cause nine months is too long,

i've decided to move the novel to my old writing journal, at http://jaels-game.livejournal.com/ i didn't want to clog this journal up with a novel. go there, go, go. :).

just an everyday girl.....,

Well, i'm not sure how to attach files, so i'll post the next installment here like the rest.
This, she knew, was why she had such trouble getting and keeping interns. The last one she had with any staying power had left during the rebellion. Holi couldn't blame her, she knew she had left to follow her partner. Her blind devotion was reminiscent of her relationship with Deborah when they were young; despite the distances of adulthood, she supposed, it was still reminiscent of their relationship.
“Are you going to speak?” she asked the now silent interruption, never looking up from her work. “There's a man outside, looking for mother.” “Assuredly, my dear, under this mask I do not look like Mother.” There was a particularly difficult connection that was troubling her, the electronic synapses that functioned the scent receptors. This was necessary for the medicine to accurately identify the poison from the good tissue, but each pill would disintegrate after only one use due to the receptor's introduction to the corrosive liquid.
“yes, I know. When the guard at the gate informed him that mother would not see him, however, he asked for her partner. When she informed him that mother didn't have a partner, he insisted that he see the woman in the mask then. Keturah thought he must know you then, and called in.”
“You don't need to be someone important to know I wear a mask.”
she was toying with an organic compound that might act as a resin covering the receptors. It was delicate work applying it however. “Tell him to call in and make an appointment if he wants to hire our services.”
“That's what Keturah told him. He is refusing to leave though. He keeps saying that if we would only tell you or mother that it's Daniel, you will see him.”
“i know many daniel's. I don't particularly care to see any of them right now.” there, the resin was applied, and once it dried it would be placed in a tank of acid to ascertain durability. Finally, she turned to look at her assistant. She could see the girl cringing slightly, and made a mental note to replace her. Assistants weren't useful if they were visibly afraid of you. That was part of why she had first bonded so with Vashti, who had seen through her from the start. She remembered the first time she'd met the girl, only eleven. She had come for a physical, looked at her with large inquisitive eyes, and queried, “why do you think people are afraid of you?” “amused by the question, she had responded, 'I guess because i'm scary.” “well”, and it was here that she became first acquainted with the mischievous smile she would later know so well, “i don't think so. So i'm not going to be scared. i've decided to like you, and .i don't change my mind.” “We shall see,” holi had intoned ominously, but inside she'd been delighted. It had been her plan to make Vashti her assistant, but the girl had proven so adept at the family's greater work that she couldn't be spared. Instead, slowly, Holi had grown to love her almost as a daughter. She could still see her, as she grew, perching on the edge of the exam table, ebony hair thrown back carelessly and eyes afire with excitement as she described the intimate details of her last night's work. Or smiling slyly as she purposely teased Holi, and then laughing outright as she pulled a flung knife from the wall. “How do you not react at all when I do that,” Holi had asked one night, deftly catching the hilt on the engraved piece Vashti tossed back. She liked to throw knives, when she was truly angry it vented frustration and when she was in a good mood it was fine sport. Yet even Deborah flinched ever so slightly, after all their years of partnership. It was human. Vashti, however, did not, and this puzzled the scientist within her. “i know, Hols, that you would never hurt me. So I don't need to be afraid.” With that she'd jumped off the table, and kissed the cold glass of Holi's cheek. “i'm wiped though. Best off to sleep with me, more death and destruction tomorrow.” In her memory, Oholibah froze that moment for the thousandth time, examining the careless wave and wide smile for any sign, any glimpse she'd missed of what was to come. For the thousandth time, she saw none.
“Doctor?” Few in the family received the honor of knowing her name. Her culture believed in hiding faces and real names from all but the closest family and friends. Though she'd abandoned her people and planet years ago, she could bring herself to abandon the culture that had identified her during her young life. At the moment, the fact that this particular whelp's strident and nervous tones had shattered her private revelry not only reinforced the idea that this girl would never be in that private circle, but also solidified her resolution to replace her as soon as possible. Which wouldn't make mother very happy; she'd passed her on to Holi partially because the girl was a very inept fighter. “What do you want me to do? How do we make someone leave, when he won't?”
Holi clenched her jaw, almost tangibly swallowing the caustic retort, “you're a member of the universe's most feared assassin clan. It's sad that you have no recourse for convincing someone to leave.” Instead she stood, deciding that to get out of her new assistant's presence at the moment was probably in both of their best interests. “Tell Keturah that i'll be right there.”
Chapter 4
Daniel tried to squelch the shudders threatening to course through his frame. He shouldn't have come, but he had felt a face to face meeting would be his best chance of success. Still, though he had known what Deborah did, he had never had to face it. Standing here, facing down a young woman who he knew would need no gun to stop him if he made one wrong move, he wondered if this might be the stupidest move he had ever made. He looked at the slick black sphere in front of him, completely smooth, unmarred by any visible window or door. It was clearly intended to disconcert anyone who came, as was the tall woman glaring at him, her uniform appearance of black mask and suit stripping her of any visible humanity. Logically, he could reason that were she a senior member she wouldn't have acted as uncertain as she had thus far in their interactions. Then again, logically, he knew that even the most inexperienced sisters could kill him before he could protest. The best could do it before he even thought to be afraid.
The girl, clad in a form fitting black leather with no adornments and the black tiger's head mask which fueled so many nightmares, suddenly spoke. He knew she was not speaking to him, as she spoke in a language Deborah had once told him no one in the galaxy could speak but the sisters. He had asked how she knew no one had ever cracked it, teasing. She had replied, deadpan, that anyone who had was already dead, and this kept most others from even trying. Even the girls voice was designed to instill fear, low and monotone, processed carefully through the mask to allow room for no emotion, no human connection. He shuddered again when this voice was suddenly directed to him, in the common language.
“One of our leaders is coming to see you. If mother doesn't know you as well as you say, I would flee prior to her arrival.”
“i ought to have fled long ago,” he chuckled wryly.
“Probably.” She responded, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally. He knew her nonchalance wasn't feigned. To her, he felt certain, it made no difference whether he lived or died. She had tried to warn him. Ignoring this was his choice.
If he had thought before that he was frightened, the apparition which emerged a moment later through a hole which seemingly materialized in mid air convinced him that he hadn't known what the emotion was. She was dressed exactly as the guard had been, except for the mask. Where the tigers head normally was, a black hood attached to velvet cloak, and hung low over a shadowed face. When her head lifted, to peruse him, though, was when his stomach dropped. In place of a face was a pure white canvas, molded in the shape of a human visage but lacking the distinguishing markers of humanity. The effect was as of a marble statue come to life, solid and unfeeling. “Sister.” Even in speech, though the marble lips parted, no throat shone through. Her voice was the same as the others, dry, inhuman. “Doctor.” The girl responded. “Is this the man?” She had turned away from him, and spoke of him as if he weren't there. He didn't dare argue. “Yes, doctor. He claims mother will want to speak with him.” “Do we allow people to walk in and demand to see us?” He could, for the first time, see emotion from the girl, as she shirked away in what must be fear. “No, doctor.” He felt there must be a reason why the more senior member was speaking the basic language, probably to humiliate the girl in front of him. “It is good that this man is not dangerous. If he were, and you left him within our perimeter, it would not be him you had to fear.” “Yes, doctor.” “Now alert the family that we have a non-hostile who will be escorted through the halls between the gate and mother's office.” “Yes, doctor.” Only then did the statue turn his direction. “You are fortunate, sir, that it was not someone more experienced on guard duty today. Come with me.” With that, she turned and disappeared. For just a moment, Daniel wondered if he really wanted to follow her into the blackness. Muttering a prayer under his breath, he walked through the door.

i wanna be a toys r us kid.....

