You got the needle?

That's me. Waiting to pop like a balloon. Full of frustration and weakness. Generally hopeful and optimistic. Those emotions are trapped in the drain from where I washed my hair.........

Pop like a balloon? Crying not needed. Relief, constantly searching.....

Sexual frustration? Look in the laundry basket.

Issues....well rounded, and plausible.

Environmental reactions..... on the way. Like the hero in those trashy paperback novels my great grandmother would read.......

Today, is blah. It's sprinkly. At least I got out of bed, out of the house.

Nothing sad going on, nothing dramatic, or anything exciting and happy, just a dose of nothing.

I guess, monotony.

Sometimes, I don't know what is worse, drama unfolding everywhere....
or, nothing to report.

Wait and see. I suppose.

If you need me, I will be in the bathtub, peeking over the edge, like a gator in the swamp.

All it Takes......is cheezy eggs.

Conjunctivitis of the life? What? Digging useless pits in the backyard, trying like hell to bury all the wrong crap in my life?
Rambling about validation, and having the cable turned off.... fixing? Turn on the timer.....

Could I bear it?

Can I lay in the swing in the backyard all my life? Hiding in a tree in the woods? Can't find me? Look up. Look at the dove in the tree.... she's at the very top.


Cutting the tops off of carrots I planted in the garden? Mindlessly washing them off while the pot on the stove boils over. Barely noticing.


Staying captive in your house and the only outlet is what isn't true interaction, with only my white flag waving...... and consumes you? Constantly connected to your network? I have a big list of friends.... but truly, only 4. If you look closely, I am hiding between the dryer and washer in the bathroom, like the "ghost boy" from 3 Men and a Baby.......

Digging like an earthworm, feeding on the dirt, getting fat, rising to the top of the soil when it rains.....drowning when it pours.

Staring at the preacher, having the words pound at your heart, while singing my favorite hymn, the lump in your throat becomes too large so I can't sing.
Tears come out, the silent ones, not a sob in sight.

Then, someone asks me, are you alright? Well, no. I'm not. More tears, sobs pop out of my little mouth before you realize it's happening....
The pain in my belly starts pouring out like water from a pitcher.......


Tearing out the guts of the piano I love so much to make a sled, because you desire the wind in my hair, finally feeling the mind blowing orgasm you so desperately needed while trying the new position I thought I really wouldn't be into.... Ripping up books I adore, and things you have written because it feels like a facade.....throwing them in the air like a snowstorm.......

These are the things escaping right now. Even if you read this months from now, years, even.....

When life is different still, maybe a little more easier, down the road.....

You will still find me at my kitchen table, itching to fight.

I had a guy that came to buy dog food, he wanted the bottom bag.....
Ok. He wanted the 40 lb bag.
Still, ok. I walked around, picked up the other bags, obviously, struggling.
This man was 6 foot something, capable.
I am 115 lb, tiny, lifting, moving, (fine, it's just fine).....
He lets me move shit around, and I am coming unglued.
Then, he states, have you ever baled hay before?
Well, yes. I have.
You can tell, you moved those without any trouble.....
You stuck your knee underneath it, it was natural for you.
The gloves came off. My defenses weak.....
He said, I would have moved those for you, but, you took it in your own hands.

What?

He left. He was nice.
He made me think.
People try to help me, and I resist.

I dig very deep, and you can only see my little eyeballs poking out of the ground.
And then , I bitch to myself, why can't anyone hear me?


Growing paranoia that someone will grab my feet as I go up the stairs.

Pink Moon

I'm just different. That's it. I am not going to be like my friends, maintaining marriages, chasing children, normal life.....

I may have to be smack dab in the jungle wresting snakes the size of myself.





Already, I show that I am just not like my precious group of girls.

I may not ever live in Texas with Jme.
I may not ever preach to congregations like her.

I may not ever touch another person's heart through ministry like that.

But, I know, God is using me in a mighty way.





I do not get along with electronics. If it's near me, I screw it up.
My camera? Screwed up.....
Cell phone? Hanging by a moment.
Literally.
It's just about in 2 pieces. Who cares?
No screen?
Screw it. Walk by faith, not by sight.......

