Pretty Much Today

As I sat watching a television show last night something interesting was said.
"Men are the rock. They are strong, solid, capable of withstanding great weight and hardship. Women are fluid like water. Always changing and adapting."

After an altercation this morning with a man it dawned on me.
We ARE water. We move sometimes swiftly and chaotically to achieve our goals. Sometimes we appear to be standing still, but beneath our surface tides are rolling and slowly changing the very environment around us.

So, darling, you be the rock. But understand this- you are but one rock beneath tepid waters. And I am the river slowly molding, eroding and moving you to bend to my will.

Now go fuck yourself.

No More Bullshit.

Times have changed so much in the last fifty years. Women are being taught that they are to be regarded as equals from an early age. They are taught what abuse is. How they are worth more then to allow someone to treat them badly. And every time you see photos of abuse, it is always worse case scenarios. What they are not taught is that there are many forms of abuse. That someone can make you feel afraid, or worthless without ever having to lay their hands on you.
This is what they are neglecting to tell our daughters. Keep in mind throughout this,....I am not what you would call a "feminist"...but more of a "survivor".

I filed for a restraining order against my daughter's father in the beginning of this month. For privacy purposes, let's call him J. In June of this year, I had to call the police and have them escort me to J's home to retrieve my daughter who was in his possession. She is six. He had drank himself stupid, and passed out with my six year old child after scaring the shit out of her by throwing everything off of her dresser, and slandering me to her.
I was with him, in a domestically abusive relationship, for four years. I have been separated from him, for four years. This means that for eight years of my life, that I will never get back, I have been abused in one form or another. He has not laid a hand on me since our split in 2010, but he has found ways of manipulating, and guilting and outright verbally, and emotionally abusing me for EIGHT YEARS. I was ready for it to stop after the incident with my child. I provided proof to the Police Department of obsessiveness, harassment, and verbal abuse.
My request was denied until a Court Hearing. If this does not go through, what that tells me (and my daughter) is that unless a person is physically assaulting you currently, or stalking your every move,...that they are not abusive. My eleven-year-old daughter remembers everything. And I do mean everything. Every foul word ever muttered under his breath, every time his hands found themselves clasped around my neck, and every single time he non-nonchalantly followed me around the house with the barrel of his shotgun daring me to find out whether it was loaded or not. This makes me ill. I could have very easily called my daughter into court, had her testify and drudge up old memories she's trying so hard to forget....but why would I force my beautiful damaged child to relive moments that I, myself, am also trying so hard to forget?
My daughter learned her coping skills from her mother at far too early an age. How to force things "under the rug" and put a smile on her face no matter what. How to not feel. For this reason I failed her.
My youngest, doesn't remember living with her father, and as best I can I shelter her from the feuds. This isn't working anymore. She is smart, and alert and far too opinionated for a little girl. "Daddy can come see me when he learns to follow the rules. Everyone has to follow rules mom."
She hasn't seen her father since June because Daddy wont follow the rules. And her lack of caring for him astounds me. She occasionally brings him up when a song comes on the radio that she had listened to with him.
"Do you miss your Daddy?"
"Yeah a little bit."
"Would you like to talk to him?"
"Maybe tomorrow."
Tomorrow. It's always "tomorrow" and yet tomorrow never comes.
She knows how he speaks to me, of me. And it angers her. My biggest fear is her getting to an age when she attempts to speak up to her father about it, gets angry, aggressive. And he does the same thing to her that he has done to me.
J pays child support. He works, and he used to take her every other weekend. Ever since that Sunday night in June, he doesn't push the issue with her. What does a father have to do exactly to make a small child stop caring about him, but also for him to give up so quickly? My daughter wont really talk about it,...and this worries me. I raised no victims. I refuse to allow them to be, and in order to portray this to them, I must begin by showing my daughters that through my struggles...through the name calling, the slapping, hitting, kicking, dragging, slandering and manipulation....that Mom came out on the otherside stronger then ever. And Family Law courts be damned,.....I AM NO VICTIM!!

Passions Rising

I was asked to become passionate about something yesterday. "Anything" I was told. "Write a novel, take more photos, whatever!" At a very weak moment in my life, when all hell seems to be spiraling slowly out of my control, and I've yet to hit the eye of the storm, I've been asked to find passion.

So here is some passion for all of you....
       My daughter is about to turn ten. She has the same mental illness as her mother, and everyday it shows a little more. I am struggling to maintain a connection with her, but either one or the other of us severs this link on any given day, and fire rains from the skies in an apocalyptic type storm that lasts for days, sometimes weeks of "Oh my god what are you staring at, and what do you want from me???" She's failing school, which makes me feel like a bigger failure as a mother because I was never a bad student until I got into middle school and made the personal choice to become one during a series of very poor life events, and I fear she is doing the same. She's becoming hormonal, and pre-teeney and all around, some days, unbearable. How do you say out loud without being crippled by guilt, "Hey, there are just some days when I can't stand my own kid!" (Even though, realistically you are fully aware that every parent has to have either gone through this or will go through this at some point during their kids' lives.)
         My other child has severe hyperactivity and JIA. You might be inclined to think "Oh, poor kid", but no. The girl's ADHD causes her pain tolerance to be off the charts, so she's constantly on the go, and her mouth never stops. Sometimes, I just want to stick her in an empty room with bare walls so she can talk to her own echo for a few hours and make herself insane. And then more guilt for having such thoughts....
        My seizures are worse now then they were due to recent flare-ups of my own RA, poly cystic ovaries, and lack of sleep because of my extremely high levels of anxiety. I have been in a permanent state of depression for sometime now that I am only able to suppress for short periods at a time when some outside force sucks me into temporary mania. Or when I am able to (unhealthily) "piggyback" myself onto the good feelings of others and ride those until they come crashing back down again taking me with them. All sending me spiraling into a gaping pit of epilepsy.
       My relationships with others are suffering because of all of this. My children have "no home training" (or so it would appear) my epilepsy and depression and pain make me anti-social, and me being so tuned-in to others around me make me a generalized sad-sack.

        Where is my passion? My passion is in the rage I feel for having no money. The frustration I feel for my kids. The knot in my stomach for every seizure I have. The feeling of wanting to choke someone out everytime they ask me a stupid fucking question like, "Where's your passion?"

I want for my family, for my friends. Yes I could combat all of this and take on the fucking world.....but I'm no Lance Armstrong, and I don't "do" long-term as far as hobbies are concerned. Yes I have been a writer, a photographer, a lyricist, a vocalist, a house-mom, a culinary artist, and many others!! Because I have had many interests over my 25 years of life.  When my fucking "passion" strikes,....I'll take it for what it is.....but when it's gone,.....appreciate it for what it was,...what it always has been. Fleeting. I'll never be anything more than flighty, flaky, and unwavering. Someday I'll find something else to be fucking "PASSIONATE" about.....but know this going in.....IT WONT FUCKING LAST!!
Until then.....you shouldn't ask questions you don't really want to know the answer to....

