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October Sunshine

It's way too nice out there to be in here

but I have to make apple crisp and chicken pot pie to bring to my parents and do the laundry

at least I got to spend most of the day out there yesterday

I got on the tractor, figured out how to run it by myself, mowed, then hooked up the trailer and tooled around moving rocks and bags of mulch. So much to do.

I need to start tracking my calories again because I am exploding in size and mind.

I also need to clean and pick up the cluttered house.

but Im not doing it today.

weekends are too short.


Didn't do any em dr tuesday. Instead we talked. and yes, shaun thinks that the way the pain in my neck and shoulders suddenly disappeared after being there for years and years definitely has Everything to do with the therapy and at the end of the session he asked if he could give me a hug. We talked about the near future with my parents and the problems that could arise and ways to deal with them. He told me about a 'grain of truth' way to deal with my mother when she starts spouting off her putridness and hatred. And that's not to argue with her, or even agree with her or say I wish I could help. Instead I'm just to pick the grain of truth in what she is saying and respond to that as an observation. ie: when she bitches about my father I could say, Yes, I see that it bothers you. and when she says she wishes she could go to bed and not wake up I would say, Yes that's what you want to happen, etc.

I am hopeful I can do that. I'm not seeing him this week because he didn't have any 4pm appts but Im seeing him next week. I am sure there will be more em dr in my future but I think for the most part we got to the heart of it, which of course was my mother.

And it's not that I didn't know that it was her. It was the little girl inside of me that didn't understand that had to be told, shown. Our mind is an amazing thing. I am thankful for Fran cine sha pi ro for discovering this amazing method of the rap y.

No school tomorrow. kelse is coming down for a maja daja day. she wants to plan something for jakes 25th bd next month. I havent seen her in over a week and only talked to her twice. The space is good for both of us.

Court's got drama again. he's been written up twice at work and got the one more time and youre fired letter. He just spent a ton of money on a new appt. he sent me the letter. the first time he was ONE minute late. the second time he was TWO minutes late.

He's wondering if it has anything to do with a conversation he had in the OR a few weeks ago. He made a few comments about Tru mp and he said the OR went quiet. Then one of them said, Court, you do realize that everyone in this room voted for tr ump. And he thought they were joking and made a remark. but they weren't joking and it was very awkward.

anyway, he's written up for insubordination. and I told him he better be early from now on. there are no more hospitals on the island he could work at. and, whether it is one or two minutes or twenty, their rules are their rules and he needs to follow them.

Meeting Jo-ann and Danny soon to go on a foliage tour in the rain.

This Sad Child

This Little Girl.

