I'll admit it-- sometimes I get really angry at how "easy" other people have it in their lives. I mean, yeah, okay, everyone has their stress and troubles and hard times but some people just seem to have a charmed life, you know? Yes, my incredibly troubled and grueling life is definitely the source of some good points, such as the personal strength, insight, and empathy that I have honed, but sometimes it'd be nice to just have it kinda easy for a while you know? And it hasn't been. My whole life, without exaggeration, has been one fight or another for sustenance, sanity, survival… what's up with that?

And then, just when everything was finally going my way… my health tanks. I was so happy. I was in school, pursuing my dream career, I was planning my wedding, working hard for a cause that I loved with a boss that adored me, I'd paid off my school debt, made huge headway in counseling… I had it made, man. I was good. Things were looking up. But then, then, everything fell apart around me and life is harder than it's ever been. Maybe. Life was really hard during the decade plus of abuse too, though. It's hard to say.

It's just not fair, man. And it pisses me off.

However…

There is good news. I have finally found a doctor that is both willing and able to help me with my pain! I'm diagnosed with "intractable pain" which, according to Wikipedia, is "a severe, constant pain that is not curable by any known means and which causes a bed or house-bound state and early death if not adequately treated, usually with opioids and/or interventional procedures. It is not relieved by ordinary medical, surgical, nursing, or pharmaceutical measures. Unlike the more common chronic pain, it causes adverse biologic affects on the body's cardiovascular, hormone, and neurologic systems." (emphasis mine) Doctors kept getting hung up on "fibromyalgia" and "chronic pain", missing the bigger picture of my pain, but this doctor gets it, and he wants to help me very much. I could cry. It was seriously everything that I had hoped for.

This is the dr's website, Dr. Porcelli. I have to drive 4 hours to get there, but to get my life back? SO worth it.

I was incredibly nervous, because I was afraid that I was just going to get shut down again and I have nowhere else to turn for help but the emergency room, and that is horrendously expensive. (Seriously… I have no idea how I'm going to pay all of the ER bills. *sigh*) He was very cheerful, funny, and engaging right from the get-go, though, and we chatted and joked back and forth the whole time. He looked at my chart and symptom list and was immediately like, "Yes, you definitely suffer from intractable pain! You've got one foot in the grave, huh? Just one banana peel away from packing it in!" (I thought that was funny. This was after he saw the "draw these shapes on this outline of a body to describe what kind of pain you have and where" chart that I filled out. It was pretty well covered in scribbles.) He thinks that with proper pain management I can actually go back to work part time in the future! Also, after a physical examination he discovered that my eyes have been damaged some from the pain, but they will heal when my body calms down.

The plan is to do a long acting opioid with a lower dose one for breakthrough pain. The ones he gave me this month aren't working very well and I'm still spending about 5 or 6 hours a day soaking in the tub, but we can address that at my next appointment. I'm working on getting physical therapy started, trying to do regular massages, and I'm also starting a few supplements (vitamin C, sublingual b12, omega 3 fatty acid, etc.) to boost my general health. I really want to start eating healthier again now that I'm more capable, but really, I'm basically just happy to have meds at all and to know that things are only going to get better from here! I mean, today my friend the Artist came over and helped me clean the house, and I was able to do quite a bit! The house is so tidy now. Ahhhh… we got to things that I've been wanting done for months, or at the very least since I got out of the hospital. It feels good to see my home in order again.

Also, I applied for disability this past Monday, and it was actually a really fun experience thanks to the lady who did my interview. I should get word in about 3 to 6 months, and she says that it's about a 50-50 chance as to whether I'm approved or denied. We'll see. I'm definitely going to appeal if I'm denied, no worries about that.

Oh, and I'm going to make an appointment with a geneticist this next week. Still pursuing further diagnosis, especially since Dr. Porcelli agreed adamantly that while fibro is part of my problem, it is definitely not the entire issue that is causing me to be so sick and in so much pain. So… we shall see. I've got my money on hEDS (Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, hypermobility type). I fit the criteria so, so, so well, and a large majority of EDSers are either misdiagnosed or not diagnosed at all. The most common misdiagnosis is fibromyalgia, from what I understand.

I'm learning to live with this broken body, even as I try to figure out in what ways exactly it's broken, but it's not easy. I'm pretty resentful at times, especially when I can't get the help or answers I need or when I see my peers traipsing around and fulfilling dreams and stuff that I wanted to do and cannot join in on and will possibly never recover enough to achieve.

Like pregnancy. Due to the nature of my pain, I will probably be on strong pain medication for the rest of my life. That's just a fact of my life. (Ugh, my poor organs…) The implications of that, however, mean that I would have to stop my pain meds (and a couple others) in order to carry a baby, and that's not something that is feasible for me at all. Remember how I ended up in the hospital and ER a ton last month? Yeah. Just like that. And do you think that the stress of being so sick and in so much pain would be good for a developing fetus at all? Not a chance. Either way, my baby is at a distinct disadvantage while residing in my womb.

I'm never going to be able to carry a baby of my own, and that grieves me something awful.

People don't understand. I've shared with a couple of friends, and with Drogo, but the response I get is "Don't worry, you can adopt! There are other options. Have you thought of surrogacy?"

You guys. That's not the point, not the point at ALL! I know I can adopt or do a surrogate pregnancy. Creating offspring is not the issue here, the issue is that I am never going to be able to carry a baby or give birth, and that's something I've wanted for a long, long time. It's just another precious dream ripped callously from my heart and tossed carelessly on the midden. I don't care if I can adopt; I care that the vaunted experience of childbearing, one that I've already had bitter experiences with, is now beyond my grasp, through no fault of my own, and there's nothing I can do about it.

But folks don't seem to catch that, even after I explain, so… I just let it go. Whatever. Who cares if Cassie's world and future is shrinking and dulling, hope and happiness sloughing off like dried up scabs?

Prolly more thoughts on this later, I dunno. Right now I'm just copying and pasting a post I sent out in one of my closer-knit fibro support groups this morning.

