Next month will be my 63rd birthday. It's hard to believe I've lived this long, it sure doesn't feel like it. Older people always say things like that, I heard my own grandmother say it and yet failed to understand what she meant when she looked so ancient with her white skin and white hair, polyester pants and shaky, creaky voice. Now I know just what she meant.
Time passes so slowly at first, a heavy train with churning wheels inching along, heaving to and snapping each loaded car that it's attached to into action, taking years to climb up out of the canyon of youth and finally gather a little speed toward goals and dreams in an unknown future and then hitting a level straight stretch in the middle years, cruising smoothly if one is lucky, hitting rough track or running out of track all together if one isn't. And then the slight decline, the train picking up speed, lighter now because much of the cargo has been spent on the journey, cars have dropped off as family members have gone ahead. This new lightness, while potentially refreshing, is also filled with nostalgia for all that has been experienced on the trip, all of the people, once so alive and loved, now gone, and the once exciting adventure that was set upon with so much hope and joy is now rushing toward the end of the line and who knows what will happen then?
This morning, upon waking, I thought of Stephen and imagined living a lifetime without him. There are no guarantees, I could be dead by the end of the day or last another 30 years or anything in between. That's the trick about life: you don't know how much you're going to get or if any of it will be good or even worth it. I'm at that nostalgia point where all the people I grew up with and loved are gone. All of them and now, so is Stephen. He's been gone almost 29 months. Friday was his third birthday without him and tomorrow will be the third memorial birthday party. I have to clean house today and bake a cake somehow. I have all day today and all day tomorrow. Plenty of time but no time to waste.
Off and on since Stephen died, I've pondered ways to join him. I've imagined jumping from a high place like he did and I've spent plenty of time scoping out likely spots. But I'm not a jumper (but then neither was Stephen and he managed it). Then yesterday I thought of driving my car up into the mountains and finding a nice cliff to drive off, my old car Sybil and me could go together. A few times, I've spoken of acquiring an aneurysm and just dropping dead one day but there's no way to create one of those, you just have to hope. I've also mentioned being first, jumping up and waving my hands yelling, "Pick me! Oh please pick me!", if a gunman walked in to shoot up a place where I happened to be doing business or eating. That seems heroic, like maybe I could save the lives of others if I threw myself on him and maybe even freak him out a little. That would make the news and not seem like a suicide at all. No one would know. Then this morning I thought of tying a plastic bag over my head. I would only be uncomfortable for a few minutes but that's only if I could stand to go through with it and not rip the bag off before I passed out.
The urge to keep living is so strong! Even when there's really nothing going on and every reason to get going, the life inside has a will of its own and insists that it must continue no matter what. Even when you can't imagine going another day without your child alive in this world, you do. You just keep breathing in and out, you keep eating meals and going about life as if there was a point to it all. You keep waking up and upon waking think, shit.
Don't worry, I only have those fleeting thoughts, I'm not going anywhere, at least not on purpose. I have decided to give meaning to my life by writing it all down and I can't go until I'm finished. There is so much to write! It may take me years and although this is the first of it, the beginning of the process, I'm hoping that the act of writing will give twofold benefits: 1) I'll have something the get up for each day, a reason, an excuse, really, for wandering around in my past. 2) I'll get to live it all again, feel it all again, view it all from a distant perspective where the confusion can clear and hidden meanings can be revealed. Maybe I'll begin to understand where I came from, who my people really were, what their motives were, why they were they way they were, why I made the choices I made and why so many events just seemed to befall me.
I can't make the train stop at this point but I can run to the caboose and look back and back and back and try to make sense of it all before the stupid thing falls into a ravine, exploding in a ball of fire. I don't have to watch that part. I can focus on what has gone before and let the train run wild and free. And why not?
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Saturday, March 26, 2016
2007 was a good year ....
9:40am Writing Practice 33° Boise
Frosty out this morning, I hope all the newly blooming things survived the cold night. February was so warm, we all got lulled into thinking winter was over. But the day is bright and beautiful, it may warm up again. March only has another week and then it's on to April, the month of my birth. I'll be 63 years old. My next and last big bonus birthday is 65 and then I'll qualify for Medicare and I won't owe hardly any state taxes. Two more years.
Yesterday I went and drove that 2007 Vibe I was talking about and it was fine, probably the best vehicle I could find in that price range. I applied for a loan through Key Bank but it was too late in the day and I won't find out until Monday. In theory, I could take $3000 out of my savings account and put $3000 on my Capital One card and buy it today, then get financing next week. I was offered $1000 for Sybil as she sits from Jeff at State Street Auto Body last Thursday. Then it would become a kid car and who knows how she would be treated.
Funny. When I bought my little red car back in 1994, I told people that I would be keeping her forever and that someday she would be Stephen's car. 22 years later, I still have the car but Stephen is a box of ashes in my closet. He did use her to learn to drive in 2007. He was a very good driver once he learned. He was such a late bloomer in so many ways.
2007 was a great year for us, Stephen and me. We started out the year in Hannibal, working on the CD. We went to a movie on New Year's Eve, The Holiday, a sweet romantic comedy that we loved. That was out last New Year's Eve together. He was 23. In fact, 2007 was our last full year together. He left for Portland in November 2008, came back here September 2009, then left again July 2010, never to return.
2007 saw us completing our CD project, selling our house in Hannibal, moving to Boise, Stephen meeting Tony (a real boyfriend), learning to drive and getting his license. Then I bought this cottage in October and moved in over Thanksgiving weekend while he was spending the holiday with John's family in Hanford. Stephen was involved with Tony through the holidays and New Year's, so we didn't do anything much together. Although I think I made Christmas meat loaf dinner for all of us, including Mark, a tradition we continued for five years. The last one of those Stephen attended was 2009. That was the one where RubyAnn showed up a few weeks before and inserted herself into Mark's life. It was only a matter of time before she cut me out of his life and I knew it would happen the minute I met her.
So I guess I'm saying, I'm cool with buying a 2007 Vibe. That year treated us really well from beginning to end. Also, I'm not ready to commit to a huge car payment for the next six years. I haven't had a car payment since 1999, I need to start slow. I've had the best car of my life the last 22 years, who knows what the next one will be but I just want to start slow and work up. Or maybe see what the future brings. Just this morning I had the idea to take Sybil up to the mountains and find a nice cliff to drive off. When I go, I'd like to go with her. But then there's Nathan and Stephanie and James to think of. I don't want to hurt any young people with my passing so that idea is for another day. Besides, suicide isn't something you just up and do one day. You have to work up to it, it takes a plan and a lot of nerve to end a life. Suicide is not for the undecided or faint of heart, that's for sure.
Now, how did I get off on that subject? I guess I want to acknowledge that I have those thoughts. Ideas of ways to exit come to me at random moments and I entertain them for a bit, usually briefly. It doesn't take long to remember that I can't leave that way. After my last attempt, I promised not to do that again but then I spent another 14 years in self-destructive behavior that could have lead to my demise ... but didn't. I'm still here and that was 38 years ago. If anyone ever read this or any of my pages, they would think I was whacked. And maybe I am in a way. Stephen's life and suicide has left me in a void that I just rattle around in.
"Music survives everything, and like God, it is always present." Eric Clapton
When I heard that sentence in Clapton, The Autobiography, I knew it had significance for what I'm trying to write. I must do something with Stephen's music, it's his legacy. So are his photographs. I can't go until I get that job done. And whatever I do with it will be my legacy. He and I will leave no biological trace on this world (and Nathan doesn't intend to either but he's got his own art and plans for a legacy and is still alive to hone it all) and so the best I can do is take what Stephen left and combine it with my talents and ideas and make something of it all. Not everything is a masterpiece but all efforts are worthy of history in some way. Someday, someone might benefit from what I'm trying to do and if not, I will never know.
OK, off to get a grip. Breakfast first and then, who knows?
Frosty out this morning, I hope all the newly blooming things survived the cold night. February was so warm, we all got lulled into thinking winter was over. But the day is bright and beautiful, it may warm up again. March only has another week and then it's on to April, the month of my birth. I'll be 63 years old. My next and last big bonus birthday is 65 and then I'll qualify for Medicare and I won't owe hardly any state taxes. Two more years.
Yesterday I went and drove that 2007 Vibe I was talking about and it was fine, probably the best vehicle I could find in that price range. I applied for a loan through Key Bank but it was too late in the day and I won't find out until Monday. In theory, I could take $3000 out of my savings account and put $3000 on my Capital One card and buy it today, then get financing next week. I was offered $1000 for Sybil as she sits from Jeff at State Street Auto Body last Thursday. Then it would become a kid car and who knows how she would be treated.
Funny. When I bought my little red car back in 1994, I told people that I would be keeping her forever and that someday she would be Stephen's car. 22 years later, I still have the car but Stephen is a box of ashes in my closet. He did use her to learn to drive in 2007. He was a very good driver once he learned. He was such a late bloomer in so many ways.
2007 was a great year for us, Stephen and me. We started out the year in Hannibal, working on the CD. We went to a movie on New Year's Eve, The Holiday, a sweet romantic comedy that we loved. That was out last New Year's Eve together. He was 23. In fact, 2007 was our last full year together. He left for Portland in November 2008, came back here September 2009, then left again July 2010, never to return.
2007 saw us completing our CD project, selling our house in Hannibal, moving to Boise, Stephen meeting Tony (a real boyfriend), learning to drive and getting his license. Then I bought this cottage in October and moved in over Thanksgiving weekend while he was spending the holiday with John's family in Hanford. Stephen was involved with Tony through the holidays and New Year's, so we didn't do anything much together. Although I think I made Christmas meat loaf dinner for all of us, including Mark, a tradition we continued for five years. The last one of those Stephen attended was 2009. That was the one where RubyAnn showed up a few weeks before and inserted herself into Mark's life. It was only a matter of time before she cut me out of his life and I knew it would happen the minute I met her.
So I guess I'm saying, I'm cool with buying a 2007 Vibe. That year treated us really well from beginning to end. Also, I'm not ready to commit to a huge car payment for the next six years. I haven't had a car payment since 1999, I need to start slow. I've had the best car of my life the last 22 years, who knows what the next one will be but I just want to start slow and work up. Or maybe see what the future brings. Just this morning I had the idea to take Sybil up to the mountains and find a nice cliff to drive off. When I go, I'd like to go with her. But then there's Nathan and Stephanie and James to think of. I don't want to hurt any young people with my passing so that idea is for another day. Besides, suicide isn't something you just up and do one day. You have to work up to it, it takes a plan and a lot of nerve to end a life. Suicide is not for the undecided or faint of heart, that's for sure.
Now, how did I get off on that subject? I guess I want to acknowledge that I have those thoughts. Ideas of ways to exit come to me at random moments and I entertain them for a bit, usually briefly. It doesn't take long to remember that I can't leave that way. After my last attempt, I promised not to do that again but then I spent another 14 years in self-destructive behavior that could have lead to my demise ... but didn't. I'm still here and that was 38 years ago. If anyone ever read this or any of my pages, they would think I was whacked. And maybe I am in a way. Stephen's life and suicide has left me in a void that I just rattle around in.
