Being Alone VS Feeling Lonely

I am hardly ever alone.

I have three kids and a husband, and I spend alot of my time online in a chat room with people I've known for years. People I love and adore.

I feel horribly lonely though.

I feel like a third wheel in anything that is done or said.

I feel like an outsider.

Maybe it is my bi-polar sneaking up on me. I don't know. I have so many things going through my mind, my emotions are on a rollar coaster.

I feel disconnected.

Like a broken toy discarded on the floor. Forgotten. Abandoned.

The rational part of me tells me this isn't true. All those that I love in my life are still here for me, but I can't stop the way I >feel< about it.

I want to cry, I want to scream. I have to stay strong.

I'm tired of being strong. I want someone else to be strong for me. I'm tired of doing the math in my head and trying to figure out how everything is going to be all right.

I'm angry.

I'm hurt.

I feel betrayed.

My whole family has been suffering from the flu and it's nearly impossible to tell where the sickness ends and where it begins anymore. Coughing over here, throwing up over there.

Nothing that I was supposed to do has gotten done.

Chris and I have been fighting like crazy because I can't articulate my thoughts and feelings properly.

Everything he says and does makes me feel bad. Even if that stupid rational part of me tells me I'm over reacting.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Take last night for example. We decided to go to bed. He goes in to the bedroom, I stop at the bathroom. When I come in I start to remove my clothes, he says "Put on something nice for me" which, in my fucked up twisted mind translated into "You are not sexy enough as you are, you are fat and ugly" and I wanted to cry. I didn't want to make love anymore. I ask him, because surely that isn't how it meant it. He snaps at me. Which, translated to me "Get your ass over here and fuck me because that is what is important"

I climb into bed and he reaches over and clicks the telivision off, which, translated to me to be "I can't stand to make love to you with the lights on. I don't want to see your fat ass"

I take a few deep breaths and wrap my arms around him, whispering softly into his ear "Just hold me, for a minute please"

He of course, starts rubbing my back, my ass, and towards my breasts while nuzzling and kissing my neck.

To me that translated to "I don't feel like just holding you, I'm ready to fuck, even if you're not"

I started to cry at this point and he stops, asks me what the hell is going on. I don't tell him all these little translations, because honestly, it wasn't so clear to me last night. I just explained I needed him to hold me. He said he was. We went over how his idea of "holding me" was very different then mine at the moment.

A few more misunderstandings and we were on our way. Of course, making love was beautiful as always and, I had an orgasm with him on top, which, happens maybe once a year or so.

Afterwards, I wanted to be held, to be cuddled and loved and cherished. All I got was "That took the last of my energy" just before he dozed off.

I barely slept all night, wondering where things had went so wrong. Am I not the women he wants me to be? Have I failed somehow? Have I gotten too fat?

I am so insecure about myself right now that I can't stand it.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I just take what is said at face value and leave it at that? Why is everything a battle?

I am so sick of this.

This morning, in my chat room. There were a couple of things said. Of course, somewhere, I read them all wrong and I got upset and I left.

It made Chris angry.

My friends were angry.

Even when you are surrounded by people you love, you can feel utterly alone.

Marriage

If you haven't read the most recent post at "According to Dan" you should.

I am but one person, so, my view is mine alone, but this is something I feel very passionate about.

When I married Chris, I had been through hell. Not only my childhood, but my first marriage as well.

I was the first woman he had ever been in a long term relationship with.

Things were not easy in the beginning.

He felt he had to provide money and material things.

He worked two jobs and I worked as well.

I was hurt and bitter because I felt he was avoiding me.

He felt unappreciated.

He wanted to bring me home roses and take me to dinner at nice places.

I wanted him brought home safely and be taken to our room for a few hours of peacefullness together.

It took us both a while before we were able to talk about things.

How much simplier our life has become since we did that. See, I do not need new fancy things, or expensive dates. I need to know that he loves me, that he finds me sexy and desires me. I want to spend time talking, playing games, and just being a part of each other's lives.

He wanted to know that what he was doing was making me happy.

I have to agree with Temptation. She said that "Men are relativly simple creatures (no offence intended, i simply mean in terms of their wants in life)."
To make Chris happy I need to remain faithful, take care of his children and home, and give him the love and respect that he deserves. That's it, that's all he asks of me.

There are times when we goof off and play around, we wrestle with one another and with our kids. Never though, never would I hit him in an attempt to gain control over him. That is simply not my place, it is wrong, I wont' do it.

I expect him to honor me the same way.

Neither of us are punching bags for the other.

So many times I see other women who give their husband's "the look" or a "warning smack" while out in public and I see the shame washing over their faces and the anger as they try to keep their calm in public.

Why do they do that? Because they are taught that women are independant and strong. Yes, that is true, but do we have to fight our basic natures? To love and nurture? To nest and build a home?

I don't think that we do.

As far back as man's exsistance reaches, women have been the homemakers, the caretakers. I do not believe this to be because it is something that is taught to you. It is in our primal urges. It is what makes us women. We can not change the fact that our bodies provide our babies with the milk they need as infants. It is the way it is. So plain and simple.

Time however, has changed that for us. I am grateful to have the right to vote, to work, to own property if I should so choose. But I also want to feel as if I have the right to choose to stay at home, raise my kids, dote on my husband, and not have people tell me that I am anti-feminism.
What good are all those rights if other women are simply going to go around telling me that I'm wrong for my choices?

Marriage is a give and take. It isn't 50/50 like some people think. It is 100/100. Each person has to be willing to give 100% of themselves to the other.

Sometimes it means giving, sometimes it means taking, most of the time, it means compromising.

I am proud to be Chris' wife. The very thought of it, even six years later, fills me with a joy that I can't properly put into words.

I hear alot of women complaining about how they wish their husband's did this, or did that, and I always wonder how much >they< are doing in their relationship.

Why is it always assumed to be the man's responsibility to be romantic? To take out the trash? To play catch with the boys?

A guy that I know very little, recently told me that he wants to move to another town and his girlfriend refuses to consider it and he doesn't understand why. I asked him why he wanted to move and why she didn't. He wants to move so that he doesn't have to drive so far to get to work (the commute takes two hours a day) She doesn't want to move because all of her family is here. He asked what I would do.

I would explain to Chris why I didn't want to move. Then I would trust him to make the best decision for us.

I did do this, I moved 26 hours away from my family to a strange city, a strange life, with strange new in-laws.

It was the best thing we could have done for our family.

Maybe this post won't make sense. Maybe how I view marriage doesn't make sense. But for us, it's what works and we are both happy with that. It's all anyone can ask for.

A Miracle

I have always known that the birth of a child is a miracle. I have three of my own to remind me.

Watching one come into the world is. . . so different.

At 2:25 pm today, Damien Xavier came into the world weighing in at 6lbs and 14oz and 19 1/4 inches long.

Sounds like an average baby, but, considering my smallest was 7lbs and 8oz he looked so tiny to me.

As I stood there watching, holding on to the mother to be, counting with her, encouraging her to push, I saw his head slip through and heard the doctors tell her to stop pushing.

I stared down at his tiny little face, his skin still blue from no oxygen, and willed him to breath, to open his eyes, to do something.

I know it couldn't have taken long because before his feet were completely out, we heard his first cry. It seemed to take forever to me.

Of course, the birth overshadowed the labor process, not only for me, but for her as well.

I looked in on my own children when I arrived home and I thanked the Lord that I have them.

For me, it is the ultimate gift.

Mixed Emotions

Well, it is official. I have no job.

I asked him what the "official reason" was. He gave me a bunch of crap and in the end, refused to answer me when I told him to just come out and say it. Told me to call the head office. I think I will.

On the other hand.

Tomorrow I will be heading out very early in the morning to help my cousin in law deliver her baby. I am so excited.

I have had three of my own, and I have five neices and nine nephews and yet, have never >seen< a baby born.

I am very excited.

Did I mention that?

I will let you all know as soon as I get home how it all went.

So, I have this terrible thing happening, and this wonderful thing happening.

For right now, I'm going to focus on the positive.

Wish us luck.

Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

Let me start by assuring everyone that, no matter what I feel like I need at the moment. Chris would never harm me in this way.

What I feel I need is based on raw emotion of the moment.

What he feels I need is based on knowing me, knowing my reactions to specific circumstances, knowing what is safe for me and knowing what I can handle emotionaly and physically.

These are not things I could handle he says. I have to believe he is right. It does not stop the fact that I feel worthless.

I need the pain in my body to stop the pain in my mind, in my heart.

If he uses me, then I know that I am worth >something<.

I don't feel that way right now.

We have not made love, or had sex of any kind since this all started.

My mind tells me it is because we are so worn out and stressed.

He has held me gently every night.

He feels this is what I need.

He knows what is best for me. It is why I have placed my complete and utter trust in him to help me take care of my well being.

I am still depressed. I am still feeling very worthless. I feel as if I have failed my family and I am grasping out for things to hold on to.

I am strong though and I know that with him by my side we will make it through it. I just have to fight my way out of the darkness before I can post positive things again. It seems like two steps foward and three steps back.

Needs

I need him to make me feel pain.

I need him to take my nipples and twist and pinch them.

I need him to make me bend over and use the belt on me.

I need him to slap my face.

I need him to pull my hair.

I need him to call me his whore.

I need him to fuck me and then throw me to the ground discarded.

I need him to punish me.

I need him hurt me, in every single way possible.

I don't deserve his love. I don't deserve anyone's love. I need him to stop the pain inside of me. I need him to treat me as worthless as I really am.

