That Firey Pit of Hell

“You are free to choose, but you are not free from the consequences of your choice ~ Unknown

I am a widow by suicide. My husband, Pete took his life the night of 05/02/09. I found him the next morning. He had been dead at least twelve hours. It was not a pretty sight. He hung himself from the back of my bedroom door. When I found him he was in full rigor and his face was completely blue. I will never forget that morning mostly because when I’m really stressed I have flashbacks to that day. I can vividly recall the ambient temperature of the house, the smell of his dead body, the color of his face and the rope wrapped tightly around his neck.

We had been fighting the day he did it. In the morning we had gone around to the utility companies switching them into his name from mine. We were preparing for life apart. You see, I had left him after one too many murder/suicide threats. At the time I was living at my mom and dad’s townhouse. I had moved out after Pete had made a threat to me in front of my mother’s son. He dragged me out of the house after Pete had passed out. Pete was a mess after I left and fully convinced that I had someone else. He told everyone that I was cheating on him. That was not the case. However, everyone believed him despite the fact that he had a girlfriend that he was parading around in public. After his death someone actually had the nerve to ask me what I was going to do about Sandy, his girlfriend, because she was so upset. Taking care of her was not my responsibility. I could barely take care of myself and I had virtually no one. I used to have a ton of friends. Only a couple of them gave me the time of day afterwards. I guess it takes something like this to get people to show their true colors. Almost everyone blamed me for his death. I didn’t do it; it was his choice to take his life. I understand that he was just dying to be free from a lifetime of pain. He choose to end his own life. He made that choice. I and his family and friends had to live with the consequences.

I tried to get him help. I set him up with a counselor and a psychiatrist. They put him on a bunch of medication and told him he needed to work on his drinking problem. His drinking was a big thing that tore us apart. You see, he was never home. He was never there for me. I had to go to the bar to spend any time with him. He was a drinker and a social butterfly. He did not drink at home. He was a social drinker, everyday. After work he would go to the bar and I would call him around nine o’clock every night to remind him that it was late and he had to work in the morning. He would always say,“I’ll just finish this beer and then I’ll be right home.” That was my cue to go to bed; he wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours. I barely saw him unless I went to the bar. Not exactly a healthy relationship.

In fact, it was very unhealthy. It was abusive and isolating. He had me convinced that someone was going to abduct me so I went only to work and the grocery store and of course the bar. He had me afraid to leave the house. He had such a fear of losing me that he had scared me into not leaving the house. He would often go out without me. I later found out that he had cheated on me many times. So, he was a cheater and beater. It took me a couple of years of therapy to get my head straight and convince myself that nobody was going to kidnap me from the grocery store parking lot and to deprogram my abused self. I had been with him for so many years that I was convinced that I deserved it all.

That’s not to say that Pete wasn’t a good guy. He was handsome and funny and everybody loved him. He never met a stranger. He was the life of the party. He could be so much fun until we got back home again. Then it would start the belittling, the bickering and inevitably the physical fight. I didn’t stand much of a chance he was a full foot taller than me and out weighed my by a good eighty pounds. I had little or no defense. One time he fractured my skull by banging it on the tile floor. It had not always been this way. He became physically abusive after we moved to Florida. I left him to save my own life; either he or I was going to take it. I admit that most of the time I was suicidal too. I was seeing a counselor and doctor for my own mental illness but, no amount of medicine can cure situational depression. I had to choose to stay alive. I choose to stay alive because of what my death would do to my parents and friends. When you commit suicide the collateral damage leaves a pretty wide debris path. You are left wondering why and what could I have done differently. In Pete’s case, I should have just called the cops or his counselor and had him committed but, I’m pretty sure he would have eventually done it sooner or later. This wasn’t our first time at this rodeo.

So, at the age of 39 I became a widow. At the age of 40 I learned to live again. It took a lot of teaching on my counselor’s part. I will always be in debt to Laura, my therapist. She carried me through my grief. She helped me find my voice again. She helped me not be afraid. She helped me to find myself. She taught me how to stop blaming myself and to love myself again. It was a difficult journey; one that I walked virtually alone. I hate to say that I am better for the experience but in some ways I am. They say you never know how strong you are until being strong is all you have left. I am a total bad ass.