"Music survives everything, and like God, it is always present." Eric Clapton
When I heard that sentence in Clapton, The Autobiography, I knew it had significance for what I'm trying to write. I must do something with Stephen's music, it's his legacy. So are his photographs. I can't go until I get that job done. And whatever I do with it will be my legacy. He and I will leave no biological trace on this world (and Nathan doesn't intend to either but he's got his own art and plans for a legacy and is still alive to hone it all) and so the best I can do is take what Stephen left and combine it with my talents and ideas and make something of it all. Not everything is a masterpiece but all efforts are worthy of history in some way. Someday, someone might benefit from what I'm trying to do and if not, I will never know.
OK, off to get a grip. Breakfast first and then, who knows?
Friday, March 25, 2016
Stephen's Birthday
10:14am Writing Practice 41° Boise
Today would have been Stephen's 33rd birthday. I welled up a little in bed this morning but didn't spill over and so far I'm fine. I got a sweet text from James DuTois and then I sent a text telling Nathan simply, I love you. He sent me one back, Yay! I love you too! That made me very happy, since I so seldom hear from him. He doesn't know how much I've thought about ending it all the last few years but it's the thought of him and how much it would hurt him if I did that that keeps me here. He's had enough trauma in his life when it comes to me, he doesn't deserve that final insult.
To catch up, I've been writing in my pages because I've left this laptop at the studio several nights this past week. I have my iPad mini to play around with here in the evenings but I've been trying to spend less time on Facebook at night and not having the laptop here makes it easier.
I went to Baker on Wednesday to support Yvonne and Ray and had a big talk with Ray's case worker. She doesn't think much of Yvonne so I tried to enlighten her. I hope I didn't say too much ... I had a cup of real coffee with Sue when I first got to town and that stuff tends to make me giddy and flip. But I asked for help before I went in and I think I did OK, by and large. The best point I tried to make with her was, yes, Ray is the focus but Yvonne needs support and encouragement, too. She's had precious little of it in her life and she could use some now. She's doing a marvelous job with Ray but she feels picked on and judged and so is not part of the "team". Lisa, the case worker, was complaining that she wished Yvonne would be more open, let them in her house, let more people be involved with Ray. She doesn't realize that her very attitude about Yvonne is what is blocking the progress. Sad. Lisa is holding views that are counter-productive to the process of transition for all of them. She didn't want Ray to move from his 18 year home in Haines, isolated out there far from town and opportunities to be more social. Yvonne is taking him to the library and he has started reading again. No one had worked with him out there in all those years! This change could be so good if people would set aside the judgement and embrace Yvonne as a team member for Ray. I hope the energy will move in that direction as time goes by.
On the way home from Baker, I stopped at Walmart in Ontario and bought a new desktop computer, an Acer Aspire Z all-in-one. The whole computer is in the screen and it's heavy! But it's a nice, big screen and it will be very fun to edit photos on it. It's got Windows 10 as an operating system and I can purchase a Waterlogue for PC and play with all my large photo files. I plan to buy a wireless keyboard and mouse and I'll be able to sit back in my beanbag chair to compose stories. Although I could do that with this laptop as well, if I took along this lap board. I sure have gotten great use of this old lapboard. It used to have a pillow attached but the elastic that kept it attached wore out long ago and the pillow was tossed. I'll keep my eyes open for a new one so that I can have one for the studio as well.
I really like it at my studio! I was thinking of leaving the laptop at home but I think I'll take it. The headset for the speech recognition program only works with this laptop. Plus it might take me a while to get everything moved over the the new desktop. I plan to go over after breakfast today and see if the wifi is fixed. It was out yesterday and so I didn't get too far in my set up. The new computer was only $349, no tax in Oregon which saved me over $20. I figure it's our birthday present to us, Stephen. I know it's not a Mac but that would be going too far. Now we have a desktop and a laptop and an iPad mini, we should be good to go for just about anything.
I looked at a car I kinda like yesterday. It's a 2007 Pontiac Vibe, a little hatchback SUV sort of thing, dark blue-gray, Ray's favorite color. 105k miles, not too high., really about average miles. A one owner, local family. It's in great condition and the price is under $6000. I just checked Kelly Blue Book and this is a good price for that car. I may go drive it today. Why not? That car might just fit the bill for me perfectly. I could finance it for 3 years and have a payment of about $150 a month if I put $1000 down and offer them $5500 as a sale price. It's got good tires and I wonder if I should have it checked out by my auto guys at Gary's? I'll call and ask. I was looking at the Vibe back in 2006 when they first came out. Very interesting idea. My total debts right now are about $3000 (not including my mortgage) and that's after almost 4 years since my bankruptcy. Not bad. My credit score has been 694 for several years, also not bad. I could see about getting qualified for a car loan but I'll need another 4 years in order to fully recover my credit. I may have to just eat a high interest rate for a while and if the monthly payment is right, not worry about it.
OK, seems like I'm all set to have a good day on this important anniversary. It's chilly and cloudy today, a good day to stay in and work on things but let's go see about that car first. Then this weekend I have to clean house for the party on Monday. Don't know what kind of cake I'll make this time ... maybe something from scratch .... we'll see. I'll be ready for a party by Monday with a nice, clean house. And maybe a new (to me) car.
Happy Birthday, Stephen, my little love. I miss you so much.
Mama loves you, honey.
Today would have been Stephen's 33rd birthday. I welled up a little in bed this morning but didn't spill over and so far I'm fine. I got a sweet text from James DuTois and then I sent a text telling Nathan simply, I love you. He sent me one back, Yay! I love you too! That made me very happy, since I so seldom hear from him. He doesn't know how much I've thought about ending it all the last few years but it's the thought of him and how much it would hurt him if I did that that keeps me here. He's had enough trauma in his life when it comes to me, he doesn't deserve that final insult.
To catch up, I've been writing in my pages because I've left this laptop at the studio several nights this past week. I have my iPad mini to play around with here in the evenings but I've been trying to spend less time on Facebook at night and not having the laptop here makes it easier.
I went to Baker on Wednesday to support Yvonne and Ray and had a big talk with Ray's case worker. She doesn't think much of Yvonne so I tried to enlighten her. I hope I didn't say too much ... I had a cup of real coffee with Sue when I first got to town and that stuff tends to make me giddy and flip. But I asked for help before I went in and I think I did OK, by and large. The best point I tried to make with her was, yes, Ray is the focus but Yvonne needs support and encouragement, too. She's had precious little of it in her life and she could use some now. She's doing a marvelous job with Ray but she feels picked on and judged and so is not part of the "team". Lisa, the case worker, was complaining that she wished Yvonne would be more open, let them in her house, let more people be involved with Ray. She doesn't realize that her very attitude about Yvonne is what is blocking the progress. Sad. Lisa is holding views that are counter-productive to the process of transition for all of them. She didn't want Ray to move from his 18 year home in Haines, isolated out there far from town and opportunities to be more social. Yvonne is taking him to the library and he has started reading again. No one had worked with him out there in all those years! This change could be so good if people would set aside the judgement and embrace Yvonne as a team member for Ray. I hope the energy will move in that direction as time goes by.
On the way home from Baker, I stopped at Walmart in Ontario and bought a new desktop computer, an Acer Aspire Z all-in-one. The whole computer is in the screen and it's heavy! But it's a nice, big screen and it will be very fun to edit photos on it. It's got Windows 10 as an operating system and I can purchase a Waterlogue for PC and play with all my large photo files. I plan to buy a wireless keyboard and mouse and I'll be able to sit back in my beanbag chair to compose stories. Although I could do that with this laptop as well, if I took along this lap board. I sure have gotten great use of this old lapboard. It used to have a pillow attached but the elastic that kept it attached wore out long ago and the pillow was tossed. I'll keep my eyes open for a new one so that I can have one for the studio as well.
I really like it at my studio! I was thinking of leaving the laptop at home but I think I'll take it. The headset for the speech recognition program only works with this laptop. Plus it might take me a while to get everything moved over the the new desktop. I plan to go over after breakfast today and see if the wifi is fixed. It was out yesterday and so I didn't get too far in my set up. The new computer was only $349, no tax in Oregon which saved me over $20. I figure it's our birthday present to us, Stephen. I know it's not a Mac but that would be going too far. Now we have a desktop and a laptop and an iPad mini, we should be good to go for just about anything.
I looked at a car I kinda like yesterday. It's a 2007 Pontiac Vibe, a little hatchback SUV sort of thing, dark blue-gray, Ray's favorite color. 105k miles, not too high., really about average miles. A one owner, local family. It's in great condition and the price is under $6000. I just checked Kelly Blue Book and this is a good price for that car. I may go drive it today. Why not? That car might just fit the bill for me perfectly. I could finance it for 3 years and have a payment of about $150 a month if I put $1000 down and offer them $5500 as a sale price. It's got good tires and I wonder if I should have it checked out by my auto guys at Gary's? I'll call and ask. I was looking at the Vibe back in 2006 when they first came out. Very interesting idea. My total debts right now are about $3000 (not including my mortgage) and that's after almost 4 years since my bankruptcy. Not bad. My credit score has been 694 for several years, also not bad. I could see about getting qualified for a car loan but I'll need another 4 years in order to fully recover my credit. I may have to just eat a high interest rate for a while and if the monthly payment is right, not worry about it.
OK, seems like I'm all set to have a good day on this important anniversary. It's chilly and cloudy today, a good day to stay in and work on things but let's go see about that car first. Then this weekend I have to clean house for the party on Monday. Don't know what kind of cake I'll make this time ... maybe something from scratch .... we'll see. I'll be ready for a party by Monday with a nice, clean house. And maybe a new (to me) car.
Mama loves you, honey.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Misc
10:12am Writing Practice 39° Boise
Milo woke me up at 7am and even though I went back to bed after my ASEA, I didn't get back to sleep. I feel fine though, I got up at 8:15 after laying on my neck ball and breathing, got all cleaned up and did my SuperBrain Yoga and twisty march for five minutes and then sat down here but went straight to e-mail and then Facebook. That's two days in a row that I've allowed a deviation, I better catch and correct that or it will be a habit and I don't want my morning schedule to go that way.
Yesterday I wrote the first post for The Art of Kindness blog and posted it on FB to rave reviews. I got two comments from Practice Happiness fans so that was good. Today I'll post something from the website but begin work on the story of Hank and running out of gas on Braddock Road in 1985, which is where this all began. That's a good way to begin the story. And after that, I want to transcribe the journal pages for the suicide attempt in 1971. I wonder if I can write two books at the same time? I guess we'll find out.
Went to see the tax man yesterday and the outcome was much better than I expected. After paying the fine for no insurance, I should get back enough to pay for the state taxes or very close to it. Then I'll pay for the tax preparation of $195. So I'll get to keep most of my nest egg! I've decided to open a second savings account at the bank and deposit $50 from each of my incomes, which will be about $100 a month to go toward the taxes I'll owe next year. It will take $300 to open the account and that should work out fine by the time I have to pay next year ... I should have over $1500 saved up for taxes but I'll have to leave the original $300 in there to carry over. I'll also continue to save in my regular account every month and hope that grows, too. I'll have income from teaching classes and maybe even coaching or session work as I go along. And then writing books. My retirement is starting to look pretty good these days and I'm just getting started!
