I'm off to the dentist. Semi-annual cleaning. Xrays. But I will be back! And if you miss me in the next hour, feel free to text me. I can still use my fingers while I have something in my mouth. Okay, there was a little innuendo in that last sentence!
Ta!
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Knock on wood
(no innuendo intended)
Thank goodness Mark is hardly ever sick. Maybe two days a year he gets a cold. Or allergies. Or hives. But other than that, we spend virtually nothing on his medical care other than a yearly physical.
And then there's me. We just got done paying about $2600 in copay for my March hospital visit. We should be on the 100% paid plan now. When I had chemo, all it took was one treatment to pay our out of pocket and copay, so I was 100% paid for that year. Which was nice, since my surgery and hospitalization that year, with two different hospitals, came to over $200,000. And then there are my medical supplies.
Catheters, gauze to cover stoma, bandages that don't rip my skin off to cover my stoma are about $10 per bandage. Per day. If not twice a day. Antibiotic soap that I have to use before and after catheterizing. Tape that doesn't rip my skin off to cover the bandage that doesn't rip my skin off...that covers the gauze under the bandage that swallowed the fly perhaps he'll die.
Meds....oh the meds. The meds for my diabetes. The meds for my hypothyroidism. The meds for my high blood pressure. The meds for my OCD and PTSD and anxiety. The herbal and supplements I take. D-Mannose and Cranberry to hopefully avoid UTIs. Biotin to get my hair back into shape after chemo. Vitamins.
So then there are the Three Stooges and their Veterinary care. Normally it's not too bad, once a year kind of things, just like Mark. But Mrs., our 13 year old black Pug, has decided that she has an appetite for....well, to put it bluntly, Mrs. likes eating shit. We had her in the Vet's office a few weeks ago, where they tested and found that she was not only eating her own shit, but also quite a bit of rabbit shit. One hundred dollar later, we had medicine for her. Cleared her up right away, no more pooping in the house, no more unbelievable gas. And we walk her on leash now instead of putting her on a tie out, so she cannot get near the shit.
Medicine stopped on Saturday. Today when Mark came home from work, Mrs. had pooped in the kitchen. And then she got gassy. And now she just pooped in the kitchen again. Called the vet, waiting for response. Hoping she just didn't have enough medicine. Another day, another $100 bill.
We're an expensive bunch!
Thank goodness Mark is hardly ever sick. Maybe two days a year he gets a cold. Or allergies. Or hives. But other than that, we spend virtually nothing on his medical care other than a yearly physical.
And then there's me. We just got done paying about $2600 in copay for my March hospital visit. We should be on the 100% paid plan now. When I had chemo, all it took was one treatment to pay our out of pocket and copay, so I was 100% paid for that year. Which was nice, since my surgery and hospitalization that year, with two different hospitals, came to over $200,000. And then there are my medical supplies.
Catheters, gauze to cover stoma, bandages that don't rip my skin off to cover my stoma are about $10 per bandage. Per day. If not twice a day. Antibiotic soap that I have to use before and after catheterizing. Tape that doesn't rip my skin off to cover the bandage that doesn't rip my skin off...that covers the gauze under the bandage that swallowed the fly perhaps he'll die.
Meds....oh the meds. The meds for my diabetes. The meds for my hypothyroidism. The meds for my high blood pressure. The meds for my OCD and PTSD and anxiety. The herbal and supplements I take. D-Mannose and Cranberry to hopefully avoid UTIs. Biotin to get my hair back into shape after chemo. Vitamins.
So then there are the Three Stooges and their Veterinary care. Normally it's not too bad, once a year kind of things, just like Mark. But Mrs., our 13 year old black Pug, has decided that she has an appetite for....well, to put it bluntly, Mrs. likes eating shit. We had her in the Vet's office a few weeks ago, where they tested and found that she was not only eating her own shit, but also quite a bit of rabbit shit. One hundred dollar later, we had medicine for her. Cleared her up right away, no more pooping in the house, no more unbelievable gas. And we walk her on leash now instead of putting her on a tie out, so she cannot get near the shit.
Medicine stopped on Saturday. Today when Mark came home from work, Mrs. had pooped in the kitchen. And then she got gassy. And now she just pooped in the kitchen again. Called the vet, waiting for response. Hoping she just didn't have enough medicine. Another day, another $100 bill.
We're an expensive bunch!
Your account has been deactivated
Mindi has left the Facebook building.
Yesterday, I decided to do some Spring cleaning. Which means clean out my "friends" list, keep those that want to be kept, delete those who prefer to leave. Just as at least one of my friends does every single week. Without judgement and accusations and drama. Oh wouldn't that be lovely, a Mindi world without judgement or accusations or drama?
Backtracking a bit. A few days ago I posted something asking why people who seemingly have no interest in me and almost show a bit of contempt towards me feel the need to remain my friend on Facebook. If you don't want to be friends with me, don't. Seems simple enough. Anyway, that was directed towards one or two people. And one of those two people were the first to accuse and judge and provide a good backdrop for drama.
Rather than have the thread go on and on, and have more people voice their opinions on something that OTHER PEOPLE DO EVERY STINKING DAY, I deleted the thread. And then I deactivated my account. As one of the people who replied suggested, I have found peace. Peace in one simple word. Deactivate! Wasn't that something the Wonder Twins said? I wonder if it brought them peace?
So the very first offensive (to me) post suggested that I was only seeking attention and using emotional blackmail in doing a Spring cleaning. "If you don't love me, I'll delete you". I find it sickening that this particular woman is the one that I was questioning as to why she remained my friend. Her comment was totally out of the woodwork. I respond to her posts, generally, when I see them, and never get a response. And never see responses from her on my threads. So NOW she decides to put her hurtful and WRONG two cents in? Come on Bonnie. I'm not dumb.
In the middle of people posting and telling me to keep them on my friends list, a few more people responded, agreeing with Bonnie. One person wrote that she hoped I found peace soon. Really? All of this because I wanted to clean up my friends list? Really? Pathetic. Yes, I overreacted. Of course I did, I'm not an idiot, I know this. That being said, was it really necessary for the judgement post? Is that something that could have been done in private message? Ah, but private message would not have brought the drama.
Anyway.....for now, I can be reached at mpiasecki@new.rr.com or text 920-475-0359.
No, I have not lost my mind. Not even close. Seeing very clearly now, thanks!
Yesterday, I decided to do some Spring cleaning. Which means clean out my "friends" list, keep those that want to be kept, delete those who prefer to leave. Just as at least one of my friends does every single week. Without judgement and accusations and drama. Oh wouldn't that be lovely, a Mindi world without judgement or accusations or drama?
Backtracking a bit. A few days ago I posted something asking why people who seemingly have no interest in me and almost show a bit of contempt towards me feel the need to remain my friend on Facebook. If you don't want to be friends with me, don't. Seems simple enough. Anyway, that was directed towards one or two people. And one of those two people were the first to accuse and judge and provide a good backdrop for drama.
Rather than have the thread go on and on, and have more people voice their opinions on something that OTHER PEOPLE DO EVERY STINKING DAY, I deleted the thread. And then I deactivated my account. As one of the people who replied suggested, I have found peace. Peace in one simple word. Deactivate! Wasn't that something the Wonder Twins said? I wonder if it brought them peace?
