I always knew this day would come
and knew that I would know what I had never
known before about fighting to survive.
I recognize the reason I don't write here or anywhere.
My journal sits beneath the bedside table, unwritten
in for many months. I know I would not be able to write
nor speak of my station in life at this point. I realize
now how much I let myself be completely self-absorbed.
How much I needed someone to hear me, read me, want
to know me. I am too tired now. My life is filled with
so many conflicting emotions. I don't like where I am
with me. I actually prefer the days when I rose above
me in all of my narcissitic and egoistic leanings. Oh, oh!
To have them now could probably make all of the difference!
Not boring, my life. But I write things about what I cook
and what I wear and what I do to the house. Oh!
Dirty ashtrays. Glasses filled with liquor on the porch. Left
for days. Soured laundry. Swollen eyes. Rough and calloused
feet. Wild, untamed and unmanageable hair. The sinking. the
giving up. I don't like it. I wish I was a wild woman baying.
A wild woman truthful. I could sleep better and eat better
and let my heart know peace. In all of its troubledness, it would
know peace.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Rounding A Curve
They look like knees, these two
stones at the foot of the hill. I brake, even
though I know what they are, afraid
I may bruise or break one of them.
Molly does not know my hesitation,
with all its limitations. She is focused
on the run through the stones,
over the graves, around the crypts.
To be a dog and not care, I think,
as I park the car on the shoulder,
realize I don't even look to see
whose name is etched in stone,
whose shoulders lie beneath the clean
mown lawn, to question whether they
ever touched another's shoulders, arms,
torso, whether they knew love or not,
whether anyone remembers who they
were, their mother long since gone, a father,
perhaps, gone as well. I don't even stop
to read the names any longer--the Lula's,
the Falcon's, the Lesbia's, the Williams.
I wonder what has happened to my wonder,
if this landscape has become family to me, part
of my every day, the easy chair in the living
room, the cheap plastic chair under the carport,
the tarnished abalone shell on the porch filling
with ashes and ashes and ashes, wonder gone
to dust, life's pull the drag from the lips on a
cigarette smoked in the dark, knees crossed
on a swing whose motion relies on me.
They look like knees, these two
stones at the foot of the hill. I brake, even
though I know what they are, afraid
I may bruise or break one of them.
Molly does not know my hesitation,
with all its limitations. She is focused
on the run through the stones,
over the graves, around the crypts.
To be a dog and not care, I think,
as I park the car on the shoulder,
realize I don't even look to see
whose name is etched in stone,
whose shoulders lie beneath the clean
mown lawn, to question whether they
ever touched another's shoulders, arms,
torso, whether they knew love or not,
whether anyone remembers who they
were, their mother long since gone, a father,
perhaps, gone as well. I don't even stop
to read the names any longer--the Lula's,
the Falcon's, the Lesbia's, the Williams.
I wonder what has happened to my wonder,
if this landscape has become family to me, part
of my every day, the easy chair in the living
room, the cheap plastic chair under the carport,
the tarnished abalone shell on the porch filling
with ashes and ashes and ashes, wonder gone
to dust, life's pull the drag from the lips on a
cigarette smoked in the dark, knees crossed
on a swing whose motion relies on me.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
I know
that no one can help me through this. I get through
it all or die. I see how death takes those whose hearts
are so broken, whose worlds are turned upside
down, who feel they have no purpose left.
Being melodramatic, but I am distraught and sad beyond
expectation or necessity or an acceptable level. It's, perhaps,
another way I sabotage me.
I ran over my 11 1/2 yr old cat two days ago. Just after burying
him and returning to work (as if I could work), I got a call that
my son, daughter-in-law and grandson were in a car accident
in Evansville (about an hour from here). They are going to be
fine, thank god. The car is totaled, son has a broken collar bone,
son and daughter in law both hurting and bruised, my darling little
Isaac is just fine.
But I can't not hear that thump under the wheel, see him running
herky jerky int the neighbor's yard, watch him take his last breath.
I can't get that outof my head. I can't stand to go to the door and
not find him there, waiting to come in to talk to me a bit and have
a bite to eat. I am so heartbroken.
Youngest is now off to school. The house is so quiet. Husband is
going to be gone for 11 days. Could not come at a worse time.
I need some help. I just don't know what kind of help.
that no one can help me through this. I get through
it all or die. I see how death takes those whose hearts
are so broken, whose worlds are turned upside
down, who feel they have no purpose left.
Being melodramatic, but I am distraught and sad beyond
expectation or necessity or an acceptable level. It's, perhaps,
another way I sabotage me.
I ran over my 11 1/2 yr old cat two days ago. Just after burying
him and returning to work (as if I could work), I got a call that
my son, daughter-in-law and grandson were in a car accident
in Evansville (about an hour from here). They are going to be
fine, thank god. The car is totaled, son has a broken collar bone,
son and daughter in law both hurting and bruised, my darling little
Isaac is just fine.