Well, I sure feel invalidated as hell this morning. I posted that AWESOME picture that I tagged y'all in (I'll include it here for those who I'm not friends with outside of the group) and not only does everyone think that I'm sitting here with a knife to my wrist apparently, I got a message in the wee hours of the morning and one that was there when I signed on this morning, and I dunno if you guys will catch the same vibe as I do but I'm totally getting the message that "you're too negative and you focus on your pain too much; knock it off and be cheerful, eh?" which is incredibly discouraging and angering and all kinds of things that I really just don't know how to articulate. Thoughts?

Last night's message: "Hello? I'm I don't know who you are and you don't need who I am but I am one of R's friends and somehow I've been able to see your posts on my bulletin... is something wrong? I've been kinda feeling down too but I shouldn't be.

Sorry so many typos on there lol.

I meant to say we don't know each other. I've been seeing the... negative stuff you've been posting. So I wanted... to know what was wrong... if you wanted to tell me. I can understand if you find it weird to talk to someone you don't know about something so personal but... I'm going to be moving out of AZ in May and I'mm feeling kinda down too so I thought it would be worth a shot."

This morning's message from a different person (Note: she had asked to be untagged in the photo because it looks bad for her, professionally as an actress.): "Yeah it was a cool piece but yeah most of the people who still use Facebook are actors directors producers etc so I stopped putting anything on there about pain or pretty much anything negative or if I do I try to make it funny. I stopped my blog a couple months ago my pain is what it is it's been two years this is where it will likely stay thinking about it just gives it power. Can I suggest something for you to read? Maybe you are not at a point where it's something yiu can absorb I wasn't ready when I bought it a few years ago read three pages and out it away but the secret has changed my life even before I read it. I started living the law of attraction and yes I still have a bad day but I'm very cautious about what I think and say bc what you think about you bring about. I'm a therapist and never got any if this but so much has changed w my pain my acting everythjng that I have to believe there is truth. Google it and try it for a couple weeks maybe it will help. I don't go to meetings lol I don't do anything other than watch my thinking patterns Just a thought from what I see in your patterns "

I responded, and I'll post that too if you want, but this response to MY response just makes me even more frustrated (but I KNOW that wasn't the intent, to attack, I guess I'm just sensitive???).

Note: Here's my response, for clarity's sake. "I get what you're saying, and that's something that I *do* try to live in my life. I'm very conscious of my thought patterns and I monitor my thoughts and feelings quite closely (hence why I blog and talk to my husband and besties all. the. time.). For me, though, it's more than just "don't think of negative things" whatever. I've learned that--and this is just for me, you understand, because I tried it the other way and it just made me miserable-- it is more healthy and productive to acknowledge whatever negative thoughts or feelings I have, think/talk through them, and then move on with my life. I don't wallow except on rare occasions, because everyone needs a pity party day once in a while I think, especially ppl who hurt all the damn time. But for me it's best for my mental and emotional health to acknowledge the stuff that ain't so positive, try to find something funny in it, and keep going.

The "don't think about negative things and you won't bring negative things into your life" dealie just doesn't work for me. And that's okay. I'm glad it has done a lot for you. For me, I put as much love and light out into the world as I can, and I get a TON back in return. But I don't dare gloss over the bad parts because it all just festers and creates "disease" in my life. Not the physical disease, of course (though our emotions and whatnot DO have an effect on our physical health as I'm sure you're well aware), but… oh, how to explain it? Anyway, I've known waaaaaay too many people that pretend nothing is wrong, ever, and we should only think and talk about positive things, etc. for me to want to go back to that kind of thinking intentionally. (And it could be that what I've experienced/read/seen is a distortion of what YOU are talking about… I mean, connotation is a hard thing to convey. You say "banana" and we will each have a different image that pops into our head and different feelings about the word though the core concept is the same. Try that with the word "love" or "happiness" and things get crazy lol) It's been my experience, working with abuse survivors, that acknowledging the negative stuff and processing it appropriately is what robs it of power, not pushing it away in favor of focusing on the positive. I believe that there's a balance of the two that can and must be achieved for optimal emotional and mental health. Maybe that balance doesn't always come across on Facebook, but this IS the place where a lot of my support system is located, and also where I try to raise awareness about the very real nitty gritty of what it's like to live with chronic pain, chronic depression, chronic illnesses and diseases, and PTSD and other abuse survivor related issues. On a totally unrelated note, have you ever thought about creating a facebook page strictly for your professional life? One of my artist friends has done that because of some of the same things you mentioned-- potential employers/buyers, professional peers, etc. It's a way for her to display her portfolio and other business related stuff without it getting cluttered in with her personal stuff or lost and vice versa."

"Thoughts are def hard to convey here bc yes I def still acknowledge the bad things and I've had a lot. I had a bad couple days and I have allowed myself to feel upset and angry it's more how I think about it that changed. I guess my perspective is different. I found out heartbreaking news about my ex acknowledged it would make me sad processed it talked to a couple people quickly but cautious of the words I used when talking about my future for me not the universe and then it passed. Everyone is different. I guess I've been thru so much bad in my life including men hurting me and pain obesity and have fought so hard I finally just found a balance or something that works. I don't tell most people about it bc it sounds too new age even to me lol. But I thought I'd ask but I get it's not for everyone. I'm also alone so I have to do things different. My support system is here but not much emotionally and I have no spouse or anyone to talk to or depend in to listen it say it will be ok. It's all up to me and that's ok. I've never been my own rock and I'm learning
Well I'm glad u have a way that works . Feel better"

So I guess I'm just super irritated because I'm always very self-conscious about how I come across, whether it's appropriate or if I'm being too negative or angry, etc. I know she's just trying to help, but it feels just as invalidating as someone who knows just what I choose to present to the world regarding my pain coming up and telling me that I've probably been handling it all wrong and this is what helped them and I should consider doing it that way. Wait, come to think of it… that's happened to me countless times, with all of my diseases. And my food allergies. And it pisses me off, guys! I'm just like, you know what? Even if I chose to be completely negative and wallow in my misery and my pain and my agony and not try to find the positive and do my best and find humor in the situation and be totally authentic about my struggles and where I'm at, that is my right. That is my right as a sick person and that is my right as a healthy person. So stop fucking telling me how to handle my shit, okay?!

