Friday's Child

Pandora's Box

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 22:45:09 GMT

I started weekly therapy (every Tuesday), I believe, in February. Here it is November and I don't feel like I've made any real progress. In fact, if anything, I feel as if I've been backsliding. Therapy has turned out to be somewhat of a Pandora's Box -- releasing all the horror of a past I thought I had either dealt with or forgotten. It's been particularly difficult lately. The only reason I continue is because of what lays at the bottom of the box.

From Tuesday to Tuesday I find joy in many ways. Lately the main source of my joy comes in the form of a seven year old little girl who runs to me, jumps into my arms, wraps her little legs around my waist as I bend her over backwards and plant hundreds of kisses on her little neck. That child doesn't care that I once lived on the street or that I was drug addicted and turning tricks. All she cares about is that I love her and I keep my promises. She has enough ugly truths in her life so the fact that I adore her is all she needs to know. Now that's priceless therapy!

The story of Pandora's Box

In Greek mythology, Pandora was the first woman on earth. Zeus ordered Hephaestus, the god of craftsmanship, to create her and he did, using water and earth. The gods endowed her with many talents; Aphrodite gave her beauty, Apollo music, Hermes persuasion, and so forth. Hence her name: Pandora, "all-gifted".

When Prometheus stole fire from heaven, Zeus took vengeance by presenting Pandora to Epimetheus, Prometheus' brother. With her, Pandora had a box which she was not to open under any circumstance. Impelled by her natural curiosity, Pandora opened the box, and all evil contained escaped and spread over the earth. She hastened to close the lid, but the whole contents of the box had escaped, except for one thing which lay at the bottom, and that was Hope.

Hurricane Ida ... huh?

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 14:39:52 GMT

When Hurricane Ida began to enter the Gulf of Mexico, I admit, I was nervous. It was hard not to be. Few people remember that on a Friday evening in August of 2005, Hurricane Katrina was predicted to head for the Florida panhandle. By Sunday morning all of New Orleans was being told "RUN!!!!" The rest is history. Most of us evacuated. Nearly 2,000 who couldn't or wouldn't evacuate, lost their lives. Many of us lost everything. So, naturally, a hurricane entering the Gulf would make us uneasy. Hurricane Ida is NOT in the same category as Katrina -- literally. Katrina was a monster and gathered strength as she raced through the Gulf. Hurricane Ida is no monster and is already beginning to break apart.

Over night, Hurricane Ida weakened from 105 mph winds to 80 mph winds. She's fighting off wind shear which is making it difficult for her to remain organized. As she approaches the coastline, the waters become much cooler which will also weaken her, probably to tropical storm status.

The lower parishes (those closer to the coastline which are outside of the levee protection area) will be in danger of higher winds and flooding. Here, on the Westbank of New Orleans, we will have rains and increased wind -- tropical storm weather. While it can be severe, it won't be catastrophic or life threatening. Locally, streets flood during any heavy rainstorm which make the streets hard to navigate so just as a precaution, I'll go to the store to get basics -- bread, milk, eggs, fruit, water ... cookies (heh heh).

Mr. Man is being his usual cantankerous self which makes me want to lock him in the closet for his own protection. It's times like this I wonder why I ever felt badly for him. He says "it ain't nuthin"; then later tells me rather condescendingly (and loudly) that people would be damned fools not to be concerned. So, right now my biggest concern is being shut in with this grizzly bear for the rest of the day while Hurricane / Tropical Storm Ida passes by. I'll just have to do the prudent thing and not poke him with a stick. In fact, I'll just stay in my room.

I rather enjoy rain storms. I'm going to get a cup of tea, grab a new historical fiction novel (about Henry the VIII, of course), a battery operated lantern (just in case we lose power), my iphone (to stay connected & listen to music), curl up, isolate and look forward to my therapy session tomorrow morning.

How my heart aches for California. True, the California threat is earthquakes but at least there's no earthquake season six months out of every year.

To those who have emailed me, sent tweets, texts or called -- I appreciate your concern so very much. i'm glad not to be responding with panic. IF we lose power I'll still try to update via Twitter ... if there's anything to update ... which I doubt ... which I guess makes me a damned fool. *sticks tongue out at Mr. Man* Of course, he's in the other room. LOL

OH, by the way ...

NEW ORLEANS SAINTS 8 - 0, BABY!

Get your zombie on ...

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 23:12:04 GMT

Popcap Games has created a flash application that creates a highly customizable zombie avatar to use on Facebook, Twitter or any other social networking site. Kinda fun and actually closer to how I feel today after my flu shot. =^p

You find find the Zombatar here.

If y'all decide to create one, I'd love to see it. You can email it to me or post a link in my comments.