My camera? Just leave it be.

It still works, but, it has cranberry juice in it.





Last night, I came out of church, and I was immediately happy.

My reason? You could hear the frogs making that frog noise....
It confirmed that warm weather is just round the bend.





My wake time? 5 A.M.

I don't understand my cycle. I have slept well lately.
Not last night. I kept waking up. I had this face in my head.

It was an ugly, twisted face. Not of anyone I know, but it was a face.



I could see a bare bit of light coming through the window in the next room.



My pillow and I could not get into rhythm.





Lent is almost over. Awesome. Will I start inhaling sugar? Nah.

Lent has been powerful. I still love pushing myself to limits, that are, sometimes, uncomfortable. Well, when it comes to temptations, I suppose.

I have read over and over in the bible about when Satan led Jesus into the desert.

It overwhelms me.

My weakness? Understanding.

I usually don't discuss my ex husband, and I won't bad mouth him.

Even though,I had never experienced such full devastation.

You see, it's been a year. Not today, but, in this month, it was a year.

March hasn't ever been a kind month.

My dog Chris, who was 14, died in 2007, of March.

You know who, left, March 2008....

My March 2009 story...... brings 2008 all too real again.



Have you heard the phrase, let a dead dog lie...??
Sometimes, that dead dog will get up and bite you square in the ass.......



I struggle. With improving. I struggle. With letting go.

I struggle with finding my place in the sun.



I had told my Pastor's wife last night, I just crave understanding.





The loneliest time? In the morning.

I spend almost all day long, alone, and it's not at work, right before....

And, I am a morning person.(kinda)

When I get out of bed, a certain melancholy feeling drapes over me, then, I'm relieved. I'm not leaving anyone behind in the bed.....

Go on, get up. Start the coffee.

Or right before I crawl in the bed.....and I realize, oh, it's empty.

This morning, I woke up at the foot of the bed......head at the foot?

My sweatpants somewhere on the floor....

At night, it can be the worst. It seems to be the most sobering point of my evening.

Not eating over my sink, one foot propped up on the inside of my knee....

Or when I come home, and look out the front door around dark, bc, I apparently am always expecting someone.....

So, I hate that....

I usually am a champ at ignoring those feelings. I plunge myself into projects, I go for a walk, fistfight anxiety......

What has ultimately hurt my feelings the most?

Till the Garden!!!

Tuesday. What a good day!!! I had my haircut, and it looks fabulous, probably the best H/C Mr. Pete Higgs has given me in a good while!!! Headlight out in my car got me off track from basking, yes, basking in the sun, for about 30 minutes, and right to Landa's. Beer drinking started at 1:00. Which is not something I just do. Have a beer @ 1:00? There are times the exception has to happen!!! We can't always follow those rules!!!!

We had to rent a tiller, there we go, beboppin' down the highway, in silence.
Listen closely.
What? You heard me.
Pure Quiet. Which isn't the rule either, generally Landa and I are talking. Steadily.

Not this cow.

It took, I don't know, 15 minutes to get to the place......
So we get back, hang out, still, not a lot of talking.

We seem fine with that.

Brings me back to a time Kim Perfetti and I could spend the entire day and barely say 10 words the whole day. This is when her oldest was a toddler. I guess we were 18ish. 19ish.

Back to Landa's.... the back door was open, we had a sandwich and watched Days of our Lives, and began our plan of action.

Should we wait for Steven to get the tiller off the trailer?

No, we don't. We hardly ever wait for Steven to help.
So Landa, taking matters in her own hands, gets the thing off of the trailer, and begins.

I roll up my jeans, bring up my top to sun my belly, lay my head on a towel, and nap.
Plain and simple. Nap in the back yard. On the trailer. While she does her tilling.

Legs danglin'....

I leave my chucks on.

Somehow, I cut my ankle during my nap. During a nap?

The boys get home.

Steven (her hubby) said, gosh, your'e red.

Seth (the oldest child) states, Miss Paula is getting a tan.....