The Rat Wins

I can't even begin to explain my emotions right now, so I'll just give the facts.

Most of you know of my struggles with the Rat. Just as I have people in my corner, so does he.

But, per our respective personalities, the people we choose to aline ourselves with are very much like us.

The people in my corner are honest, hard working, friendly and loyal.

The people in his corner are much like him, decietful, lazy, rude and will stab you in the back without a second thought.

Perhaps I would have done better to align myself with them.

I arrived at work tonight, ready to go to work. Fifteen minutes early. I check the communication board, as I always do and I see that there is a new schedule posted. I am a bit confused because I don't see my name on it, but, I chalk it up to the fact that I am a manager and they must be going on corperates schedule seeing how I don't see any other manager names either.

I turn around and lo and behold there's the Boss. I ask him about it and he asks me to come into his office. I do. He waits for one of the other girls to come in, which isn't unusual, and he starts off with "There was an incident"

I immediatly think of the other night when I had a go around with an employee because she wanted me to stay up at the desk instead of doing what I was supposed to.

I remain quiet and he continues.

"There was a night where someone from the restraunt asked you if you had a reciept for the food you had and you couldn't produce one. I hate to say it, but my hands are tied. I think we are going to have to part ways"

I'm stunned. I stare at him for what seems like forever and there is a buzzing in the back of my mind. I want to tell him to fuck off, but, the bottom line of it is that I need this job. I need to be able to provide for my family"

Somehow I finally find my voice "What are you talking about? I don't even get a chance to defend myself?"

"Well, unless you have a reciept, there is nothing I can do"

Now, mind you, he still hasn't told me what I stole, or when I stole it, just, that I stole food. FOOD of all fucking things.

"I normally don't keep every single reciept Roger, check my card, I use my card for everything"

"It's been well documented, I can't do anything"

"What exactly am I being accused of taking?"

"Something from the bakery table I think" I fight to recall the last days I worked, considering I was off for two days.

"Here it is, carrot cake" he looks back up at me and I have to resist the urge to laugh. I know in the back of my mind that it is simply a reaction from the stress, but, after two fucking years of living at this fucking place, they are going to fire me because a restraunt person said I didn't pay for FUCKING CARROT CAKE?!

"At the very least I have to suspend you without pay until I have a chance to investigate this further"

"How long is that going to take?"

"I'll know tomorrow"

"Does that mean you'll call me or what?"

"Yeah, I'll look into it and call you tomorrow"

So, I thank him for his time and leave.

As soon as the cold air hits my face I realize how stupid it was of me to say thank you. Old habits are a bitch.

Then I get the joy of coming home and breaking it to Chris.

Saying he was pissed is an understatment. Every aspect of our lives has suffered because of the demands of this job. I worked 20 straight hours one weekend because no one else could be found and when I tried to call the Boss about it, I was told to handle it because that's what he pays me for.

I have the reciept.

I will take it in.

It won't change anything though. Even if he does have to keep me on because I have the reciept, he is going to find a reason to get rid of me. Maybe because I am so outspoken. Maybe because I've questioned his authority, I don't know.

What fucking kills me though is that this is the doing of the Rat, and he will be forever smug for getting me fired. He said it a thousand times if he said it once, he would get my job.

He can fucking have it.

I hope he fucking dies.

Another Fantasy

There I am, kneeling on the floor, feeling the carpet rub against my knees.

My back aches from the position, of course, I have to keep it straight with my head lowered. I know this because he has told me several times that this is how he wants me when he gets home.

I have the fleeting thought that maybe he is going to be late. Of course he is though, I've already been here for half an hour. The muscles in my arms have burned so badly that I've actually lowered them.

He may not know that, but I do. I know that I disobeyed him. I will tell him. I always do.

My body tightens at the thought. He will punish me. He always does.

I will love it. It is the way that it is.

The door creaks open and I force myself even straighter. I'm glad that put my arms back into place behind my back.

My breasts hang heavy in front of me, but the nipples are hard and point right at him. They seem to get even harder as the cold air from behind him licks at them.

I can feel his eyes one me as he moves around me, inspecting me like a horse or a cow for sale. I want to look up and he knows this. He knows how hard it is for me to sit still. I want to see his face, see his approval, or disapproval, whatever the case may be, it is still hard to sit still. I shift, ever so slightly, maybe he won't notice.

The flick of his finger across my sensitive nipple causes me to jump slightly, but like a good sub, I hold my position, and yes, it sends a little shiver right down my spine. I know what he's like when he starts out like this.

He stands in front of me now and I'm staring down at his shoes. I think to myself "What would it be like to have to spit shine his shoes?" and I almost giggle. The feel of his open hand slapping my tit keeps me from that though and I feel it sway slightly. Before I can recover, he slaps the other one and I can't help but let out a little whimper.

"Where you a good girl today?"

Just the sound of "good girl" makes my head spin. I nod slightly and realize, a moment to late, as I feel his hand slap my face, that I should have replied out loud. I hurry to remedy that "Yes Sir, no Sir"

"Well, which is it? Yes or no?" another slap, this one a bit harder and I find it hard to focus and I weakly mutter "No sir, I didn't have my hands in place Sir, my arms were aching"

"So, you will need to be punished, very well"

I hear the zipper of his pants and my mouth begins to salivatate. I love sucking his cock. I love having it in my mouth, pressing against the back of my throat.

I feel the head of it pressing against my cheek and I turn, more out of instinct then thought and my mouth opens. He doesn't put it in though, he holds it in his hand and slaps my face with it. My lips, my cheeks, my eyes. All the while my mouth hangs open stupidly as I nearly beg him to let me taste him.

He slides it in just past the tip so that I can clean the pre-cum off of it and he slaps my tits again as I try to suck him farther into my mouth.

"Did I give you permission to suck on my cock whore? Did I? Answer me" Another slap to my tits with his free hand, his cock pulling out to be slapped against my face some more, over my eyes and nose, each one a bit harder then the last one. I know I look like a whore with my tongue hanging out, licking him when he gets close enough, the wetness trickling down my the inside of my thighs.

Finally, when I think I won't be able to take it anymore, he slides it in. I love feeling his rigid member, the softness of the skin, the hardness of it over all. I love the taste of his precum and the smell of him.

He places a hand on each side of my face and thrusts his hips forward, shoving it all the way to the back of my throat and I struggle to catch my breath with the ferocity of it all. There is no room for doubt, he's fucking my mouth and I love it. A low gutteral moan from deep in the back vibrates through my mouth and into his cock. I know this from the matching sound he makes and the way he shoves even more brutally, holding my face all the way against him as he spurts his cum all over my tongue and straight down into my belly.

He shoves me away from him and tenderness floods through me. I don't know how many times he's told me how intense it is for him to cum in my mouth like that. From my perch I can see his legs shaking slightly and after just a moment he reaches down and pulls me up against him.

He carresses me and tells me I am his good girl, that he loves me, that he is blessed because I am his wife. He carries me to our bed and holds me against his chest as I drift off to sleep.

The Rat

Thanks you guys, for all your words of encouragment.

This is a familiar road. One that I am intimate with.

Not that I like this path, just, I seem to travel it every couple of weeks.

I want to be a strong person. I want to be happy. I want to be a good wife, mother, daughter, friend.

Too often I don't feel like I am.

I have been very stressed at work.

See, there is this guy, I'll just call him "The Rat" because to me, that's what he is, looks, personality, the whole nine yards. He is a rat.

I hate the rat. If that man died, I would shed no tears, nor feel any kind of remorse. Only relief. I know that this is not a good way to feel about people, and it is not very often that I do, but this man drives me crazy.

I am calm, cool, collected when I am at work. I handle all kinds of emergencies. Everything from our entire systems crashing, all the way down to handling a dead body, and I always, always, keep my cool.

This man has made me cry though. Not in front of him mind you, because I won't give this prick the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

He is rude, billegerant, insubordinant, unreliable. He shows up whenever he wants. He says horrible things to me, he refuses to follow my orders.

Two nights ago, I told him to take his lunch break, it was 2am.

He told me he would "in a minute".

Thirty minutes later, I asked him again.

Rat: "Why do I have to take my lunch right now?

Me: "Because it's been half an hour since I asked you"

Rat: "Well I am not going to take it now"

Me: "Why is that?"

Rat: "Because I'm not hungry"

Me: "Since when do we base our lunches around weither we are hungry or not? We are supposed to take them when business dictates"

Rat: "Well, there is no one in the store"

Me: >stares at him< "That's kind of the point, unless of course you are going to wait until it's busy to take your lunch"

Rat: "Well, no one else makes me do that"

Me: "Well that's because you don't work with anyone else that asks you to do anything. Is there a reason that you can't simply do what I ask? Do you have an issue with me? Would you talk to C or R like this?"

Rat: " No because they know better then to mess with me. THEY KNOW BETTER!" (and yes, by now the man is screaming at me"

He doesn't follow company policies, he has come in four hours late before.

Why don't they fire him?

Fuck if I know. I ask myself that all the time.

Things have gotten so bad that I have had to call my boss in the middle of the night because the man literally screams at me across the store, ignores customers in order to fight with me, amongst other things.

I hate this man.

I hate this man.

I hate this man.

It has made me hate my job as well. I don't want to go to work on the nights that I have to work with him.

I've tried talking to my boss.

He tells me to document it.

I do.

Nothing happens.

I talk to him some more. He tells me to continue documenting it. Tells me to get others to document it.

Well no one wants to go to R about it because when someone does, and R manages to get off his ass and question the Rat about it, the Rat knows who told on him and he goes off on them for it.

