Random, Lazy Thoughts

This is a list of random thoughts, incomplete and broken. My mind is not able to coherently combine anything tonight into a logical discussion. The solution, just write them all out. I tried to write logically last night and lets face it, that blog went no where. So I am just going to write as I think. Random, overflowing, overlapping thoughts that circle and twine together. The muddle mess within.

As I sit here drinking my beer my mind begins to wander. How is it that some are alive and able to be just okay in the day to day routine without living? My answer is that it is better then the alternative.

Speaking of beer, I never have been a big beer drinking. The past couple of months though it has been my poison of choice. Normally I would have chosen Tequila. The burn as it flows down my throat, the taste. Then I went through a Vodka Cranberry stage. Sweet, smooth. Beer, simple, cheap. Perhaps I am trying to tell myself something by what I choose to drink. I do not care for Coors, so I sit with my Bud Light. Light beer, seems to be a cliché’. Wait, Budweiser is no longer an American owned beer is it? That sucks. American companies seem to want to bail out on the American people or did the American people bail out on the American companies? Instead spending less for horrible quality and adding to the degrading state of our economy.

Our economy, I don’t even want to go there....how can we continue to pay illegal immigrants to do jobs and point to Americans and say they are just doing jobs you do not want to do. I call BULLSHIT. We just do not want to do them for barely nothing.

Nothing, that is what many of us feel each morning as we go about our daily routines, our lives. Wake up, exercise, eat, brush teeth, bathe, dress, commute, work, commute, home, eat, bed. Damn it sounds like an awful record. Music I do not want to buy into.

I love music. It is live poetry dancing in my ears. Giving my sense of hearing something to entertain itself with. Like the wind I hear blowing against my home right now. Through the empty fields, hollow.

The empty fields. I miss the corn. Silly I know, but I still miss the stalks standing outside my window. Stubborn, tall, fresh...now I get to see clouds of smoke from farmers burning the fields. I feel as though we are raping the earth.

Rape. I have been watching Sons of Anarchy Season 2, I think that is all I want to say about that. Damn Hollywood.

Time for another beer, they seem to go down quickly and quietly. How do alcoholics become alcoholics? Is it really something genetic? Are some of us more likely then others to get this disease? I am not an alcoholic. It only takes three beers and I am ready for bed. Unless of course I want to drink to get drunk. Then that is a quick adventure, usually with hard liquor.

I love the smell of whiskey. Not so much the taste but the smell. Sunflowers smell good too, lilacs. I want to plant lilacs. I cannot keep anything alive, no green thumb here...speaking of which, I need to take those dead plants outside and place the pots in the garage.

Random thoughts, this is how it will continue. One leading to another. Some lingering, some barely a flitter, not even a breath. Random, ever-growing game of round robin. No direction, this is how it is many times. I think it is healthy for me to pick a topic to write solely about, focus, direction.

No effort tonight, I am to lazy.

Lazy boys. I need a new couch.

Perhaps I that can be my reward for getting the housework finally all caught up. I am anxious for that to happen. I am still in this limbo of transition though. I know it will not happen over night. It will happen though.

Ambition, now my friend had her little girl in July and is running in a Marathon in Wichita in October. Wow, she is amazing! I wish I had that self discipline, determination, drive. I place her on my list of people I admire. I think I should send her a card and tell her that.

One of the things I am trying to do is to send random cards, e-mails, notes, texts, phone calls, anything. Everyone deserves to feel special, surprised, thought about. Best way to spread good karma is with a stamp!

Stamps, my one compulsive shopping habit.

This is a never ending cycle. I know it is not exactly post worthy, but hell, I may want to read it later! I will put an end to the typing and leave the rest in my head for now though. Perhaps tomorrow I can focus on a subject. Piece together real thoughts, sentences, logic and reason.

Marriage....

Marriage...what a joke. Let me start from the beginning of my thought process so you are able to follow my line of thinking with me.