Well. I am red, red lines to separate my chucks from my skin, jean line (bruise on hip from St. Paddy's day, knees, just about bruise free),(which is another post for another day, you thought I forgot, APW?), perfect line from my scoop neck tank top......

Before going home, we go to soccer practice....still, not a lot of talking....
Contentment I suppose, the past week, Landa and I have had those comfortable silences...

Before home, I drag my rear to the dam to walk, work some bugs out, try to work up an appetite for supper....

Drop by the grocery store, the lady says "Dang, you're red!!" I laugh.
BC, I am sweating. I mean, I am hot..... to the very touch....

I get home to inspect my skin, oh, it is red.....
Freckles poppin' out. My freckles are just perfect.
For me.
I love each one.

So, I'm a little itchy today. I don't have any lotion at my house, so I rub baby oil on myself, which, I don't really like.
I sit on the edge of the tub to dry out......

I'm cold, and hot all at once, so I put on my finest little shirt and panties, and my Melissa Dees toboggan, dodge Champ claws at all costs....

All and all, perfect day.

I didn't really feel any anxiety, or pressure, I went with the flow, instead of insisting doing things my way.....going against the grain....

The goats from the sheep

The one. Let me start with that parable form the Bible. Jesus told a story about a shepherd that left the 99 to look for the one. The shepherd? Worried about the one that could have fell in a pit, eaten by wolves, or worse, having a blast playing all day and at night discovering he's all by himself. It's easy to be the one sheep. Away from the herd. Or be the shepherd. To worry about the one. We are never left behind. That I believe.


My best friend, who is so beautiful and perfect, made me mad this week. Unintentionally. And it was brief. Fleeting. The mad? She really just told me the truth. She said, you have to go through the valleys to appreciate the mountains. Really?


Can I just not have to learn and endure so much? Has 2008 not been enough for me for now?


I don't know what God is preparing me for. I haven't a clue.


But it has to be huge. It has to be.



I look back on the uncomfortable. The devastating. The reason I know I am supposed to be someone amazing.



Here's something that eats at me. (But of course, love at the same time.)Being told how pretty I am. Or the word beautiful. Well, I don't feel that way. It's easy to be sexually attractive to men. It's easy to win them over with a piece of "the pie."



What isn't easy? Is the "uglier" parts of myself. The imperfections. The vulnerable. The awkward. The honest.



Do you know the times when I feel the cutest? When I find a tree to sit in, and let my feet dangle in my huge rubber boots I wear out in the woods. Or when I'm just about to fall asleep in a beater and my panties, cuddled up with Champ. Sitting on the dryer writing in my journal, listening to music.


The ugly? Ha. It's all over the place. My mama told me, over the weekend, that sometimes I say the meanest things before I realize it. Or I always assume others know when I'm being facetious.

Whoops.

Point taken, Vicky Clause.


I've had to look back lately.


Hurt is so hard to get over. I know, March was going to be difficult. I knew how hard it was going to be. Continuing to let go, and to move on. It was hard to let go of my marriage.

Open?
Open minded?
Sometimes, it's impossible.


Sometimes, it backfires.


It leaves you unapproachable.

My issues? It's not trust. Or cheating. Or fear of people leaving me.

Is hope. That's my issue. I am so hopeful, that it makes me shake.


Wearily, I feel like I'm just waiting. Waiting for the good. I already battled the bad and the ugly.


For the time being. Sometimes, all I want is a good hug. A tiny little moment of it's gonna be alright......


I heard a sermon yesterday. It was by the great Dr. Charles Stanley.
He was at his church in Atlanta.
In the great state of Georgia.
His message? It was about doing our best.
About how parents can cultivate their children.
He spoke about his mother.



How his mother always told him to do his best.


Well, did you try your best? Yes. Then you did all you could do.


That was how my parents were. School was so difficult for me. I hated it. It's a 1997 miracle I was able to get out of high school. they encouraged me, but to do my best, and even when my best wasn't the standard, they accepted me.


A flicker of encouragement can light the fire...