But I can't not hear that thump under the wheel, see him running
herky jerky int the neighbor's yard, watch him take his last breath.
I can't get that outof my head. I can't stand to go to the door and
not find him there, waiting to come in to talk to me a bit and have
a bite to eat. I am so heartbroken.
Youngest is now off to school. The house is so quiet. Husband is
going to be gone for 11 days. Could not come at a worse time.
I need some help. I just don't know what kind of help.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
We Didn't Bury A Bowl
He didn't have a toy any longer,
and he shared a bowl with the love
of his life, so I could not put that
in the ground with him. So I wrote
him a note, triple-sealed in baggies.
I thanked him for the smiles, laughs,
frustration, worry, and the share
of yuck value he gave me on any given
day, when he was young and the hunt
was the mission. I said I knew he understood
I did not see him there under the carport
in the shade. It was not a place he ever slept.
He was predictable to a fault, I thought,
but chose not to write. I told him I would
need to work hard to forget this day. The
thump beneath the wheels (I did not write
that to him--he knew the feel), the frantic
drive to the vet, my neighbor cradling him
in his arms, his mouth opening wide for air
he could not get. Oh my dear, dear Old Boy.
I have a shepherd's hook in the yard. One which
has not held a plant in some time. I went to
the store today and found a cat wind chime
and hung it from the post, which I took from
its unused and useless place and placed them
both on your grave.
I will miss you.
The scratch at the door, the fights with Molly,
your strange, and oftentimes pained yowl, your love
for me and for every human who came in this house.
And I will take care of your girl, who is missing
you this night, who searches the back door
hoping beyond hope that y0u will lift yourself
off all fours and bring claws to glass--your love call,
your letting us know every day you were still here.
He didn't have a toy any longer,
and he shared a bowl with the love
of his life, so I could not put that
in the ground with him. So I wrote
him a note, triple-sealed in baggies.
I thanked him for the smiles, laughs,
frustration, worry, and the share
of yuck value he gave me on any given
day, when he was young and the hunt
was the mission. I said I knew he understood
I did not see him there under the carport
in the shade. It was not a place he ever slept.
He was predictable to a fault, I thought,
but chose not to write. I told him I would
need to work hard to forget this day. The
thump beneath the wheels (I did not write
that to him--he knew the feel), the frantic
drive to the vet, my neighbor cradling him
in his arms, his mouth opening wide for air
he could not get. Oh my dear, dear Old Boy.
I have a shepherd's hook in the yard. One which
has not held a plant in some time. I went to
the store today and found a cat wind chime
and hung it from the post, which I took from
its unused and useless place and placed them
both on your grave.
I will miss you.
The scratch at the door, the fights with Molly,
your strange, and oftentimes pained yowl, your love
for me and for every human who came in this house.
And I will take care of your girl, who is missing
you this night, who searches the back door
hoping beyond hope that y0u will lift yourself
off all fours and bring claws to glass--your love call,
your letting us know every day you were still here.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Leavening
I listen to the sounds coming from my son's
room. A man's voice, acoustic guitar, words
that match the light rain falling. His door is
closed. He packs his things in anticipation.
I won't knock on the door, won't interrupt
the busyness involved in leaving, won't take
from him these minutes he needs. I need them
too. I am most keenly aware that, one night,
shortly after he's moved on, I may go into his
room and hook up a boom box, try to figure out
who he was listening to, try to reproduce this
night as if it were all that easy to do. He comes
out and tells me what a job it is to unload, let
go of all the things he's held onto for years.
We laugh. I say I understand. And I do.
The tension rises like the leavened dough
in the warm oven, covered there waiting
for my touch. And I will touch and knead
and wet the softness with my own pain
as he packs and nears his time to rise.
I listen to the sounds coming from my son's
room. A man's voice, acoustic guitar, words
that match the light rain falling. His door is
closed. He packs his things in anticipation.
I won't knock on the door, won't interrupt
the busyness involved in leaving, won't take
from him these minutes he needs. I need them
too. I am most keenly aware that, one night,
shortly after he's moved on, I may go into his
room and hook up a boom box, try to figure out
who he was listening to, try to reproduce this
night as if it were all that easy to do. He comes
out and tells me what a job it is to unload, let
go of all the things he's held onto for years.
We laugh. I say I understand. And I do.
The tension rises like the leavened dough
in the warm oven, covered there waiting
for my touch. And I will touch and knead
and wet the softness with my own pain
as he packs and nears his time to rise.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Really Should Refrain
...from posting while intoxicated. Ruinous.
Disastrous (as evidenced by the post beneath this one).
*
It's strange today. The house is far too quiet. The only
sound the keys responding to my touch. A. is gone.
