up to dog, bird,  and fish inside our house.  ugh....  But could you really resist him???  Say hello to Mr. Limpet.... (long story but if you saw his little floppy ear and his quirky personality, you'd get it)

I don't think I slept ten minutes last night.  Instead, no matter how hard I fought it, I spent the night crawling deep inside myself and locking the door behind me. 

Sometime, during a weak moment, I allowed myself to be swallowed up by a sadness that I'm just not sure I can get away from.  I'm sure it's just because I've allowed negative emotions to build up when I know all that does is cause me to end up marinading in my own misery alone.  

I know better.  For me, the only way to stay sane in this world is to allow myself to feel everything I need to feel.  Instead of allowing the agony to slowly seep into my soul, I should have acknowledged it, given in to its fifteen minutes, and then moved on.  What I did was ignore it and let it build up until now it's consuming me inside and out. 

I can't cry.  I have tears, and they fall, but I can't cry.  So much going on right now, and it's so hard to focus on the important.  I feel like I'm being pulled apart, and I'm going to end up in a million tiny pieces scattered to the far corners of the world. 

To say I'm headed for a breakdown would be a horrible understatement.  I need some time to fall apart.  I need to be able to let it overwhelm me, and then I need tme to pick myself back up again. 

Hopefully soon I'll be able to grab a day or two to head a search party for my sanity.  I'd say I need a vacation, but it won't be a vacation at all.  It will be a self-intervention.  Just a strange one. 

I'm going to force myself to NOT be strong... convince myself to fall apart.  I'm turning blue, the room is spinning... soon... very soon... I'm going to have to breathe.

(I was inspired to this ) 

"You can say you've got issues.  You can say you're a victim. 

It's all your parents' fault.  After all, you didn't pick'em. 

Well maybe Oprah's got time to listen. 

My give a damn's busted. 

Your therapist said it was all just a phase. 

A product of the prozac and your co-dependent ways...

so uhh... who's our enabler these days? 

My give a damn's busted. 

I really wanna care, I wanna feel somethin'! 

Let me dig a little deeper...

Nope...

Sorry....

Nothin'. 

My give a damn's busted..."

I love VH1Classic.  There's nothing better on a Monday morning (before the coffee has kicked in) to remind you of how pathetic you've truly become than music from days gone by... days when you were young, healthy, pretty, and happy.  Or so we thought, anyway.  But does it really matter if it wasn't that good?  We thought it was. 

I mean, really... does it have to be that everything good must come to an end?  How is it that I can be happy and miserable at exactly the same time.  Notice that's not really a question.  I'm just not ok with how things always seem to go wrong.  I spend my time praying for tomorrow to hurry up and come because things will get better after I cross this hurdle or that one.  I'm wishing my days away, wasting a lifetime waiting for it to get better. 

The truth is, I have a good life.  I'm happy... things are fine.  But every once in a while something gets thrown my way that just kicks my ass.  And I find myself swimming upstream and getting beaten half to death on the rocks in the riverbed. 

I can't stand procrastination.  Why can't we teach ourselves that it's so much more stressful to spend extra time worrying and dreading something than to just suck it up and get it over with?  And why do we have to feel so desperate about the dumbest, smallest parts of our daily drudgery.  Is the world really going to end if I soak in the tub tonight instead of doing the dinner dishes? 

I used to be so stubborn.  If I set my mind to it, it happened... most of the time in spite of myself more than anything.  I'm so wishy/washy now.  I give up so easily.  I don't do confrontation.  I hide from drama.  I have to stop this. 

Where did the part of me go that used to believe the hardest eyes to look into were my own, and as long as I could do that with a smile at the end of the day, all was ok in the world?  Did I stumble because I just got too tired to fight anymore?  Did I learn to turn and walk away because I became too weak to walk uphill? 

The coffee is kicking in, and the day is looking a bit better... course that could be from the jitters... it's hard to see things clearly if you're body's picking up speed to the point where everything is a blur. 

Maybe that's what happened... I stopped drinking coffee.  What the hell was I thinking?!

"I'm not crazy I'm just a little unwell. 

I know right now you can't tell. 

But stay a while and maybe then you'll see a different side of me. 

I'm not crazy I'm just a little impaired. 

I know right now you don't care. 

But soon enough you're gonna think of me and how I used to be..." 

Ok... here's the thing.  I have two blogs on Mo'Time.  And I hate the way both of them look.  I'd love to have a nice clean-looking blog skin for each of them.  The problem:  I have no freaking clue how to make them or get them to work here.  Where can I go to get a couple?  Where can I go that maybe doesn't cost much?  I have friends who could help me, but they're always sooo busy.  I don't like bumming from them. 