"i'm sorry dan. i'm just worried." walking around the edge of his desk, she settled gingerly onto the arm of the large wingtip office chair the kids had bought him as a Christmas present two years ago. It was old, and hideous green, with tufts of fluff sticking out on the edge of each arm. Still, he loved it. If they had to move, it would be the one piece of furniture he personally would try to bring with him. He had acquired very little by way of personal belongings through the years, and even less he would be unwilling to part with. If it came to it, they would use what little ability they had to carry items with them to allow each child to bring two items. That had already been decided. He just hoped they wouldn't have to come to that.
He looked over at his friend and partner of the last fifteen years. Mara was no nonsense, no frills. Preferring coveralls and flannel to fine lace and skirts, her hair lay in a perpetual messy bun, cinnamon strands framing her face in a wild array. She had been his closest companion in the work he felt he had been called to do. She put God first. She loved the kids ardently, and had no problem either hanging up drywall or bandaging bruised knees. She should have been his perfect mate, and sometimes he wondered why she wasn't, why things hadn't worked out differently. He knew she wondered as well.
"So what do you want to do?" he patted her hand gently, then leaned slightly away, guarding himself against the intimacy of the moment as he was careful to do a dozen times a day. He knew she caught the motion and knew it disappointed her but, as was her wont dealt with it stoically. "Is there anything we can do. They said they would come to claim our property in a week. They have no right, but we have no defense. If we try to fight them off, we are certain to put the kids in danger. If we are killed, they will be worse off than if they are displaced. We have to move, but we have no place to send the kids while we set up a new site. They will have to go back to their families, or to the streets. We'll regather them as soon as we can, if we can."
"Maybe we could fight them off if we had help." This was spoken almost to himself. he rose, looking off into the distance, and stood lost in thought for a long moment, then shook his head slightly and focused on her. "You know, don't you, how much you mean to me, even though though there can't be an us. You and the kids are the only ones i would do this for." "Do what?" "You'll see if it works." He kissed the top of her head gently, then backed away. "i'm going to be gone for a few days. Take care of things here." Before she could say any more, he walked from the room.
Chapter 3
Oholibah was humming softly to herself, doing her favorite hobby in her favorite place, when her new assistant walked into the room. It took less than two seconds for the knife to leave her hand, another second for it to lodge securely into the wall a hairsbreadth from the girl's shoulder. "If no one is bleeding, i suggest you rethink your decision to come in here," she said, never looking up from her work. She was coming off of a four hour surgery on a sister's broken leg, a messy compound fracture which had severed the arteries of the girl's thigh on its way through the skin. She had decided that work that tedious warranted some relaxation, and had retired to her lab. Spread out before her was the latest imagining of the mechanical bugs which served to help keep Vashti alive. Vashti was the closest thing she'd ever had to a daughter, and since ingesting the poison intended for her betrothed, her health was tenuous at best. The poison hadn't killed her, due tot he genetic modifications she underwent to work as a poison tester in early childhood. That had bought enough time for Oholibah to arrive, and in time she had managed to flush it from Vashti's system, but not until after it had done severe damage. Many of the vital membranes of her body were thinned, leading to a danger of internal bleeding, and any but the slightest contact on most of her body resulted in bruising. Vashti said it was good that God had made her a good fighter, and it was true that most people's inability to actually land a blow upon her was a blessing. Still, the world was full of dangers to someone with skin of glass. Oholibah had invented, then, these mechanical pills, small bugs really which were programed to travel through her system and repair any damage they came across.

rain all day.....

Okay, so i'm going to at least start this novel experience here. :). at least, Lord willing, that's the plan. there's a few reasons for this, one of the largest being that i know v reads this, and she was my novel friend while traveling. please note, though, that the point of this experience is supposed to be quick and dirty writing, not a lot of polishing. so if it's not so amazing, don't judge me. ;OD. okay, thank and praise God (for all)!!!!!!!!!! and Lord willing all is good, and awaaaay we go. :OD.

chapter 1
She wasn't much for boys, actually. She knew what they were like, underneath all the flirtatious games and macho posturing. She knew how they acted once they had completed their mission, conquered their game. Boys were hunters, and she prided herself on never being hunted anymore. No, she wasn't much for boys at all. Still, she played along with these bar nights, with the dressing up and scoping out the most prime examples of physical beauty. She batted her eyelashes and asked for drinks. She played the game, and played it wholeheartedly for as much as she disliked the male species in general, she loved Deborah. These nights out made Deborah happy, and she would have done far worse things to please Deborah, had done far worse things in the name of sisterhood. It was, after all, the least she could do.
It had been Deborah who had first found her after her self-imposed exile. That technically wasn't true she supposed, the logical part of her brain hated to ever state something as fact which wasn't, in the most literal sense, a fact. She had been seen by dozens, probably hundreds, of others that day two years ago. Wandering the streets, dirty, disoriented, empty, virtually catatonic, she had been living on the streets at that point for a week. Unused to hard living, she was sick and hungry. She had taken nothing from home but what she was wearing, a medical book from her dad's library, and 50 credits. Like an idiot she had thought that would get her far. Passage to the nearest planet took most of it, and food the first two days had taken the rest. She had stolen a knife to protect herself with, and spent her nights hiding in strategic locations, and her days wandering. The knife had been only an instinctual thing, actually, as was the process of rising and walking each day. Long after logical thought had been suppressed, her survival instincts tenaciously insisted on remaining, her subconscious clinging ardently to the frame holding it. She didn't want to feel, but she could not cease to be. So she wandered, and occasionally heard the voices around her wager on how long the poor girl would last.
It was during the heat of the day that she first saw the black form from the corner of her eye. She had always been observant, and had an insatiable curiosity. Without meaning to, she found herself turning to follow the form, but it was gone.
Later, Deborah had told her that it was this attention which, in turn, had caused her to take notice to the life below. Deborah was good at her job, and her job was invisibility. For someone to see her was disturbing. She had an assignment, but after its completion she had followed the girl the locals had begun to call the "doctor". She needed to know if she was a threat. Instead of danger, she saw need and made the rash decision to bring the girl home. She had devoted time to bringing her back from the nothingness into which she had climbed, gave her a family, skills, and a mission. The girls became partners, and later best friends.
"Hello, Hols, you in there?" Always chipper on these nights out, light and carefree, Deborah was laughing as she interrupted the memory.
"Sorry, I was just thinking about when we met. I phased out." Deborah laughed at Oholibah for her blunt frankness, and the tendency to say what she wanted regardless of social convention. "What were you saying?"
"What about him? The one with the bangs, over on the end. I think he's checking me out, and you know I won't entertain anyone who doesn't pass your creep radar."
"They're all creeps." Deborah just laughed.
"He appears to be less creepy than most, though. Look at him, he's actually blushing looking over here. He's also clutching his glass- he's obviously uncomfortable in this environment. My guess is he's here only under pressure from his friend there. I'd say he has more to worry about from you."
"My favorite kind of game. Do you think he's cute?"
"Yeah, he's cute enough, though he's not my type."
"Hols, we've been friends since you were sixteen, and I have yet to discover what your type is." Deborah started to swing her long legs off the bar stool, and brushed her thick chestnut curls back over her shoulder.
"It used to be tall, dark, and handsome. Now it's anyone who doesn't remind me of tall, dark and handsome." Holi responded wryly, climbing off her own stool.
"Come on, let's go watch you devour some poor innocent young boy." This was her role, as a devoted friend, playing wing girl to Deb, the consummate flirt. Nothing serious would result from the encounter, more than a casual fling did not sit well with the family. Still, Mother understood that young women in a high stress job needed to let off steam. What the girls did on their days off was their business, so long as it didn't follow them home.
"I never dance with anyone who isn't willing." Deb shot back with a laugh. "If he ends up devoured, it will be his choice."
The rest of the evening had progressed much like dozens of other nights. Deb, with her infectious personality, tall sinewy frame and ample curves had no trouble ensuring that her playmate went to his fate willingly. The two left for a walk around midnight, and Holi sat down to chat with his friend. In time they, too left. Holi didn't like boys, when they signaled relationships, but when she was the predator and it signified nothing, she was not adverse to dabbling in the game herself.
As was their habit, she met Deborah back at the ship promptly at five the next morning. They had work later in the day, and needed to get back. Mother became very cranky if her girls did not check in home before a job, and with plenty of time to prepare.
"So, how was it." Holi noticed right away that something was different this time. Debs face was practically glowing. Deb hadn't been an innocent child since she was eight, and normally her carefree glee was a veneer covering the steel which those closest to her knew was always lying just beneath. This time was different, however. She seemed genuinely radiant, as if she really didn't have a care in the world. It warmed Holi's heart to see.
"Oh, Hols, you have no idea."
"That good, huh?"
"No, it wasn't even like that. We talked Hols, just talked. It was amazing."
"It must have been, you're giggling like a schoolgirl."
Deb sat down in the pilot's chair, beginning the pre-flight steps from habit. Holi strapped herself into the chair next to her, engaging the nav system.
"Oh Hols, it was unbelievable. We started to kiss, and I tried to progress things. He stopped me. At first I was insulted, and started to stomp off. He called me back though, and said in this really soft gentle voice, 'Can't we just get to know each other first? You intrigue me.' We talked for the rest of the night, about everything." Holi glanced in her direction, raising her eyebrows and eliciting another giggle. "Okay, so obviously we didn't talk about everything. We must have talked about almost everything of no consequence, though. I felt, well, please don't take this the wrong way, but I felt like I was normal for a time. Don't get me wrong, I love my life and wouldn't change it for the world, you know that. Most eighteen year old girls haven't spent a decade doing this though, you know? It was nice, for just a few hours, to feel normal."
"I'm happy for you Deb. I really am."
As the atmosphere tinged the windshield orange, Deb broke the silence again, in a pleading tone she almost never used. "Hey Hols?" "Yeah." "Do you think we could come back next week?" "Whatever makes you happy, you know that." "Thanks Hols. Now let's plan for tonight's job." The rest of the trip was spent in the mapping out of the tricks of their trade.
Chapter 2
twenty years later
"What are we going to do?" Mara's voice could become shrill when she was nervous, and the pieces of shredded napkin littering the dull brown carpet belied the fact that she was very, very nervous. Not like Daniel wouldn't have known even without the tell tale tissue, he was certain that soon the carpet would be permanently worn into the pattern of her pacing. "They are just kids, Dan, and they have no where else to go. Do you know what will happen to those girls if they end up back on the street?"
"Yes, Mara, I know." burying his head in his hands, Daniel indulged in a momentary expression of frustration- tousling his hair, prematurely salt and pepper, roughly with his fingers.