Her plane should have landed 1/2 hour ago. It's been
such an intense summer with her. Her mother thinks
I am relieved that she is gone. Unburdened. Her mother
can't know what I know and have seen all summer.
Her mother doesn't mean anything negative when she
says things like, "I know you're ready for her to go. I know
you must be under a great deal of pressure."
And I have been under a great deal of pressure, and A. and I
have been around one another every day (except for 3 days
in July) since 6/03. I miss her and will miss her. I have to
believe she is well enough now to move on. Her meds are
working, but now depression is rearing its ugly head. That's
generally how it goes. Get rid of the mania and psychosis,
and there's good old depression waiting to take you down.
I know she can do this. I know she can finish college, make new
friends, hold down a job, engage in intelligent conversations,
make sound decisions. I also know she is still vulnerable
and unsure.
Wes is gone today, too. Matter of fact, I was all alone last
night. It's a good thing some friends came over, and then
I went to J's house and stayed until 3 or so this morning.
I have had a child at home since 1978. This is going to be a huge
adjustment for me.
*
I am working on getting Dorianne Laux here to read in the fall.
I've contacted her and contacted the assistant professor at the
community college. I am hopeful it all works out. I would so
love to hear her read and to spend some time with her.
*
Need to get back outside and work, but it's 93 and humid, so
I think I'll wait until it cools down a little. I mowed this afternoon,
but I still need to weed the back gardens and plant some things.
Bout some heather, lantana, sedum, and coneflowers for one
of the side gardens. I must get them planted today, but I need
to lie down for a little while. Blood sugar's dropping or something.
Too much liquor last night!
...from posting while intoxicated. Ruinous.
Disastrous (as evidenced by the post beneath this one).
*
It's strange today. The house is far too quiet. The only
sound the keys responding to my touch. A. is gone.
Her plane should have landed 1/2 hour ago. It's been
such an intense summer with her. Her mother thinks
I am relieved that she is gone. Unburdened. Her mother
can't know what I know and have seen all summer.
Her mother doesn't mean anything negative when she
says things like, "I know you're ready for her to go. I know
you must be under a great deal of pressure."
And I have been under a great deal of pressure, and A. and I
have been around one another every day (except for 3 days
in July) since 6/03. I miss her and will miss her. I have to
believe she is well enough now to move on. Her meds are
working, but now depression is rearing its ugly head. That's
generally how it goes. Get rid of the mania and psychosis,
and there's good old depression waiting to take you down.
I know she can do this. I know she can finish college, make new
friends, hold down a job, engage in intelligent conversations,
make sound decisions. I also know she is still vulnerable
and unsure.
Wes is gone today, too. Matter of fact, I was all alone last
night. It's a good thing some friends came over, and then
I went to J's house and stayed until 3 or so this morning.
I have had a child at home since 1978. This is going to be a huge
adjustment for me.
*
I am working on getting Dorianne Laux here to read in the fall.
I've contacted her and contacted the assistant professor at the
community college. I am hopeful it all works out. I would so
love to hear her read and to spend some time with her.
*
Need to get back outside and work, but it's 93 and humid, so
I think I'll wait until it cools down a little. I mowed this afternoon,
but I still need to weed the back gardens and plant some things.
Bout some heather, lantana, sedum, and coneflowers for one
of the side gardens. I must get them planted today, but I need
to lie down for a little while. Blood sugar's dropping or something.
Too much liquor last night!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Eating Taco Salad (loosely based on Cohen's Famous Blue Raincoat)
its 2 in the morning
the middle of july
i'm writing you now
just to pretend to ask why
i'm eating my taco, spreading
the lettuce, wanting to say
that i know why you let us
drift on
to that place
in the nether
you're living for everyting now
i hope you're keeping some kind
of journal
and she came by with a smile
and a bod, you all balding and fat,
still enough to attract
send her my regards
Ha ha
its 2 in the morning
the middle of july
i'm writing you now
just to pretend to ask why
i'm eating my taco, spreading
the lettuce, wanting to say
that i know why you let us
drift on
to that place
in the nether
you're living for everyting now
i hope you're keeping some kind
of journal
and she came by with a smile
and a bod, you all balding and fat,
still enough to attract
send her my regards
Ha ha
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Trying to go to bed
She throws a pad away in the bathroom
garbage and forgets to close the door.
I only know this when I pull the sheets
back to go to bed. The dog has dragged
her pain into my life, once again.
Banish dog to crate. Self-talk about what needs
to be said. Make an effort at 1 a.m. to lie
down. Question tomorrow: (which is today):
train new coworker, enter data, empower
client, empower family, wait for son to return
from concert, think about last night's dreams.
Who lies down easily? Who sleeps through the
night? How and what.
My ankle turns easily to the right as I think.
