Since someone asked, and I never pass up an opportunity to sound positive about myself, just let me post a quickie to say, I did NOT just slack!  I've been working hard!  Want to see some of the fruits of my labor?  You must take into consideration that every single thing in this room in the after shots, I carried upstairs by myself!  Yeah... so I was sore and tired afterward!  But it was worth it because little Belle loves her new big girl room!

BEFORE:

AFTER:

I didn't get as much sleep as I wanted last night, but I slept.  The trick is to look at the positive side of things.  I have much to do today.  None of it is critical.  I could slack and not do it, but I know I'll be so happy when I get it done. 

I remember when I was working sixteen hours a day and then coming home to take care of a house and family.  Or pretend to take care of it, anyway.  I wasn't doing a very good job.  Someone else was raising my little one.  I still cry when I think about the things I missed. 

And I know career women are supposed to miss it if they give it up.  They're supposed to feel empty and start to lose their sense of worth.  Ummm... no.  Not for me, anyway.  When we're spending three solid hours coloring giant Strawberry Shortcake pictures, or she drags out the step stool so she can reach the kitchen sink and "help" me with dishes... or even at the end of the day when I look at what a complete disaster the house is and I think back to how much cleaner it stayed when I worked... because no one was ever in it.... I know how very lucky I am for this time with her.  I'd go back to work to support my family, but I'll never go back to killing myself again. 

There are snobbish mothers around me who think I'm some sort of freak because I didn't send her to preschool.  It was a conscious decision not to send her.  She's extremely smart and quick to learn.  It isn't like I'm not teaching her basic things at home.  (Although good look on the alphabet, Kindergarten teacher.  She knows it.  She just likes to tick me off!)  I'm expecting thirteen hard woking years from her.  Then four years of college... graduate school.  The world gets more than their fair share of her starting this Fall.  I'll be selfish with the time I have left if I want to.  

I have so much to do today.  I'll get started soon.  Honest.  Sometime between now and lunch.

You would think I wouldn't be so stressed this evening.  It's not like I've had a bad weekend.  Sure... I've had a headache from hell, but you know, I'm used to those.  And the drug induced stupor that is my only relief, I'm used to those, too.  It has been a pretty average weekend.  No reason to be as stressed and on the verge of tears the way I am.  I'm taking everything the wrong way, everything is hurting my feelings.  I'm freaking out over small things.  (And no, mother nature has nothing to do with it... not in the way you're thinking, anyway.)

Some of the stress and insecurity of my past reared its ugly head last week.  It brought about memories of hurt and heartbreak I've suffered at the hands of my mother.  But then, what girl hasn't, right?  I'm trying not to let it bother me.  I got through this.  I grew from it.  I won't go back.

I know everyone around me is stressed and pre-occupied with so many things going on in their lives.  And I know that there are times when I'm not much of a help.  Sometimes that's my fault.  Sometimes it's because I'm not allowed to be.  And then there are times when I'm completely dismissed.  And I'm supposed to be ok with that and patiently wait until I can be of service again.  And sometimes my heart is lonely even when the rest of me isn't.

On a brighter note, I do have a couple pictures of the cabin and other things that I want to post, but there's another blog in the works, and I think they'll be much more appropriate on there.  And to be honest, I'm afraid to try it tonight, because one more snag, and I'm likely to break down and cry the entire house underwater.

I've already had a full day.  Three hours of sleep seems to be my norm.  It was a few  years ago, but I'd gotten back used to sleeping again, and now... ugh.  But now I've passed that point where you're tired and exhausted, and I've gone right on into the hyper delirium that's afterward. 

I've been up for hours.  I've showered, gone for groceries, come home and put them away, started laundry, and forced myself to eat just enough to keep from having meds make me sick.  Now I'm sitting here with a nervous jitter that's probably not going away anytime soon.  I'm almost praying it doesn't because I'll probably crash when it does. 

There was a million things on my mind that I wanted to blog, but I forgot them all. 

Our new cats... well, Farm Boy... let's just say, I'm mad at him.  His appointment for the "snip snip" isn't until next week, and oh my gosh I think he's marked everything in my house... stupid little freak.  And if you'd been raised in my mother's house, you'd understand how much MORE this irritates me than it would a normal person. 

My mother... my mother and her anal retentive, OCDs, don't let the dust hit the table, don't wear your shoes beyond the front porch... is that REALLY a cat in your HOUSE.... mother.  She used to send ous out to play on Saturday mornings and lock the door behind us.  We got to come in for lunch... and that's it.  Otherwise we'd mess up the house.  I'm one southern girl that learned to squat and pee at a really early age. 