So the very first offensive (to me) post suggested that I was only seeking attention and using emotional blackmail in doing a Spring cleaning. "If you don't love me, I'll delete you". I find it sickening that this particular woman is the one that I was questioning as to why she remained my friend. Her comment was totally out of the woodwork. I respond to her posts, generally, when I see them, and never get a response. And never see responses from her on my threads. So NOW she decides to put her hurtful and WRONG two cents in? Come on Bonnie. I'm not dumb.
In the middle of people posting and telling me to keep them on my friends list, a few more people responded, agreeing with Bonnie. One person wrote that she hoped I found peace soon. Really? All of this because I wanted to clean up my friends list? Really? Pathetic. Yes, I overreacted. Of course I did, I'm not an idiot, I know this. That being said, was it really necessary for the judgement post? Is that something that could have been done in private message? Ah, but private message would not have brought the drama.
Anyway.....for now, I can be reached at mpiasecki@new.rr.com or text 920-475-0359.
No, I have not lost my mind. Not even close. Seeing very clearly now, thanks!
Monday, April 29, 2013
Reading again
I finished reading my first book. Online. "The Little Book of Pain" by Anthony Scott Waters. It took me less than 24 hours. I am going to read it again and pay closer attention to the artwork. And highlight the parts that hit way too close to home. Despite my Prozac numbness, I cried. Not so much a sad cry, really. An "oh how I can relate" cry. Powerful book, for those in the know. And if you aren't in the know, you are so lucky.
Amazed that I finished the book so quickly, since as of last week, I didn't think that I could read or would read, ever again.
Feeling the need to connect with the author. Or maybe already have, through his words.
The Dates
I have dates in my head. Times and years that things happened to me. Sometimes I'll just write them down, because my memory is horrific since the chemo. And they are too important to forget. Never forget.
November 29, 1979 ~ the car accident. The day Kathy Jo died.
Spring 1987 ~ I met the bad Mark
October 19, 1991 ~ Against my better judgement, married the bad Mark
August 13, 1992 ~ My friend Laura was put into a mental health facility.
August 20, 1992 ~ My friend Jill was shot five times and killed, in front of her 4 year old daughter.
March 1993 ~ My Father died.
October 1994 ~ Moved from NH to VT
Spring 1998 ~ Separated from the bad Mark. On my own and loving it!
November 1999 ~ Divorced from the bad Mark! YAY!
May 2000 ~ Met Michael. Big part of my new, fun life....for a while.
May 2001 ~ Met the good Mark over the internet. Then in person on May 25, 2001.
September 2001 ~ Bought first home with Mark
April 2002 ~ Mark got down on his knee and proposed, asking for step-father and Mom's blessing.
June 2002 ~ Mark laid off after 11 years at IBM.
June 21, 2003 ~ Mark and I got married in Vegas!!!
Fall 2004 ~ Moved from VT to MN for Mark's work.
May 2005 ~ Became foster parents, had our first placement, a 6 mnth old preemie.
October 2005 ~ Found out I was pregnant with Daniel.
January 4, 2006 ~ Lost our son Daniel to incompetent cervix.
August 11, 2006 ~ Lost our second child early in the pregnancy.
Fall 2007 ~ Moved to WI
October 18, 2010 ~ Mark's 40th birthday. Found out I was pregnant.
November 2010 ~ Found out I had bladder cancer. Lost the baby.
December 2010 ~ Started chemo
March 2011 ~ Had surgery to remove bladder and uterus, 12 days in hospital.
April 2011, April 2012, March 2013 ~ Hospitalizations for UTI, Septic Shock, abscess, bleeding internally.
February 16, 2012 ~ Had 15 month old baby girl placed with us as foster.
March 1, 2013 ~ Baby girl moved to home of family.
November 29, 1979 ~ the car accident. The day Kathy Jo died.
Spring 1987 ~ I met the bad Mark
October 19, 1991 ~ Against my better judgement, married the bad Mark
August 13, 1992 ~ My friend Laura was put into a mental health facility.
August 20, 1992 ~ My friend Jill was shot five times and killed, in front of her 4 year old daughter.
March 1993 ~ My Father died.
October 1994 ~ Moved from NH to VT
Spring 1998 ~ Separated from the bad Mark. On my own and loving it!
November 1999 ~ Divorced from the bad Mark! YAY!
May 2000 ~ Met Michael. Big part of my new, fun life....for a while.
May 2001 ~ Met the good Mark over the internet. Then in person on May 25, 2001.
September 2001 ~ Bought first home with Mark
April 2002 ~ Mark got down on his knee and proposed, asking for step-father and Mom's blessing.
June 2002 ~ Mark laid off after 11 years at IBM.
June 21, 2003 ~ Mark and I got married in Vegas!!!
Fall 2004 ~ Moved from VT to MN for Mark's work.
May 2005 ~ Became foster parents, had our first placement, a 6 mnth old preemie.
October 2005 ~ Found out I was pregnant with Daniel.
January 4, 2006 ~ Lost our son Daniel to incompetent cervix.
August 11, 2006 ~ Lost our second child early in the pregnancy.
Fall 2007 ~ Moved to WI
October 18, 2010 ~ Mark's 40th birthday. Found out I was pregnant.
November 2010 ~ Found out I had bladder cancer. Lost the baby.
December 2010 ~ Started chemo
March 2011 ~ Had surgery to remove bladder and uterus, 12 days in hospital.
April 2011, April 2012, March 2013 ~ Hospitalizations for UTI, Septic Shock, abscess, bleeding internally.
February 16, 2012 ~ Had 15 month old baby girl placed with us as foster.
March 1, 2013 ~ Baby girl moved to home of family.
Don't Leave Me
"Where are you going?"
"What are you doing?"
"Are you mad at me?"
"Do you want to hit me?"
In the beginning of my relationship with the good Mark, these were all phrases out of my mouth, some numerous times a day. I was scared. I'm still scared.
I'm scared that Mark will figure out that he got the short end of the stick on this relationship and he'll want to leave.
I'm scared that one day he will turn out like the rest and get so angry with me that he has to hit me.
I'm scared that he will leave one day and I don't know where he went and he'll never come back.
I'm always scared that I will anger him.
He has never ever given me reason to feel this way. He has never even raised his voice to me. But my past warrants my present behavior I guess.
I'm always scared that my friends are going to see what a lunatic I am and just leave me. I wouldn't stay with me, I'm crazy! How anyone puts up with me is beyond mind boggling. I am always tense when checking how many friends I have left on Facebook. When one disappears, I look for reassurance from everyone else....but all I feel is that it was most definitely something I did, and I'll never get that friend back. Doesn't matter even if it's a friend I've never met in real life. It hurts me.
My little sister left me when I was 11. Yes, she was killed and it wasn't her choice, but it still happened. My father used to leave my mother all the time, leaving her a note which almost always said something about "you and your baby (Mindi) can be alone now". My ex-husband? He took off for places unknown (or Ohio) every few months. He always felt it best not to tell me until he got to his destination, because I would become hysterical if he told me about it beforehand. I actually found out beforehand once....and I took his packed bag of clothing, put it into the washing machine, filled up the machine and then stopped it. So when he got home to get on a plane, everything he owned was soaking wet. Today I find that humorous. Back then, I had to disappear so as to not get killed by the ex.
