Part 3 of serially lost challenge

Lately I’ve really been really concentrating on the conversations my husband and I have. We always end up laughing or shaking our heads smiling. WARNING!!!! Laughing and smiling can be contagious in a grocery store.

I felt happiness today. The phone rang and it was my husband telling me he was coming home early. I could only describe my feelings as joyful. Not to shabby for someone with a diagnosis of Major Depressive Disorder.

The not so good part, I had to pick him up at the Chevy dealer who just fixed my SUV. His car needed some tender loving care. Like mine just got.

So, maybe my car broke down when it did so it would be well enough to transport my husband to work because his car broke down. And because my car broke down, I met some wonderful people and because I met these wonderful people, I am convinced that it is time to say goodbye. Good bye to Parker, my 10-year-old SUV.

I think this post just turned into the third of my Loss/ Found / Lost and Found serial challenge for writing 101. First Major Loss as an adult human is Part 1. Third Time’s the Charm. I never did finish that assignment.

So, I look toward a future loss. The loss of a good friend. It is time to say goodbye to Parker. We traveled 102,338 miles together.  The time has come for her to sit on a lonely used car lot or a make a quick trip to the junk yard. She needs more help than I am willing to give.

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when we cleaned her out, we found Parker ate 2 lighters, 3 umbrellas, and a boatload of pennies. funny, I have never purchased an umbrella

Parker was a tease. She truly had it all. Power everything. Including seat adjustment. Which when a certain button was pushed would warm your little behind. Meeting Parker was not planned. Her predecessor got hit by a tree and passed young. This was the day I truly understood the phrase “car wrapped around a tree.” I want to talk about my experience with black cars versus my experience with white cars. But I don’t know how to do it without making someone angry. I know, I’ll talk about red cars instead.

I wish I could leave color out of this, but it is important. Everyone has heard, “Oh No don’t get a red car, they are cop magnets.” My husband and I both experienced red cars and we came to the same conclusion. A high rate of speed is a better cop magnet than the color of the car.

To me loss has always meant change. I have never done well with change, therefore it makes sense that I would do poorly with loss. Acceptance is the key for me. Funny how I can make that sound so simple. I don’t just accept change, I fight it tooth and nail.

I need to be reminded that there are some things I have no control over. I need to remind myself that I do have a choice. Fight a losing battle or take a moment and relax. Think about whether there is anything I can do. Look at all options. After taking a bit of time to relax, I am able to see things clearer.

Maybe this change will not be as bad as I think it will be. It might even end up being a good thing. I won’t know until the loss and change actually happens. Now that I think about it, accepting change is a lot more pleasant than fighting it. The more practice I get at it, the better I will be at it.

102,338 miles versus 16 miles

102,338 miles versus 16 miles. you choose

So this story was supposed to be about some of the very odd conversations I have with my husband.  Ah yup, that was the plan. Things don’t always turn out the way I expect.  Sometimes they turn out better. So we are off. Off to look at a Grape Ice colored car. Definitely not the one I want, but most likely the one I need.

I managed to find humor in this whole life thing after all. The first call we got after trading in Parker was from the salesman who just sold us Ice Ice Fanta, “Have you had any trouble starting the Equinox with this key?”

“Ah nope.  Not since we just put $501.15 into her for a new starter an oil change.

I’d call this new car purchase very, very good timing.

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Day 20 – I treasure Awareness, and Family, and dogs, and the ability to pee by myself, etc.

I might or might not know what happened.confused-on-the-computer

I may have accidently hit publish when I 1st started writing this story way back when. That may explain why it says it was published on January 20th, when I published today. It became my First post???? Not my last of writing 101.

With a lot of work I was able to get it to fit with the last assignment.  All I know is that I finished it today. and published it today.

life as seen by me

Day Twenty: The Things We Treasure Today’s Prompt: Tell us the story of your most-prized possession. Today’s twist: We extolled the virtues of brevity back on day five, but now, let’s jump to the other side of the spectrum and turn to longform writing. Let’s celebrate the drawn-out, slowly cooked, wide-shot narrative. Good luck to all who read the whole thing and I promise never to write this much again!!!! 4189 words

It all started innocently enough.  I first noticed I couldn’t feel my fingers. As things progressed and I told my story over and over again I realized it actually started weeks before.