OK, that's it for today, I'm going to get going on The Art of Kindness post and then find something to do today. It's sunny and supposed to get over 50° this afternoon, I may take my camera out and have fun before the gym.
Milo woke me up at 7am and even though I went back to bed after my ASEA, I didn't get back to sleep. I feel fine though, I got up at 8:15 after laying on my neck ball and breathing, got all cleaned up and did my SuperBrain Yoga and twisty march for five minutes and then sat down here but went straight to e-mail and then Facebook. That's two days in a row that I've allowed a deviation, I better catch and correct that or it will be a habit and I don't want my morning schedule to go that way.
Yesterday I wrote the first post for The Art of Kindness blog and posted it on FB to rave reviews. I got two comments from Practice Happiness fans so that was good. Today I'll post something from the website but begin work on the story of Hank and running out of gas on Braddock Road in 1985, which is where this all began. That's a good way to begin the story. And after that, I want to transcribe the journal pages for the suicide attempt in 1971. I wonder if I can write two books at the same time? I guess we'll find out.
Went to see the tax man yesterday and the outcome was much better than I expected. After paying the fine for no insurance, I should get back enough to pay for the state taxes or very close to it. Then I'll pay for the tax preparation of $195. So I'll get to keep most of my nest egg! I've decided to open a second savings account at the bank and deposit $50 from each of my incomes, which will be about $100 a month to go toward the taxes I'll owe next year. It will take $300 to open the account and that should work out fine by the time I have to pay next year ... I should have over $1500 saved up for taxes but I'll have to leave the original $300 in there to carry over. I'll also continue to save in my regular account every month and hope that grows, too. I'll have income from teaching classes and maybe even coaching or session work as I go along. And then writing books. My retirement is starting to look pretty good these days and I'm just getting started!
OK, that's it for today, I'm going to get going on The Art of Kindness post and then find something to do today. It's sunny and supposed to get over 50° this afternoon, I may take my camera out and have fun before the gym.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Channeled Message, cleansing and clearing
10:22am Writing Practice 40° Boise
I sat down here a half hour ago but allowed myself to go to FB first and I wasted all that time. It's another rainy day in the high desert and we're getting sick of it, the cats and me. Milo is running around flicking his tail and Rocky is disciplining him. They hardly got to go out yesterday and now today is a bust so far, too. Oh dang, I forgot to clean the litter box! Rats! brb. OK, all clean. They hate a dirty litter box. Maybe now they will calm down.
Today is shower and hair wash day and then I have my tax appointment at 3:30 this afternoon. I'm almost ready but not quite. I have about another half hour of final adding and preparing the page with the numbers to give to Mark Mosher when I get there. He's been doing my taxes for five or six years now and I only see him once a year. It's always a surprise to me how comfortable I am with him, how it feels like I know him better than I do. He must be extremely personable, that's all I can say. I'm trepidatious about the outcome of this meeting and what it will mean for my little nest egg. I have about $3700 saved up since I started getting my Soc Sec last June and I'll have a little more next week. I don't want to turn around and give it all to taxes! I figure about $1500 or less will have to go to them and that will leave me with $2200 and more next week. It will be a set back but recoverable in time to buy a car when I need one. I sure hope I don't have to send more than that! I trust Mark to fix me up, he always has in the past.
I started a new blog yesterday with the intention of blogging my way into a book, The Art of Kindness. Seems that the political atmosphere of the country has taken a serious turn for the worse and now more than ever we need to pull out all the tricks to keep ourselves feeling OK. However, I was sitting here a minute ago thinking about the outcome of the coming elections and for the first time ever thinking that I should find another country to move to. Canada is too cold and may close its borders to the US and Mexico too hot. No wonder this is the land of plenty --- as Goldilocks would say, this country is just right. Surely some little town in Mexico near the ocean would work for me. But I have two income sources that may go away and then I'd be penniless in a foreign country. Sheesh! This must be the prevailing attitudes today and I can really feel it. But running away won't help. Whatever is going to go down will effect the whole world. Neither Hillary or Trump will be a good choice and there I will be again, having to choose between two evils. I just won't do it! I've never done it before and I can't start now. If Bernie isn't the guy, I'll stay home and write books about how to survive. I've known all along that the strings of the world were being pulled by an unseen few and that we would never know what goes on behind the scenes. As this election year plays out, we'll see what happens but I refuse to give in to despair about it at any point.
This is a time of cleansing and clearing and all the buried emotions that have created our world so far are being revealed to be inspected, reviewed and discarded. This is a process that must be done, must be endured in order to get to the other side. Just like a tumor hiding deep inside, it must be revealed and acknowledged before it can be healed. And like any other healing journey, attitude is everything! Do what needs to be done to keep the energy high, stay hopeful and talk to others with kindness even when they are harsh. The stress of the day is increasing to an almost unbearable degree, people will snap and break when they get scared and mean, they become hard and unbending. Find a way to remind yourself that this is not who we really are, it's simply a response to stress. Underneath it all, we are all human and all want the same things --- to feel safe and secure, loved and supported, heard and understood. Find ways to be kind.
OK, I'll work on the kindness memoir. I'll go over there now and create the first post. Wherever that paragraph above came from ... thank you. Please keep reminding me that we can do this, we can all do this if we can maintain a good attitude in the face of all this stress and worry for the future. Like Bernie says, we can do it if we stick together and don't let fear divide us.
I sat down here a half hour ago but allowed myself to go to FB first and I wasted all that time. It's another rainy day in the high desert and we're getting sick of it, the cats and me. Milo is running around flicking his tail and Rocky is disciplining him. They hardly got to go out yesterday and now today is a bust so far, too. Oh dang, I forgot to clean the litter box! Rats! brb. OK, all clean. They hate a dirty litter box. Maybe now they will calm down.
Today is shower and hair wash day and then I have my tax appointment at 3:30 this afternoon. I'm almost ready but not quite. I have about another half hour of final adding and preparing the page with the numbers to give to Mark Mosher when I get there. He's been doing my taxes for five or six years now and I only see him once a year. It's always a surprise to me how comfortable I am with him, how it feels like I know him better than I do. He must be extremely personable, that's all I can say. I'm trepidatious about the outcome of this meeting and what it will mean for my little nest egg. I have about $3700 saved up since I started getting my Soc Sec last June and I'll have a little more next week. I don't want to turn around and give it all to taxes!
I started a new blog yesterday with the intention of blogging my way into a book, The Art of Kindness. Seems that the political atmosphere of the country has taken a serious turn for the worse and now more than ever we need to pull out all the tricks to keep ourselves feeling OK. However, I was sitting here a minute ago thinking about the outcome of the coming elections and for the first time ever thinking that I should find another country to move to. Canada is too cold and may close its borders to the US and Mexico too hot. No wonder this is the land of plenty --- as Goldilocks would say, this country is just right. Surely some little town in Mexico near the ocean would work for me. But I have two income sources that may go away and then I'd be penniless in a foreign country. Sheesh! This must be the prevailing attitudes today and I can really feel it. But running away won't help. Whatever is going to go down will effect the whole world. Neither Hillary or Trump will be a good choice and there I will be again, having to choose between two evils. I just won't do it! I've never done it before and I can't start now. If Bernie isn't the guy, I'll stay home and write books about how to survive. I've known all along that the strings of the world were being pulled by an unseen few and that we would never know what goes on behind the scenes. As this election year plays out, we'll see what happens but I refuse to give in to despair about it at any point.
This is a time of cleansing and clearing and all the buried emotions that have created our world so far are being revealed to be inspected, reviewed and discarded. This is a process that must be done, must be endured in order to get to the other side. Just like a tumor hiding deep inside, it must be revealed and acknowledged before it can be healed. And like any other healing journey, attitude is everything! Do what needs to be done to keep the energy high, stay hopeful and talk to others with kindness even when they are harsh. The stress of the day is increasing to an almost unbearable degree, people will snap and break when they get scared and mean, they become hard and unbending. Find a way to remind yourself that this is not who we really are, it's simply a response to stress. Underneath it all, we are all human and all want the same things --- to feel safe and secure, loved and supported, heard and understood. Find ways to be kind.
OK, I'll work on the kindness memoir. I'll go over there now and create the first post. Wherever that paragraph above came from ... thank you. Please keep reminding me that we can do this, we can all do this if we can maintain a good attitude in the face of all this stress and worry for the future. Like Bernie says, we can do it if we stick together and don't let fear divide us.
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Mark's Birthday and Art of Kindness blog created
11:27am Writing Practice 38° Boise
I got up earlier by 45 minutes today but I have some tax work to do when I sat down here and then checked e-mails and then got on Facebook and now I'm just getting to my writing. My morning routine has expanded to include 5 minutes of SuperBrain Yoga and leg lift/twists. I have about an hour of things I do when I first get up before I ever get my coffee and sit down here. And then if anything else intrudes, it puts me that much more behind. But the tax piles are still all over the dining room table and I'm ready to get that all dealt with. I changed my tax appointment to tomorrow at 3:30 and I have my gym date at 2:30 today but I'll bet I can get those receipts all added and logged before the gym today and that will be such a relief! Just getting them all organized into piles was huge and I did that on Sunday. Back in the old days when I was married, I could never set things out like this and then leave them for days on end. I wonder why I can stand it now?
Today is Mark's birthday --- 55 years old. I drive out there yesterday and brought him scratchers and lotto tickets for the drawing later today. How fun it would be if he won something big right now! RubyAnn is leaving for 3 months to go visiting, including flying to London. Mark seems to be pretty happy about that --- he suggested a trip for he and I to Portland to see Kassy and the new baby when she arrives. Then maybe a few days at the Oregon Coast. He wants to fly over and I'll rent a car. Then we'll need a motel near Kassy and then a room at the coast. Hard to say how much a trip like that will cost. I'll have to check into it later but right now, I don't care. If Mark wants to go on a trip with me, I'm going! It might be our last trip together and I wouldn't miss it for the world.
I sure am glad I did that yesterday. I haven't really talked to him in a year. Yesterday was the one year anniversary of Gerald's memorial service in Baker and that's the last time I spent any time with Mark at all. I've left him alone all year except for the once a month ASEA delivery to Smokey's.
After seeing Mark, I went to the library downtown and asked for help with my iPad mini. I meet a librarian named Kate and sat with her at her desk area for two hours while we did all sorts of things on my mini. We got it all set up, apps installed and I now know how to access everything I need. This morning I even fixed up this blog page on the mini so that I can write with it when I'm out and about. I came home and got the mini charged and the keyboard all set and now I can use it everywhere I go if I want to. I can take it with me on trips and leave the laptop at home.
The mini has a camera and I installed that Waterlouge app that I've been hankering for and played with that last night while sitting with Kate. I really loved being there with her, playing with our computers, telling stories and sharing resources. What a lovely and personable girl she is. I want to adopt her!