Wreckage of active addiction -- UPDATE

About my last post -- as always, I appreciate the outpouring of support. I want to assure y'all that this incident has not presented sorrow or hardship for me. Sometimes you just have to let go with love which is what I've chosen to do. Life is full of ups and downs ... I focus on the ups and learn from the downs. For me, staying away from using addicts is kinda like avoiding walking barefoot over broken glass.

Today there hasn't been any contact from them which lets me know I made the right decision. Once I said "No drugs and no bail money" they no longer had use for me. I'm sad for them. However, I chose life -- they can as well. Until then I'm still going to make the best of my choice.

Thanks again, y'all!

The wreckage of active addiction ...

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 19:59:20 GMT

My godchild began her recovery just prior to Hurricane Katrina. She attended meetings come hell or high water ... literally. Her life improved. In her early 20s, she rented a beautiful little two bedroom house, had custody of her 3 year old daughter, had a job, a car -- all the benefits of being clean came fast for her ... maybe too fast. It wasn't but a year later she relapsed. That was about three years ago. Now she's using, pregnant and on house arrest ... rather, she was on house arrest.

There and a half hours ago her mother sent me a text, "I need you.". I drove the short distance to their house. I arrived in time to see deputies from the Jefferson Parish Sheriff's Office putting her in handcuffs. As they were leading her away I held her hysterical mother in my arms as my godchild cried over her shoulder, "Mommy! Mommy! I love you, Mommy!" This was the same "child" that not too very long ago called her mother a whore and spat in her face.

I finally found out she had tested dirty -- meaning the results of her urine test revealed she had been using opiates ... heroin. All I could think was "Consequences, consequences, consequences." She knew what would happen if she was caught using.

After the deputies took her away, her mother was inconsolable. What happened next infuriated me ... her mother asked me if I had anything that would relieve her stress -- "Do you have anything that will knock me out." were her first words. I responded, "One, I'm not the dope man. Two, my meds are prescribed for a reason -- because I need them. I take them as directed. I won't participate in your addiction." She clung to me, apologized and cried, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry -- I just need something. I can't do this alone. My baby's gone."

Maybe she did need something to calm her down but I wasn't going to give her anything. I'm angry with her and I'm angry with my godchild. That poor little baby growing inside of her didn't have a choice when my godchild decided to pump heroin through her body. My godchild's daughter didn't get a choice about being left without a mother, perhaps for five years. Her children, born & unborn, will suffer the consequences of her behavior. But my godchild did have a choice and so does her mother -- unfortunately, they choose to use.

My friend kept screaming at me, "She's your godchild!" Was it an accusation that I failed her? Was she passing judgment on me because I wasn't crying? Was it condemnation because I wouldn't take part in the hysteria and drama? I told my friend I love her and left her with her husband and her grandchild.

Last month marked 19 years clean for me. I'm not proud or boastful. I'm grateful. The hurtful thing is that this friend was one of my first sponsors nineteen years ago. She went above and beyond to support me during those scary months I was first getting clean. I want to be there for her now but I can't condone her drug use and can't bear to watch. I've always told her and my godchild if they want help getting clean I'm there for them; otherwise, no.

My mother used to tell me things I didn't understand. Things like, "Sometimes the best answer is: do nothing." or "Sometimes the best way to be there for someone is by not being there." Now I understand. For now, until they decide they want recovery, I have to stay away. I admit being around that mentality could be dangerous for me. I'm certain I've another relapse in me but I'm not entirely certain I can survive it and find recovery again -- I hope they do.

Unconscious Mutterinngs ... just to let y'all know I'm still alive

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 23:35:19 GMT

Werewolf :: Wolfman Jack -- DJ from .. erm, when I was ... younger.
Jim :: jimmy a lock (I didn't say that officer)
2x4 :: a devise used as a deterrent
Unruly :: behavior calling for the use of a 2x4
Component :: Stereo components
Prolific :: what an inspired poet becomes
Wrestler :: wrestling with emotions
Huh? :: *blink, blink - blank stare*
Dolls :: what my friends are - living dolls.
Super! :: super human powers

You can mutter too - here or in my comments.

Out of the frying pan into the fire ...

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 20:56:07 GMT

It's hard to know what to say ... even embarrassing. There have been so many changes. Unfortunate drama.

I was terribly unstable emotionally which took it's toll on everyone around me. The tension escalated until it erupted into drama and I was forced by circumstances to flee the haven I fled to for safety. How ironic is that? I lost the only valuable possession that survived Katrina -- ruined beyond repair -- once a valuable antique, now worthless. I don't know how it happened. I suspect it was the unfortunate victim of the fallout. I can't see any other way it could have gotten so damaged. All I can say is oh well -- it's just a thing. Not anything I want to grieve over -- bigger fish to fry -- bigger concerns to care about.

