Solace; an adventure away from the world Part 1- the Doldrums.

The final map including locations and distances is shown above.

We packed for about 2 hours before we left.  We brought a tent, some camping supplies, some clothing, a few items of personal effect.  Both being technophiles, I wasn't sure how a whole week without our phones was going to go.  I knew I *could* do it, I had before, but Lucien I wasn't so sure about.  He said he was excited to see the adventures I had planned, but being an inexperienced camper, and having never been west of the Sault, I wasn't sure what to expect of him.  I had nothing to worry about.

We left the morning of July 9th and headed for the land above the bridge.  The weather was warm, and we wore soft smiles on our faces as our troubles faded further and further from our immediate thoughts.  Our talks were excited quips back and forth until about Bay City, where our cell service started to die, (we were using our phones for music.)
So, at Bay City, the ipod came out and we played music I had picked up, a random assortment from Janelle Monae to Coheed and Cambria, and of course, everything in between.

As we got ready to cross the bridge, I offered to drive, but Lucien said he was able.

I had our path memorized; our first destination was a place I had been many times before with Paul and the kids.  I had mixed feelings about going there.  I wanted to see it, to be there, to breathe the air of the place, but I didn't want the old feelings to come back, and the sadness of missing my children.  I breathed deep of the cigarette I had lit and guided Lucien on; M-123, to Paradise Michigan.

We hit the lower falls of Taquaminon first, a small gentle rapids.  Luci's breath was taken away, I kept hearing the giggles of my brood, who were several hundred miles away.  I caught onto Luci's enthusiasm though, and soon we were both giggling like children, running from view to view.  I even took him about a half a mile onto the North Country Trail.  We bounded back up the trail and decided to head to the campground to make camp.

Lucien on the North Country Trail near Lower Taquaminon Falls.

We had a small amount of trouble finding the campground I had reserved, but we had camp set up within an hour of arriving.  We decided to pick up a few things at the grocery store, then headed to Whitefish Point.  We got there just before sunset.
I thought of the previous times I had been there, how it was always cloudy and grey, and how my companions would all disappear to do their own thing, there I was, hand in hand with Lucien, who was becoming a bit grumpy due to the blackflies and the lack of rest and food.  He took some absolutely amazing photos however, and we headed back to camp to make a fire and cook hot dogs.

Sunset at Whitefish Point

We met up with a couple, their kids and their brother in law from Grand Rapids, whom we shouted jokes back and forth with all evening regarding the size of our campfire compared with theirs.  We retired about 11pm, but their talks and drunken laughter lasted until wee into the morning.

The first night was cold and our mattress was not inflated all of the way, I slept well, but poor Lucien slept terribly.


We woke up the next morning, he sleep deprived and unhappy, I had a craving for coffee and didn't want to make a fire, so I headed to town to pick up breakfast for us.
I arrived to find camp completely taken down and Luci asleep on the picnic table.
I left him his breakfast and wandered off into the woods.  I got about a forth of a mile up the trail before I decided to turn back and check on him.
He was ready to go this time.  We decided to head to the upper falls hand in hand.

Upper Taquaminion Falls

I felt the presence of my sons and my ex there, from happier times from before he went mad, I felt myself too, laughing while running away from my parents, a full canteen when I was 16.
We decided to hit Marquette, in particular a park I went to as a young child, and was taken to once in my early teens.  We went by way of Munising.

Iron out the wrinkles: Autism Speaks and it's "advocacy"

Don't get me wrong.  I'm all for support of autistic people.  We should be supporting them, though... Not trying to fix them.

Read this.  Have a look, let it sink in.

http://autisticadvocacy.org/2014/01/2013-joint-letter-to-the-sponsors-of-autism-speaks/

I'm on the spectrum.  I have a form of autism called "dyspraxia".  Back when I was diagnosed at the age of 6, it was called a "learning disability", because the major way that it operated affected my learning.

See, I couldn't write a legible thing.  No one could read my handwriting.  It was widely known I had a much larger than average vocabulary, but I just couldn't EXPRESS myself.  The school actually bought my family a computer, an Apple IIe, so that I could write.  I hated writing as a child, now it is something I love.

But adding to the other difficulties, there are some social aspects of the disorder which caused me a lot of trouble in school.
I took things literally.

One kid, his name was Ricky, called me a fox in Kindergarten.  I was offended and really upset.  I ran home crying to my mother saying that someone had called me a fox, and I certainly was not that furry!  Or had 4 paws, or a tail, or anything that resembled a fox what so ever.  My mother was confused, but then when she realized what I was thinking, she chuckled and said "he thinks you're pretty, honey."

In all of my medical documentation of that era, there is a running theme of "above average intelligence" but there is also a running them of "beautiful little girl".  "This beautiful six year old girl...[medical jargon]"

Up until a few months ago, I had never seen the paperwork, my parents never told me what I should and should not be able to do.  They always just told me to try my best, to work my hardest, and that things may take me a bit longer, but that's ok.  "Just take your time and you'll do just fine honey."  They taught me perseverance.

Another part of my Autism is the fact I am hypersensitive, but with that hypersensitivity comes the ability to be very in touch with my emotions, something that has served me well in this past year especially, but also in my life.

I'm not saying I'm a more "evolved" human being, or something like that.  I'm just different.  I think of things differently, I process things differently, and you know what?  As long as I am not hurting anyone, my differences are perfectly ok, and in fact, are part of what makes me who I am.

In the anime "FLCL", there is a running theme of a huge iron that serves as a factory on a river.
They refer to "Ironing out the wrinkles."  Taking all of the individuality out of a person, making them "ordinary."  That thought is dreadful.  Mr. Rogers wouldn't be impressed folks.  He told all of us he loved us just the way we are.  And yes, he meant it.  If you flatten the image, how dull it becomes!

So, organizations that wish to "eradicate autism", a disorder that is pretty much a different way of thinking and feeling, makes me angry.  Those who are affected who can't speak?  They still have feelings, they still find ways to express how they feel about things, they are still HUMAN, and most of them are pretty darn happy with who they are.  They know they think differently, and in most cases, don't care to think like you at all.  They are happy with their mind and where it wanders to.

If you are a parent to one of these wonderful non-neurotypical individuals, cherish them, love them, listen to them, and if they can't express what they are feeling to you, try another way.  Try handing them a notepad and colored pencils and tell them just to draw whatever they feel like drawing, show them music, show them art, read to them, interact with them, and if they are giving you signals they need to be left alone, leave them alone, but check in every now and again.  When they are done in their own little world, they don't always know how to tell you that.  And you don't have to say anything to them, just stoop quietly somewhere in the room.  This says "I'm listening and I'm waiting for you to come out."  And they will.

My oldest son is autistic and falls on the spectrum at what would have been called "Asperger's disorder".  He is a loveable kid with a lot of energy, who just likes to talk about the same 5 things over and over again, BUT, he's brilliant.  There isn't a subject in school that I think could get the better of him.  Emotional intelligence though?  Yeah, that's sorely lacking.  He can't accurately express his disappointment, and it comes out as rage and temper tantrums, screaming again and again "it's not fair!"
Yeah kiddo, hate to say it, life isn't fair.