Also, I had another AoK (Art of Kindness) experience yesterday that I shared on my FB wall and so many people jumped in on it and told their stories too, it occurs to me that this is the perfect time for this project to resurface, while we're in the middle of this hateful election year with Trump. What a great way to counteract his energy with the energy of small kindnesses that we all talk about and share daily. It's perfect and I'm so happy to participate in this right now. Plus, even the initials, AOK, mean is like a double thumbs up! I'm feeling pretty good about the whole thing today. Time to dust off the kindness book idea and see if it wants to play now. All these years later, after those experiences changed my life, fundamentally changed who I am, now might be perfect timing to spring it on the world and help others change. I'll continue to study suicide and write memoir but I'm also open to ideas and experiences with strangers and I'm willing to write them down. I may start a blog for the very purpose .... OK, I just created a blogspot for The Art of Kindness and checked into a domain name for artofkindnessbook.com and it's available, but I didn't buy it yet. I'm famous for buying domain names and then not using them. That can wait for right now. I'll get the blog set up and see if it wants to go somewhere.
OK, I'm hungry. Time to get off here and go eat and then add those tax receipts. Tomorrow the tax issue will be taken care of. Yaaaay!
I got up earlier by 45 minutes today but I have some tax work to do when I sat down here and then checked e-mails and then got on Facebook and now I'm just getting to my writing. My morning routine has expanded to include 5 minutes of SuperBrain Yoga and leg lift/twists. I have about an hour of things I do when I first get up before I ever get my coffee and sit down here. And then if anything else intrudes, it puts me that much more behind. But the tax piles are still all over the dining room table and I'm ready to get that all dealt with. I changed my tax appointment to tomorrow at 3:30 and I have my gym date at 2:30 today but I'll bet I can get those receipts all added and logged before the gym today and that will be such a relief! Just getting them all organized into piles was huge and I did that on Sunday. Back in the old days when I was married, I could never set things out like this and then leave them for days on end. I wonder why I can stand it now?
Today is Mark's birthday --- 55 years old. I drive out there yesterday and brought him scratchers and lotto tickets for the drawing later today. How fun it would be if he won something big right now! RubyAnn is leaving for 3 months to go visiting, including flying to London. Mark seems to be pretty happy about that --- he suggested a trip for he and I to Portland to see Kassy and the new baby when she arrives. Then maybe a few days at the Oregon Coast. He wants to fly over and I'll rent a car. Then we'll need a motel near Kassy and then a room at the coast. Hard to say how much a trip like that will cost. I'll have to check into it later but right now, I don't care. If Mark wants to go on a trip with me, I'm going! It might be our last trip together and I wouldn't miss it for the world.
I sure am glad I did that yesterday. I haven't really talked to him in a year. Yesterday was the one year anniversary of Gerald's memorial service in Baker and that's the last time I spent any time with Mark at all. I've left him alone all year except for the once a month ASEA delivery to Smokey's.
After seeing Mark, I went to the library downtown and asked for help with my iPad mini. I meet a librarian named Kate and sat with her at her desk area for two hours while we did all sorts of things on my mini. We got it all set up, apps installed and I now know how to access everything I need. This morning I even fixed up this blog page on the mini so that I can write with it when I'm out and about. I came home and got the mini charged and the keyboard all set and now I can use it everywhere I go if I want to. I can take it with me on trips and leave the laptop at home.
The mini has a camera and I installed that Waterlouge app that I've been hankering for and played with that last night while sitting with Kate. I really loved being there with her, playing with our computers, telling stories and sharing resources. What a lovely and personable girl she is. I want to adopt her!
Also, I had another AoK (Art of Kindness) experience yesterday that I shared on my FB wall and so many people jumped in on it and told their stories too, it occurs to me that this is the perfect time for this project to resurface, while we're in the middle of this hateful election year with Trump. What a great way to counteract his energy with the energy of small kindnesses that we all talk about and share daily. It's perfect and I'm so happy to participate in this right now. Plus, even the initials, AOK, mean is like a double thumbs up! I'm feeling pretty good about the whole thing today. Time to dust off the kindness book idea and see if it wants to play now. All these years later, after those experiences changed my life, fundamentally changed who I am, now might be perfect timing to spring it on the world and help others change. I'll continue to study suicide and write memoir but I'm also open to ideas and experiences with strangers and I'm willing to write them down. I may start a blog for the very purpose .... OK, I just created a blogspot for The Art of Kindness and checked into a domain name for artofkindnessbook.com and it's available, but I didn't buy it yet. I'm famous for buying domain names and then not using them. That can wait for right now. I'll get the blog set up and see if it wants to go somewhere.
OK, I'm hungry. Time to get off here and go eat and then add those tax receipts. Tomorrow the tax issue will be taken care of. Yaaaay!
Monday, March 14, 2016
Studying Suicide
11:17am Writing Practice 45° Boise
Daylight Savings Time is upon us and my body, which resists rising early anyway, has to get used to losing that hour. It may take me a week to adjust but I'll do it. By summer when its warm and I like to sit on the deck to write, I'll be getting up at 8am and sitting down to my writing by 9am, which is perfect timing for the outdoors by then. Don't know how I'll manage this typing practice outside. I'll figure something out.
I went to bed early enough last night and had the light off by a little after 11pm, but then I was awake by 1am and up reading from 2-4am. That happens to me every few weeks and I'm OK with it as long as I don't have an early morning the next day. And since I don't schedule anything for my morning but this writing, it works out fine. I end up getting enough sleep but then I get up later than I'd like. Today I woke at 9:45 and didn't get up until 10:20. I've added a 5 minute SuperBrain Yoga practice into my daily preparations and so I have quite a morning routine going now. It takes all of 50 minutes to an hour to get ready for my day and I'm surprised that I can keep it up. I'm completely ready for my day by the time I sit down here --- it gives me a feeling that I'm taking good care of myself. I like that.
I havw a stack of library books on the dining room table and three of them are about suicide. One is Waking Up, Alive and takes the journey toward suicide with different people and then the recovery from the failed attempt. This is the one I wish I'd read after Stephen's first attempt. If I had educated myself about suicide at any point in my life, I could have been an actual help to him somehow. But I think I was busy being guilty and depressed and simply couldn't rise to the occasion. Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide is another one. I read the beginnings of both of them last night while I wasn't sleeping in the middle of the night. The third one is Why People Die by Suicide. No subtitle. It probably doesn't need one.
I've been thinking of my three suicide attempts. Yes, three. The last one was thoughts and visioning it, imagining what I would do. I caught it in time and managed to not go there all the way, but I was heading in that direction and I may as well just admit it. I would like to understand why I was so willing to kill myself those three times in my life and maybe if I can understand that, I can understand what happened to Stephen.
I've written out the beginnings of the first attempt, the real one. If my mother had not caught on and if I had been left to my own devices, I would have died in my bed that day and then no one would have understood. There would have been no nervous breakdown, no move to Portland, no Bob Willems, no Nathan, no divorce and loss of Nathan, no second attempt in 1978, no move to Honolulu, no John Sandknop, no Stephen .... no third attempt in 1991. In some alternate universe, I completed that suicide and a totally different timeline is playing out.
I've been feeling weird lately. Ever since I wrote about the first attempt I've been feeling disconnected from my life. I hand wrote the last part and still haven't gotten it transcribed. This is probably why I didn't do the research into suicide to help Stephen --- it makes my feel so sad and takes me back there, hopeless. And now here I am trying to write about it, trying to face it finally, and I look around my life and wonder why the hell I'm still here. It's part of the suicide effect. That part of my life is unexamined and unresolved. I'm not sure what actually went down for any of that, it's still a mystery to me in so many ways. And my mind is trying to shuttle me away from it now, trying to protect me, keep me from going there for fear of me taking one last shot at it and maybe succeeding this time.
What I know so far is that suicide is about loss and hopelessness.
Well that was interesting. Just as I was typing that last sentence, the phone rang and it was a Facebook friend who was frantically reaching out for help with her son who is suicidal. She claimed that I'm a warrior for justice and truth with this issue and that she feels strongly that I'm meant to help with the fight to bring sanity and light to the plight of people who are depressed and can't take it anymore. How can they get the help they need when no one wants to talk about it or face the real issue. The whole thing makes me scratch my head.
I'll continue with my studies and writing and remain open to direction from my guides and from Stephen. He's dead because I didn't know what to do to help him or get him help and this mother who just called is beside herself with that same problems only her son is right there in her house and she still can't get the help she needs. What does that tell me? That even if I had gone down to LA and dragged him home, I still would have had to take some kind of action and all this time later, I haven't a clue what action to take on behalf of a suicidal person who self-medicates.
This is the pits! What shall I do?
Daylight Savings Time is upon us and my body, which resists rising early anyway, has to get used to losing that hour. It may take me a week to adjust but I'll do it. By summer when its warm and I like to sit on the deck to write, I'll be getting up at 8am and sitting down to my writing by 9am, which is perfect timing for the outdoors by then. Don't know how I'll manage this typing practice outside. I'll figure something out.
I went to bed early enough last night and had the light off by a little after 11pm, but then I was awake by 1am and up reading from 2-4am. That happens to me every few weeks and I'm OK with it as long as I don't have an early morning the next day. And since I don't schedule anything for my morning but this writing, it works out fine. I end up getting enough sleep but then I get up later than I'd like. Today I woke at 9:45 and didn't get up until 10:20. I've added a 5 minute SuperBrain Yoga practice into my daily preparations and so I have quite a morning routine going now. It takes all of 50 minutes to an hour to get ready for my day and I'm surprised that I can keep it up. I'm completely ready for my day by the time I sit down here --- it gives me a feeling that I'm taking good care of myself. I like that.
I havw a stack of library books on the dining room table and three of them are about suicide. One is Waking Up, Alive and takes the journey toward suicide with different people and then the recovery from the failed attempt. This is the one I wish I'd read after Stephen's first attempt. If I had educated myself about suicide at any point in my life, I could have been an actual help to him somehow. But I think I was busy being guilty and depressed and simply couldn't rise to the occasion. Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide is another one. I read the beginnings of both of them last night while I wasn't sleeping in the middle of the night. The third one is Why People Die by Suicide. No subtitle. It probably doesn't need one.
I've been thinking of my three suicide attempts. Yes, three. The last one was thoughts and visioning it, imagining what I would do. I caught it in time and managed to not go there all the way, but I was heading in that direction and I may as well just admit it. I would like to understand why I was so willing to kill myself those three times in my life and maybe if I can understand that, I can understand what happened to Stephen.
I've written out the beginnings of the first attempt, the real one. If my mother had not caught on and if I had been left to my own devices, I would have died in my bed that day and then no one would have understood. There would have been no nervous breakdown, no move to Portland, no Bob Willems, no Nathan, no divorce and loss of Nathan, no second attempt in 1978, no move to Honolulu, no John Sandknop, no Stephen .... no third attempt in 1991. In some alternate universe, I completed that suicide and a totally different timeline is playing out.