Watching the aging process...

If I never do anything promising in my entire life it would be that I will not die in front of a T.V. or computer screen. I refuse to do so. I hope that I go in some sort of exciting way. Carefree and screaming in joy, adrenaline and ecstasy. I don't want people to remember me in such a way that I was boring and lifeless. I feel as though I may be experiencing my mid-life crisis a little early. Every few years,...or maybe it's months,...I go through a period where I realize I hate myself, I hate my life...and I want to do an entire over-haul and change myself. The problem being, that ever since these feelings started (maybe around age fourteen or so) I have yet to change a whole hell of a lot about myself aside from my sense of style which lately consists of t-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. Pretty lame for a twenty-five-year-old with a halfway decent figure,...(I'd like to think so considering I've had two kids!) And I'm not saying this out of vanity, I'm saying this, because I can look in the mirror, and unlike women my age who are trying desperately to recapture their slipping youth, or the one's who have long since given up and don't wear make-up at all,....I try to adjust or re-adjust for my age. My eyes are changing now. I am beginning to show the signs of life. The lines in the corners of my eyes that show that I've spent many nights up late laughing those low belly laughs with friends, so loud and long that we'd forgotten why we were laughing to begin with. The crease between my brows that remains even when I don't furrow my brows that my father warned me about so much, that shows how much time I spent worrying. (That by the way runs much deeper then my laugh lines.) Worrying about grades at first, friends and boys,....then later about kids and money, rent and men. The dark circles around my eyes bring back memories of sleepless nights up with my youngest child when she just refused to sleep, and the days I still battle when I just...want....sleep! I look at my body, and I don't see a seventeen year old body any longer, and I'm proud of that fact, because I didn't like my seventeen year old body any how. I have stretchmarks, and my belly sags, my boobs aren't where they're suppose to be, and my thighs are twice the size I remember them being, but I'm strangely okay with that. I've pipe dreamed with friends about plastic surgeries, but realistically,...I could think of a million other things I could do with a few grand before cutting up the parts of my body I've become accustomed to over the years. Twenty five really isn't that old, but it isn't seventeen either, and it isn't twenty. My mind works in different ways than it once did. I remember looking in the mirror at fourteen and thinking "Who are you?" It's all part of having a mental disorder. I got used to the young girl looking back at me. She matured a little, and the pudge fell off, but now there's this....well....WOMAN,....staring back at me and I find myself once again with a new body, and a new face looking in the mirror asking her, "Who the hell are you?" And sometimes she smiles, or makes a stupid face while she's putting on her make up or doing her hair and I see freckles popping through, and there's a glimpse of the kid in there, but for the most part, the woman has covered her up pretty well. She's aged her, smudged her, life has taken it's toll on her. So I find myself,....wondering where life will take me from here. Ten years, twenty,....or if I'll make it that far. And how little I've accomplished in the seven years of my adult life. (Nine if you consider the fact I've been a mother since I was sixteen) I've had aspirations, dreams, motivations,....and yet to get up and do it. When will I feel the want? The drive? When will enough be enough? Maybe tomorrow.....

Political, Religious and Other..Views By Kiera. The End.

Since a vast majority of my friends are persistent on posting their opinions,...no...not just opinions... But most of all FORCING their views on so-called loved ones, and demanding that others see their point of view otherwise they are "just ignorant"... I want to share some of mine. Just to make my standpoint clear so there is no confusion, and no more bitterness. Political, religious, etc... Note that my views are subject to change as I grow and mature... I AM twenty five years old, but I am not naive. Nor am I easily swayed, nor am I stupid. May I add- this is to wean out those who are on my "friends list" for the intended purpose of catching up with my life, socially interacting with me etc,... and those who are only online to get their "troll fix". And in case anyone isn't aware- correcting others, being morally, politically or religiously offended... It is actually an addiction. You begin going out looking for groups who oppose the things you believe in for the purpose of being outraged. One source found here. Anyone who attacks me for my beliefs- will be I un-friending. And THAT is the purpose of this.

1. Guns. This country is in an uproar over gun laws. If not guns, it would be other weapons. We have had weapons since man first started walking the earth. In the beginning, it was for hunting and protection against wild animals. Now...we have become the wild animal. And we need protection from those of us that can't control our primal instinct. And yes, there are those who are born with the inability to control it. I would feel safer myself in a home with a gun. I myself, know how to clean, load and shoot a firearm. I am proud of this fact. I am also proud of the fact that I am a huge promoter of peace. I would never resort to using a weapon unless my life was threatened, or the world came to a state that it was required to hunt for food. Period.

2. Religion. "Religion is like a penis. It's nice to have one, its good to be proud of it. Please don't take it out in public and waive it around and please don't shove it down my throat." Blatantly said. Most people I know are aware of the fact now that I, myself, am not a Christian. I do NOT, however, put people down who are. Nor do I mock the Christian faith. Do I question it? Yes. Do I have debates with intelligent Christian people? Yes. I would never, never, NEVER disrespect someone else's religion. I am always respectful to those who practice differently than I do, and to those who don't practice faith at all. When led in prayer before dinner, I respectfully bow my head. During the pledge of allegiance I RECITE. I am, however, tired of Jesus posts of Facebook. Clicking "like" on a post will not save your soul!! Likewise, ignoring it will not condemn you to hell. Saying "Praying for so-and-so" on your status does not count as a prayer. What this literally translates to is; "Look what a good Christian I am! I'm praying!" IF YOU WANT TO PRAY FOR SOMEONE GET ON YOUR KNEES AND PRAY! A candle light vigil is enduring the frigid air on your face and embracing loved ones while mourning a loss within a group of fellow mourners. Not sharing a photo.

3. Abortion- leaving this one be simply for the fact that my opinion varies depending on the situation. There are situations when women are simply being selfish, and situations when it simply calls for it-period.

4. Gay marriage- love knows no gender. Maybe marriage is a biblical term. I agree. Call it something else. Call it a unity. But let gays have it. Why is there still a fight over this? Oh yes... People are afraid of things that scare them and the amount of homophobes in the world is steadily growing. Not every gay man who approaches you, gentlemen, is hitting on you! You aren't all that awesome and every man (including gay men) have a "type" they are attracted to. You may not be it, get over yourself. Women don't seem to be AS threatened (in my experience) but the same applies ladies! As a bisexual female, I can say that if I am bs'ing with you or come off as flirty- I'm probably just having fun, and not actually hitting on you. If I think you're attractive, I'll let you know. Acknowledging an attractive person, however and saying "I want you NOW" are also not the same. Other than that- let same sex couples love each other. It's love. Who cares?