What's ironic?  The former owners of my house had major money.  And they left all sorts of little treasures behind... willingly.  The best being some very expensive Lenox glasses.  We're talking... they were still in the shopping bags!  They also left behind a bookshelf full of what looks to be very boring books.  Bunches of medical books along with tons of self-help, improving your image type books.  I think the doctor's wife dabbled in an image consulting business or something. 

ANYWAY... along with the books, I found a collection of computer stuff.  One item being a set of clickart disks.  Eight of them in the set... over, get this, over 125,000 images, fonts, sounds, etc.  I've looked through them.  Most of them are really unique. 

The irony... what really blows... I don't know what to do with them!!  I'll send them to the loving person willing to help me fix my blogs. :)  Or... or... umm.... Terry will pay you!  (Right, sweetie?!?! lol) 

Ok, so I get antsy, need change all too often.  AT LEAST I'm not like my mother.  I only want to move the living room around and change graphics on my websites.  SHE forces Dad to.... change furniture altogether... change houses even!  We used to love when she got like that becuase it meant whichever kid happened to need new furniture at that time got stuff hardly more than a couple years old.  Now we understand what a financial strain that puts on our dad year after year. 

She needs serious help.  I only need a little. 

Help? :)

Wow it's cold this morning.  I stayed up too late last night working on a sweater that I'm making for myself.  I don't make myself things as often as you'd think.  Even when I make purses I usually end up giving them to someone. 

But even when I did go to bed, Bella decided she wanted to sleep with me, and I let her.  Actually I let her keep me awake for two extra hours.  There really wasn't that much sleep involved. 

I have a lot to do today, but nothing terribly pressing.  I could blow most of it off, but then I'd only feel guilty later. 

It's Friday.  That should make me feel better than it does.  For some reason, it really isn't that big of a deal.  My days run together lately, anyway. 

I've lost my ability to write interesting posts.  (This is assuming I ever wrote interesting posts.)  And I want to change the layout of my blog, but I have no idea how. 

I'm restless.  I hate when this happens.

I woke up with a terrible headache this morning but drugs and more sleep helped it a bit.  The house is pretty trashed, but I really don't feel like doing work of any kind today.  Sometimes you have to wonder what the point is in driving yourself crazy over the little things... like dirty laundry.  I keep telling myself that I'm not going to do that, that the world won't end if I relax instead of killing myself trying to have everything perfect all the time.  And it usually works for a day or two, but then I'm right back at it. 

Last night was date night, and it really helped my current levels of stress.  I was beginning to feel like I was going to implode or something.  I was on overload.  Terry and I have settled into a very comfortable relationship where we're more than happy to sit home and do nothing when we're together.  Most of the time we're both so tired, it sounds like heaven to get to veg out in the evenings. 

But that's when I think it gets tricky for couples.  You're getting time together no matter what, and that's good.  But you need to remember that sometimes you need to get out and have grownup time.  Time where you're not sitting around trying to relax knowing that there's a ton of dirty dishes in the next room just waiting for you.  Or that the toddler is going to come running to pounce on you any second. 

So we try to get out every once in a while and have a date night.  Dinner and a movie can work miracles.  We saw "The Departed" last night.  It was a good movie, but I didn't like the way it ended.  I'm too mentally geared toward happily everafter endings.  But it was still a good movie. 

I will eventually get something done today, but I'm in no hurry.  What's the point?  It will still be there when I feel like doing it.

I spent my weekend in Nickelodeon hell.  I hate most of the shows on that network, but Bella loves them.  There was a fair in town last week.  If I could go and just walk through all the local booths, see the arts and crafts, I'd like it.  But it's really no place I want children I care about hanging out.  Those rides scare me.  The people running those rides scare me. 

So instead of having anyone miss out on fun this weekend, we went out of town.  We drove north to Kings Island... a theme park owned by Paramount.  We had a good time although I think I'm still tired.  The only thing that would have made it better is if I'd had a sitter after 7pm.  This month is FearFest at the park.  I would have to loved that, but it's not a situation suitable for young children. 

The Nickelodeon Universe in the park was great for them, though.  They had little trick or treat booths set up that kids could go around to for candy.  Bella loved those rides.  And yes, she did her fair share of hugging giant cartoon characters.  She really loved it.  She held Terry hostage in the Bikini Bottom Bash so long I had to go in and get them... not before I laughed my ass off. :)

Don't think I'm up this morning because I want to be.  But I admit, the crisp morning October air does feel really good on my skin.  And right now, for a few seconds, anyway, I only feel like I'm going to die soon... not this second.  I feel better now that I've hurled. 

Sometimes I think if I have to take one more pill I'm going to choke on it and die. 

Sometimes I think if I vomit one more time, my heart will come out next. 

Sometimes I think the pain will never go away. 

Sometimes I think if there's one more ounce of drama in my family, it will finally push me over the edge. 

Sometimes I feel like one more tear will surely drown me. 