Ei Ei O

Yesterday, I received some great news. Yesterday, I was able to let out a long, sigh of relief. Able to close one more door. Closer to breaking free. Facing things that give me anxiety, loosen the strings a little bit, makes me a happy camper.
I have more than I need, or deserve. Lent has proven itself to be exceptional. There are times I have to hold back. Occasions, I just can't have what I desire. Lent has taught me, self denial can, and will continue to be rewarding.

MY HEAD CHANGE HAPPENED RIGHT HERE....



You know those voices in your head? The ones that say, be selfish. You deserve it. Haven't you done enough? Go on, little piggy, go for it. I want to be. I love to be, then that other voice chimes in, Guilt?

Guilt and I are familiar lovers. We glance at each other, then look away. I tell myself to resist. I push it deep down, sweeping it out of the way like I sweep the steps at home. I fall for it still. Guilt holds me in it's arms like a mama holds it's baby. Like when a man loves a woman. Guilt shoots me down like a hunter in the woods.

Ragamuffin. What a word. It sums up exactly what I feel like.

I want to go back to bed, cover my head, and ignore life.

And stop my mind from being curious about what I'm missing out on.

Ignore the lessons I have to learn.

A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1.

There's also a song in my head.

I don't know the name of it, but one of the lines is
"Give me revelation" .......

That's a part of my hodge podge of emotion, right? Give me revelation.
Hurt. Confusion. Honest. Humbled.

Yearning for comfort.

I have been in the middle of just throwing an awful fit.

I don't always feel better after those, those, FITS.


I feel worse, actually. I feel absolutely lost.

My knuckles aren't better from the last fit I threw.
I'm glad, it's given me a reminder.

Blah, blah, blah. Fuck it. That's how it may be for the day. Blah. And nothing else. I don't feel like myself, like a wolf in sheep's clothing to be exact. Sometimes, my emotions deceive me to the point of losing control. That's it.


How 'bout not making me feel like a fuck up?

How 'bout not breaking your phone in half too?

Being enveloped in David Bowie is okay though. (1971)

Buddy Rich, I am.

I'm Buddy Rich when I fly off the handle. What could it be, It's a mirage, you're scheming on a thing that's sabotage. ( Self sabotage )

That's like standing on the threshold of a sinkhole. Like the one I know well,and I still think is amazing..... Nothing around it, just smack dab in the middle of the woods. It's very deep, so deep, that when you throw rocks in it, it's hard to hear where it hits. Also, amazing hiding place. No one thinks to look for you by a huge sinkhole.


Dreams. Dreams. Dreams. Working overtime in my little mind at night. They say, when you dream, that dreams arise from REM sleep, in which the brain is as active as it is when the body is awake. Makes crystal clear sense to me.

Latest dream? About a snake in a creek. I had stopped by the creek, and stuck my foot in, it was cold, but I couldn't see the bottom. Which is a phobia of mine. I can't get into water I can't see my feet in. Stupid huh? Being a woman of faith, that's my fear? Silly.

The snake, was very thick, almost cartooney. I was very fearful. First of all, I had put my hand out to touch it. Cartooney, and very mean looking. I wanted to pet it though. Very curious about what kind of snake it could be, I get in the water, waist deep. Just about to catch the thing, and I wake up.

I hate that. When I just don't know how it ends. Or being completely awakened from something so intense. I looked at the clock. 3:33.

Triple numbers? That's my shizzy. I dig the triple threat I suppose.

Snakes seen in a dream. Many different interpretations.

To see a snake or be bitten by one in your dream, signifies hidden fears and worries that are threatening you. Alerting you of something in your waking life you may not be aware of.

Symbolize temptation. Fears of sex, intimacy, or commitment. Phallic symbol.(obvious)

Snakes can represent healing, transformation, knowledge, and wisdom.

Indicative of self renewal and positive changes.


Kindly sheep, your gentleness is sometimes misunderstood for weakness.

Hee Haw

Sunday nights are usually uneventful at my little house, the dogs usually get a bath, light clean up around the house, a dab of laundry. Movie watching. Between self analyzing, and yep, self loathing, and appreciation, I was tangled in the web of Family Guy. Normal Peter Griffin madness right? Then, like a beacon cutting through the fog, Conway Twitty!!! Fancy, cowboy, Conway Twitty. On Hee Haw. Have you ever noticed every song that man ever uttered out of his body were songs about cheatin', pleasin', touchin', teasin', and effin'? Mostly effin'. Results of his effin'. Build up to effin'. Who was next on the effin' list. Who he might be effin' around somebody else's back. My conclusion?