If you or someone you know is thinking of harming themselves please get them help. Call 211 for local resources or call the national suicide hotline at 1-800-273-TALK.

Vitamins for My Thoughts

About 8 years ago I wad diagnosed as being Bipolar. This was hard for me to swallow but, it made sense. Finally there was a reason behind my radical moods. I embraced treatment and set about to live as normal a life as possible. The problem with brain chemistry is that some times it changes and the meds just don’t work anymore. That’s when things get out of control and more than once I have ended up in the nut house. I have been on almost every antidepressant out there and many different mood stabilizers. I finally have a good mix and am proud to say that I have been on an even keel since January.

Bipolar is not just an illness, it defines who I am. I have chosen to accept it for what it is. I will always be on medicine. The medicine I can accept as just vitamins for my thoughts. I’m lucky in that I don’t experience too many side effects from the meds. And, I have a great doctor who is phenomenal at what he does. I also have a wonderful partner in Mike. He is totally in tune to what is going on with me and does not hesitate to call Dr. V when I get squirrelly. I’m lucky that I have him. This illness can be very isolating. Mike does crazy very well. Of course, I try my damnedest to stay on level ground; not just for me, but for him.

 
I’m not sure if I would trade my broken brain for a normal one. I think that would be boring. I like to feel extremes sometimes, but only if I can keep these feelings in check. I don’t self medicate anymore and sometimes that is hard, but I have learned that alcohol is not always my friend. Alcohol puts me in a mixed state. That’s where I am both manic and depressed. It manifests itself as anger and self loathing. Not a good combination. It’s best to avoid it all together. Mixed moods are scary and that’s what usually lands me in the hospital. So, I have learned to live my life free from alcohol. It helped me quit smoking too. I used to chain smoke when I drank. I’ve been free from smokes for 130 days. I’m pretty proud of myself. I was afraid at first because I was removing chemicals from my brain and I wasn’t sure how it was going to react. I was nervous for no reason. My brain adjusted just fine. It did help that when I quit drinking I was going to therapy for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (a by product of Pete’s suicide). My therapy consisted of deep hypnosis that calmed my anxiety and helped calm my mind and free me from flashbacks. It helped me to remain calm while quitting cigs. I will be forever grateful for my therapist, a young graduate student at Florida Tech. She is amazing at what she does and I believe she will be highly successful in her endeavors. She made me a CD of a hypnosis session so that I can listen to it anytime I feel the need. It has come in handy as I can no longer afford therapy. Being bipolar is expensive. My meds cost me about $250 or more a month and doctor’s appointments cost $75. Now that I don’t have insurance or a steady paycheck this can be difficult, but I know that I always have to find money for my meds. They are what helps keep me alive; that and Mike’s love.

Mistress Claire and her Kindle

“We are not given a good life or a bad life. We are given a life. It’s up to us to make it good or bad.” ~ Ward Foley

My life is pretty good right now. It could be better, but it has been a lot worse. Life with Mike is great. I’ve never been so happy even in our current financial situation. I’m hoping to remedy that soon. I’m praying that I get called for the job that I went on the pre-interview for. If I don’t it’s because I am over qualified and they think I won’t stay long with the company. Not the case. I’m very loyal. So I’ll toss out some prayers and hope for the best. That’s all I can do, right?

I’ve been reading a lot lately. I mean a shitload. I have been consuming at least one novel a day for the last week or so. This is a good thing because it exercises my brain. It is a bad thing because I get sucked into other worlds and don’t want to come out. This makes me appear anti-social. Thankfully, Mike has had a cold so he hasn’t noticed, but I can feel it. I don’t want to interact with anyone. I just want to read. I’m addicted. Good thing I have a free source for material. It gives me a myriad of worlds to choose from. I like that I can curl up with my Kindle and just escape. The trouble is taking phone calls. I don’t really want to talk; so, I’m kind of sucking at my job lately. Not that the guys mind. I think that they like that I have a certain edge to me. Really I’m just pissed that my reading was interrupted. But, a ringing phone means I’m earning so I have to get it together and make my clients happy.