Other managers have seen this!

I want to call the corp office, but, I'm afraid that R will get pissed and fire me over it. He keeps saying that things will get better, he tells me that he wants to get rid of him, then, he FUCKING PROMOTES HIM!

The man who shows up on time once every two damn weeks.

I mean seriously, WTF???

I want to scream, ugh.

So, anyway, my darling husband is aware of all of this of course. He does his best to keep me sane through the days I have to work with the Rat.

But, something happened last night that has left me smiling even today.

See, I normally take my mp3 player to work so I have something to listen to on my lunch break. I am very careful about it since it was so expensive, but, out of my fury for the rat, I left without taking it out from under my register where I had placed it while working.

Well, one of the girls I work with had driven her sister's truck to work, and, the mechanic who fixed her car brought it by and dropped it off, leaving her a driver short. I offered to drive it to her house if she would bring me back.

Of course, I stopped at home to let the husband know, and, to change out of my stupid uniform. I asked him if he wanted to go with me and much to my delight he said yes.

So, off we go, the girl lives thirty minutes from work, so, for the first half hour, we were able to just sit and talk about how our nights had went. Second half hour, was spent with me sitting back watching him charm the pants off of her.

He can't help it. It's natural to him, he doesn't even realize he does it.

Anyway, so, I realize that I have left the mp3 player and after A drops us off at home, we decide to run up and get it (since I have the next to days off) and then grab something to eat.

We go in, I move over to get me a cup of hot chocolate and talk to B who was cleaning up the store while the hubby looked around.

The rat, apperantly, did not see us come in together.

He says to me "Where's our paperclips?"

I ignored him the first time.

I ignored him the second time.

Third time he raised his voice to me, I turned and replied "Upstairs I'm sure"

Well, mind you, I felt sort of bad because B had asked me to bring some down and I forgot. I was so anxious to get out of there and away from that little fucker, it totally spaced my mind.

He opened his mouth to say something and my husband turned and with a quickness that suprises most people because of his size, he appears nearly right in front of the man and clears his throat.

No, I'm not sure if it was the fact that my husband is nearly twice the rat's size, or, the fact that he carries himself so dominantly, so confidently, or exactly what it was, but, I saw the fear rush to the rat's face and he stepped back away from the counter and my husband casually leaned against it and looked at me with a little grin and said something along the lines of "I'll wait right here until your ready"

Of course, the rat snapped his lips together so tight I don't know how he continued breathing.

Maybe it won't seem as funny to you guys, but, to me, it was just hilarious. He was afraid of my husband, through and through.

I felt good about it. It was his way of telling this man that I am his, that he won't put up with his shit, making him shut up.

So, no, things haven't been the greatest, but, in my moment of darkness, my darling husband rode to my rescue like a knight in shining armor.

A small victory I'm sure. The man is going to make me even more miserable when I have to work with him next, but it was so worth it.

I am going to try to blog a bit more later on, I'm still pretty tired. I've been sick on top of my depression, so I am not sure which one is making me sleep.

I miss you all though and have been making sure I keep up with everyone.

BTW Amber, Dario is on vacation, he should be back in the next couple of days.

The Slide Back Down.

I hate winter. Not sure when it happened, but, I do.

It wasn't always like this. I used to love winter. I remember as a child I loved sledding, tubbing, snowball fights, snow angels, snow forts. You name it, we did it. We wouldn't go inside until one of my brother's suffered an asthma attack and we were dragged in.

Of course, that alone invokes memories of a roaring fire, hot chocolate and, something about roasting marshmellows. All very good memories.

Of course, that was before my grandmother died.

Before our lives swooped into caos.

But, that is not the point of this particular post, so, I shall continue on.

Now, winter is nothing but crappy weather, worse roads, stupid drivers, car accidents, getting sick, doctor appointments, missed work, missed school, canceled school, and so many more that I will bore you to death if I keep going.

It also brings the holidays, which, for me, haven't been so pleasent this winter. Yes, I got gifts. Yes I spent time with my family. Still, I never >felt< the holiday spirit.

I suppose it would have something to do with the fact that my children and darling husband refused to actually enjoy it either.

I wanted the house to be filled with smells of freshly baked cookies while we made home made ornaments, or strung popcorn, singing carols or something.

But, if you've been following me, or read the archives, you'd know that was not to be in the cards for me.

So, needless to say, Valentine's Day has been both one of those. . . off and on things. I wanted to look forward to it, but, I knew what was coming.

I tried to get into the spirit of it.

Every day, starting on the first of February, my darling husband recieved a card a small gift. Seriously, nothing big at all. Little candies and such.

Then I gave him the "big" gifts. A twenty five dollar gift certificate to his favorite book store (Thanks to Amber and Dan for the idea) and a seventy five dollar gift certificate to his favorite gaming store.

I was rewarded with very little enthusiasm.

At least, in my opinion.

I had hoped for elation. I wanted him to be suprised and excited. Yet, all he did was kiss me and thank me.

I feel let down.

I did not recieve anything because we spent nearly two thousand dollars on me a couple of weeks ago for a brand new computer, moniter, printer, and digital camera. I knew I wasn't going to get anything.

Still, I suppose I had hoped he would get me at least a card.

Maybe it is me over reacting though, because I'v been battling my depression for a couple of days now.

Ever since we found a dead body at my work and I had to touch it. I can't really even go into the details, but, suffice it to say, it left me seriously messed up.

I have been suffering night terrors, which, are nothing new to me, but now they are so bad that for the first time, my children were witness to them and it scared them really bad.

I feel like a horrible mom.

I took grandma to get her hair done on Friday, got mine cut at the same time. New style. I liked it at first, but, husband didn't seem too excited over it, so, my own excitment has worn off.

I feel fat and ugly.

My bedroom is in serious need of a clean up and I don't feel like doing it.

I feel like a bad wife.

I wanted to go out to dinner with the husband for Valentine's Day, just the two of us, grandma even offered to watch the kids.

He's worried about money, so, we won't be going.

I feel unloved.

I want to cry.

I want to scream.

I want to sob.

I want this pain to stop.

I don't want to take medication again.

I hate feeling weak. I know alot of people who have depression and they don't have to take anything.

I have always had to fight. All my life. I'm sick of fighting. I want things to be right, to be simple.

I don't know how to make things right anymore. I am out of solutions.

I don't know how to make him see the things I want.

I can't just tell him, because I'm sure at this stage that is the advice I'd get. I can't though, because it feels selfish to me.

He is a full time student, he's working his ass off to get good grades, and he is getting them, straight A's so far.

I don't know, I'm just, sick of all of it.

I also know, in my mind, that this is part of my cycle. If you look back, you'll see the post where I started getting a bit manic. Everything was right, everything was good.

I always convince myself of that and then, suddenly, I hit the bottom again and I just want to curl up in a dark hole and never come out.

I hope I find my light soon. I hate the darkness.

Response To Dan's Blog

Well, as crappy as I feel, I really wanted to respond to Dan's blog. You can find his post on the right hand side bar of my blog under "According to Dan"

This is a subject very near and dear to me as I have an eleven year old daughter who, back when she was about six, was diagnosed with several "disorders"

1. Social Anxiety Disorder
A fear of social situations in which the patient is forced to be the center of attention.

2. Seperation Anxiety Disorder
An unnatural fear of losing someone close to you.

3. Obssessive Compulsive Disorder
This is hard to sum up in one sentence because it can manifest itself many different ways, but, it is a disorder that causes people to obssess over specific actions, or thoughts. Ie. Labeling everything in a very specific order, washing hands over and over for fear of germs, eleborate bedtime rituals, ect. . .

4. ADHD, or Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
This was pretty much the same thing that Dan described in his blog. It is the inability to pay attention to things.


After she was diagnosed, we had a serious go around with the school she attented. They wanted us to medicate her, we did not want to.

So, we did our homework, we researched, we read everything we could get our hands on. Each diagnosis had a medicine that could cure it, but, they would make the other conditions worse. This only reinforced our belief that she should not be medicated.

We ended up taking her to one of the leading specialist in our reigon for this kind of thing in children. He did an extensive exam on her and came up with the same conclusions that we did. She didn't need to be medicated.

There were several reasons I was opposed to medicating her. One was because I worked as a preschool teacher and far too many times, I had "problem" children in my class room. These kids were good kids, hyper yes, but, not to the point that they disrupted the class. Of course, in listning to the parents, these kids were horrible, so, the doctor put them on medication.

I saw first hand what the medication did to them. They slept through class, which, was a half day class to start with. They were groggy and sleepy when they were awake, they didn't want to eat anything. They were tiny little zombies and each day I saw this I was furious at the parents who didn't want to parent.

For me, this is what it boiled down to. What is easier to handle? A child who is flamboyant and full of energy or one that will sit in front of the television and do nothing all day long?

Of course, the answer is the second, but, as most of us know, it doesn't make it the >right<>if< they managed to find a medication that would help ALL of her symptoms without causing others (which was highly unlikely to start with) all we were doing was teaching her to rely on medication to solve her problems.

For us, medication is a very short term solution and our daughter has long term problems. We wanted to find a way to help her learn how to gain control over herself and be successful in her life. Drugs, even legal ones, should not be used to cope with emotional problems. In my opinion, they are not a stand alone fix.

We found that diet, proper amount of sleep, and tight rigid schedules, were very helpful in keeping our daughter focused.

I have tried to teach my sons that it is their responsibility to be respectful of women, but, it is also their responsibility to take care of the women in their life.