Every person who has cemented themselves in my life goes through a test of sorts, to make sure they aren't going to leave me. "Where are you going?" and "Are you mad at me" are very common to hear if you are my friend. It doesn't help to point it out to me. It doesn't help to reassure. It's just ME. I don't know that I will ever change. I was born worrying, I was born scared. Quite honestly, it sucks. Sometimes I feel like I can't be myself....because myself is just too much to handle. Myself is too annoying. Myself is too clingy and needy and sad and alone and deranged and
Don't leave me.
"What are you doing?"
"Are you mad at me?"
"Do you want to hit me?"
In the beginning of my relationship with the good Mark, these were all phrases out of my mouth, some numerous times a day. I was scared. I'm still scared.
I'm scared that Mark will figure out that he got the short end of the stick on this relationship and he'll want to leave.
I'm scared that one day he will turn out like the rest and get so angry with me that he has to hit me.
I'm scared that he will leave one day and I don't know where he went and he'll never come back.
I'm always scared that I will anger him.
He has never ever given me reason to feel this way. He has never even raised his voice to me. But my past warrants my present behavior I guess.
I'm always scared that my friends are going to see what a lunatic I am and just leave me. I wouldn't stay with me, I'm crazy! How anyone puts up with me is beyond mind boggling. I am always tense when checking how many friends I have left on Facebook. When one disappears, I look for reassurance from everyone else....but all I feel is that it was most definitely something I did, and I'll never get that friend back. Doesn't matter even if it's a friend I've never met in real life. It hurts me.
My little sister left me when I was 11. Yes, she was killed and it wasn't her choice, but it still happened. My father used to leave my mother all the time, leaving her a note which almost always said something about "you and your baby (Mindi) can be alone now". My ex-husband? He took off for places unknown (or Ohio) every few months. He always felt it best not to tell me until he got to his destination, because I would become hysterical if he told me about it beforehand. I actually found out beforehand once....and I took his packed bag of clothing, put it into the washing machine, filled up the machine and then stopped it. So when he got home to get on a plane, everything he owned was soaking wet. Today I find that humorous. Back then, I had to disappear so as to not get killed by the ex.
Every person who has cemented themselves in my life goes through a test of sorts, to make sure they aren't going to leave me. "Where are you going?" and "Are you mad at me" are very common to hear if you are my friend. It doesn't help to point it out to me. It doesn't help to reassure. It's just ME. I don't know that I will ever change. I was born worrying, I was born scared. Quite honestly, it sucks. Sometimes I feel like I can't be myself....because myself is just too much to handle. Myself is too annoying. Myself is too clingy and needy and sad and alone and deranged and
Don't leave me.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
In the middle
I am, right now, in the middle of reading my first book since before the chemo. I am wishing I hadn't taken that Lorazepam an hour ago. I fear I'm going to have to go to sleep and leave this amazing book for the night.
Have you ever felt, really FELT, how someone else feels? Has anyone ever said, or written, something that you've been thinking for years and years? Have you ever felt bonded to someone you've never met, just from their words? Words are so powerful.
"Don't leave me" is the same, in my mind, as "Where are you going?" Not many will understand that. But I do.
Have you ever felt, really FELT, how someone else feels? Has anyone ever said, or written, something that you've been thinking for years and years? Have you ever felt bonded to someone you've never met, just from their words? Words are so powerful.
"Don't leave me" is the same, in my mind, as "Where are you going?" Not many will understand that. But I do.
Bad mood
I just don't understand why people lie, when the truth is just as simple? I am slowly losing faith in people. If you tell me that you're going to do something, just please do it. Or don't say you're going to do it. Withholding the truth, in my eyes, is a lie.
The truth will set you free.
Have been having a Thirty One Gifts party, online. It is a fundraiser to help Mark and I raise money for our future adoption. You would think that people would care enough.......never mind. Anyway, the party closes tomorrow, and I have spent more than we will gain from the fundraiser. That makes me sad. And the friend hosting the party for me feels bad. But she's done everything she can as well.
Here's the link if you want one last look.
https://www.mythirtyone.com/shop/catalog.aspx?eventId=E3149186&from=DIRECTLINK
I'm not planning on there being any more sales. I'll say it once again.....it saddens me that when I have fundraisers for others, people buy. When I attempt to make money for Mark and I, nada.
The truth will set you free.
Have been having a Thirty One Gifts party, online. It is a fundraiser to help Mark and I raise money for our future adoption. You would think that people would care enough.......never mind. Anyway, the party closes tomorrow, and I have spent more than we will gain from the fundraiser. That makes me sad. And the friend hosting the party for me feels bad. But she's done everything she can as well.
Here's the link if you want one last look.
https://www.mythirtyone.com/shop/catalog.aspx?eventId=E3149186&from=DIRECTLINK
I'm not planning on there being any more sales. I'll say it once again.....it saddens me that when I have fundraisers for others, people buy. When I attempt to make money for Mark and I, nada.
I am quirky
If you know me at all, you know I have a whole bunch of quirks. Some are endearing (or so I've been told). Some are annoying as hell. Some make living with me a big ole nightmare and I have no idea how Mark does it.
I have a grease phobia. Yes, there is a phobia for this, although the name escapes me. I don't like fried food. I don't keep oils or butters or margarines in the house. I will use olive oil sparingly. This whole part of the country seems obsessed with battering and breading and deep frying everything. Yuck!
My OCD makes things interesting. I don't like crooked things. I need everything even. Mark is so used to me, thank goodness, that he always checks to make sure everything is okay in my eyes. The day that we have to change the clocks you can pretty much guarantee that I will need Lorazepam. If a clock is off by 1/100th of an inch, I can spot it. And cannot be in the same room with it until remedied.
I believe that I have some sensory issues. I cannot go into any place that has tiny patterns on the floor. There's a bookstore in town that I would LOVE to peruse. Their carpeting has this pattern on it that literally sent me into a panic attack the one time we went into it. I can barely walk by the store anymore and can't look in the window.
Our Vet's office has some exam rooms that have checkered wallpaper. I always request NOT to be in those rooms. When I'm put into one, I need to keep the door open and my eyes focused on the exam table, or I will lose it.
Sounds drive me batty. The sound of Mrs's nails on our wood floors sets me off. Mister Petey Picard has this bark that just BOOMS. I cringe every time he barks. And Barney.....Barney licks everything. E V E R Y T H I N G. And it sounds disgusting. Mark thinks it's funny to have Barney lick his ears. I have to leave the room.
The lights in some stores, like Walmart, will cause me anxiety. When I do go out on my own (I prefer to go everywhere with Mark), I carry lavender essential oils with me. If I start feeling scared, I sniff the oils and sometimes can make it through the shopping trip. Most of the time, the lavender calms me enough to get to my car and get home.
I like things a certain way. Going out to dinner with me is an experience. My friend Jen calls me "Meg" or "Sally" as in Meg Ryan in "When Harry Met Sally". I normally have the waitress go back and ask the chef questions at least a couple times when we go out. I substitute or have it on the side or ask for it a certain way, every time.