5. Generalized politics- shut up! Not every single person on Facebook NEEDS to hear your opinion on the president, the impending elections, props, or whatever. Especially more than once! And even if you spam your wall with feeds, chances are, it won't change the opinions of others. The only reason you're doing it at that point is to fire somebody up. It's immature, it's stupid, and no one is impressed that you borrowed a quote from a senator to make yourself sound intelligent. What's worse is you either misspelled it or made yourself look really bad and misunderstood it.

6. "Trash talking"- "My day would've been great if SOMEBODY wouldn't have messed it up by calling. SHE knows who SHE is" Okay, for one- if you are going to follow that up with "Call me" when someone asks "what's wrong?" Don't post it on Facebook because you were looking for attention and sympathy, otherwise....say who you had a problem with. If you don't- SHE either is on your friend's list and you're too chicken to call her out,...or someone she knows is. You are talking crap without talking crap. You are a coward, and shouldn't be spreading your drama disease online anyway. I understand the whole "It's my facebook I'll post what I want" But I can guarantee that girl you called to talk to about it- is probably sick of it too regardless of how much she pretends with her, "Nu uh girl I would've whooped her ass!" ...No you wouldn't have....you don't even have the guts to tell your friend on the other line to shut up already because we are all sick of hearing it...unless of course she is just as into the dramatic fix as the other one in which case,...well they should both go back to High School.

7. "Click to send $1 for this baby with cancer." - By the time that photo has been shared 100 times, it's done. And I'm telling you now, Mark Zuckerburg is NOT paying for all these dying kids. Clicking "Like" or "Share" is not going to save children with cancer, nor would it stop Kony, or Save Katrina Victims, or Keep your Grandma from dying, or help you meet your true love. Now what sharing photos CAN do? It CAN get you a few laughs, or share a nice sentimental or motivational quote. Or see a news video. But as for the rest? It's just spam people.

Okay,....I'm getting off my soapbox now. I'm normally not one to engage like this, but the negativity is grinding at me, and I don't have the option to un-friend because a lot of this stuff is coming from people that I love. But I will. So tell me if you don't like it, tell me if you do. I can take you or leave you at this point. It's time to wean out the bad and keep the good. I can handle a healthy debate.
Just something to think about the next time you start to click that "Share" button on that "oh-so-awesome jesus" or "I live for Romney" or "Guns are killing us" post. Think about what the others on you page believe, and what will others think of you, if your entire news feed is covered in other people's pictures, and nothing to do with your own life.

Thank you,
      Kiera

Beatrice Fay Brown Palmer

Yesterday, my Grandma Bea passed away. The notion hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. She and I had discussed many times both in person, and over the phone that this would happen. She spoke of death like she wasn't afraid. That it would come to her as a peaceful slumber. Or at least she hoped it would. She wanted to go to sleep, and simply not wake up. My Grandmother is one of the few who passed exactly the way she wanted it. Although I had lost touch with her over the last five years or so, my Grandmother was losing touch as well. So this was a painful relief. Not for me of course, but this is what we are suppose to be telling ourselves to make her moving on less painful.
After the initial shock of being told the news....the gut wrenching, "wind-knocked-out-of-you", falling on the ground to your knees (literally), feeling of pure helplessness, guilt, and shame. Yes guilt and shame. We all felt it. Anyone who said otherwise are liars. Whether she was your round the clock babysitter, you spoke down to her because her mind was going, or snickered because her hearing was bad and everytime you said something she would smile because she had no clue what you were saying.....the moment after grief came absolute guilt. It's natural. You never feel that REALLY until after someone's passing. I did. I felt for her the last time I was up there, although I made no real attempt to connect. I do feel the stab of guilt, as I should....as should we all. But in reality, I don't think Grandma really cared. She had her babies, her family, and her house. She moaned and groaned a lot, as old women tend to do,....but she had most of what she wanted.

For those of you who don't already know- I'm taking the opportunity to share this now, as I see no real sense in hiding this any longer. I feel no shame in it, just wanted to avoid conflict;
I am not a Christian.
So after the sudden punch had passed of feeling miserable, I remembered Grandma's talks with me, and her telling me that she didn't want her "babies to hurt" over her passing. So yesterday evening, as I sat, half laying, in a daze on the couch, I began to imagine the after life for my Grandmother.
She was part Indian, and loved to brag about it. I imagined her journey into the Nightlands to comfort myself. A peaceful, effortless descent that brought a tear to my eye. But as she came to the open plains of the place of rest, she didn't enter.
I couldn't get past this part of my fantasy. I began to bother me a bit.
Then it dawned on me. I am not a Christian, but my Grandmother was. A devout one at that. She wasn't in the Nightlands. Or the Summerlands, or the Underworld, the Resting Grounds or otherwise. Grandma Bea was nestled snuggly and firmly in the hands of heaven.
And having known what I did about heaven, and what I did about the things Grandma and I had talked about, I envisioned her heaven. And cried. I know now where she is. And she is happy.

Grandma is on a porch surrounded by the wet red clay in the Oklahoma sunset. A 27 year old rendering of herself (because this is the age she had always said she would be happiest, and would go back to given the chance) is sitting on a rocking bench on a porch with her daddy. They're drinking Pepsi, and she's catching him up on all the family gossip, telling him about her newest babies, explaining what Facebook is, and enjoying all the company he has to offer. Surrounded by sweetly scented purple lavender......

Normally at a moment like this,.....people say, "Rest in peace so and so" but I don't think this is necessary. Grandma never needed to be told to rest. She spent the last few years resting, so that when she got up there, she'd have the energy to do everything she ever wanted. I hope she doesn't rest. I hope she laughs, and talks to Grandpa Brown and Granny for days. I hope she mingles with family members long forgotten, and keeps her eyes on us all the way she really wanted to. I hope she continues to be the voice in our ear.
And although these are always too late when they come,....I want to be the first to come out and say what an asshole I was. I'm sorry Grandma....but I have a strange feeling of peace when I say it. Like it just doesn't matter anymore.

I hope we can all take a moment in the next few days to say we are sorry, allow that forgiving feeling to wash over us,.....and think of the way she was when we were kids eating watermelon on the back porch....I have to since I didn't know her at 27.

Long summers running barefoot to Anita's house while she chased us about burning our feet on the street, sprinklers in the backyard, elaborate holiday meals, days worth of video footage because she didn't want to miss a minute of our childhood, the stupid songs she sang that would stuck in our heads,....that I will sing to my kids for years to come....

Amen.
Blessed Be.
Benedictus.
And all that may follow.