The biggest loss ... I lost a friend. The who, how, what and why isn't unimportant. It's over. People will say it will be OK but I'm fairly certain that's not the case. Truthfully, I don't think it would be in either of our best interest to pursue reconciliation. I'm not sure it ever will be. Time will tell but that's not my biggest concern right now.

Where am I? Limbo.

Oddly, the person who came to my rescue was Mr. Man. I'm living out of a suitcase in the spare bedroom of his condo. He's been supportive, loving, caring ... sober. I cried for days. Uncharacteristically he comforted me and apologized for his part in the situation.

During the moving I did something that aggravated my siatic nerve. I've been in horrible pain. Mr. Man has been taking care of me -- something he never did the entire eleven years we were together. He tells me he didn't think I'd leave. He talks about how empty his life was without me. He says he still wants to try. I tell him I still don't trust him. I tell him I won't be pressured and the fact that I have nowhere to go at present doesn't mean we'll reconcile. I tell him I'm most interested in getting me better physically and emotionally. In fact, it's my ONLY concern. It's time for to take care of me. I won't allow anyone to deter me. I WILL get better ... with help.

This last event has me feeling vulnerable, defective, degraded and humiliated but not defeated. Although, I am concerned that I'm so broken not even my best friend was able to stand me. Speaks volumes, I think.

Honestly, I haven't decided anything other than I want to continue therapy. I'm safe for now but in my heart and mind I'm lost and have no idea where I'm going. BUT ... as my mother always told me, "In everything a blessing" -- I just can't see the blessing in this yet but one day my mouth will fly wide open, I"ll gasp and then say, "Oh, now I see!"

California is still a dream. I'll never lose hope ... ever!

By the way, y'all are responsible for lifting up my heart and the corners of my mouth. The joy of living ... y'all are very much a part of that joy for me. Thank you!

I messed it all up ...

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 15:41:35 GMT

I don't have interent access here except by way of "my" wireless" router still connected at Mr. Man's place. Sometimes the signal quality is excellent and sometimes poor or the ever mysterious "limited". Day before yesterday I tried to edit my blog and then lost connection which totally messed up plenty of things between the <body> and </body> tags. =^p

So blogwise some things have changed -- some things are missing. I'll need to work on it. Maybe a new layout is called for? I guess it will give me something to do while I'm trying not to think of Mr. Man, how he's doing or how he'll ever survive without me.

I'm sure he'll be just fine without me but there's this tiny, teeny, weensy part of me that wishes for his misery without me. I can hear my sister saying, "How old are you?" because it probably sounds a bit juvenile. But there it is ... the awful truth ... I kinda sorta miss him and hope he's miserable without me.

He was out until the wee hours last night so he's probably not miserable. More like he's enjoying the freedom to drink his life away. Funny that I'm still in the condo complex but I never see him -- this is a good thing. I don't need to see him. Seeing him would only tug at my heart. I've been with him nearly twelve years. Yes, he was abusive but he wasn't abusive ALL the time and it's those sweet parts of him I miss. It's gonna take time. I know I have to go through this pain and separation anxiety -- there's no way over it, under it or around it -- I have to go through it ... one day at a time. Today is day three.

me = horse

him = burning barn

Friday, don't ran back into the barn!

past = darkness

future = bright

Friday, go into the light!

Out

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:37:45 GMT

Yes, I am out.

Out of patience.

Out of the condo.

Out of the relationship.

Out of my mind scared.

Spaced out & out of it.

Out of tears.

My therapist says I'm courageous and that since I'm so resilient, I'll bounce back sooner than I think. I'm glad that's what her crystal ball tells her because my crystal ball is muddy and murky.

I'm having conflicting feelings. Relief and yet regret. Peace and yet deep-seated discontent. I thought I would feel joyful and hopeful but .... no. He says, "This isn't over. This is just a separation. I'm going to be the man you need me to be and then you can come home." I told him he had to become the man he wanted and needed to be with or without me. His response was something like, "I want to be the man you need me to be."

I wanted to tell him I was tired of promises. I wanted to tell him that actions speak louder than words -- at which point I realized I should take my own advice. Actions do speak louder than words so by my actions, I said goodbye. While he was across the river "tending to business", I moved the last of my things out. I didn't cry or even take one last lingering look. I locked the door and left.

I did do some stupid things before I left. No, I didn't write my name on the bottom of all his dishes or write a note in Magic Marker on the mirror or tuck little notes away in every cupboard or plant pictures of me under his pillow, in his sock drawer, etc. What I did do was I stocked the freezer with prepared meals, changed the bed, did the laundry, hung a new shower curtain in the bathroom I left empty and I set the DVR to record his favorite shows. A caretaker to the very end. It's what I do best, I guess. Now it's my turn to take care of me.