She sits on the toilet in the bathroom off the livingroom. She hasn't bothered to turn on the light. It's a dreary Saturday afternoon in February and she scrunches her toes into the ugly, yellow-gold shag carpet beneath her feet as she pees. There's no school next week and she's going to spend it with Gramma and Grampa. Thinking that happy thought, she reaches for the toilet paper and wipes, catches her breath at what she sees in her hand. Blood! Oh no, oh no! What should she do? Is she sick? Is she dying? Quickly, one handed, she pulls her pants up, and fearfully exits the room. Mom takes the toilet paper from her and drags her back to the bathroom, making her wipe again and again.
  "What's wrong? What's wrong with me?"
  "You've got your period."
  "My period?"
  "Women bleed. Once a month. It means they've become a woman."
The little girl shakes her head back and forth, back and forth. She stands wide-eyed and oppositional as her mother pulls a box from the cupboard and pulls out the long white thing. She's seen them before, watched from the corner of her eye as they got tucked between her mother's legs. Once she'd even fished one out of the small blue garbage can and carefully unwound the toilet paper that wrapped it into a snug bundle. There'd been blood on it. Dark, reddish-brown blood. It smelled bad.
She shook her head again. "I don't want to wear that."
"You have to or get blood on your pants."
"But I don't want it." She couldn't have it. She couldn't be a woman. She didn't want to be a woman. She wanted to be a boy. She wanted to play matchboxes in the sandbox with Frankie and Peter without a shirt on like they always did. She wanted to climb trees and play cowboys and indians. She was always the indian brave. She knew how to make her own bow and arrows from sticks and string. Did this mean she could never turn into a boy?
Her mother was pushing the pad between her legs. It was huge. It went all the way from the front to the back of her underware. She waited as her mother fastened it with safety pins on the front and the back of her underware and then snugged her pants up. The thing felt thick and bulky between her legs. Wrong.
"Ill take some of the padding out of the other ones," her mother said. "To make them smaller."
Panic flashed through her whole body. She didn't want smaller ones, she wanted NONE. None at all. She started to cry. "Please don't tell anyone," she begged, following her mother from the room. Then another thought hit her. "Gramma and Grampas. . ." She couldn't bear the thought of them knowing, of them seeing her with the. . . the thing.
"You don't have to go," her mother said as she went back to her housekeeping.
"Please don't tell Daddy. Please don't tell anyone! Please." The word was almost a wail.
"I won't," her mother said. "I promise."
The little girl went to her room. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her hands and cried silently. "Why me? Why?" She wanted the world to end. She wanted to die. This was the worst possible thing that could happen She stood up and tried to see the back of her pants. What if someone could see the pad? What if they found out? She opened her bureau drawer and pulled out pair after pair of underware. If she put them all on, maybe that would hide the big bulge. Still crying, she undressed and then dressed herself again. 10 pairs. She'd wear ten pairs and no one would know. But she couldn't let her mother know she was wearing all her underware. Her mother would be mad. She tiptoed out into the diningroom, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She could hear her mother talking. In her bedroom. With the door closed.
She crept into the livingroom, tried to hear from there. It came to her suddenly that her mother was on the phone. She hadn't heard it ring. Her heart pounding, she went to the kitchen and climbed up on the stool. Very carefully-- she'd done it before-- she lifted the receiver.
"Well, she is young, but that happens. How old were you?"
"I don't even remember," her mother said. "But not this young. She's only eight."
"Well, I was 14. I was out with friends and the blood got all over the back of my pants. I was so embarrased. I didn't even feel it. They pointed it out to me."
"It's a fact of life," her mother said. "I just didn't expect it this soon. Do you think I should call the doctor?"
The little girl didn't hear the answer. She returned the phone to the hook, softly. She couldn't let her mother know she was listening. Her world was spinning. She promised! She promised not to tell and the first thing she did was call Sue. Frankie's mom KNEW! She could never go over there to play again. She could never go over there at all. No one was supposed to know! She tried to stop the tears. Her mother hated it when she cried. She'd say, "Stop crying Little Girl, or I'll give you something to cry about."

* * *

I go back. I close my eyes and I go back to that little girl. I sit beside her in the bed as she stares at her hands and asks, "Why me?"

I tell her that it happens to every girl and even though it feels like the end of the world, it is not. I tell her that she is still her. Nothing has changed, she can still be who ever she wants to be, can do whatever she wants to do. I tell her that know one will know by looking at her and that no adult woman will care because all women have gone through the same thing she has. I say that sometimes girls even WANT to get it.

She looks at me incredulously and I smile. "It's true," I say. "They're stupid, but it's true."

Then I take her hand I tell her we're going out. We'll go to the store and we'll get some pads that are the right size for her so she doesn't have to worry that other people can see them through her pants and underware. And, I say, "Then we'll do something You want to do. We can go to a playground, or a store, or have lunch or soda or even icecream at the counter at the five and dime." And I tell her she can talk to me about it, when ever she is scared, when ever she has a question. All she has to do is ask. And I will never tell. I will keep my promise.

* * *

My mother is next. Talking to her is easy because I am angry. I tell her she should know her daughter, know her well enough to see how devestated she is. That she should mean it when she makes a promise, and keep it. Or at least don't break it in front where she can discover the deception. And then all my anger deflates and I know that she can't see. She can't understand. She can't because she is not able. She is messed up because she lost her child. Her other daughter. The one she loved more than anything in the world.

And it is okay.

I can go back now to that moment and I can see myself, sitting on that bed, wringing my hands and asking, "Why me?" and I know that none of it was my fault. It was not my fault that my mother could not love me as a mother should love her child.

I was not the problem. My mother was the problem.

And I don't have to be a Little Girl anymore.

it worked

glory halleluiah

em dr yes.

but stuck in a mood now. so much to do its overwhelming and dont want to do any of it. had a very lazy day yesterday. worked some on the basement, trying to haul the stuff out of my basket place that got shoved in there while doing rons room. market it two weeks. I havent made a basket in a year.

was able to apply some filters to my cat picture and had them printed in color and they came out fantastic. working on a pig now for tom who is the hospital for the first stage of hooking his colon back up and repairing four hernias.

dinner at mom and dads tonight ugh.

two nights of no sleep because yaeger was in the house.

worked on my roc, wall. used 85 percent of the rocks. I need about 25 loads more to finish it.

not going to happen.

we have a little spike horn that keeps visiting the back yard. so in love with him and the doe and the yearling that come with him. graceful and so beautiful.

thunder ro ad is buzzing over the hill. rons mowing the lawn.

work is crazy.

this is all.