I’ve had some pretty bizarre calls lately. It seems that many straight men are really into other guys and they don’t think they are gay or bisexual. I don’t understand the concept. You’re bi, gay or straight. There are no grey areas there. However, guys that insist that they are straight keep calling and wanting to talk about their experiences with other guys. A couple of these dudes go to the dirty book store and go into the back rooms to service other men. I don’t think they are making this shit up. It fascinates me how they think nothing of taking on a group of total strangers. Not only is it icky, it is not safe. They do not use condoms. I wonder just how much of this is going on in the world. How could you not use caution? It worries me. Well, not really. I mean my guy certainly is not doing that so I have no fear of catching something. Mike can’t grasp the concept either. He’s all like, “Bullshit the guy is not straight. I don’t care if he is married.” I agree, but I have to play along. I have discussed the psychology of this with some guys and they just insist that they love women and that there is nothing at all wrong in what they are doing. I don’t know what to make of it other than to say that it is a lucrative business. I have one character that is devoted solely to that type of subject matter. That being sissy boys or boys that like boys. They are entertaining to say the least and they are all really nice guys. They love Mistress Claire (me) and only share their secrets with her. At least that’s what they tell me. I don’t care as long as the phone keeps ringing.

The Blues, Prayer and Domination

Sometimes it is really difficult to remain positive. Today is one of those days where it is hard not to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head. I’m feeling kind of hopeless today. I really need a job. I need to do something with my life that produces income. The job I went to on Friday was not at all what I thought it was going to be and it is not something that will produce a steady income for some time. It just wasn’t the right fit for me. Perhaps if it produced a steady paycheck it would be something I would do, but it was commission based and dependent upon finding businesses to hire temps. It is all cold calling. I need something with a little more of a guarantee. So, I’m back to square one again.

I wrote the above paragraph early yesterday morning. I was feeling pretty down and discouraged as you can see. The afternoon was an improvement. I went to a pre-interview for a job that I am highly over qualified for, but that I hope I get. It doesn’t pay much, however it is more than I’m making right now. I say a pre-interview because one of the employees was tasked with going through resumes and calling people in to see if they would be a good fit and then passing on the resumes to the owners of the company. I was told that actual interviews will be conducted on Friday. I may or may not be contacted on Thursday for an interview on Friday. He basically said, “If they don’t call, well you get the drift.” So, we’ll see if they call. I am hopeful.

I signed out of my “customer service” job to run to the pre-interview and upon my return back home I signed in again and I had my best money day ever. Like I said before, there are a lot of freaks out there. The ick factor was pretty high, but I can play that game. It’s just acting after all. I love when rich, drunk guys call. They spend a lot of money and they are fun to fuck with. One guy in particular wanted an older dominant woman. Piece of cake. I talked to him for two hours. I love dom work because you can be all bossy and bitchy and the guys love it. I love being in control and dom work allows you to get a little aggression out because you are expected to be a no nonsense kind of girl and nicely tell your sub what a piece of shit he is. Fun, fun. It’s easy money. I was also asked by the owner if I would train as a backup dispatcher, routing calls to other girls. I said I’d do it because it sounds easy and pretty lucrative. You still get paid a set amount for each call, but the volume is good.

So, after my pity party yesterday morning I kind of feel like an ass because things are looking up. I guess prayer really do work.

Please say a little prayer for me.

So, I start my new job tomorrow. I have training at 2. I will be a recruiter for a staffing agency. My only issue with the job is that it pays on a commission basis only. That scares me a little bit however; the company has been in business a long time and has a great reputation. They sound excited to have me on board and I’m excited to start a new career with a good company. Finally, the day has come, I have a job! It has been a while and it hasn’t been easy but you know what they say, when you are just about at the point of giving up push a little harder that’s when miracles happen. Please say a little prayer for me. Thank you in advance.

Yay, me!

“Blaming is so much easier than taking responsibility, because if you take responsibility…then you might be to blame.”