You can apply most life situations to:

A. Any Conway Twitty song
B. Any Reba Mcentire lyrics.
It's true. She sings about it all.



Swedish fish. On my mind, the candy. Not that I want any, but I am thinking of a very dear friend of mine that passed away in 2008. Her name is Heather Anderson Land. She would get a kick out of this blog. The first part of it, she would have laughed. She struggled with cancer for 3 years. When I see swedish fish I think of that girl. I think about how courageous she had to be. I think about the times she came into work so nauseous it was the only expression she wore the entire day. She had married her long time boyfriend the summer before she died. We all knew her prognosis. We all knew how it could end. They still carried on, like it was the normal process, which it was, it was just different. It started in her foot. Exactly. In her heel. A dark spot. That wouldn't go away. Crazy huh?



Do you expect me to go on about her amazing attitude? Well, she was perfect. And honest. You could ask well, how are you? I'm shitty, or just trying, or I'm fine. She didn't hide it. She knew how important it was to show the transparency of her emotions. To be vulnerable.



She passed away a day after my birthday. 1 day. We were the same age.



I can't help to think of my friend Steven, who is amazing in his own right. I'm not really sure if he's dead or alive. Steven, not once, called me by my name. He thought I was some kind of fairy. He would say things like my fairy has come to see me, let me show you my knife collection. ( There wasn't a knife collection, BTW.) The point is, Steven didn't see me for who I was, he saw me for who he made me in his mind. He would braid my hair, go for walks in the woods. Scramble by the lake in Jefferson City. If you take the dirt road by the water treatment plant, you can walk on the lake bed. That, my friend, was an ultimate Sunday. I could tell him anything. Why? He wouldn't remember. He wouldn't repeat it either.



He would say the most obvious things, and I would eat it up. Not ever meaning to give advice.


I saw a bird fly into a window today, and I had to laugh at loud. Mean?



Ok, so I may be mad at God.
Feeling like Job all over again.
Is it necessary?
In order to stretch a little more?
Must I feel uncomfortable to gain?

Survival of the fittest

Today produced a flashback.

A flashback of the day I had last seen Jme in Murfeesboro.

We had went to eat lunch, and I was a wreck. I was hungry, super sinusey.
Evil, little stare on my face.

The day was overcast.

Tickled to be with Jme.

Sad she was moving back to Texas.

We had been to the post office, doing duties only your best girlfriend would perform. She was nervous. We had to mail packages. The longest line to a P.O. you have seen.
We didn't have 1 or 2. We had 4 or 5. Bags. Purses.

Do you have a pen?

Check.

Right here.

At the P.O., we decide to mail things through the do it yourself thing. It was fine.

Until the line backed up on us.

O.K., we can do this.
You know that frustration with yourself when you feel extra pressure.
Gotta hurry, the person behind me is pissed.

Look at her, cute jeans. Ugly face. ( Did I mention judgement? )

Buttons pushing, weighing packages, card using, typing skills become challenging.
All of a sudden, so hot, you can't see straight.

I hate pressure. I can't stand living in a pressure cooker.

All said and done, we got back into the car.
Let me get back to my moodiness of that afternoon.
We had decided to eat lunch. At Mellow Mushroom.
Losing my effing mind out of hunger.

We sit.
And sit.
And sit.

I am a time bomb ticking away.

Jme goes to the restroom, I had noticed this extremely good looking, older man.
Really, a hot, older, man. A firefighter.

Bring on the hose.

He smiled. I smiled.
He mouthed, how are you?

I literally looked over my shoulder.
P.S. We were sitting in the corner.

I mouthed fine, and couldn't stop smiling.

This foxy, fire fighter man, was totally checking me out.

I welcome it.

Today, a similar situation occured.

Not a foxy firefighter, but a foxy, well dressed, but still kinda casual man at the grocery store.
Older.