break the circle,

In what i've begun calling a fit of selfish masochism, i've signed up for nanowrimo 2010. i meant to begin my novel here last night, and fell asleep after that first sentence. whoops. watch this space for further development.

stay all day with you.

Once again, it's been too long since i've posted. this may not be much of a post anyway, as i'm a mite bit distracted. we're going through the looping conversation again. i've not had a car for around three weeks now. mom doesn't deal very well with this. actually, she's been off lately. it seems like it's been this way every since her med change- she was without briefly, and then the dose was upped. the medicine is supposed, i think, to help her maintain her emotions- but she seems more confused and antsy than before. this may warrant a call to her doctor tomorrow.

she's been doing well with her day center, thank and praise God!!!!! (for all!!!!!). she only goes two days a week, and she fights on the way to it and while getting ready for it, but she seems to have fun whilst there. the problem with that is bubs said someone was yelling at another man- one of the staff. i'm going to call tomorrow i think and report it. i am not paying to send my mom somewhere she might get yelled at.

the nurse practitioner wants to send me to a nuerologist maybe, because of my head pains, and the confusion i was having before. "because of my family history" she said. now i'm sure nothing's wrong, and i think she doesn't think anything is either, but the idea is a little scary, especially on days like yesterday where i couldn't dredge up terms like "cookies and cream" while ordering ice cream at first. i'm hoping it's my normal hypochondria, and my worrying about it making it seem more drastic. it seems to be worse around my period actually, this summer was when i first noticed it as i caught myself saying one thing but thinking to say another, writing half of numbers and then catching it, and returning to my former speech impediment (catching myself catch up on r's and w's sounds).

she also wants me to get my heart checked. again, it's for the problems i've had for years. jump in my chest that can be strong enough to make me cough. i think she's just overly cautious, but while she thinks it's fine she says it's her job to make sure there's nothing wrong. she had me do bloodwork, but i wasn't able to keep the appointment to discuss it because of the no car situation. i'm trying not to tell anyone any of this. i don't want to be told i'm a hypochondriac again, even while i hope i am. so i don't plan on keeping that appointment until i have a car again, and no one needs to know. when she tells me i'm fine, that way, no one else will think i was being stupid. when she first ordered the ekg and halter test, i never did them. the "feeling myself breathe" went away, and my sister lectured me again that i have anxiety and am fine. but when i went back to the doctor because my head was hurting, she lectured me because i hadn't had the tests she ordered. sigh. oh well.


of course please don't take me seriously. i am fine, i'm sure, Lord willing. and God takes care of me and seems, by His grace, Lord willing, to be patient with my hypochondria. here's praying i always stay fine. :OD.

this is my blog though, and thus my place to type out even the silly things.

okay, mom's mumbled expletives, etc. continue. i'm tired, and may take a nap prior to my five o'clock Bible study. i think my youth group is ending. i wonder a bit if this is God's way of preparing for me to leave the church.

You're love is amazing..... (God)

Cross-posted from my livejournal:
Wow, it's been a while. So i'm working on updating this and my blogspot blog a bit more, and maybe i'll take a page from gina's book, though i won't do the entire blog revitalization plan. The first day of it, though, was an introduction. i was thinking about how much that introduction has changed since i first opened this account. So here is who i think i am now. it's not who i used to think i'd be at this age, necessarily. but so much of me is the same. and i'm happy with how it is:

Soon i'll be 31, i'm female, brown hair, brown eyes, short-ish and not nearly so athletic as i once was and hope to be again. That stuff hasn't changed much, except perhaps for the less athletic bit. i'm more of a housewife now than i used to be, though in my honest moments i can admit that i'm not very good at this housewife thing. i live at home with my brother and my mom. mom has some health issues, which is why i live at home, at least partially. people talk all the time about how brave, or good, or courageous this makes me. really, it doesn't. your parents take care of you, you take care of them. that's the way it should be- and i think it's the way God wants it, at least as long as you can do it. i'm tired of people lecturing me about giving up my life, sacrificing my happiness, yadda, yadda, yadda. i haven't received this lecture in a while, but it hasn't, i imagine, gone entirely away. this is my choice, and i'm excessively happy with it. so keep your opinions to yourself kindly. thanks. so i guess you could call me a caregiver, but thank and praise God!!!!!!! (for all!!!!!!!) that mom's been doing really well for a while now, she really isn't declining much if at all, and so let's just say i'm not a caregiver i'm a daughter.

i'm also a mite bit ocd. okay, maybe more than a mite bit. i'm okay with that though. God is amazing! He gets me through everything, and He made me who i am, and i'm grateful to Him. it's been a while since i've had a major anxiety issue too. So really, thank God!, mentally i've been very well adjusted. :OD.

i'm an instructor now at a workforce development center. recently my boss offered to steal me away for full-time grantwriting. i began to fear, while very excited about this, that i would miss my classroom. God came through again, praise Him! the current plan is for me to do half-time, once i talked to the boss about it. So, Lord willing, in the next few weeks i'll be able to say that i'm both an instructor and a development specialist. much love. i've my master's in social work, my bachelor's in english, my secondary english certification, and i'm currently pursuing my social work license. praise God!

oh, i'm a reporter too, at night. it's a good job, covering police reports, municipal meetings, and school boards.

i used to be very into fencing, but i've sadly fallen out of that as well. it's on that list of things i want to do again some day. running, fencing, clarinet playing,..... but i'm happy with how i am.

i used to be very into the sca. our local barony got way raunchy, however, etc., and my priorities just changed. that's on the list of things i may want to do again some day. for now lurking at times suits me just fine.

my social life went down somewhat a while back. it was probably a few months before i realized how little i missed it. funny how growing up changes you.

my love life is back to zero. e. eventually gave up on us, which hurt for a bit because he did it rather abruptly to my mind, but i'm grateful and see how that was for the best too. i'm currently, at least in word, endeavoring to wait for the guy (if any) God has for me. in the meantime i thank Him for His being there, and for my brother's living at home. you know, he can help sometimes with guy things, etc.

you may have noticed i'm a bit religious. Christian, baptist by denomination, but i call myself a liberal conservative. God is at the center of my life, or He should be. He is wonderful to me! He is the only way to salvation. He is the only reason i've gotten as far as i have. i get tired of people lecturing me about my religion, and how i spend too much time at church with youth group, sunday school, and missions board. they don't seem to realize that for me, my beliefs are integral.

they don't have a job.....

basically, this is just a post to point out that you may have noticed that i have done a little redecorating. i was washing dishes today, and was thinking about my missions. this, now, appears to be my mission, and thank God for it. may He help me through it, and to try to do as He would have me to do. praise Him for all. amen.

it took a cup of coffee, to prove that you don't love me.....