Several things weren't done -- those hurdles I spoke of post before last. The utilities were never transferred into his name because although we've been together for nearly twelve years and he's been an authorized user on all my accounts, they required a deposit from him on every utility. To make a long story short, I left them in my name, told him he would have to give me the money at the beginning of next month and have them transferred. He has one more month reprieve. If he doesn't come through, then I'll have the services turned off. "Some people" have passed judgment on me for being such a sucker but I'm following my higher sense of right.

I'm emotional and surprised by things I'm feeling ... the grieving process begins. Several people have abandoned me because I'm so vulnerable and broken. Honestly, I'm too hurt by what I've just done to be hurt by the abandonment. One day I'll be a worthy friend again ... said the Little Red Hen.

My eternal gratitude to those who have and are still supporting and encouraging me. Y'all have cared for me, nurtured me, showered me with love and because of y'all, I will blossom.

I've been waiting so long.
To be where I'm going,
In the sunshine of your love.

I'm out ...

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 02:25:46 GMT

Exhausted. More tomorrow.

The best laid plans of mice and men

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 23:41:43 GMT

The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

It's just not going as planned or hoped for. Why the insurmountable hurdles? Why?

One step forward ...

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 18:07:39 GMT

It's hard to respond to y'all who have encouraged, supported and comforted me when I've no good news to offer. Sometimes though any news is good news and I've some news that indicates a little step forward.

I have a place to go. It's not far enough away and not the most ideal situation but it's a place to be where I'll be safe. He had agreed to me staying until I could "get my act together" to have all my things moved to California -- maybe two weeks. He promised I would be safe. Another promise down the drain since he made the promise in the morning and that same evening came home very drunk He wasn't abusive but neither was he kind.

Without telling him anything at all, I made a few calls and finally worked out a plan with my best friend. I went to therapy yesterday morning and told my therapist what was going on. Instead of encouraging me to "save the twelve year relationship" as she had done before, she spoke the words I'd been longing to hear anyone say, "You've made your feelings known and did so in a loving, caring way. It's evident he's not interested in making an effort. It's time to get out and you can do so knowing you've done all you can do." Why I should need "permission" from my therapist is beyond me, but it helped.

After therapy I went to storage and loaded up all my suitcases and more empty boxes. When he saw the suitcases he seemed a little taken aback. I didn't say anything but since then I've been telling him things we need to do regarding certain items and a few bills he'll need to take over that we hadn't mentioned before.

Today he's across the river again and SAYS he'll be back early but I don't have much faith in anything he says any more. I've decided that if he's not home at a reasonable time I'll not spend the night here. If he's home at a reasonable time and drunk, I'll not spend the night here. Then everything will kick into high gear and I'll be out in the shortest time possible.

I know the grieving period will come but at this moment I feel I have only one purpose ... to keep myself safe.

Thank y'all so much for continuing to check on me. Your caring, concern, thoughts, prayers, kindness -- ALL appreciated so very much. It's amazing to me to feel so pitiful and yet y'all haven't turned away from me during this painful time. True, some have given up on me because my life has been "too negative" but I can't worry about them. I look forward to being around a lot more after I'm out of here and then I can shower the love on y'all as I once did. Hopefully the pain of a failed twelve year relationship won't consume me for too long. Just trying to be realistic ... I know that no matter how right this decision is, the pain will come ... but I also know I'll be OK.

Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 20:17:28 GMT

I re-read the my last post and realized ... I don't know this man I've lived with for nearly twelve years. However there are several things I do know that make me wonder what sort of madness is going on in this man's mind when he's drunk.

First, I believe he believes I think I'm better than he is somehow because I used to have money, I've traveled and I've experienced much more of the world than he has. I don't think that at all. In fact, I think much less of myself because of how I threw that all away with drugs and alcohol. Since he's doing exactly the same thing, he certainly wouldn't see my actions that way.

The other night he saw me eating my salad with my fingers -- I was just picking at it really. When I saw him looking at me I said, "I know, this would embarrass you which is why I don't do it while we're out." Well, we rarely go out together -- I can't remember the last time we went visiting or out to eat or to a movie. So when he's drunk he repeats this trivial incident with, "You're a total embarrassment! I don't care if you did see someone in Europe eating their salad with their fingers; here in The States civilized people eat salad with a fork." I don't respond to him but I'm thinking in my head, "Where is that coming from?" a) I've never been to Europe b) I've never eaten my salad with my fingers in public c) civilized people? Do civilized people get drunk and come home acting like a mad man?

Second ... all that bravado about being in jail before and "it ain't nuthin'. He was arrested ONCE for DUI. Slept it off in the drunk tank, went to court for it and had to pay a fine and perform so many hours of community service -- picking up trash in front of the courthouse. That was years before I met him so in the past eleven years he hasn't been in jail.