I was so pleased with myself because I've progressed so far on acceptance of my fibro diagnosis and that I'm not going to find an underlying disease to treat and miraculously recede my fibro to livable, which is a hope that I was clinging to until the "just fibro" appointment earlier this month. I've come across some well of determination, hope, and inspiration that I thought had dried up long since, beaten down by the daily grind of such incredible levels of pain and other miseries, and life is looking up for me. And then… this.

Maybe it's no coincidence that just when I seem to be getting my feet under me in whatever battle I'm fighting (emotions, facing and processing and healing from abuse, fighting depression, my health, my food allergies, etc.) something comes along that tries to knock me on my ass again. Maybe I am just too open and authentic. Maybe I leave myself vulnerable to attack. Maybe I leave myself vulnerable to those who think they know better. God, why are there so many of those people in the world?!

Anyway, I'm quite irritated, angry, frustrated, guilty and not sure if it's legitimate guilt or totally illegitimate and false… Because of the crazy dysfunctional environment of most of my life, I have a hard time telling false guilt from legitimate guilt, and I tend to take on guilt that isn't mine and shouldn't be aimed at me at all. So I never quite trust the guilty feelings anymore, because I know that it quite probably isn't true or to be trusted. Generally, I'm above reproach. ;) So this is why I blog and openly put things out there in social media, to get the feedback of the wide network of people that I trust. I thought I could trust this chick; she's a fibro warrior too, a psychologist, an abuse survivor… but she took the opportunity to slip the sword between the ribs, probably all the while thinking that she was just helping me let out the bad blood and balance my humors! And that just goes to show that you can't trust everyone with your pain. According to her theory, I suppose I should stop this blogging and sorting through my thoughts. Which, as we all know, is baloney for me, as this blog is the thing that has helped me sort through my thoughts and feelings in a semi-coherent manner for years. I suppose that's what smarts the most-- the suggestion that my coping methods aren't good enough, that I've been doing it wrong this whole time and any progress I've made is incidental.

Enough ranting for the day, I suppose. I just had to get all this out there, and boy do I feel better! Whew. It's no longer roiling inside me in a jumbled mess, confusing me and making me heart-sick. Ahh. I seriously feel as though I can physically breathe better now.

Suck it, actress lady. You have your ways and I have mine, and mine are fucking awesome. And no, I'm not still bitter. :P

1. Cry. A lot. Not those little sissy tears, either, that dramatic one-tear-down-the-cheek. No, I'm talking a good old fashioned bawling and gasping and keening your grief until you're weak in the knees and you can barely stand.

2. Pray. Somehow. For something. Even if you are not sure it'll do anything. They don't even have to be coherent words. (Many people choose to combine steps one and two.)

3. Bring someone you trust in the room to catch you when you keel over, to hold your arms down to keep you from hurting yourself (and them),  to remind you to breathe and keep you from hyperventilating, and to slap you in the face with truthful statements. Trust me-- you'll need that.

4. Talk about it.

5. Sleep on it. You're way too emotionally wiped to do anything else, even though you don't feel like sleeping.

6. Somewhere between steps 1 and 5, have a cup of tea to calm you down. It works wonders.

7. Blog about it. Even if you can't find the words, and can barely bear to obliquely reference what's going on, it still helps to get even a speck of the turmoil out, or at least to break through the numbing haze that you're wandering around in.

8. Cry some more. At any time. Really, it's okay. Expected, even.

9. Do what you gotta do. In this case (hello, unexpected twist), it's going door to door.

At least, this is what I did last night and today.

I was doing fine yesterday morning and early afternoon, but when I came home from work something twisted inside of me, and I just crashed. I was depressed, and a few things after that contributed to a desperate, sad kind of mood. I was trying to be optimistic and look on the positive side, and I could see good things, but the mood just wouldn't go away.

Went out to dinner with L and some of her friends, and I ate soy. Quite a bit of it. So I wasn't feeling well when I got home, not to mention that E was texting me about work stuff and for some reason I was really annoyed by it, so I made a strawberry glaze pie.

I texted C that I needed to talk to him, but when he got home I gave him the cold shoulder. I just didn't feel confident enough to broach the topics that I needed to, and I was feeling too down and "I just don't care anymore" to even try. I learned something last night-- C's automatic response when someone is upset is to leave them alone and figures they'll talk when they're ready. That's how he works. Mine is the opposite-- I want him to "come after me" when I'm upset, otherwise I feel like he doesn't care. But he was trying to care for me by giving me my space. Isn't that funny?

Anyway, when I finally did talk to him later, we discussed how I feel like I'm just part of the scenery to him now... and how we are basically ships in the night because of our different work and sleep schedules. He shared that he doesn't want to smother me and how he has been trying to take care of me because he doesn't want me to get burnt out by staying up super late with him. Oh, that man. I love him. (Even though I was so down yesterday that I contemplated leaving... again. That's me-- the runner. Sometimes I feel like I'm bipolar or something.)

So we agreed to have a "date night", a time for just us once a week, that way we'll be sure to be spending time with each other. He gets to choose what we do one week, I get to choose the next. I'm glad for that.

We didn't talk about that till after the crisis, though. I was grouching off to bed, when I heard my phone going off, and almost didn't get it.

It was my sister, K, and she was crying. I couldn't understand her at first, but I finally got the story out of her. She said that Mom and R were in the garage, and he was pushing her. When K went out to the garage to defend Mom from R ("Leave my Mom alone!!"), he grabber her by the shoulders and pushed her up against the wall, yelling at her. Mom told J to call the police, and she did. (It resulted in R being arrested, though he bonded out last night, with a 5 day no-contact order.)