"Just let me be bitter for a minute without a smart reply." That's basically what i said to bubs a minute ago, and he tried to hand me a beer. For him, that's tantamount to loving support, and were it not Sunday i would probably have taken it. i have problems drinking on Sunday however. i planned on starting this entry by writing that, "i'm trying not to be bitter". i guess, however, that i'm not actually trying very hard. i'm kind of rolling in it, like a pig seeking the cooling effect of sludge. So i'll post here, get it out, and perhaps then try not to be bitter.


i think, with a friend's help, i've nailed down at least part of why people think i'm a lesbian. This happens in cycles, the rumors start spreading, and the comments are made. It was recently suggested that it might have something to do with my not being very open, with the average person, about my attraction to or feelings towards men. This, i think, can also be carried out to the relationships, or what passes for relationships in my messed up love life, that i do have.

e., for instance. i don't know if the average person realizes how involved i actually was. Probably e. never did. Now in the end the end was my fault. Though i would say that he finally severed the ties, and in a manner which hurt more than most people likely knew, he did so because i wouldn't commit to beginning a relationship i was unsure was right, or would work out. Thus we did the dance for five years or so. he retreated, stopped calling as much, stopped communicating, and seemed uninterested in getting together. The retreat seemed abrupt to me, and some of his reticence seemed to come at times when i felt i needed someone. (This also is probably at least partially my fault, as i also don't communicate need as clearly as others perhaps.) Thus for him to go from "i'll always be there for you" to "i never want to spend time with you" hurt. In the end i think he was protecting himself. Having finally given up on us, he distanced himself. It's just he never came out and flat out said that, leaving me hanging. Probably, he doesn't see it that way.

At any rate, we began sort of mending bridges at a certain point. i became a weekly call, like his mom, though he still didn't seem to want to get together much. Then he announced he was seeing someone else, i hung up, called a friend, and cried, and we moved on. i resolved not to try to drag him back, as i've done in the past, but to let him move on peacefully, as i still could not commit to something i didn't know was right. i think i even, last week, dealt with his relating the tale of his new relationship in front of me quite well. my girlfriend said my silence sold me out. Still, i'm proud of myself.

So that's the background of the bitterness. Here's the meat itself: it's his last week before he moves to take a new job. Discussing our activities this week, he states he's going to dinner with the new girl on Thursday. They are supposed to be just friends at this point, leaving the more open. As i said, i am not trying to get in the way of this, at least not as i would have in the past. we are moving on. It's for the best too, i honestly believe. While he had so much of what i wanted, and knew me so well, and we got along so well, we never quite meshed exactly, and i think part of that was religion wise. Same religion, different levels of devotion. At it's base i think that's part of why it never worked, though i don't think it's the only part. Still......

he was the closest thing to a relationship i had for three or four years. we did the dance for that long, he stayed with me on the computer for hours when i lost my cat, i talked with him during an anxiety attack at a hotel. If nothing else, we were really close friends. he knew and accepted things about me most people don't know. i didn't spill his secrets. They've gotten together a few times now, she took my place in the online chat sessions, (did i mention that she shares my name); he met her maybe a month or two ago. They aren't technically in a relationship, or i would have no grounds for my bitterness. to be truthful, i probably don't anyway. however, during his last week, she gets dinner. i probably won't get anything beyond tonight's phone call.

because i was more involved than probably most people realize this makes me bitter, even granting that it wasn't meant to be and we are better moved on. because most people don't read me that well, my friends tease me about it, crack jokes, and get all flippant about it. Instead of commiserating while i lick my, admittedly superficial (and Thank God!!!!! they're superficial (and for all else)), wounds they either chuckle at my expense, tell me it's my fault and i'm stupid for not going for it before, or tell me how good it is he's happy. (It is.) i wanted to think, though, that even just as a friend i would rank pretty highly.

so here we go. The computer screen won't crack a joke, and i've been able to vent at length. this is therapeutic. now, if i'm good as i should be, i'll pray that the bitterness passes. and, like a good little ice princess, i'll be stoic through the jokes, silent through the stories, and when saturday comes i will try not to dwell on the fact that she ranked higher than me, even as a friend. i won't mention it to anyone, but you. i'll hold my tongue about the weight of a few months over a few years, and the annoyance that most people won't realize.

/emo moment over. we now return you to your regularly scheduled program.

an everyday girl

Dementia is a faultless disease. For mom, nothing is her fault. Everything is ours, and this can be difficult to deal with, this constant blame. There's a fine tightrope between accepting blame which is deserved, and internalizing blame which is the result of a diseased brain. What isn't really our fault, her memory twists to become so. There is that old adage, “There is neither good nor bad but thinking makes it so.” This is pivotal in dementia- that which they think is true oftentimes, regardless of reality. I read a book review once which explained the obstinate nature of those with dementia in a simple yet convincing way. If someone came to you and told you the sky was green, absolutely insisted the sky was green, and called you crazy for thinking it blue, wouldn't you be frustrated? No imagine if every person you met told you it was green, treated you like a child for denying this lie, locked you up and drugged you into submission. Dementia eats holes in your memory, and a void in reality is frightening. The best thing, then, for one's peace of mind is to fill in those holes; an empty ravine is much more terrifying than one filled with sod. Once the holes are filled, do you dare disturb the dirt, or do you vehemently maintain that it was always there. Why should we get angry at those with dementia? They are only doing what any reasonable person would do.

cat lady.....

So i've been.....emotional lately. While i was cleaning, or something, i was plotting this post in my head, and have decided to try and write it before i take a shower. (the problem with being an employment skills instructor is that you really ought to practice what you preach- i.e. personal hygiene, thus i shower now perhaps more often than i used to). There's a small voice in my head saying that perhaps i oughtn't to even post something like this onto the world wide web- and an even larger voice saying it' s my blog and, barring terrible horrible no good very bad things (name that book), i should be able to post whatever i want. Caveats aside, away we go.

Perhaps i should preface this with the fact that i've been blissfully unemotional lately, thank and praise God!!!!! Oh, there were the feelings of low self-esteem caused by e's foray into a new dating relationship, and there's the occasional blowup, but, thank and praise God!!!!!!! for all!!!!!!!!! none of this compares with the emotional storms of the past. Most of the time i'm rather happy, and sailing an even keel, no night terrors, no freak outs, and a somewhat sunny view of life. So erase that first sentence, and replace it with, "so today i've been kind of emotional".

now not all emotions are bad. Sure, this evening i've had my share of snippishness and malaise, but earlier was quite fun. There's a reason, i know, why i've been more emotional today. i have no immediate plans of using my uterus for an incubator, and it's making its monthly protest of this decision. This is usually accompanied by varying levels of emotional upset- ranging from little to no, to the infamous superhero, the nefarious "super-mood".

One thing which is relatively standard, however, is a certain tendency to be..... how to put this delicately..... on the prowl. No i've been blessed, i'd say, with an unusually low sex drive. That is to say, as a general rule, i'm not overly tempted to make out with someone, or even kiss someone, and the idea of going further is forbidden enough to hold very, extremely, incredibly, little allure. As a general rule, i'm about as cuddly as a porcupine. Though i have been known to enjoy the odd evening leaning against a guy, watching tv and talking while sharing a blanket (fully clothed and not laying down) on the couch, the enjoyment comes more from a feeling of comfort and being liked, i daresay, than any true pleasure from the physical touch. Like wine, i enjoy what physical touch represents, more than the substance itself. During the scheduled uterine protest, however, i have to watch myself , or i might catch myself flirting crazily with any unattached male who catches my fancy. Flirting, unlike physical contact, is something i enjoy on a regular basis. This turns it up a notch (or two, or three, or four). The infamous "marcus night", the closest i've ever been to toying a little too far with the physical line (for which i've thanked and praised God since i didn't get myself in trouble, as sneaking down to flirt rampantly with a drunk guy is not the safest thing i've ever done), led not only to the nightmare that is at least partially responsible for curing me of such nights since, but to my morning revelation of "oh, no wonder i acted like that". i now try to guard against this a mite bit better.