In the mind of this drunk man, reality becomes wildly distorted and I get punished for things I never did or said. When he's sober, he's remorseful and sweet and says things like, 'I would NEVER hit you!" Yeah, OK.

More bad news this morning ... once again the place where I was going to stay until I could fly to California has been removed from the equation. If only I could stay with family it would make my life so much easier but ... no such luck. I actually don't even want to bring my grief into anyone's home while I'm transitioning. Many people feel the same way I do ... i did this myself. I chose to stay. Well, now I'm choosing to leave. Maybe it's just as well I can't ask anyonoe to help me because i don't want to feel ingratiated.

How many women have been trapped in a relationship because they had nowhere to go? I'm going to do this somehow. I won't be defeated ... not after everything else I've been through. I've been through far too much to give up now.

There isn't enough compassion in the world ...

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 01:45:52 GMT

He was yelling at me, standing so close to me I could feel the warmth of his breath and spittle on my cheek. "I'll cave your face in." he screamed. I calmly and pointedly said, "Back off of me." He came even closer and spat at me, "Go ahead, bitch, jump off!" I didn't move and wondered what the hell 'jump off" meant. I was thinking how ghetto, gangsta and guttural he gets when he's drunk. I didn't respond but didn't move or break eye contact either. He kept screaming, "C'mon! Jump off, bitch!". "Do you want to go to jail?" I asked trying not to sound too condescending. "I've been to jail before, bitch, it don't mean nuthin'."

I was surprised that he finally backed off and simply went to bed. I wasn't scared ... at least not once I heard him snoring. I made up my bed on the sofa but couldn't sleep. All I could think of was how stupid I am. Weeks ago I was walking out the damned door and I let him talk me into staying. I didn't want to leave him financially unable to pay all the utilities. He told me he was going to get it together. I'm guessing he was hoping that he could talk me into staying permanently. It wasn't going to happen but I think he thought he could make it all up to me. I think alcoholics have a special talent for deluding themselves.

Well, the end of the month is nearly here and I'm ready to move on now, whether he's financially able to support himself or not. There's not enough compassion, caring or love in the world that could make me stay now. The bulk of my belongings are in storage. He never did follow through with transferring all the utilities into his name so I'm going to force the issue to get the rest of that done. He also told me last night that he wasn't going to pay me the money he borrowed from me because I received the benefit from it as well. Then he said that it would be worth the $400 to get rid of me. He paid me $200 and still owes me $600. I'm probably gonig to have to take the loss and consider that it will be well worth the $600 loss to be free of this insanity.

Maybe this all had to happen. I had to get good and fed up so I wouldn't feel bad about leaving him or worry about what's going to happen to him because as of this moment I'm not worried about what's going to happen him. I just want a new start.

A day of loss ...

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 20:57:21 GMT

Six year old loss ...

Six years ago today, we lost Mama. Six years later it still hurts.

Recent loss -- an open letter to a loved one ...

I know you don't agree with everything I say or believe in. I know that sometimes you're so passionate about what you believe that you stop listening to me or you don't hear what I'm saying, only what you think I'm saying. You may be angry with me ... honestly, I don't know what you're feeling or going through. I don't know because you don't tell me. Maybe it's not your intent, but it feels like you're withdrawing your love from me. I try not to believe that but it's difficult when you leave me twisting in the wind with my own thoughts which at times are not my friend. The day that our disagreement took place should have been a happier day. Our conversation ended badly. Since then, not a word. If you're intent is to hurt me ... if you intent is to punish me ... you've succeeded. If that isn't your intent, then what is? How can I possibly know if you don't tell me?

Honoring my mother on my birthday ...

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 06:34:55 GMT

Today is my sixth birthday without my mother. When my mother was living I would send her flowers. It was more than my birthday ... it was my mother's birthing day. My mother suffered unimaginable physical and emotional pain in order to carry me, bear me and raise me. She didn't have to have me -- but she did. She didn't have to keep me -- but she did. I've always felt it was important to honor her ... I still do. So, once again, I am going to pay homage to my mother.

Mama was a storyteller. She told plenty of stories about my childhood. Some of them were down right embarrassing. There was one story that I never tired of hearing ... that's the story of my birth.

What follows is the story that my mother told me every year on my birthday, for fifty years, until her passing.

************

She was still young but somehow she felt very old and tired. She was only 32 but here she was abandoned by her husband with four small children - one born only hours ago. She was alone in the hospital room. The door to her room was closed and it made her feel more alone than ever. It seemed to her that considering the circumstances there really wasn't much to look forward to on the other side of that door. How was she going to make it alone with four babies?

She noticed that the window on the opposite side of the room was open. A gentle breeze playfully blew the pale yellow curtains around. All of a sudden she wanted to feel the breeze on her face. She felt as if she needed it. Maybe a breath of fresh air would give her a fresh outlook. Maybe the feel of the cool air on her skin would bring her out of this dark fog she was in.