I tried to protect you guys, but because my social queues weren't what they should have been, I missed obvious signs of pedophilia in someone we lived with, and the state took you away.  What's fair about that?
Nothing, because life isn't fair.

Yes, the state can take your kids away because you are autistic.  And THAT, is something to scream about, and THAT, is the fault of these misguided advocacy organizations telling the government that having your brain work differently is a PROBLEM and should be eradicated.  If you are harming no one, it should not matter how your brain works.  If you are causing harm to someone, then we should start talking about law and how that comes into play.  But shit, I can barely tell if someone wants to be my friend or murder me, how am I supposed to know how to spot someone with an intangible disease that half of the time psychologists, who by the way are trained to spot these things, cannot even determine reliably?

People fear and attack what they don't understand, like the witch hunts in Salem in the 1700's.  Or an earlier example, the dark.

Now, I know that much of what I am saying will likely get misinterpreted.  I'm ok with that.  These are my opinions, and I am sharing them knowing that not everyone will agree... Let's just not be dicks about it, ok?

Adventures in turning off the big fan

"Turn off the big fan outside, would you?"
He asked.  He was my colleague and mentor at work, and I had gotten into the habit of writing him when I got home because at least  someone cared that I had arrived safely.  My husband seldom noticed.
I didn't decide to take the adventure, so much as the adventure chose me.

Adventure is a kind way to put it.

A few days later, inklings came, which made me suspect that everything I knew and came to accept as true weren't, and that my greatest nightmare had come real.
And I decided to go and turn off the fan.

My solid backing, family who helped me erect my building of brick and stone, I stepped out of the safe confines of my house and jumped.  

The wind was intense, I watched my husband blow away, my adopted sister and nephews next, her boyfriend, an old friend of mine, blowing past, beyond where I could reach them.

I was in a wind tunnel.  I started grabbing wildly for familiarity, my sons next, I got a hold of them, but could not hang on, my heart broke, and I stumbled.

Cat saw me and threw a rope, I grabbed on, still trying to grab my boys, my mom, still trying to stand against the wind, mentor with cleats dug in, standing behind me, trying to hold me up, he blew away.

My eyes hurt from the dirt in the wind, tears fell.

In the swirling noise of the void, days faded into one another, more crazy random things blew my way.  I grew tired.

George came up behind me and showed me how to cinch the rope around my waist.  He showed me how to brace for the gusts and how to breathe in the madness without allowing it to consume me.  I tried to lean heavily on him, and he allowed himself to be blown away, "That's not the point of the exercise, Dee.  You can't change it, so embrace it."

I sat clinging to the rope for dear life.

But then, the fatigue set it, the horrible, horrible fatigue that sets in after holding a rope for 6 months.  And free time, and the want to write.

I simply let go of the rope, I could not hold on anymore.

I landed on my feet, "thunk, thunk" the pain in my knees astounding.  I sat on the cool earth, opened my eyes and found myself in the hookah lounge, computer in front of me, novel nearly written.

A chat open with a man named Steven, and the wind had all but stopped.

Just when I thought the whole thing was a dream, George came up to check on me with a smile on his face while rolling a cigarette.

Cat came after that, and John (her then boyfriend), and the other hookah bar staff, I had made friends somehow... and a few days later Steven and I went on our first date.

These days, the wind gusts, but doesn't carry me away.  I hold Steven's hand, we shoulder each others burdens.  My friends are in a v shape behind me, always ready to catch me.  They were at the bottom of the ravine the whole time, waiting.  Family, waiting.  

And to the wind, I say thank you for your gifts.

To the abyss, I say thank you for catching my family and friends.

And to the beyond, I thank you for your bliss.

Braided blue ribbons: Child Abuse Prevention Month

If you've stumbled upon this, you are most likely a friend.  I'm asking for specific help for a specific cause.
Namely, my daughter.

It came out in late July last year that my ex husband had been sexually abusing my daughter from the time she was 4 years old onward, under my nose, whilst I was asleep at night.

She is now 14.  This brave young lady deserves our praise, and needs our support.

Last month, she (I am specifically not using her name until she gives me the ok to do so,) was asked to discuss the details of the abuse in class.  She prepared a presentation and presented it to the class.
She talked about the abuse, what happened, the legal proceedings regarding it, and how I lost my children due to my ignorance in the issue.

What happened afterward surprised even me.

The children in the class started calling her names.

She wrote the names on her arm.  

She also wrote some inspirational quotes to keep herself going.

Her instructor was busy and unaware of the bullying.

Her Father pulled her out of the school almost immediately afterward, and sent her to a new school district.  (This was the last straw, she was not happy in the district due to the heavy scrutiny she received from classmates on other issues.) 

I want her to know she is supported by a lot of people, and that her story is not one of defeat, but one of success and overcoming the odds.  I want her to feel empowered, surrounded and protected by the community at large.
It is important in the case of child sexual abuse that the victim be encouraged to tell his or her story, so that they can move beyond it and become the people they need to be.

This is a braided blue ribbon, it is the ribbon associated with child sexual abuse to honor and remember the victims.  I think it should be more than this.  I think, if you wear this ribbon and it's braided in such a fashion, children should know they can come to you with their problems.  They should know that you are a safe adult who is familiar with the issues and moreover will protect them if they come to talk to you about it.

In the case of my daughter's ribbon, it is bound together with safety pins, as she professes to be a bit of a "goth/punk" gal.

Here's the thing.  My daughter's abuser is attempting an appeal.  I do not have exact dates and times yet, but, I was wondering, could we all agree to wear braided blue ribbons that day?  Her attacker needs to remain behind bars; in just the few months he's been gone, she's made tremendous strides in therapy and as a person.  She finally feels safe.  I need her to know she's going to be safe as long as we have something to say about it.

The past month, and a call for help.

If you've come to this blog, and do not know me from a hole in the ground, I understand.  I'm not looking to cause trouble.  I'm not looking to become the bane of the inter-tubes.  I'm asking for financial and emotional aid for a problem that has come up in my life.  I'm a fairly private person.  I don't want to hang those around me who have helped me.  All I am asking is, if you don't have anything nice to say, please keep your opinions to yourself.  

Truth be told, you don't know me or what I've been facing.  I know not everyone is going to be on my side.  I did the right thing.  I could have said nothing to the state, not encouraged my husband to turn himself in, and right now, I'd be sitting comfortably with my children, but that wouldn't have been the right thing to do.  I appreciate all those who are with me.

For those of you who don't know...  Below is the newspaper article referring to the situation, I'm being somewhat vague because this involves my children.