I've been feeling weird lately. Ever since I wrote about the first attempt I've been feeling disconnected from my life. I hand wrote the last part and still haven't gotten it transcribed. This is probably why I didn't do the research into suicide to help Stephen --- it makes my feel so sad and takes me back there, hopeless. And now here I am trying to write about it, trying to face it finally, and I look around my life and wonder why the hell I'm still here. It's part of the suicide effect. That part of my life is unexamined and unresolved. I'm not sure what actually went down for any of that, it's still a mystery to me in so many ways. And my mind is trying to shuttle me away from it now, trying to protect me, keep me from going there for fear of me taking one last shot at it and maybe succeeding this time.
What I know so far is that suicide is about loss and hopelessness.
Well that was interesting. Just as I was typing that last sentence, the phone rang and it was a Facebook friend who was frantically reaching out for help with her son who is suicidal. She claimed that I'm a warrior for justice and truth with this issue and that she feels strongly that I'm meant to help with the fight to bring sanity and light to the plight of people who are depressed and can't take it anymore. How can they get the help they need when no one wants to talk about it or face the real issue. The whole thing makes me scratch my head.
I'll continue with my studies and writing and remain open to direction from my guides and from Stephen. He's dead because I didn't know what to do to help him or get him help and this mother who just called is beside herself with that same problems only her son is right there in her house and she still can't get the help she needs. What does that tell me? That even if I had gone down to LA and dragged him home, I still would have had to take some kind of action and all this time later, I haven't a clue what action to take on behalf of a suicidal person who self-medicates.
This is the pits! What shall I do?
Friday, March 11, 2016
The Business of Healing Classes and Book Ideas
9am Writing Practice 50° Boise
Up at just the right time today. Waking at 8am, doing stretch and breathe with the ball under my neck for 20 minutes and then my morning washing up seems to be the ideal schedule ... not too early, not too late. I didn't do my washing up this morning though, it's shower day. I'll hop in the shower in a bit and get my hair all clean and pretty for the next five days.
Tomorrow is the EFT class and there's a part of me wondering what the hell I'm doing. I'm going to find out tomorrow if I really want to teach classes like that, two hour workshops on a wide range of subjects. Let's see, I have:
1) EFT Happy Tapping
2) PPT Pressure Point Technique
3) Introduction to Energy Healing
4) Mirror Mirror Workshop for Practicing Self-Love
5) Money is No Object; discovering what you really want and
getting it without winning the lottery
6) Healing Tools: micro-techniques for turning the tide on ill health
7) Laugh and Heal: the laugh-anyway method for the humor impaired
8) Wake Up Happy: 12 minutes of health training first thing each morning
And then I have the The Ultimate Health and Healing Sampler Class with three or four sections --- an immersion experience in healing. I could also teach a total energy healing workshop using the techniques and principles of Quantum-Touch. (Life Force: the energy of healing)
And in addition to all that, I could hold practice sessions and healing circles.
Well, I don't know where all that came from this morning, I wasn't even thinking any of that when I sat down here. Looking at all that right now, I realize that each on of those could be an eBook to go with a live class or stand alone. Wow, I use all of those practices and have used them or developed them for my own personal health and healing over the past 12 years. When you lay it all out like that, it all looks pretty impressive!
This is not just a weekend workshop idea, this is an outline for a total healing business plan --- if I wanted to go into the business of healing. This idea would be utilizing everything I know and have worked on, my entire focus for the past 12 years. In addition, a Healing Through Grief workshop and eBook could be developed. And a Practice Happiness book using my photographs like I do with the calendars. I could call it the School of Self-Empowered Health. A place to learn self-care and create your own road to a healthy, happy life --- without a doctor ---
Yes, that would be a terrific book to write! I could go at it from the point of view of my own story with cervical cancer and what I did about it. That title perfectly describes what I did with my life and my health back in 1999 and what I continue to do today. That experience set me up for all that I've learned and experienced since then.
When I woke up this morning none of this was on my mind. In fact, as fun as it is to write all this out, I would have to change my life completely in order to do all that. And I just heard a voice in my head say, no, just do one thing at a time, give it two years to develop, work on some of it each day and before you know it, you'll be a healing professional with a school in Boise with books to publish and sell.
So there! But do I want that life? Because that's what it is, an entire life filled with writing and teaching and healing. Do I want to write my memoir first? I have one started and one could be the basis of the book titled above. But what about Stephen's story? I've been working on his story, his life, trying to understand what happened to him, to me, to us, for over two years and I don't know if I'm even close yet. How can I just abandon all that work now?
Well, I don't have to. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. Today I've been given the gift of insight into what is possible for me, now or later. Or in addition. All it will take is the willingness to do the work on a daily basis and stop distracting myself with Facebook. In fact, I have way more to do than I could get done in one lifetime! I just went to Amazon to look for the title,
, and it's not there. In that book, I could use all the kindness stories starting with my Starlet breakdown on Braddock Road in Virginia and being rescued by Hank, the off-duty DC cop who handed me a beer from the cooler in the front seat of his beat-up white pickup truck and told me not to try that in my car, to all the experiential stuff I did for six years and how it all changed my life and my attitude. Even through all my anger and grief the past few years, I've been able to maintain a baseline of kindness through it all. For the most part ....
Well, this has been quite the writing session this morning. My SuperBrain Yoga must be kicking in! I haven't been this prolific with ideas in a while! And all I have to do is keep this page handy as an outline for my future and sit down every day and work on some part of it.
The EFT Happy Tapping class tomorrow is the beginning, if I choose to think of it that way. And now I have to go flesh out that class so that I know what I'm doing. I'll do it on a separate sheet and add it to the Workshop Files.
Good day with writing practice today. Thank you!
Up at just the right time today. Waking at 8am, doing stretch and breathe with the ball under my neck for 20 minutes and then my morning washing up seems to be the ideal schedule ... not too early, not too late. I didn't do my washing up this morning though, it's shower day. I'll hop in the shower in a bit and get my hair all clean and pretty for the next five days.
Tomorrow is the EFT class and there's a part of me wondering what the hell I'm doing. I'm going to find out tomorrow if I really want to teach classes like that, two hour workshops on a wide range of subjects. Let's see, I have:
1) EFT Happy Tapping
2) PPT Pressure Point Technique
3) Introduction to Energy Healing
4) Mirror Mirror Workshop for Practicing Self-Love
5) Money is No Object; discovering what you really want and
getting it without winning the lottery
6) Healing Tools: micro-techniques for turning the tide on ill health
7) Laugh and Heal: the laugh-anyway method for the humor impaired
8) Wake Up Happy: 12 minutes of health training first thing each morning
And then I have the The Ultimate Health and Healing Sampler Class with three or four sections --- an immersion experience in healing. I could also teach a total energy healing workshop using the techniques and principles of Quantum-Touch. (Life Force: the energy of healing)
And in addition to all that, I could hold practice sessions and healing circles.
Well, I don't know where all that came from this morning, I wasn't even thinking any of that when I sat down here. Looking at all that right now, I realize that each on of those could be an eBook to go with a live class or stand alone. Wow, I use all of those practices and have used them or developed them for my own personal health and healing over the past 12 years. When you lay it all out like that, it all looks pretty impressive!
This is not just a weekend workshop idea, this is an outline for a total healing business plan --- if I wanted to go into the business of healing. This idea would be utilizing everything I know and have worked on, my entire focus for the past 12 years. In addition, a Healing Through Grief workshop and eBook could be developed. And a Practice Happiness book using my photographs like I do with the calendars. I could call it the School of Self-Empowered Health. A place to learn self-care and create your own road to a healthy, happy life --- without a doctor ---
Create a Healthy Life in Spite of Your Doctor:
Release the Chains of the Modern Medical Paradigm
and Take Responsibility for Your Own Health
Yes, that would be a terrific book to write! I could go at it from the point of view of my own story with cervical cancer and what I did about it. That title perfectly describes what I did with my life and my health back in 1999 and what I continue to do today. That experience set me up for all that I've learned and experienced since then.
When I woke up this morning none of this was on my mind. In fact, as fun as it is to write all this out, I would have to change my life completely in order to do all that. And I just heard a voice in my head say, no, just do one thing at a time, give it two years to develop, work on some of it each day and before you know it, you'll be a healing professional with a school in Boise with books to publish and sell.
So there! But do I want that life? Because that's what it is, an entire life filled with writing and teaching and healing. Do I want to write my memoir first? I have one started and one could be the basis of the book titled above. But what about Stephen's story? I've been working on his story, his life, trying to understand what happened to him, to me, to us, for over two years and I don't know if I'm even close yet. How can I just abandon all that work now?
Well, I don't have to. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. Today I've been given the gift of insight into what is possible for me, now or later. Or in addition. All it will take is the willingness to do the work on a daily basis and stop distracting myself with Facebook. In fact, I have way more to do than I could get done in one lifetime! I just went to Amazon to look for the title,
The Art of Kindness:
How to be Kind and Stay Soft in a Hard, Cruel World
, and it's not there. In that book, I could use all the kindness stories starting with my Starlet breakdown on Braddock Road in Virginia and being rescued by Hank, the off-duty DC cop who handed me a beer from the cooler in the front seat of his beat-up white pickup truck and told me not to try that in my car, to all the experiential stuff I did for six years and how it all changed my life and my attitude. Even through all my anger and grief the past few years, I've been able to maintain a baseline of kindness through it all. For the most part ....
Well, this has been quite the writing session this morning. My SuperBrain Yoga must be kicking in! I haven't been this prolific with ideas in a while! And all I have to do is keep this page handy as an outline for my future and sit down every day and work on some part of it.
The EFT Happy Tapping class tomorrow is the beginning, if I choose to think of it that way. And now I have to go flesh out that class so that I know what I'm doing. I'll do it on a separate sheet and add it to the Workshop Files.
Good day with writing practice today. Thank you!
Thursday, March 10, 2016
EFT workshop, March 12
10:55am Writing Practice 58° Boise
I'm very late today. I couldn't get to sleep last night, had to take an little extra piece of sleep aid and read for a bit and by the time I turned off the light again it was almost 2am. For all that, I feel pretty good though.
I have students for the EFT workshop in two days. I think I have 9 people coming and I hope I have room for everyone in Midge's little space there on Kootenai. It should work, it's cozy and she has the kitchenette right there. I may make a little money on this one and maybe even find a way to do follow-ups, private coaching at my studio.
Today I have to go to the studio and find all my EFT materials and begin to go over all of it, make sure I have handouts if I have any and prepare the class outline for my teaching aid. I'll also watch a few videos to refresh my memory and make sure I know what I'm talking about. EFT training is the low hanging fruit as far as classes go. I would love to teach one about every six weeks. And it would be terrific to be able to make $500 to $800 every month from teaching and coaching. I could really save up for a car that way.
The last few days I've been quiet and relaxed, willing to sit here on FB without too much thought about anything at all. No memoir writing, no transcribing. I think of scenes that I could write or begin to write or at least add to a list. That's what I ought to do --- make a list of scenes that I'd like to write and have that ready to work on, like having a box of quilt scraps that I can piece together when I get time in the evenings, in front of the TV. But now as I sit here ready to type up the list, my mind is a blank. I often have scenes flash through my mind like a slide show on my laptop. I enjoy those so much! They remind me that I have experienced much and that I have so much to write about and talk about inside me. I need to remember that on days like today.