She throws a pad away in the bathroom
garbage and forgets to close the door.
I only know this when I pull the sheets
back to go to bed. The dog has dragged
her pain into my life, once again.
Banish dog to crate. Self-talk about what needs
to be said. Make an effort at 1 a.m. to lie
down. Question tomorrow: (which is today):
train new coworker, enter data, empower
client, empower family, wait for son to return
from concert, think about last night's dreams.
Who lies down easily? Who sleeps through the
night? How and what.
My ankle turns easily to the right as I think.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Yesterday morning
I woke up remembering a kiss. Remembering
what it felt like to lose yourself in a kiss. Remembering
how just that one kiss changed my entire life.
A few days ago, a mourning dove was standing
in the middle of 41 A. Birds do that sometimes. Birds
other than scavengers. She was standing there, slowly
walking in that herky-jerky way birds walk, to the
southern shoulder of the road. I thought she would
just fly over me, but she flew right into the grill of my
car. Feathers rained over me for a few miles. I drove
to Kroger but refused to look at the front of my car.
Then I drove to the liquor store where this most
beautiful young man works. He reminds me of a
young Bob Dylan. The hair, the nose (though his is
a much nicer nose than Dylan's and his hair is light
brown). He's taller though. He's gentle and seems
somewhat delicate, he laughs easily, he listens intently,
he appears to be genuinely interested in what I have
to say. He asks me questions about how to cook
certain dishes, what music I listen to, who I like to
read. He tells me he's grilling portabellas and wants
to know what wine would go well with that. He tells
me he and his girl go kayaking. He has this bemused
look at times. His arms are muscular, his body lean.
He is one of the few people I look forward to seeing
every week, though he's soon to be gone. Almost
out of school. On to bigger things. I don't even
know his name.
The young man at the liquor store walked out with me
and pulled the bird's nearly intact body from the grill. He
then reached in with his fingers and removed bloody
bird parts. The whole scene made me love him more,
this young man. If I was twenty five years younger
and single, I'd most likely have kissed him that way.
The way that kiss was so many years ago. That kiss.
Yes. The one which changes everything. Never been
kissed like that since. Though I have kissed through
many years of my life.
I felt old and sad and confused when she flew into the grill.
I think she killed herself. Maybe her partner had been killed.
Maybe she was sick and needed to be released. Maybe I am
to feel blessed that she chose me, and that I, in turn, chose him
to touch her still nearly perfect body.
I wonder some days if I shall ever be able to feel passion
the way I once did. I wonder some days if it wasn't to my
advantage to live with mania. It drove me. It kept me
on the edge. It kept me wondering. I am just simply tired
all of the time now. Not much room for passion. Real
life is intense but devoid of passion.
Had to hospitalize A. Mother-in-law broke her arm and
was hospitalized for 5 days. Trying to help her out, too.
A. was discharged Monday, so I brought her home after
I got off work. She's gone for the weekend, and I hoped
that would help her and help me, but there was to be no
R&R for me. J. calls telling me that A. calls her telling her
things which are red flags for J. I lost it. I said Why don't
you call L. and ask her what the hell is up? Intense. The
intensity is sucking the life outta me.
It's been raining throughout the night and morning.
Not raining now. Perfect weather for weeding. I need
to weed. I need weed. Weeds. I need to feel them
reluctantly untether themselves from the earth as I pull
them out. I need to feel their resilience.
Sometimes I get this idea that each time I pull a weed,
it laughs. It knows. I can come out year after year after
year and pull away, but I'm never going to win. There is
something in that losing which is healing and uplifting
to me.
I woke up remembering a kiss. Remembering
what it felt like to lose yourself in a kiss. Remembering
how just that one kiss changed my entire life.
A few days ago, a mourning dove was standing
in the middle of 41 A. Birds do that sometimes. Birds
other than scavengers. She was standing there, slowly
walking in that herky-jerky way birds walk, to the
southern shoulder of the road. I thought she would
just fly over me, but she flew right into the grill of my
car. Feathers rained over me for a few miles. I drove
to Kroger but refused to look at the front of my car.
Then I drove to the liquor store where this most
beautiful young man works. He reminds me of a
young Bob Dylan. The hair, the nose (though his is
a much nicer nose than Dylan's and his hair is light
brown). He's taller though. He's gentle and seems
somewhat delicate, he laughs easily, he listens intently,
he appears to be genuinely interested in what I have
to say. He asks me questions about how to cook
certain dishes, what music I listen to, who I like to
read. He tells me he's grilling portabellas and wants
to know what wine would go well with that. He tells
me he and his girl go kayaking. He has this bemused
look at times. His arms are muscular, his body lean.
He is one of the few people I look forward to seeing
every week, though he's soon to be gone. Almost
out of school. On to bigger things. I don't even
know his name.