My life on the evening news

Child Protective Services did investigate a few times, but found, just as I did, that there didn't seem to be a problem...  When the accused came to me on July 31st and told me everything he did, I understood what had to be done, and did my best.  I encouraged the accused to turn himself in, after a few crazy moments, he did the right thing.  I have not seen him since Aug 1st, when he was locked up for his crimes.

Today, I was told by CPS that they were moving to terminate my parental rights for a "Failure to protect"  What this means is, I knew something was wrong and allowed the abuse to occur anyway.  Well, as I said, when CPS came out to the house a few times and found nothing out of order... So I believed everything was ok.  It wasn't until the accused told me that abuse HAD occurred that I believed otherwise.  My agent even said he felt this was completely wrong, but he had to do his job, and according to the computer, this is what he had to do. NO HUMAN DECISION MADE.  Let that sink in for a minute.  He left it up to a bloody computer whether or not my kids would be taken from me, he left it up to a computer as to whether or not my life would be forever impacted by being added to the Central Registry for Child Abuse in Michigan. If I lose the job I have now, I will be unable to get employment, because, in spite of what the CPS worker believes, every possible employer looks at that registry before hiring.  My career is over if I lose my job right now, and I am close to losing my job.  I will be able to get my name removed from the registry, provided I can jump through hoops the way CPS feels I should.

I have already retained a reasonable lawyer who has been doing work for my family for years, but I need help affording the costs of it. 

I need to know I have support out there.  I need to know that I did the right thing to throw my husband in jail, I need to know that I am not a bad Mom in spite of what the state's fancy computer thinks.  If you stand with me, please let me know it, drop me a letter, a comment, if you can afford to help me financially, please help me Here on Fundrazr.

I need my family, my friends and my community right now.  Please help me?

Tommy, my big brother.

Every day, when my older brother came home from school, I would greet him at our door.  He is 12 years my senior, and was in high school in my first memories.

I had a traditional way of greeting him when he came home from school.  I'd say, "HI TOMMY!" then I'd punch him.  Well, as a 4 year old I was about the exact height that a 16 year old boy does NOT want to be punched at.  I always ended up punching him in the crotch, and he'd always end up flying a few feet back, and he'd be hurt, but I'd laugh.

And this was the way of things.  

Later, when I was four, my brother was watching me while my parents were out doing some random thing, he made me grilled cheese and soup, and while he was pouring soup, some ended up on my shoulder and burning me.  I had a pretty bad burn for a few weeks, and he felt totally awful about it.  He tried not to let me know how much it bothered him, but that night, after I was supposed to be sleeping, I could hear him talking to Mom about it.

As my sister, my brother and I got older, we got a sick and twisted delight out of irritating the living hell out of one another.  Tommy would bring a girl over, and Nikki, (my older sister) and I would sit between them and start "boys vs. girls" comments.  This inevitably lead to my brother's girlfriend at the time teaming up with my sister and I, and her telling him "stop picking on your poor, defenseless baby sisters!"  And we'd giggle, a LOT.  Cackle, in fact.  In those days, there was a lot of cackling.

On Christmas mornings, we had this Moose that played Christmas Carols.  Anyone who knows my brother knows he doesn't always wake up in the most pleasant way.  My parents had a rule: No opening presents until Tommy is awake.  My sister and I knew this rule well, and also knew that Tommy woke similarly to a rabid bear and so, we would take the Moose, (its name was "Chris-Moose") and we'd come down the stairs...
So Tommy would here the "Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump" of our feet
Then he'd hear the Moose, which got more and more out of tune each year...
We'd start it, and throw it like a hand grenade and run like gazelles.
And the out of tune Moose would fly through the air, and would always manage to hit my brother straight in the face.
Good thing that always made him laugh!

Or then, there were the summer nights when Tommy would have a bunch of friends over, and we would play Risk in our basement for hours and hours on end, and usually Tommy's friend would win, but not always.  

And as Tom got older and didn't always have a date to bring with him to sledding, bonfires, concerts and movies, he'd bring me along instead.  I was his nearly constant companion, I always looked forward to spending time with him.  I always felt special when I was with him, like I was the coolest little kid around, because I had all of these adult friends and they all thought I was cool, too.

The year I turned 18 and graduated high school, my parents went through a pretty ugly divorce.  At the head of it, when my parents started divvying up their things, Tom was instrumental at convincing my parents to allow me to take a 12 hour greyhound bus trip by myself to go see my best friend in Minneapolis.  The day before I went, my parents were having a really awful day and Tom took me out of the house.  First, he brought me to the Detroit Yacht Club to visit an old friend of his, then he took me to a bonfire.  There was lots of swimming and fun, and a minor amount of drinking.  He did all of this to GET ME AWAY from things that would undoubtedly cause me psychological damage.

He was there for the birth of all four of my kids, (well, soon afterward anyway.)
My big brother has always, ALWAYS taken care of me.

Now, he's in the hospital, has no insurance, and is missing gigs because of his illness.  This was the weekend he was finally going to be in the "Black" again as far as money, and he can't do his gigs, plus he's got all these medical bills piling up.  

What ELSE could I do?  I had to help him!  So, I started trying to come up with creative ways to get him money, and therefore all of this activity that people have been seeing around facebook.

So, with the help of my brother's wonderful community of friends, we've created a Bake Sale, Craft night, and silent auction to help raise money for my wonderful brother.  If you are on facebook and you are interested in going to help, the event can be found Here!

Otherwise, if you want to help out but aren't into that whole "social interaction" thing, here are a few links to directly donate to the cause. 

Go fund me: Help Dr. Toon!Paypal

Thank you very much for reading my sappy little story!

Love is in the air, no seriously!

So, I read this dandy little article today, take a look:

http://edition.cnn.com/2013/01/24/health/love-psychology-book/index.html

It's a very interesting take on love.  It asserts that love is a micro-movement in the body and brain. Which makes sense as love is, at it's very core a chemical reaction.

So, what's the best way to see this?

The article talks about the importance of eye contact.  Yeah, it's uncomfortable for some and kind of annoying, but...  If eye contact makes life that much easier for other folks around you...  It's worth it, no?

Think about your family for example.  Your kids.  What do you tell them when you want them to pay attention?

"Look at me young lady/man when I am speaking to you!"  What about, if in that moment, you take a deep breath and look your kiddo in the eyes.  You can't stay mad, even if there are poop stains in their bedroom everywhere and your whole house smells like crap.

It's so important for us to make a deep connection with our children, to let them know they are cared for, that you have their back no matter what happens.  It's so important for us, later in our lives, have that kind of feeling to fall back on when we feel insecure.

But, back to this...  it says also in this article that to close yourself off from people outside of your social and family circle is severely constraining your opportunities to feel love.  Love is not exclusive, it says.

It also says that people who feel loved on a regular basis are generally healthier.

Some people feel they must close themselves off, that they shouldn't be social, that they shouldn't look people in the eye... Well... All I'm saying is, that's not always the best way to deal with life.

SMILE, make eye contact, allow yourself to give a little to other people, ALL other people, friends, lovers, children, children's teachers, co-workers, and neighbors...