Monday not Sunday

I should not be sitting here in muy p jamas. I should be out buying sweet corn to bring to jo-anns corn roast tonight but I have been wanting to write about my therapy.

Ive actually written all the posts in my head several times, which makes me not want to write it down so much. but I will because it really is facinating, scary and very very hard.

first visit established a safe place and  cue word. Only I thought it was a Q word and couldn't quite understand until I realized it was a cue word and not a Q word, but anyway. I practiced that a lot and was able to get to my quiet calming down place easily and quickly.

But I havent practiced as much lately. I don't know if thats because I havent needed the safe place as much or if Im just being lazy.

second session established a 'container' for my stress, pain, frustraition, what have you. Did not practice that one as much as I could have but can say it really did work when my mother was lecuturing, I was able to imagine her words word ughly orange blobs coming out of her mouth that I could catch and contain with my hands, and then stuck the whole thing away in a tidy ball in a hole in the ground only I have access to.

The first session involved eye movements. the second session did not.

The third session was, like, whoa.

I cried the entire time.

we tried eye movements but I was having a hard time not going cross-eyed trying to watch his fingers in front of my face so we switched to hand-held buzzers.

We repeated the memory over and over and over and then over some more with my eyes closed, with the buzzer each time figuring out what I noticed about the memory itself as well as my physical feelings and he gave me a paper to record any other memories or triggers or emotions I have until the next appt. I also had to pick an affirming statement which was asked of me every time we went over the memory.

The memory was not the one I thought we were going to do.

It was the memory of me getting barked at by four teenage boys driving in a car as I crossed the street in front of them when I was like 15 or 16. It was a horrible experience that has affected me my entire life and reapeating it over and over was even more horrible and since we didn't get it resolved I will face it again on wednesday.

One thing that did come out of it was 'what I noticed' on the last go round was that, "I'm not feeling sorry for myself for being ugly as much as I'm feeling sorry for myself for feeling alone."

yeah and its painful just thinking about it.

time for a subject change. Let the snippets commence.

trying to finish up on the landscaping for the year. next year will continue and it will likely be years before it is done.

my phone broke. or I thought it did, but after buying a new one and getting a free tablet with it, my old one seems to be working perfectly fine. Im giving it to jacob.

Ive just finished my first cat commission. It came out exceedingly well. I want to apply some filters and try printing those.

my first market of the year is looming and I am not ready at all.

amazingly Im not stressing too much about it.

Tom is undergoing another life-threatening surgery to repair damage (four hernias) and start the first stage of reversing his col on osco py caused by his diver tic u lit us. Thursday. All day. 2 surgeons working together. And they can't use mesh as it is more prone to infection so they are using pig skin. We are all worried about it.

Jake T has submitted his will to the Lord to become a preacher. We went to church yesterday where he preached the message and did the bible study while their pastor is on vacation. It was a huge difference between the last time we saw him preach and now. Kelse has been telling me for the last year that she believes he will end up being a pastor and I can truly see that happening now. I am amazed and grateful for how God has worked in their lives but it still a little difficult to wrap my mind around. My mother is not happy about it. She has just been complaining and complaining that he doesnt have enough experience and he is only up there preaching his opinion. when she hasn't even heard him. Or thought about the fact that it's God's words not his own.

Ron's speech is deteriorating. I am having a harder and harder time understanding him and am constantly asking him to repeat things which is very frustrating for him. He has been cutting wood with his father and beth around 5 days per week. We got a lot of rain yesterday so it's too muddy to go in the woods so he is out for his five mile walk today.

Fall is here. It was 45 degrees a few mornings this week and there is that crispness in the air that makes me want to make beef stew and apple pies. Not that we can't still have a few days of 80 degree weather, and I know we will, but with this season change comes the sad fact that winter is, indeed, coming.

And I have been thinking my own book characters in my head and been missing them like crazy but Im still unable to open a blank page to type on because every time I sit down all I can do is play mah jo ng. ugh. I am hoping Shawn my NP psychiatrist can help me with that too.

And how scary is it that I have a psychiatrist?