She sat up on the side of the bed. Every inch of her body ached even though labor was short and delivery incredibly fast. As she was coming up in the elevator to the maternity ward she just knew that the baby was going to drop out on the elevator floor. She kept lamenting, "It's coming, the baby is coming!" The elevator operator, just a young woman herself kept yelling back, "Hold it, hold it!" She had always had a sense of humor and it came out even in times of distress. She turned to the elevator operator, grabbed her by the lapel of her uniform and screamed in her face, "You hold it, I've been holding it for nine months!" By the time they reached the maternity ward the elevator operator looked worse for the ride than the laboring mother did.

When the doors opened her sister helped her out of the elevator and started yelling, "We need help, the baby is coming NOW!!!!" From out of nowhere came a nurse with a gurney followed by a herd of nurses and a doctor. They put her on the gurney and rolled through the double doors of the delivery room. Her sister told her that there had been a man just outside the delivery room smoking a cigarette and that the delivery was so quick that when the nurse came out to announce the arrival of the baby, he was smoking the same cigarette. She wasn't sure if her sister was exaggerating but it had been the quickest and easiest delivery of all of the four.

She slipped off the bed but held on to steady herself. Still holding on to the bed she stepped closer to the window. All of a sudden she was even more tired than before. She knew she didn't have the strength to get back in bed and wasn't sure she could make it to the chair by the window - she was too weak to even call out for help.

"Damn him!" she thought, "He should be here. Why, why, why ..." she began to sob. She didn't know why she was alone, why no one else was there - she didn't even know what day or time it was although there was daylight streaming through the window. The window .... she wanted so badly to make it to the window -- the breeze, the sunshine ... yes, they would rejuvenate her, elevate her mood and outlook.

With every step she took it became a little easier but still painful. Finally she made it to the window. With the last ounce of energy and strength she had left she opened the window wider. The breeze rushed in and startled her. She lifted her face letting the sun and the breeze play on her tear stained face. Closing her eyes she breathed in the fresh air slowly as if it would somehow soothe her shattered heart - but it didn't. The sadness was covering her and it was heavy ... so heavy.

She opened her eyes and began to contemplate if she should just sit in the chair or try to get back to the bed. All she wanted to do was lay back down and sleep. She thought to herself, "No wonder he left me - I can't even manage what I'm going to do in just a few minutes let alone manage a house, marriage and a family." She was being hard on herself as she always was. She was always striving to better herself but it was never enough for him.

He was a musician. He was good at what he did. He was olive complected, had smokey dark eyes and a smile that mesmerized plenty of women. Yes, "the women" ... all his women. She couldn't compete with those backstage hussies is what she thought but she wasn't aware of her own beauty -- he had broken her spirit, reigned in her confidence. She could only imagine what her mother was going to say now, after she had warned her not to marry him. But they had been high school sweethearts. She had loved him all her life. He had loved her like crazy once. The tears sprang from her eyes of their own volition.

As she stood there hanging on to the window sill she looked down through her tears. What floor was she on, she wondered? The second floor? The third floor? Would a jump from the third or second floor kill her? At that moment that thought took over and pushed everything else out of her head. Yes, jump. Jumping would put an end to all the pain and the humiliation. Yes, jump. She considered that perhaps a jump from this height wouldn't kill her - perhaps she should wait until she could make it to the roof - surely a jump from the hospital roof would end it. But if she waited someone might guess and stop her somehow. She thinks that if she leans out the window and falls head first it will break her neck or the head injury alone would kill her. But what if she didn't fall head first? What if she fell legs first and only broke her legs? Then someone would have to take care of her and she'd be a burden. No. She knew burden - she didn't want to be a burden. "Quit thinking about it, " she tells herself, "just do it, just jump." She closes her eyes and began to lean out the window ...

The door to the room swings open causing a blast of air to blow through the window. It startles her and she instinctively turned around. The nurse in the crisp white uniform hurried over to her. "Hope, what are you doing out of bed? You should be resting! Let's get you back in bed." She's too weak to resist. As the nurse helps her back to bed she begins to cry. The nurse doesn't know she's crying because she missed her chance -- just like she messed up her marriage she messed up her only way out. After tucking her in bed the nurse shivered. "It's cold in here, dear. Are you trying to catch you death?" She half laughed through her tears and thought, "Umm hmmm, that's it, catch my death -- if only." As the nurse closed the window the young woman continued to weep.

The door swung open again and brought with it a nurse carrying a bundle. She handed the bundle to the first nurse and quietly exited the room. "I have someone here who wants to see you." the nurse says in a sing song voice. "No" she said, "Not now, no." "Oh c'mon" says the nurse, "how can you say no to this? Everyone is saying she's the prettiest baby in the nursery." The nurse placed the bundle on the womans chest and pulled back the blanket.