I agree with you Dan that alot of women do not know what they want and they somehow magically expect their mates to know what it is they want/need. I know I am guilty of it. It is very hard for me to express myself to him in a way that I feel he understands me. I refuse to use sex as a weapon though. I've blogged about that before so I won't go into it again.

I think that too many of our boys do not have good male role models in their lives. That is not to say that it is always the father's fault. I know alot of women who use thier children to get back at ex's. If they could just get the fuck over themselves and let the father's be father's, maybe things would be easier on our boys. In addition to that though, we need these father's too speak up and demand their rights. Make their children feel as if they are worth fighting for.

Thanks again Dan for a very thought provoking post. I agreed with nearly everything you said, though this is the first time I had thought about it in those terms.

Sick

Okay, so I am officialy sick.

I tried to fight it off.

I tried denying it.

All I want is to curl up and be left alone. I don't want to be cuddled. I don't want to be touched, it hurts so badly.

Even the feel of cloth against my skin hurts.

Wait, I do want to be touched, gently. I want to be pampered and spoiled and pampered.

I want hot bath and even hotter soup.

I thankfully have the day off. . . . from work anyway.

Parenting is one of those jobs where you just can't call in. Ever. I don't get sick days.

Well, sort of I do. Normally husband steps in, sends me off to bed, feeds me, and makes the children tiptoe like mice around the house.

Too bad he is as sick as I am. Which, never ever happens, so, when it does, I feel very obliged to take care of him. Cuddle him, cater to his every single whim. Anything to make him feel better.

So, if you guys don't see me for a couple more days, it's because this thing has kicked my ass into bed.

The Odd Feeling.

Sometimes I get this feeling. It is so hard to explain. My heart begins to beat faster, my stomach flutters and I want to curl up and weep.

It's how I'm feeling right now.

My heart is thumping. My hands are shaking. Every now and then I feel I might be sick. I try to slow down my breathing. I try to focus, but my mind is whirling far to fast.

I want to be a good person. I want to make the people I love happy.

I want to feel normal, even if it is for a little while. I don't want to feel like I might collapse at any second.

I don't want to be afraid to get behind the wheel of the car.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I know what the doctors would say. They've said it before. Anxiety attacks. I know this in my mind, but it doesn't help. I can't stop my body from freaking out.

I have done nothing today. Literally. I can't bring myself to get up and find something to do. I know I should be productive, but I can't.

A part of me whispers into my ear that I am letting him down, yet, the other part of me tells me if he had an issue he would speak up.

I am not so sure that he would. He does not like confrontations, and frankly, I'm a bitch sometimes.

If I could change one thing about myself, it would not be my weight, it would not be my looks, or anything to that affect.

I want to be a better wife. I want to be able to let go and allow him to control things as he sees fit.

I can't though. I have fought so hard and so long, to get to where I am right now that I am terrified of letting that go.

For six years now, he has been my mate, my husband, my best friend.

I know this because I have never allowed any one else as much freedom sexually with me, as I have him.

Still, I can't give it all up. I hate that. It is as if I don't trust him.

WHY CAN'T I GIVE IT UP COMPLETELY!?!?

I want to scream. I want to rail at the world. I want to punish the people in my life who have made it so hard for me to let go.

Survey

I would like to ask for everyone's help. We are conducting a survey for Psychology class. You do not have to leave a name, you could even email me your responses. If you choose to email me your response, please put "SURVEY" in the subject bar so it doesn't accidentally get deleted with the junk mail.

The assignment is due on Tuesday so we will interprete the data no later then Monday and I will post the findings here when we are complete. Thanks in advance for those of you willing to help me out.

First of all, please let me know if you are Male or Female.

The rest of the questions are rated on a scale of 1 to 5.


1=Strongly disagree 2=Slightly disagree 3=Agree 4=Slightly agree 5=Strongly agree


1. I am young
2. I am attractive
3. I am an ideal weight
4. I am social with others
5. I am financially secure
6. I would like to add or subtract a few years from my age.
7. I have had, or am considering plastic surgery to enhance myself
8. I would like to gain or lose weight
9. I often find myself feeling lonely
10.I need to find a way to bring more wealth or material things into my life.



It is my theory, that the people that I communicate to here on the net, through my blog, through their blogs, are more open and honest about/with themselves then the people in my real life. My husband disagrees. This seemed like the perfect way to figure out which of us was right when he was assigned the task of surveying 25 people. Since neither of us really go out, or have "groups" of friends, we decided to try it here, and, with people that I work with. Help me out you guys.

I normally feel no competition when it comes to my husband, but this one is important to me. I have always felt that most people I have met online, have been more honest with me then people who have to see me face to face. Feel free to place this on your blog if you feel so inclined, the more responses we get, the better off our data will be.

You guys are the best, even if you don't want to participate. I feel very lucky to be able to share myself with you, and have you share yourselves with me. It is something that brings me comfort and peace in my life.

Life is Looking Up

Life seems to be getting better.

We have new, improved, wonderful traps for the mice.

I am fairly sure we have gotten rid of the head lice.

Taxes have been filed and we will recieve our refund in a short while.

I will be getting a new computer.

My husband started school and is loving it.

He got his first grade, a total A in English Comp.

I have the night off.

I have missed him, terribly. I missed the way he holds me, the way his huge hands feel on the small of my back. The way he makes me feel so beautiful, sexy, needed and loved. 

It's like he wants to spend more time and energy into D and spending time with her and they make me feel crazy for suspecting something is going on. 

Wrapping This Up

I want to start with an apology and a thanks. I'm sorry I haven't posted lately, but, this story alone took a huge emotional toll on me and I really needed the time off. The thanks, is for all the kind words and support I've recieved from you guys. It has really helped.

Alot of people have asked me, here and through email, how I got over it.

I haven't. I don't think that I ever will.

I am still angry. I am still bitter. I want my sister back.

I want her to know my children, my husband. I want her advice, her humor. I want her to see the other thirteen nieces and nephews she has. I want to hold her hand as we sit together and watch her daughter come down the isle and start her own life.

I want so many things I can not list them all.

They will never happen and I am bitter and angry over that.

In my life though. I have two things that get me through.

One is that, no matter how hard, how difficult, how tragic things have been in my life, I know someone, somewhere, has it worse then me.

The second thing, is that in my life, I have love. The love of my brothers, my nieces and nephews, my in-laws, my parents occasionally, my co-workers (most of them anyway). But, most importantly, I have the love of my children, and my dearest friends.

They are the reason I can still smile, still laugh and still love. They are my everything.

So yes, I am bitter and angry over this. This is one thing in my life, and I refuse to allow this one thing, this bitterness and anger, to consume me.

I recently gave my best friend some words for thought. In them was a phrase that I strongy believe to be true. "Love heals all wounds if you let it"

My wounds have healed, the scars left behind by the them will always be with me. They will remind me.

Remind me of what I can not accept in my life. Remind me of what I believe love to be and not to be. Remind me of the kind of person, mother, wife, sister, and friend I want to be

It reminds me that I have the power to make choices in my life.

So, for those rare assholes, who seem to think I need to be saved, or that my sister got what she deserved, my bottom line to you is FUCK OFF. I don't need, nor want your shit. I am happy and content in my life. If you want to save someone, go to a battered women's shelter, listen to them, donate money, time, find someone who DOES need and want help, because you won't find her here.

My nightmare continues

Once I was in the car. Driving. Still numb from the pain. He begins to tell me the story.

They were fighting, again. No one knows, even now, what started the argument. Simply that they were arguing and she left the house with the kids. She went to my cousins. A cousin I had never met, but one that she grew close to in the time she had been there.

He called her there. Told her he was sorry, asked if they were still going to go out that night. She said yes and left the children there.

When she arrived home, the argument continued. Again, I am unsure as to what caused it, or what they were arguing about. But, in the heat of the moment she blurted out "You should go back to Tammy and I should go back to Mike." each of their ex-spouses respectivally.

It was then that he went into the bedroom and got out the gun.

The one she had bought to protect herself with.

Against him.

The one my father begged her not to buy.

When he turned around, she was standing behind him. Maybe she knew what he was going after, maybe she wanted to go and get it before he could . Maybe she thought he was going to hit her again and she wanted the gun for protection. Lord knows she knew it was coming at some point. It always did.

He grabbed ahold of her at that point and put her in a headlock. It wasn't hard. He was huge compared to her. He had around a foot and a half in height on her, not to mention nearly a hundred pounds.

They stood there like that, screaming and fighting, and he put the gun to her head, right up against the temple and the room fell silent.

"You are not man enough to shoot me Jim"

The last words she ever spoke.

Bang... Bang... Bang...Bang... Bang...

Five times he shot her in her head. Moving down a few inches after each shot.

The last one went clear through her cheeks. I remember seeing where they had fixed it when the morgue did her makeup.

He carried her over and laid her gently on the bed, he even pulled the covers over her. He set the gun down next to her on the bedside table and reached for the phone with his bloody hands. Her blood. He dialed 911 and calmly said "My wife's been shot." When they arrived, he simply lead them, wordless to the bedroom and pointed. When they asked if he knew who had done it, he nodded once and said "Me"

There was no remorse. They say the drugs and alcohol in him kept him from feeling it. I think it was because he simply didn't care.

They rushed her to the hospital, and she lived for two more hours. It was two minutes till midnight when they pronounced her dead. Saturday, June 5th.

I was told on Tuesday, June 8th. Three days later.

I asked him why mom didn't call me. Why she hadn't come to get me. He said they had went to identify the body and bring it back. Somewhere, it clicked in my mind, that they had driven >right past<>I< be allowed to see them. I was so depressed, not only had I lost my sister, but, I had lost my neice and nephew too.