Marriage appears to be defined for many as a union between a man and woman in the eyes of God. Biblical scripture shows that in creating mankind in his own image God made the decision to create two groups of humans, male and female. (Genesis 1:26-28). Many who align themselves with an organized religion will argue that marriage is more then a tradition. Marriage was created for specific purposes, fitting specific functions and laws. What laws? The laws of their creator, the laws governing the universe. They feel that if these laws are broken that the consequences of such will result with unhappiness and dissatisfaction of life.

"God created sexual attraction, to draw a man and a woman into a love relationship. He created marriage—a binding covenant relationship with prescribed, God-ordained roles (e.g. Genesis 2:18, 21-25; Ephesians 5:29-33; 1 Timothy 5:8), and gave laws confining the use of sex to that relationship (e.g. Exodus 20:14, 17). He intended this covenant relationship to bring stability into our lives, to teach us faithfulness and loyalty, and to give each mate the opportunity to learn to live unselfishly with another person, different from himself or herself, as a harmonious team." Why Same-Sex Marriage Will Always Be Illegal, by Joel Hilliker.

I understand that from this perspective why people would feel uncomfortable with the union of a homosexual couple. That said, I would like to point out that according to their own faith it is not their place to judge. That we all, according to their beliefs will have to face our maker on judgment day. No one is wanting to force anyone to marry a couple they do not believe should be married, but on the same token why shouldn’t these couple be allowed to be wed?

Same sex attraction has been documented long into history. We can see same sex attraction in mother nature. For that matter there is those that are asexual in nature. Does Jim and John’s marriage change the marriage I have? No, it does not.

I have had the argument pointed out to me that marriages are for family growth and reproduction. In turn I would like to point out that our world is over populated, and any capable couple who love children can raise children. These children do not have to biological, they can be adopted. Many families have adopted children, biological children, or a combination of the two.

I remember being very little and hearing my stepfather make a comment about a gay person. I asked my mom what gay meant. She said it was a person who like someone of the same sex. I asked her if she would still love me if I was gay, she said of course.

To me I learned two things with this conversation, 1)some people are scared of what they do not understand and 2)my mom would love me no matter what so it did not matter what those scared people thought of me.

As a person who is openly attracted to both sexes, I have never questioned whether or not this was a choice or instinct. If it were a choice I would have asked myself do I really feel attracted to this other woman or am I just choosing to be? Sounds silly to me. Being attracted to someone for me, is being attracted to desired qualities. Intelligence, compassion, eyes, height, body build, voice, just to name a few. One attraction alone may not be a sexual attraction, such as voice for example. However, on the same token combine that with another and it could lead to a sexual attraction.

I am a firm believer on the fact you cannot choose who you are attracted to, that is a natural feeling and your body will tell you who you are attracted to. Raised heart beat, flushed cheeks, stuttering, raised body temperature, just to name a few.

Even in the animal kingdom there are documented studies of species that have same sex pairs.

The arguements against same sex marriage all appear to boil down to the same thing-religion. I find this to be a weak argument since we are suppose to have the freedom of religion in this country. Embodded in that freedom of religion, I should have the freedom from religion. My religion, my faith, does not include a moral compass on marriage being strictly between a man and a woman. Why should my faith be put aside for your faith?

I am not really getting to a point on this subject tonight. I am just rambling now, realizing this I will finish with a simple thought.

Live and let live.

The Conflict

~Here is an old piece of poetry/writing/scribbles from 2000, the journal entry with it expressed a desire to understand faith. It also detailed my conflict with living and the consequences that would follow according to Christianity for those who lost their own battle with living. This appears to be a very raw draft, folded and not looked at again. I wanted to revise it before posting, but I did not so good luck reading it.~

Now I sit fooling you.

You think you know what I am about to do.

To bad I am not actually being, what you wish for me to be.

It's almost over now, that dead wish, close your eyes and pretend to see,

The love of life, no longer inside me.

You try to fool, but you don't last, keeping that fake laugh.

Eyes gloss over, then I know, your denial can no longer show.

Here is where I lay my head to die, here is where I begin to cry.

That desire always seems to grow,

To bad I am gone from the blow.

Maybe life will be kind, allow death to venture inside.