I couldn’t feel the cigarette smoke go into my lungs.  I remember telling Jax, “I can’t suck. I suck at sucking.”  I was also eating a lot of Tootsie rolls.  Every time I generated some Tootsie roll flavored saliva I would cough, sputter, choke almost.  I blamed these…

View original post 3,854 more words

Day 19 – You are all in trouble Now

Day Nineteen: Don’t Stop the Rockin’

Today is a free writing day. Write at least four-hundred words, and once you start typing, don’t stop. No self-editing, no trash-talking, and no second guessing: just go. Bonus points if you tackle an idea you’ve been playing with but think is too silly to post about.

I guess I will start at the beginning.  Rumi.  He has been coming up in my life a lot recently.  I should figure out who the heck he is first, then figure out what he has to say.  I do like this quote….

“Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”Rumi

This one is pretty good as well….

“Either give me more wine or leave me alone.”Rumi

For someone who lived in the 13th century a lot of his stuff makes sense today. Especially the wine one.

Okay enough of that crap.  I am not looking for extra credit by tackling something I have been working on that is “too silly” Everything about me is silly in one way or another.  I have been working on a couple of things that I hope to finish one day.  I’ve been working so hard on Writing101 that I have been neglecting my Blog. LMAO!!!! or at least what I thought was going to be my blog.

I have a few unfinished master pieces.  I think I may have my first installment of an angel series I want to try out.  Writing about angels was not part of the plan when I started this blog.  Life happens and things change.

Cool 250 words.  Almost done LOL

Relationships are not one of my areas of expertise, yet I wicked want to write about them.  I have experimented with writing about online relationship a bit, but I want to write about other relationships as well.  Mother/daughter and husband and wife come to mind.  Relationships with my beagle could be entertaining.  But if you have never owned a beagle, you might not understand.  Even after I explain it.

83 more words and I am done.  I know that because in 4th grade I was taught about reciprocals. I bet they don’t even teach that math method today.  I remember every day we would get the same quiz.  Get a 100% on the quiz and no more quizzes.  You got early recess instead.  I had trouble getting that 100%.  Did I mention it was timed? I knew my reciprocals I just didn’t  them fast enough.  Until one day my teacher watched me.  I would go down one column, up the next, down again, and up the last.  The teacher suggested I go only down.  Top to Bottom. Wouldn’t you know it the next time I took the quiz I got 100%.  You’d think I would have learned the life lesson of “taking suggestions” back then.  NOPE took me another 35 years for that lesson to sink in.

Uh Oh 461 words.  I know it said “at least” 400 words.  I have no problem with that.  I need help knowing when I am done. That 461 which is now 492 can easily morph into 1004.  I wicked like the word “Morph” right now.  I seem to be getting a lot of use out of it.  516 is a pretty good number too.  But now that I said that the count has gone higher.  See that it just went up again.

THE END (568)

569 since I edited it on July 4th 2015 ________Take that OCD!!!!

DAMN 579 Now…ummmm 580 +2

HaHa it worked. Damn 586

Day 18 = Mama Joe’s story

Day Eighteen: Hone Your Point of View Today’s prompt: write this story in first person, told by the twelve-year-old sitting on the stoop across the street. Today’s twist: For those of you who want an extra challenge, think about more than simply writing in first-person point of view — build this twelve-year-old as a character. Reveal at least one personality quirk, for example, either through spoken dialogue or inner monologue.

The neighbourhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, have come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.

Mom and dad were at it again last night.  They call it discussing.  Sounds like fighting to me. This time it was about Mama Joe. I’m on Mom’s side.  I think we should help Mama Joe.  Mama Joe has always been there for us.  Me and every other kid in this neighborhood.

I’ve felt sad before but this is different.  It is more than just being sad.  Mama Joe is being forced out and they need cops to help do it.  She’s like a hundred and two.  Do they really need cops?  There is something wrong with this situation.  I’m 12 and I can see the wrong ness in what is going on. Why can’t anyone else see it?

Mama Joe is this neighborhood.  She babysat my parents before they were my parents.  She watched me and every other kid around here.  She was always there.  When anyone needed anything, she was there.  Now she needs us and there is no one.

Mom and dad think I don’t know what is going on.  But I know.  I hear things.  I know more than they think I know.