And I'm off in search of some sweet corn.


didn't get up till eleven and then played ma h jo ng and read p s for two hours

sometimes I feel guilty sometimes I don't

went to m oun t a ub urn cem et ery on friday with amanda. it was a really great day. long. we walked around 6 miles according to my fitter bitter

ron and jake got the boat ready and they took kelse fishing yesterday

they caught some perch

making meatloaf for my parents house tonight

have to pick blackberries and blue berries

finally bought rowyns tree yesterday. its a mount ain ash got to plant it soon. also got two elder berry bushes and 2 blue berry bushes

We also need to dig up some maple saplings from the stone fence line and get those in

big news of the week is that I started the e m d r therapy and I have hopes it will work for me

goo gle it

it's facinating

my first session established my safe place

I chose a memory from maine when ron and I were walking on the sidewalk along the beach in y or k and it was warm and dark and there was a guy on waters edge playing the bag pipes


my next session is tuesday and Im nervous and excited

we're going to try to desensitize and reprocess the memory of throwing up greenbeans, potatoes and fried perch and being made to eat it.

news at eleven.


doing better but still not good. Im in the numb stage.

its a cycle that never ends:
smile, pretend to be happy; worry about all that is happening; dread and feelings of helplessness; Something Unbelievable and 'why me?' happens to start the meltdown causing anger and then Despair; numbness and not giving a shit and back to smiling and pretending.

I had a doctors appt this week for my diabetes which I was so worried about because I have not been good and felt like Id gained 20lbs. My sugar level was fine, Id only gained 5 of the 9 lbs I lost at WW back. My side had stopped bothering me so I didn't mention it because I figured it must have been from one of my falls from working in the basement.

I really like the NP I am seeing. She has D herself and fights her weight and with depression so I feel like she can relate. she is very kind. We talked about me seeing a therapist again but I just dont think it will help anymore. I've seen 4 over the last 15 years and they helped me tremendously but I feel like I know everything they will say now and it would just be pointless. She doesnt think my meds are working as they should be so she is referring me to a psychiatrist so they can help get me on some different meds and monitor me with them. but being where we are, it is going to take a few months to get in because there are just not enough doctors around here.

the bad news is that my liver is not doing well. and my side has started hurting again. It could be because Ive been doing some strenuous gardening and moving furniture around or maybe its my liver and not my kidney like I thought.

I have a fatty liver. I was supposed to lose weight. My enzyme number are way out of whack. I have to go back for bloodwork in 2 months. Im not to take any pain medication like ad vil or ty len ol. I need to eat healthier and lose weight and exercise more.

so now I have this on top of everything else to worry about.

I need to help my parents more. which scares the crap out of me.

Uncle Bill will be here on thursday. I know they won't stay long but I am terrified of how my mother is going to act.

cant write anymore because I can feel a panic attack setting in just thinking about it.


I am so tired and full of despair and anger.

my mind feels twisted, my thoughts are like words that I can't get out.

Its my mother. always my mother. I am tired of worrying about her, of trying to find something for her to do because she is blind, tired of trying to fix everything and make it better.

as much as I want to, I cant make anything better. I think of my last therapist telling me, You cant control what she says and does, you can only control your attitude about it.

Yeah? attitude is a lie a make to myself.

I can put on a smile and pretend all is well-- I can appear happy on the outside--my attitude can portray me as a person who has a rough time of it, but it will get better, I have faith! I know this will pass! Smile brightly! The future is not written! Things will Improve!

what an effing lie.

I am having suicidal thoughts again.

I don't want to go through changing my meds again.

they work for a while.

the optimistic attitude even works for a while.

but the truth is inside my, the bare naked truth of my existence.

I hate myself. I hate my mother. I am wallowing in self pity.

I am fat. I am ugly.

I can't remember anything.

Last week I go og led stress an d mem or y lo ss.

the articles said it is a real thing and long term, it causes permanent damage.

I used to think I would get better. my mind would clear up when I wasnt stressed anymore.

now I know I will be like this the rest of my life.

I feel numb in some ways.

resigned to my fate.


I feel like I am imprisoned by the unfairness of life.

there is nothing I can do to make it better.

changing my attitude does not make it so.

I will not lose weight when I am less stressed.

because there is no such thing as less stress in my life.

My mother is selfish and dramatic and miserable. she is a mean, old, woman who only talks about the death that eludes her with no regard to how it affects those around her. every waking moment of her life is so miserable that all she can do is make everyone else miserable around her.

she berates my father, her voice a grating, nasty-pitched, stream of putrid evil.

she cannot shut up.

she opens her mouth and only harm comes out.

she uses her pain as a weapon to inflict harm on me.

she beats me with it. she grinds me in the dirt with the heal of her anger.

and I can do nothing but shrink inside myself, as my guilt grows like a vine that wraps me so tight I can't breath and all I want is out.

How? How do I escape from my life?

250 steps

is all I have at 150 in the afternoon. I am still not dressed. I am dreading going to my parents in an hour.