The young man at the liquor store walked out with me
and pulled the bird's nearly intact body from the grill. He
then reached in with his fingers and removed bloody
bird parts. The whole scene made me love him more,
this young man. If I was twenty five years younger
and single, I'd most likely have kissed him that way.
The way that kiss was so many years ago. That kiss.
Yes. The one which changes everything. Never been
kissed like that since. Though I have kissed through
many years of my life.
I felt old and sad and confused when she flew into the grill.
I think she killed herself. Maybe her partner had been killed.
Maybe she was sick and needed to be released. Maybe I am
to feel blessed that she chose me, and that I, in turn, chose him
to touch her still nearly perfect body.
I wonder some days if I shall ever be able to feel passion
the way I once did. I wonder some days if it wasn't to my
advantage to live with mania. It drove me. It kept me
on the edge. It kept me wondering. I am just simply tired
all of the time now. Not much room for passion. Real
life is intense but devoid of passion.
Had to hospitalize A. Mother-in-law broke her arm and
was hospitalized for 5 days. Trying to help her out, too.
A. was discharged Monday, so I brought her home after
I got off work. She's gone for the weekend, and I hoped
that would help her and help me, but there was to be no
R&R for me. J. calls telling me that A. calls her telling her
things which are red flags for J. I lost it. I said Why don't
you call L. and ask her what the hell is up? Intense. The
intensity is sucking the life outta me.
It's been raining throughout the night and morning.
Not raining now. Perfect weather for weeding. I need
to weed. I need weed. Weeds. I need to feel them
reluctantly untether themselves from the earth as I pull
them out. I need to feel their resilience.
Sometimes I get this idea that each time I pull a weed,
it laughs. It knows. I can come out year after year after
year and pull away, but I'm never going to win. There is
something in that losing which is healing and uplifting
to me.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
To Do
brush teeth
wash face
do dishes
mop kitchen floor
do laundry
mow yard
plant the speedwell before it dies
shower
cook
do it all over again
and again
again
May just lie in bed and read--too hot to do anything outside.
It was 95 yesterday with a 105 heat index.
Let's see--lots of stress this week. A. is up and down.
I don't want to be making any kind of diagnosis, but
she is going through some definite rapid-cycling.
I can't think this would still be from the drug.
I love her and want her here, but she and Wes are not
getting along and she really doesn't like Molly at all!
Every time Molly barks, A. looks like she's going
to jump out of her skin. I think she's making Molly
a nervous wreck. Molly's definitely not behaving
like herself (not eating her breakfast 1/2 the time,
looking mopey). But what can I do? I am trying hard
to be here for everyone, but I'm getting stretched
rather thin. Thank goodness for the good days and
moments when things are on an even keel and we're
just quietly all hanging out together or we're playing
a game or having a nice meal.
Speaking of having a nice meal, something weird is
going on with me. I f****ing don't even want to cook
anymore. I was so digging creating new dishes or
finding old favorites in the recipe books or reading
new recipes and trying them. My shelves are lined
with recipe books, but my heart isn't in it. Matter of
fact, I don't even want to eat many days. Eat I do
though, and drink. Mostly drink lots at night and just
let the liquor take me away. I did teach A. how to
make tortellini soup last night. It was good, and she's
thrilled to know how to make it. Tonight something
very basic like a ginger-glazed chicken, some fresh
corn, broccoli, herbed new potatoes, but I could really
care less.
Sister lost her house. F***ing Obama plan is nothing
but hype. Any reader of this tripe who so chooses should
go review the website and read some of the testimonials.
Here's one that really gets me:
http://makinghomeaffordable.gov/example_modification.html
The chick in the example brings in $4,200.00 a month. Holy
crap! And she can't make ends meet on that? That's ludicrous!
It appears this is another one of those plans for people with money
who live beyond their means. I know my sister has worked
hard all of her life, not lived beyond her means, currently works
2-3 jobs to make sure she can pay her bills, but is she going
to get any help? Nope. She lost her job in Nov. and is now bringing
in only about 1/3 of what she once brought home, but can't they
work with her for five years to give her time to hopefully find
a better job or for the market to improve so she can sell the house
and actually have some money left after paying off the loan,
or enough time to find a better job and be able to continue to keep
her house.
But, it's a done deal. They (the infamous they) said no.
So, I have to figure out when I can get to Fl to help her
transport her art here. Most likely, she will rent a U-Haul
there and bring the work here and I'll take her back.
Much to consider.
Time to go brush my teeth. Crashed last night without doing
that and they feel really gross. Yuck.
brush teeth
wash face
do dishes
mop kitchen floor
do laundry
mow yard
plant the speedwell before it dies
shower
cook
do it all over again
and again
again
May just lie in bed and read--too hot to do anything outside.
It was 95 yesterday with a 105 heat index.
Let's see--lots of stress this week. A. is up and down.