I doubt dear wisher of life, that you will allow such an act to sigh.

It's breath soft and cool. Such as that of a winters pool.

No longer you feel the vines upon thy neck. Only caressing of sweet gentle death.

"Maybe it is to much to ask, but thy god does not reply,

how can I," I ask thee, "begin to smile about life's uncertainty?"

You reply, "dear ignorant one, close your eyes, and then you will see the life my god has given thee."

So I close my eyes, what do I see?

Not what you promised me.

I ask thee, "how are you able to see?"

Thee replies, "I believe. You would to if you knew just what god gave you."

I take this all in stride, now I wonder, why cannot this be open to me?

So I ask, "how can you believe?"

Thee replied, "god touched me."

I no longer can hold this feeling, I want to welcome death's touch to my hand.

"If I were to jump, and feel the cutting rocks, would thy god stop and touch, this simple sinner, this lost soul, for this is what your bell appears to toll."

Then you look upon me, your eyes sadden with the thought, you no longer try to abide, you just sit and sigh.

From this point I fall from the cliff, and my dear wisher of life your dear god did not touch my side.

As I fall, I hear your voice "I pity thee, for you will now never know, the virtues even you hold."

I feel nothing when I hit, I only hear this rip.

Sounds as though someone tore the clothes they bare.

I fumble a minute and then slowly stand, moving myself upward upon my feet.

In the distance I see, a perfect light of sanity.

My journey is long, but I put forth my effort and begin my adventure for hopefully the winters pool.

Along the way I came across a young fellow, his eyes are cool, hair cleanly cut, dressed in black, and shimmer of something, something I cannot tell what.

"Come with me dear child, and I will show you the way," he speaks with confidence, absently and uncontrollably I place my hand in his.

We walk on towards the light I wanted to see, and then the fellow turned to me, "Do you believe?"

Before I could answer he disappeared and in his place a woman is there. Long silky gown, all in white.

She smiles and whispers, "Dear child your heart is true, but your soul is confused."

I look upon the ground and I realized the simmer from the man is upon my feet, a rosary.

I bend to pick it up, placing it gently in my hand, the soft warmth growing.

I looked up to find no one at my side.

I put my hand upon my face to wipe the tear rolling softly upon my cheek.

As I bring my hand back down, it is then I realized my hand was bleeding, cracked open wide.

Then it all went dark, and now I know what thy meant, to close thy eyes and to see, not only him, but what thy truly be.

Logan

As Sandra, Logan, and myself sat at the dinner table I noticed that my son eats very intensely. He looks at the food on his plate with thought grabs his choice and then shoves it into his mouth. Needless to say he was done eating before myself or Sandra.

I allowed him to get down and explore and play while Sandra and I finished our meal. Suddenly I realize there is no Logan in the dining room, kitchen, or hallway. Laughter fills my home, but the dogs are missing as well.

Sandra instantly seems to read my mind and looks panicked. Despite the laughter we hear she is fearful.

"Where is MY LOGAN?"

"He is playing, don't you hear him laugh?"

"I don't see him."

Then came the pit-pat of his footsteps down the hall. My boy is running straight past us and into the kitchen. Sandra stands up on her chair and peers over the table, I practically do the same. We hear rumble of dog food from the dish, laughter and see him running back down the hall.

I look at Sandra and she looks at me. Since her momma is not budging Sandra takes it upon herself to get down from the table and follow. She tells me she is going to sneak. Sneak she did. Hiding most of her body she peers only the top portion of her head around the corner. Just then pit-pat pit-pat back to the kitchen, rumble rumble, pit-pat pit-pat, laughter.

Sandra raises her eyebrow at me and I take the hint. Time to be mom and make sure everything is okay. I stand up and Sandra sits back down.

"Mom, you better check on him."

I want to tell her "here's your sign", obviously that is what I am doing. You must understand though that this is HER Logan. No one, I mean NO ONE, loves my boy more then his sister.

I follow Logan back to the kitchen watch him take the dog food, follow him down the hall and to the bathroom. I stand in the doorway.