The world needs love, and it's everywhere, so go out and take it.

a brilliant ruse

You've bested me.

Ok, you caught me being awesome.  

So first, I love my anxiety. I also love that it gives me insight into things when they aren't quite right.

Second, I love it when rumors are spread about me and friends of mine.  It makes me glad to know that I'm that important in someone's popularity contest to be considered for a rumor.  Thank you, I am to Princess Kate as you are to The Star.  I've always wanted to be a princess!  Really!  Now I get to be pretty and have all kinds of adventures!  Maybe even a knight in shining armor to rescue me!  Wouldn't that be lovely?

Third, I've had several years of training in theater and vocal music.  I'll let you decide what I mean by that.  Let me just say, the title of this entry should tell you everything you need to know about your current rumor.

Now you rumor loving folks... GO!  Make something fantastic up about me!  I want it to sparkle.

I really want to see the best you can do.  I want some sex, some violence, some scandal, and if you can somehow weave the President in there, that'd be rad.  Bonus points for gay lovers and saucy texts.

As a writer...  Your plot lacked depth and was too hyper realistic.  We don't write stories about the planes that land, people!  Did you not learn anything in journalism class?  When you read a good novel, it doesn't involve the mundane, like making coffee or going to the bathroom.  I hate to say it, but... I'm dull.  I really don't have anything to write a proper rumor about... so you should try harder to invent something.  See if you can make me brilliant and beautiful, too...  Oh, and I want a white horse and a fucking Ferrari!  

But really... seriously?  Lame attempt people... Lame.  Oh eme Gee!  Dani has a FRIEND!  WOW!

*shakes head*

Ok you guys, I'm going to go to bed now, I expect pictures of my head photoshopped onto Marilyn Monroe's body by tomorrow.  Do not disappoint me, rumor mill!  You are the last chance I have at living an interesting life, or getting back down to a size 12!

Auto pilot

And like a homing device hellbent on its own destruction, here I am severely depressed.
There are a lot of things going on around me, which I'll detail without getting too involved, but, need to be addressed and handled with the kind of  care I can offer.

First, there's my tendency to get weirdly obsessed with some friends.  I've always wanted to have close friends, I know what it's like, but then they move away from me, it's like, you get the inside joke for about a year or so, the move on...

I really taxed a friend of mine, I was feeling suicidal and I told them as much.  For those who aren't used to that... It's a really horrible experience to know your friend feels that way and there's pretty much nothing you can do about it, except ride the wave out.  But that is the end result of a conglomeration of things.  The following are the things that caused these thoughts.  I'm not feeling suicidal anymore, but I'm still not feeling good.  It's still a process I have to work through.

My daughter is in 8th grade this year, and at her school they have something called the 8th grade banquet, which is something like a mini prom for these kids.  Now, I promised my daughter I would try to get involved somehow, but that's before I realized that it was on a Friday.  At work, we are a shift of 3, and as a result if one wants to take time off, it means the other two have to come in.  I have discovered that I'm unwilling to ask my co-workers to take my time for me.  It's not that it's a problem, it's just they have their own patterns, and I don't feel that it's fair for me to ask them to take my time.  Besides, there's something in me that doesn't want to go...  It's not that I don't love my daughter or something, it's more that, if I go, I'll realize everything I left behind, all the memories I've missed over time by not being there.  And asking my dear friends from work to cover for me, so that I can potentially wig out and not go anyway... just doesn't seem fair.

Tonight I was supposed to go to a benefit for a young lady to help fund raise for the scholarship in her honor.
I never bought tickets because I wasn't sure I would be able to get the time off of work, or babysitting, so I am again staying home.  I'll probably go to the bar with friends this evening.  It was a wonderful event last year, it opened my eyes and helped me see I was so much more than I was giving myself credit for.
I hope the same happens this year.

To those I have lost

I was reminded today of those who I have lost.  Those friends I once had that are no longer with me.  I have made it a policy throughout my life to never burn bridges or sever ties unless I have to, and sometimes, I just lose touch.  Sometimes in losing touch, I try to regain it, and things have changed.  Sometimes I symbolize a time in someone's life that they were unhappy, or going through a transition.  Sometimes I have actually done something wrong.  If I have wronged you, I hope you'll find some way to forgive that wrong.  I'm not perfect, in fact I am about as far from perfect as people get, but I hope I provided you some peace in the time I knew you.
In the case where I symbolize a bad time in your life, I'm sorry that you can't separate me from that time.  Know that I cherished any interaction we had, both positive and negative, and know that I learned as much from you, if not more, as you learned from me.  I'll miss you and whatever times we shared.  I'll still think of you, look and pictures and laugh, but I'll feel incomplete.  As though the door was never closed, because in my mind, the door never closes.

I'm sad for the loss.  Today it hit me, and I'm sad for it.  I don't know if it's my bruised ego, or the fact I don't know what I said or did, or the fact that I won't have a chance to make whatever wrong I did, right.
I let people down.  I let myself down.

I listen to the sadness in the world, and the worries, and the fears.  I listen to everyone I know suffering in one way or another.  I just want to hold them all and tell them it's ok.  Even the people who now view me as the enemy.  Even those I do not agree with.  It doesn't matter if we all agree, we are human.  We are made of the same things.  If I find something about you that I don't like, the reason that I don't like it is that I see it in myself, and cannot accept that about myself.  Those who are fearful about the future, but choose to manifest that fear into hate, I see your fear.  I know your fear.  I do not agree with what you do with your fear, but I know that it's just that you are afraid and unable to express that in a constructive way.
Everything will be right in the world soon, this I know.  Just hang in there for a little longer.  Be fiercely loving and strong.  John Lennon was right, ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.

And so, love each other, love your enemies, love your friends

Lifting the heavy things

Tonight at work was difficult.
and I felt overwhelmed, but then I realized things were't so bad.

Tonight is an anniversary of sorts, a bad one.  When my friend started to drive to somewhere... she was hit by an oncoming car, a drunk at the wheel.

Tonight, I'm lifting the heavy things off my chest.

Anna Bonde has a scholarship in her name, and a whole event at my old High School.  And although the event is fun, I would give it up just to see her smile again.  We all would.  All these years, I ask myself, "why her?"  She was... an amazing human being.  More here.

Everything's different here since I last wrote.  I left my awful job at the cable company to pursue something not so grim, and now I find that I miss my friends.  My best friend is even different.

Life moves in a cycle though, and I'm finding this cycle a hard one to crack.  I'm just glad that I've been given the opportunity to try again.

Now I'm going to go with my relative alone-ness, I may cry, I may not.  
I'm just thankful for the life I am living now, for those I have known in my past both living and deceased.

Please, everyone be careful and come home safely this weekend, a little green beer is not worth giving up everything for.

A collection of my failures.

I'm thinking, a morbid scrapbook of sorts.  Containing emails, pictures, speeding tickets, letters of condemnation, failed art projects... things of the sort.