Sitting here, boy my butt is getting sore.  I don’t want to leave.  I want to see what happens.   I want to see how they get this lady out of her house.  I have seen the letters sent to her.  I have read them.  That’s how Mom and dad know what is going on.  I told them.  If I hadn’t told them, they wouldn’t know crap.  If they didn’t know crap, they wouldn’t have been “discussing” her.

Do they really need the cops?  Everyone knows Mama Joe can be stubborn, but the cops.  Come on. Really?  I haven’t seen any sign of her kids.  I wonder if they even know this is happening.  Do they even care?  She probably hasn’t even mentioned it to them.

Mom is right.  Mama Joe should live with us.  We may not be able to help with her money stuff, but we do have that extra room.  I would love to have her to talk to all the time.  She has the best stories.  I have learned more about history from her than all my teachers combined.  She didn’t just read about it.  She lived it.  Listening to her makes me feel like I am there living it with her.

The cops have been in there a long time.  What could they be doing in there?  Doesn’t anyone else see something wrong with this?  Mama Joe has taken care of people her whole life.  Now when she needs help, no one is there.  I’m here.  But I am 12.  What can one 12-year-old do?

Hmmmm…. maybe….  Nah that would be bad.  I’d so love to slash the tires of the police car.  Maybe hit the landlord’s car as well.  Damn I wish I had thought of that when they first got here.  It’s probably too late now.  I’d never get away with it.  Plus I couldn’t disappoint Mama Joe like that.

The funny thing is I am supposed to be in school right now.  Nobody has noticed me sitting here.  If Mama Joe wasn’t so busy with her crap, she would notice.  She doesn’t miss a thing.  I am learning more here than I would in school anyway.  Here I am learning about life. I am learning that life truly sucks. It just isn’t fair.

Mama Joe always called me an old soul. She never did tell me what that meant. Well this old soul has no answers.

I wonder where that ambulance is going?  Most people on the street are at work or school.  Wicked bummer.  It is stopping across the street.  I had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well, but I did not expect this.  It can’t be that much of an emergency.  The ambulance dudes are moving pretty slow.  I hope Mama Joe is okay.  Maybe they aren’t even here for her.  Maybe she fought back.  Not that she could, but I’d like to think she did.  It has been too quiet for that.

I guess I’ll just keep my butt where it is.  At least until I know what is going on or someone notices that I am sitting here.  Only Mama Joe would notice.  Mama Joe is the only one who ever notices me.  I am going to miss that.  I am going to miss her.

Day 17 what do you fear?

Day Seventeen: Your Personality on the Page. Today’s Prompt: We all have anxieties, worries, and fears. What are you scared of? Address one of your worst fears. Today’s Twist: Write this post in a style distinct from your own

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haha No commas!!!!  I have been afraid of so many things for so long it is hard to pick just one.  But I will. I fear losing My Home

.

Right now.  I have My Home.

It is me.  My partner.  My beagle.

I have had other similar homes.  Some included my partner and beagle.

Others did not.

This is My Home.  I am content here.  It is peaceful.

Life can be hard.  I do it anyway.

It is quiet here.  I can hear me.  I can hear you.  I can hear my partner.

I do not always understand him.  I know this.  I listen anyway.

I can hear my beagle.

Today.

He has less to say.  He still talks.

I listen to it all and to nothing.  I hear the quiet.  The noise is gone.

I fear the noise will return.

I am vigilant.

I could easily lose my home if the noise returns.

My goal.

Listen.

Do not let the noise get loud.

Day 15 – Union versus Adminstration

“Day Fifteen: Your Voice Will Find You

Today’s Prompt: Think about an event you’ve attended and loved. Imagine you’re told it will be cancelled forever or taken over by an evil corporate force. Today’s twist: While writing this post, focus again on your own voice.

“OMG this wicked sounds like me.  It was so hard to misspell so many words, but it was the only way my voice would be heard.  I had no idear where to staht with this assignment, but I ended up having a lot of fun with it.”

I can’t believe this is happinin’. I can’t believe they are doin’ what they are doin’. It has been the same way forevah. Well, 50 years forevah anyway.

Workers in the other union, the powahs that be, and those not in a union want to change everything. “Make 1 big pahty for the whole institution,” they annonncd. WTF!!!! This pahty has always been R pahty. R time. R time to let loose. R time to not care. R time to not worry what others think. What moron from r local union let this happen? We are a union, don’t we get a vote?