Neurotic Ramblings

Today is most definitely a "poor pitiful me" day. Every one seems a little agitated with me as I have been at a disconnect lately with all but one. My decision making skills are lacking still.I have fallen back on my arse down that slippery slope known as "co-dependence" and allowed myself to project my feelings of inadequacy and anxiety onto those around me. I have become neurotic and compulsive in my need to satisfy, and suffocated one while neglecting the other. Such is the plight of the Bi-polar co-dependent. I must say for an otherwise mentally healthy co-dependant, it must be a nightmare. I have the inability due to bi-polar to be able to focus on multiple things at one time, and sometimes hone in on one "over-focused" subject and do it until it kills me. For a normal person, co-dependance is the obsessive need to please everyone at once.....I would likely off myself. This would probably be better for everyone else, just not me.
I haven't been doing my meditation like I'm suppose too....*slaps own wrist* BAD MYOTONIC GOAT-GIRL!! In-part due to not having time period, and partially due to not having time alone and being embarrassed by the process it requires. Smart remarks and wise-cracks make me just not want to do it at all. Ally says to "Own that shit" ....easier said then done. I don't know why it's such a sensitive subject for me. Make fun of the hair on my back, the unusual length of my toes, the size of my nose, my crooked teeth,....most likely I will laugh too and blame my genetics with a, "those fuckers!!" but for something that is so comfortable to me, it is still an uneasy subject matter to talk about my meditation techniques and beliefs. It's mostly the way in which it's done too, I suppose. Agitated, hostile, and almost angry and defensive. Like how dare I think freely and believe something different that's so out there??
So many reasons for deflection of emotion. This trip has me on edge. There has been alot of "up and down" with my family over the last year and a half. One huge blow-out, followed by a make-up, followed by little bouts of disagreements here and there and only hearing from them occasionally.....and now I am going to see them. I have an extremely high level of anxiety over that. My daughter's mental issues, that (was pointed out to me this morning) should have been taken care of over the summer while I could watch her reactions to medications....(of course I didn't think of that....why would I?? Now she gets to wait for school to start because we had "too much chaos going on this summer") her father who can't come get her, wont come get her, wants to fight, then wants to be friends again, the little one just plain being four years old, the potential photographic opportunities I'm letting slip through my fingers, the financial bull shit that I haven't even begun to take care of REALLY, all of that and trying to cope with my own mental issues and NOT HAVE SEIZURE ACTIVITY BECAUSE GOD FORBID I SHOULD START TO TWITCH!! I have swept it under the rug for the last few weeks,....and today that rug is being trampled. Little by little particles of my muck are flying out. So now I suppose I'm going to just sit back and wait for an elephant to come tromping through and taking the damn rug with him, exposing all my dirty little secrets.......I may boil over....wish me luck.... 

"Tied Up"

I can't tell whether it's a lasting effect from alcohol consumption, co-dependence kicking in, or a depressive cycle starting to rear it's ugly head, but either way today is wrapped in anxiety and topped off with a nice little panic attack waiting to happen. Imagine yourself in a chair, bound in thin twine, on the edge of a cliff while your skin itself writhes underneath to set you free. The twine is the only thing keeping you balanced from tipping off altogether. So you breathe deeply. Low, shallow, controlled breathes....but the harder you try to control your nerves, the worse they get. The worse they get, the more you squirm, the more you squirm the tighter the string gets,.....the eventuality being that it's going to snap. Whether or not you have the right mindset to hit the ground running the opposite way, or panic to the point of falling off is the question. So I sit.....in my chair....wrapped in twine.....and squirming, gasping for air. It's a miserable feeling to not have a hold of your own emotion. To be at the point where your gut is physically wrenching from the amount of emotional bullshit that's going on in your brain. And over what? Do I even know? I can tell myself not to worry.....I wont concern myself....meditate....find my balloon....today? It doesn't seem to matter. Hands are shaky, mind is darting all over the room yet all I can think to do is go to bed? Too much time to myself causes irrational thinking, which causes higher anxiety levels. I allow everyone else's mood to determine mine which causes higher anxiety levels, ......when can I cut the twine on my own time?

Spiritual Enlightenment Bust

I recently chose to undergo a new path to find a way to a spirituality all my own. Something earthy-based, that was more tangible and free-form.....not so constricting. This newer path (I wont mention) I probably SHOULDN'T have mentioned...to ANYONE! The people I thought would be the most supportive now seem to be looking down on me. (No I'm not sacrificing virgins or spilling goats blood in the name of some demonic force) but I have already been called a "tard" and asked about the "values" I will be passing to my children through this new found faith. To be quite honest,....I didn't see it necessary to drag my girls down this path with me. My kids were raised of knowing one god, and one satan, ten commandments, and one holy bible....and so it shall remain. My new quest is mine alone to take. And having science and the kinetic energy forces shoved down my throat as proof that such dieties do not exist doesn't seem to be waivering me this time since these teachings prove the same things. We are all made up of energies. It seems I have also become somewhat "absorbed" in this new search...a bad habit I have. Anytime I find something that interests me, I fling myself into it whole-heartedly. "Maybe in your path to spirituality you'll make time for everything else in your life." I want to retort, "I need this. As angry as you are with me about what is going on situationally, this has nothing to do with faith or religion..." but more then likely I will say this as I am peering up from my book of teachings. This ISN'T far from the truth. Although I haven't yet submersed myself in this religion itself, I HAVE spent many hours with my face buried in books, or on the computer doing extensive research on the subject. And although I truly believe I need this, I also believe this is a selfish move on my part. I WILL be chastised for this. If I am really going to peruse this, it will have to be in private. When no one is around, and on my own time. No one needs to know, and it should not be flaunted. Why present myself in such a way that will create vulnerability any more then I already have? There is so much about me that so many already know. I didn't intend to let others know as much as they do. I came here to "keep the mystery" and allow myself to sort of "start over." I wanted a second chance. I have yet to accomplish that. In few aspects, I have. I am no longer the angry, torn, scornful woman I once was. I don't deliberately start fist fights like a white trash gutter rat the way I once did. I don't purposely destroy property, (my own included) and although I've become more distant from my children then I once was, I don't allow them to be exposed to the things they once were. I suppose the distancing is mostly a guilt factor....that's for a different day though....but back to the subject of the religion....I want,...no....I feel I NEED the spiritual connection with SOMETHING....and the Christian God just isn't it....I feel like my ties with him have been severed. Maybe it's my sexuality. I don't feel the need to fight that. It's not a sin to have feelings for a woman. Why should it be? I don't want to be "loved" by a God who is so quick to cast me to hell for having feelings of attraction or even feelings of LOVE even if they are for someone of the same sex! Love is a terribly amazing and wonderful feeling, and how can you condemn someone to hell for loving? That seems hypocritical. He makes people that way, then asks you to do the worst thing possible.....to suppress it. Maybe it's that the Holy Bible is a book of "He-said She-Said" (And by the way- if you are reading this and are Christian- please DO NOT try to tell me why the Bible is correct, or why Christianity is "the way" .....this blog is of feeling, not of fact, and this is not in any way, shape or form an introduction to a religious debate....I DO NOT have the energy or the mind set for that right now- so if this offends you please just stop reading now!) and and there is no actual proof that any of it happened other then,...some people wrote stuff down.....I could write down a false life story right now and fifty years from now- someone could find it a worship me! Christianity is based off of blind faith. "God is all around us" ..."You have to trustingly put your life in his hands" ......"Trust him to guide you, and he will take care of you" I'm sorry, but I...and I alone.....am in charge of my destiny. God did not take me away from a domestically abusive relationship....I gathered that strength myself...would you like to know WHO gave me that strength??? My children. Plain and simple. But as far as ACTUAL spirituality..... thanks to the people around me who truly need me....remarks made and eyes placed upon me.....everyone will be happy to know...I am giving up on it altogether. My books are going on the bookshelf, I'm done. I can't stand to be mocked, and I can't handle having those around me who love me think that I am more concerned with myself then them. I will chose not to learn. I will chose not to pray, or meditate, .....No redes, rules, commandments,.... So when it comes down to it, and all the problems in their lives and mine,....I will depend on karma, or the chaotic universe, or a random series of events or WHATEVER the hell kind of force it is out there that forces us to drive in forward motion to continue pushing....and I will sit in solitary and do good for myself. So that the god, goddess, diety, muse,  or karma, or chakra, threefold law, rede, crede, rules, rites,  whatever it is, hopefully doesn't come back to bite me in the ass.