Mark is watching something on Roku right now. It's a streaming something or other. And the voice is not matching the video and there are echos. It's driving me nuts!!
I don't walk near the road when it's snowing out. I can place the blame for that on my ptsd from our car accident when I was a child. When waiting for a school bus, a car slid on black ice and landed on my two sisters, throwing me across the street into our front yard. I won't ride in a vehicle if the roads are bad. I need meds to get through it when Mark drives to work in bad weather. Mark is the only driver I trust in the winter.
I can pinpoint and put the blame of some things on certain issues I've had in my life. I'm just thankful for people who understand me (or at least pretend to), and also for my friends who are strong enough to tell me when I might be getting TOO OCD and need to see someone. And I'm seeing him in a week or so!
For now, we'll just call me quirky.
I have a grease phobia. Yes, there is a phobia for this, although the name escapes me. I don't like fried food. I don't keep oils or butters or margarines in the house. I will use olive oil sparingly. This whole part of the country seems obsessed with battering and breading and deep frying everything. Yuck!
My OCD makes things interesting. I don't like crooked things. I need everything even. Mark is so used to me, thank goodness, that he always checks to make sure everything is okay in my eyes. The day that we have to change the clocks you can pretty much guarantee that I will need Lorazepam. If a clock is off by 1/100th of an inch, I can spot it. And cannot be in the same room with it until remedied.
I believe that I have some sensory issues. I cannot go into any place that has tiny patterns on the floor. There's a bookstore in town that I would LOVE to peruse. Their carpeting has this pattern on it that literally sent me into a panic attack the one time we went into it. I can barely walk by the store anymore and can't look in the window.
Our Vet's office has some exam rooms that have checkered wallpaper. I always request NOT to be in those rooms. When I'm put into one, I need to keep the door open and my eyes focused on the exam table, or I will lose it.
Sounds drive me batty. The sound of Mrs's nails on our wood floors sets me off. Mister Petey Picard has this bark that just BOOMS. I cringe every time he barks. And Barney.....Barney licks everything. E V E R Y T H I N G. And it sounds disgusting. Mark thinks it's funny to have Barney lick his ears. I have to leave the room.
The lights in some stores, like Walmart, will cause me anxiety. When I do go out on my own (I prefer to go everywhere with Mark), I carry lavender essential oils with me. If I start feeling scared, I sniff the oils and sometimes can make it through the shopping trip. Most of the time, the lavender calms me enough to get to my car and get home.
I like things a certain way. Going out to dinner with me is an experience. My friend Jen calls me "Meg" or "Sally" as in Meg Ryan in "When Harry Met Sally". I normally have the waitress go back and ask the chef questions at least a couple times when we go out. I substitute or have it on the side or ask for it a certain way, every time.
Mark is watching something on Roku right now. It's a streaming something or other. And the voice is not matching the video and there are echos. It's driving me nuts!!
I don't walk near the road when it's snowing out. I can place the blame for that on my ptsd from our car accident when I was a child. When waiting for a school bus, a car slid on black ice and landed on my two sisters, throwing me across the street into our front yard. I won't ride in a vehicle if the roads are bad. I need meds to get through it when Mark drives to work in bad weather. Mark is the only driver I trust in the winter.
I can pinpoint and put the blame of some things on certain issues I've had in my life. I'm just thankful for people who understand me (or at least pretend to), and also for my friends who are strong enough to tell me when I might be getting TOO OCD and need to see someone. And I'm seeing him in a week or so!
For now, we'll just call me quirky.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
My Father
George Edward Sheldon. Ed was what he went by. Or Fast Eddie, if he were speaking of his days running the roads and speaking to people "across the country" on his CB Radio.
My Father. Wow. I haven't really spoken of or about him in quite a while. Scary to bring up the past. Some things are better left in the past. If I tried hard enough (my old therapist told me so), I would/could remember the past well enough to recognize whether what my older sister told me was the truth. I don't know that I want to know.
Ed Sheldon was in sales. He sold beds, encyclopedias, frozen food...he worked collections and thus carried a concealed weapon in his (new every year) Cadillac. Appearances meant absolutely everything to Ed Sheldon. And oh the stories he could tell.
Ed was an alcoholic, plain and simple. From the moment he awoke and puked up his cheap Gallo Hearty Burgundy Wine until the moment he passed out and left us in blissful peace for a few hours...he was a drunk. And oh the stories he could tell when he was drunk.
If you asked Ed at any given time about his past, you would get a huge variation of his past employ and experience. At one point, he was a world-famous chef and his knife collection was worth thousands. At another, he was in the Army and went to war to save our country (he never left boot camp). He was a singer with Willie Nelson one time. And if you talked back to him, apparently he had the power to "backhand you across the room".
I was the seventh of eight children. There was Sue, Beth and Jim....Ed's children from his first marriage. There were Rick and Gayle, my Mom's kids from her first marriage. And then when Ed and Bev married, there was Lisa, Melinda (me) and Kathy Jo. Ed always wanted a boy and since he was given three more girls, he decided to pretend that Kathy was a boy. He presented her with BB Guns and fishing rods and every gift a little boy could want. And when Kathy was killed at the age of eight, I thought that my Father was also gone. Every year after that, when he was home, Ed put a single rose next to Kathy's photo.
When Kathy died, my Mom got heavily into the church, church activities, Bible study, helping others. And Ed.....Ed drank. A lot. Ed regularly would leave my Mom for another woman. Apparently any woman who would have him. Ed felt that my Mother babied me after Kathy died and he didn't like the fact that I got more attention than he.
I used to pray that my Father would just stay away, keep living with whichever whore he had chosen for the month. Unfortunately he always came back, tail between legs, and Mom always forgave him. In fact, one time, when I was probably in the 7th grade, my older sister Lisa and I were forced to go for a ride with Ed, to help him pack up his things and carry them home from the whore of the month. Nice memories.
Because I could never keep my mouth shut, I was the child who never got along with Ed. I left pamphlets around the house about AA. I told him, and anyone within ear's reach, when he was lying. And that was quite often. By this time, I was the only child living under Ed's roof. Ed would treat me like dog shit, and then buy me something, so that I appeared to be a spoiled, well taken care of, young adult. My brothers and sisters, I imagine, were jealous, from what one sister told me. They never got all the things that I got. They never lived with the drunk for as long as I did, either.
On the night of my graduation, I was having dinner with some family friends before the ceremony. My Father, who absolutely could not have been bothered to come to the graduation, found us. He stumbled into the restaurant, went to pull out a chair and sit down, missed, fell on the floor.....got back up, tried to shake my hand while saying "It's about fucking time you graduated. When are you moving out?" Nice memories.
As the years went by, time wasn't good to Ed. He had heart problems. He had diabetes. He had a bunch of mini strokes. He and my Mother ended up living in Vermont, on welfare. When I would go and visit, my Mom would ask me if she could borrow $10 for gas money. It was a sad turn of events for the man who owned a five bedroom home with an inground pool and a new Cadillac every year.
My Father went to Boston to have an operation on his legs. He had a massive heart attack while on the table. The leg operation, though, was a total success. Ed lived for three days and died in the middle of the night on his third day. For the man who was always making a "bang", he went out with a whimper. On welfare.