R pahty was always the best. It had everyone from the facility undah grade 16 in attendance. That meant direct care, therapists, LPN’s, cooks, you name it. Everyone who had daily client contact, except the RN’s. The RN’s had their own union, so we snuck the ones we liked into r party.

R  Pahty!!!! I cannot stress this enough. It was Ow-wer pahty. We were always smaht about planning the pahty. It always took place at the same hotel. That way we could drink and drink and drink and not worry about gettin’ home. We just had to find the elevatah and we were in.

I will never forget the year my future husband attended the pahty, but nevah really attended the pahty.  He hadn’t planned on going, so he nevah bought a ticket. He was scheduled to work that night. He did not end up doing that.  Instead, he got a hotel room and spent the whole pahty time in it. He had more food in that room than I had at the pahty. I don’t remember how many people we had in the room that night, but it was a lot. At one point I swear we had more people in his room than the pahty had downstairs. This would not have worked if this was 1 big facility pahty. Oh no! It would have been wicked different. Sex in the hotel bathroom would not have been an option.

People will act different at a total facility pahty. Knowing the person at the next table could be watching and has the powah to make your life miserable does not make for a good time. This was always R time to let loose. We all had a very stressful work environment. We needed this pahty. We needed something that was just Rrrr’s.

I can’t believe the administraters convinced r so called leaders to allow every employee from work to come this year. They say it is so the whole place can feel like they are one. Well I say, Screw That!  Someone, somewhere, must be getting something for this to happen. Maybe Joe is getting a secret extra week of sick time. Maybe Sue is being blackmailed into allowing this. I don’t believe a single word being said. I’m sure money is involved somehow. It always is. I bet the admins offah to foot the bill of the whole pahty was a deciding facter.

At work we are one. Not that administration can see that. They see me as a peon. They think they are above me. That is all they see. But if it wasn’t for this peon and others like me, this facility would fail miserably. At work we need to work as a team. Outside of work we do not need to pahty as one. This pahty would relieve us of a years’ worth of stress in one night. Now the pahty itself is going to add stress. How can I discuss big ole Admin Barbara’s antics, with a member I haven’t seen in a year, if I don’t know if the man next to me is her husband or not?

This changes so much. Obviously the powahs that be, on r end were not thinking. I bet the administraters got jealous. Jealous because they heard the rumahs, they heard the talk. They heard how much fun we had. They want to be paht of R fun. By them being a paht of it, they take rrrr’s away .

I’d like to go this year’s pahty just to see. Just to see how many regulars really go. Just thinkin’ that has set my mind in motion. I say we plan 2 pahties. The one the administration is planning for us and the one we plan for rselves. There just might be time. I think I can organize it well enough. I know I can get a few people from the oth-ah buildings to keep quiet about it. Hmmmm???? Now that I think about it, they just might have the wrong people in chahge around heyah.

word on page 29

Day Fourteen: To Whom It May Concern

Today’s Prompt: Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What’s the first word that jumps off the page? Use this word as your springboard for inspiration Today’s twist: write the post in the form of a letter.

There are just so many different uses for the word.  It has had quite a history and I am sure a very fine future.  It has been used as titles of movies, a magazine, and music albums.  There is a whole series of books and many working in the crash test field.  The word that jumped out of me on page 29 was dummy.  I chuckled as I realized I could definitely work with that.  The definitions I am going to focus on is a stupid person; idiot; jackass; moron; and to keep silent; refuse to answer; as in ‘dummy up’.wpid-images-7-jpg

Hey dumbass,

haha I laugh at you today.  Did you really think you could get rid of me forever.  You know I may leave temporarily but I never go far.  You are a true idiot if you think that just because I have been gone so long this time that you start to think I could never return. I am here to remind you of me.  Remind you of what I can do.

What a moron you can be sometimes.  You were getting too smaht there for a while.  I had to change things up a bit. I came at you working with agitation and irritability this time. Wasn’t I the smaht one? Remember, I always return. I may look different sometimes, but I guarantee it is always me. 

I may have stayed away too long this time though. You had time to work on other things. Get better in other ways. Find more support. I am very powerful and will always be able to make you do what I want. I am sneaky and unrelenting.