Enter the man i went to assist in proctoring an official test today at work. Cute, a fun sense of humor, a fellow instructor, nice eyes, successful, and wearing a silver ring. Yes, i checked. Yes, i then checked the ring fingers of other men in the room, and did the mental calisthenics to see if "the" ring was indeed on "the" finger. Much to my dismay, it was. Yes, i checked again. Yes, it was still there. Okay, this makes him off limits for flirtation. (Though any other time i might have reasoned that as a co-worker he probably already should have been.) Here, to me, is the funny part. Were freud right about the parts of our subconscious, and i able to hear them, i fancy the conversation might have gone something like this:
superego: Do not flirt. Do not check him out. Do not feel attracted to him.
id: but check out his eyes. they're pretty. do you feel the chemistry too?
superego: No. Back away from him. Avert your eyes. No flirting!
ego: but in id's defense, it's rude to look away when talking to someone. Wait? Did he just say something important?
memory: Don't worry. Got it! Could you please pay attention though?
superego: Yes- pay attention. This is important. Remember, we're at w-o-r-k, and that's a wedding ring.
ego: but it's not gold like the other guys'. maybe it's a pretty ring he just likes to wear. or maybe.....
id: ooh, let's daydream about this, he only wears it to discourage women hitting on him.
ego: like us you mean?????
id: yes, crap. i mean no, like other, sketchy women.
superego: it doesn't matter, a ring on that finger means he's married, and thus off limits. now shut up id and step away from the man.
id: it wouldn't hurt to flirt a little. harmless.
superego: ahem. we are Christian. no flirting. period.
id: then tell ego to stop playing along.
ego: it isn't gold you know..... but some men do have silver rings.....
superego: no means no. and that's final.
ego and id: awww, okay.
scene 4: the departure and the handshake
id: oooh, was there chemistry in that handshake?????
superego and ego: shut-up id!!!!!
cue laugh-track from audience. roll credits. next month, on as the flirt turns, an unmarried man.
well, it amused me. now on to the shower.

He will take care of you.

i'm attempting, theoretically, to update this every day. i'm also watching in plain sight, which show i adore. there's a snoring dog passed out next to me, a wakeful bubs a few feet away playing on his mac, and a slightly confused mom turning off her solitaire. life is good, thank and praise God for all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

there's a certain pleasure to lazy evenings, to the time between late enough for bed, and too early for mom to be worrying about not sleeping. at times she plays solitaire late into the night, while bubs and i pursue our own devices, and the dog dozes, nights like tonight where the temperature is right and the mood somewhat calm..... for these times i'm grateful when i'm wise, and i take into account, at least in some small part, the blessings that i have.

God knows what's right even when we don't, and i thank and praise Him that He gives us both what we need and some of what we want, that He guides us and watches us and protects us and is all and everything for us. God is amazing. let's just leave it at that for now.

baby you can drive my car

God has been awesome, thank and praise Him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i am apparently not going to get in trouble with the office of the aging at this time. This is a huge blessing. we had, again, a worker at our home last week apparently. This is the third time, and i was worried, not because i feel as if i'm a terrible abuser, but because i fear the repercussions of a negative investigation, or any investigation at all. i worried about my social work license, and my educational certificate, and my career in both. i worried about them trying to force mom into a home. the lady, however, ascribed her visit to its true cause. my neighbors are nosy. they refer me, she has to investigate, but she once again found nothing of import.

praise God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

earlier today we had a moment. it was wonderful. occasionally, when i'm thinking straight, not being selfish, and not being lazy, i realize that part of what mom really craves is activity, and companionship. rather than complaining that she won't allow me to clean, if i take the time to find ways for her to help me clean, sometimes so much can be done. twice i've experienced this recently, and both times were wonderful. tonight it was mowing the lawn (i consider the hand mower i bought last year to be one of the best purchases of the year). she took over the mowing, able to do so safely by the motorless nature of my newish machine. i worked on clearing the garden. she was so happy. my erstwhile young cousin questioned me on this decision, asking if it was too heavy for her. i explained to her that the elderly don't like to sit around all day doing nothing. i hope i can remember this more often.

praise God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

thank and praise God for all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Crap. Can't blog now; life is eating me. :). (Speaking of eating, my mouth hurts. i get an inordinately large number of mouth sores; currently two active and one or two developing. Arrgh.)

Sunday, Sunday.....

Except it isn't. i'm stealing a few minutes to write this, having borrowed bub's computer to finish my newspaper articles, and, thank and praise God (for all)!!!!!, having finished them and submitted them early. It's been a hectic week, but a productive one overall. Monday was work, and then work at night, covering an unexpected (and blessedly uneventful) three hour public budget hearing on a local district facing a million dollar budget deficit.

Tuesday was work, and some goofing off, then cleaning the kitchen, showering, and beginning to write up Monday's meeting (there were around 7 pages of notes).

A note on the cleaning. See, lately i've been feeling off. Okay, maybe more than off. Sunday night i cried to v (or rather narrowly avoided crying to her) because, on top of everything else, e. has finally moved on and begun dating someone new. The reasons why this made me cry would make another post, one perhaps long enough that i shouldn't get into it whilst slipping this post in on a borrowed computer. For now, though, i'm discussing my week.

Tuesday night God gave me a real gift. i'm attacking the kitchen (a miasma of mold and cat poop which had not been attacked in longer than i care to admit), and moody. God used the work, though, and the music i listened to, to touch me and refresh me in a way it might be hard to describe. Belting out songs that i love but hadn't perhaps heard in a while, songs of praise and God's assistance, or songs of a secular sort, surrounding woman's power and sticking it to men- it did me so much good. The article could then be begun. God really does sometimes hide blessings in things you don't realize. He really does help us out! Thank and praise Him! (again)! So wednesday was work, mash (my relaxation formula), a walk, work on the long article, attendance at my favorite short township meeting (usually lasts a half an hour or so, and is right down the road), and finishing writing the long article, watching in plain sight, and editing the long article. Today was work, picking up the police report, taking mom for ice cream (okay so we've done that a lot this week, the list isn't exhaustive of ways i goof off :O) ), walking the dog, watching a show with bubs, and the writing up of the short meeting and completion of editing and combining the long article. Then submission which feels great. then blogging, also great. now, however, my conscience is getting to me, so i'll offer bubs back his computer. miss you.

He will be there for you.......

Today was a good day, thank God!!!!! and praise God!!!!!

i had it off work. mom and i did 7 loads of laundry, the weather was beautiful, the bathroom was cleaned, some seeds were planted, new flags were hung, we went for lunch, we got ice cream, an article got written, and church was attended.

The Good Friday service at church was a stations of the cross. i'm reminded of bosnia, and that amazing hill where the devoted women would walk barefoot over uneven mud slicked rocks. That may be the last time i did the stations of the cross.

Thank You God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

if not tonight, the clothes may be hung up tomorrow

So i'm tired, but i feel like i really ought to chronicle the events of last night. i could have done so last night, but by the time i finally stopped shaking and was able to lie down again, i hadn't the motivation.

i, well, i basically broke last night. It was progressive, really. mom has not wanted mary coming. This isn't a normal sort of, "i don't want her coming," this is an ongoing, persistent litany, a follow you around the house swearing, and begging, and crying chorus, a must have an answer and must have it now decree, a you hate me you terrible person indictment. It is, to say the least, wearing on a person. Couple that with bubs' depression (borderline suicidal) and general angst, and you can get an inkling of our family situation.

So yesterday i arrived home, and as soon as mary walked out the door mom told me she didn't want her. i was supposed to drive k to a town roughly forty minutes away to buy a purse (because i have no backbone), i know bubs has been cruel to mom lately when she drives him crazy (and thus don't want to leave them alone to make the trip) and it has been snowing. i ask k not to have us go, but she insists we have to, and makes me feel guilty. Actually she snaps at me, that i am a terrible person. i think she knows that this will get to me, and next thing i know i am driving her, trying no to cry, to buy the purse, worrying about bubs and mom at home. Just before i leave the house, bubs tells me he wanted to go down the road, but k. is more important. So i'm torn between guilt and guilt, with two people making me feel bad for not going out of the way to help them, and i'm just doormat enough to be torn.

The trip itself is not bad. Thank God!!!!!!!!! (for all!!!!!!!!!) that the weather is not so bad outside of our area, and we arrive back home quite early. mom wants to go out as soon as we get home (of course) so i take her to the store. It is after this that everything falls apart.