It took nearly a year, during which time my mother had to sneak to their schools to see them, making them promise not to tell anyone, but, my counselor, was able to make it in front of a judge.

My first court experience. I begged the judge. I cried about the injustice. He must have found something powerful in my words because he ordered them to have visitation with us.

Their father divorced the women soon after.

But, of course, he wasn't single for very long. He remarried a women who had a child of her own. A little girl, around my nephews age.

The woman's name was Penny.

Thank God for Penny.

I believe this woman was sent into their dad's life, to save my niece. She began to take her to church. She treated her with love, and respect, we no longer needed a court order. Penny would bring them by to see us on their way to town, she invited my family to dinner with them. She held my niece in the middle of the night when she cried out for her mother. They could call her whatever they wanted too.

The marriage didn't last.Thankfully though, Penny had formed such a relationship with my niece though, that she sued, and won custody of her.

My nephew went to live with his father.

My niece is now almost twenty five. She will be graduating college this year, as well as marrying her childhood sweetheart. She will be a teacher. She has never given herself to anyone, saving herself for her wedding night.

I do not know, nor does anyone that we can contact. Know the location of either of my nephews.

The oldest, the last time I heard, was in the state of Washington, rumored to be on the run from the law for drugs. He is nearly twenty three.

The youngest. Was only two and a half when she was murdered. My parents decided they could not take care of him, for both my older brother, and my younger became terribly suicidal over her death. So he was sent to live with his father's sister.

It is something I never agreed with. It is something that still eats away at me. His father, at first, was not allowed any contact with him. They promised us that they would tell him the truth. At first, we were allowed to see him often.

Those visits were harder on me then anyone else. We would go to pick him up and he would cling to his aunt's leg and scream "Mommy Mommy Mommy" and he would cry like crazy when we picked him up and left with him.

Over the days that we had him, he would cling to me. I was happy to have it, for I clung as tightly right back. Then we would take him back. He would cling to me and scream "Mommy Mommy Mommy". It broke my heart that he would not remember her, he was too young to understand. He only knew that a women he loved, one that he called Mommy, had left him and never came back.

As a child, he was very somber. He would make jokes, but never laugh at them. He played next to the other children, but never with them.

It has been many years since I have seen any of them. Though I do keep in contact with my niece. She has told me, that she has virtually no memories of her mother. What few ones she has, are more like stories that we've told her. My mother, even now, refuses to talk about her.

My niece, told me her wedding date, and I paused. A very long time, so long in fact, that she had to ask if I was still on the phone. I choked out a yes, and she told me "I know you may not understand it, but, for me, that day really doesn't hold a lot of significance. For you, for grandma, it is a day of sorrow. I want it to be a day of happiness"

She is to be wed on June 5th of this year.

I haven't seen her in ten years. But I will be there. Nothing will stop me. I will sit up front and watch her walk down the isle and pledge her life to a man she loves with all her heart, a man who loves her just as much. I will witness them starting their life together. I know, that my sister will also be watching. Smiling down proudly at her.

My nightmare

I want to go back and answer the questions that Amber asked me in the comment section of my last post.

First of all, this was catagorically, one of the most horrific events in my life. Not even my own rape compared to the pain and sorrow I felt at losing my only sister.

She was murdered in June. Three months shy of my thirteenth birthday.

I wasn't living with my parents. I have not lived with them since I was eight years old. Again, another story for another time.

The place I was living at the time, was what they call a Residental Child Care Facility. Which is a big fancy word for kids who were fucked up, but hadn't broken the law.

My parents didn't want me. They say it was because they couldn't "handle" me, but as a mother myself, I found this a pitiful exscuse. This alone has left me with huge issues.

Anyway, I had lived in this facility, called Western Acadamy, for about two years. The people there were like my family. I was the youngest "student" they ever had, I was also the one who remained there the longest.

I knew the rules.

I ran away. The night she was murdered. There was a total of four of us. We got away. Headed for freedom.

Then the feeling began. I started to throw up. I started to cry. No, it wasn't about being afraid. I had been on the run so many times. There was something wrong.

I told them that. That I had to go back. Something bad had happened. At first, they didn't believe me. I think they thought I was joking. The pain became so physically bad that I was unable to stand. I lowered myself to a curb and wrapped my arms around my knees and simply sobbed.

They took me back.

That was Saturday, June 5th.

Everything was in order at W.A.

I was punished for running away. I didn't understand. Something had happened. I felt it. Yet, everyone was fine. Everything in my small world was in order.

Sunday came and went. Nothing

Monday came and went. Nothing

I began to feel stupid, but, relaxed in away.

Then Tuesday came. They day that seriously, changed my life.

There was alot of commotion. There was going to be a field trip. Of course. I wasn't going allowed to go because I was still on watch. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere, not even outside.

I heard someone say that they were late leaving for the trip, they said it was because Carol (my therapist) had an urgent phone call and they would be leaving soon.

It all rolled off my back. The trip didn't matter to me. I wasn't going.

Suddenly, Carol appeared next to me. Asked me to come to the office with her. I still, made no connection, and I followed along, ready for the scolding I was going to get for running away.

When I walked into the room. I felt a chill run throughout my body. Paul was there, standing in the corner with his arms across his chest. John was there too. Sitting in a chair near the door. Now I was afraid. It wasn't that bad. I had run away alot of times.

Maybe this was the last straw, maybe they were tired of it. Maybe they were shipping me away. I started to feel my heart pounding a little harder.

John spoke up. He told me I had a phone call. I remember how I looked at them stupidly. I wasn't allowed phone calls. He told me to go ahead and take it. I will not ever forget the conversation. It was with my oldest brother.

Him: "Hey sis, how ya doing sweetheart?"

The sound of his voice, still makes me visibly shudder.

Me: "Okay I guess"
Him" How would you like to come home for a while?"
Me: " I can't, I got in trouble"
Him:" I know, but, I already talked to them, and I can come and get you"

I was confused. He had never come to pick me up before. Always my mother. I was over an hour away from him.

Me:" Why?"
Him: " Sister, I want you to sit down. I need to tell you something"

My heart leaped up into my throat and it constricted tightly. I gripped the phone with a death grip.

Me: "What is it? What's happened?"

At this point he begins to cry, and, simply because I can only remember him crying one other time, when my grandmother died, I too begin to cry. I know it's bad now. It's horrible and I feel that feeling come back in the pit of my stomach.

Carol reached out to put her hand on my arm. His words, came out as if he was being strangled, there was no doubt, he was very clear.

Him: "Melody's dead"

A simple, two worded statment, and I felt my entire world crumble around me. I know I dropped the phone. I fell forward and I screamed. I screamed and screamed so hard and so loud, that I heard nothing for the longest time. When I realized she was still touching me, I slapped at her hand, screaming for her not to touch me. I screamed at John, for some reason, his being there was the reason for this. I screamed so much and so loud, that my best friend began to scream and beat on the other side of the door to be let in.

After what seems like forever, she is there, she's confused, I hear her asking me what's wrong, but I can't bring myself to speak the words. I keep thinking maybe they are wrong, maybe it's some other beautiful woman with three children by the name of Melody. This can't be >my<>my< sister. It can't.

Then I realize the screaming has stopped, my mind, oh Lord, I have never felt so numb with pain, I simply stared at them once more, Tracy holding onto me, and me holding onto her for dear life.

They say my brother wants to talk to me. I pick up the phone again and he is openly sobbing. I want to throw up. He says I am not to run away, that he will be there to get me the next day. I beg for him to come and get me now. He says they won't let me. They are putting me on suicide watch.

They wouldn't let Tracy stay with me. They sent her home. They said they didn't want me to become dependant on her. Tina stayed with me. I remember curling up in her arms, not able to stop the flow of tears streaming down my face. I think I stayed like for about two hours before the questions set in.

How did she die? How did this happen? Was there a car accident? Where were the kids? What happened to the kids? Are they okay? Are they did? Why didn't my mother call me?

So many questions. I went back downstairs. I begged John to let me call my brother back and he let me. I don't remember much of that conversation, only that the children were fine, and he would tell me the rest later.

I no longer remember the course of events, but, I recall how it happened. It is a story I will cover in the next post since I want to put this one up and I have to go to work.

Abuse

I can't really talk about my feelings right now. I am not sure what will come out if I let myself open up, so I have to keep myself closed off, I can't think about emotions, why or what they mean. I just can't. But this place has become important to me, so, until I can talk again about me, my heart and emotions, I will simply write about my opinions. I hope you can stick with me through this.

Sea Rabbit posted recently about domestic abuse. This is a subject I am very passionate about. My sister, my only sister, was an abused wife.

She was older then me, 14 years older then me. Matter of fact, there is only one year between my younger brother and her first child.

She was beautiful too. She had shoulder length brown hair and big brown eyes. She was the tiniest thing you ever saw. I don't clearly recall how tall she was, but, when I was eleven, she was twenty-five and I could fit into her jeans. It was her smile and laughter that I remember most though. She had the kind of smile and laughter that was contagious.

Everyone who met my sister fell in love with her. She loved them back passionatly. She never gave just part of herself, even to her friends. For her, it was all or nothing, there was no in between. If you met her, you couldn't help yourself, you had to like her.

She was fierce though. Like a mother bear with her cubs. Don't mess with her kids, or her family and friends and you'd be all right. If you did, watch out.