A notebook that I can keep these things in, to look on them and realize how far I've come, and that in life, no mistakes are made, not really.  Just happy accidents.

In the next few weeks, I anticipate a bit of quiet reflection, as an era is ending for me.  On to better things I keep telling myself, but, will they really be better?  I mean, I've made some pretty good friends in my time here, and I'm sure they'll stay around because they aren't the sort to desert you, but...  It's just change, hot and heavy, coming down your neck at break-neck speeds.

So I toast my failures, they have made me who I am today, and sometimes I'm pretty fucking kickass.  I have four super intelligent, beautiful children... an apartment, a car, I can do basically what I want to much of the time.

I no longer live in a trailer with holes in the floor.
I am no longer working at a grocery store, ringing groceries because that's all I think I'm capable of.
I am no longer taking daily abuse from customers who know less than I do about technology.
I am being yelled at on weekdays by a tyrannical boss who likes to point his fingers and call mistakes out to everyone, but that's not necessarily undeserved.  There are still many things that leave much to be desired.  And someday maybe I'll get what I desire, someday I may even figure it out.

I'm on track to begin schooling for my Bachelors Degree in the fall.  I compare myself to friends who have their Masters or Ph.D's, but I realize I am being unreasonable; none of those people have kids, or have been married twice.
I did the stupid thing, I followed my heart, not my head.  That's not to say it wasn't rewarding, it just, wasn't that smart of me; convention states there is an order to things, and there are reasons that they order isn't typically fucked with.

But how motivating to know what had to be overcome to reach the summit; or at least where I am so far.

Sometimes though, the lack of achievement feels a bit like your skull melting.  The world is moving so quickly around, and just keeping up sometimes is a pain.

This pathway has now been explored and exploited.  Onward.

APB: Taurus Burns

UPDATE: Bethany just informed her friends that Taurus has been found safe and sound.  Thank you for the support!

UPDATE: FERNDALE 115 has reported on this story:
http://ferndale115.com/nuevo/2013/02/25/local-artist-missing-wife-asks-public-for-information/
If you have seen this man, please contact The Ferndale Police Department at 248-541-3650.

Today I want to tell you the story of Taurus Burns and Bethany Young-Burns.

I've known Bethany the better part of 15 years now, although we lost touch after high school...  Bethany is a fantastic lady and has been a pillar in the Ferndale, Michigan community.  She started a small bakeshop called "Little Dove Bakeshop" and has been receiving much acclaim since then for her good works in the community.  For every pastry she sells, she donates money to a cause.

Here's an article about Little Dove Bakeshop, and more about Beth's amazing story:

Little Dove Bakeshop Takes Flight in Ferndale

Taurus is a local artist, and formerly worked at the Detroit Institute of Arts.  His work can be found  at: http://www.paintdetroit.com/

Bethany and Taurus were married in October.  Here's a picture of the two of them together Taurus and Beth.  

Taurus went missing Sunday Morning at about 3 am.  He'd gone out for a walk, but neglected to bring his keys or phone.  Beth is a wreck, she has been calling the police, hotels, motels, hospitals and any other place she can in an attempt to locate her husband.  She, as of this writing, has had no luck in locating Taurus.  Their blended family includes 2 children, and his daughter has been asking for him.

My plea to you all is simple: Share this story.  Things have been rough for Beth in the past year, and I can easily say that Taurus' love of her is one of the best things that ever happened to her.  It'd be great if she could get some local news coverage.  We must find this man.

Thank you for your time.

Sometimes sadness is a gift

I feel completely overwhelmed right now.  The amount of things that are ready to come hit me is enormous.  From one moment to the next not knowing where or what my job will be, to unexpected car repairs, mounting bills, uncertainty about our taxes and whether or not we are getting a return, the dishes, the laundry, the kids and Paul's health; I didn't sleep well last night.

I spent the night writing.  And not just "oh gee, let me kick out a poem or two.", not muck raking of the traditional sort, but a deep thorough "this is what's wrong with me, here it is in black and white, take it or leave it."

I went to bed fine, until I realized the kids were here.  (I had come home from work and had been told previously in the day that my kids would not be home.)  So there I was at 4:30 in the morning realizing that I was going to have to be up in 3 hours to mind children...

I didn't meet that mark.  Paul did, luckily.  I am grateful for that.  I was afforded sleep... I feel sickly right now, just minor head congestion and I've been cold all day no matter what I do.  I don't have a fever, but just the constant chills and my throat is a little sore.  I'm still really tired, and I'm cranky.

My friends at work are all going through their own unique struggles right now, we've got one out with a back injury, one was fired for being arrested, another in the hospital, another who's Father in Law just passed away, 3 (including myself) who suffer from mild to severe depression, and a boss who is fighting off some sort of lung infection.  Our Manager's boss called our manager and asked him what little black storm cloud was attacking us.  In the same breath asking when we would be ready to offshore our jobs...  We aren't going to be given much notice as it turns out.  Our boss is asking until June, corporate wants it done sooner.  We aren't going to know until maybe a week ahead of time.

My house is an utter disaster, and I just don't feel up to cleaning it.  I also don't feel up to doing my taxes even though they need to be done.  I just... Don't feel like much of anything.

I snapped at my Mother in Law upon leaving her house today, something about Dan's diet over there, and I felt badly but I couldn't even avoid it.  I broke down crying and said I would let the dog out.  I did let the dog out, and now I'm sitting and writing again in the hopes that I'll feel better.  Meanwhile, my Brother in Law was making small, passive aggressive comments about Paul and I not being very good parents.

You know what?  We aren't.  I know that.  Goddamnit I'm trying!  But, the fact is he's not dealing with the bills for maintaining this house, working 40+ hour work weeks in an environment outside of home, being female, (because our emotions go haywire at inappropriate times) and the other 57 things on my list.  And I can't just leave him my bills and crap and ask him to make the whole thing work.  I can't do that with Paul either.  We have medical bills streaming in from everywhere which is something we haven't had in 5 years.  Our insurance doesn't suck, but they certainly don't give the right prices up front, so we are being nickeled and dimed because we pay the 15 dollars, but apparently owe 25... all that adds up after a while.  So now our names are in with a bunch of collections agencies over 10 and 20 dollars.

Then there's Dan, who still won't eat much of anything.  My brother in law is convinced without a shadow of a doubt that he has some sort of gluten intolerance... The little boy will only eat BREAD and cheese.  I am not going to change the diets of all my kids over the suspicion of one of my relatives.  Especially after talking to the doctor who told us he was almost certain that Dan didn't have this problem, so much so that he didn't even want to put Dan through the testing for it.
I've been saying ALL ALONG this isn't the case, but no one wants to listen to me apparently.  I was just like him as a kid.  He WILL GROW OUT OF IT.