Let me back this up and state that from the morning's incident of begging, i had already driven to work crying and praying. So my emotional state was not very stable to begin with.

i shower, and go to make myself dinner. mom decides at this point that the dirt has got to be cleaned out of the dining room, right now. i start to help her, and ought to have continued, but she keeps finding new places, and i know this will happen. i start screaming at her, and begging her to stop around this point.

i went into the kitchen and reverted to an old stress relief habit. This, i suppose, ought to have been warning sign number one. i won't get into what the habit itself is, though v and xh could guess.

i am into the kitchen, and she follows me. i had started the washing machine, and made myself a sandwich. Even though i asked her not to, she opens the washing machine, and i am not certain that the spray did not get in my sandwich. Something snaps, and i throw the sandwich on the floor and start screaming, in that manner which starts as a yell but devolves into a wordless shriek of frustration. i then have to grab the bread off the floor, before she tries to eat it.

i get her upstairs to watch tv, but she won't stop the litany, won't stop the begging, the swearing, the blame. Anyone reading this may think me a bad person. Probably, i am. Until, however, you've experienced someone following you from room to room swearing at you, repeating the same thing over and over, off and on for days on end, until you've experienced being caught between someone who is depressed and needs to be bolstered, who has a hair trigger for anger, and someone who cannot help but be annoying, you don't realize how draining it can be. Still, i ought to handle it better. With more faith, i know i would. Lord, help me and give me more faith, please?

i came back downstairs after giving her her medicine, and shortly thereafter she follows me back down. It is now probably after ten o'clock, and i ask her to please allow me to go to bed. She continues to beg me to call mary and cancel, to let her call, to please call, to cancel and call. At a certain point i sit up and start to punch the windowsill. This isn't entirely unheard of, i have taken to occasionally punching walls, and even have prided myself in the fact that i have managed to make at least one dent. (If you're going to end up with sore knuckles, you at least want something to show for it.) This night it was the windowsill, and as she continued to go, i began to laugh, to cry.

This then went into probably the worst panic attack i have had since passing out in albania. i couldn't breathe normally, and when i got that under control the shakes began. It was either gasping or shaking, in cycles, for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes straight, maybe more. It was bad enough that bubs asked if they were going to have to take me somewhere (presumably the hospital for the not being able to breath thing). mom calmed down enough to try to be helpful; bubs was helpful, but i had to keep trying to keep him from being cruel to mom, to force her upstairs.

In time i was able to lay down, to breathe, to stop shaking. mom went upstairs, though she came down twice more to get more medicine. (Fiber pill placebos are a gift of God.) This morning i awoke again to her begging me to call mary not to come. This was before seven.

Today has been a day of riding the emotional hangover. Thank God, though, that all has been good. The headache is gone, basically. i have sore enough knuckles to maybe keep me from punching things soon, but no serious damage. my arm smarts a bit, but nothing bad.

Best of all, bubs is on Easter break from school. mary wants to see her grandson, and has agreed not to come until Tuesday. It has been a much quieter night. Thank God for blessings!!!!!!!!!

and wait for their mothers.......

About an hour later i have a headache, my guilt complex is flaring up rather intensely, and i want to cry. It's time to find enough pills around that are harmless to convince mom she's taken enough to sleep (her tylenol pm is awol, and she's out of both her memory medicine and blood pressure medicine until tomorrow), find something to kill my headache (out of my tylenol too, which totally stinks), and go to bed.

Thank God!!!!!!!!! for a good day.

Thank God!!!!!!!!! it's over.

Lord, may we please have a good night, and good days to come!

sincerely,

-me.

it's not malaise

So far as i can tell, there are three followers of this blog, and i'm one of them. So there is probably little point, public wise, for even writing in it. Still, it's therapeutic, and i justify the excess of venting this way by means of the faithful reading of v. She reads, so i can still assume that i' m not only speaking to myself.

The word for how i feel tonight escapes me. It's not lethargy, not malaise, i'm not laconic, i'm not distraught. It's the low level lowness and lack of passion from the first three, without (thank the Lord!) the fervor of the last. i'm not happy, i'm not restful, i have the lack of desire to accomplish great things accompanied with the guilt that i'm not.

Then again, guilt is, and always has been, one of my closest friends.

Life here has been continuing. Thank God for all! It's really been going well lately. i like my new job; more importantly, they like me. The pay isn't amazing, but the people are friendly- it's a single mom's dream job.

So why am i thinking of quitting?

Now, Lord forgive me, i felt so strongly called to this job, and now i'm wondering if i ought to be leaving. It boils down to mom, and m., her caregiver. m. needs to go, apparently. A little over a week ago i asked the proprietor of a local restaurant where they eat how she treats mom when they're there. After demurring some, she told me that if i could, i should replace her.

Add this to the reports from others of impatience, her own mumblings to bubs about "how bad she is", and the fact that she tattles to me like a child when mom does things like refusing to go to lunch- "she said you told her she didn't have to"- and it's time for a replacement. (By the way, mom doesn't have to go to lunch. Why is this such a problem again????? Couldn't you bring your lunch?) Recently she told me that mom refused to go to lunch with her, so she went to get some, and she told mom to stay home. She was gone only about twenty minutes, and when she came back mom was walking across the park, and she didn't know where she had gone. She told her to stay put, and seemed to be complaining to me that it was mom's fault for not listening to her. Hello, you do realize you are being paid to watch over a woman with dementia, right? She probably forgot you told her to stay home five minutes after you left the house. This isn't even getting into my displeasure at this habit of leaving mom alone. She still counts those hours as paid time. i don't get paid for my lunch break.

So back to quitting my job. mom hates having mary come. Often she begins stating this fact right after mary leaves, begs me not to let her come before bed, and wakes up early in the morning to continue her pleas. She follows me around in the morning, swearing, crying, threatening, beseeching me to let her stay home alone.

i don't feel i can do this.

i worry, however, that she would behave similarly for anyone coming. It seems unlikely, as well, that she'll agree to ride with someone else to a day treatment center. At times i wonder if the best solution might not be for me to try to work from home, save the money for a caregiver, and just look after her myself. A few days a week i could drive her to the day treatment center myself, and work at the library or something. Flexibility. Lack of job security. Knowledge that she wasn't being mistreated while i was away. Knowledge that i was further putting off any sort of traditional steady career. Do i really care?

So it's time for prayer. and research. and prayer. and petition that God wouldn't be upset if i choose wrong. and gratitude that no matter what happens, He will still love us.

There's a freelance writer and editor site, which i think i'll peruse. i'll probably apply at one or two online universities, just to explore. Sometimes i think this all would be so much easier if i had a helpmate. i try to remind myself, often, though, that i don't need one. God is all i need, like the 10th avenue north song i love so much.

"Why are you looking, for love? Why are you still searching, as if I'm not enough?"

Thank You, Lord!!!!!!!!!, that You are enough!!!!!!!!! Forgive me for forgetting it!!!!!

okay, i feel a bit better now, for getting it off my chest. Thanks, v., for reading.

God is good, life is hard, don't get the two confused.

There's a certain degree of loneliness that comes of being a caregiver. It becomes a strain on friendships. Only true friends really want to hear the answer to the question, "how is your mom", when the answer is a long and technical litany of doctor's visits and medical symptoms. Even those who are interested in jumping through that hoop, may become frustrated when every phone call is interrupted multiple times by interjections to someone else. Then there are the problems with making social plans: the ability to only schedule activities when proper arrangements can be made, or when she can come along, the alteration of plans to accommodate this, the tendency to change or cancel plans at the last minute when it is a bad day, and the need to make outings short and ending prior to medicine time can all lead to an unwillingness to make plans at all. Some friends don't want to visit my house. Things were fine when i could visit theirs all the time, but the situation simply cannot be reversed. i find myself staying home much of the time, not necessarily by choice as people stop creating and following though with plans with me, and bonding with mothers, who might understand these factors. i find myself wondering where my friends went, and why they seem less interested in seeing me. it hurts a bit. i find myself longing for a romantic interest again, and struggling to remember that God may one day find and send a man willing to accept all this, despite how impossible it may seem now.

you have superficial relationships, and maybe some closer relationships. and, in my case, i have some very close ones as well, but many of them are far away.

i remember, however, that God is there. He has never left me, and He won't. He is alright with my life, and my plans, and is always interested in the details. He is always interested in spending time with me, and in hearing my voice. He will always help me out. He will always be my rock and comfort. He will always love me. He is all. He is all i need. And maybe, just maybe, He will fulfill my earthly desires for human companionship as well.

and sometimes, especially at night, when i see her sleeping in bed, and she looks at me, and thanks me, and tells me how much she loves me, i realize once again how incredibly worth it all of it, including the loneliness, is.