Her life is something that you see on a television mini-serious. As stated before, we didn't have the best parents. They tried I think, they were just not meant to be parents, moreso my mother then my father. This caused her to leave home very young. If my memory serves me correctly, she was fifteen when she ran away.

Again, she didn't do anything half assed. When she ran away, she didn't just leave home, she left the state. Several over actually. She went to Las Angeles, which, was a far cry from the small town in Colorado that we grew up in. She met up and lived with the Hells Angel's for the next couple of years.

Now, I've heard stories, true or not, I can't say, about how they "induct" women into their club. My sister, would not have, and did not go through that. She didn't have a boyfriend who was a part of it, she was just. . .. accepted by them because that is who she was.

When she returned home, she met and began dating a guy who eventually got her pregnant. So of course, they got married. She was barely eighteen. Out of this marriage came two beautiful children.

Then somewhere things went wrong. I was very young, so all I know is what I have been told. The story goes however, that her husband came home drunk and they had a fight, so he grabbed her by the neck and shoved her against the wall, screaming at her, cursing her, and causing her to nearly pass out from lack of breath.

The good news of this is that she left him. That very night, as soon as he passed out. She didn't look back, she didn't regret her decision. He was not only a drunk, but he had cheated on her over and over again.

Of course, I don't remember any of this. I was still too young and they never fought in front of us. To me, they were the perfect couple with the perfect life. He was fun to be around, they had the two kids and a dog, their own house, she stayed home and he worked. Ideal to me.

It amazes me what happens beneath the surface though.

So she left him, found a job of her own, a place of her own, started life over.

Then she met him. His name was Jim. The man was huge. At least, height wise. Not so very big in width, but he stood about 6'4". Which, next to her, was huge.

He wined her, dined her, told her everything she needed to hear. She held out too. They dated for about three years before she finally agreed to marry him. My family liked him, he was good with and to her kids. When he proposed, she happily said yes.

I remember the wedding very clearly. She was beutiful. She wore a purple dress that flowed, yet fit, in all the right places, my mother made it. They had the ceremony and reception in the place they met. Jim's band played the music and I remember at one point, he got up and sang. The one sone that sticks out in my mind, was "Old Time Rock and Roll". We danced. I was around eight years old I think. Perhaps seven.

It was the begin of the end for a lot of things.

On her wedding night, he beat her up. We found out later that this was the first time he had ever yelled at her, let alone hit her. He put her in the hospital that night. Yet she told no one. She went so far as to tell the police that she had run to the car to retrieve a bag that she had forgotten to take into the hotel, when she was jumped. She had to be there for two days.

Things kind of blur for me around this time. I have memories, and I have the stories. The point is that he beat her regularly and soon he didn't care who knew and who didn't. I do know, that at one point she was carrying his son and it still didn't stop him.

One of the scariest moments of my life came while I was at their home. They were fighting and he seemed to loom over the top of her, I wondered at that point in time, if he was the devil. I took her three children, and my younger brother and I hid us all in a closet. The baby was very young, maybe five months old or so, but it was as if he knew he had to be quiet. None of us made a sound, simply huddled together with tears streaming down our faces in the dark, listen to the screams and thuds as he beat the shit out of her.

It took a long time after they stopped before I was brave enough to leave my hiding place. What I found is a sight that will haunt me for the rest of my life. My sister's uncounsious form laying in the middle of a broken coffee table. I thought she was dead. I ran to the phone and was so distraught that I could not remember any numbers but my grandparents.

In the end, he had broken her back. It took her so long to recover from that and she stayed with my grandparents while she did. He came there once. My uncle ordered him off the property with a shotgun. Not pulling the trigger that day, is something that still eats away at him even now, almost fifteen years later.

It wasn't long before she was up and moving around again. She was determined to move on with her life. She left her homestate once more, taking only her youngest son. The other two were left with my parents while she moved from women's shelter to women's shelter. Searching for a place where she felt safe.

Eventually she did. She came to get her children. Then she took them to her new home. She had a new job and was going to school so that she could become an EMT.

Then she filed for divorce. Her fatal mistake.

Through her filing, he was able to obtain her address. He followed her. Stalked her. Back then, they didn't have laws against it. She got a restraining order. He ran her and her friends off the road and threatened her in front of all of them. The police told her that unless >they< witnessed it, there was nothing they could do.

This went on for a couple of months. Then he got tired of the game. He started picking her children up from school and from daycare. She would call and demand they not allow him to do it, each day they still did. After the third day, according to a letter she wrote to my parents, he told her that if she didn't come back to him, he would not be bringing them home the next time he picked them up.

What choice did she have? No one would protect her. No one would protect her children.

So she went back to him.

She bought a gun when she went to visit my parents the next time. The last time we saw her alive. My father begged her not to. She said it was to protect herself with it.

Four months later, he held that gun to her head and pulled the trigger five times because she told him "You're not man enough to it"l

I hope he feels like a real big man now.

I see a vast difference between dominating men, and men who abuse their women. I get tired of people judging battered women. Saying that they could leave at anytime. Some of them, perhaps even alot of them, could, but not all of them. Without knowing them, or their situation, don't judge them. You can't imagine what it must be like to have someone you once loved, beat you, hurt you, possibly even your children.

So please, if you see someone reaching out to you, even if you are not sure if it is abuse or not, put your hand out there and hold theirs. Help them out if that is what they choose. Sometimes they will not want that, and it is their choice, but they will need a friend, someone to talk to, someone they can be honest with. Be that someone.

Donate old clothes and household items to your nearest battered women's shelter.

Isn't it time we started careing about the nameless person next to us?

My Dream

I dreamt of you again. This is not the first time, and somehow I doubt it will be the last. It does, always take me by suprise however. Not that I dream of you, that I expect, how can one not dream of a man loved so deeply. No, it is the intensity of the dreams that catches me off guard.

It feels so real. The pleasure, and the pain. Always you leave me in my dreams after we make love. Our lovemaking is tender, your gaze full of love. The overwhelming feeling of protectivness I feel as you suckle my breasts sends shivers through me, even now in my waking hours. The longing I feel as your hands explore my body slowly, lazily, the amusment I see in your eyes at my response, nearly enough to drive me mad. The frantic way I touch you, trying desperately to please you.

The most intense feeling though doesn't stem from that. It only seeps in when I feel you thrust deep inside me, grunting softly, animalistically, as if on instinct, and feeling you throb against the muscles of my body as you fill me with your seed. Even writing about it now, it is so clear in my mind that I can almost feel it.

Then I wake and my body is empty of you and I want to weep. I want to be in your arms. I feel despair sweep over me that something so beautiful is gone. I lay there thinking of you in dark.

My husband says that he feels I am constantly testing those around me. That, sometimes I will give him a choice and he feels that it is just to see if he will pick the right one. The problem being, there is never a clear cut right one, so he has to guess. He says it is emotionally taxing. He says it is as if I feel the need to know that he loves me at all times. He is not the only one I test he says.

Even he knows that I do not do this on purpose. Most of the time, I don't even see how he comes to the conclusion that I am doing it. I don't mean to. I don't want to test the people I love. I don't want them to feel as if they are doomed no matter what they do.

Do I need to know that I am loved almost constantly? Yes. By everyone around me. It is not something I can control. I actually hate that about myself more than anything. I am so needy. Please love me. Please tell me I am desirable. Please tell me that you too ache with your need for me. Please tell me I am worthy of your love. I know that things will not always go my way. I know that sometimes, the things we want are not to be ours. It does not stop me from wanting them though or needing to know it's okay to want them.

So please, if I test you, be strong, know that I do not do this on purpose. I do not even think about doing it. It is because I need you to validate my feelings. I need to know that I am not the only one. Even if I can't hold you, or make love to you right then, knowing that you need it too, is enough for me.

Saying it once would be enough for most people. I realize, that I need to hear it more. If you feel it, say it. I don't expect lavish gifts, or your time, for I know that there are many things in our lives that keep us from that, but do not hide your feelings from me. This I beg of you.

I am always afraid of needing too much. I think. . .no. . . I know that it stems from a comment that my mother made to me once while we were fighting. She screamed at me "No one will ever love you enough, no matter how much they love you, it will never be enough for you, you need more then anyone can ever give you, you will suck everything good out of them until they have to leave just to keep their sanity"

In the back of my mind, I hear those words almost on a daily basis. Over and over in that high pitch scream. Some of you may wonder how a mother could say something so horrible rather then reassure her child of her love, but, my mother was not your ordinary mother. No no, she was a piece of work, a story for another time.

It's the words though. Do I drain those I love by being too needy of them? I know that I do not ask for a lot. At least not verbally. I am content with lazy days spent with you nearby. Flirting harmlessly. Watching you squirm. Is it a test? Perhaps. Do I mean it to be? No. But I can't help but want to know how much I am loved. I wish I didn't. Seriously. I wish I could just be. . .satisfied with what has already been said to me. I do know that you love me. But I live for your approval, your smile. I need to know that I please you.

I have made myself a promise. I will try to be careful not to test you. It isn't what I want. I will try to simply accept your love, in the way that you offer it to me. I am afraid though. I feel right now that I will fail this. I have tried before to remain silent until you are ready. It is very hard. What if you are not ever ready to say it again? What if you don't need to say it? What if you stop feeling it? What if the feeling passes for you?

My husband is a very loving, kind man who seems to always know what I need. I would never, ever walk away from him. I just can't see it happening. We have been through so much together and have always come out stronger for it. Side by side I know that we can do anything. But, I can't help but think that someday I will push him so far away from me that he will simply give up. It is how it always goes in my life.