ANYWAY... Farm Boy is about to be locked in the upstairs bathroom until his vet appt.  I love him, but geez. 

Then there's my sweet little Princess Buttercup.  She's just a kitten. She was found... abandoned and not in good shape.  So after two visits to the vet, I think we have her on her way to being healthy.  The gross thing is, she had this huge knot of infection right on the top of her head, and it broke open.  But it broke in a place that wouldn't really allow it to drain properly so the vet had to lance it open in another place... almost right between her little eyes.  So now twice a day I have to squirt peroxide into the top hole and massage it through down to where it drains, and then I have to do the same thing with some medicine.  The bad thing is that both holes scab over and close between treatments so I have to force them back open, and it hurts her.  She cries.  I cry.  She has to stay locked up for a while afterwards because she slings the puss and blood everywhere.  Then I have to give her an oral antibiotic twice a day, and I also have to put eardrops in both ears twice a day.  The poor little thing is miserable, but she always comes back to love on me later... after the drama.  The vet had to shave her little head for the lancing.  I called her "Britney" all day yesterday.  Nobody thinks that funny, but me.  She didn't think it was funny, either.  She already feels so much better.  She's so playful after she gets over being mad at me.

Ok... I have a day.  I have a five year old to go drag outta bed by her toes.  No more sleeping late.  Mommy needs to go to bed before 2am, and I can't do that if she sleeps all day and parties all night!

I know that to any person just reading my blog they would probably think I'm one of the most unstable people on earth.  And it would be easy to think that without knowing more about me than what I post here.  The way my emotions swing back and forth to the extreme the way they do. 

I know I worry about it.  My mother has serious emotional problems, and for the past ten years or so I've gone through phases where I've been scared to death that just maybe some of those were passed on down to me.  I've tried to research it some... tried to find what sorts of mental and emotional disorders might be hereditary.  But that's hard to do when I don't know what I'm looking for.  My mother has never been officially diagnosed with anything.  We just know it's there.  Lots of it. 

When I was first diagnosed with this illness I was told that it "can" be terminal.  What they meant was sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.  Twenty years ago, it was always terminal.  Today there are different treatments, and people sometimes live normal lifespans.  There are so many factors, it's a crapshoot. 

When I first started researching it, I was overwhelmed.  Adding that to a million other things that were going wrong at the time, my doctor was worried that I'd have a meltdown.  So he, along with a couple friends, convinced me to see a counselor. 

I saw her twice.  The second visit she diagnosed my mother without having ever met her, and she told me that a certain dread and anxiety I had about staying in the house I was in might be attributed to an evil spirit someone had perhaps placed in the dwelling.  Never mind I was sharing the house with a man who made my every breath a living hell, or that I was a country away from a very ill mother, a seriously ill grandmother, and family memebers constantly begging me to come home and help... or even the fact I was just told, while in my twenties, I could live 25 more years... or five... right?

Yeah.... So needless to say, after that, I decided if I was going to go wacko I didn't want someone professional helping push me over the edge.  Poor David... I'll never forget the tone in his voice when he apologized and laughed at the same time.  He knew he had helped convince me to go, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing at the irony involved in me being the one to end up with the freak therapist.  He also knew hell would freeze over before I ever tried it again. 

The biggest reason I never went to a different person... I didn't need to go anywhere else.  I found out that I'm one of the lucky ones.  I can work myself through difficult phases in my life, and come out on top.  I'm strong enough to know that my freak outs are just my way of dealing.  They're my release.  I don't run from the issues.  My ability to feel every single emotion is my way to deal.  It's what makes things so hard for me, but it's what works for me. 

I got back home from our trip yesterday.  Today I realize I've caught a twenty-four bug that my darling little one happened to pick up while we were gone.  I was angry at first because I felt so rested and strong when I got back.  Then to have my head hung over the toilet so soon was agonizing for me. 

I thought about it, though... and I realized that I have nothing to be angry over.  It's just a virus.  I'll get a good night's sleep.  I'll watch what goes into my stomach for a day or so, and I'll be fine.  I won't push myself until I feel better.  And when I shake this, I'll feel just as rested and hopeful as I felt when I got home yesterday. 

I highly recommend a weekend of seclusion for anyone feeling majorly stressed out.  Just skip the pyscho freaky therapist and rent a cabin in the mountains. 