The Dating Game & Why I'm Not Playing

So over the last few months I've had a LOT of people ask me, "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" or tell me, "I know this REALLY cute guy I think you'd LOVE!" It's either wondering why I'm not attached or an overly-concerned friend/family member attempting to play match-maker for me. It's nothing personal to them, just simple curiosity. So for all my wonderful, beautiful, amazingly great friends who just want to help; here are my top 3 reasons why I'm not dating just so we are clear:
#3. I have ex issues. Not "Ma baby daddy and me is in looooove" ex issues, but psychotic, obsessive, abusive ex issues. I handle things the way I see fit and men don't generally like the way I do. Most men want to go Jean Claude Van Damme status on him and all that does is infuriate me and create even more issues. They don't like the way I do things, and I will have issues with someone who tries to step in and try to play Mister Tough Guy "I'm gonna whoop his ass" after I've dealt with this for years and years. I know how to handle my own. I'm a big girl. End of story.
#2. I have medical problems. The list of medical problems could go on for days, but I will limit this to the major problems. Frontal lobe seizure disorder. I have severe memory problems. I wont remember his birthday. I wont remember to lock the doors. I wont remember date nights. It's gonna happen, and his feelings WOULD get hurt because of it. My seizures are uncontrolled and because of that; I am self-conscious. I can't go many places on a date, and the places I CAN go can't be very far away from a place where I can lay down to complete a convulsive seizure. (And no a vehicle is not a good place to do this I've tried. Bruising on  my forehead sucks the next day) I claw chunks out of my chest, I stay tired and exhausted ALL the time, I'm generally heavily medicated,....i.e. bad for boyfriend. Because of the seizures and Bipolar (yet another medical/mental issue I deal with) I often deal with long periods of depression. I have to force myself to get out of bed. I DO get out of bed, but it's very difficult. I hate wearing make-up during these times, I dress in sweats or work-out clothes, my hair is usually in a messy bun...I feel very unattractive and unappealing therefore I AM. Therein again: bad for boyfriend. Last medical problem I am going to cover for now is that because of the seizures and during times of depression, my immune system is extremely susceptible to any and every cough, cold, runny nose, stomach virus, body ache, etc, etc, etc....therefore I am CONSTANTLY sick....wrecked much? And not in the nasty whore sense though...
#1. Number and most important reason why I'm not dating: I have two beautiful children. Over the course of the last five or six years, my oldest child especially has been put through hell and back. My kids have seen one particular man mistreat me. My older daughter would be neglected by him, then in a weak feeble attempt at an apology (without an actual apology) he would buy her off to make her feel better. They have had friends come into their lives and show great amounts of affection and then disappear without a second thought. My children deserve better then that. I refuse to allow anyone to come close to them again anytime soon. It will be a LONG time before anyone comes close enough to hurt my kids.

So by now I hope you all understand. I have many guy friends that I thoroughly enjoy hanging out with and being friends. And the next time any of you try to play match maker refer to this prior to telling me how "cute" we will look together or how "much in common" we have. I love having men in my life. I get along with them better then I ever have women. And the guys that I talk to all have things in common with my tastes. So please, don't take this to heart, I love all of you ladies....you are all my dearest friends....but I simply have too much going on in my life right now. Too many complications. There are too many days where even I can't handle all my baggage. Why would I ask someone else to take it on too?
And for the record- some of you have mentioned the phrase "booty call"...as funny as it is (I am laughing as I write this :P) and as much as I joke about it; it's not me....I couldn't just pick a random stranger and hit them up for meaningless sex once in a while. It's not me. It IS a fun topic to laugh about just because sex is my favorite topic to poke fun at (because it makes people uncomfortable which is what I do best) but regardless of what the "good people" of Corcoran have said about me I won't do it.

It's Not Tea Brewing

Clouded hazes seem to be the best ways to mimic happiness for most people. (Myself included.) For anyone who reads my facebook staus the phrase "hidey hole" will appear occasionally from time to time. That is my little "happy bubble"...or at least my guarded wall. I have been dubbed "the bunny rabbit" because rather then confront problems head on at the time of their happening, I take my furry little ass into my "hidey hole" and stew in it. Or so it is to be believed. I think my therapist had at one point, actually put it best when she said; "Some people are percolators, they have to simmer and brew over thoughts and situations before coming up with answers." I'm often times put on the spot. "How do you feel about this?" or "There's a million things going through your head right now...start talking" When realistically, my mind is entirely blank because everything has been put on the back burner to simmer for the time being. It's not for the sake of my own self-preservation, or to maintain my little "happy bubble" but rather for the fact that somethings make take a few hours for me to process,...some may take months. When forced into giving answers on the spot I often come up with some bullshit answer that I may, at the time, believe to be true but upon later inspection realize how off I was. Later on I may come back to the same conversation or argument with a different answer, and feel like I had unintentionally lied or misled the other person the first time around, when in all actuality, I simply hadn't had enough time to think it through enough to clear out all the other meaningless nonsense that came along with it. There is usually a very simple base point that comes with every conversation or answer. A one-sentence, non-complex determination of what it all "boils down to." Followed by a long detailed descriptive reasoning of "why" it is this way. The filtering process is the hard part for me. I think most people don't bother with it to begin with. They allow emotions to run them and let themselves speak passionately about their perspectives based on sheer feeling and guttural instinct. Maybe that's why I "simmer" ...occasionally I do that too. Everyone does,...has...will....but for the most part....when someone comes to me with such strong emotional dealings,....I want to be able to sit and consider theirs first. Take in the problem as a whole. Filter out the pointless, useless details, consider in my own TRUE feelings, (not the IMMEDIATE responding feelings, but the TRUE feelings) and come up with a valid response. It frustrates people to have conversation with me. We may have the same conversation many times over the course of a year for these reasons, and every time we speak the conversation may slightly alter in a different direction. Or, if I'm bull-headed enough it may be the same argument repeatedly. But for the most part, every time the conversation is had, or the argument is made, a small notable piece of information that I hadn't been privy to prior to that slips off their tongue and becomes yet another changing factor in the filtering process making it drag out even longer for me to finally come to a conclusion. The bigger the issue, the longer the wait.     
For those of you who have encountered this problem with me; I'm sorry...and now you understand.
For those of you who haven't: try using this method once in a while. It takes longer, but occasionally it takes away the exhaustion of feeding raw emotion and allows you to dig a little deeper..
Although I DO NOT recommend making this a habit.....it really does irritate the hell out of your loved ones.