Really, the only issue with today is that I have to begin to prepare for the workshop and I really won't be in memoir-mode until after that is finished. That's only 48 hours from now, I can afford the time.
OK, I'm off ...
I'm very late today. I couldn't get to sleep last night, had to take an little extra piece of sleep aid and read for a bit and by the time I turned off the light again it was almost 2am. For all that, I feel pretty good though.
I have students for the EFT workshop in two days. I think I have 9 people coming and I hope I have room for everyone in Midge's little space there on Kootenai. It should work, it's cozy and she has the kitchenette right there. I may make a little money on this one and maybe even find a way to do follow-ups, private coaching at my studio.
Today I have to go to the studio and find all my EFT materials and begin to go over all of it, make sure I have handouts if I have any and prepare the class outline for my teaching aid. I'll also watch a few videos to refresh my memory and make sure I know what I'm talking about. EFT training is the low hanging fruit as far as classes go. I would love to teach one about every six weeks. And it would be terrific to be able to make $500 to $800 every month from teaching and coaching. I could really save up for a car that way.
The last few days I've been quiet and relaxed, willing to sit here on FB without too much thought about anything at all. No memoir writing, no transcribing. I think of scenes that I could write or begin to write or at least add to a list. That's what I ought to do --- make a list of scenes that I'd like to write and have that ready to work on, like having a box of quilt scraps that I can piece together when I get time in the evenings, in front of the TV. But now as I sit here ready to type up the list, my mind is a blank. I often have scenes flash through my mind like a slide show on my laptop. I enjoy those so much! They remind me that I have experienced much and that I have so much to write about and talk about inside me. I need to remember that on days like today.
Really, the only issue with today is that I have to begin to prepare for the workshop and I really won't be in memoir-mode until after that is finished. That's only 48 hours from now, I can afford the time.
OK, I'm off ...
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
Purses, Cars and Identity
9:30am Writing Practice 44° Boise
What a trip that was yesterday. I ran out of here late after having packed the car with all the stuff I'd been collecting on the back table, backed down the driveway to leave, then pulled back in to go the the bathroom. Then I dashed off down the road 20 minutes late and determined to make up the time by flying along at 80 mph. It wasn't until I stopped briefly to pee at Weatherby that I noticed that I didn't have my purse with me. Yep, for the first time in my life, I ran off without my purse on an all day trip out of town.
I sat in my car at the rest area stunned and vibrating with the shock of it. I had had an inkling that I was going to do that as I was packing, that feeling washed over me of not having an identity. I went through a phase that felt just like that so often in 1998 just before I realized that I had to leave John, that our marriage had to end. I had dreams of losing my purse and being frantic and feeling so lost. I worried about that a lot at the time and yesterday that same feeling washed over me as I was packing the car. Before I ran off without my purse. What could it mean this time?
In the past few years, my purses have gotten smaller to the point that all I carry now is a wallet on a strap. I no longer carry around a bunch of items that I 'might' need but had really just been giving me something to put in a purse so that I wouldn't be lugging around an empty bag. I often have to check to make sure that the light wallet is still hanging there on my shoulder, I can barely feel it most of the time. Someone could easily cut the strap and it would fall away without me even noticing and I worry about that. Seems like I'm always checking to make sure I didn't forget my purse or lose it somewhere. And then yesterday I ran off without it.
Could I be going through another identity crisis now, since Stephen died? Am I finally realizing that John isn't coming home and neither is Stephen, that I'm sitting here in this house maintaining a home for them when they are both lost to me? A part of me feels the truth of this. I'm readjusting myself and who I think I am. In fact, as I typed that, I remember saying that out loud a few days ago while in my car, "Who the fuck am I?" I have lightened up on who I thought I was and now I must be ready to accept a new identity --- at least the inner me is ready, it seems. I still don't know.
Also, looking at cars brings up the same question. A car reflects who we think we are and how we feel about ourselves, at least unconsciously. I had VWs for the first few cars of my adulthood. I had my orange bug that I bought with Bob's tax refund in 1973; it was my first real car. Then he and I had a VW van and then a little red fastback when we lived in LaGrande. Then he and I bought a brand new Toyota Celica wagon in 1975. A family car. I traded that one for a little Checy Luv pickup truck in 1980, then sold it before moving to Hawaii. When I got back, I leased a new Toyota Starlet in 1981, just before I drove to California to move in with John. It was a two door hatchback with no air and was a bone of contention until we finally sold it in 1987. Then I sold our Oldsmobile Brougham for a Ford Bronco II when we lived in Burke, 1985; it was a brand new rig. Then in Florida we traded it for a new Ford Aerostar van in 1987. I loved that van! We drove it to Alameda in 1990 and then traded it for a Oldsmobile Bravada in 1992, just before we moved to Great Lakes, Illinois. That rig felt so big and clunky in the traffic and with the distances I had to drive back then, so I went out looking for a Plymouth Neon, a zippy little car, and found my Grand Am in 1994. That was 22 years ago and my identity hasn't changed since then. But now I've been looking at new cars seriously and it's causing a shifting inside of me, a slipping. I've been feeling dizzy the last few days; sometimes I have to hang on to something when I stand up from laying down as the world whirls around in my head and adjusts. It's unnerving.
Sybil, my red Grand Am, has anchored me and kept me steady for a very long time. She was our family car, we went on trips together. Rodeo rode in that car with me and then took her last ride in it to the vets the day she had to go big night night in 1997. Stephen grew up in that car ... he was 11 years old when I bought it. He and I went on many trips together in that car. So many of my memories of being his mother are tied up there. But I'm going to keep it, I'm not letting it go, I'm just going to add a car to my life, a newer one. But I guess the very idea of buying a new car is upsetting my inner vision of who I think I am, making me reexamine myself, imagine who I want to be next and what kind of vehicle that person needs to drive. How do I see myself and who do I imagine I'm becoming?
Do I want a pickup truck? Another van? An SUV? A Fiat? A sensible car with low miles and a good price that doesn't inspire me? (I saw a silver Kia a few days ago, a 2006, great mileage, clean and neat and only $6000. I told the salesman, Mitch, that I wished I wanted it.) I can tell that deciding on this new car is going to change me somehow, fundamentally. It's going to affect my finances and I'll now have two vehicles to care for, insure and keep clean. But it will also change how I see myself, I how feel about myself, in a way the moving and changes houses never has. Cars are more personal than homes, it seems, more like body armor that one wears, not just a way to get around. Cars are personal in the same way clothes are personal, only more so.
No matter what vehicle I buy next, it will take me away from who I've been for the past 22 years --- John's wife, Stephen's mother, an independent single woman still involved with family, still maintaining relationships that are no longer there. Time to let them go so that new relationships can form if they want to. When I step away from Sybil, I step away from who I thought I was, who I really was for a time and can no longer be. When that car goes away, it will be like losing Stephen all over again ... and my mother and dad, Granny, Auntie Jan, Gerald. Sybil cradled me through all those losses, comforted me, was a witness to my wailing and screaming grief after Stephen died. Sometimes, that car feels like my only family, the rock that I've built my life around. She's been with me through it all, 251,000 miles. The only other relationships I've had longer were my parents and Stephen. Always it comes back to Stephen.
Last night on Glee, the last episode of Season One, the last song was Over the Rainbow and I sat here and cried, imagining my little boy dressed as Dorothy with his basket and a little stuffed dog running around the house in Burke, skipping. He was somewhere between age two and three (we moved into the house in Orange Park on his third birthday, 1986) and he was completely adorable, filled with light and creative ideas already.
I would give anything to change what happened to him, change into someone who was a better mother. No matter what car I drive, I will never be able to be that and it breaks my heart.
What a trip that was yesterday. I ran out of here late after having packed the car with all the stuff I'd been collecting on the back table, backed down the driveway to leave, then pulled back in to go the the bathroom. Then I dashed off down the road 20 minutes late and determined to make up the time by flying along at 80 mph. It wasn't until I stopped briefly to pee at Weatherby that I noticed that I didn't have my purse with me. Yep, for the first time in my life, I ran off without my purse on an all day trip out of town.
I sat in my car at the rest area stunned and vibrating with the shock of it. I had had an inkling that I was going to do that as I was packing, that feeling washed over me of not having an identity. I went through a phase that felt just like that so often in 1998 just before I realized that I had to leave John, that our marriage had to end. I had dreams of losing my purse and being frantic and feeling so lost. I worried about that a lot at the time and yesterday that same feeling washed over me as I was packing the car. Before I ran off without my purse. What could it mean this time?
In the past few years, my purses have gotten smaller to the point that all I carry now is a wallet on a strap. I no longer carry around a bunch of items that I 'might' need but had really just been giving me something to put in a purse so that I wouldn't be lugging around an empty bag. I often have to check to make sure that the light wallet is still hanging there on my shoulder, I can barely feel it most of the time. Someone could easily cut the strap and it would fall away without me even noticing and I worry about that. Seems like I'm always checking to make sure I didn't forget my purse or lose it somewhere. And then yesterday I ran off without it.
Could I be going through another identity crisis now, since Stephen died? Am I finally realizing that John isn't coming home and neither is Stephen, that I'm sitting here in this house maintaining a home for them when they are both lost to me? A part of me feels the truth of this. I'm readjusting myself and who I think I am. In fact, as I typed that, I remember saying that out loud a few days ago while in my car, "Who the fuck am I?" I have lightened up on who I thought I was and now I must be ready to accept a new identity --- at least the inner me is ready, it seems. I still don't know.
Also, looking at cars brings up the same question. A car reflects who we think we are and how we feel about ourselves, at least unconsciously. I had VWs for the first few cars of my adulthood. I had my orange bug that I bought with Bob's tax refund in 1973; it was my first real car. Then he and I had a VW van and then a little red fastback when we lived in LaGrande. Then he and I bought a brand new Toyota Celica wagon in 1975. A family car. I traded that one for a little Checy Luv pickup truck in 1980, then sold it before moving to Hawaii. When I got back, I leased a new Toyota Starlet in 1981, just before I drove to California to move in with John. It was a two door hatchback with no air and was a bone of contention until we finally sold it in 1987. Then I sold our Oldsmobile Brougham for a Ford Bronco II when we lived in Burke, 1985; it was a brand new rig. Then in Florida we traded it for a new Ford Aerostar van in 1987. I loved that van! We drove it to Alameda in 1990 and then traded it for a Oldsmobile Bravada in 1992, just before we moved to Great Lakes, Illinois. That rig felt so big and clunky in the traffic and with the distances I had to drive back then, so I went out looking for a Plymouth Neon, a zippy little car, and found my Grand Am in 1994. That was 22 years ago and my identity hasn't changed since then. But now I've been looking at new cars seriously and it's causing a shifting inside of me, a slipping. I've been feeling dizzy the last few days; sometimes I have to hang on to something when I stand up from laying down as the world whirls around in my head and adjusts. It's unnerving.
