seventeen years. . . of what?

D and I went out for our 17th wedding anniversary. The night was punctuated by me being unhappy. He tipped 30 % becasue I sent my salmon back. So dinner was a dissappointment. Then we went to smoke cigars. (Our time in the cigar bar would have been far more appealing sitting beside someone else). Buying boxes was fun but they needed a humidore to keep the cigars in for they were very dry. Afterward all hell broke lose and it is another experience that is best forgotten. It will be hard to forget this is our last anniversary. I will never be with anyone else long enough to reach 17 years nor will I raise children with anyone else. I will divulge that information gleaned from D made me all the more determined that he be removed from the chidren's lives. If my medication didn't keep me so numb, I would have to throw up. I will be far more inquisitive of people I let into my life. I found out things about him---OH GOD. He didn't have a chance and his chance with me was destroyed becasue of what he has lived. I cannot overlook it. Anyone with common sense would have gottem themselves out of the predicament that was my engagement because they would have realized that if the sight of someone raises your hackles then you may not want to be around them. I am going to continue on my medication since it enables me to remove myself and remain aloof until he is served. I have put all my paperwork in and have gradually moved down my extensive list of things to do so that I am prepared to be in charge of everyone and actually get them to cooperate. If we can get this house in Mimi order--I will consider my efforts successful. They should be here at any moment.

Here is the shortest way to express the mood for number 17:


What ia missing is more important than what is depicted. The girls loved the cigar boxes and I am going back to get some more. Iz took 4 and Gwen two leaving me with 2. I am also looking on ebay to see if they sell and what ones are worth the most. I got some great boxes and as much as I know that cock roaches love boxes, I cannot part with them. Speaking of, I killed white baby roaches today which precipitated research. I am doing everything I can to not think about my waking dreams. I kept trying to hug H3 and my arms were only grasping air. Thank God for Klonipin. It took two and pacing to bring my heart rate down. We were sharing a room together on Wimbledon Dr--something we never did. I am sure the fighting beween the girls and who is going to share with whom brought this about. None wanted to compromise. In a family this size, that cannot be. Just another issue to write down. . . . My Action list never shortens. I have dentist appt's again. I was sure we just completed them!

New family member or I have become a grandma again

Anxiety and depression

Maybe there is no such thing. I wish anyway. It is one of those weeks where I can feel the waves of anxiety wash over me. I loathe this feeling because I feel so impotent. Medication cannot help me--or it isn't helping anymore. I don't know that there has ever been a greater need for me to connect with people and I don't know if there has ever been a time I have felt more alone. I am avoiding the phone and FB. All I want to do is hide.


What Are the Symptoms of Depression?
For major depression, you may experience five or more of the following symptoms for at least a two-week period:

Persistent sadness, pessimism
Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, helplessness, or hopelessness
Loss of interest or pleasure in usual activities, including sex
Difficulty concentrating and complaints of poor memory
Worsening of co-existing chronic disease, such as rheumatoid arthritis or diabetes
Insomnia or oversleeping
Weight gain or loss
Fatigue, lack of energy
Anxiety, agitation, irritability
Thoughts of suicide or death
Slow speech; slow movements

Of these I suffer every symptom. I woke this morning with the weight of the world on my chest. Dreams were disconcerting and anxiety filled. Even more difficult to deal with is the pain throughout my entire body. It hurts to move and it is all in my head--literally. I cannot wait to get back to the Cape. Too many bad memories everywhere. At least I will have a bit of a support network. Oh to just hang out with all my highschool friends! No husband...wow I cannot believe how my life has turned out. I ask repeatedly what I have done, or more what can I do to change from here on out. I have been accused of being selfish. Maybe I have been. It is certainly sefish of me to enjoy pg so much that I had more children than I can afford. I have been selfish in wanting more time to myself. I was selfish thinking to throw away everything that is simply my responsiblility to run off with J. I am so grateful that I had a small window of bliss once I let down my defenses and just loved freely. I remember the moment I did so and how afraid I was of feeling fully. Love freely for it may be your last chance. I have vowed to love my children with all my heart. They are to come first--they need to come first. They need to come first.

Unfortunately for me, I have had a set back. I had hoped to see some change in my thinking pattern. With the mess Gigi has handed me, I am faced with being under the microscope again. I already have therapists coming to my home for everyone and I am trying to maintain the busy schedule that comes with taking care of kids. This had been a lesson in futility for I am overwhelmed. I just want sleep and more sleep. I am rested but feel like I have been up for days, Today I can just claim that it being an overcaste day makes it okay to stay in bed, R should be here just before lunch and I don't feel like talking. I want to isolate. I need a postive for the day: I am a good cook and my kids like what I make them. How trite but I have to take baby steps again and feed on pablum. There is no rush to anything since I don't have anyone waiting for me--loving me from afar LOL!!! Just get me through today. That is all I ask.

It does not end!

What is it going to take for me to live a normal life? I never expected to have ended up where I am. Right now I am blogging while I await a DCF worker coming to question me about Gigi. This is the cordial follow up to their 1 am visit on a Sunday morning with the police.. I cannot believe that I am afflicted with anxiety and no matter how calm and organized I try to make my life, the troops and the universe is not aligning with me. The balance of power is UNBALANCED--I need to be far more strict than I am but then I would be yelling constantly. I really feel like I am managing a corporation in which none of the employees care about job security.