Masquerade

Wearing a perfect masque is only half of the battle. Keeping it maintained and looking proper without allowing it to crack and the true pain to show through is the more challenging task at hand. I was once able to do so. I held my head high, smiled, and endured my pain in silence. The only tears I shed were a few in the privacy of my living room at night when everyone else had gone to sleep. I raised my children alone. I have now been encourage to remove my masque. And have. I have to admit, at times...it's freeing. I feel lighter knowing I don't have to carry burdens alone. Seeing the events of the past few weeks, I think now it's time to Spackle that bastard back on my face. I don't want "sounding board friends" I've been one for many people. The friend that has to sit there and listen to someone's entire week, smile and nod and not get a word in edge wise. The one who never gets asked "how are you doing" the friend who is never on someone's priority list.....I have BEEN that friend. I don't want one of those. I would rather not talk at all then to vent to someone who sits, nods and walks away. Seizures be damned, I need to find my own way to cope with things other then speaking about it. I would call them "annoyances" in my life but I'm afraid that it's more then that.....there are certain things (and people) who don't seem to understand that the amount of frustration and pain they are purposely causing are quite literally going to be the death of me...and don't seem to care. Ally put it best... I'm playing Russian roulette and my particular "stresses" are the bullets. The more bullets I have in the gun, the less of a chance I have of walking away. This is NOT exactly a metaphor, sadly. SUDEP - Death in Epilepsy The more seizures I have, the higher the risk of SUDEP. So for all intense purposes, I have a gun pointed at my head and the mother fucker is loaded......my kids dads...(YES BOTH OF YOU GUYS)...not being able to work, trying to take care of my kids, getting frustrated because I cant remember things, etc etc etc......are all bullets in the gun for me......how many can I possibly load in the damn thing without brain matter being splattered on the wall? (Or at least what's left of my brain matter...) Or even worse...(yes this is worse:) becoming mentally incapable of taking care of myself and my kids, or becoming a vegetable....I DON'T EVEN LIKE BROCCOLI!!

So for the record this may be the last time my actually "feelings" are openly and honestly expressed and in simple form; here they are:
Fear
Anger
Resentment
Disappointment
Depression
Inadequacy
Good old-fashioned Fucked-up

My Own Artistic Expression

"Finding new outlets" has been my new goal. Thanks to Paul and Ally I have now been allowed to rekindle an old passion for photography. Taking photographs in and of itself provides not only an artistic outlet, but a therapeutic level of stress release. Photo editing; playing with contrast, lighting, effects, grain, etc...forces my mind to work on a more intelligible level that I currently believe it lacks. Writing and photography are currently going to be my two main focuses for a sort of "escape" out of seizure activity. Due to the fact that they are neurological, this may not work 100% of the time, but if using these expressive means to prevent even one a week, or calm seizure type activity once in a while will help slow the deteriorating process. The last few days have been more of a "playtime" activity...learning to use the bulky camera began as a sort of chore but is quickly becoming an adventure. I can't remember the last time I opened my eyes to the world around me like this. It's a feeling I really only get with a camera or a pen and paper in my hand. If I am photographing, or writing a descriptive piece, I tend to notice the most beautiful and odd details at the same time. My grandma's house was always a place of curiosity for me with my cameras. The oldest most antiqued looked objects sit there. Rust and vegetation coated vehicles, chains, tractors, fences...I don't know why but things like that capture my interest more then anything. It's extremely stereotypical, but it's the "beauty and the beast" type visual. Rusted old tractor tires, worn and dirt covered with the greenest blades of grass growing up around it. Or cobwebbed, oiled chains hanging against a newly painted white fence. Old car parts, tools,...and that's only in the back! I am tempted someday to venture into the garage when grandpa's not there and take some of his hot rods for him!! It's even more of an amazing thing to share. Today I had the pleasure of spending some time in the back with my beautiful daughter. I explained to her about contrasting shapes, textures,....solid backgrounds with busy foregrounds, dark and plain colored objects surrounded with bright vibrancy. My baby catches on quickly to few things, I admit, but quickly it became, "Hey mommy! How about this?!" and "Look at your old bike with the weeds!!" I could've spent hours out there with her, had it just been us. I have been photographing since I got my very first camera at seven. I began telling stories through pictures at age ten. Whether it be what truly happened in them, or making up my own as I go. (Sometimes fiction is simply more interesting; we all know this!) For the most part I stuck to disposable cameras and later on, cheap digital. Which, as I'm sure you can all understand, is why I'm so excited now. This is the first time I could every truly start expressing myself this way. I find the prospect of being able to start a chronological photographic memoir (so to speak) of my life. Along with blogs, digital journal entries, fact and fictional stories, songs and poetry to go along with it. So when the the comes, and I pass.....the last thing my children my could ever say is "What was my mother's life like?"   

Random thoughts and a Ship with no Captain

Those "heavy-hearted" sort of days are the hardest. And I can't seem to count all of the reasons swimming in my mind. The guilt seems to eat me alive. "Do something about it. Change it." Is the best advice I can get. This should be truly motivational. Moving. I should be oppositional defiant. Some days I am. On bad days, my outward attitude appears as though I am "apathetic" or "rolling over".....defeated. Uncaring. If they could only hear the thoughts being tossed around in this mind of mine. I can't physically force myself to do anything. Or I get a burst of energy,  then as fast as it comes, it's gone again. I don't want to lose the beauty of what I have. The emotion...the story of day to day life. These are days I want to remember someday without regret. These thoughts run through my mind every single day. I have lived enough regretable days in my 24 years of life. I am old enough now to be able to make REAL impressions and still young enough to get started but can't even seem to move from where I now sit. My eyes fuzz over and refuse to focus. My hands fidget with anything my fingers come in contact with. Some days even words are far too complex for my brittle mind. My tongue toys in the strangest ways with words before finally releasing them from my mouth. It feels as though my body does it just to tease me. Letting me know that IT is in charge now. Not me. Someday I will force it to stand down. To relinquish control. For now...what else is there to do besides wait and enjoy he good days?