My back has been aching for several weeks. sometimes when I turn over in bed, I get a jolt of sheer agony, the pain is so bad. 

Ive come to realize it's probably not a muscle strain like Ive been trying to pretend. something is wrong with my kidney. a stone maybe? or re n al failure because of my type two. 

I have not been taking care of my self. I have been eating my emotions again and again. Im still paying for ww and haven't been in over a month. Im having suicidal thoughts again. 

Im at my medications max dosage. 

Joyce and family left yesterday morning. they drove straight thru and made it back at 530 this morning. I had such a wonderful time with them until thursday night when my mother showed her true colors to us all.

she'd been drinking. I left in the middle of it and went outside. I cried for a while then called kelse but talked to jake t. in the middle of slamming ron for being too much of a wimp to come out to comfort me, he appeared. 

then mom showed up to berate me more and tell me how childish I was being. ron walked her back inside and i cried some more. 

finally they all came out and we left. my cousins husband said my mother just made a fool out f herself. 

their daughter in law said, "bless your heart."

their son said he had heard worse. 

I said, Welcome to my life.

My cousin said  her mom was so much like my mom without out the nasty mean ness my mother has.

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green grass

Its nice to look out my window and see grass on the lawn. I need to put more seed down on the places it didn't come up but for the most part it is looking good. My front walk looks good too.

I got A LOT done in the basement yesterday. Ron's room just needs the floor to be painted and the floor moldings on. Hope to get that done this week. I really want to buy a hide-a-bed couch or futon for down there. We'll also set up the second tv there which we haven't used at all since we got here. There are still tons of boxes to empty down there and my space to reorganize and set up (again) since so much crap got put in there while we were working on the the other rooms. Rons antlers are pretty well contained and the bedroom is pretty much done. Jake and Kelse moved all the furniture down there yesterday. I also have to buy a mattress for the antique bed -- which is painted but now we can't find the bolts to put it together. Yah. Some things never change. Now I have the task of trying to get that done before the folks get here. Along with a million other things.

I had lunch on friday afternoon with Dorothy in saint j. that made me happy. it was so good to see her. and we had mexican, my favorite. she gave me a bunch of perennials, that no one else gave me! Kelse was working in the childrens library at the library there and jake insisted I go see the library. it was so beautiful and had a tone of twisty staircases that led to narrow balconies around the peremiter walls. Shopped at a couple of places too. Wish I had more money!

The granite muse um put on its third? second? annual fire walk. Only it rained and they had to hold it indoors. Last year jake and kelse were tour guides, who led people through the woods and along the river to where they had stages set up with actors each giving a dialogue on some historical even or history that happened concerning our small city and the industry that brought so many immigrants here in the late 1800s and early 1900s. This year they both had acting parts and got paid a hundred each. They did a good job and I really enjoyed it and the entire experience going through the exhibits.

going to work outside today as long as it doesnt rain then headed to my parents.

got in an argument with court the other night and he's been quite ever since. I don't need the added stress nor the fact that I tripped on a board yesterday and went down like a walrus falling off a cliff. My knee is pretty banged up and painful to bend. My shoulder hurts and the hand I landed on. I am too old and fat for all this hard work. I hit 10k steps yesterday and that was 95 percent of working on the basement. whew.

I finished my series that I love so much. and I cried. It was a fitting ending but after taking a year to read the 12? 15? books in the series, I feel lost without those characters now.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the effects of books on my outlook in life. Most of the stuff I read contains epic adventures. I think I've felt a loss of adventure in my life. Definitely the loss of something. It's hard to explain. I know life is not like a book. Sometimes I wonder if the pretend we played as kids was epic. I tend to think a lot of it was. Do all kids have those epic adventure or complicated imaginary games or was it just me and the kids I played with. Not all of them came up with the stuff. Most of it was me and steph, the rest were mostly followers. I felt like when I was writing in a group I came up with a lot of the plots. And I can really embellish a story. Just like my dad. So maybe it's not reading epic adventure books that skew my way of thinking or view of life. It's probably my own tendency to create stories and drama and empathy toward everything that happens.

I constantly remind myself that just because I feel a certain way about something, other people see things differently. As it should be. We are each individuals. I also think about the wide range of friends I have and how some are so different from me and some are so alike. I do see the best in everyone which can at times be a fault-- mostly because not every person is to be trusted and having trusts broken is very painful-- but I would rather think good of those around me than to be suspicious or not let myself get closer to them because they might not care about me the same way.

I need to get up and limp along. so much to get done.