She looked down into her child's face ... a beautiful face. Her complexion was olive, like her father's. She had black tufts of hair, her eyes were wide and round and her nose was tiny and pointed up just a bit like an old shoe. She felt something familiar - a little tug at her heart. The child looked up at her and even though babies can't see very far when they're first born she felt as if this child was staring straight into her soul. Yes, she was beautiful. She folded back the blanket and counted ten fingers and ten toes. The baby began to cry. "It's a little chilly in here. She may be cold." The nurse said. The young mother wrapped the blanket around the baby, brought the child up to her shoulder and began to pat the baby gently on her bottom.

The child quieted down. The mother cradled the baby in her arms again so she could see her baby's face. She wiped the tears from the baby's eyes and began to coo, "Yes, my darling. Yes my baby girl. Don't worry, Mommy isn't going anywhere. Mommy won't leave you. Don't worry, precious girl. Mommy's here. Mommy's here." As she cooed to her child she knew that she could never ever leave this precious baby or any of her other three babies. They needed her and she was going to find a way to take care of them. She would show everyone - she was going to make it. She was going to take care of her babies. As she continued to coo the baby's eyes began to close. The nurse tip-toed over and indicated that she would take her. The young mother shook her head indicating she would like to hold her for a bit longer.

Another nurse entered the room. The nurse at the bedside put her fingers to her lips to stop the entering nurse and walked quietly to the door. Both the nurses stood there for a second watching mother and child ... a touching sight.

As the nurses left the room and quietly closed the door behind them they hear the mother continue to coo, "Mommy's here. Mommy's here."
Years later when the baby was able to understand, her mother told her about that day ... and how on that day she saved her mother's life.

That's how it happened June 20th, 1953 - the day after I was born. As I sit here and remember my mother I can almost feel her arms around me and hear her whisper in my ear as she did that day and all her life, "Mommy's here. Mommy's here" and I know that she is.

************

I not only post this story every year but I read it as well, along with the rest of y'all. It's important and reminds me that I am my mother's child ... therefore, even though she's no longer here with us, I'll never lose her ... Hope will live in my heart forever.

I know my mother is always with me ... but GOD! how I miss her! I miss her so very much.

Happy Birthing Day, Mama. We struggled, you and I, but in the end all that mattered was the love. Thank you for all you gave to me and continue to give me every single day. I love you, Mama.

Ain't love grand?

Tue, 26 May 2009 22:25:24 GMT

I am in love ... deeply in love. He's changed my entire world and though I can't be with him now I know that one day soon I'll hold him in my arms, stare into his eyes and sigh. Every nuance of his beautiful face -- the brightness of his eyes, the color in his cheeks, the up-turned corners of his mouth -- will make my heart spill over with love. I waited for him forever, it seems. Now that he's here I look forward to spending the rest of my life showing him how very much he's loved by me and will always, always, always, have a home in my heart and my arms.

Who is this incredible person? Feast your eyes on the one who has stolen my heart.

Another time, another place ... [edited]

Tue, 26 May 2009 18:14:04 GMT

My life has been so bizarre and amazing. Between the periods of full blown addiction and all that that implies, there were some pretty "normal", fun, innocent periods of my life. I found a picture while I was moving all my belongings from one storage place to another and back again. It was taken in Big Bear, California. I was in my early twenties. By that time I had already been a heroin addict, lived on the streets, had sold myself for a fix, cleaned up, got married, filed for divorce six months later, got a decent job and started dating a normal kinda guy.

My first date with Michael was camping in the desert. I had never been camping before and I promise you I had never, ever squatted over a hole in darkness of the desert in the chilly night air. It wasn't what I was used to but I loved the fact that I didn't have to be anyone but who I was and he liked me just like that.

Later on in our relationship Michael took me with him on a fishing trip with friends. I didn't get to fish that trip -- didn't know how but I fell in love nonetheless. Several weeks later he took me back to Big Bear, just the two of us, where I caught my first rainbow trout. I was a happy girl -- the picture proves it.

click to enlarge

**I played around with the picture a bit because it was really faded - using a grahics FX program made some of the lines stand out better.

My relationship with Michael didn't last but a year or so but it was a wonderful time ... one of the few times in my life when I felt "normal" - when smiles and laughter were genuine, when no one looked down their nose at me, when I didn't have to be all glammed up when I was with a man. It was a simpler more innocent time for me even though I had experienced so much before that time. I had no idea I was going to go back to that life again and again and again.

If I only cared ONLY about myself, I'd be back in California by now. I long for a simpler life and I miss so very much Monterey / Carmel / Big Sur, the Kern River, Big Bear Lake and fishing. I often wonder if I'll ever find a way to put myself first without feeling completely cruel and selfish. In the meantime, memories like this help and I do have some lovely, lovely memories.