Thank You God for all!!!!!!! Please, Father, help us with all!!!!!!!!!!

i used to be afraid

At one point i might have said, were i really being honest, that i was afraid of being happy. The problem with being happy, is that you fear it will end. Now this isn't necessarily true anymore, and i can say that i thank God that i now have the underlying joy and peace which God offers, and which nothing can unseat, (though even now as i write that i pray that this won't be tested, and now something won't happen which will test and shake that certainty). The point of this, is that i remembered that yesterday as i thought upon the two "everything's lovely" posts i just wrote, and then things fell (mildly apart).

The morning, yesterday, was wonderful. We were babysitting the young daughter of a friend, we shoveled snow and had snow ball fights, we ran errands and sang Taylor Swift songs, it was great.

Suddenly, however, it all fell apart. We stopped at the liquor store, so bubs could get enough alcohol to get him through his birthday weekend. i tried telling him to only buy one case, that 24 bottles really were enough to get him through a weekend. Suddenly he freaked out and drove away, yelling at me for being judgmental, for making snide comments, etc., and drove off. He was in a bad mood then, when we got home. The little girl ran to play solitaire, unused to us yelling at each other. Bud, the dog, appeared to have a bloody spot on his face. i was trying to look at it, and asking bubs to check it out. Bud wouldn't approach him, however, because he could tell how angry and upset he was. So after trying to make him, i tried to check it out again myself, and he attacked me.

Only one other time in my life would i say i've been truly attacked, by someone truly trying to hurt me. That was a friend's boyfriend at the time, beating me with a suitcase. This was the second, though it could be argued that he was only warning me and not really trying to hurt me. Were he really trying to hurt me, he likely would have/could have gone through the sweatshirt and sweater i was wearing. As it was, the only physical reminder i have of the incident is two light puncture marks on my side. They are only bruises, really, he barely broke the skin. Bubs and i yelled him into submission, and into the kitchen, and he's been fine with me since. i'm still a little bit nervous though.

Things again began to go well. i got a lot done on our "office", the area upstairs that i have cleaned out and decided to make my study. Currently, i do not have a bedroom, so while the house is "mine", there isn't really a space that truly is. This study, it is planned, will be my haven, (though it's convenient location right outside of mom's room will both help and hinder this.) i picked up the police report (strange because they were processing a criminal while i was there, and i had to leave so he could be pee tested), made it home safely (the roads became covered again), and went to the library for a novel (cheesy Christian romance, how i love you.)

We then went to the pizza store, where i not only got my favorite eggplant parmesan sandwich, but another flirt session with the pizza guy. However, i chickened out of buying 2 six packs for bubs, having offered to buy it there instead of the beer distributor. When i only came out with 1, and he no longer then had the money to stop at the distributor, he was again angry with me.

Now people wonder why i'm so apologetic. i know why, at least i have a running theory. i want to make people happy. i am an inveterate people pleaser, at my core. This doesn't mean i'm always unselfish. Sometimes, i admit, i'm terribly selfish; sometimes i'm unselfish but resent it. These are things i need to work on, character flaws which must be rectified. What it does mean, however, is that when someone yells at me, or gets upset, and tells me that i'm at fault, i feel terrible. i take it upon myself, and try to find a way to please the other person, to rectify the situation. i internalize what people say. This can be more problematic in situations where, as with bubs, the other person lashes out frequently, but doesn't necessarily mean for it to torture me.

Unfortunately, also, some people realize this and begin to use it against me. Again, this is at least partially my fault- if you always act like a doormat, people who would not normally have done so will often eventually begin to treat you as such. The relationship just becomes warped. Actually, my college friends were the first friends i'd had in years for whom this didn't apply. That, whether or not these friends realize it, is probably why my family loved them so much my first year. They never treated me abusively, never made everything my fault, never spiked my drinks, etc.

This is part of why i'm so careful with romantic relationships as well. Though at least one of my friends denies this, i know, when i'm truly being honest, that i have the makings of an abused woman. Once i give someone power over me, they have that power, and they can wield it. i've seen it before, a narrow escape i made in my younger days. It all hearkens back to a run with my sister where she told me i was a human doormat and i would be an abused woman. i decided then that i would not be, and have worked against this since. My way of dealing with it through the years has been to toughen up, perhaps too much, and to be careful, perhaps excessively careful, about who i give any real power over me.

Okay, it's bubs' birthday, not a happy event in his mind, and mom is impatient. Life calls, the garbage must be paid, my cell-phone must be paid, mom must be fed, Mary must be paid, and mom's meds are due. It is time to get off a blog and move on.

Goal for the weekend: not to punch any more holes in the walls. That confession, however, must wait for a later post.

spread a little joy today,

Today we had no work, due to what they are calling a "snow-i-cane". It's just your average, run of the mill storm actually, big enough to cancel work for a day or two, not enough to cause people to talk about it for years (like the blizzard of ninety three). We are used to getting one or two a year, and this year, so historic due to the amount of snow everyone else has been getting, has been notable for us by the lack of such storms before this point.

During the blizzard of '93 i was at district band. i remember it clearly, partially because it effected the band festival and i ended up spending a night at home with my host family (we watched the olympics) that wasn't scheduled. i also remember it clearly because daddy came to the concert. he broke the law doing it, as the governor had closed the roads. It made me feel so proud, and so loved, that he would break the law for me.

K-love, one of my two favorite radio stations, has been talking about the five love languages all week. As i suspected, when i took the test my primary love language was service. Out of a possible 12, i scored a 2 on physical affection. That wasn't a terrible surprise either.

It does make me think about mom too. i think her love language might be quality time. She's always asking me to spend time with her, and sometimes she almost breaks my heart, asking me late at night or in the morning if i will stay home and take care of her.

This strikes me as a somewhat boring blog post. That's okay with me. Lord willing, things will stay good. Please Lord, please?

a sleepy blizzardy night.....

i'm sitting up awake, (a general state to be in sitting up, though, in truth, i'm not really even sitting) on a pre-snowy night. bubs is snoring, mom (i hope) is sleeping, i'm using a computer (see the part about bubs being asleep), and the golden girls is playing in the background. Thank and praise God, He is awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!

There's a chance we won't have work tomorrow. God has truly provided for me at work!!!!! It's nice to know that, if the weather is truly bad, we won't have to risk our safety. It's supposed to be a foot or more of snow through tomorrow.

i'm sleepy. it truly makes me happy to try and write here, and realize how very content i am, thank God! and praise God!

God is good!!!!!!!!!!