Logan thrusts his hand down to the bottom of the tub, and a tongue licks it clean. No more dog food. More laughter. Logan turns, sees me smiles, points to the tub and says, "Bubba! Yum Yum!". At which point he shoots past me and I once again hear the rumble of dog food.

I sit back at the table where my daughter awaits her report. Picking up my fork, I pretend nothing is going on. Sandra does not take this as acceptable and says to me,

"Mom"

"Yes."

"What is he doing?"

"What does it look like he is doing?"

"Running and playing with dog food."

"Oh."

"Mom."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He is feeding Bubba."

"Where is Bubba."

"In the tub."

"Mom."

"Yes."

"We are not suppose to eat when we take a bath!"

This is the point I could no longer take it. I laughed hysterically. This stopped Logan and Sandra whom stared at me. Logan comes over and hands me the dog food and climbs back in the chair at the table and sits.

Without thinking I take the dog food in my hand and sit it on my plate. This of course is not acceptable.

"Mom."

"Yes."

"We don't eat dog food."

"I know, your momma is silly huh?"

"Yes you are."

She hops down and comes over to my plate. Picks up the dog food and puts it back into the dog dish.

Logan looks at us, gets down, and his game of feed Bubba begins again.

Temporary Peace

Today has been peaceful. Tomorrow...we shall see.

A day with my children has left me in a tranquil mode and I am ready to turn in for the night. My travels on the road brought me to a wonderful person whom I needed to see, scratch that, two wonderful people!

I am grateful to them for going out of their way to meet us so I could see them. You know who you are!

Tonight is not going to be a nice flow of words, no pictures painted. Just a boring note. I am here. I am surviving.

Living Through The Storm

"Black are the brooding clouds and troubled the deep waters, when the Sea of Thought first leaving from a calm gives up it's Dead." ~ Charles Dickens

Written September 16th & 17th:

Once again I have lost it. This time almost to complete madness, delirium. I have felt this event building inside me for a long time now. A storm, slowly gathering all nature's elements to release a wrath, an exasperation of emotion and despair.

In a small rowboat in the midst of domineering waves and currents battling for control of the sea, I sit without a lifejacket. As one paddle was ripped from my hands and sucked into the depths of darkness, I knew then the journey to calm waters would be demanding and vigorous.

Slowly, little by little, bit by bit, my rowboat broke into pieces, drifting away eaten by the storm. I cling onto my last paddle. Embracing for the downpour, but in denial of the condition of the vessel carrying me to placid waters. This is how I have allowed my mind, heart and spirit to live, on edge, in flight or fight mode.

Eventually, no matter how strong you are, this way of life will weaken you until bending is impossible and you break. It is now that I must decide. Will I sink or swim? Currently I am too exhausted to swim, not yet ready to sink. Bobbing with the waves in the aftermath all I can manage to do is wish and wait for a life raft to wander my way. With desperation I frantically hold onto the last remaining portion of my rowboat. The splintered paddle. Chunks of wood missing and pathetically the center of my survival, it really would not help anyone move if used.

This storm has left me in such a deplorable state that I am left almost unrecognizable. Broken, desperate, pathetic, weak and defeated. These are the words that now describe me.

Looking into the mirror at the image of what is me has never been easy. Now, however, it is a haunting staring back. Shattered pieces with jagged edges ready to pierce the skin. Sometimes its hard to see the light reflecting off of the scraps that once were me now hidden amongst the darkness.

"Unbeing dead isn't being alive." ~ E. E. Cummings

That is how I feel. Many thoughts that "sane" people find disturbing are a comfort to me. The thick substance, dark red, pooling to the surface of the skin. Slowly emerging from an opening and forming droplets that run down my arm. Not heavy, not light, noticeable and a relief.

"What the hell?" I know this is the thought that is in the forefront of your mind. Because this substance is life. A reminder my heart beats just as yours. Through my veins and arteries flows the life water, a gift from the Gods and Goddesses, from Mother Earth herself.

Does this mean I have pierced my skin to see this? Not necessarily. The thought alone brings relief and comfort. This life water should not be wasted.