I made sure K and the baby were ok (they were), and told her that I was sorry and that I wish I could just scoop them all up and bring them here. Apparently, that stuck out to her, because she mentioned that to Mom when she told me that she had called me. I told her that I couldn't do anything for her but pray with her, and would she like me to do that? She sniffled yes. I said, "Okay, let's pray right now," and she sniffled the affirmative again. I had managed to keep the tears back until I started praying, but then I lost it and was crying and trying to pray at the same time. I don't really remember what I said, but it was something along the lines of praying for their safety, for God to just wrap them up and love on them and to bring about healing and health. It helped her calm down some, and I stayed on the phone with her until the cops showed up.

After we hung up, I pretty much lost it. (Cue step 1.) I combined steps one and two, and implemented step 3 after a few minutes of solitary grieving. Though there had been tension between C and I (my fault), he practically leapt to my side when I opened the bedroom door, still crying, and asked him to come with me. Poor S... in typical guy fashion, he saw me crying and thought, "Girl crying? I'm out." He finally came out of his room a good forty five minutes to an hour later.

So C came in and held me up while I cried, then helped me over to the bed and just plain held me while I cried some more... tried to calm me down, then held me while I wracked my way through another bout of convulsive tears. I calmed down eventually, and then I was able to talk to him about what was bothering me earlier, and it was good.

Mom called a while later, after everything was said and done, and she straightened out some of the story for me. R had taken away her credit cards a few days ago, and was in her face, yelling at the top of his lungs about money, so she pushed him to get away, and he pushed her back, and so they had this pushing battle, I guess. That's when K came in, and while R was distracted, Mom mouthed to J to call the cops, which she did. Mom and R began having a sane, civilized conversation, but then the cops came. After hearing all sides of the story, they said they needed to arrest someone, and though Mom volunteered, they took R. The cop who spoke to Mom was miffed, esp. about R taking away her credit cards. He also brought up his concerns with the fact that she is the one who volunteered to be arrested. (As did I-- too much of what she says sounds like the abused ladies that come through our agency..) He did say, however, that the arrest won't affect R's job negatively.

Mom told me that R can be very giving and generous at times (like Christmas, when he offered to pay for my schooling), but when he feels like he's losing control, he turns into this super selfish miser. He tries to control everyone and everything around him, and Mom gets the brunt of that. She doesn't feel like she's herself anymore, because there are things about her that R doesn't like, so she's tried to change that... like her spontaneity, her joking, etc. She feels like she's lost a part of herself, and she's trying to get that back.

I told her that if she came to Y, the HJ would be more than happy to utilize her. She says she won't leave until J graduates from the school she's at now, though, because it's such an amazing school and J is doing so well there. That's my mom. She puts us kids first no matter what.

The worst part is that R was yelling at Mom, saying he has no money to pay the credit card bill because he just paid for my classes and spent a couple of hundred on my dentist bill, etc. So I feel like it's partially my fault, all this crazy mess... and I still have some doctor's bills that have showed up, but I'm not going to ask him to pay for them. I'll do it myself.

While in the initial stages of shock all I could think about, all I could say, was that... I'm their protector. I'm K's big sister. I'm supposed to be there for them, to keep them safe, but I couldn't. I didn't. I'm not there, I'm here, and there's nothing I can do. I failed them, somehow. (Ah, but C reminds me that it's not my fault, I didn't do this, and I can't stay at home my whole life, trying to protect them from everything. It's not my responsibility.)

I failed them by not being there, by not keeping them safe... and I failed them by trusting R.

How many father figures must I lose?

I've been betrayed.

I trusted him, and worse than that, I loved him.

This isn't the first time something like this has happened... and I told him I disapproved, strongly, but I still loved him.

Oh, God... it feels like the past is playing itself all over again...

I don't know what to think about him anymore. He was my dad, my father, the best one I've ever had... but he's hurting my family... crushing my mom's spirit slowly... What do I do with that?

Because I want to trust him... but I just don't know what to do anymore. It feels like I let the enemy into the camp, and now I'm kicking myself.

People make mistakes, but where do you draw the line?

And if Mom leaves? Do I still consider him my dad? What do I do with that? When he comes back in 4 days? The next time he calls me? Do I just pretend that I don't know? Do I say something? Do I stand up to him, call him out? What do I do?!?!?!???


It sucks to feel so responsible, yet to be so far away... the only thing I can do is pray, and I don't even know if that'll do anything.

Once again, I take away the lesson that it really is better to just never trust, never love... you only get betrayed, disappointed... again and again...

C vehemently denies this, of course.

And I keep asking him, "Are you sure we can make this work? Are you sure this is worth it?" It's just another example of that scenario where I think a marriage is functional, I think it's going to work, and then I find out that it's a lie.

Who gets married intending to get divorced? But who gets married and does more than just grimly stick it out, anyway? I want more than tight-lipped endurance. I want happy, healthy, and functional. Is marriage even real?

C is not like R. He and I both intend to go the distance... but doesn't everyone?

So I finally fell asleep around 4 or 5 this morning... I don't recall what time it was. Today, I've been mostly sad and heavy, pretty numb all day.

It's just like... fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..... what's the point? Really, what is the point?

They're all abusers, aren't they?

Even the ones you love.

(I know, intellectually, that it's not my fault... but I still feel the heavy weight of responsibility for my little brood.)

Just tentatively said yes to leading DV group this week as well. :-\

L's out of town, E's out of town, so...

I'll have a co-pilot, though, and the material will be provided. *Whew*. It's just a matter of facilitating.

Can I do it? Of course I can! The change comes from within the ladies, as they relate to the material. I'm just there to make sure we get out on time! lol

I refuse to even think for a second that "I cannot do this," because I can. Young or not, I've got insights, because I've lived through it.

...Right?

This is an extremely interesting article about a "new approach" to school discipline adopted by a principal in Washington. Having attended in one of those "dumping ground" schools described for a couple of years, this hits home for me. The article also talks about ACE scores (Adverse Childhood Experiences) in relation to the troubled teens at the school, and how "A whopping 70 percent of the 17,000 people in the study had an ACE score of at least one; 87 percent of those had more than one. With an ACE score of 4 or more, things start getting serious. The likelihood of chronic pulmonary lung disease increases 390 percent; hepatitis, 240 percent; depression 460 percent; suicide, 1,220 percent.