If that doesn't work... rum and coke is always good.

We are back! 

I just spent four nights tucked away in the most darling cabin on the most beautiful mountainside. 

When the boy stands up to me and won't take "no" for an answer, sometimes it can be a good thing.  Without giving me room to argue he explained that I was exhausted, he was more than tired, and we were going away.  He rented the cabin, took care of all the burdening details... even got a sitter!  I think he would have packed my bag if I'd moved too slowly for him. 

And away we went! 

I spent the first day and a half sleeping.  I'm not joking.  I guess I really was exhausted.  The remaining time, we gave a half-hearted attempt to be touristy, and it was half-hearted at best.  We spent only a few hours total out doing the tourist thing. 

No plans, no obligations, to do, see, or buy... we relaxed.  We splet.  We laughed.  We did things I'm not writing about, but he might!  He massaged my feet for hours!  Unbelievable.  He made sure I had Starbucks!  (I think that was more for what he'd get from it than wanting to be nice to me.) 

We did go through the arts and crafts village.  He bought me yarn. 

We found it difficult to dress and go out for dinner.  During the dinners, we laughed and talked and I wasn't interrupted for more milk or anything!  I didn't get out of my seat a single time.  I'd forgotten what that felt like. 

I want to show pictures.  But I can't find the thingie I need to hook the camera to my computer.  (One smart remark about my technical handicap, David, and I'll kick your ass.)  I'd just grab the cabin pics from the website but they wouldn't show you what we saw.  They were taken in the summer. 

We woke up yesterday to snow!  Yes, that's right, IML... I had to travel SOUTH to get snow!  It was so pretty.  It was just enough to make everything in the mountains truly beautiful but not so bad that we couldn't get back down to get home. 

And I was really missing home.  I think if I'd gone one more day without having my dinner interrupted, I probably would have cried.  Funny... the things you miss, huh. 

What I miss right now... the hot tub.  I got used to winding down the evening in it, and now I miss it.  I wonder what I'll have to do to talk him into putting one in.  I promise not to turn it up too high.  (I roasted him the first night... whimp ass.  I told him I was going to tell everybody I had roasted duck on my vacation.  He didn't think it was funny.  I still laugh myself to tears.) 

As we inched off the mountain to head toward home I was nervously laughing, cause the boy can't drive, and I said, "Back to reality."  And he just smiled and replied, "Yeah... good thing our reality isn't so bad."  He was right. 

It really is a pretty blue world.

I'm not going to mess with the template any today because I am still feeling completely spastic, but I did sleep about three hours last night.  That's a start. 

I don't mean to lose it so extreme the way I sometimes do.  I know why it happens.  I hold it in and hold it in... and smile and laugh and pretend nothing's wrong until it piles up.  I have never learned to just let things be.  I'm trying, and I'm much better about it than I used to be, but I still have such a long way to go.  I pretend to be perfect for a while, and then I fall to pieces in an instant.  I know it's going to happen.  I can feel it coming on.  I just don't know how to prevent it. 

I have so many things that have built up for so long, and heaven help me, I just can't make myself not smile through it and offer you a glass of tea instead of just yelling and crying and screaming until I get it off my chest,  This, I get from my grandmother.  I've seen her hold her southern pride and smile through things that would bring small countries to their knees. 

I certainly didn't get it from my mother.  She will cause a scene just to get to cause one... I like to joke about the time she picked up a chair and threw it... sticking it into the wall right beside my head.  Well... it was amazing.  I've never seen anyone actually stick a chair leg into a wall.  Thinking back, surely they were thin walls, right? 

And knowing about this instability... knowing I'm a bottomless pit of raw emotions... he wants to spend the rest of his life with me, anyway.  I just can't figure him out. 

He says for me to hold on until he gets here.  He promises to put me back together this weekend.  For once, I'm not going to freak out or worry.  I'm not going to feel guilty for being a burden.  I'm just going to let him. 

He sent me a single statement this morning.  Hopefully he won't be upset with me for sharing... (he should know I'm going to say what I want here)... one single statement that said, "You make me hunger for the Divine". 

Now, if you've read him, you know he's tremendously gifted with words, so you could probably deduct that he has written me very beautiful, heart soaring declarations of love.  But it's these things... these simple little out of blue things... things that make me stop and wonder HOW... he KNOWS he's going to walk in on me in the middle of this meltdown.  I'm wrecked, and by now he knows it won't be pretty when he gets here... and yet, he's not seeing that this morning.  He sees me with different eyes.  I don't understand it.  He should be gone by now. 