I don't want to be making any kind of diagnosis, but
she is going through some definite rapid-cycling.
I can't think this would still be from the drug.
I love her and want her here, but she and Wes are not
getting along and she really doesn't like Molly at all!
Every time Molly barks, A. looks like she's going
to jump out of her skin. I think she's making Molly
a nervous wreck. Molly's definitely not behaving
like herself (not eating her breakfast 1/2 the time,
looking mopey). But what can I do? I am trying hard
to be here for everyone, but I'm getting stretched
rather thin. Thank goodness for the good days and
moments when things are on an even keel and we're
just quietly all hanging out together or we're playing
a game or having a nice meal.
Speaking of having a nice meal, something weird is
going on with me. I f****ing don't even want to cook
anymore. I was so digging creating new dishes or
finding old favorites in the recipe books or reading
new recipes and trying them. My shelves are lined
with recipe books, but my heart isn't in it. Matter of
fact, I don't even want to eat many days. Eat I do
though, and drink. Mostly drink lots at night and just
let the liquor take me away. I did teach A. how to
make tortellini soup last night. It was good, and she's
thrilled to know how to make it. Tonight something
very basic like a ginger-glazed chicken, some fresh
corn, broccoli, herbed new potatoes, but I could really
care less.
Sister lost her house. F***ing Obama plan is nothing
but hype. Any reader of this tripe who so chooses should
go review the website and read some of the testimonials.
Here's one that really gets me:
http://makinghomeaffordable.gov/example_modification.html
The chick in the example brings in $4,200.00 a month. Holy
crap! And she can't make ends meet on that? That's ludicrous!
It appears this is another one of those plans for people with money
who live beyond their means. I know my sister has worked
hard all of her life, not lived beyond her means, currently works
2-3 jobs to make sure she can pay her bills, but is she going
to get any help? Nope. She lost her job in Nov. and is now bringing
in only about 1/3 of what she once brought home, but can't they
work with her for five years to give her time to hopefully find
a better job or for the market to improve so she can sell the house
and actually have some money left after paying off the loan,
or enough time to find a better job and be able to continue to keep
her house.
But, it's a done deal. They (the infamous they) said no.
So, I have to figure out when I can get to Fl to help her
transport her art here. Most likely, she will rent a U-Haul
there and bring the work here and I'll take her back.
Much to consider.
Time to go brush my teeth. Crashed last night without doing
that and they feel really gross. Yuck.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Purpose
In the last week, two or three of my clients
told me during their initial assessment that they
just feel there is no purpose to their lives.
One of them is in her mid 40s--the others in their
50s. All presented with anhedonia and dysphoria,
all had suffered losses in the last 2-3 years, all had
grown children, each expressed a prior interest
in a variety fo things--gardening, art, reading--
which no longer exists. For as dysphoric as each
of them was, it gives me hope to know they reached
out for help.
So, I am thinking about purpose. What is my purpose?
Does it matter? How much? Will I be one of those
people who thinks I can never be the person I want
to be, who thinks of myself in utilitarian terms, who
lives the rest of my life on the outside looking in?
I don't know. It goes back to the old question:
What do you want to be when you grow up?
The question was not What do you want to do?
Be. Key word.
Today, I "be" lazing. Slept until 10:30. Eating a
light breakfast. Going to have lunch later with a
friend. Then I need to clean this mess up.
Email from Lauren. She was sick all night with severe
vomitting and diarrhea. That's bad enough when you're
in your own home, but when you're in Costa Rica in a
hostel room you're sharing with your boyfriend and
brother, that's real bad! She says she feels better
this morning. I sure hope the worst of it has passed.
In the last week, two or three of my clients
told me during their initial assessment that they
just feel there is no purpose to their lives.
One of them is in her mid 40s--the others in their
50s. All presented with anhedonia and dysphoria,
all had suffered losses in the last 2-3 years, all had
grown children, each expressed a prior interest
in a variety fo things--gardening, art, reading--
which no longer exists. For as dysphoric as each
of them was, it gives me hope to know they reached
out for help.
So, I am thinking about purpose. What is my purpose?
Does it matter? How much? Will I be one of those
people who thinks I can never be the person I want
to be, who thinks of myself in utilitarian terms, who
lives the rest of my life on the outside looking in?
I don't know. It goes back to the old question:
What do you want to be when you grow up?
The question was not What do you want to do?
Be. Key word.
Today, I "be" lazing. Slept until 10:30. Eating a
light breakfast. Going to have lunch later with a
friend. Then I need to clean this mess up.
Email from Lauren. She was sick all night with severe
vomitting and diarrhea. That's bad enough when you're
in your own home, but when you're in Costa Rica in a
hostel room you're sharing with your boyfriend and
brother, that's real bad! She says she feels better
this morning. I sure hope the worst of it has passed.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Some Rain
Much needed. For months, we had nothing but rain,
but now, when I really need it (just planted some new
flowers), it clouds up, thunders, and lightnings but only
produces a scant amount of precipitation.