I had a bit of a nervous breakdown in the middle of Brigham and Women's Hospital the day Ed died. We had JUST started to get along. And to speak. And to be real. And then he died.
When my older sister visited my Mom that same year, she and I went out and had a chat on Mom's front porch. According to her, my Father was overly friendly with her and the two oldest sisters. My sister didn't know for sure if he had ever touched the boys, or the three youngest. As I said, I don't know what to believe. Not sure I want to know. He's dead. What could I possibly say or do to him now, if I did find out what I don't want to find out?
My Father. Wow. I haven't really spoken of or about him in quite a while. Scary to bring up the past. Some things are better left in the past. If I tried hard enough (my old therapist told me so), I would/could remember the past well enough to recognize whether what my older sister told me was the truth. I don't know that I want to know.
Ed Sheldon was in sales. He sold beds, encyclopedias, frozen food...he worked collections and thus carried a concealed weapon in his (new every year) Cadillac. Appearances meant absolutely everything to Ed Sheldon. And oh the stories he could tell.
Ed was an alcoholic, plain and simple. From the moment he awoke and puked up his cheap Gallo Hearty Burgundy Wine until the moment he passed out and left us in blissful peace for a few hours...he was a drunk. And oh the stories he could tell when he was drunk.
If you asked Ed at any given time about his past, you would get a huge variation of his past employ and experience. At one point, he was a world-famous chef and his knife collection was worth thousands. At another, he was in the Army and went to war to save our country (he never left boot camp). He was a singer with Willie Nelson one time. And if you talked back to him, apparently he had the power to "backhand you across the room".
I was the seventh of eight children. There was Sue, Beth and Jim....Ed's children from his first marriage. There were Rick and Gayle, my Mom's kids from her first marriage. And then when Ed and Bev married, there was Lisa, Melinda (me) and Kathy Jo. Ed always wanted a boy and since he was given three more girls, he decided to pretend that Kathy was a boy. He presented her with BB Guns and fishing rods and every gift a little boy could want. And when Kathy was killed at the age of eight, I thought that my Father was also gone. Every year after that, when he was home, Ed put a single rose next to Kathy's photo.
When Kathy died, my Mom got heavily into the church, church activities, Bible study, helping others. And Ed.....Ed drank. A lot. Ed regularly would leave my Mom for another woman. Apparently any woman who would have him. Ed felt that my Mother babied me after Kathy died and he didn't like the fact that I got more attention than he.
I used to pray that my Father would just stay away, keep living with whichever whore he had chosen for the month. Unfortunately he always came back, tail between legs, and Mom always forgave him. In fact, one time, when I was probably in the 7th grade, my older sister Lisa and I were forced to go for a ride with Ed, to help him pack up his things and carry them home from the whore of the month. Nice memories.
Because I could never keep my mouth shut, I was the child who never got along with Ed. I left pamphlets around the house about AA. I told him, and anyone within ear's reach, when he was lying. And that was quite often. By this time, I was the only child living under Ed's roof. Ed would treat me like dog shit, and then buy me something, so that I appeared to be a spoiled, well taken care of, young adult. My brothers and sisters, I imagine, were jealous, from what one sister told me. They never got all the things that I got. They never lived with the drunk for as long as I did, either.
On the night of my graduation, I was having dinner with some family friends before the ceremony. My Father, who absolutely could not have been bothered to come to the graduation, found us. He stumbled into the restaurant, went to pull out a chair and sit down, missed, fell on the floor.....got back up, tried to shake my hand while saying "It's about fucking time you graduated. When are you moving out?" Nice memories.
As the years went by, time wasn't good to Ed. He had heart problems. He had diabetes. He had a bunch of mini strokes. He and my Mother ended up living in Vermont, on welfare. When I would go and visit, my Mom would ask me if she could borrow $10 for gas money. It was a sad turn of events for the man who owned a five bedroom home with an inground pool and a new Cadillac every year.
My Father went to Boston to have an operation on his legs. He had a massive heart attack while on the table. The leg operation, though, was a total success. Ed lived for three days and died in the middle of the night on his third day. For the man who was always making a "bang", he went out with a whimper. On welfare.
I had a bit of a nervous breakdown in the middle of Brigham and Women's Hospital the day Ed died. We had JUST started to get along. And to speak. And to be real. And then he died.
When my older sister visited my Mom that same year, she and I went out and had a chat on Mom's front porch. According to her, my Father was overly friendly with her and the two oldest sisters. My sister didn't know for sure if he had ever touched the boys, or the three youngest. As I said, I don't know what to believe. Not sure I want to know. He's dead. What could I possibly say or do to him now, if I did find out what I don't want to find out?
My boobs
I went for my very first mammogram on Thursday. And oh my goodness, how much fun was that? Holy Moly I just want to do it over and over again. Very similar, guys if you're reading this, to taking your family jewels and pressing them, HARD, between two cold bricks. Yeah, orgasmic.
Anyway, they told me that they would either call me on Thursday afternoon or Monday by day's end if they needed more shots (yeah cause you can never have enough photos of smashed nipples, that's what I say). Or I would receive a letter in the mail. I received the letter today! It made the sting of the over $2000 in insurance co-pays for my hospital stay last month a bit less painful.
Dear Melinda:
We are pleased that you have chosen Theda Clark Breast Center for your mammography needs. We appreciate the opportunity to provide a valuable healthcare screening service to you. Below, you will find the results of your recent mammogram with the appropriate recommendations:
NORMAL/WITHIN NORMAL LIMITS. NO EVIDENCE OF BREAST CANCER.
Anyway, they told me that they would either call me on Thursday afternoon or Monday by day's end if they needed more shots (yeah cause you can never have enough photos of smashed nipples, that's what I say). Or I would receive a letter in the mail. I received the letter today! It made the sting of the over $2000 in insurance co-pays for my hospital stay last month a bit less painful.
Dear Melinda:
We are pleased that you have chosen Theda Clark Breast Center for your mammography needs. We appreciate the opportunity to provide a valuable healthcare screening service to you. Below, you will find the results of your recent mammogram with the appropriate recommendations:
NORMAL/WITHIN NORMAL LIMITS. NO EVIDENCE OF BREAST CANCER.
Comfortably numb
Yes.
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.
Sad souls
Funny, I never really considered myself sad. When the doctor's go through their list of "must ask even if it's a silly question", questions, they always ask me how my depression is doing. How I'm feeling. How sad am I?
Well, from reading and re-reading my blog, it would appear that I should be pretty damned sad, huh? Man I've had a shitty life. But Man, do I have a great life now. What a difference a mere 34 years makes.
So I hear today from a friend who has this friend who really feels like he is me. Or me is he. Or we were sad soul mates in a past/present/future life. I don't know how we survive, us sad souls. If you read the words from a sad soul, it would appear that they are always on the edge, or SHOULD be on the edge. Or should have jumped off the edge a long time ago.
It's hard to describe how "we" survive. We move on and never ever ever forget about our pasts. "People" attempt to make you forget. "People" say you need to move on. "People" say, my God Mindi, it's been 34 years, time to be happy. But the problem is in the replaying of that day 34 years ago. It's not forgotten. It never will be. And in between then and now, there's the alcoholic father, the abusive ex husband, the loss of our babies, the cancer.