Yet the thoughts are there.

This past week I was told I am different, and different scares people. I scare people. If I scare people on a normal basis, then this would terrify them.

I struggle with the thought that I "scare" anyone. Let us look at this in a logical sense.

Scare:

-Verb (used with object)

1. to fill, especially suddenly, with fear or terror; frighten; alarm

-Verb (used without object)

2. to become frightened; that horse scares easily

-noun

3. a sudden fright or alarm, especially with little or no reason

4. a time or condition of alarm or worry

Fear:

1. a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain; whether the threat is real or imaginary

2. a specific instance of or propensity for such a feeling: an abnormal fear of heights

3. concern or anxiety; solicitude; a fear for someone's safety

Terror:

1. intense, sharp, overmastering fear; to be frantic with terror

2. an instance or cause of intense fear or anxiety; quality of causing terror

No wonder I feel like a monster. These words are strong and vicious. Do I truly scare people? Install fear into them? I would hope not.

Ignorance and closed minded propensities breed fear, which in turn breeds hatred.

Perhaps logically, I do scare people. Let us look at the adjectives used to describe me, many I use myself as well as others.

Eccentric:

-deviating from the recognized or customary character, practice; irregular; erratic; peculiar; odd

Peculiar:

1. strange; queer; odd

2. uncommon; unusual

Different

1. not alike in character or quality

2. not identical; separate or distinct

3. various; several

4. not ordinary; unusual

If then I do fulfill these three definitions, I could theoretically scare people. People are afraid or fearful of different ideologies and lifestyles they do not or refuse to understand. This ignorance thus leads to fear which in turn leads to hate.

Now I feel both validated as a monster, and saddened by the unwillingness of people to educate themselves and broaden their knowledge.

"She likes herself, yet others hates, for that which in herself she prizes, and while she laughs at them, forgets she is the thing that she despises." ~William Congreve

I have not been left alone for any length of time since my meltdown. This I have welcomed. Currently I am not strong enough to be alone in my muddled mind. Alone and lost in the sea.

I have done nothing these two days but watch the world slip by. Feeling the warmth of Chico laying upon my feet or against my legs. In the semi I ride. Wasting time. Trying not to think, pushing thoughts of responsibilities I am far behind on to the bottom of my mind. To the depths of darkness resting on the floor of the ocean with my first paddle.

As I sit, I see people in their vehicles. I wonder if they truly feel, live, or if they just go through the routine tasks of everyday life. On autopilot. Sometimes I wish I could live on autopilot.

Through the window I see trees, hills, amazing cemeteries, livestock and fields zoom past. A calming and disconnecting sight. I can only imagine how each of these items smell, sound, and feel under my skin. My previous experiences can form assumptions on these items. That takes more energy then I currently have.

On our way back from Seneca, Nathan stopped at the Precious Moments Chapel. Offering a gift of peace and serenity. The tranquility of the garden, statues, and paintings offered a moment of assurance.

We shall see what my attempt of photography resulted in once I am reunited with the dwelling I call home.

Looking at him I am filled with guilt. Here in the middle of my storm, he is desperately trying to keep our family, our marriage, his wife alive. I have very little strength to help. This is what overwhelms me in guilt. My muddled mind and the actions that result from such.

"I have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. But these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really." ~Tennessee Williams

Murky Water

I was going to try and type something tonight, anything. I just cannot. It just will not quiet down long enough to become blank.

Perhaps tomorrow......

At The End Of My Rope

This was a question given to me by someone very dear to my heart. I hope that this person will not be hurt by me sharing my answer. Here is my reply.

"What do you do/think to help yourself when you feel like you aren't going to make it?"

My first question is, what exactly do you mean by when I feel like I am not going to make it? If it is reference of not going to succeed or be successful, then I try to think about all the other things I have accomplished, I write down a list of what I want to improve on or the baby steps~the little things, that I can do to make sure I am meeting some sort of goals to achieve my higher goal. This may make my time frame extend out much longer then I care for it to, but at least I can mark things off physically on a list for me to see, a true progress report that helps.