Beautiful blue eyes. Raging eye contact.

Hugh Laurie agish.

Take me now. To your car and bang me relentlessly.

Please.

Read carefully, I don't want to do your dad.

It just feels amazing, when, hot dudes check me out.
Even the older ones.

Even the ones who just want to bang me. Even the ones who are begging me to be in realationships with them. Even the ones who only look at my rack when speaking to me.
Even the ones who don't interest me in the slightest bit. ( Did you notice? Realationships, that's how I naturally type that word. ) Word!

Fixed? There's no need to repair what just may not be broken.

We misjudge sometimes.

Like when you close one eye and try to focus, different vision.
Depth perception.
Open them at the same time...
Totally changed point of view.

I love gumption, it's absolutely admirable.

It's when you can air the gumption, not just say you have it.
But prove it's salt.

6 Hours

That's it! I was able to sleep for 6 hours last night!
It's a record for the week, past 2 weeks?
I feel pretty darn tootin' good. I cried last night. Just a little.
Apparently, it was just enough.

Taxing?
Doesn't even begin to outline some of the emotions I have been producing.
Experiencing.
Angry.
There it is.
I'm more than sure anger has not just been a fleeting emotion for me as of late.
It has to do with so many environmental issues.
Past crutches, current tendencies.
The weather. (Todd Howell, I still haven't forgiven you.)

This past week, I started shaking.
Pent up? Even laying in bed with a Mark Harmon poster.... No relief in sight.
That's not when it started. Sunday afternoon?
Screaming, cussing, fit with a yard tool of my Mom's.
Slashed knuckles produced. Broken tool thing.
Red faced. No tears. Just piss and vinegar.
Jumping up and down on this, this, thing.
Throwing the thing across the yard....you get the picture.
Shakes.

No sleep.
Monday.
Tuesday, little nap through the night.
Wednesday, 2 hours, and the episode began.
Work frustrations reigning down, attitude in check, the severe shakes began.
Head change, stomach on fire, shakes.... heart racing.

It's not coffee.
It's not cold meds.
It's not from lack of eating.
It's just me. And my body rebelling like a wild, hormonal, teenager.

Did I mention the full moon?
Now, I'm not Miss Crystal Visions type of tracking the moon gal, but, it all ties in.
The passion flowing? Adrenaline?
Anticipation?

It's Paramount.

You know the days you wish your lover had a higher thresh hold of pain?
Trapped in a box, shadowboxing? Shoe throwing, screaming aggression?

Searching for my own personal Jesus? Salvation?

Which brings me to sexual addicts. Compulsion.
That's not my bag, not my burden, but I can relate to those feelings.
Of compulsion.
Drawn in.
Having such a deep desire to satisfy a carnal pleasure.
In bed, you have to be someone different.
Surrender.
Submission.
Fingertips walking down my hip bones, my skin screaming to be touched.

That's not even the half of it. Nope.

Compulsion? Not being able to help it?
Yeah, I have 'em. Addictions.
My shades of gray? Nope, black and white.
My remedy?
Pursuit. Of the silly little fox jumping down in the hole to it's den.....

Reality strikes me. Rides me, relentlessly.

Manners!!! Mind them!!!!!

Try!!!!

Turning back, March 6, 2009. 4:30 A.M.
I heard knocking.
Plain as the nose on my face.
From somewhere. The dogs didn't bark.
In my mind? The knocking?
At my door?
Real?
Imagined?

It happened. I know it for a fact.

March 9, 2009. Midnightish?
Last night, in bed, I heard the knocking.
If someone were outside, the dogs would have been in knots.

Hips are killing me. Back to body in rebellion....
Pushing myself to limits that I can't bear, I was able to catch a portion of rest.
Who knows. Why.

It is what it is.

Tough titty, said the kitty, but mmm mmm, good is the milk!

You get what you get, and don't pitch a fit.

Skin and Bones

Starting with a short dialogue from the monumental movie known as Footloose.

This is the part when Ariel (the Pastor's daughter) comes home late from her first interaction with Wren. (Kevin Bacon) The Pastor, (John Lithgow) meets Ariel on the steps. Ariel is smiling, just about to go up the steps.