Sybil, my red Grand Am, has anchored me and kept me steady for a very long time. She was our family car, we went on trips together. Rodeo rode in that car with me and then took her last ride in it to the vets the day she had to go big night night in 1997. Stephen grew up in that car ... he was 11 years old when I bought it. He and I went on many trips together in that car. So many of my memories of being his mother are tied up there. But I'm going to keep it, I'm not letting it go, I'm just going to add a car to my life, a newer one. But I guess the very idea of buying a new car is upsetting my inner vision of who I think I am, making me reexamine myself, imagine who I want to be next and what kind of vehicle that person needs to drive. How do I see myself and who do I imagine I'm becoming?
Do I want a pickup truck? Another van? An SUV? A Fiat? A sensible car with low miles and a good price that doesn't inspire me? (I saw a silver Kia a few days ago, a 2006, great mileage, clean and neat and only $6000. I told the salesman, Mitch, that I wished I wanted it.) I can tell that deciding on this new car is going to change me somehow, fundamentally. It's going to affect my finances and I'll now have two vehicles to care for, insure and keep clean. But it will also change how I see myself, I how feel about myself, in a way the moving and changes houses never has. Cars are more personal than homes, it seems, more like body armor that one wears, not just a way to get around. Cars are personal in the same way clothes are personal, only more so.
No matter what vehicle I buy next, it will take me away from who I've been for the past 22 years --- John's wife, Stephen's mother, an independent single woman still involved with family, still maintaining relationships that are no longer there. Time to let them go so that new relationships can form if they want to. When I step away from Sybil, I step away from who I thought I was, who I really was for a time and can no longer be. When that car goes away, it will be like losing Stephen all over again ... and my mother and dad, Granny, Auntie Jan, Gerald. Sybil cradled me through all those losses, comforted me, was a witness to my wailing and screaming grief after Stephen died. Sometimes, that car feels like my only family, the rock that I've built my life around. She's been with me through it all, 251,000 miles. The only other relationships I've had longer were my parents and Stephen. Always it comes back to Stephen.
Last night on Glee, the last episode of Season One, the last song was Over the Rainbow and I sat here and cried, imagining my little boy dressed as Dorothy with his basket and a little stuffed dog running around the house in Burke, skipping. He was somewhere between age two and three (we moved into the house in Orange Park on his third birthday, 1986) and he was completely adorable, filled with light and creative ideas already.
I would give anything to change what happened to him, change into someone who was a better mother. No matter what car I drive, I will never be able to be that and it breaks my heart.
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Random post
8:30am Writing Practice 37° Boise
The cats are out in this cold morning but the sun is shinning and it promises to be a nice day. I'm going to drive to Baker today and meet with the reunion committee, Debi Koller and Paula Taylor, at the Geiser Grand at 11am. We'll go over the reunion plans and decide some stuff and then have lunch. I'll have an egg before I go so I can hold out but no big breakfast for me today. And then at 1pm I'll sit in on Ray's one year review out at Step Forward. Afterward I'll offer to take him to Dairy Queen for a treat and then I go to Evy Sue's house and check on her cat, Rocket. Not sure he's going to make it even with all the colloidal silver and energy work. I should have put him on the healers list but I didn't. Today I'll see how he's doing and run energy right on him, see how he responds to that. Then she will follow me out to Kay's ranch where we will the baby goats. I'll take my camera.
This will be a big day, filled to the brim with people, animals and activities. I slept fine but not sure if I slept enough. I woke at 5:15, got my ASEA, peed, and then never quite got back to sleep. I must have dozed though, the time went fast and I was comfortable, for the most part. I won't get home until late and I will try to stop at Walmart on the way home for the groceries on my list. I hope I have energy for that. I'll be lucky to be back here by 9pm.
Yesterday I packed up and headed for the studio but got waylaid by the idea of a new car and drove out Fairview to check out the dealerships and see what cars they had. I sat in a few, talked to some salesmen but didn't fall in love. I still like the Fiat best. It's the only one that covers all the bases and fits my bike rack and get's great gas mileage and will take me into the future with a 5 speed transmission that can be flat towed behind an RV. Trouble is, I don't know how much I'm going to have to pay in taxes, how much of my stash will go away. I'll need a down payment of at least $2000. Right now that only leaves me with $1900 and maybe a little more after April 1st. Minus the $300 I have to leave in the account to hold it open. So hopefully I won't owe more that that. I've been saving all year and with the new debt consolidation I'm doing, I'll be able to save even more. I may be ready by June or July. There was a used Fiat, a 2013, red, available yesterday for under $10k. I wanted a blue one or a yellow one or even maybe a white one. Not another red car. But we'll see what happens when the time comes. I'm pretty sure I'm going to buy a new car soon, that's all I know for sure. And I'm keeping Sybil for now. I'm not ready to let her go yet. That was our car, the family car, Stephen and I spend many thousands of miles in that car. Gonna keep it a while longer, for now.
So I wrote out all the pill-popping part from 1971 suicide attempt by hand and have yet to transcribe it. Dang! I don't have a job and lord knows I don't clean house! What do I do all day? There just aren't enough hours in the day to suit me. Or I'm busy doing a whole lot of not much. That's probably the case, more than anything. But I really am looking forward to getting that typed up and put with the rest of the story and see how it reads and what needs to be added or taken away. As soon as I collapse onto my bed after taking all those pills in one big gulp, I want to begin the flashbacks ... but how much to tell? Should I go back to my first memory, trying to make pancakes for Gerald and I? How am I going to weave that religion into my dysfunctional family? Donna has to be in it and so does Louie Kingman and he's not going to like that. Tough. What can anyone do about it now after all these years? And I wasn't his student anymore when I finally got him into bed. Poor guy, he didn't stand a chance. But that was much later ... or a month later. July something, toward the end of the month. I'm surprised that I didn't write it down, the date that I lost my virginity to my great love, Louie Kingman. I was so mentally ill, it's hard to think of any of this now.
That's all for now. I have to finish getting ready and get on the road. These trips are good for me, I need to get out and about sometimes. yay
The cats are out in this cold morning but the sun is shinning and it promises to be a nice day. I'm going to drive to Baker today and meet with the reunion committee, Debi Koller and Paula Taylor, at the Geiser Grand at 11am. We'll go over the reunion plans and decide some stuff and then have lunch. I'll have an egg before I go so I can hold out but no big breakfast for me today. And then at 1pm I'll sit in on Ray's one year review out at Step Forward. Afterward I'll offer to take him to Dairy Queen for a treat and then I go to Evy Sue's house and check on her cat, Rocket. Not sure he's going to make it even with all the colloidal silver and energy work. I should have put him on the healers list but I didn't. Today I'll see how he's doing and run energy right on him, see how he responds to that. Then she will follow me out to Kay's ranch where we will the baby goats. I'll take my camera.
This will be a big day, filled to the brim with people, animals and activities. I slept fine but not sure if I slept enough. I woke at 5:15, got my ASEA, peed, and then never quite got back to sleep. I must have dozed though, the time went fast and I was comfortable, for the most part. I won't get home until late and I will try to stop at Walmart on the way home for the groceries on my list. I hope I have energy for that. I'll be lucky to be back here by 9pm.
Yesterday I packed up and headed for the studio but got waylaid by the idea of a new car and drove out Fairview to check out the dealerships and see what cars they had. I sat in a few, talked to some salesmen but didn't fall in love. I still like the Fiat best. It's the only one that covers all the bases and fits my bike rack and get's great gas mileage and will take me into the future with a 5 speed transmission that can be flat towed behind an RV. Trouble is, I don't know how much I'm going to have to pay in taxes, how much of my stash will go away. I'll need a down payment of at least $2000. Right now that only leaves me with $1900 and maybe a little more after April 1st. Minus the $300 I have to leave in the account to hold it open. So hopefully I won't owe more that that. I've been saving all year and with the new debt consolidation I'm doing, I'll be able to save even more. I may be ready by June or July. There was a used Fiat, a 2013, red, available yesterday for under $10k. I wanted a blue one or a yellow one or even maybe a white one. Not another red car. But we'll see what happens when the time comes. I'm pretty sure I'm going to buy a new car soon, that's all I know for sure. And I'm keeping Sybil for now. I'm not ready to let her go yet. That was our car, the family car, Stephen and I spend many thousands of miles in that car. Gonna keep it a while longer, for now.
So I wrote out all the pill-popping part from 1971 suicide attempt by hand and have yet to transcribe it. Dang! I don't have a job and lord knows I don't clean house! What do I do all day? There just aren't enough hours in the day to suit me. Or I'm busy doing a whole lot of not much. That's probably the case, more than anything. But I really am looking forward to getting that typed up and put with the rest of the story and see how it reads and what needs to be added or taken away. As soon as I collapse onto my bed after taking all those pills in one big gulp, I want to begin the flashbacks ... but how much to tell? Should I go back to my first memory, trying to make pancakes for Gerald and I? How am I going to weave that religion into my dysfunctional family? Donna has to be in it and so does Louie Kingman and he's not going to like that. Tough. What can anyone do about it now after all these years? And I wasn't his student anymore when I finally got him into bed. Poor guy, he didn't stand a chance. But that was much later ... or a month later. July something, toward the end of the month. I'm surprised that I didn't write it down, the date that I lost my virginity to my great love, Louie Kingman. I was so mentally ill, it's hard to think of any of this now.
Monday, March 7, 2016
Short Random Post
9:17am Writing Practice 44° Boise
This morning while lying in bed with my therapy ball under my neck, I had a horrible dizzy attack. The world went all sideways and my stomach lurched and I sat up real quick until it settled and then laid back down. And it came again, swirling around me like a kaleidoscope in action and then settling down. I laid there for a bit with my hand under my neck wondering what was causing it. My ears, I decided. I need to clean out my ears again, they feel a little stuffy. Finally I sat up to get up and was slammed yet again with the swirling dizzies and it receded but even now I can feel the slight threat of their return. It's a bit unnerving. This is a first and I hope it doesn't last!
I woke up with a book title screaming in my head. Well, maybe not screaming but insistent: Where the Red Fern Grows. I remembered that Stephen read that book in 3nd grade at the school off base in Alameda when we lived on San Diego Rd, 1991-92. As I woke and thought of the book, the first thing that flashed through my mind was Tucker, Wally's brother. Then I remembered that I read the book too, and found it so sad and bittersweet ... maybe Stephen wants me to read it again. Perhaps there's something in the book that I need to see or revisit in order to...
I wrote in my journal with a pen over the weekend and I got six pages on Saturday with more story of my first suicide attempt. Now I need to take it to the studio and transcribe it with my headphones and speech recognition program. I have a whole bunch of things to transcribe in my journals but that's the only relevant one for right now.
Excerpt from an article about suicide:
(The person was not jumping from the building to die, but rather to escape the intense and consuming flames. Nobody would accuse that person of being selfish or of giving up on life.
This morning while lying in bed with my therapy ball under my neck, I had a horrible dizzy attack. The world went all sideways and my stomach lurched and I sat up real quick until it settled and then laid back down. And it came again, swirling around me like a kaleidoscope in action and then settling down. I laid there for a bit with my hand under my neck wondering what was causing it. My ears, I decided. I need to clean out my ears again, they feel a little stuffy. Finally I sat up to get up and was slammed yet again with the swirling dizzies and it receded but even now I can feel the slight threat of their return. It's a bit unnerving. This is a first and I hope it doesn't last!