If it is in reference to surving life and continuing on, keeping myself from becoming a shell, dead inside just moving through the motions of routine, that depends.

I try to analyze, (yes I know I over analyze), what it is that has triggered my onset. This is a horrific task as I tend to not know or can not pin point one exact thing. I still try. I write down everything it is that seems to be upsetting me, and if that list is blank then I write down excatly how I am feeling...I do not allow numb to be the only answer.

For instance this week has indeed been a struggle, hard to go on, to move forward to be "alive", whatever the hell that means anyways. Why? At first thought I have no freaking idea. So this is what I know: 1) I am exhausted -physically and emotionally; 2) I am sad; 3) I feel like a failure; 4) I am overwhelmed.

I sit and stare at this and think why/what has led me to these?

1) Exhaustion – trying to do too much perhaps? Not enough? Thinking to much? Not thinking enough? Guilt? Perhaps the other three things led to this, perhaps I am getting ill, perhaps I am not truly exhausted

2) Sad – why? (blank)

3) Failure – I am behind at work, my house is a mess, I don’t get the time I want with my kids, I cannot cook, I am going no where in life, no accomplishments to show for, am I what I wanted to be, what did I want to be, what do I want to be, who am I now, how do I come across to people, who do I confide in, are they able to confide in me, have I forgotten anyone…

4) Overwhelmed – My house is way behind, I am way behind in my job, I am way behind on the truck stuff, I am barely keeping up with my kids, I give and give and give, do I have anything left to give, have I begun to take to much, what can I do, where do I start, I just want to cry…………

Honestly that is as far as I am right now with all of this. I think one feeds off the other and I think there are many more emotions that fit into one or more categories.

What is good with my life, what makes me smile:

1) My children ~ I love doing crafts with them, love the messy house afterwards that shows children are played with here. Like when we painted and Logan realized he was dirty, got off the chair and walked to the bathroom, little blue and purple painted footprints led all the way to the bathroom. I almost didn’t shampoo my carpet, it was beautiful.

a. When I don’t have them or they are asleep, I take pictures, I draw with charcoal, I have started a sanity book.

b. I have pet projects, throwing Thomas’s best friend’s lady a baby shower, I am going all out and out on it. LOVE IT!

2) My dogs ~ They love me no matter who I am or what I do, they just want attention and caring for something else is rewarding.

3) The corn. ~ Yes, I know that may be silly, but I love the corn. I love walking through it feeling the leaves and stalks scrape up against me, the bugs, the smell, it all reminds me that I am connected to something bigger then myself, to mother earth and she loves us all, all creations that have sprung from her very bosom. It shows she will nourish us, provide for us, we just need to work for it. It also makes me think of grandpa, and the farm, the tranquility I have when I walk around his yard, the junk in front of me showing a long life well lived. Fully lived.

4) Writing. ~ I have begun to write again and it helps. Sometimes its my public blog that picks just one tiny molecule of a thought from my swirling muddled mind and throwing it out there. Sometimes it is an intimate email to one of my two confidants that I trust with all I am, they never judge. Or it is a conversation with my Buddha, Jason Hoch. He helps me break it all down, not good not bad, just as is. Then view it from there. A reminder that we all have actions, consequences, and weaknesses, it is recognizing those and working through those without any prejudiced or judgmental thoughts from others and more importantly from ourselves that allow us to become more self aware, realize truly who we are.