My own parents gave me away because they could not love me enough. I have already one failed marriage. Don't even start me on the other men in my life. It is a constant battle for me not to lose those that I love. So, I will hold on tightly for as long as I can. Please don't hate me for that. It is because I love you so much that it leaves an ache inside me to even think about. Be gentle and tell me when I need to back off, but do not leave me, never leave me. I love you. Remember that.

I apologize if most of this post doesn't make sense. It is very early in the morning, and I really should be in bed. The dream woke me, and he has been heavy on my mind ever since. Too many random thoughts swirling around in there.

If you get time, check out the links I posted. These are blogs that truly speak to my heart. They are written by people I have never met, yet, I feel as if I know them. Some better than others. I have been blessed to be able to glimpse into their lives and have them share those with me. Amber and Sarah were the first blogs I ever read and through their honesty and insight, I was able to gain the courage to start this blog, as well as my adventure into this lifestyle. I know I have said it before, but I will once more thank them for that. Sea Rabbit has been a loyal friend and faithful reader. When I feel like giving up on this, knowing that she comes here to read the things I write, gives me the strength to come back. The other three blogs are written by men. To me, it is amazing to see men able to be honest and open about their feelings. It's like a little peek into the male mind. Which I need. Trust me. So thank you all for allowing me to share your lives with you, and please, keep writing, I look forward to it every day.

Loss of an Innocence

I remember how you looked to me. I was so young, too young really. Thirteen years old and yet you seemed to command my attention. It's not as if our surroundings were normal. We lived together even though we were strangers to one another. I no longer remember your story. Barely your name, it was Richard, I think. You were tall even without your cowboy hat. I was little then. Skinny girl with long, dark, wavey hair and big brown eyes.

I still wonder what caught your attention. You were not the first guy I lived with. The program I was in, was designed to help me become acclimated to living in society again. I had spent so much time living in homes and facilities. There were three of us in that program. Kevin, Jason and myself. For one reason or another, all three of us had spent so much time in homes that we had to learn to function with other people again. I was not your typical girl. I didn't have the urge to wear dresses, or do my hair every morning, or wear makeup. I wanted the guys to find me funny. I wanted to make them laugh, I wanted to be "one of the guys". Until you moved in.

You were placed at Horizon House because you were a runaway. Because it was either that or juvinile hall. Even then I had subbmissive issues. I recall that I was the one that always cooked dinner, set the table, cleared the dishes and washed them. No, it was not "required" of me, all of you were assigned chores, but I did it because it made me feel good.

I remember clearly the night that I first realized I had an effect on you. I was sitting there watching television, crammed between Kevin and Jason, my two best friends, eating a red popsicle. It was not meant to be sexual. Then I caught your eye and the look there sent tiny little shards of lightning down into my stomach and my breath caught. You glanced down to your lap and my eyes followed. I could hear my heart beating in my ears as I realized you were hard, just from watching me. That's when the game began. I slowed down, letting my tongue slowly move across the popsicle, taking it into my mouth as far as I could. Watching your eyes widen, you being the only one that noticed.


When I was done, I felt powerful. I felt like I was beautiful. A very odd feeling for me at that age. I went to my room. Of course, the fact that you had to go into my bedroom to get to the bathroom gave you the perfect exscuse to follow me. You grabbed me by the waist and growled softly at me. Your green eyes boring into me. I felt like a puddle of melted wax and I knew that you were going to kiss me. You did, and while it was not the first time I had been kissed, I felt my knees go weak. You pressed me hard against you and claimed me as yours. We only had a moment, because physical contact like this was forbidden and I remember wondering how long it would take before Mac realized what was going on.

This game went on for a long time. Me, going to school during the day, coming home to steal a few kisses, some light touches, serving dinner, more kisses, more touches. I became to depend on those. It didn't take Kevin and Jason long to figure it out. They tried to warn me against you. Told me you were too old for me, nearly eighteen you were. They told me that all you wanted was sex. All I heard were your words of love, the gentle touch, the need for me in your eyes. Then one day I came home and you were gone. They said you ran away. I was literally sick to my stomach, heartbroken. I cried myself to sleep that night.

Kevin and Jason came to me the next morning. I could tell it was something important, the looks they exchanged between one another told me that they didn't really want to tell me whatever it was, but after a moment, they gave me a letter. One that you had written to me and I cried again as I read how much you loved me, and how you needed me in your life. At the very bottom there was an address that I recognized. It was some friends of mine who lived not to far away. Your letter asked me to come to you, if I still felt the same way. Jason and Kevin watched me closely, they had already read the letter and were fearful that I would run away to be with you. I promised them that I would not do that. I had already had too much of life on the run. I did however, go to that house, knock on that door and skip school that day.

Someone answered the door, I don't remember now who it was, only that I did not recognize him, and he said to me " You must be Richard's girl" and I smiled a bit and nodded, he smiled back at me and I felt approval in his gaze. He led me down a set of darkened stairs. I went without a second thought, though, in hindsight I guess I was very lucky, I could have ended up gang rapped. None of that was in my mind though. My heart was in my throat, I knew that you would be asleep, it was only six thirty in the morning, what could you expect, I was on my way to school.

I saw you, curled up, sleeping peacefully. Even at twelve, I was struck with how much younger you looked as you slept, how relaxed, how handsome you were. I knelt next to you, as you were sleeping on the floor with an old blanket and your jacket for a pillow. My hand reached out to gently caress your face, your skin soft under the tips of my fingers. I ran my fingers into your silken blonde hair and you stirred slightly and a knot jumped into the pit of my stomach. I lean down and nuzzled my face into your neck and I feltl your arms wrap around me and pull me towards you. I revel in your manly scent and I wiggle to get closer to you. We kissed, slow lazy kisses. Your hands drift over the small of my back and I give off a contented sigh.

You however, are not content with this, your need is great and soon you are raining kisses down all over my face, my neck, my chest. You slowly slide the shirt from my shoulders and your hands reach up to touch my breasts. The nipples are straining towards your hand and you press harder against me before you dip your head to suckle at them. Your hands move down to find my wetness, one finger sliding along the folds slowly. I close my eyes and my body arcs up to meet your mouth, your fingers, even your breath. I can't get enough of you. I feel you pause a moment, your finger gone from my most sacred spot only long enough to take my hand and lead it to your arousal. I run my fingers along it, it seems big, but, what experience do I have? I feel a little afraid, but, I can't say anything because you might get angry. You might not love me anymore. Your eyes might darken and you might order me to get out, forever. So I allow you to continue, I even move against you.

I shift slightly, sliding down the length of you, kissing the entire way. This is not new to me, I've done this before. This is my safety net. If I can get you to cum in my mouth, then you will not want to put it inside of me. I use all my tricks, and several times I feel you getting close only to pull away from me. It leaves me confused and almost afraid, but not enough to make you stop, not enough to get up and leave. No matter how afraid I am of you taking away the one innocence I have left, the fear of you rejecting me is even more compelling.

I don't remember any words being spoken between us, no "are you ready for this" or anything like that. I just recall you being poised over me, in between my legs, feeling you pressing against me. My hands shoot out to your thighs, now I'm panicked, I know I shouldn't be doing this. I want to leave. You press forward and I scoot back. I can't find the words to say no, but I shake my head and my eyes dart around the room, perhaps looking for an escape. You move close once again and out of instint I scoot back again, my hands pressing against your thighs, silently I am asking you to stop for I can't find the words. This goes on for what seems like eternity, until I have no more room to back up, I am literally against a wall now. Just as the panic is enough that I think I can say something, you shove up against me hard, forcing yourself into my body. Forcing is a bad word to use, because I have not "said" for you to stop, but I use this word because I keep shaking my head and my body is no longer responding to you and yet, you don't seem to notice. You just keep pushing.

After what I am sure now was only a second, but what seemed like forever, you pull back and I breath a sigh of relief, my hand reaching up to caress your face. I want to tell you thank you, I want you to know how good it feels to me that you would stop for me. Your hand slowly comes up and my eyes turn inquisitive as you spit into it. I have never seen this before and my gaze shifts to watch you stroking yourself with your own spit. I have never seen a man do this before and I think to myself that I must be someone very special to you for you to need me so badly that you would masterbate over my nakkid body.

You smile, it seems a loving smile and I return the smile. My hand shifts down to touch your chest, it has no hair, it's very smooth under my fingers. You shift so that as you stroke yourself you are right over me. Your free hand reaching out to press against my clit. I close my eyes. I know what this leads to, I have touched myself before.

I open my mouth to tell you that I love you. What comes out is a pain filled cry as you have now shoved yourself completely inside me. My eyes flare open and tears spring to my eyes as I feel something inside me tear. Your eyes widen as they meet mine and I begin to cry softly. It doesn't stop you though, you keep going, thrusting deeply into me. I feel no pleasure at this, only pain. I turn my face away from you, staring at the wall as your movements pick up, then suddenly you are no longer inside me and I turn my head to see if it is over. just in time for me to watch as you spurt your juices all over my flat stomach. Your face is flushed and you are breathing raggedly.

You stand up and move into the bathroom. Only then do I notice that we have moved all the way across the room and now are only a few feet from it. You return with a towel in your hand and are cleaning yourself off. There are no tender words. The loving look is gone from your eyes. You stare at me for a moment, the tears running down my face, the blood trickling out of me and you lean down to pick up my clothes and toss them on top of me. "I'm sorry" is all that you say and I can barely breath the pain is so bad. Somehow I manage to struggle to my feet and run to the bathroom where I lock the door and through my tears I get myself cleaned up and dressed.