And there's also Mark, the bright light. The man who makes it possible for me to answer the doctors with, usually, an "I'm fine". And really, what more can you hope for? I have enough. I'm fine.
Well, from reading and re-reading my blog, it would appear that I should be pretty damned sad, huh? Man I've had a shitty life. But Man, do I have a great life now. What a difference a mere 34 years makes.
So I hear today from a friend who has this friend who really feels like he is me. Or me is he. Or we were sad soul mates in a past/present/future life. I don't know how we survive, us sad souls. If you read the words from a sad soul, it would appear that they are always on the edge, or SHOULD be on the edge. Or should have jumped off the edge a long time ago.
It's hard to describe how "we" survive. We move on and never ever ever forget about our pasts. "People" attempt to make you forget. "People" say you need to move on. "People" say, my God Mindi, it's been 34 years, time to be happy. But the problem is in the replaying of that day 34 years ago. It's not forgotten. It never will be. And in between then and now, there's the alcoholic father, the abusive ex husband, the loss of our babies, the cancer.
And there's also Mark, the bright light. The man who makes it possible for me to answer the doctors with, usually, an "I'm fine". And really, what more can you hope for? I have enough. I'm fine.
Wish You Were Here (Waters, Gilmour) 5:17
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skys from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade
Your heros for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skys from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade
Your heros for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Kind of mind boggling
Had all our children survived, we would now have a 7 year old boy, a 6 year old and a 2 year old.
Daniel's Story
My husband and I moved to Hutchinson, MN in 2004. I found a really good OBGYN a few months later. He was willing to try and help me get pregnant. Even his wife was okay with him trying to get me pregnant. Gosh I'm funny.
In February of 2005, I had a procedure done as an outpatient that sent dye through my tubes to see if there were any blockages. None seen. That same February, I went on Wellbutrin and somehow managed to quit a three-pack-a-day smoking habit. And then I started taking Clomid, a fertility drug. And Mark and I "got busy".
In October of 2005, Grampa Vince died. We had to leave to go to Upper Michigan. I had been feeling....different. I was tired. I was late. My boobs hurt. I took a couple pregnancy tests which came back positive, but we were highly skeptical and so just thought they were false positives. Off to the UP we went.
When we got back home and I had yet to start my period, I went for a blood test. My doctor called me and asked me if I were sitting down. When he told me I was pregnant, I said "Are you shitting me? 37 year old women don't GET pregnant" But I was!
Mark and I were both in shock. I, of course, wanted to immediately plan EVERYTHING! We were foster parents and already had two nurseries in our home, a boy and a girl nursery. So there wasn't a lot to plan! We were also in the middle of having court-ordered visitation with our first foster son. He was in full-family foster care with his Mom, but the judge had ordered that we have visitation, as he didn't think it was going to work out with birth family and he wanted to keep the bond with us. (It did end up working out for birth family, by the way!)
Fast forward January 4, 2006. We had just returned from a Christmas visit up north.
I was feeling weird all morning. Little twinges. Just off. I called my doctor who wasn't in that day and left a message. Was told to lay down for a while to see if twinges went away. I got back up to help Mark with folding the laundry (funny how clear these moments still are in my head). Felt a really big twinge, ran to the bathroom, where my water broke and baby Daniel was born.
Mark picked Daniel up, put him into a container, and we went to the hospital.
They made me stay overnight in the hospital. Mark laid on the floor beside me all night. The doctor came in and told us that our son appeared to be perfectly normal but he wanted to do some tests to find out what went wrong. He put us in touch with the local funeral home and we had Daniel cremated and got him a tiny little urn and a cherry wood memory box to put all his sonogram photos, pregnancy tests, cards and letters, and his urn.
Tests came back that Daniel was 100% normal, just born too soon. The official diagnosis was Incompetent Cervix. I just went into labor and my cervix opened up too soon.
We hadn't totally decided on a name at that point, but Mark mentioned the name Daniel and I loved it. We named him Daniel Lawrence, after Mark's brother who had passed away. This is a photo of Larry holding his son, beside Daniel's memory box and a couple baby blankets that were made for Daniel and for our second baby that we lost in August of that same year. There is now also a photo of my father-in-law Tom there, along with the infamous "bear mug".
Mark bought tickets for my birthday to go see Elton John in 2010. Elton did his greatest hits, and he sang this song....just for us or so it seemed. We think of Daniel every time we hear this song.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Song Lyrics
I really DO use musical association with just about every part of my life. This song was released at just about the time I was separating from, and getting ready to divorce, my ex-husband. Such perfect lyrics. Great for a good cry, if that's what you need. That's what I needed at the time.
I'm only pretty sure that I can't take anymore
Before you take a swing
I wonder
What are we fighting for
When I say out loud
I want to get out of this
I wonder
Is there anything I'm going to miss
I wonder How it's going to be
When you don't know me
How's it going to be
When you're sure I'm not there
How's it going to be
When there is no one to talk to, between you and me
'Cause I don't care
How's it going to be
How's it going to be
Where we used to laugh
There's a shouting match
Sharp as a thumbnail scratch
A silence I can't ignore
Like...
The hammocks by the doorway we spent time in
Swings empty, don't see lightning like last fall when it was always
about to hit
me
I wonder how's it going to be when it goes down
Hows it going to be
When your not around
Hows it going to be
When you found out there was nothing
Between you and me
'Cause I don't care
How's it going to be.
Hows it going to be
When you don't know me any more
And how's it going to be
Want to get myself back in again
The soft dive of oblivian
Wanna taste the salt of your skin
The soft dive of oblivian
Oblivian
How's it going to be
When you don't know me any more
How's it going to be
How's it going to be
I'm only pretty sure that I can't take anymore
Before you take a swing
I wonder
What are we fighting for
When I say out loud
I want to get out of this
I wonder
Is there anything I'm going to miss
I wonder How it's going to be
When you don't know me
How's it going to be
When you're sure I'm not there
How's it going to be
When there is no one to talk to, between you and me
'Cause I don't care
How's it going to be
How's it going to be
Where we used to laugh
There's a shouting match
Sharp as a thumbnail scratch
A silence I can't ignore
Like...
The hammocks by the doorway we spent time in
Swings empty, don't see lightning like last fall when it was always
about to hit
me
I wonder how's it going to be when it goes down
Hows it going to be
When your not around
Hows it going to be
When you found out there was nothing
Between you and me
'Cause I don't care
How's it going to be.
Hows it going to be
When you don't know me any more
And how's it going to be
Want to get myself back in again
The soft dive of oblivian
Wanna taste the salt of your skin
The soft dive of oblivian
Oblivian
How's it going to be
When you don't know me any more
How's it going to be
How's it going to be
P.S.
I really don't write these things out to bring about sympathy or to make anyone feel badly for me. It really is good to just get it out! It shows how far I've come, what I've learned, who I've been blessed with. There is a way of breaking free.
My ex-husband
I met Mark (yes, ex has same name as current) when I was 18 years old. I was working at Stratton Mt Ski Resort as a secretary for Villa Housekeeping, the housekeeping department that kept all the condos up to snuff. We had housekeepers working there as well as a few maintenance men. I became friends with Moose and Jamie......the two maintenance men.