But the pills help the pain, the vomit reminds me at least I'm still alive, I love my family very much, and I thank the gods I'm still a person who can feel enough to cry. 

So, all in all, I'm alright.

When it rains, it pours.  And I'll never get passed being one of those people who hates wearing a coat or carrying an umbrella.  Sort of makes me "just askin' for it", right.  Oh well... :)  I'm back to telling fate to kiss my ass.... and it seems to be slowly disappearing these days, so it had better hurry if it wants a good piece to kiss!

My Day Part One:  You Can't Trust a Man 

So Terry had to go out of town today.  But his car wouldn't start.  He was running way late, so I told him to just take my truck because I didn't have anything to do today that I couldn't work around.  But he was nervous.  He handed me the keys to his car and said, "Take care of my baby."  Now, granted... his car is nice.  It does everything but talk to you, and I'm not sure it doesn't talk to him when I'm not around.  But it's not like it's a Mustang.  (*cough* or new)   ANYWAY... my wonderful Daddy dropped by to look at the car, and it ended up being a small thing which he fixed for me.  He's such a cool man.  So I took care of his car, alright.  Bella and I rolled down the windows, opened the sunroof, and hit the road to go to my Mom's house.  I didn't drive fast... not that fast.  This is where I find it.  He has (had) a totally kick ass cd in his car with awesome 80s music on it!  Had he shared it with me?!  Nooooo  That's ok, though.  Bella and I enjoyed it thoroughly while driving country roads with the wind blowing our hair.  And before we got to Mom's Bella was singing, "Loving every minute of it!" 

My Day Part Two:  Home for Sale 

One spacious gorgeously built home registered with the National Historic Society.  Very expensive... just never mind the cascading water falling from the MASTER BEDROOM CEILING!!  *hysterical sob* 

My Day Part Three:  Virus in the dark 

It's really ok that Bella and I have developed a virus this evening that's causing us  to vomit and feel horrible.  Never mind that I have to carry a flashlight to the bathroom every time we go because I had to cut the power to that side of the house... you know, after water started dripping from the light fixtures. 

It's ok, really... my days are always this fun.

I have always been a very "out there" kind of person.  I live loud ninety-nine percent of the time.  When I close down, I close down. 

Anyone who knows me knows how important music has always been to me.  I love it.  It's almost always playing in the background wherever I find myself.  I grew up around music... southern gospel, Elvis, CCR, Fats Domino.  My mother loves music.  She grew up with four sisters, and there was never anything they couldn't harmonize.  Voices of angels... always made me proud to be jealous. 

I can get lost in the rhythmn of a song without even realizing my mind has left the building... until the music stops.  And the lyrics of good songs...  I think it's because I've never seen myself as being a very poetic person although in high school I probably wrote a thousand stories and poems.  I've never seen myself as being very talented with the pen.  Most of the time if something I write gets someone's attention it's something I've written when I've been at my very lowest.  I hate that my creativity seems to stem from agony.  Let me just sidenote;  I'm totally ok that I haven't been able to write anything worth reading lately.   I guess I see lyrics like most people see Hallmark cards.  Someone always sings it better than I can say it. 

I remember the very first time someone ever said, "Angel, I heard a song that reminded me of you!"  It was my best friend, Brenda.  We were barely into puberty and so self-absorbed it wasn't even funny.  (Not that I've changed all that much, huh.)  Anyway!  She said she'd heard the song "Manic Monday" on the way to school that morning and it reminded her of how I always hit the ground running every morning, never slowing down.  At the time I thought that was the coolest thing ever... a song made someone think of me.  I took it as a total compliment.  Now, I'm not so sure it was a good thing that she thought I always ran around like a chicken with my head cut off. 

Oh well...   Since that day I've been compared (by ex-loves mostly) to about fifty percent of every angry girl song ever written and dozens of endless love, hopeless romantic ballads along the way.  Course I've never been able to figure out how I could be both.  Didn't matter, I loved having people use music to "know me". 

Finally when I had co-workers all agree (one evening after a really long week of evaluations that almost killed us) that I reminded them of Ally McBeal, I decided maybe it wasn't such a good thing that people had to think of something else before they could think of me.  I worried that I just spent two decades living a huge identity crisis. 

So I tried to get myself "in check" and just be Angel.  I wanted to be original.  I started feeling like some street corner knockoff going for a lot less than the real thing.  Leave it to me to over think things, right. 

What I managed was the fakest thing anyone could ever become.  What I learned was if you have to TRY to be yourself, you're nowhere near the person you truly are inside. 

The thing is, I am the bitter hopeless romantic, never slowing down slightly neurotic woman dancing to her very own life theme song that no one else can hear.  Do I see this as a mental disorder?  Hell no! 

(What brought this on... at 6:30 am, I heard a song that someone once sang to me in a karaoke bar in Texas.  Never mind that the title of that song is "Unwell".)