I just started the first chapter of the book “The Pursuit of Happiness: 21 Spiritual Rules for Success”. The chapter is titled, “Understanding You are a Reflection of Your Choices” I’ve been choosing to be sad lately. I just figured that out. I’m not clinically depressed, I’m situationally depressed. I’m just not digging life right now. I’m trying, but it’s not working out very well. I need to just take a few deep breaths and let go of the bullshit. It isn’t so bad. Life is now peaceful because I choose peace. I choose love. I choose happiness. I need to commit a little more to my effort. I guess I haven’t been very kind to myself in the last few weeks. Haunted by old ghosts. Not my favorite sport. So, this morning while I was mowing the lawns I came to the realization, I am choosing to make this harder than it is. I’ve been putting a lot of effort into that lately and blaming it on something else. That something else is trivial and I’ve been through it at least 43 times you would think I would know better than to latch on to that train. I started to jump on  then abruptly stopped; dead in the middle of it. I thought to myself, “You know what? I don’t have to have this conversation.” At least, I think I thought it. I may have said it out loud. In any event, I choose at that moment to break another habit. I figure if I can stay quit smoking then I can quit all the bad things in my life. I consciously walked away. I’d like to say I bowed out gracefully however, that is not the case. I just hung up the damn phone mid sentence. I choose not to have that same argument ever again. I took responsibility for my feelings; something I have not been doing lately. I need to stop the negative talk and be my own biggest cheerleader. I can do this. I have been through much worst than this and came out better on the other side for surviving it all. Again, a choice. So fuck all that shit! Let’s have some fun. Love is what it’s all about and I have an abundance of that. Yay, me!

On a brighter note, I think I have a job.

There is one thing that I do over and over again. It has been a theme throughout my life. It is a pattern that I can’t seem to break. It is a behavior that gets me burned time and again. It happens every few years and just reinforces behavior that has been a staple for my entire life. It is not healthy behavior. It is very damaging to me. So I have decided to end it once and for all. I will no longer fall victim to the trap. I will simply walk away from one single person and I will not have to deal with this heartbreak anymore. I can’t go into details as it will hurt someone that I don’t want to hurt. Walking away should be enough.

 

I Got My Dog Because I Drank Too Much Beer

My dog is stupid. He is a year and a half old and I think he’s ADHD. He is relentless in his pursuit of affection. He loves nothing more than to get pet. He drives me nuts. He is a total terror of a puppy and he’s an eating machine. That dog loves food. He knows he isn’t going to get any but he will try his hardest even going so far as to try to snatch things. He is a bad boy. I must be going about it wrong because he refuses to learn. He jumps. He barks. He tries to steal food. He is just a menace. I have tried everything from time outs to knock outs and everywhere in between. Will he grow out of it and if so, when?

 

He reminds me of my last dog. He was a beautiful all white male pit. His name was Diesel. He was a great dog. He was quirky though. I rescued him from the pound. They suspect he had been a fight dog. He was the biggest love bug. He was so non-confrontational. He just grooved, until it thundered. That’s when he would go berserk. Oddly enough he would break out of the house and go running around terrified in the storm. I never could get his logic there. Stay in the nice safe house or go run around in your worst nightmare. He would always run. He broke out of the screen porch many times.  Mike even put plastic lattice up on the inside at dog level so that he couldn’t jump out of the screen. Diesel ate the damn lattice. He destroyed one of the screens in my front window on a stormy day by jumping out of it. He was also an attention hog. He loved a good belly rub. He loved to have his little ears scratched. And, he gave lots of kisses. It was tough to put the old boy down but he had dementia and it was causing him a great deal of anxiety. I know what it is like to live with debilitation anxiety so I could sympathize with my sweet boy. So, at the age of 13 I put him down. It broke my heart. I swore I would never get another dog.

 

Fast forward a year and I’m on a business trip in California. I was staying at a Homewood Suite and they have free beer from 5 to 7 every night. I got lit up pretty good and went back to my room and got on the computer and found this dog that I absolutely had to save. He was going to be put down in the morning unless the rescue society could find him an owner. He was only 6 months old. I couldn’t let him be put down so I adopted a dog sight unseen. I get a little manicy when I drink and tend to act on impulse. (Another good reason why Wendy should not drink beer.) The next day I flew home and went to meet the dog. I fell madly in love. He was so sweet! He was gentle and loving; everything you would want in a dog. He was also and Academy Award Nominated Actor. I got the dog home and thought this is going to be great. He was so mellow. He just kind of hung out. He was also on pain killers because he had just had his nuts lopped off. When he ran out of meds he started to show his true colors. He is a fucking maniac. He is so far from the dog I met at the pound. Don’t get me wrong, he does spend a lot of time just chilling but as soon as you make eye contact with him it’s game on. This dog, like his predecessor, likes to jump through screens. He jumps in instead of out. He jumps over the lattice and through the screen. That means he has to jump about 4 foot off of the ground to clear the lattice. He has destroyed on corner of my screen porch. He’s always breaking in. Mike insisted that we name him Diesel because I some how had found the reincarnation of my old dog. That is a fact. They are the same dog. How do I do it?