We were all partying one night (it was a non-stop party at Stratton) and Jamie introduced me to "Yukon". Yukon aka Mark was 12 years older than me and held very little attraction for me. Very little. His looks were...not for me. He had bad teeth. He didn't much believe in grooming or taking care of his hygiene. That being said, he started pursuing me.
I was sent roses at my work. I was treated relatively nicely (remember I was young and single, so pretty much anything impressed me). After a couple months of his pursuance, I gave in and started dating him. What an idiot I was.
Once Mark had me, he was done trying. No more flowers. No more dates. No more pursuing. He virtually ignored me at times. Which made me want him even more, of course. Mark was a stoner. Mark smoked pot from the second he woke up until he went to bed. And at Stratton, he also started using coke. Quite the combination.
I was renting a house with two of my girlfriends, and Mark would show up when he felt like it. He wasn't working, much. Never did. I guess when he needed food or booze or sex, he'd come on by the house. When he needed money, he would find his way back to Ohio, to his Mom's house, stay there a while, get as much money as he could from her, and then come back to Vermont.
When I was.....20 I think? Mark had been living in Ohio for a few months. His Mom bought him some land out there and a trailer to live in. I finally convinced him that he needed me out there. I think he thought I could help by having a decent car and possibly finding work. I drove out there with everything I owned or could fit into my Plymouth Horizon. And the nightmare began.
This trailer he owned....was one of those tiny one room, turn the table into the bed at night, trailers. No bathroom, had to go a mile down the road to the campground bathroom. But at least we had running water and heat. I couldn't find a job to save my life. To feed us, Mark would break into campers he knew were vacant and scrounge up whatever food they had left behind for the winter;
Mark started hitting me. Mostly when he was angry that we had no food. Or if he didn't have enough money for his pot. It was a miserable existence. And then it got worse.
Mark lost his job at the campground, and so he and his friend decided to move the camper out to his land. No running water, no nearby bathrooms, no electricity. And then he would take my car and disappear for weeks on end. I wanted to die. I was living in the middle of the woods with no way out, cooking potatoes on an open fire because that's all there was to eat. And historically, when Mark returned with my car, I would make him angry when I complained, and so he'd hit me.
I finally woke up after a year or so and begged my parents to let me come back home to Vermont. I went and lived at their house, worked, paid rent. Had a normal life. And should have been done with Mark, had I had any self-esteem.
I ended up moving to New Hampshire. I had a good job, a nice place to live, made money, had people wanting to fix me up with their friends. Never took any of them up on it because I felt that it would have been cheating on Mark. God forbid.
I found my old friend Jamie again, he lived on state over. He was getting married and wanted me to come to the wedding. Surprise......Yukon was there. I wasn't going to do it...no way, not after the way he treated me. But then.....he gave me attention. He apologized. He made everything right. And so I got back together with him. Stupid Mindi.
Another couple years of Mark sponging off of me. Watching cartoons all day. Robbing places at night to support his drug habit. Mark used to give me fair warning. "If you don't shut up by the time I get to 10, I'm going to have to hurt you". And Mindi and her big mouth.....I used to go into work with strangulation marks on my neck, black eyes, slap marks. My co-workers wanted to kill Mark. But I kept going back.
And then we got married! October 19. 1991. Almost every guest at that wedding told me not to do it. When it came time for me to walk down the aisle (staircase), no one could find Mark. Or my sister. They were eventually found out in the garage, getting high. You see, the only way he could marry me was if he was high. That wedding night, we stayed at a hotel. And fought. And he shut me up. Again.
We lived in New Hampshire for a couple more years. I worked my ass off. He watched cartoons and disappeared to go to his Mom's house in OH. When my father died in 2003, we decided to move back to Vermont to be near my Mom. Found a place to rent, and left. I cried for days after my Father died. Not because he had passed away, because we had a really bad relationship....but because I KNEW that I would be moving back to Vermont. And I didn't want to leave my friends in NH.
He finally got a job in VT, such as it was. On and off, working once in a while, when he felt like it. And taking off when he felt like it. Maybe I was just jealous, because I was never the type to just take off....I like to think I'm a bit more responsible than that.
We rented a huge farmhouse. I started working dispatching ambulances. And I discovered AOL. I was on my computer at every moment I could be. I discovered that other men actually DID give me attention. Mark had always told me that I would never find anyone better than him. That no one would put up with me. And that I was too fat to find another man. And so in my warped mind, I set out to prove him wrong. And I proved him wrong over and over again.
Because I was getting to feel more "free", I was also putting up with a lot less from him. And I was paying the price. He tried to push me down the stairs a few times. Yanked me across the room by my hair. He did a lot of his counting back then. There were a few incidences that occurred that I was lucky to have made it out alive. I decided it was time to leave.
I found myself a beautiful little apartment and moved out. The last time I saw Mark, he had broken into my little apartment, and I came home to see him laying on my couch WITH HIS DIRTY BOOTS ON. I asked him to leave. Told him not to come back. He served me with divorce papers a few days later. YAY!!! I was so happy....free, broke, alone....and free.
Well now I'm exhausted and need more coffee. That's my ex husband story. And now I've been with "the good Mark" for 12 years, married for 10 years on June 21. And yes, there ARE men who will treat me better. Mark has never raised his voice to me, let alone his hand. And I love him for helping me see that I am worth it.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
A little good news today?
You cannot turn the news on today without reading some bad news! This world has turned into a scary place.
This morning.....Breaking news: Five reportedly dead in Illinois shooting; suspect in custody
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=568861706478300
and then there's that which makes me smile. Really, why the hell not? Why not be who you want to be? Who gives a shit? We're all going to die someday. Sooner than we think if we go by the recent statistics of all the idiots killing people for sport. Craziness.
And we're still trying to adopt a baby and still could use your help. Thanks!
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
https://www.mythirtyone.com/shop/catalog.aspx?eventId=E3149186&from=DIRECTLINK
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Musical association
Does anyone else have certain songs that they think were written about them specifically? Or songs that remind them of someone else? Let's play some musical association. These next few videos feel like they were written about me:
This one reminds me of Mark, and of our wedding. It was our wedding song!
This one reminds me of an ex friend and our teen years.
This song was actually written about an Irish Setter named Shannon. As a child, we had an Irish Setter named Shannon, who was killed in our front yard, run over by a truck.
This song, for some reason, was constantly playing in every single bar I went to in my early 20's....I associate it with lots of Tangueray and tonics.
I had a friend that I only knew from an AOL chat room. Her "screen name" was SisGldHair. We were friends for years. She was in remission from breast cancer but it came back and we lost her. This song always makes me think of her and smile.
Because Mark said
I have a 31 Gifts party going on right now....did you know that?
And this is the link to the party. If anyone orders today, they will have their name put into a hat for a drawing for a free bag!!
Anyway, Mark said I needed to order something else, so now, I already own this one:
and I ordered this one
and Mark just let me order this one
and I am getting this one
and this is the one I still want.