I can't figure him out. 

I'm not even going to pretend I'm in a good mood today.  I think this blog template suits me perfectly.  I suppose I'm feeling a mixture of frustration and anger.  Some of it is my fault and some of it is even more my fault. 

There are things I could change in my life that would probably make it easier.  But I don't have the nerve.  The fact that they will probably never change is my fault. 

There are feelings, emotions, situations that have been put upon me, and they hurt.  They anger me... frustrate me... confuse me... break my heart.  Put there by others, but I allowed it.  That is even more my fault. 

This panic in my heart, when did I allow this to happen?  How could I allow myself to believe that this head long free fall into a dark indigo abyss would ever amount to anything more than an agonizing torture of insecurities and uncertainties that I would never be strong enough to handle? 

My shortcomings and failures, this evergrowing list will forever terrorize me with the knowing laughter telling me I will never be enough. 

Darkened rooms in the far corners of my mind, the ones I thought I'd sealed... alarms are sounding... screaming intruder alerts to let me know the doors have been opened wide so that every nightmare I have ever had is free to exercise its right to my insanity. 

There is much mocking going on inside the walls of my heart right now... cynical little whispers that I would ever have the audacity to believe a heart like this could hold happiness.  A heart that has been put back together so many times it looks a bit like Jackal's mosaic butterflies. 

Where is the plaster?  Someone forgot to use security.... plaster. 

Now the pieces will never hold.  They're all falling down... demanding I retreat. 

After all, peace is merely an illusion, and finding a way into my soul is too much geography for the easily swayed... especially without a roadmap.

I'm not quite sure what's worse... the fact that the only thing on tv in the middle of the night was "The Rebirth of Mothra ll" or the fact that I've seen it before.  (OR.... that this means there was a "Rebirth of Mothra".... *saw that, too*) 

I'm not quite sure what's worse... that I'm taking everyone's advice and going with my first choice of templates after all, or the fact that people somehow really do associate this spazed out look with me, for real. 

Maybe the worst possible thing of this all is that I've been awake all night, or none of this would matter.  Do I still consider this one of the worst nights I've had in a really long time, or can I twist it to a positive side and say that at least I did something productive? 

Should I try to sleep at this point or just shower and make myself some sort of breakfast? 

I'm just full of questions, huh.  Obviously they're a bit rhetorical, but if you have answers, please share. 

What was I thinking last night when I allowed myself to totally and completely freak out knowing it would mean a meltdown and a sleepless night? 

A ha!  I wasn't thinking.  I rarely do that these days.  It gets me nowhere at all. 

Being that I've given that whole thinking thing up, did you really expect me to start now and have answers to these questions myself?

I heard birds again this morning.  They were crying out in hysterical agonizing disbelief!  It's frigid cold, and it's SNOWING!  We were under a winter advisory for three days, and we got about an inch of snow.  You all know how that upset me.  No more snow in the forecast... clear sunny days.  And it's SNOWING!  Pouring... like a couple inches already!  I'm tickled pink.  It's snowing, IML! 

Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy! 

I know it won't be more than a couple inches, but it's the unexpected pleasures in life, ya know? 

Thank you for all the nice compliments on my blog.  I actually enjoyed faking my way through setting it up yesterday.  I emailed the owner of the template site asking for info on a custom template for my craft blog.  I hope they'll help me come up with something and not charge me too much.  These blogs are my escape... the places where I really am completely me... don't feel the need to fake anything.  Mostly because I don't have to answer to anybody reading them.  Amazing the kind of freedom that allows. 

So I have a house full of kids that are now stranded here.  I don't mind so much.  I had to get out this morning and take my nephew to work.  We didn't really drive there, we slid.  I did fine because I remember what it was like living in northern Montana, and I know that the pretty snow may seem fluffy and harmless, but at temps in the single digits, the ice underneath the snow is an ugly raging monster.  And besides, if he'd been home and tried to drive in or have my sister bring him, they would have been on these bad roads for about an hour.  He works three minutes from my house. 

I really wasn't expecting the roads to be as bad as they are because it only looks like a dusting of snow on them, but no one was expecting it, so no salting last night.  The black ice is really bad now.  I slid a bit at a red light, and I was driving... like ten mph.  I stopped in more than enough time to be safe.  The guy on the other side of the intersection wasn't going much faster, and he slid all the way through it.  I felt bad for him because he really was being cautious.  He wasn't one of those people who automatically lose major IQ points when it rains or snows.  So when I got back home, I called both sisters and told them not to try to retrieve their children for a while... if at all today.