When I have no strength, determination or will to do this analyzing and processing, or the things that relieve me of stress, that is when I do things that I probably shouldn't. If Nathan is home I have been drinking. Not a lot, just one beer or one mixed drink, it helps me sleep. I see my counselor once a week, this week I just sat there and cried, barely able to communicate anything. Other times I have a lot to say and it is productive. He listens and points out the other side of things, gives me suggestions on how to better handle situations, and when needed brings me back to "reality". He also helps validate my emotions, agreeing with the why's at times that I might feel or respond to something the way I do, validation is amazing. He is by far one of the better counselors I have ever had. I see a med doctor once every two weeks to once every 3 months depending on what we are doing with my meds and what my emotional state is in. I also read, currently I am working through 7 self help books. I suggest you picking up from the library, "The Cow in the Parking Lot, A Zen Approach to Overcoming Anger.". Even if you do not have anger issues, the whole process it goes through works in my opinion with a lot of emotions and just the day to day living. I am also reading Emotional Awareness A conversation between the Dalai Lama and Paul Ekman. I have also purchased David Foster Wallace, "This is Water". A copy of a commencement speech he gave. It is small, short, and fits anywhere. I carry it with me in my purse/bag/glove box, and pull it out and read it all the time. It helps me get through these really rough times. I have fallen in love with this author. He understands what it is like to be overwhelmed in thought, life, depression. He committed suicide.

I exercise. I get out the wii fit plus and play on it. I run if I can, assuming Nathan is home to stay with the kids. I love getting to the point of pain while running, where your chest is so hot it feels like ice, like you are about to break, unable to breathe. Once you push just past this point of pain, it is an amazing exhilaration of freedom and relief.

I go to the cemetery. I have always loved them, the comfortableness, calmness, isolation. No one to empress, just walking from graveside to graveside. Talking to each one that I feel I must. Remembering and consulting the dead. It doesn't matter if I know them or not, it does not matter if they can hear me or not. I love the way I can relax, be alone in thought but not overwhelmed.

I write my obituary.

Sometimes I have to just be depressed and numb, sometimes you just have to feel that way.

That is what I wrote, but I want to add a few additional thoughts.

Tonight my mind is so full, I just want to shut it off so I can sleep and be ready for work tomorrow, prepared to leave my children. I can't turn it off. I feel these thoughts are probably natural, it is how we handle them that makes the difference.

If my sharing this publicly or privately helps one person to feel less alone, then I am not ashamed to share them.

"You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice . Every minute is a choice. to be or not to be." ~Chuck Palahniuk

My Own Trip South....

In my own desperate, frantic, and vehement attempt to discover who exactly I am, and to regain control of my life, my actions, my emotions, my household, and reconnect with the basic building blocks of my marriage, I have begun to read again.

I have always researched, devouring any and all information I can get my hands on for almost every aspect of my life. Everything from the decision of my first piercing to pregnancy to spiritual understanding. So it was just an obvious and instinctive action when I realized, and admitted I was hitting rock bottom, to make a journey to the library.

I made this journey almost three weeks ago. I love walking into a library, the calm, orderly way everything is presented. The smell of paper, and even the stale, musty almost stagnant aroma that many libraries have, is refreshing. The first thing I always do when entering a library to check out books is to run my fingers across the spines of the section I am looking at. To feel the textures tingling my finger tips, some smooth with the plastic coating, others rough with an older harder cover, then there are the soft paperback books that almost escape the touch altogether, being lost amongst the larger books.

This awakens so much in me. All that knowledge stored in one place, the vocabulary waiting to be discovered, the many worlds waiting to be explored. It takes my breath away, all the decisions, the options available. Some views of mountains or oceans leave people breathless and without the ability to describe how they feel; this is what happens to me when I check out a library book.

I left there that day with many books, some on anger such as "The Cow In The Parking Lot"; some focusing on emotion and meditation, "Emotional Awareness a Conversation between the Dalai Lama and Paul Ekman,". One book was "If Mama Goes South, We're All Going With Her" by Lindsey O'Connor.

This is a Christian viewpoint on family life and the growth of women.

As I write this, I am in the semi with the kids and Nathan. It is Saturday, September 4th. We are on our way to Dalhart, Texas with a tanker of milk. So I am reading and handwriting this to type later.

Why do I mention this? As I mention the current actions of my children, and to understand the mind frame I am in. I wanted you to know I am emersed with my family in a small space, with many interruptions. A small, safe haven resort from the majority of my demanding responsibilities and intrusions of the outside world.

Now back to my centered thought I wish to express tonight.