The percentages climb to grim and astounding levels as the ACE score climbs – people with an ACE score of 6, for example, have a 4,600 percent increase in the risk of becoming an IV drug user. Grow up with an ACE score of 10, and you’re likely to find yourself homeless, in prison for life, or end up dead by your own hand. People with high ACE scores die, on average, 20 years earlierthan those with low ACE scores."

I found a link later in the article to see what my score is.

I have an ACE score of 9.
(The only reason I didn't go 10 for 10 was because none of mom's boyfriends or husbands beat her up in front of me.)

What I want to know is... why aren't a crack addict hooker on the streets? Or imprisoned? Or... dead?

God, you have been merciful to me, and I am grateful.

As a dear friend pointed out, what's the point of a secret blog unless you can write about your secrets? It's been driving me crazy... I feel like I've been living a double life. I need to blog... but I can't... because I need to keep this secret...

I just found out two days ago that my little sister is pregnant. She is, apparently, a little scared, but mostly excited. She's almost 20.

I don't really know how I feel about it... I mean... I feel sorry for the baby, 'cause she's very moody. But maybe having a child will change some things? Her boyfriend had better be a man and step up to be a part of this child's life, or he's gonna have a colporteur-turned-headhunter hot on his trail.

She's going to stay at home with Mom and R, and the timing is near perfect (as far as these things go), because they just sold the house in IN, and R's been wanting to remodel the house anyway. (They bought it with that intention.) So, now he's going to remodel it so that K has a room and a little nursery area in the basement, J will have a room and bathroom in the basement, and Jr will have his own room upstairs. Mom and R will get a master suite upstairs, as well.

Also, Mom will be around for guidance, to help her. Plus I know Mom is stoked about finally having a grandbaby- she's been bugging me about that for years!

And I almost made her dream come true.

I just don't see how it's fair, really, that K- the immature, moody, not-a-functioning-member-of-society-yet one- gets to keep her baby (so far), and I... I'm having a miscarriage. How is that fair?

Technically, I'm not pregnant, because I haven't gotten a positive test back yet. It was too early to know. But when you know your body... sometimes you just know. Granted, I vacillated between thinking, "Oh yeah, for sure I'm pregnant, there's no way I'm NOT!" and "Yeah, right. I must be crazy! How could I be pregnant? No, I'm certainly making this up, it's all in my head, etc." But the more time went on, the more certain I was. 96% sure.

And now? Now... nothing.

Life will go on as planned, I guess.

And I'm slightly devastated. Just as I predicted.

The whole "I don't want kids, I don't want a family, I don't want to settle down" thing... nothing but a protective shell. If I say I don't want it, then when I don't get it, I won't be crushed. If you don't hope, you can't be disappointed. This showed me that I do want a family, I do want a husband, I do want children... and I really wanted this baby.

I mean, sure, it was going to completely screw up my life, and I was scared as all get out, but... it's a child. My child.

I didn't tell anyone, for understandable reasons. I mean, it wasn't even confirmed yet. And there's always that off chance that I was wrong, and that there was something else accounting for my typical pregnancy symptoms.

But I knew. And I allowed myself to get excited, to look towards the future...

It was going to be a baby girl, I think.

But now it's nothing.

I'm still cramping, in a lot of pain, and bleeding, but the bleeding hasn't gotten very heavy yet, and I haven't passed any big clots yet, so.... maybe there's still a chance? *Revision: I think it's too late, now...*

I'm trying everything I can to keep this baby. I can't bring myself to dismiss this situation with a trite, "The Lord Knows Best", because my heart is aching and bleeding too.

But either way... Mom gets to be a Gramma. And I look forward to holding my first niece or nephew. A December baby, I think, which coincides perfectly with my annual visit home! :)

And it was pretty funny that K and I were pregnant at the same time... Poor R. lol.

I don't know how this will all turn out. But I know that I have a lot of people that will love me regardless of what happens... and that's a great comfort.

...what have I gotten myself into?

I'm not really sure how to handle this. Mom's having repressed memories surfacing now, and talking to her siblings about them... they created a sort of timeline of certain events, which triggered the memories to come forth from their murky grave. And on one hand I'm honored that Mom feels she's able to talk with me about this, but on the other hand, I'm horrified to hear what happened to her as a child. She describes the bruises that were commonplace, all the way from her armpits to her knees, the skin splitting and scabbing because of repeated beatings that layered welts over welts... my uncle being locked in a sewing closet for six weeks because of the errors in his schoolwork. (Come to find out, he's dyslexic. That's why he had such trouble with school. The beatings, the isolation... none of that helped any. Did they think it would?) I thought I went through hell. Yeah, right. My childhood was a walk in the park compared to my mom's.

My mom's dad, who was the main abuser, is dead. My gramma, who was the enabler and sometimes abusive herself (still not sure where she was on the spectrum of things) is still alive and well. When she came down with cancer, she went through chemo, and apparently lost a lot of her memory. Mom says that gramma doesn't remember any of what she was telling me this morning. She's lost it, or repressed it herself. And even Mom says that Gramma is a different person now, not who she used to be.

But that doesn't change the fact that I'm living with... that.

I've never experienced her to be abusive at all. Passive agressive, yeah. But abusive? No way! I mean, just this morning, she told me I was doing "a bang up job around the place" (i.e. keeping the place nice and clean-- we're both neat-nicks).

It's just weird.

But I got to pray with my mom. And I got to empathize with her. I didn't have all these memories crashing in on me at once like she did, and it's no wonder she's having a hard time handling it. I get that. I've been through the darkness that's so thick and deep you think it's going to eat you alive. So I shared some of my experiences with her... but I also shared the hope of God's healing. It's hard now, but it's worth it. She's seeing her counselor on Monday.