Humor in Bat Shit Crazy

Emotional drama is about an angry bitch today. I've never been the type of woman who went looking for gossip or who wanted the latest scoop on the "Oh-Em-Gee!! BECKY LOOK AT HER BUTT he-said she-said" bull shit....occasionally, however, drama pimp slaps me clean across the face. Screams, tears, laughs, and numbness all in one day. You could blame it on a thousand and one things today and I would say "yes that's it." Because, yes, that is it! EUREKA!!*  But the problem is "yes!" is the answer to everything. I was angry because of (insert random stupid reasons). I was hysterically crying because of (insert another random stupid cry-baby reason). It all sounds right, it all feels right,....and it all towers above me on days like today. Lashing out at those who love me and are trying their best to help me is not a norm for me. (Although occasionally I think about peeing in their cheerios) It became another one of those "HOLY SHIT! WHO IS THIS MONSTER OF A WOMAN LIVING IN MY SKIN AND WHY CAN'T SHE AT LEAST BRING ME A NICER RACK?!" days. (Ok I totally think this bitch owes me AT LEAST that) I'm not usually THAT quick to pop the ANGRY BOSS macro. (Usually better at misdirect! /cast MD on the dude next door, the mailman  or the freaking dog for all I give a shit anyone to keep my omen meeter from popping!!!)  Not usually so fast to point fingers and blame and play the guilt card. But occasionally I get to go all RAAAAWR KIERA SMASH and then twenty minutes later look around me at the path of destruction I've left behind and the only thought that comes to mind is.. "Ahhh fuck....I MAY have over-reacted slightly....my bad guys!"

As you read through this particular blog it's pretty easy to chuckle....to "omg" or "lol" ...truth be told....I made this one to make myself feel better. I wanted a laugh at my own expense so I wouldn't have to face reality. (Which seems to be my go-to nowadays.) I'm afraid. I'm emotional. I'm anxious. I don't know what I did. What I'm doing. What TO do. What it boils down to is this:
I am only human. And every human has a breaking point.

Still Waters

So many things wash over me on days like this. Like a tidal wave of anxiety that refuses to pass. Once one has subsided another comes crashing down on me. Feelings of inadequacy and helplessness overwhelm me. I know there's a dim light at the end of this tunnel but it seems to be flickering on and off teasing me with the concept that it is, in fact, really there. I want so bad to DO something. There must be someway to be more then I am. Occasionally, I truly believe this. More often then not I say it aloud simply as an attempt to convince myself of it's truth.
Anxiety mostly encircling my children. Having been in an abusive relationship with this man, I have found that over the past year, I have a lot of anger towards him for what he has done to me. a smart-mouthed comment from his three-year old daughter forces him to turn his aggression towards me and begin to point fingers as though I am the culprit. She chases poor little Bumble-cat around the house while he meows in protest and she yells "Bumble! I hate you face Bumble!" Apparently taking that particular phrase to her father was not the wisest of choices. But again, she's a three-year-old child with an attitude. Nothing that ever comes out of her mouth catches me by surprise...(except of course her newest rendition of "If you're Happy and You Know it")  I always have that split moment of guilt where I feel as if I did something wrong, (out of habit of course) followed by sheer rageful hatred and anger. I have to fight downs feelings of aggression and revenge. The overwhelming urges to give back to him what he did to me. I was never a person of retaliation, nor do I want to be. But occasionally his words stab me like a cold blade and the only thing I can do is lie down in a quiet place, do some deep breathing, and remember that no words I can shout at him will ever hurt him the way he did me. Breath in.......breath out.....close my eyes......focus on something beautiful....something calming.....my children....listen to the rain......music.....anything but this.....five years of verbal and physical abuse have manifested into a lifetime of pain and anguish. I will never be the same person I once was. He has seared himself into my mind....his actions,....his words.....I will never forgive....someday I will let go.....but never forgive. I want so bad for now to be the time to move on....but every single time my head begins to hurt,....my eyes begin to twitch....my speech is slurred, my hands fidget,....every time I take my anti-consultants, every time my children say "Mommy's seizing leave her alone" more gasoline is poured on my fire and my hatred burns for him. He is the reason I will never live a normal life. He is the reason my brain is slowly deteriorating. Most days I am perfectly capable of staying calm and collected....the surface is steady and peaceful.........don't step in though.....that under current could hurt.....

Over-powered Positivity

After a minor break-down this morning, I have decided to put this all into a much better perspective. I am determined I want more and better things. I AM going to be okay. I AM going to continue with my life without hesitation. Memory exercises, check-lists, alarms and timers, whatever it takes. Hell, yesterday I found that I have to revert back to infancy to calm myself down! And you know what? I'm DAMN WELL GONNA DO IT!! Something about rubbing my fingers against fabrics makes me feel better. Toted around a blankie for a bit like a toddler until Paul gave me a hanky. Yesterday it felt infantile and stupid. Today I have a new mindset. It helps. I don't care. It's soothing and I will do what it takes to help control seizure activity. Today: Mindful Meditation and wagging around a hanky. Sounds completely ridiculous to anyone reading this....even me. But I am NOT going six to eight months with on-going everyday seizure activity.....I will meditate myself clear to hell if need be. Kids: got this. Money: Got this. Medical issues: Got this. I'm good! And how could anything POSSIBLY bring me down now?? I have the world in my hands waiting for me to take it and nothing could be better. I love my life and everyone in it. I AM stronger because of this. I WILL be self-sufficient. I will prove to everyone and myself that this is possible. That I can be a single mother and a reliable friend. And besides that; if my memory remains the way it is now I can always look on the bright side: every hour is a new adventure!! :)

Wheeeeeeee!!!