When I return, you are sitting on the floor. You won't look at me. I don't understand what I've done wrong. I gave you what you wanted. No, you >took< what you wanted, with no regard to me. All I wanted from you was to be loved. I kneel down next to you and brush your long golden locks out of your face. I'm not sure what to say, not sure how to make this better between us. Maybe it is the same for you, for you say nothing and turn your face away from me. There is nothing left for me to do but stand up and leave.

I leave then, but I do not go to school. I can't face Marcy. She will ask questions and I fear that I can not tell her what happened. I can't go back because Kevin and Jason will surely be able to look at me and know and Mac will ask why I am not in school. So instead I wander around thinking about things. Why didn't you cum inside me? Was it because you didn't want to get me pregnant? Or was it because I was not worthy of it?

My answer comes to me a few months later, when I find out that you are to be a father. I was not good enough for you. Not good enough for you to give of yourself to, though you took what was my greatest gift.

This is the true story of how I lost my virginity. I still think about it, and I still wonder what it was about me that was not good enough for him. It seems to be a common theme in my life. I feel as though I am not good enough for those that I love. It is something I am trying to work through. It is hard though.

When the people I care about don't let me in, my old doubts and fears come forth. Whey can't they confide in me? Why don't they trust me? Have I let them down at some point? My heart aches every time this happen. I love so deeply and want so despretely to make those around me feel safe and loved and secure. Yet, I am afraid to speak up, afraid of being rejected. I am left thinking about what might have been, what could have been and what should have been and I feel overwhelmed by it. This is a good place to stop before I lead myself down a path that I shouldn't. All I can do is hope that they all know how deeply I love them. Especially him.

Sea Of Life

I hate people. Not all people, just some people. Ignorant people. I don't mean people who are not book smart, or who's beliefs differ from mine. I am talking about people who spout random garbage out of their mouths without knowing what they are talking about. They have conviction, whithout being able to tell you why. They can't you >why<>proof< for people to provide. I would be happy if these ingorant people would say " because I have faith that it is supposed to be that way" I would accept that. But don't come to me, spouting bullshit you don't know about. Don't try telling me that there is nothing, or something wrong with me unless you know me, and don't fucking tell me that there I am broken because my husband and I live a sub/dom lifestyle. It is my life, get bent.

Moving on.

I see a light. It is shining brightly now, as if leading me out of the absolute darkness I've been in for so long. This darkness, is no ordinary darkness. There are no dim outlines, shadows, no heat left off of those around me. It's more like having your eyes and ears bound before someone tosses you off a ship into the deepest part of the icy sea. You get lost in your own mind while you slowly drown. The coldness stealing the feeling from your body untill you are simply numb, focused only on past mistakes and regrets, the what could have or should have beens. This is where I have been for so long now. Drowning in the sea of life. Somehow though, somehow, don't ask me how or when, a light has broken through and I am headed towards it. Towards happiness once more.

Most people wonder, with my three beautifull children and husband, how it is that they are not my light. They are my life raft. I cling tightly to them and revel in the warmth of their love, delight in their laughter, cry at their sorrows. Now and then, I feel myself slip away from them and I know that I am lost. I am never really sure what, or why, or how the light comes back to me, but I see it now and I am grateful for it. I will move towards it and turn my face so it can warm me with it's bright rays.

So, I promised progress in my life. Here it is. If you don't know what I'm talking about, read through the archives, I can't be bothered with the negative anymore today.

The college: My husband has started the first of his college classes. He is studying a very difficult course in the medical field and is now working on the pre-reqs to his pre-reqs for this. Four measly classes, most of the books we bought used, still cost us over four hundred dollars. Ugh. But, the positive note is that now while he is home with our kids, he has something else to occupy his time. Keep him busy. Building something for our future.

The mice: We managed to capture two of the little bastards. Call me cold and heartless, but, I wanted to just set those old fashioned traps, but no no, alas, my hubby would have none of that. So, now we have two of them, kept in a huge plastic, see through rubber maid tote. I was skeptical of that, it seem to indicate that they meant to keep it. It had food, water, a box big enough for the mouse to hide in and a toilet paper tube. This did not seem like the housing for a creature that we are meant to be getting rid of immediatly. My husband assured me though, that we would indeed be getting rid of them, setting them free in some woods down by the local fairgrounds. Imagine my shock and horror when I found out that the three kids had NAMED them. That means PET. I am not having mice for pets. Nope, no way, bottom line, period, end of discussion. So, anyway, third mouse, gets trapped in bathroom with husband, he calls for me to bring him something to trap it with. I get an old plastic mixing bowl and pass it through the door to him. He pushes a towel against the door so it can't slip past him. I listen intently for the loud squeeking of the mouse to tell me he was caught. They are loud by the way. Nothing, dead silence, so I press my ear against the door, just in time to hear the laundry basket move and the bowel to hit the ground. I excitedly ask him if he got it. He responds after a moment by telling me he killed it. He's got to be kidding, he does it all the time, so I repeat myself in asking if he got it. He opens the door, the man is pale, looks on the verge of tears, tells me that no, he really did kill it. He let go of the bowl and the mouse tried to dart past it and the edge of the bowl hit squarely on his neck, I think it must of broke up. Not a happy husband. At all. My eight year old tells me " Mom, you need to distract dad while I get rid of this, he's very upset. Then he proceeded to carefully wrap it up in an old rag and take it out to the dumpster. When he got back, he gave dad a big hug and told him it was okay.

Work front: Okay, so my job is still crap and I burned out as hell. Good news is that I have a four day weekend coming up. I will have time to put the links up on here that I awant to. Time to tear about the house and get it cleaned. Most importantly though, I will have time to eredicate the monstrosity plague that is head lice that my daughter has. YAY!

Money: Our money situation is still tight, but not nearly as bleak as it was. We have decided to file for bankruptcy as soon as we get our taxes back. It is the only way I can see us getting out of the debt that my ex-husband as been so kind as to dump us with, even though he was ordered to pay it all. Every time they find him he quits his job and well, I've had this job for nearly two years, I'm not too hard to find. Once that is done, I will breath so much easier. We can start rebuilding our credit and maybe in the next two years we will be able to get a house of our own.

Well, I've been up all night and am nearly asleep at the computer so I guess I better get to bed since I have to work tonight. Stay well and don't give up on me. I promise you links by the beggining of next week. I have some awsome blogs in my favorites.

This Year

I hate my job. For three days we have just been busier then hell. With three of us running registers and each register doing nearly 50 people per hour, that means that during one hour, we have at least 150 people in the store if not more. Which, normally is great, because it makes the time go faster, but, in this case, I have been put with two trainees who don't know jack shit. Well, one of them does, but Aaron is just a freaking moron. I can't even put it into words.

Other news on the homefront. I was all excited because finally the garnishment that has been on my check for months is nearly over. Of course, that was before I found out they froze my bank account. It didn't make sense. All I had to pay on it was about seventeen dollars. Now, all my money is direct deposit into my account, so this means that when my paycheck goes in, I can't touch it. I spent the better part of a day taking care of this and it turns out that the garnishment ended months ago but the company that I work for didn't catch it and just continued to take the money out and it was going to the sherrif's office, who in turn was sending it to the county clerk's office where it was doing nothing. One of those checks was sent back to my employeer so they will send me that money, but the others are just floating around and they won't send me that money until the checks are returned to them. BUT, the main thing is, I got them to lift the freeze on my bank account.

Not that life is any better. I am still short on money. We are waiting for our income tax refund to come in as well as a student loan to help pay for stuff. I hope we can hold out. I am so stressed over money. Over everything.

I am trying very hard not to let it all overwhelm me, but it's hard. We are still battling head lice with my daughter. We stopped treating her hair with chemicals and started using other methods, but nothing is working. We had the apartment people come in and put poisen in for the mice, they threw one box behind the stove. It isn't helping. Last night I couldn't sleep because I could hear the little bastards fighting in a corner of my closet, so at four am I was up tearing everything out of the closet, there was shredded paper all over the corner and under the bookshelf, they've been tearing my old books up. I was furious. I doubt my wonderful husband had a clue as to what was going on when he woke up to find me frantically vacuming out the damn closet.

Ugh. So, here is how the new year is starting for me. I am broke. I have mice living in my house, lice living in my daughter's head, I hate my job, none of the things I wanted to work on are getting worked on, we have no car, no nothing. I am not demanding. I don't need to be rich, don't need a fancy car or an awsome job, but, damnit, I want each of my kids to have their own room, and be able to pay for emergencies as they come up instead of pannicking. I hate it. I just want to be comfortable in life, why is that so hard to accomplish?

It isn't that I'm lazy, or that I expect things to come easily to me. I work my ass off at my job, people comment all the time, but damnit, the harder I work, the farther the things I want get away from me.

R called me into his office, said he wanted to pay me the money I deserve, yadda yadda, said they wanted to see me as a potential G.M, had me fill out a paper. It was a background check, which, was fine, I have no police record, but, seriously, my heart sank when I saw that they also do a credit check. If this position depends on a credit check, fuck it, there is no way I am going to ever move ahead with this company. I mean, my ex has fucked me so badly on credit, I am still trying to convice the husband to file bankruptcy when we get our money. It is the only thing I can see saving us. That way no one can come after my paycheck. By the time he is out of school we won't have to worry about all of our money going to pay back bills that the ex-husband should have paid. We can focus on us, getting a better place to live, maybe even a house.

So, all in all, not feeling real great about this year. I hope it gets better. Untill then, I should get myself to bed so I can function like a human tomorrow.