When diapers replace discos

My life has changed. i spend most of my time at work, or at home with the family. my social life lingers on the side of non-existance; i was discussing this with a college friend last night. sometimes i get paranoid that the friends i used to hang out with don't want to hang out with me anymore, paranoid that they don't like me. With some of them this may be the problem. Others may be unwilling to adjust to the changes in my life- to the fact that you can't invite me places spur of the moment unless you're okay with mom coming, or the fact that i may have to cancel on you if something happens. Part of it is probably the fact that i used to drive places to see people, and many aren't willing to hang out here. Is this what motherhood does to your social lives, mothers? my love life has basically gone the way of my social life. The one guy who used to ask me out regularly, the closest thing i've had to a relationship for the past five or so years (okay, ever), appears to have tacitly lost interest. To be honest, i can't blame him, given our history (mostly my fault). Since then the only men who've asked me out have done so at the prompting of mom's "find my daughter a man" spiels. "Hmmm, that girl is pretty and apparently desperate, let's give it a go" is, while flattering, not how i want to find romance. If i even had the energy for romance, or the time, or thought the average man would be interested in what i have to offer. "Hi. i'm a terribly difficult to date woman who is the primary caregiver for a mother with dementia. Oh, did i mention that my brother is clinically depressed, and so i occasionally have to worry about doing my best to help him stay together? i work two jobs, neither of which pays much money, and hold three leadership roles in the church. i will place my mom and brother's needs before our relationship, just to warn you. It can be hard to carve out time to spend with me. my house is falling apart, and i'm a terrible housekeeper. Want to go on a date now?" Yeah, the way i see it, i'm just gonna have to wait and see if God has a man for me. Most of the time, i don't even want to expend the emotional energy to even look. However, i do give myself the pleasure of flirting with pizza guy once a week. It's come to be something i look forward to, a completely meaningless sort of light flirtation with a guy i'm fairly certain i wouldn't actually be interested in, not even really my type. he has tattoos all up his arms, long curly hair and gauged ears. i fancy that he uses me for the same thing i use him for- a bright spot of merriment amidst the drudgery. It's the sort of thing that would be utterly ruined were he to ever actually ask me out. It's just nice, especially on a cleaning saturday when my outfit consists of jeans and a sweatshirt, and my day has consisted of traipsing through mouse turd and scrubbing the toilet, to realize that i still might be worth flirting with. Pizza guy doesn't know that i'm a caregiver, that my house is falling apart, or anything else. To him, in my mind, i really could be the young, alternative 30 year old who used to live overseas and edges toward being a hippie, a social activist free on a saturday night, a blank slate of possibilities before her, who would be fun to spontaneously invite for a coffee . Not that i would trade my current life to reclaim this girl, please don't get me wrong. i love my life now as it is, and contrary to well-meaning busybodies i am happy with the path i have chosen. Still, sometimes, i like to pretend that i'm still her. This is the real reason i look forward to pizza night. Can any of you understand this? It's probably much the way a new mother feels, when diapers replace discos. Well mick needs his computer back soon. mom broke ours. so i'm going to go. There's a movie i've rented which i think i'll try to get her to watch with me so i don't waste the money we spent renting it. There's dinner to be gotten together, and meds to dispense, and then, before i go to sleep, i should pray that i can sleep through the night. That's a whole other story- mom's recent medical needs, and the pain which frequently awakens her (and me). Last night it was 2:30 to 4:00 am, approximately. Still, lying beside her praying that she could fall asleep again, and that i could too, was one of those moments when i realized how much i loved her. Funny, huh.

it's been a while

It's been an up and down sort of day, but i finally have access to a computer/the motivation (probably briefly) to post, so here we go. Do me a favor though, okay? If you actually read this post, will you comment on it, so i know that there is a purpose in writing it at all?

So much has happened since the last time i updated. i have a new job (Lord willing), mom's had tons of health issues, bubs' has had some issues but is doing well in school. Life goes on. Throughout the day today i plotted the posts i would make- one devoted entirely to feces, one devoted to my journey through the phases of me today (spurred by the discovery of college totes), perhaps even a post on the effects/effectiveness of punching holes in walls. (Thank God i've yet to break anything.) i think tonight, however, i'm just going to log off here. bubs is drunk again, and in a hate everything mood, i'm tired, and i have to mentally/emotionally prepare myself for dealing with the infuriating pretend pastor who preaches from our pulpit each week now. That in and of itself would/could be an entire post.

Okay, to bed with me now, i've developed this new trend where, since i spend saturday in cleaning clothes, i want to get dolled up in something edgy for church, (i don't want to say sexy, as that does not seem good with church.

annoyance

Mom does not deal with waiting well. She is wandering around, and has been for the last half an hour or so that i've been on the computer. Meanwhile, bubs is talking (loudly) with his friend jeremy about the different sorts of alcohol, and my nerves feel strained to a near breaking point. my friend (aka best friend from home) turns thirty tonight, and as much as i don't want to drive 20 minutes away to see her (when with my windshield currently i have trouble seeing anything at night and was just reveling in my lack of need to drive far at night tonight) i ought to help her celebrate. i'd asked bubs to take me. he declined. he can't, you understand, loudly discuss beer while he's driving.

okay, mom is not going to stop until i give up and give her the computer for solitaire.

i wish you well, i wish you well.......

This weekend (well pre-weekend really), xh., m. her husband, and r. came to visit. They came because, in the past, i have come to philadelphia to celebrate the new year with them, and this year i felt my home life precluded this. (mom is walking to the bank, please hold while i watch to ensure she makes it across safely.) So they came to see me. It was really a blessing, though, as always, nothing turned out so simply as planned.

mom refused to come with us. i was so embarassed, and felt so guilty. bubs has been caught, again, in a quagmire of depression. This is one of the deeper bouts- he lay in bed yesterday, too despondent to get up, and told me with sincere pain in his voice that nothing would help. i know what would help- God can, but he claims he's tried and God isn't answering. i don't know why God is putting him through this, but i know He has a plan, and i pray that the plan leads to good in bubs' life. People don't seem to realize how bad things are for him. our middle sister says he's not truly depressed, and expects him to jump out of it. she thinks i'm enabling him. i live with him though, i see the sadness. Last night he asked if i'd be upset if he shot himself. i don't think he was entirely serious, but it's still a scary question. At any rate, when mom didn't come with us, bubs agreed to stay home with her. i felt so badly that he was missing his party, and that these people had traveled so far because i needed to be with mom, only to discover that i could leave her at home after all. They had the good grace not to appear upset.

r. doesn't seem to get my life situation. he kept asking me why i didn't just spend the night with them, why i didn't go back to philadelphia with them, ribbing me about never coming and visiting. Perhaps i worry too much, perhaps my worries are unfounded, perhaps (i wonder this sometimes) my family would do better without me sometimes if i didn't put so much effort into holding things together. This morning, however, mick and mom had a screaming match over the toilet. They can be so cruel to each other. She can't help her behavior sometimes, and he really can't deal with it right now. Things escalate until he's hitting walls, and she's threatening to call the cops, and maybe hitting him. So am i really overworrying things, and i making things worse by being the mediator instead of forcing them to deal with each other, or am i holding together a situation which, without me, may be quite bad. i told xh. that maybe after mickey calmed down, i would go down there again. Then again, Lord willing, he'll be in an apartment by then. So we both agreed that i probably wouldn't. It's like having to care for a child, except not, because you can force a child to come visiting with you.

The visit itself was great. we fenced with balloon swords, saw a madrigal choir, saw the movie avatar, watched a juggler, walked snowy streets with mom, built a giant snowman. i only freaked out a few times, once afraid to drive home from the movies, which i again felt very guilty about. it was good though. and i considered, on the drive home (having made bubs come get me, a blessing due to the snowy roads actually, so thank God for freak outs), how this way there was no jump into cold water. In the past, when i left for carefree weekends at friends' houses, walking home was a bit of a shock. Don't get me wrong, i love my life, but to go from being a young relatively carefree thirty year old jaunting with friends, back to being a young, relatively carefree thirty year old with a mother, a household, two jobs, a brother, two cats, and a dog for whom she feels at least partially responsible, is a bit like diving into the deep section of a pool on a warm day after an hour's sunbathing. Sure, the warmth of the sun was worth it. The swimming will be worth it too, once the shock wears off. That shock, however, is mildly distressing. This way i never left my life, though i got to dance in the sun, i kept one toe in the water while floating on my raft. The shock, then wasn't so extreme, if it was even there.

Speaking of responsabilities, they are calling now. Though i've been up since nine, i have yet to give mom or buddy their morning medicine. Today i ought to clean, do laundry (start the stove so it dries), get mom's medicine and mine (probably get breakfast while we're in hallstead), and try to do stuff with bubs to help him shake his lethargy. Tonight i have my cousin's wedding. Lord willing i'll get there with no problems, and get mom there as well. Getting both of us ready can be a bit of a chore sometimes, and i always pray that me and driving will go well together.

i hope, Lord willing, to maybe stop by the Christian bookstore on the way to the wedding. i have $10 from my aunt, and i want to buy a Christian historical or military fiction with it. bubs once commented on my reading. i told him we each had our maladaptive coping mechanisms.- he his alcohol, and me my escapist fiction. i pride myself on mine being less destructive, though i still pray God will pardon something i perhaps spend too much time, money, and energy on.

okay, mom's getting pleasantly impatient (asking me questions ever minute or so, as opposed to swearing and crying and fidgeting). i'd best go. remind me to tell you my most recent thoughts on love later, however.