Have as much fun as you can for now.  Because I am coming back.  I am coming back stronger than ever.

– See you soon – Your depressive brain

Hey Jack ass,

Guess what. The jokes on you. I see you coming.  Too much time has passed.  I had time to do things. Time to change things. The biggest thing I have done was become more aware.  So aware that I already see you messing around with my sleep.  You are trying to fool me by doing it slowly, but I am not fooled.  I can see it happening.  So guess what?  I did not dummy up this time.  When I saw you playing with my sleep this month, I got voice to talk about it.  I and other folk are aware of what you are trying to do. They all know.  They are all watching.  We have ways to make you lose control of sleep. When we sleep, you lose your power.  We are not letting you get so out of hand that you get strong this time.  We will stop you and stop you now. 

We are no longer the dummy you thought you had to work with.  I played it smaht. I learned new skills, tried new things, became more courageous, and voice worked with mouth to open up. We have the power to kick your dumbass.

Bring it on Depressive brain this is the new and improved, strong, mighty, healthy brain you are messing with this time.  And, I have control of voice. Boy, she has loved talking.  I almost forgot, we found hope too.  We found her and we are not letting go of her this time.

Part 1 Lost, Part 2 Found

On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. Today’s Prompt: write about finding something. Today’s twist: if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second installment — loosely defined.

mattiesun

Mattie dreamin’ of summer

I warned you about the beagle brothers. They entered my life under mysterious and almost mystical circumstances. For you to truly understand I need to briefly describe where I was working at the time. I worked in an institution for developmentally delayed adults.  Most spent their whole lives here and all were very medically involved.  Most had never seen a dog on TV never mind in real life.  This day I walked into work and thought I saw a beagle puppy walking down the hall.  My first thought was, “what the hell is wrong with me.  There is no way there could be a dog in here. That would be so against the rules.”

Seamustongue

Seamus finishing his leftovers

I had to investigate and found, to my relief, I was not hallucinating. There was a true, unheard of situation involving a beagle puppy at work. I had to know more.  I found out that the new beagle Mom, who was just visiting, got him from a breeder in NH. That is all I learned until out of the blue I mentioned the beagle sighting to a nurse I worked with. She just happened to have gone to high school with a man from NH who was a beagle breeder. This had Allie’s paws written all over it. I didn’t think it had been long enough since Allie’s passing. I thought I should wait longer before adding to my family. I took this unusual occurrence at work as a sign that it was time.  Maybe it was okay to get a new puppy.

mattielickit

Mattie Licking his chops. We told him no one would notice the cone.

I tracked down this NH beagle breeder. His beagles were field trial beagles and he did it for the love of the breed, not for the money. I had educated myself about puppy mills and he showed no signs of illegal mass breeding for money. He didn’t have any puppies old enough to adopt/that were ready to go.  He must have seen me coming a mile away, because he said he had one I might like. He had a puppy with a broken tail.  All I needed to hear was broken tail and I was in.  When I met the few puppies he had, one of them immediately came up to me and sat on my foot.  It was not the one with the broken tail. I now wanted the one who sat on my foot. I wanted the one with the broken tail. I wanted a female. I wanted 1. Six weeks later I was the proud mom of two beagle brothers. Again, this had Allie written all over it.

Today I believe Alyxandra was looking down from The Rainbow Bridge laughing at me. I thought raising a sickly beagle puppy was a tough job.  Little did I know Iposing actually had it easy with her.  Raising two male beagle puppies at the same time turned out to be a riot.  Every time they did something funny, annoying, or dumb, I shook my head and thought of Alyx. I thought of Alyx and laughed. I was so sad for so long after she left. These boys brought me joy.  Just like Allie would have wanted.

They were a creative twosome.  SeamuschewI swear they double teamed us to get what they wanted.  When they entered the chew phase, they cracked me up. Allie had eaten my bed during this stage. With the boys we didn’t have that problem. We had a new house with a wood stove so they had our fire wood available to eat. The wood was their first choice.  When we moved to the country and no longer had wood readily available, they ate my deck.

seamussecureremote

He loved remotes and phones?

It took two of us to handle one beagle. What were we thinking trying to handle 2? It was all part of Allies plan. To make us miss her more, for us to see how easy we had it with just her simple antics, to smile and laugh as much as we could, and so we would finally admit that maybe she didn’t take up as much room in the bed as we bitched about.