I could have my own line of homeless people apparel.

What a difference a day makes. I’m seeing with better clarity than I have in a long time. I feel more grounded today. It is a good feeling. I feel like I can get stuff done. I talked to my mom and dad this morning. That almost always cheers me. The rents are doing fine. They are freezing their asses off in 55 degree weather and rain. I sort of feel bad for them but, it is hot as hell here and muggy. I need to get outside more in the morning when it is only about 80. I think I will weed my gardens tomorrow. The sunlight will do me good. I need more vitamin D and my garden is full of grass. I haven’t even planted anything this year. It’s so hot now I don’t know what I can plant. I’m going to container grow a tomato plant. It will love life in the light of our porch. It will also give me something to do. I need projects and hobbies. I want to paint the living room walls. I want to garden. I want to learn how to crochet. I want to make blankets for the homeless. I now the last thing they need right now is a blanket but by the time I finish one it will be winter. Then I could do hats and scarves too. I could have my own line of homeless people apparel. It would be fun to see them in my hats with matching scarves and mittens. I’m not trying to make fun of the homeless. I feel bad for them. I want to do something for them. As luck would have it my step daughter gave me a book called, “Learn to Crochet in Just One Day”. It sounds fun. I think I’ll have to head to the craft store tonight to pick up some supplies.

"Your mother already said I could have you."

Yesterday was a stellar customer service day; today, not so much. Trying to go with the ebb and flow that is my life. I wish I could achieve some sort of balance in at least one aspect of my life. Well, actually there is one constant in my life and that is Mike. He is always on an even keel. He is the most understanding person I have ever met. When I asked him how he got to be so calm he said, “One day I just woke up and stopped wanting to kill people.” He achieved inner peace. I strive for that. I am for the most part at peace with myself. I’m not angry; just a little sad. It’s situational. I need to find a real job. I must have applied to 20 this morning. I’m hoping for something. I would even take the Starbucks barista job at Barnes and Noble. At least that way I would have human contact. Not that I really like people. I don’t. I just feel so isolated lately. I think that is fueling my depression. I’m alone most of the time. Most of my activities are solitary in nature. I read a lot. I play on the computer a lot. I have a serious Pinterest addiction.

I’m not sure how I got into Pinterest but, I’m glad I found it. It gives me something to do at night while Mike is watching TV. I don’t really get into TV that much. I never really have. I have always preferred books. Now I have Pinterest. I Pin on my Kindle Fire. I got it for free from the cable company and I don’t know how I ever lived without it. So, I sit on the couch, cuddled up to Mike, and Pin for hours. I have about 70 boards. They run the gambit of topics. I pin everything from architecture to tattoos. My tattoo board has over 170 followers. It’s actually quite amazing. I have one board called “How I feel about Mike” that has close to 100 followers. Why would something that personal attract that much attention? I think it is because it is all about love. I look through it everyday and reflect on how much I love Mike. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I really dig Mike. He is my entire universe. He saved my life. If I hadn’t met him I would probably be dead by my own hands. He is my North Star. He is that single constant shining light in my life. It’s funny how we met. He’s not even my type. Let me rephrase that, he wasn’t my type. Now he is. Now he is the only one for me. Back to how we met. I was with my mother and her son in a bar. We were having drinks and a good time when Mike walked over and sat down beside me. I didn’t pay him any attention. So he says to me, “We’re going for a ride.” I said, “That’s nice. I hope you have fun.” He said, “No. I mean you and I are going for a ride. Your mother already said I could have you.” Damn! Get up to use the restroom and look what happens I score a man. Feeling a bit adventurous and just a little manic (which means I could give two shits what happens to me) I went with him. I never intended it to be more than just a wild fling. I was not going to fall in love with him. I hadn’t even been widowed a year yet. I didn’t even know what a healthy relationship was. But, alas, I had found the love of my life and didn’t even know it yet. It wasn’t all hearts and flowers as we struggled with our personal demons. We had some pretty rough patches in the beginning. You know, years of being lied to and fucked over had made me quite cynical. It was when we began trusting each other that it all came together. I have never put this much faith and trust in any one person. I 100% trust him with my heart and my life. I have a love that people only dream about finding. I’m a very lucky girl. I do not take him at all for granted as I know that his love has pulled me out of the abyss many times. Sometimes my only reason for waking up is so that I won’t break his heart. I love him so and never want him to feel pain. So I keep my shit together for the most part. When others would crumble Mike's love is the glue that holds me together.