I'm going to "buy a ticket for the long way round, the one with the prettiest of views, its got mountains, its got rivers, its got sights to make you shiver and it sure would be prettier with you." Who is "you"? I feel bereft, empty and confused. And lonely--lonliness has been my most constant companion through most of my life. I am not sure if there was a specific event......no, there was. UV molested me when I was 5 and mum caught him. She yelled at me rather than speak to the very confused child who did not understand the situation. I guess I believed I was bad and that negativity has followed me. I bet this also ingrained my fears of failure and success for if it looked like I was not going to be the cream of the crop then I would "act out" so I could justify failing. There are no more excuses.



I find if I make my bed and dress, the pain in my chest abates for a bit because I fully concentrate on what I am doing. Today I
learned of the plethora of uses of graphene,a crystal carbon sheet with electrical properties. I have not stopped cleaning for days. The void is avoided as long as I focus on the mundane.

Today, I start to heal?

I made sure I pushed J as far away as I could. I wrote horrible things to him, writing as mean as I possibly could and rather than feeling a sense of relief he won't be able to hurt me again, I am sorry I hurt him. I am not sure what I did to receive a text that should have been sent to his ex, but it seems like I have been who he takes his anger out on. Oh Lord, I fell in love and it hurts so badly. I never want to love again. I survived so long not loving that I had forgotten how much it hurts when it ends. This is why D was always so safe--I didn't and don't love him so he can hurt me but my heart is protected. I just realized that this self protection even includes my kids. They can tell me they hate me and it doesn't hurt. S said J is damaged but I think I am just as damaged. I do hope she calls him but I really only want the best for him and maybe if his family becomes involved he won't feel so indebted to Jen.

This may be my last post on this blog. I am emotionally stunted and don't feel this has help me grow at all. I processed one of the deepests pains one could imagine and the kids have passed homeschool into the failing public school system. Because I am only a shell or shadow of the woman I once was, I don't have the strength to homeshcool them. I don't want to get out of bed. I have nothing to prove to anyone and noone really cares anyway.

I dabbled in a few things and have concluded I am truly not interested. Peversion is not really in me. I had fun while it lasted, being a pretend femme fatale. Now I am back to being frumpy Heidi that noone will give a second look. This is fine. I have done the research and found that the payback for the amount of work required to sart a site does not pay off so to speak. And LORD knows I don't want to make a career out of flogging people--just ick. To all those true Mistresses, my hat is off to you because it is a lot of work. Just the research involved is daunting and I did a lot of reading.

As for dating--laugh out loud. Legal Aid is doing my intake on October first and I am not even fit to be friends with animals, never mind someone's girlfriend. Whatever that Zoosk thing is on fb that I joined way back in 2009 had not been used. Yes, I have gotten messages but I never reponded to anyone. My heart wasn't into meeting anyone in 2009 because I thought so little of myself and not much has changed. further, I thought I had met the man that made me happy. As usually, I was wrong. I feel so used, and that I allowed it makes me feel even worse about myself. If that were possible. . .So the focus needs to be on me and if I have to force myself through the days,then so be it. Thankfully D is starting a truck driving job where I will not see him. His goal it to get back home. I don't know how I am going to get out of here but even Sam thinks I need to leave FL and she has only been an internet friend. One day, when I am not looking, somone will ask me what I am reading and he will have read it too. I will share that my favorite story is Cinderella and, like her, I am awaiting my prince. Coffee will be sipped, laughter will ring and I will realize my edges are no longer fuzzy and I feel solid again. Someday.

Lots of drafts

I read one of my posts where the survivors of a sister's suicide find more meaning in life, find it more precious.  I guess I am one of the unfortunate few who don't.  I have been suffering from a disease for a large protion on my life and the struggle seems to be too much right now.  I read my introduction to my blog and I would laugh if capable.  Right now there is no laughter.  Plenty of hugs from my kids who have experienced this before.  If this is how I fall apart losing a friend, what good am I going to be to them when their father is gone?  Even thought the hate runs deep, he pickes up the pieces when I can't cope.  He is a caretaker and abuser--what a combination.I lay in bed last night and thought over and over how I feel nothing for him.  And I am not storng enough to forgive.  He wants me to love him so badly and I just can't.  i play his confessions over and over in my mind and I want to throw up.  I thought I was in a loving marriage before the abuse started--dysfunctional but at least some kind of respect.  Now I know I was just being fooled.  I have never been a good judge of people.  To think he touched me after gang banging another woman--the rest is to sick to write.  I need my grandmother.  She was the only one that really cared for me and never judged.  Right now I have noone to call, noone to really care except that pathetic excuse for a man who thought it smart to confront J's ex wife for no more reason then to get answers?  For what.  Am I not clear enough?  Aparently not and I blame it on my soft eart and it is  hardening.  Am I going to become even more bitter and resentful?  Am I damaged beyond hope?  Will I ever be able to have a normal relationship?  Will I find someone who will love me with all my mess?  I thought I had but I realize now that I was being judge and compared.  I told him everything "wrong" with me so he would know what he was getting into.  Apparently that, too wasn't enough.  I didn't want to pretent I was something I was not. I wanted to be loved for the real me, as ugly as that can be.  Unfortunately he compares me to his ex and I always come in last.  Funny, had I not let her into my life I would still be sober.  She used my house as her escape from her mom to drink.  Yet again, I am a bad judge of character.  Even though everyone warned me of her true character.  She's stolen from me more than once and coveted what little I had.  She couldn't even be honest if she tried.  But I feel like I am wasting words.  I loved, I lost.  Thirteen years passed before I was able to put my last love in perspective.  I wonder how long this time.

Alas,I will stand on this

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

 for today:

A wonderful thought.

“You should date a girl who reads.
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.” 
― Rosemarie Urquico

I will not expound.  I have a book calling.