My student loans were moved to another company, and apparently they have been attempting to send mail to me.  My loans are supposed to be in deferment, but I haven't yet done the paperwork to insure that they stay there... Haven't felt up to it, no time... It's a continuing theme.  When I get home on Wednesday and Thursday I just want to sleep.  I don't want to fuck around with all this other bullshit.  But, I have to do it because no one else will.  I'm running and ruining 5-6 people's lives at any given time and I just can't handle the strain of it.  Overwhelmed.

My former best friend hasn't been around in 2 months.  Her boyfriend, who was my friend before all of this, won't speak to me either.  Her stuff is ALL OVER MY HOUSE.  I keep gathering it to one area or another and it keeps getting moved.  It's like walking on pins constantly.  She has things that Paul wants back, (I really don't care about it much, but you know it'd be nice...)  Then Day Zero is coming in 2 days, and I just... I want to see her.  I'm so sad sometimes it feels like I've been slugged in the gut repeatedly by a freight train.

I desperately just need to get away from here for a few days so that I can refresh and renew my outlook on life.  I want to just spend some time alone.  I cannot handle the litany of opinions that come from hither and thither.  I know everyone is trying to help in their own way, but just SHHHH... I can't hear myself think!

I'm just tired.  I know it will pass.  But Gods I'm afraid that it won't.

Empty chairs, missing pieces

It's hard to give up a friendship.

It's even harder when that friend has become a member of your household.

Harder still when that friend's kids have also become a huge part of your household.

Over the summer, I had 5-6 kids in my house at any given time.  The noise was insane, the dichotomy of that many wee feet wandering about... creating their own games, showing each other how to imagine and play their way...  Dizzying to see them grow together, to create teams, to problem solve...

I have their crafts on my walls.  Evan, Dan, Tom, K and A, show a snapshot of what my life was like then.  It was still hard; even with three people to run interference.  Reminders of these kids, and of my friend are everywhere still.  She hasn't come to get her things, her boyfriend has never gotten back to me.  We always assumed we'd just see each other again and make everything work out.

Reality tells another story though, as it is wont to do.

This time of year is hard for me anyway, one of my best friends birthdays comes in a week, I never can manage to afford to go see her let alone to send her anything.

Then a week after that is day zero again... I don't know how I'm going to handle that this year.  I may send the missing piece flowers, if I can manage to afford it.

My marriage is still failing, we are going on year five of failure.  I can't fix it.  There have to be 2 willing and active partners in a marriage.  There's not even one anymore, it's just a half a person.  Half of me cares.  But then I think of the loss I've felt the past few months with the loss of the Missing... I understand that absence liberates pain from you; it forces you to cry, forces you to deal with things you wouldn't otherwise deal with. The relationship between the Missing and I was... flawed at best.  We both had our issues dealing with one another... we made things work because I needed her, and she needed me.

I still think the world of her, truth be told.  She's dealt with a lot of bullshit and still manages to come off with a positive slant most of the time.  I can do that, now.  I learned it from her.
My kids keep asking when she'll return.  I told them I'm not sure.  That's the hardest part.  It's like having Mary Poppins living in your home, then her suddenly having to alight to gods knows where, and not being able to tell your children when their beloved Nanny will return.  Only add to that, because K was their best friend, and A was Tom's best friend.

Tom will forget over time, but Evan and Dan won't.  There's no one to blame but time and impatience.

Adventures in Autism!

So, I'm gonna dial back for a moment from my melodramatic self ramblings about love found and love lost for a little while.  Don't worry, more of the fun and funny stuff will be on it's way shortly, but this is kind of important.

No seriously, stop laughing!  I can be serious, darnit!  Honest.

Ok.  Now that we've all got our serious faces on, let's talk.  Or rather, you read and keep reading, and I'll tell you what I'm thinking about.

Autism.  It's the latest buzz word in the world of child academia.  The experts say for every 88 normal (neurotypical) children, there is 1 autistic child.  There are varying degrees of autism, from non functional to functional with odd idiosyncrasies.   Back when I was a child, it was called being "learning disabled" which is kind of an odd and nasty term.  It makes it sound as though the learning part of your brain was disabled by robots or something.  And, being as I was a learning disabled child... I can assure you that was not the case, all parts of my brain were usually firing on 8-10 cylinders at any given time.  I think my teachers would attest to this, too.

Anyway, about 2 years ago, we received diagnosis on our oldest child Evan.  Evan is very bright, has been reading since about the age of 2 and a half, could recite the alphabet at 12 months, went into his year appointment with our pediatrician telling him that he had a octagon on his wall.  But, with all the wonderful smart things Ev can do, he has a very hard time focusing on things outside of his universe of discourse.
Evan is autistic.  He has what used to be called Asperger's disorder.  If this sounds familiar, it is; Paul was also diagnosed with the disorder as he was growing up.  That's maybe where you heard it from.  It's now referred to as being "on the autism spectrum" or "autism spectrum disorder."  Which generically describes people who are low functioning, people who can't speak, and a lot of variance in between.  The point is, their brains just work a wee bit differently.

Adding to this, Evan was also diagnosed with ADHD.  Now, attention deficit, hyperactivity disorder is where a person has a hard time focusing on the task at hand.

Add to that with Aspergers a person obsesses on a few topics and cannot remove their mind from said topics as easily as a neurotypical person, and has little or no sense of social queues what so ever... You can imagine what it might be like to be Evan for a day.

The teacher says "be quiet class, I want to read you a story."
Evan's brain chimes in "Hey dude, you know what would be really awesomely hilarious?  Let's talk about our 3DS with everyone around us!"
Evan thinks, "HECK YEAH" and begins to engage everyone around him in the heroic tales of street pass, and how he goes into adventure mode and slays monsters.
Half the class is now engaged in Evan's story, the other half listening to teacher.
The teacher does what she can to bring them back, but Evan's brain is still giving him input, wanting him to talk about things that interest him.
And his brain doesn't really see anything wrong, it doesn't record that teacher asked the class to be quiet, and now they are all being quiet and therefore he should follow suit.

The other day, I caught him using it as an excuse.  See, that's what I was afraid of.  Since I told his teacher, and we've been trying to work on ways to keep Evan on task, he's aware of his disorder, (I obviously tell him about it whenever he asks and all of that, too... but it's part of the daily discussion now).  But him trying to use it as an excuse really angered me.

You see, there's another dimension to this story.  I don't know who all knows this, but when I was 6 years old I was diagnosed with a disorder called "dyspraxia nervousa".  If you look up that condition now, it doesn't exist, it is just shortened down to "dyspraxia"    Dyspraxia is also on the autism spectrum, considered a touch bit less severe than Asperger's.  But still, I had a hell of a hard time in school, my sense of social queues was skewed, my handwriting was terrible, and my hands would cramp after writing relatively long assignments at school.

My parents never told me what I could and couldn't do.  They simply said "you're going to have more trouble with some things, so you will have to work twice as hard.  You'll have special support in the special education room, you can go there whenever you need it."