Shaw: Been drinking?

Ariel: No.

Shaw: You smoking something?

Ariel: No.

Ariel: I wasn't stealin', I wasn't gamblin', I wasn't reading books I'm not supposed to! I am late!

What does that have to do with the price of scallops on the shore? Nothing.

By now, if you read this, you know I write exactly as I am thinking it.
It just comes out. I try to "Shut mouth, open ears".
It doesn't always work for me.
Which is something I am digging my little heels deep into.

I have given up sugar.
It's really been relativativly easy.
Except for 3:30 or 8:30.
Those are my craving times. It's just that cut and dry.
There we go.
I gave up sugar for Lent. Which is awesome.
Right now is such a precious time.

The whole self denial thing has always been bitter sweet for me.
An exceptional thing for me. I like that challenge.
I like the thought of giving something up to gain pleasure.
To gain perspective.

I came home around 5ish yesterday, after laying on the back porch with Landa.
I had put two chairs together, kinda like a little cot.
I had my legs flung around the armrests. Propped up on the back of the chair.
Laying in the sun, the warmness, the sweet serenity of being still.
Sun shining on my face.
It made me ache.

I thought about the hands in her flower bed, the hands holding the little bird?
If that could be me,
I would curl up in such a tight little ball, you would just dare yourself to touch me.
Look at me.
Care for me.

Back to barreling up the driveway, I had to stop! Right at the steep incline.
Two doe, jumping across the driveway. I sat there, amazed.
Just like that, two incredible creatures, in the middle of my madness.
I began to think, you stinker.
You don't always appreciate the things that make you smile.


This morning, I looked over into this field, that I always look at. I don't know why, but I do.
Usually, there is a lonely cow by himself.
Grazing.
Sometimes laying smack dab in the middle.
Waiting for the slaughter?

No cow this A.M., just turkey.

Wild turkey. Not the whiskey. Great, wild, male turkey, tails fanned.
Lady turkey everywhere. 15? 16?

It took my breath.
It made me smile.
It made me look up.

We all have different levels of comprehension.
I don't always understand people.
I can't.
I don't. I haven't ever had the same comprehension level.
Where I have been made to feel like a failure, it has been a great source of pride.
It's because God gives me the ability to think and comprehend how He sees fit.

Hope is born of suffering.

As I sat on the dryer to write last night, I looked out into the woods.
Everything was off. The tv was off. Dogs laying contently on the carpet.
Legs dangling off the side.
I could hear the wind moving the trees.
That stretchy little sound the wood makes when moved by something invisible.

Makes that burning in my chest and belly, burn wilder.

As a little girl, I loved being in the corner. The confinement.
Being alone.
The punishment.
Having that time to reflect on my actions.

Of course, as a girl, that wasn't my thought.
But, as I look back, it was true joy.

My mother's milk.

Go with your gut

Full moon.
I knew it.
I knew it was tonight.
I waffled between the 7th and the 9th.

Toil

2 Timothy 1:7

God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self discipline.

That's how it begins. I always let my emotions run away with me.
It's who I am. The Lord consumes me like fire.
I feel captive in my own body.

I lose sight on the rest of the world.
I am on a turn table, and everything is swirling around me.

I am very lost in a sea that I do not control. So much bigger than me.

Running to stand still.

Useful in my own demise. Maybe? Maybe.

I need a break. I need a break!!!
From my emotions, from this life that I am struggling to cultivate.

Am I the cow waiting for the slaughter? Trying to understand.

When something unexpected happens, it's a part of HIS plan.

The more a palm tree is burdened, the more straight it becomes.

Put the color in my world. Be the sun in someone else's sky.

Don't worry about losing.
If it is right, it happens.
The main thing is not to hurry.
Nothing good gets away. John Steinbeck


Smart food?

I have to stop comparing oranges to tomatoes.

This is what I hear.
All the time. These are my thoughts, raging.
I have to concentrate very hard on things.
To the point I should be exhausted.
All the time, but no, sleeplessness is the dragon I have to slay. Nightly.
Everyday can be such a challenge for me, that I am fearful.
Of the sun rising, setting.
Terrified to be alone at my own house. My safe place.
Thank God for the seasons. Thank God His hand is on me.