"Net Capital Outflow: The link between the two markets. We begin by discussing what we've learned in this chapter so far..."
What have we learned in this chapter so far? That my thoughts are that of a five-year-olds and can not seem to process such large intricate words such as "currency-exchange", "loanable funds" or "nominal exchange rate". The words themselves appear as though they should be simple enough. "Loanable" means able to loan. Funds means money. The two words together SHOULD mean money that is able to be loaned....not in this book. There is no logic to economic definitions and my brain knows this. And today the idea of spouting off repeatable information is beyond my grasp. If I can't understand it, and it wont sink in.....how do I know to repeat it? The test is tomorrow....I've got nothing. I feel like everything I'm try to absorb is simply leaking out my ear. I have that one second light switch that flips on and a split moment of clarity....then it's gone. "What was I thinking?" followed by a loud and obnoxious "DAMNIT!! SHIT!!" (Yes I curse alot I know) No seizure activity today (I don't think) but I feel as though my entire brain has shut down. Where's the on-switch?? Soon (I hope) I will be getting my referral to Stanford for my video EEG and the more I say it to myself the better I feel. "It'll all be over soon.....it'll get better,....the switch will turn back on and it'll all be okay" ....temporary fix for an on-going problem. I'm sitting on an oiled-up teeter-totter and occasionally it rocks in my favor. Other days I slip clean off the other side, and fall in the mud on my ass.....
*gets up*
*brushes off mud*
*jumps back on teeter-totter*
At least it's an interesting ride.......

Gratitude and True Love

Everyday that I log into my blog, I find things to explain, complain, loathe.....today as I sat at my computer browsing facebook I realized something: I may have a LOT of shit going on in my life that drags me down.....but I should absolutely feel blessed. And although I am feeling overwhelmed, worthless, tired and beat down today, I think it's better for me to sit back and appreciate everything I have as opposed to bitching and moaning about what I don't.
    I have more friends then I can count. TRUE friends. Ones who call me JUST to make sure everything is okay. One's who, upon hearing my situations and conflicts become teary eyed and embrace me just to let me know everything will be okay. Friends who do everything in their power to care for me, to make me feel loved and to help me through what is very possibly the most difficult time in my life. Friends who light up and get excited when I walk in the room making me feel so special.
    I have the friends who care for me. The Smarts. They have inconvenienced themselves just to accommodate me and my kids. All four of them make me feel like I can actually be something. They love me for who I am. Although the kids don't always get along with mine, they help in anyway they can. On my bad days Bannie will snuggle up next to me and pet my head and tell me "It's okay Kiera, we love you." I can't help but smile at that one for her nurturing instincts. Casey, on the other hand, has her own way of helping me. By making me laugh. Instead of being the affectionate one, Casey loves to poke fun at me. She knows that by making me laugh at myself; it's not so bad. These kids take care of my kids when need be. And although they do it in very different ways; they take care of me. I wish it could be the other way around...but when my body refuses to cooperate I KNOW I can count on them for help. Although I don't say it nearly enough....I LOVE THOSE GIRLS! I appreciate EVERYTHING they do for me EVERY DAY!! Paul is the one who pushes me. Whether it be yelling at me to get off my ass for my own body's sake, or encouraging me to go back to school or write music for my happiness. He always seems to know what to say and how to say it to motivate me and light the fire under my ass. Ally is....well,.....Ally. LOL She's a little bit of everything. She has sat in waiting rooms for hours on end and told me it was for the best, she's yelled at me, she's encouraged me, .....she's laughed AT me, WITH me.....it's been an interesting ride with these people! I couldn't love them more if they WERE my family.
     I have friends who care about me. Although thousands of miles away, my sweet Shannon still calls and writes me on a regular basis. This woman has been my friend for four years and we have had some interesting times to say the least!! She saw me suffer for two years in a bad relationship, she has seen me struggle with my kids, struggle with the break up and now with this.....and never once given up on me...I love that woman!! Joanie- ten years of friendship came out of me living in Tecumseh, OK for three short months. We clicked so fast and have off and on stayed in contact ever since....I miss her so much but never in a million years dreamed I would've reunited with someone I had known for such a small amount of time. "Sisters" for all intense purposes. :) And now my new friends! At pirate I have Season, Krista, Teresa, Cathi, Richard, and soooooo many others! I LOVE walking in to that place and having to make my way around the room for hugs, and "How are you's" and smiles!! I feel like a star making an appearance on stage! I can't help but be in the best of spirits! And since being introduced to warcraft I have soooo many more people who care about me and manage to make me laugh and smile! Kitty and Hob, Belle! The strangest bunch! It's why I fit in perfectly!!
      I have amazing kids. My children are my everything! And although struggling with ADHD, Kennedy really does just want to help her mommy. She makes her bed now, and cleans her room! She smiles all the time, and never walks by me without a hug and an "I love you Mommy." Chey....well Chey's attitude alone makes me laugh. The new rule is..if mommy cusses Cheyenne slaps me in the mouth. So she will crawl in my lap and smack me then when the words "WHAT IN THE HELL?!" come out of me she gets to smack me again. Gotta admit that kid is too clever for her own good! My girls (all four of them) are what keeps me going. I want to be someone they can be proud of.
       So many people in my life are at bat for me. Never have I EVER had such a large family. And yes I consider EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM MY FAMILY!!

Post-Op Goals

1. To be seizure-free
2. To be independent enough that I can care for my children without fear.
3. Sing
I have spent alot of depressed time thinking about this operation....the "what-if's" are killing me. However positive self-talk and thought process are part of my daily routine now. I WILL come out okay, I WILL be able to function and lead a normal life, I WILL take good care of my children independently. Realistically, however, I may be giving something up to obtain that. I REFUSE to allow this to hinder my musical abilities. I already talked to Paul about this possibility. "I swear to god if I can't sing I don't know what I'll do. Not that I'm GREAT at it but it is my love in life. It's what keeps me from spontaneously combusting. If I can't sing you're teaching me to play an instrument. I don't care what it is but you're teaching me" He laughed, but agreed to my terms. I can't stop. Strength is not one of my best attributes but it will be over this. I can't allow this possibility to become a reality. I will practice every single day, do strengthening exercises, scales, whatever. I want to sing even if I am horrible at it. Tonight is the last night for karaoke. The way I am viewing this is that this may very well be the LAST time I sing in public. I'm not sure how my nerves will handle it but goddamnit I am going to SING. I plan on doing some recordings prior to the surgery just in case. So someday I can listen to it and be proud. I always dreamed of a recording contract. Since I was five years old with ropers and a hairbrush I would see myself on stage with a swarm of people singing along to my songs. As a teenager and now an adult; I know that this will always JUST be a dream. But it wont stop me from enjoying what I love. Music is one of the few things in my life I still have a true passion for. Most things are fads with me. My fire burns strong in the beginning and I'm "go-go-go-go" but quickly dies. This has never been the case with my music. I used to be able to play songs by ear. Pick up the piano, trumpet, clarinet, trombone, oboe, (among many others) and play whatever came to mind.....although I no longer possess this ability....the one thing that has slightly deteriorated but I still have is my voice. Smoking has caused my range to shrink and a slight rasping on those damned high notes, but I can still belt a few when I want to. I may need help...(and alot of work) but come hell or high water I am going to do this and find pride in myself for my accomplishments.