Eating a turkey sandwich for breakfast. Turkey and some
Laughing Cow 50% less fat swiss cheese on whole wheat.
If I eat yogurt or cereal, I'm hungry again in about 2 hours,
but I don't get hungry if I eat a sandwich or leftovers
for breakfast.
Missing my son and will be glad when he gets back to the
country. Of course, I miss my daughter, too, but she does
not live here. It is going to be a huge adjustment for me
when Wes leaves. I've been a mom with children at home
since 1978. I would bring Isaac here if I didn't have to
put up Molly, but unfortunately, Molly still jumps on
people. Very annoying. I work hard with her, but my
husband doesn't, so there is no consistency in the training.
She is not going to stop until he does what I ask of him:
ignore her when you come in the door. Don't look at her,
don't pet her, don't speak to her, turn your back on her.
When she is calmer, then acknowledge her. Not the way
it works. So my grandson can't come over here. I go visit
him at his house. Need to go soon--haven't seen him in a
few weeks and I am missing him! Been busy with travel
and A. at the house. She's doing better each day, and I love
her company. We've always been close, and I'm glad she knew
she could come here.
Woke earlier than usual this morning. Maybe I'll actually
get to work on time!
Much needed. For months, we had nothing but rain,
but now, when I really need it (just planted some new
flowers), it clouds up, thunders, and lightnings but only
produces a scant amount of precipitation.
Eating a turkey sandwich for breakfast. Turkey and some
Laughing Cow 50% less fat swiss cheese on whole wheat.
If I eat yogurt or cereal, I'm hungry again in about 2 hours,
but I don't get hungry if I eat a sandwich or leftovers
for breakfast.
Missing my son and will be glad when he gets back to the
country. Of course, I miss my daughter, too, but she does
not live here. It is going to be a huge adjustment for me
when Wes leaves. I've been a mom with children at home
since 1978. I would bring Isaac here if I didn't have to
put up Molly, but unfortunately, Molly still jumps on
people. Very annoying. I work hard with her, but my
husband doesn't, so there is no consistency in the training.
She is not going to stop until he does what I ask of him:
ignore her when you come in the door. Don't look at her,
don't pet her, don't speak to her, turn your back on her.
When she is calmer, then acknowledge her. Not the way
it works. So my grandson can't come over here. I go visit
him at his house. Need to go soon--haven't seen him in a
few weeks and I am missing him! Been busy with travel
and A. at the house. She's doing better each day, and I love
her company. We've always been close, and I'm glad she knew
she could come here.
Woke earlier than usual this morning. Maybe I'll actually
get to work on time!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Reflections
I posted Reflections of My Life on my other blog.
The one I can't write on any longer. At least not
for now. I'll let the music speak for me.
I am making stuffed peppers. It is sunny. I planted
flowers yesterday. My heart has been skipping beats
all day. I was dreaming vividly this morning when
the alarm went off. I needed to stay in that dream,
but life was calling. I took Molly for a walk. I worked
1/2 of the day in Hopkinsville. I am getting more grey
hair. I am trying to hang with it. Hang with it.
The kids are enjoying Panama and will be heading back
to Costa Rica tomorrow. They did not enjoy their hostel
stay last night--too hot.
A. is doing better each day. Don't know yet about B. Won't
know for another week the results of her tests.
My mom is not feeling well. She will be 73 in Oct. I should
go see her more often. I have a hard time being with her.
It gets confusing.
I am ok. For this moment, and that is enough.
I posted Reflections of My Life on my other blog.
The one I can't write on any longer. At least not
for now. I'll let the music speak for me.
I am making stuffed peppers. It is sunny. I planted
flowers yesterday. My heart has been skipping beats
all day. I was dreaming vividly this morning when
the alarm went off. I needed to stay in that dream,
but life was calling. I took Molly for a walk. I worked
1/2 of the day in Hopkinsville. I am getting more grey
hair. I am trying to hang with it. Hang with it.
The kids are enjoying Panama and will be heading back
to Costa Rica tomorrow. They did not enjoy their hostel
stay last night--too hot.
A. is doing better each day. Don't know yet about B. Won't
know for another week the results of her tests.
My mom is not feeling well. She will be 73 in Oct. I should
go see her more often. I have a hard time being with her.
It gets confusing.
I am ok. For this moment, and that is enough.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Sleep
I get so little. I woke in the night (around
3) feeling very anxious. Been a long time since
I felt the need to take a Xanax in the middle of
the night, but I did, and I fell back asleep and did
not get up until 10:30. I feel I could go right back
to sleep now--only an hour since rising from the bed,
starting the coffee, taking Molly out, feeding her,
making myself some breakfast, and reading over
the Obama plan for affordable housing (sister is
about to lose her house--hopeful that won't happen).