And THAT in and of itself is a miracle of God's timing. They didn't even have a counselor until last week, and that started because I had been doing counseling myself, and was able to share with R how inexpensive our insurance made it, which he didn't know.

So after I prayed with Mom, I went for a walk. I have a lot of feelings swirling inside me right now, too. Anger. Disgust. Sadness. Grief. Righteous rage. (Can I call it that? It's WAY more than indignation!) Uncertainty.

This should never, EVER happen to a child!! Dear God, why is my family so sick? Why this generational sweep of pain and hurt and dysfunction? What does this mean for me? Is there some sort of inherent flaw in our genetic code? I tell you this much-- it stops here. No child will ever, ever experience those things from me. No child, and no person. It stops here.

Sweet Jesus, please come soon. We're falling apart...

Today was significant.

I spent more money than I'm comfortable with, but it was all on necessities (vet bills, car repairs... those can sure add up!). Got my poor epileptic kitty on meds, which is good, and got de-worming meds and ear mite meds for cats across the board. (That's what was so expensive! Five cats on two different types of medicines?! Gee whilliker!)

I got a lot accomplished at work, and I'm feeling good about the rest of the week. I was daunted by the amount of work my boss seems to think I can accomplish, but I'm beginning to think she might be right. Also, these longer hours are translating to a good paycheck for me later, which I can definitely use.

We had our first practice for the Christmas Concert. I see some bugs that need to be worked out, but I think it will go okay. Our group of kids is so spastic and hyperactive, it's unreal! But, hey, that's what happens when you work with kids, eh? Fortunately, all the parents are on board behind me, so I don't feel quite exactly like I'm drowning. But the thought of trying to iron out any more details is, well... overwhelming. *sigh*

Upon arriving home, I checked my email to find that I'm accepted into the school in California! Whoo! Whoo! Whoo! I made it! :)

That means I'll really and truly be heading down south in just a few short weeks. Eight, to be exact. That's two months. And I know I've been itching to be on my own and independent lately, but today I realized... I need to slow down and enjoy this time here. It's all I've got left. Once it's over, it's over. I'm not coming back, at least not in this same way. I won't be living with the S's anymore. Hmm. What an odd thought. I'm leaving home, for good. (Ahhh!)

Fly free, little birdie.

On another note of craziness... got a text from D last night. Totally unexpected, and the content was more than unexpected. The first thing I see is a gorgeous picture of the sun reflecting off of completely snow-covered mountains rising above a road and a stretch of snow and bare trees. Then, as I scroll down, I read this message:

Working in Valdez, ak. its strange but i have been thinking about u. i know u r what i need. but i cant stop chasing what i want. i think about u a lot and that scares me. u r in my prayers.


Needless to say, I freaked out and ran to C's room so she could pray with me. That helped me re-focus, and I went to bed... but I thought about it throughout the day today. Basically, the conclusion I came to is this: I need to leave him right where I found him-- in the hands of God. I can't do anything about this situation, nor is it my place to. This is something he has to work out between himself, God, and his own heart. So I'm praying for him, but I'm going to keep doing what I've been doing... just being a friend. Praying for him. Going forward with what I feel God is calling me to.

I've learned quite a bit since our breakup, but I know I still have a long way to go.

It's just hard, because... I thought we were done. And now my heart is aching a little again.

Like, seriously... what does that even mean?!


I did reply, though. I didn't just leave him hanging. That would be cruel! I recognize that it took a lot of guts for him to send that. I wrote back:

I thank you for your honesty. i have no idea how to respond to that... i thought we were done, so it's confusing to me. you're in my prayers too.

*sigh* Boys...

So what, really is love?

What I mean is, how do you know when you love someone?

And by that, I mean how do you know you love someone beyond the principle of selfless love that we're supposed to have for all mankind?

Of course, by that I mean how do you know when you are in love with someone... romantically? (Enough to marry them?? 'Cause, really, you can love anyone, when you look at it from the standpoint of "love is a principle, not a feeling". You could marry anyone in the world and love them. But how do you know when you love them?)

I went to my friend's wedding shower. It was eye-opening, to say the least. I had a few revelations.

Firstly, this whole wedding thing is A LOT of work! Yikes!

Secondly, I realized that, though I daydream about being married sometimes, and I think about my wedding... the whole sex thing is scary! I'm not ready for this! Funnily enough, I've thought in the years since I left my fiance, Hmm. I miss sex. Boy, it'll be great to be married someday so I can do that again.

But with my poor, innocent eyes being barraged by a plethora of lingerie, I'm beginning to seriously reconsider my thoughts on the situation. I'm just not comfortable with the idea of anyone seeing my body but me. Even my husband. Especially my husband. I mean... what if he doesn't like it? What if he doesn't like me? I would feel so awkward parading around in basically nothing. I'm just not that confident. The thought is very, very scary. (Aaaaand cue fear of rejection.)

Thirdly... I don't really know how to process this, but the reason that my friend is getting married so quickly is that she has, as she puts it, a little sea-monkey on board. She assured me that they would have married anyway, and that they really do love each other.

I am not as devastated as I thought I might be, but I am disappointed. I mean... she was a spiritual mentor to me in the past, and I guess I had her on a pedestal. I realized that as I was thinking about this situation. I still love her, and dearly, but now, she's off the pedestal. We're shoulder to shoulder now. And that's probably healthier. I just wish it could have come about some other way.

I told her I was glad they were being responsible about it (because my biological dad ran away and wouldn't take responsibility for his procreative capabilities).

I'm not quite sure how I feel. I had confidently proclaimed to H, "If they're getting married this quickly, then I'm sure it's because the Lord is leading. I trust her relationship with God." It's not that one mistake makes me distrust her relationship with God, I'm just frustrated, I guess. Like, why would you even do that? You know it's a mistake! You knew when you were doing it! So why?

Well... I've been in that same place, so I guess I can't talk. I knew it was wrong, even while I was doing it... but I just wanted that comfort and solace so badly, and that's where I'd always found it before (at least temporarily). I was addicted, what can I say? Definitely a mistake... a series of mistakes, rather. But I never walked away with a sea monkey.