We thought 1 beagle was loud. Try two very excited beagles. Two energetic boys who played hard. One good thing with the new house was walks were a choice, not a requirement.

Seamus baying as all good beagles will do.

Seamus baying as all good beagles will do.

Seeing their harnesses and leashes resulted in two baying beagles.  Baying is not their only sound.  They also bark, howl, whine, cry, talk, etc.  They know how to communicate their wants and needs. Different bark = different point they are trying to get across. They got so into our routine that they knew our schedules better than we did. Leaving when we weren’t supposed to resulted in an hour or two of non stop beagle howling.

I had many great years with these boys. So many funny stories to tell. They may have had the same Mom and Dad, but they were such different dogs.  One was all beagle, very opinionated and independent.  The other got the name ‘love bug’.  If you were sitting, he was sitting on you. I don’t know how many times I woke up only to discover him sound asleep on my feet. I presently have 3 wishes. One is to somehow always have a beagle in my life. beagleslovepeaceThe third and final part of this trilogy may be found HERE.  It does not involve beagles.

real world conversations????

Today’s Prompt: Write a post inspired by a real-world conversation. Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.

This oughta be a trip and a half. When was the last time you over heard a real life conversation? You rarely leave your house and the beagle stopped talking months ago. Those beagle conversations were pretty interesting while they lasted. Must be the medication. Or maybe the beagle is tired. Hmmmm, Tired? What a fabulous word that is.

Nobody likes me everybody hates me I think I’ll eat some worms.

I don’t think they realize how they sound. If they could hear themselves talk, would they continue with their conversation? I think not. But they can’t hear themselves talk so they continue. On and On. Go eat some worms I say. Or think. I can’t say that as that would be politically incorrect. I am so tired of hearing those words. Politically Incorrect? What exactly does that mean? Politically Incorrect by whose standards?

The same thing every day. Day, after day, after day. You’d think they would bore not just me, but themselves as well. You’d think they would come up with something new by now. You’d think the whole world had OCD the way they repeat themselves day after day after day.

You use to be like them. You don’t even know how much you use to be like them. You just did not have anyone available to listen to you. You did not have the whole world to listen to you. Well, maybe not the whole world, but a big chunk of it anyway. The difference is the Internet. Today they have the Internet. You didn’t have the Internet when you were stuck like they are. You only had your small teeny weenie world of people to torment. Today they have the cosmos, should the cosmos choose to listen.

Yesterday was a bit different. It was Michael. He talked to you. Michael doesn’t talk much. Well, he doesn’t talk about himself much. He is so unlike others you have met. He is funny as hell, but he hurts. You know he hurts. He just doesn’t piss and moan about it all the time. When he talks, you really need to listen.

And listen you did. You listened to his pain, his torment, his hell. You may not have experience with his particular illness, but you are familiar with what it is telling him, what it is making him feel, what it is making him think. You have been there. You have heard it, felt it, thought it.  You know what he is talking about. You have a decision to make. You can cajole him and say crap like, “It’ll get better.” “You will not feel like this forever.” “Your feelings will change.”  That is what they would have told you.

That is not what you needed to hear. That is not what helped you. That is not what made you feel better. Fine then, try this, “You say you are tired of acting like everything is alright, you are tired of pretending, you are tired of hiding. You are tired. No problem. STOP!  Stop acting as if everything is okay. Stop pretending. Stop hiding.  JUST FRIGGIN’ STOP!  Yes, you are tired. This illness can be infuriating. It can be exhausting. I understand that. If you are that tired then stop. STOP!!!! JUST STOP!!!! Tell someone in your real life exactly how you feel, exactly what you are thinking, exactly what is going on. No one can help you if they do not know the truth. If they do not know what is really happening. If they do not know what you are really thinking. If they do not know what you want to do.

You need to rest. You need a break. You need to get It to stop. You have a good life. People are jealous when they look at your life. You have a beautiful wife, a nice house, an awesome car, and a great pack of dogs. They do not know about your illness. They do not know what it tells you.  They do not know how it makes you feel. They do not know the battle you fight every day. EVERY DAY. You have had good times. You have had times where the illness was not in charge. You have been happy. You can be happy again.