EDIT ---> OMG! Someone just pointed out to me that I still wear big belts and SHORT shorts. ROFLMAO It's over thirty years later! Am I behind the times or did big belts and short shorts come back? It's not all bad though ... I'm still the same size ... but is CERTAINLY doesn't look like that! LOL I can't quit laughing at myself!

Those were the days, my friends ...

Sun, 17 May 2009 22:47:03 GMT

When transferring all my belongings to storage ... then to the new storage space only to have to lug it all back to the old storage space, I found a box of pictures and documents I thought had been lost in the flood waters of Hurricane Katrina. What a treasure! Along with other treasures in the box I found the hospital bill for my birth. Amazing how little it cost back then!

click to see full image

The image shows my daddy's initials written in a different color ink and different hand than the rest of the bill. From other samples of my dad's handwriting I've seen I believe that my father filled in his initials on the bill when he made a partial payment. I'd like to think this is evidence that my father really did show up at some point when I was born. Seeing as I found this bill amongst my mother's things that means this bill is something both my mama and my daddy touched ... when we were still a family and that makes it even more special to me.

Yes, things ARE just things. And while things make very good goods, but make very bad gods, I'm still truly grateful to have these things.

Yet another "joy of living" moment. Further proof that though my life may be a mess in some areas there is plenty of joy to be found in my life. Which is what all of y'all are -- joy in my life.

Rain Day Mutterings

Sun, 17 May 2009 21:48:31 GMT

Ah yes ... rain in New Orleans ... par. With Hurricane Season beginning in about two weeks, soon it will rain nearly every single day clear through the end of the season - the end of November. I'll certainly still be in New Orleans to see the start of the season but hopefully will be preparing my new home for the Christmas Season in California come December 2009. *crossing fingers* I'm so disgusted with the situation here, I won't even get into it right now. Sooooo ... let's mutter.

"Rules are, there are no rules." There are no right or wrong answers. Don't limit yourself to one word responses; just say everything that pops into your head. Here we go ...

I say ... and you think ... ?

Vex :: Vex, Vex, bo-bex, Banana-fana fo-fex, Fee-fi-mo-mex, VEX! That's the first thing that popped into my head, really. Yes, my head is a scary place to be. My second thought was: Men!
Relapse :: Lapsed again ... like deja vu only past tense.
Twinkle :: " ... a twinkle in your daddy's eye." Is that supposed to be subtle because all I can think of is my dad giving my mom flirty eyes.
Crawls :: "She walks, she talks, she crawls on her belly like a reptile. Just one thin dime, just one tenth of a dollar. Step right up!" Intro to Little Egypt by the Coasters. * at 3:16 on YouTube Video *
Optimistic moment :: aka Scarlett O'Hara moment, "After all, tomorrow is another day."
Cage :: cagey = crafty, clever, shrewd
Superwoman :: Oops, is my big red "S" showing? *blush*
Personal :: as in, "I'm calling the organization of the United Brotherhood of It's None of Your Damn Business!"
Vapor :: It's a Southern thing. We don't sweat, we glisten which is why we carry a hankie with which to dab our upperlip and forehead. We don't get feel faint or dizzy, flushed or embarrassed -- we get the vapors at which time we fan ourselves with our handy little fan which we keep in our purse right next to our hankie. Except for the men in the South. The men in the South sweat like an ice cold glass on a hot day and when they get the vapors, you don't want to be walking behind them. =^p
Grocery store :: Never go without a list or you'll walk out with the milk you went for plus $153.00 worth of impulse buys.

Mutter with me, won't you? You can mutter publicly at Unconscious Mutterings or your own blog or you can mutter here in my comments. Whether you do or don't, thanks for stopping by

Let's mutter, shall we?

Sun, 10 May 2009 05:55:10 GMT

Some fun with free association courtesy of LunaNina @ Unconscious Mutterings.

"Rules are, there are no rules." There are no right or wrong answers. Don't limit yourself to one word responses; just say everything that pops into your head.

Again :: begin again
Shower :: "Drip, drip, drop little April shower ... " song from Disney's Bambi
Flirting :: *bats eyelashes & smiles coyly*
Moving on :: MOVING OUT!
Rachel :: That cooking lady
Chips :: cow ... kinda scary I thought of cow chips before potato chips =^p
Texting :: Put the phone down and DRIIIIIIVE!!!!!!!
Feel better :: After yelling at the texting driver? Yes, a little.
Cashmere ::yummmy soft
Sucked :: husband #1 sucked, husband #2 sucked even more and husband #3 sucked worst of all ... but what is a woman to do? Can't live with 'em and can't kill 'em and hide 'em in the closet when they tick you off.

You know how I love it when you mutter ... you can mutter there or feel free to mutter in my comments.