Toppled by the Wave

I fought it as hard as could, but it over took me. That tide of depression just enveloped me leaving me gasping for breath. I knew this was coming. Too much has built up over the last few months. So, I took to bed and buried my brain in a book. I hate the feeling of not wanting to be. Depression is a lonely place. It scares me. It’s dark and brings about self loathing. Mike fixed me or at least distracted me. He is so patient and loving. He coaxed me out of bed and just sat and held my hand. He has a magic touch. I love him so.

I’m feeling a bit better today. I still don’t feel like doing anything but reading however, I must find a job. Perhaps a new customer service company is what I need for now. The one I currently work for doesn’t seem to be panning out for me. No calls = no money. So, I will start to look for other work. I’m still trying to pin down a date when I can retake my state insurance exam and start a real job. The girl who schedules the test can’t seem to understand what I am asking of her. I will be kind and persistent. It is the only lead I have on a normal job. I need a normal job because I need insurance. I tried getting it through the state, but they told me I would have to be disabled to qualify. At this point opting for disability is beginning to sound like a good option. I know it will take a while to qualify and that I may need to get a lawyer involved, but I do have a good case for it. I don’t really want to go that route. I want to work. I just can’t seem to find a job. I even got turned down for a cashier job at Lowe’s. How can I not be qualified for that? I have a fucking bachelor’s degree. A lot of good that does me. It is a seemingly worthless document that I am still paying for. Oh wait, no I’m not. I can’t afford the payment. I had to ask for a forbearance on my student loan.  Lack of a job is making me feel worthless. At least when I was getting calls I was making money. I should have never switched companies. I let the promise of more money lure me away from a sure thing. I guess I got greedy and it bit me in the ass. Live and learn.

Paperwork and Beer

So, the whole pharmacy thing was a bust. I got to Walgreen’s only to find out that the person who talked to Mike made a mistake and that the savings would be $152 off of 600 plus dollars for one prescription. Holy shit! I did much better scoring a generic brand for $242 a month. That is still a lot of money that I don’t have, but I had to pay for it. My brain needs it. The people that work at Walgreens gave Mike a number for me to call the drug manufacturer to inquire about any programs they have to help me. The telephone number directed me to a web site where I had to complete, print out, and mail a form to Pfizer to participate in one of their low cost script programs. Then this morning a friend told me about a site called www.prescriptionhope.com . They provide assistance to the poor in obtaining medication. On there I found another form to fill out and mail in. Unfortunately, I’m out of black ink in my printer so that will have to wait.

Overall, I feel pretty good today. I’m on a much more even keel even though I am having lawn equipment issues again. They’re not so much lawn equipment issues as they are compressor issues. Mike used the compressor the other night and the pressure has built up really high. I don’t know how to relieve said pressure so that I can affix the hose to the compressor so that I can blow up the tire on the lawn mower. We need a new tube for the tire. No money for that so, I just keep blowing it up. I get a lesson tomorrow morning on how to properly work the compressor. Tomorrow I will mow the lawns. I feel like I have said that everyday this week and still haven’t completed the task. I will do it tomorrow damn it. If it is the only thing I do, I will get it done. That is, if I wake up early enough. I have to do it before work at noon. As I don’t drink anymore, so I should be able to wake up with plenty of time to spare.