And this is the link to the party. If anyone orders today, they will have their name put into a hat for a drawing for a free bag!!
the Happiness Quiz
I scored only a 40% and have a lot of learning to do, apparently.
http://www.medicinenet.com/happiness_quiz/quiz.htm
I am going back to see my psychiatrist, and am discussing cognitive therapy. It's been suggested by many of my friends, and I spoke with my family doctor today about it. Apparently it will help my OCD mind distinguish between thinking of doing something and actually doing it. Normal people think and only sometimes act upon their thoughts? Who'd a thunk that? What about immediate gratification?
http://www.medicinenet.com/happiness_quiz/quiz.htm
I am going back to see my psychiatrist, and am discussing cognitive therapy. It's been suggested by many of my friends, and I spoke with my family doctor today about it. Apparently it will help my OCD mind distinguish between thinking of doing something and actually doing it. Normal people think and only sometimes act upon their thoughts? Who'd a thunk that? What about immediate gratification?
Cognitive therapy: A relatively short-term form of psychotherapy based on the concept that the way we think about things affects how we feel emotionally. Cognitive therapy focuses on present thinking, behavior, and communication rather than on past experiences and is oriented toward problem solving. Cognitive therapy has been applied to a broad range of problems including depression, anxiety, panic, fears, eating disorders, substance abuse, and personality problems.
Cognitive therapy is sometimes called cognitive behavior therapy because it aims to help people in the ways they think (the cognitive) and in the ways they act (the behavior). Cognitive therapy has, for instance, been used to help cocaine-dependent individuals become abstinent from cocaine and other substances. The underlying assumption is that learning processes play an important role in the development and continuation of cocaine abuse and dependence. These same learning processes can be used to help individuals reduce their drug use.
And just to prove that I have OCD......
https://www.mythirtyone.com/shop/catalog.aspx?eventId=E3149186&from=DIRECTLINK
https://www.mythirtyone.com/shop/catalog.aspx?eventId=E3149186&from=DIRECTLINK
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
The week of the doctors
Just back from my family practitioner appointment. Cholesterol looking good! Blood pressure 118/70. Diabetic foot check, passed. Talked to her about peri-menopause and possible solutions to my general feeling crappiness once a month. Possible hormone replacement. She tricked me into booking an appointment for a mammogram for Thursday.
Tomorrow, we go to Milwaukee. I have an appointment with the specialist, urological surgeon, who built my Indiana Pouch. Long trip, 1.5 hours. Dr. Dreamy is funny and a smart ass and quick with his appointments....so I'll get a little snooze in on the way there and back. Hoping they don't want to do the specialized testing with a ct scan and tubes of guck put through all the nooks and crannies. But if he doesn't do it, I have to have it done next week locally.
On Thursday, I have my first mammogram. Oh joy. Let's hope the results are quick and clear!
On Friday, I have a diabetic eye doctor appointment. They use the eye drops and look into the nerves in my eyes. I have my new frames already picked out!!
And then on Tuesday, I have a dental cleaning.
Don't you wish you were me?
Tomorrow, we go to Milwaukee. I have an appointment with the specialist, urological surgeon, who built my Indiana Pouch. Long trip, 1.5 hours. Dr. Dreamy is funny and a smart ass and quick with his appointments....so I'll get a little snooze in on the way there and back. Hoping they don't want to do the specialized testing with a ct scan and tubes of guck put through all the nooks and crannies. But if he doesn't do it, I have to have it done next week locally.
On Thursday, I have my first mammogram. Oh joy. Let's hope the results are quick and clear!
On Friday, I have a diabetic eye doctor appointment. They use the eye drops and look into the nerves in my eyes. I have my new frames already picked out!!
And then on Tuesday, I have a dental cleaning.
Don't you wish you were me?
Repeating myself
It's partially due to my OCD, partially due to my short term memory loss. Here's what my niece recently posted on Facebook:
Monday, April 22, 2013
These are a few of my favorite things!
These are a few of my favorite things!
When the dog bites, when the bees sting, when I'm feeling sad.......
https://www.mythirtyone.com/shop/catalog.aspx?eventId=E3149186&from=DIRECTLINK
25% of all party sales will be going to Mark and Mindi Piasecki to help them raise money so they can move forward in the adoption process!
If you would like to donate money directly to Mark and Mindi, you can go here:http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
Contact Amanda Rix on Facebook to join the event for more information on this family and their dreams of having a family.
These are a few of my favorite things!
When the dog bites, when the bees sting, when I'm feeling sad.......
https://www.mythirtyone.com/shop/catalog.aspx?eventId=E3149186&from=DIRECTLINK
25% of all party sales will be going to Mark and Mindi Piasecki to help them raise money so they can move forward in the adoption process!
If you would like to donate money directly to Mark and Mindi, you can go here:http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
Contact Amanda Rix on Facebook to join the event for more information on this family and their dreams of having a family.
When the dog bites, when the bees sting, when I'm feeling sad.......
https://www.mythirtyone.com/shop/catalog.aspx?eventId=E3149186&from=DIRECTLINK
25% of all party sales will be going to Mark and Mindi Piasecki to help them raise money so they can move forward in the adoption process!
If you would like to donate money directly to Mark and Mindi, you can go here:http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
Contact Amanda Rix on Facebook to join the event for more information on this family and their dreams of having a family.
When the dog bites, when the bees sting, when I'm feeling sad.......
https://www.mythirtyone.com/shop/catalog.aspx?eventId=E3149186&from=DIRECTLINK
25% of all party sales will be going to Mark and Mindi Piasecki to help them raise money so they can move forward in the adoption process!
If you would like to donate money directly to Mark and Mindi, you can go here:http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
Contact Amanda Rix on Facebook to join the event for more information on this family and their dreams of having a family.
Sometimes
People disappoint.
Friends disappoint.
Expectation is the root of all heartache.
Oh so true. But if you can't expect things from others....especially when they could expect the same from you? I believe in paying it forward. I believe in doing things for others without any expectation of a return favor. But on that same note.....shouldn't people WANT to help?
The best way to avoid disappointment is to not expect anything from anyone.
What a miserable life that would be though? The statement itself is true. It seems I get my heart broken any time I "expect" something from others. Except from Mark....he always does what he says he will do.
Don't put your hopes up too high. Don't expect too much, because the higher you are, the deeper you might fall.
I couldn't have said it better myself.
People never remember the million times you help them, only the one time you don't.
I can have amazing fundraisers for other people. But the one time I attempt to have one for myself and Mark, to help our dreams come true? Total flop.
Don't blame people for disappointing you, Blame yourself for expecting too much.
BINGO. I'm to blame.
Friends disappoint.
Expectation is the root of all heartache.
Oh so true. But if you can't expect things from others....especially when they could expect the same from you? I believe in paying it forward. I believe in doing things for others without any expectation of a return favor. But on that same note.....shouldn't people WANT to help?
The best way to avoid disappointment is to not expect anything from anyone.
What a miserable life that would be though? The statement itself is true. It seems I get my heart broken any time I "expect" something from others. Except from Mark....he always does what he says he will do.
Don't put your hopes up too high. Don't expect too much, because the higher you are, the deeper you might fall.
I couldn't have said it better myself.
People never remember the million times you help them, only the one time you don't.
I can have amazing fundraisers for other people. But the one time I attempt to have one for myself and Mark, to help our dreams come true? Total flop.
Don't blame people for disappointing you, Blame yourself for expecting too much.
BINGO. I'm to blame.
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