Haha I just put 3 ice cubes in my coffee. 3, not 4. Take that mental illness. I will beat you. But I can’t beat you if I don’t know about you. I can’t beat you if others do not know about you. I can’t beat you alone. I need help.  I need people. No one can help me beat you if they don’t know anything is wrong.

You can be happy again. I know, that is so not what you want to hear. There is really nothing you want to hear. You’ve heard it all before. The illness is so strong in you right now. It is so loud. It is almost completely in control. But that is almost. ALMOST. Not totally and completely, ALMOST. It is never really over until you take that last breath. Even then it may not be over. They can always bring you back. They can always stick a tube down your throat. Force air into your lungs. Do you really want to go through that again? Do you really want to put your wife through that pain again? You were so close last time. So close, yet it did not work. It should have worked. Yet it did not. Have you ever wondered why?

You say you are ready. You say it is time. You say you are done. You don’t come right out and say it, but we all know what you mean. Do you say this or does the illness say this? Who is really talking? You? Or the illness?

Maybe they are not ready for you. Maybe it is not time? Maybe you are not done? Maybe you need to try again?

Maybe a soul that hasn’t even been born yet needs you. Maybe you need to go through what you are going through to help that soul go through what they are going to have to go through. Maybe that soul will change the world. Maybe that soul will be unable to change the world unless you are there to help them do it. Maybe you need to rest. Maybe you need a nap. A regular nap. Not a forever nap. Maybe you need a person who is destined to come into your life tomorrow. Until then, nap.  You will be less tired if you nap.

Domesticated Momster

  

 

12 year old Livin’

Today’s Prompt: Where did you live when you were 12 years old? Today’s twist: pay attention to your sentence lengths and use short, medium, and long sentences as you compose your response about the home you lived in when you were twelve.

The title almost makes it sound like fun. Some of being 12 was fun. That was the year we put the in ground pool in. We had a choice. Vacations once a year or a pool.  A pool all the time. We easily chose the pool. Those were happy times. Our house was soon to become The House. The house everyone wants to hang at.  Not many in the neighborhood could say they have an in ground pool. Soon, ours would be complete.

Things were pretty fine for me in school as well. My junior high softball team were champs that year. The boys baseball coach got mad at our team during the bus ride home from the last game.  We sang “We are the Champions” half the way home.  After he ‘spoke’ to us, we quieted down a bit.  With the singing anyway.  He didn’t have the power to shut us up completely.  Boy were the boys quiet on the way home.  We went undefeated. They did not.

I remember my father and Pop remodeled our basement that year.  They turned a dark damp basement into two more rooms.  Unlike building a pool in the backyard, everyone was doing this. Mom’s friend turned their basement into a barroom so my parents followed suit.  One room had the couch, television, dehumidifier, and the bar.  The other room had the fireplace. Throw in some ceiling tiles, wood paneling and carpeting and you had added living space. When you turned off all the lights it turned pitch black. There were no windows. This made for the perfect atmosphere for a new game we created. It was called ghost and it could only be played in my parents barroom.

My 12th year did not stay this good.  My father left that year. My parents separated.  I don’t remember much of this time.  All I really remember is him stating, “I cannot stay sober in this house,” and he was gone. I do not recall seeing him for at least a year.

His presence was felt.

The back door of our house never locked properly. Well it locked, it just didn’t stay shut.  Even with it locked, all you needed to do was give a good shove and the door would open. The door sill was a bit off.  Not many people knew this. My father did. More than once we would come home, only to find things added, moved around, or taken away. My father was a disturbed stalker. We were his victims. It was spooky to come home not knowing what would be different this time.

The last straw was when the pool filter had electrical problems.  Mom had no choice but to call an electrician for this issue.  The information provided by the electrician was scarier than scary.  He informed us that someone had taken a hammer to the electrical box in the basement.  We were lucky the whole house had not burned down. That was the last straw for the father. Up until this day my mother’s life was the only one threatened. This time her kids were in jeopardy. This was not cool in my Mom’s eyes. Divorce was filed, child support and house finances figured out, and restraining orders filed.  My father fell in love with someone else. then someone else, and then someone else.  We didn’t care what he did as long as his focus remained on people other than us.  Eventually we all went our separate ways.  The house of my 12th year remains occupied by the father and his new, other family.