I was pulled out of class twice a week for several years thereafter for physical therapy.  The therapy was doing things like hitting a ball with a racket, the "superman" or as they call it in yoga the "lotus" pose, and all kinds of crazy things.  All done in the hallway at my school, all designed to strengthen my muscles and improve my hand/eye coordination, which is the primary thing that dyspraxia effects.  My Dad used to tell my teachers who didn't understand "put on two pairs of fabric gloves, you know, the stretchy ones, then try to pick up a pencil and write, and there you have Dee.  Keep that in mind when you read her assignments."  He tells me it used to make him so angry when they would display my work right next to the work of the other children.  Mine always looked pretty terrible comparatively, but at the same time, it was important that I felt like every other kid.  I got through school, and by 10th grade I managed to get de-certified from the special education program.  I was VERY proud.

Then, as I entered college, I realized what I really wanted to do was write, which is, incidentally, exactly the one thing that it's difficult for a dyspraxic to manage.  Aside from the physical limitations of my disability, there was the looming sequencing disorder, which makes it difficult for me to put steps of an operation into the correct order, as well as spell.  (you don't understand HOW much spell check is my friend, seriously, for reals.  It saves my arse daily.)
Also, I could never tell my left from my right.  To this day I have trouble.  I can write equally well with both my hands, so that makes it more difficult.
I used to have to talk to my feet in ice skating lessons  so that the darned things would do what I wanted them to.  I did pretty well in ice skating... strangely enough.  It was another thing I wasn't supposed to be able to do.

So, you can imagine how I felt when I heard my oldest child using his disability as a crutch.  I was so angry.
This morning, as the kids were getting ready for school, he lagged behind, refusing to put on his clothes, just sat around naked from the waist down, waiting for someone to do everything for him because he was "too tired."
I said "Hey Evan."
He looked up.
I said "You've got a big old brain in that head of yours."
he smiled and nodded.
I said "That big old brain likes to steer you down the wrong path a lot, though.  You need to show that sucker who's boss."
He said "But how Mommy?"
I said "You tell your brain, right now we are doing this thing, we'll get back to that thing later."
He looked as though he had his doubts and finally said "But Mommy, I can't talk to my brain."
I said "People talk to all sorts of things all of the time.  You can talk to your brain, some people talk to God all the time, I used to talk to my hands and feet.  You can do this!"
He smiled, then looked sullen, "But Mom, the Rubric is today!  I'm going to get a 1 again, I just know it"
1 is the lowest score on the Rubric, which is a self evaluation/teacher evaluation tool.
I said "That's ok Ev, there's always next week, and I'll be proud of you no matter what."
I hugged him tight and kissed his head.  He's getting too tall.  He's up past my shoulders already, pretty brown eyes, reddish brown, thick, straight hair, beautiful long eyelashes, and thin like his Dad.

When the diagnosis first came in, I was pretty frightened.  They kept telling me "Autistic kids need structure." and I kept thinking to myself, "I have about as much structure as an old building in an earthquake."  I kept thinking of those old collapsing toys, where you hit the button and they just fall all over themselves.  My kids are full of emotion, Evan has temper tantrums sometimes... It's hard to deal with.

But... Then I go back to what my old television neighbor said:

"There is no 'should' or 'should not' when it comes to having feelings.  They're part of who we are, and their origins are beyond our control.  When we can believe that, we may find it easier to make constructive choices about what to do with those feelings."

-Fred Rogers.

You have to just, find the emotion behind the tantrum, address the emotion, "I understand Evan that you are feeling frustrated because you cannot play a video game now.  And it's ok to be angry about it, but let's try to find a better way to use that angry feeling.  Can we draw about it?  Can we write about it?  Can we sing about it?"

I know I am going to handle all of this somehow.  I know Evan will do well, I just... get very frustrated sometimes.  But you know what?  That's all part of the process.

Raised on songs and stories...

and because my brain has blessed me with insomnia
it's time for
MORE BAD POETRY!!! YAY!


Dance with me
in a whirling dervish
of clustered emotion

I won't fall over my own feet
my graceless gait replaced with
one of poise and opulence.

Dance with me my dear
Remind me of beauty
and times when I was young
when I'd be swung around the dance floor
and wouldn't trip on invisible feet

the lake is never placid
the lake is never still
yet here we are together
and it shows me that it will
allow the sky to be reflected
upon it's shining surface

that night so many years ago
where I pledged my fate to another
who took my heart and buried it
in the icy sand

and you were there,
but you were not
and you had tried to warn me

your dark eyes locked
upon mine
as you sat there and implored me
"think about the things that matter
hang on to what you love
and by what you love i don't mean him
i mean your own personhood."

and i ignored
the warning voices
the voices on the wind
and i ignored
the beating waves
telling me of the future.

you washed along the shore
gasping for air
trying to scream with all your heart
that there was some one there, who cared

several years later
we came to that same point
where i drew your symbol in the sand
and promised we'd never part

sentimentality aside
when we danced in the waves for the first time
I thought one cycle had ended
and a new one had begun

it had
and now it's done
and the next, and the next
like mighty waves
threaten to blow me over
and take my breath

somewhere on that shore
is a short young thing, with short young dreams
who cried real tears
and felt real fears

and she is screaming out
"I will not give up on my dreams
I will not give up on myself"

So many years have passed and I
realized the pain of passing
i reached out for solidarity
and found myself reaching me

For I am
the only constant
in a world of constant change

So dance with me
in the white capped waves
blue, freezing against my sandaled feet
and suddenly warm
when I know that I'm home
on the shores of Superior.

Thanks asshole brains!

Sometimes I wish I had never learned how to interpret dreams.

So I have this dream of someone I've been close to recently wearing a shirt from the Anime "Bleach", it features the Substitute Shinigami design on the front of it.  He was just standing there, in that shirt in black, the symbol in white, all the rest of him in black.  He said nothing, he only stood and half smirked at me.
Last night, we had a discussion and I decided that I should leave his life as much as I could.  Though I'm not going into the details of why here, it's the right decision.

So, I interpret the dream... and it seems to say this relationship is dead.  If you go by standard meanings and substitute "Grim Reaper" for "Shinigami", because in Japanese myth, they are the same thing.

Duh.  Thanks brain.  I really fucking needed that reminder.

I'm going to go watch Bleach: Memories of Nobody and bawl my eyes out.  Great fucking idea.  Maybe my muse will come back and hit me over the head with something heavy.

Took the last train

So, I was doing well as far as writing, being quite prolific and then, I got sick.  That's the way it always goes though, don't know why I'm always so surprised.

My muse took the last train for the coast, and I don't know when she's returning, but guaranteed it'll be a time when I can't make space for her.  Or the space I make is the equivalent of a storage closet full of old toys.

I don't really have a whole lot on the brain in the past few days, seems it's quiet up between my ears.  Not thinking a whole lot on friendship or relationships in general.  No longer stopping the bleeding as far as Paul's seizures, he's acting somewhat normal again.