Purely devastated. Awesomely motivated.

Can others see Christ in me?

Once again, there's God's Will, and our choices.
I will always stand firm on those principles.

Sometimes we say things that are never to leap off our tongues again.
Better as thoughts.
Not as statements.

I hate that. I have fought. I have fought.
Again, and again, I show how weak I am.
Fully aware... ( right back to The Garden )

I see you. I see you clearly.

I had a dream that a nurse gave me a vaccine.
She said, just in case.
I dream very vicious, evil, little dreams.
They are never good.
It seems like the darker the better, the more realistic they are.

Last night, that was my dream, I was in a non-descript place, but there was the nurse, plain as day. She actually looked some like Linda Carter. ( which makes sense )
I said, I cant take that shot!
It's huge!!
It will hurt!!!
Please, is there another way?
She said, silly goose, I'm going to give you a shot in the rear.
So you won't see it coming.
So, maybe, you won't hurt so badly.

This is not a normal dream. At all. For me.

Let me reiterate...

Even as a small child, I had terrifying dreams.
That included, but not limited to,
dreams of kidnapping,
invisible people taking me,
things attacking me in my bed. Gore.
Out and out terror.
In my safe place.

So, for me to have this dream with a mother figure like Linda Carter, trying to prepare me, give me a line of defense, to keep me safe. Was monumental.

I am a very different woman today.

That's how it is right?
We are always growing and changing. Evolving.

Choking,
Running,
Crying,
Afraid,
Unsure,
Denying,
Begging,
Asking,
Looking,
Smiling,
Laughing,
Realizing,
Sleeping,
Dreaming,

Living nightmares, day in, day out, monthly, yearly.

I am some kind of vessel, and so are you, coming to grips with it is the crazy part.
Obsessing part.
Extreme part of ourselves.

Beautifully misunderstood.

But, it's not about me, is it?

When you care about someone else?
You empathize, struggle, bear their weight as if it is your own.
Communicate.
Listen.
Shut my mouth, open ears.
Absorb everything about that person.

Accept what you can't change.
Embrace the parts that are amazing.


Loss is about acceptance, right?

Reap what you sow.
Tend to your field!!!

Play nice,
That lump you get in your throat,
To realize how selfless it is to give yourself away.
Expose.

Anticipation.

Here we go.

A couple of months ago, I saw this amazing example of how I see myself sometimes.
Through my whole life, actually.

One morning, driving to work, I pass a farm that is divided by the highway. Not really unusual, but, this particular morning, I saw this calf. A little black calf, by himself. Gazing. Staring. Mesmerized.

On the other side of the road, there was a small herd of cattle, eating hay.
If this little calf could fly, he would have. He wanted to be on the other side so badly!!!
Coveting. If a cow could covet, that would be it!!!

I have to point out, this is where the comparison to myself and this little cow, is, this little cow had hay on his side of the fence. But, he was too hungry, too focused on the other cows to see opportunity right in front of his face.

The hay is right there!!!!

Your hay is much more shiny, and much more interesting...
no, my hay is just right.
I often forget.

That was my thought last night, laying in the tub, inhaling steam, staring at myself through my legs in the reflection of the tripleverplate. ( the shiny, round thing that most tubs have in order to make the shower trigger to work ). (Look it up.)
I layed there, relaxing, washcloth laying on my belly....

Are you still that little calf?

I like to think I have grown since then.
Last night, I daydreamed that time was standing still.
It was a feeling of such perfection.

I wasn't looking for permission, or asking for forgiveness, or begging for mercy.
I felt useful.
Just then, all the plates had shifted, and I found my purpose.

Then, over, and over, a little thought came blazin' through... uninvited.
Death is nature's aphrodisiac. Where did I hear that?

I want to turn it off!! So, under the water I go. Listening to the sounds.
Legs propped up on the wall. I hear, absolutely, nothing.

Learning to be content.
Marked for happiness.
Can't you see it?
Pleasantly surprised.
Dynamic.

Walking away from a disposable life.