"When Douglas Teri and his colleagues conducted a study of fifty mother and baby pairs and fifty-four mother preschool pairs, they found high rates of insecure attachment among the children of depressed mothers. Eighty percent of the babies and eighty-seven percent of the preschoolers were insecurely attached when their mothers suffered from depression." page 23.

I know this information, have studied such writings from similar research, even witnessed it. Why then do I feel a stab of nausea overcoming me? Sometimes we need to see in black and white what we already know in order to connect it with what is happening here and now with our own life, our family, our mind.

Logan alone does not want anyone touching his mama. Nathan, sis, the dogs, no one in no shape or form of any physical connection. Even here in the semi he is in the car-seat in the front with dad and Sandra with me on the bed in the back; he is crying. He wants his mama, crying reaching, needing me. He will eventual quit and enjoy the ride, but if he hears my voice or sees me, it starts over.

Then there is Sandra, she wants to sleep with me at night, sit on my lap as I type, hold my hand as we eat, sit in the tub as I shower.

They feel mama has gotten to a low desolate point. This takes away their security, they do not want me to leave them alone, nor journey my path of self destruction or rediscovery alone.

I too remember doing this with my own mother, with repeated mom, mom, mom. She responding with "what", I then responding with "nothing". I always said it was my way of knowing she knew I was there, and I knowing she was beside me. Research says I am right.

As I read about a mother's role to educate every step of the way, in all we can to help shape and point our own children in the right direction, I feel validated. This has always been the driving force behind all my decisions with my children and who I hope they will be as a person when they leave my arms for the real world.

I only hope that these babies of mine, will be educated, resourceful, accepting, and open minded. I believe ignorance leads to hate. I want my children to accept the fact this world is made up with many faiths, cultures, and lifestyles. While they may not agree with these numerous differences, I hope they will be educated enough to understand and accept them, no to become bigots, closed minded, and hateful.

I want them to love themselves and believe in who they are and remember their mom as a person of love and encouragement. I want to show them all the paths available for them to journey on, and the tools and skills to do so; that way they are not to fearful to take the path THEY choose to take.

My heart is filled with warmth as I look at my daughter sleeping. I am going to put my pen down and crawl next to her. Perhaps we can share a slumber with the sandman together.

So, I am back to reading, finally. A long nap, some frustrating no's, and dinner in our belly. I am exhausted. Between my children, my urinary tract infection, and Nathan's frustrations, I am just exhausted, blank.

"There's a reason to grow besides just for our personal benefit-it's the idea of growing to give, of living for something, someone, besides ourselves and for someday besides the here and now."

O'Connor goes on about living for God doing his will, and so on. While this later part speaks to many, and I understand what the author is saying, and how many relate to it, I catalog it for reference, but that is all. My focus is on the giving, the living for something, someone else. I agree, we all need to be kind, giving, and loving; however, right now I have nothing left to give. I need to be me, discover who that is, love me, truly love me. I am not sure I ever have loved me. Once this is accomplished, I can give, love, and be the person those around me can rely on, be proud of, love. I know my mother is proud of me, all mothers are of their children. I want to be sound in mind so she can be proud of how she raised me, even though she should already be proud of that.

I have given so much of me, and neglected to nourish my intellectual, spiritual, and emotional being along the way. I just hope that I have not, nor will become to selfish in trying to regain my self perspective.

The author goes into a lengthy explanation about receiving God's grace. I know this is the route many take, and it works for them. They feel that instinctive, undeniable, and unquestioned idea of God, the bible and all that goes with it. I do not. I need more proof then a book written by "men through God", yet I understand it and admire those who have that fire within them to live and believe in that. It amazes me, their faith amazes me.

I do however have a spiritual connection of my own, mainly with nature. I have begun to take more time with her, bask in the life she provides. I will take what the author has said to heart and apply it to my own belief system. In what little I have done this already, I know it helps clear my mind, to feel enriched.

As I go on my journey through the desert, seeking for water and crops, I will remember I am not alone, I have to make it through. If for anything, and the most important reason, for the sake of my children. I must be here in order for them to be the people I hope they will be.

"When you become a mother, you stop being the picture and you become the frame," ~Army Wives, Season 1.