I am decidedly sad about the way things have turned out.  I don't feel like I have a partner and haven't for several years now.  I've got people in my life who fill that gap, or try to make my husband fill that gap, but... He can't.  I can go over this again and again though, and this is in the column of things that cannot change.
And people say how that isn't fair to me...

You know what, it isn't about what's fair to me.  I've dealt with fairness, or unfairness in droves in my life.  I think, a lot of what people think that is in error, is that x or y thing isn't fair to THEM.
Things aren't fair.  They aren't going to be fair.  The more you try to make things more fair for you, the less fair you make them to someone else.

One of my friends and I spoke a lot about equity right before Paul had his seizures, and I told him that the amount of equity in my current marriage is nil.  Then Paul had his seizures.
Where is that fair?  Where's the equity in that?  And here I am bitching that I have to do a few more things about the house.  I don't randomly fall on the floor, lose control of my bowel or bladder, risk a concussion or who knows what else because of some disease I have.
I don't know exactly what that means for me though.  I shouldn't have to do all the house work myself, but if I don't do it, it doesn't get done.
And I'm annoyed, this is the same talk I have with myself at the beginning of each year.

You know what?  I could have been happy.  I could have settled with a nice man or woman, (or not), and I could have lived a life that would have made my family and friends proud.  Instead, I chose love.

But this isn't what makes me happy, it's my kids.

But I still wonder what the hell I'm doing here still.

The road to acceptance

So, some may say I failed my perception roll.  Yeah, that's right D and D references coming up at you right now.

The holidays are basically over, house is covered in wrapping paper and children watching the latest Dr. Seuss movie, attempting to sleep.  7 year old was sick all day and unable to keep down food, and the relentless march of time sped on.  Yesterday my husband had 2 seizures in the wee hours of the morning.  Merry Friggin Christmas.

Previous to that, I received noticed that my job MAY be undergoing a slight case of immediate and permanent downsizing, and that my boss may be able to find jobs for us, but then again maybe not, and may be not in areas we would prefer to hold employment.

But I'm not here to bitch.  I've done my fair amount of bitching and now it's time to come to terms with all that I've absorbed in the past month.
First, I lost my best friend.  My anchor, the woman who kept me pseudo-sane without running to family every time my life went slightly askew in regards to the direction it heads in.  Yes, I realize I could eventually get her back and apologize for what I said... but I don't know if I am willing to do that anymore.  I mean, she got REALLY mad at me for saying I would do something that I would expect her to do if our roles were ever reversed.  I've allowed her anger in my presence for no reason more times than I can count, and needful reasons only a handful of times, and it occurred to me finally that we just aren't comparable.  Or that her being here, as much as I love her, (and I do still love her like a sister) was not compatible with my sanity.

Then there was my lionizing of a new friend, trying to make him into someone he isn't.  I halfway expected him to rescue me from this unhappiness that has been stewing for the better part of 5 years now.  I haven't fixed it, and he's not going to be able to fix it either.  The friendship didn't head in the direction I wanted it to, so instead of just dealing with that, I tried just rolling with the emotions of the moment, which was in turn bad for both of us.
I took that a bit harder than I perhaps should have.

At some point in the past 24 hours, the logic mind has taken over... that cold calculating bitch.  She says "These are the things that need doing, and you are doing them NOW.  You will not rest until all is done.  You will delegate  your life is a well oiled machine; automated, just add Robots."  Which is just the proverbial ass kicking that I need right now.  My house is in shambles, my kids all need me more than ever for various reasons, and I have great need to be Wonder Woman.  Friendship and emotion are my kryptonite.  (yes comic geeks, I do understand that Superman was the one affected by kryptonite, but let's just roll with this familiar analogy.)

So, I am moving into a singular mode now.  Paul and I had a partnership, but now he can't manage to be an equal partner due to his health,  In truth, he hasn't been an equal partner for a good long while, but he was doing so much better. I have a "stop the bleeding" mode I enter at these times.  It took far too long to take over, but has.  I'm just going to see if I can keep myself writing this time at minimum.  I need to let this creative part of me out or I find I become a blob of mass who can accomplish nothing.

It's like this: my shrink taught me something a while back, which has literally changed the way I live.
hAg
Ok... so this is what it is.  As you can see, the A is large, it's because it's the most important.  The h is for Humility.  To be humble with all that has come to you.  Being an egotistical bitch won't help anyone, especially not me.  The g is for Gratitude, be grateful for what it is that you do have.  The A... That's for acceptance.

We know a few logical things.  1. I can do very little to change my surroundings or circumstances right now. Knowing that, we know what doesn't work, complaining about it.  Ergo, we must accept it until we are in a position to change it.  2.  Letting my ego come in and bitch and moan that we should be doing better isn't going to cause me to do better.  What will help me do better in life is to acknowledge my sadness, but not let it overcome me.  This means know what the problems are, know what's upsetting me and know why.
3. Instability as far as my emotions is not excusable in any way to any one in my life currently.  With my anchor, she would not judge me.   She would take over when I was tired and weary. She could hear the signs and didn't mind doing grunt work. I don't have that now.  I have my family, that's it.  And there are times where they won't be able to help me.  At those times, I will have to help myself somehow.  This means attempting to sleep as close to a solid 8 hours a night as I can currently manage.  This will cause me to be less frantic and disjointed.  But knowing when it is acceptable for me to stay up later.

Acceptance is basically accepting my life isn't what I expected and that my life is not perfect.  It doesn't have to be, my best is generally good enough, and when it isn't I should be able to see that coming.

This rule in practice:  Knowing Paul is sick, knowing Paul has had a tendency in the previous nights to show more and more myoclonic activity when doing a particular activity online, then leaving the apartment to smoke when he is doing said activity without asking him to medicate himself.  This was foolish.  My failure also caused the second seizure.  But at the same time, he's an autonomous individual, in theory.  In practice... I wonder sometimes.

Instead of babysitting him and forcing the pills down his throat, I trusted him when he had told me he had taken his night dose.  After his second seizure, I saw the night dose still sitting in the dose cup on his nightstand.  He hadn't taken care of it.  After a seizure, for about 6 months, Paul can't truly be trusted to not lie, because his brain is lying to him and giving him bad information about reality.

So knowing that my despair is my own doing is a strange sense of comfort.  This means although I'm currently controlling things badly, I AM currently in control of all things within my universe of discourse; this may not sound like revelation, but do consider that to a woman who was formerly battered has very little feeling of empowerment.  My relative despair is empowering, in a strange sick way.  This is not the type of empowerment I wish to feel.  But amazingly enough, I control that too.

I accept today free of judgement my trespasses.  Now I am taking positive steps to insure that I am not caught unaware again.  Schedules will be drafted, tea and energy drinks prepared and drank, lists created, I will miss things.  That's ok.  So long as I am able to figure out how to fix the mistakes I make.

I'm going to go to the clubhouse later and hit the elliptical because my knees are fucking killing me.  I'm I making some odd reference to prayer?  I'll let you decide.