I've thought about it, and I'm actually grateful that D and I have a long distance relationship. It protects us from the physical desires that might spring up otherwise. We can focus on getting to know each other without that distraction. (Then again, my severe apprehension about the whole sex thing might really help keep me in check, too! lol)

I go through alternating bouts of security and apprehension/insecurity about the relationship. I know I love God, and I know he does, too... but is our relationship spiritual enough? Should we be, like, praying together or something? I mean, we have, but should it be a consistent thing? Are we supposed to talk about God in every conversation? Well, we kinda do, but... I mean... is it spiritual enough? Are we doing it right? I wish I had a blueprint right about now... *sigh*

I think I can say right now that, if things continue on as they are for a good length of time... I could see myself marrying him.

Scary, eh? Yeah. Big time scary. But that's what dating is about, after all... to see if you're compatible for marriage. God brought us together, so I'm just praying and trusting Him to lead the way. He knows. I am trying to focus on enjoying what we have now, and learning the lessons that God brings up. So far, I'm still stuck on fear.

I can't help but giggle a little inwardly when I think of our conversation yesterday. Not the whole conversation, but towards the end, he said, "Oh, I found a rock for you." I was, of course, happy- I love rocks and stones and sticks and feathers and so on, so forth. He went on to describe it- it's small, but it's a perfect heart. "It's even grey!" (My favorite color- he remembered :)  ) He said it might even be small enough to send in an envelope, which means I'll get it sometime during summer camp.

So, yes. My boyfriend found a perfectly heart shaped rock on the beach in my favorite color and saved it to give to me. If that isn't cute, I don't know what is! (I doubt he knows that gifts are my love language... I should probably inform him so he can be careful not to tap into that too much.)

I asked my mom that question about love that I started this post with. I asked it in the context of D, more specifically. "Mom, how do I know when I love him? 'Cause we've been dating three weeks, and I know I really like him... but how do you know when you cross that line?"

She told me, "You already love him."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"You already love him. You have a loving heart of compassion for people. You love him like God asks us to love others." She wasn't really able to answer my question fully, though, 'cause she knew I was talking about the romantic, I-wanna-marry-you love. She said she was the wrong person to ask. Lol. Yeah, maybe just a little... hehe. But I know I can be totally honest with her without fear of judgment or condemnation. Why are you asking that?! Too soon! You're thinking about this too soon! Go read some SOP and calm yourself down.

Juuuuust kidding. That's never actually happened to me. But that's the lingering fear that prevents me from freely seeking advice from some godly people. I'm afraid I'll get a lecture instead of genuine, compassionate counsel. I'm already slightly confused as it is. (I don't know what I'm doing, remember?) I'd rather not throw a whole bunch of "do it this way" voices in there and mix things up any further. I need to focus on God, on hearing HIS voice.

Oh, yeah. I wrote a song today. About D. This whole thing with my friend shook me up a little bit, so I was thinking, How do I really feel about this guy? So I wrote a song. But I'm not sure if I should give it to him or not. I really, really don't want to rush into anything, or push our relationship faster than it needs to go. It's not a mushy, romantic song. It's rather platonic, actually (at least I think it is). Uh, not that I feel platonic about D... Oh, my. This is getting confusing. I'll just post the lyrics and that can satisfy me for now. I'll pray about whether or not I ought to share with him.

I think I'm going to eat something and take a nap before I pick H up at the airport... at midnight.

I need to apologize to D. I've been adamantly insisting that I'm a night owl. I have realized that I am not, in fact, a night owl any longer.

What a strange day.

Such a dichotomy of feelings and circumstances.

B admitted that he likes (liked?) me, in a sense... He started out by saying that he appreciated the card that I gave him, and that it touched his heart, and that what he wrote in his card to me, he meant. However, he had allowed himself to fantasize, but that recently he had to come to grips with reality. He realized that he is, as he put it, an old crow, and I am a kitten, and he realizes that it's never going to go past a friendship. (I readily affirmed that.)

On the plus side, I got a bag of Veggie Chips out of the conversation.

Well, it wasn't so much a conversation as a me listening to him explain himself.

I do know that our friendship is eternally, irrevocably altered.

I've been talking with J about this off an on all day, because it's just SO WEIRD!

So... I'm still in shock, a bit... and very, very tired. And sort of grieving the friendship that we did have.

Now's no time to try to process through things. But I did need to document the happenings of the day.

So, went to church, and that was good. The message was awesome-- it helped me re-focus on the hope of Jesus' second coming! I mean... it was just... yeah. I'll have to take a whole other post to talk about that one. But, suffice to say that it was awe-inspiring-- I can't wait to see God face to face! It's the ultimate kept promise, in my book. That'll be a special day for sure.

At church, the pastor and M and B got up front and affirmed me, and said how much they'd miss me, and they pulled me up front to give me a card and hugs. That was really nice. Then, they invited everyone to a church social that night in honor of my leaving! (I only found out about this yesterday, actually...) K and N were able to come, which was a treat for me. I had thought that K and I had already had our good-byes, so it was like bonus points to be able to hang out again. L gave me a present- a beautiful hand-made quilt! Talk about unreal... I've always wanted a handmade quilt, and this one is gorgeous. And when I think about the sheer volume of time that she had to have put into it... it is truly a labor of love. It means a great deal to me.

It's been surreal, this going away business... people keep thanking me for what I've done, telling me what  a blessing I've been, how much they'll miss me...

What? Don't you know who I am? I'm your failure of a Bible worker. You remember- the one that couldn't hack it and went back on her word and let the whole church down? The one who "hasn't been doing ministry" for the past 6 months? What do you mean, blessing? I've just been trying to survive! I've been trying to figure God out, and you say I impacted you positively?


Who is this girl you're talking about?!

Because, truly... I don't see myself as this wonderful, glowing person they're describing, so it's really a trip to hear others perception of me as such.