I quit drinking (for the most part) 109 days and 44 pounds ago. I have had beers since then, but have been sick in bed the next day for the entire day. I simply can’t handle alcohol anymore. I used to be able to go beer for beer with Mike; not anymore. I can drink maybe six and then I feel like shit the whole next day. I guess the fact that I can't drink alcohol is not a bad thing. I have lost a ton of weight. That is a plus because the reason I quit drinking is because I quit cigarettes and people usually gain weight when the quit cigs. I don’t miss smoking at all. I smell better, I feel better, I look better. But, I miss beer. I love beer and all its foamy goodness. I truly heart beer. L

A Little Balance Please or I was knocked the fuck out. Not sure what to call it.

Back to messed up meds. This time it was geodon. I ran out. I skipped one day. It put me in bed sweating until Mike was able to get me 60 mg. You see my meds cost $299.99 for a 30 day supply and I can’t really afford that right now. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to pay for it. Mike was able to get the pharmacy down to somewhere around $150. Mike also scored me 2 pills from the pharmacy for $30. That’s right folks 15 bucks a pop. He told me to take one last night and save one for in the morning. I think he thought that I took it two times a day like the label says. No way! Not the case. That shit makes me very sleepy; a fact I forgot. I take all 180 mgs at night to help sleep. Well, I took 60 mg this morning. This was at 7:30. At 8:00 I was setting my alarm for 11:45 because I was knocked the fuck out. I’m still kind of dull which is why I am sucking at my customer service job. I can’t seem to get repeat customers. My boss gave me some really good tips today. I really need a real job and soon. I thought I had one but it turns out it was a scam. So I’m still trying to work from home.

Never did get the weed whacking done. I just suck at it. No, not really. I just hate doing it. I have to face facts. I do not want to do it. I’ll mow the lawn. I love mowing the lawn. The problem is every 3^rd mow I break the lawn mower or destroy something. I was going to do it this morning and then I took that Geodon. So, no go on the lawn. My nap was great though. I’ll do it tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning I am going to feel spectacular. Mike is going to pick up my prescription after work so I will have a normal dose of meds tonight. That means that tomorrow morning I am going to wake up feeling like normal old me. Yay! A great night of sleep and the proper dosage of medication makes Wendy happy. I will feel wonderful tomorrow. I will get up and mow our lawn. I will also mow the neighbor’s lawn. He pays me $30. That’s a sweet deal for me. I'll take whatever I can get.

My Source

I recently started reading again. I forgot how much I enjoyed it. I love getting lost in books. There is nothing better than a …oh wait! I don’t read books anymore. I have a Kindle. I am in love with it. I have a huge library stored on it. See my house is not big enough to accommodate a full scale library so I built one virtually. As I’ve been down on my luck lately, I was not able to afford my reading habit. I mean, I don’t spend a lot on books. I buy cheap ones. They do tend to add up when you read as much as I do. I recently found a source for cheap and free Kindle books. I have a source again! I love this page so much. It is called Ereader News Today. If you are an avid reader you will fall in love too.

Mood Swings and Weed Whackers

I’ve been drinking a lot of detox tea lately. I think it is messing with my meds. I’m a little down. I stopped drinking it a couple of days ago and am starting to feel better. I don’t know what I was thinking. All I did was pee continuously. That’s not good for your body. Or maybe just my body. My brain feels deficient. I’m working on it though. Been in worse places and survived. So, let’s plaster a fucking smile on my face and march on.

 
My weed whacker hates me! I have been trying to start that bitch for three days. No joy. It almost cranks over and then poof! It’s gone. Not going to get that close again. Pull and pull and pull. My right arm’s developing quite the bicep. I send messages to Mike about how bad I hate that fucking machine. He so sweetly replies with a nice message that states that he will show me how to start it. I haven’t taken him up on that yet because I know what’s going to happen. He is going to pull the string once and the machine will roar to life leaving me standing there stunned. But, tonight is the night. I’m going to ask for a lesson if only to get my hands on that running weed whacker so that I can knock down the weeds that are tree sized in my ditch. God, I love that man.

“Don’t let your tongue get your teeth knocked out”

So, someone got their panties in a wad over what I wrote yesterday. Consequently, I won’t be mentioning my mother’s son again after today. All I can say is that what I wrote is true and it’s not like it’s the first time he has threatened me and probably won’t be the last. Such is life. He drifts in and out of it every couple of years. As of last night when he sent me the text that is the title of this blog (or really as of a couple of years ago when he threatened to kill me) he is dead to me. I hope all his teeth fall out.