A. is doing much better. I see improvement every
day. I think she has been overwhelmed and at her
breaking point for some time, and I think she
recognizes some triggers now which she did not
recognize before.
The kids are in Panama today. They are supposed
to go to the beach and through the canal and a few
other things. They will stay one more night and then
head back to Costa Rica.
J got married yesterday. She sent a text at 12:12 the
night before letting all of us (coworkers) know. We
suspected but she was being very secretive. I am happy
for her. I am happy when I am around or see two people
who really love one another. What an amazing part of life
loving another is, and if you have a person with you each day
until the end of your days and the love remains, what more
could you have asked for in this life? That was the first
wedding I had attended in several years. Just her son,
her dad and stepmom, her aunt & uncle, her brothers,
and three coworkers. They were just going to have their
witnesses present, but she changed her mind and had the
family there, and the night before, she told us. I am glad
I attended. Made me feel hopeful for the day.
Of course, there is the love of your children--a love no other
love is like, but children grow up and leave their parents,
as they should. So if the relationship between the parents
is tenuous and based largely on staying together for the
children, I would think it would be very difficult to keep
that relationship afloat.
Yesterday was simply beautiful outside. The kind of day
to take a picnic, a long hike, go to the park, go to the lake,
work in the yard, take a long walk. But I did none of those
things.
I was driving home from the recycling center and had to
make a detour because part of downtown was blocked
off for a soap box derby. As I turned left , I saw a father
(I assume), helping his daughter get into her soap box.
I noticed other participants bringing their cars to the
starting line. I could hear laughter, and see people smiling,
helping their kids, enjoying one small moment in the many
which make up our lifetimes. It made me feel sad.
It made me feel that I was wasting my day. It made me
long for those days when my children were younger
and we spent time doing things together. Sometimes I
feel so empty. I feel all of the joy in my life has gone away
to play somewhere else and might not ever revisit me.
Last night, however, it did. In the form of fireflies. The first
ones I have seen this year. I wanted to come in the house
and find an old jar and go catch some, but I was content
just to watch them, to let them bring light to an otherwise
dark and searching heart.
I get so little. I woke in the night (around
3) feeling very anxious. Been a long time since
I felt the need to take a Xanax in the middle of
the night, but I did, and I fell back asleep and did
not get up until 10:30. I feel I could go right back
to sleep now--only an hour since rising from the bed,
starting the coffee, taking Molly out, feeding her,
making myself some breakfast, and reading over
the Obama plan for affordable housing (sister is
about to lose her house--hopeful that won't happen).
A. is doing much better. I see improvement every
day. I think she has been overwhelmed and at her
breaking point for some time, and I think she
recognizes some triggers now which she did not
recognize before.
The kids are in Panama today. They are supposed
to go to the beach and through the canal and a few
other things. They will stay one more night and then
head back to Costa Rica.
J got married yesterday. She sent a text at 12:12 the
night before letting all of us (coworkers) know. We
suspected but she was being very secretive. I am happy
for her. I am happy when I am around or see two people
who really love one another. What an amazing part of life
loving another is, and if you have a person with you each day
until the end of your days and the love remains, what more
could you have asked for in this life? That was the first
wedding I had attended in several years. Just her son,
her dad and stepmom, her aunt & uncle, her brothers,
and three coworkers. They were just going to have their
witnesses present, but she changed her mind and had the
family there, and the night before, she told us. I am glad
I attended. Made me feel hopeful for the day.
Of course, there is the love of your children--a love no other
love is like, but children grow up and leave their parents,
as they should. So if the relationship between the parents
is tenuous and based largely on staying together for the
children, I would think it would be very difficult to keep
that relationship afloat.
Yesterday was simply beautiful outside. The kind of day
to take a picnic, a long hike, go to the park, go to the lake,
work in the yard, take a long walk. But I did none of those
things.
I was driving home from the recycling center and had to
make a detour because part of downtown was blocked
off for a soap box derby. As I turned left , I saw a father
(I assume), helping his daughter get into her soap box.
I noticed other participants bringing their cars to the
starting line. I could hear laughter, and see people smiling,
helping their kids, enjoying one small moment in the many
which make up our lifetimes. It made me feel sad.
It made me feel that I was wasting my day. It made me
long for those days when my children were younger
and we spent time doing things together. Sometimes I
feel so empty. I feel all of the joy in my life has gone away
to play somewhere else and might not ever revisit me.
Last night, however, it did. In the form of fireflies. The first
ones I have seen this year. I wanted to come in the house
and find an old jar and go catch some, but I was content
just to watch them, to let them bring light to an otherwise
dark and searching heart.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
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