I had an idea where this post was going, but about twenty people have interrupted me in the last five minutes, and now I don't remember.  Kids are good for that sort of thing, aren't they.  I'll remember later and come back.

I really do have to get some things taken care of around here today.  I can't play on here all day.... which is a sure sign that I probably will. 

I'm a rebel like that. :) 

Oh I have been in such a rut for weeks now on this blog!  I've been searching miserably for a new template but not knowing the first thing about all the technicalities, I was searching in vain. 

But HOWARD... who rocks beyond words, has been amazing in pointing me in the right direction!  He gave me the coolest site to play around with until Mo'Time updates its templates. 

I LOVE this site.  The owner is obviously very creative, and you can find the link at the bottom of the right column!  I saw at least five templates I wanted to use, but I'll start with this one. 

As someone dear loves to point out, I'm a chick. We have to move the furniture, change the curtains, and switch blog themes... often. 

At least, I do.

The snow is falling.  We almost have enough on the ground to call it "pretty".  A couple more inches, and I'll consider it a success.

S-U-C-C-E-S-S.... want to know how I learned to spell that?  A cheer... that's right.  All that time as a cheerleader may not have been wasted, after all, huh.  I was never labeled the same as what you'd expect.  In the school district I was in, back then, the athletes were the ones with the 4.0 GPAs.  We took pride in the fact that we had brains and could still get a date on Friday night. 

I had a pretty easygoing life by the time I was old enough to date.  By then my parents were so emotionally and physically exhausted from the never-ending battles brought about by my rebelliously bitter siblings, Mom and Dad were just happy I came home at night.... not pregnant.  They were so happy that I hadn't been arrested, high, or pregnant by sixteen they never really noticed that I was killing myself being perfect.  Had I known what little it took to please them, I might not be the spastic neurotic person I am today. 

(Should I be thanking them or blaming them?) 

The truth is I don't blame them.  I did for a while.  But I realize they did the best they could, and even with their shortcomings they really are wonderful loving parents.  I could not ask for better.  It really was a normal... quite ordinary middle American life. 

I wanted to go back to bed this morning, but it just wasn't gonna happen.  Instead I've been sitting here on the couch cozied up by the fireplace watching it pretend to snow.  Mother Nature is such a faker.  Someone should tell her how unsatisfying that is and how she's only hurting herself. 

I have a million things to do today, and I really do plan to do them.  An important thing, find the camera!  I can't find the camera!  I have a nephew.  He's a darling young man, honest he is.  He's twelve, and he loves to take pictures, make movies, and then edit them and turn them into some really cool clips.  He's good at it, too.  And when he's here, it's so hard to tell him no when he asks to use the camera. 

Now I can't find it.  I'm pretty positive I haven't loaned it out to anyone.  But I can't find it.  I want to take pictures of some crochet stuff for the other blog.  And I want to show you our new family members.  I convinced my mother to take Mr. Limpet.  And it has been a good match.  We are just not dog people.  We don't have the dedication it takes to be dog people.  So in order to convince Bella to let him go, I had to promise her a kitten.  No big deal, right?  Except we ended up with two new cats!  So now we're down to Ophelia... who pretty much just comes and goes as she pleases outside.  She's a good cat.  And now we have Farm Boy and Princess Buttercup!  Farm Boy is a lazy ass orange Tabby that will just plop down anywhere, anytime and sprawl out with a "pet me now" groan.  He really expects you to do it, too!  Princess Buttercup is a tiny little Calico that was rescued at about four weeks when she got separated from her momma in the middle of town.  She's about seven weeks now and absolutely comical.  They both already think they own the house.  And together with Bella, they do. 

I think I forgot to blog that our bird, Opie, died over the holidays.  No idea why, but now our zoo is no longer a zoo.  We have cats.  That's it.  Well, that.... and the killer psycho fish screwboy convinced me to put in my fish tank.  Their days are numbered.  I just have to figure out how to make it look like an accident.  Vegetarian fish, my ass.... flipping cannibals.  And they're HUGE!  They have to go, that's it.  I'm of a mind to take down the whole tank.  I'm sort of tired of dealing with it, too. 

I just feel the need to simplify.  The less to deal with, the better.  That's what I think.