From now on I’m just going to tell random stories that probably won’t include much of about my family. It’s better that way. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s tender feelings.

I was looking at pictures the other night and I came across some old work pictures from when I and J did a Foreign Object Debris walk down of the launch pad when the Space Shuttle Atlantis was on the pad. We were really just joy riding. There was no debris to pick up. We had awesome jobs back then. We took a ton of pictures. I was trying to get a close up of J next to the orbiter when over the loud speaker came, “Attention on the 195 foot level, step away from the vehicle.” We laughed so hard. We got busted by one of the many cameras on the pad. Leave it to us, the bad girls of the space program.  That was a really fun time. The picture on my blog was taken that day. We were invited into the “white room” by the Pad Rats and had our pictures taken. The “white room” is the room where the astronauts enter the hatch of the Shuttle. We asked but they wouldn’t let us crawl into the vehicle. Hey, if you never ask the answer will always be no. Anyway, I had been in the crew cabin several times, but J had never been. It was not long after that trip that our boss decided we were too powerful a team and separated us by moving J to a different building. You see it was us against the old people we worked with and apparently we were having too much fun because we were constantly being ratted out for something we had done. We took our actual jobs very seriously and were good at them therefore; we had a lot of down time to goof off. I miss those days. J is aces in my book and I really miss working with her.

One hot mess

I was born on Friday, September 12, 1969, just in time for happy hour at 5:34 pm. My birth was pretty uneventful except that mom had to hold me there until the doctor decided to finally leave the golf course. She almost gave birth to me in the toilet because she thought she had to go. Nope, just the pressure of my noggin there.

I am the younger of two children. My brother is 19 months older than me. I’ll talk just a little about him because we do not have a relationship anymore and I know this upsets my mom, but he played an integral role in making me who I am. We used to be very close when we were little. As we grew, we grew apart. Different personalities and different sets of friends. My brother is a sociopath. Many sociopaths torture small animals for fun. Well, I was my brother’s small animal. He kicked my ass a lot, but he did always stick up for me. He caused much heartache in our household. That’s all I’m going to try to say about him. I’m sure he will surface here and there as my story progresses.

I think I was born with generalized anxiety disorder. I have always had anxiety issues and I think that’s why I cried so much when I was a baby. I cried so much that I nearly drove my mom insane. I was painfully shy and never wanted to leave my mom’s side. I was afraid of everything. What I mean is that I hated being put on display in any way, shape, or form. I just like to blend into the background. I’m always afraid I’m going to draw attention to myself or embarrass myself. I take meds for that now so it isn’t nearly as bad as when I was growing up, but growing up was painful. Add to the paralyzing anxiety coke bottle glasses, braces, unruly curly hair, and a body that developed way to young and you have a recipe for disaster. By the time I reached middle school I was one hot mess. I was bullied and beat up a lot. I think that is when my bipolar began to manifest itself. I think my first major depression was the result of the death of a very dear friend to leukemia when I was eleven. I never quite recovered from that. What do you know about mourning and grief at that age? You know nothing, but I found ways to numb the pain.

My brother turned me on to pot and booze. It helped on many levels. When I was drunk or stoned I lost all inhibitions and came out of my shell. It was much more comfortable to live that way so; I smoked a ton of pot. Despite this I still maintained really good grades and even got accepted to some Ivy League colleges. Unfortunately, I was too afraid to go. I went to the local community college for a few years, trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I eventually did go away to college and wound up losing my mind and getting locked up in the nut house for 72 hours (the first of several times). I came home after that and just sort of drifted. I always worked so I wasn’t a financial burden on anyone but I was still painfully shy and awkward in social settings. I had not been diagnosed yet. So, I was just the manic depressive, anxiety riddled mess. That’s when I met Pete.

I met Pete at my parent’s 25^th wedding anniversary party.  He was playing in the band. He was a guitar player. My mom and I were standing on the dance floor while they were setting up and she said something to the effect of, “Well, he’s got a nice ass.” I said, “That’s the man I’m going to marry.” Her response was, “So it shall be.” Almost a year to the day that we met he showed up on my mom’s back porch looking for me. It was love at first sight. It was a whirlwind romance. He asked me to marry him two weeks after we had been together and I said yes.