And on the same token... it does a few things.
1.) It puts me in awe of you, God. I mean, if you can do that with me, then what am I worried about for the future? If you can take such a profoundly broken person and use them to positively impact so many people-without the person in question even knowing or realizing!- then what can't you do in my life?

2.) It totally fills my love tank! I mean, I'm having a hard time absorbing all this affirmation and appreciation. I'll have to come back and do a post on the different memories that I want to cherish, so I'll have them for some future loneliness (which I suspect is not too many weeks or months away).

3.) It makes me want to do something awesome for these wonderful, loving people. I want to be a better person because of this.

So while the day was full of these extremes- awkward confusion to joyful gratitude- J and I managed to squeeze in some sister time for highlighting our hair with Sun-In and a photo shoot outside. It was great fun, and so... restful. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I think it was just what I needed. (Thank you, my dear!)

Oh, yeah... and that note to D is being delivered (discreetly) by capable hands. Funny... I never had any conflict about it. Just... second guessing myself.

Dear God,

I was raped in my dreams last night. It was awful.

I think it started with my visit to the chiropractor's. His secretary was gone visiting grand-kids, so it was only him in the office. I immediately had misgivings about being alone with a guy (not even this guy in particular, but ANY guy-- even working for B has been somewhat of a mental challenge at times), but I put them aside. Don't be stupid, nothing's gonna happen... what, you think you're that irresistible? He even asked, "Do you want to reschedule? I don't want you to be uncomfortable." I airily replied, "No, it's fine." (I immediately began mentally kicking myself, because I knew that if anything did happen, it would now be my fault.)

Well, it was fine, in the way of nothing happening. He's an upstanding guy. But he did a new stretch, which was to have me cross my arms, and then he leaned over and sort of did this twist/pull thing on my arms to pop my thoracic back. It wasn't anything, but I guess it must have been triggering in some way, because I left ASAP, and in a funk. And then... the dreams...

In my dream, I was playing guitar in some sort of vacation home, and the windows were open. It was a beautiful day, and I was enjoying myself. Then two guys walked up to the open window and started chatting with me. I tried to ignore them, because they had that "vibe", and they went away... but then one of them came back and attacked me. I put up a whale of a struggle- I even tried to hit him with my guitar! It didn't work, though. Fortunately, my mind fast-forwarded through the act itself, to the end, where he made some crude, derogatory remark and left. After that, it seemed that every creep in a five mile radius knew that I was defiled, and I had to deal with at least one other attack. I managed to fend that guy off, though, and run away and hide. When I came back out of hiding, I was accused of leading him on by a friend of mine, which really hurt.

All in all, my dreams sucked. I wish I could control my dreams like some people I know.

At least it was nobody I knew.

I'll see you later, God.
I'm glad I can tell you this stuff.

I just re-read my last post.

Am I a jerk, or what? "It's a good thing that Larry died..."

I think my point was made, but... sheesh.

I don't know. I mean, death is one the few things that I've been sheltered from. The last time somebody relatively close to me died was... 2006? And even then, I was away at academy, so I never really had to face it. They just weren't at church anymore when I went home on breaks. Before that was Aunt Vi, but we weren't very close, either. Before that was Great Gramma. I cried over that one. I did love her.

By far the most traumatic and memorable, however, was when I was 5. Great grampa. We were best friends, he and I (at least I thought so). He would sit sprawl-legged on the floor with me, and we would roll an orange back and forth between the two of us. Sometimes my aim was bad, and the orange would roll up his pants leg! He would jump around and say, "There's a bug in my pants! Somebody get that bug out of my pants!" What a kick I got out of that. :)

When he died of lung cancer, I crawled underneath his bed and wouldn't come out. The next thing I remember is sitting next to Mom and crying my heart out as they wheeled him past us and through the doors on a covered stretcher.

I grieve pretty deeply when animals die. Did I think that a human friend of mine would evoke any less of a reaction?

It just freaks me out to feel so much sorrow... so my mind is blocking it out... drugging myself with inadequate sleep and internet over-usage and country music.

I think it will really hit me come Friday night... when he's not at group. Boy. That's going to be hard.

How... how can he just be GONE?! Quite frankly, it ticks me off! It's like, nothing is safe. Nothing. Why even bother to get close to anyone? They might just keel over. Or get smashed. Or drown. Or any number of ways that one could cease to exist.

Why are my abusers still alive, yet my friend, a good man, is dead? If anyone is going to stop breathing, let it be the ones who inflict so much pain.

I don't understand all this. I don't get why this has to be. I was just getting used to the idea of pain as something that you don't necessarily need to run away from, or anesthetize yourself from, and... now this. What good does this pain do? I almost want to say, Let me be the one to sleep. Then I won't have to hurt for the one who is gone. However, my passing would leave just as much pain behind.

So, then... pain is the reality of life. I see.

I really, really need to sleep.

So this is my 100th post. I had kinda thought it would be more... upbeat... of an occasion. Guess not.

I still haven't come to the grips with the fact that Larry is gone. G-O-N-E. Gone.

Today was weird. It's funny, how when I'm distressed, there are certain patterns that I tend to follow... one of my comforts is window-shopping online. Another thing is that my appetite diminishes. (I'm now hovering between 130 and 135. I haven't been this light in a while. Too bad you can't see it.) And still another thing is that I somehow don't want to sleep. Either I'm not tired, or if I am, I don't want to.

Not much happening tomorrow anyway... Baker S is gonna come and teach us how to do baker's percentage. Basically, baking is a science. So, when you do it scientifically, you can ensure a perfect loaf of bread, every time. Awesome? Totally. I just hope this doesn't mean that baking bread will become an even longer process.

I'm gonna go hang out with H for a while, I think. We can comfort each other. And eat chicken. And maybe watch a movie.

*sigh*

Well, on the bright side, J really enjoyed his christmas present (one of our cd's).

And, on a different bright side, I was thinking about it earlier, and I guess it's a good thing Larry died. I mean, think about it. He doesn't have to fight anymore. He's at rest. How many times have I wished to be where he is now? Exactly. He's got a good thing going. I am going to miss him, though.