I woke up with a book title screaming in my head. Well, maybe not screaming but insistent: Where the Red Fern Grows. I remembered that Stephen read that book in 3nd grade at the school off base in Alameda when we lived on San Diego Rd, 1991-92. As I woke and thought of the book, the first thing that flashed through my mind was Tucker, Wally's brother. Then I remembered that I read the book too, and found it so sad and bittersweet ... maybe Stephen wants me to read it again. Perhaps there's something in the book that I need to see or revisit in order to...
I wrote in my journal with a pen over the weekend and I got six pages on Saturday with more story of my first suicide attempt. Now I need to take it to the studio and transcribe it with my headphones and speech recognition program. I have a whole bunch of things to transcribe in my journals but that's the only relevant one for right now.
Excerpt from an article about suicide:
(The person was not jumping from the building to die, but rather to escape the intense and consuming flames. Nobody would accuse that person of being selfish or of giving up on life.
Jay was inside a figurative burning building and he
happened upon an exit. His deep need to survive caused him to take it.
Many who turn to suicide are in physical, emotional or spiritual pain.
I don’t think they seek death. Instead, they seek escape, so that
their identity and intelligence can survive.)
Friday, March 4, 2016
Getting to the Pill Popping Part
9:36am Writing Practice 46° Boise
Yesterday I got two more paragraphs written on my Leaving Home scene. I added some detail and then read it out loud and I like it! It will do for a start. As for structure, I figure if I can get to the pill popping part, then I can lay down on my bed, on the blue and white floral bedspread in my pretty bedroom with the bay window, and while I wait for the pills to take effect and before my mother comes up to talk to me, I'll wander around in the past and see what's there and why I would do such a thing. I'll tell the story of my life up till then.
I was such a tomboy, fearless and alive in so many ways and yet I longed to be a real girl and wear pretty clothes and have people love me. I climbed trees and played in the dirt, examined bugs from every angle and made sure I was the toughest and the fastest of all the kids at school. And as much as I want to write about that part today, I'll go ahead and continue with my last day at home. With only four paragraphs, I have a long way to go to get to the pills.
I had that silly car, an English Ford with a flathead four engine, whatever that was. It was dull red and tall with a narrow wheel base and it was boxy. It always felt like it would tip over on a corner and it used a quart of oil a day. Cousin Connie drove it while I was in Portland for two weeks later that
summer and let it run out of oil and the engine froze up. I was still so sick and depressed, I couldn't muster up the energy to care too much --- no one in town could work on that engine anyway, before or after it froze. So I went back to a bicycle.
But I'm getting ahead of myself again. That day, being warm and me being active, I wore a t-shirt of some kind and a little pair of shorts. I was barefoot, running up and down the front staircase with my boxes and the items I had decided to take with me. I was tiny back then but I didn't know it. I may have weighed 112 lbs at that time; I seldom ate. I was chronically depressed and never talked to anyone. I had been like that for months, maybe a whole year, and yet no one noticed. And on that day, even with all that activity, no one noticed me packing up my car. I had been at it for hours and everything I owned or valued was in the car by mid-afternoon.
Finally, Dad must have seen the suspicious activity out at my car parked at the curb in front of the house and he met me in the foyer on my last run loading. He looked over my shoulder at my obviously jam-packed car and then at me, slightly sweaty and a little breathless, barefoot, keys in hand, and asked me what I was doing. I said simply, "I'm going now." I didn't know how to tell him that I was moving out which is why I hadn't brought it up before. I can still see the looks that poured across his face as he stood there glancing from me to the car --- confusion and then suspicion turned to insight and finally, the look I dreaded: anger. He demanded to know where I thought I was going and I stammered, not wanting to tell him, but I finally choked out that I was going to stay with Auntie Jan for a while. He wanted to know why and all I could say is, "I can't stay here anymore."
Well that did it. He demanded that I hand over the keys and informed me that I wasn't going anywhere. The moment that I needed to be strong and stand up to him came and went. I held out the keys, powerless, and again said, "I have to go." His face was red by then, his anger big, filling the foyer and almost knocking me backward. He lashed out verbally and informed me that if I was leaving, I could go with the clothes on my back.
I've never written any of this down before, not in any detail. There's still plenty of emotional power here ... Just now, I welled up and asked him to forgive me for telling, saying that it has to be told now in order to understand and maybe help others to understand. I realize how much I love him, still, and how I came to get to know him somewhat but not really knowing him at all. He's still a mystery to me, even now. I would never do or say anything that would hurt him or embarrass him. And yet I have to tell this story. Dad, I hope you understand that no matter what I say or how it comes out, I love you dearly and I always will!
This is my story to tell and while there are others populating it, it's really not about them, it's about me and how I learned and grew and discovered myself. I'm sorry that my parents where so clueless and that even after they got a clue, they were still so unwilling to help me. I guess that's the part that hurts the worst. In the big picture, that's what I tried so hard to do better with --- listening to my sons and helping in any way I could. I tried to do for them what my parents had been unwilling or unable to do for me.
And yet I still feel like such a failure! At the end of my life, I can go out with a wail ... But I tried to be better! Like Stephen passionately telling me when he was five, "I'm trying to be good, mama!"
Oh, that just breaks my heart. How many of us in how many generations have said just those words to adults who were too broken to hear them? My mother, Stephen and me, for sure, but who else?
Yesterday I got two more paragraphs written on my Leaving Home scene. I added some detail and then read it out loud and I like it! It will do for a start. As for structure, I figure if I can get to the pill popping part, then I can lay down on my bed, on the blue and white floral bedspread in my pretty bedroom with the bay window, and while I wait for the pills to take effect and before my mother comes up to talk to me, I'll wander around in the past and see what's there and why I would do such a thing. I'll tell the story of my life up till then.
I was such a tomboy, fearless and alive in so many ways and yet I longed to be a real girl and wear pretty clothes and have people love me. I climbed trees and played in the dirt, examined bugs from every angle and made sure I was the toughest and the fastest of all the kids at school. And as much as I want to write about that part today, I'll go ahead and continue with my last day at home. With only four paragraphs, I have a long way to go to get to the pills.
I had that silly car, an English Ford with a flathead four engine, whatever that was. It was dull red and tall with a narrow wheel base and it was boxy. It always felt like it would tip over on a corner and it used a quart of oil a day. Cousin Connie drove it while I was in Portland for two weeks later that
But I'm getting ahead of myself again. That day, being warm and me being active, I wore a t-shirt of some kind and a little pair of shorts. I was barefoot, running up and down the front staircase with my boxes and the items I had decided to take with me. I was tiny back then but I didn't know it. I may have weighed 112 lbs at that time; I seldom ate. I was chronically depressed and never talked to anyone. I had been like that for months, maybe a whole year, and yet no one noticed. And on that day, even with all that activity, no one noticed me packing up my car. I had been at it for hours and everything I owned or valued was in the car by mid-afternoon.
Finally, Dad must have seen the suspicious activity out at my car parked at the curb in front of the house and he met me in the foyer on my last run loading. He looked over my shoulder at my obviously jam-packed car and then at me, slightly sweaty and a little breathless, barefoot, keys in hand, and asked me what I was doing. I said simply, "I'm going now." I didn't know how to tell him that I was moving out which is why I hadn't brought it up before. I can still see the looks that poured across his face as he stood there glancing from me to the car --- confusion and then suspicion turned to insight and finally, the look I dreaded: anger. He demanded to know where I thought I was going and I stammered, not wanting to tell him, but I finally choked out that I was going to stay with Auntie Jan for a while. He wanted to know why and all I could say is, "I can't stay here anymore."
Well that did it. He demanded that I hand over the keys and informed me that I wasn't going anywhere. The moment that I needed to be strong and stand up to him came and went. I held out the keys, powerless, and again said, "I have to go." His face was red by then, his anger big, filling the foyer and almost knocking me backward. He lashed out verbally and informed me that if I was leaving, I could go with the clothes on my back.
I've never written any of this down before, not in any detail. There's still plenty of emotional power here ... Just now, I welled up and asked him to forgive me for telling, saying that it has to be told now in order to understand and maybe help others to understand. I realize how much I love him, still, and how I came to get to know him somewhat but not really knowing him at all. He's still a mystery to me, even now. I would never do or say anything that would hurt him or embarrass him. And yet I have to tell this story. Dad, I hope you understand that no matter what I say or how it comes out, I love you dearly and I always will!
This is my story to tell and while there are others populating it, it's really not about them, it's about me and how I learned and grew and discovered myself. I'm sorry that my parents where so clueless and that even after they got a clue, they were still so unwilling to help me. I guess that's the part that hurts the worst. In the big picture, that's what I tried so hard to do better with --- listening to my sons and helping in any way I could. I tried to do for them what my parents had been unwilling or unable to do for me.
And yet I still feel like such a failure! At the end of my life, I can go out with a wail ... But I tried to be better! Like Stephen passionately telling me when he was five, "I'm trying to be good, mama!"
Oh, that just breaks my heart. How many of us in how many generations have said just those words to adults who were too broken to hear them? My mother, Stephen and me, for sure, but who else?
Thursday, March 3, 2016
Diatribe and the 5 W's
10:33am Writing Practice 49° Boise
Every single day I stall. I sit here and write whatever comes to mind and I don't write anything that could possibly go toward a book. Then, like this morning, I hear or read the stories of others and the magic weaving of the words, the musical taking-me-away-from-this-life-into-another swirls me away and I think, how do they do it? How did they think to write that sentence in just that way with just those words and descriptions, with just that dialog? I could never write that good, I say to myself, so I plop down here every morning and dash off whatever inane thoughts pop into my head and keep at it for a half hour or so and then I'm done for the day. I dust my hands off as if I've actually written something of value, pat myself on the back that I did it and off I go to the rest of my day without looking back. And I've been doing this in just this way for over ten years on a daily basis, over twenty years sporadically.
I sit here today shaking my head in wonder. I have written parts and pieces, I've collected quotes and titles and subtitles and I've outlined so many projects! And what do I have to show for any of it?! I've tried altering my sleep patterns, my schedule, when I get up, when I wash up and brush my teeth. I've fine-tuned my life, especially my mornings, in such a way as to accommodate the needs of a writer and yet, when I sit down to write, blather falls out the ends of my fingers and I let it go on as if timing the blather is all that's important, as if filling the pages with words is all that's important. My inner self wails at me, demanding to know:
WHEN will you give me a chance to write what needs to be written?! HOW can I convince you to get out of my fucking way and let me write this story?! WHAT are you so afraid of? WHO is stopping you? WHERE do you have to go to let me go and do my job? And lastly, WHY are you so willing to sit here day after day and not actually DO anything?
Well, as interesting as this diatribe is, it's not helping me get the job done. So what I'm going to do is get off here and open my scenes page and tackle that some more.
PS: I talked myself out of buying a car right now. I'll wait a few more months, until I find out about my taxes and get my debt consolidation done with the Sears card as such low interest. Then I'll see what that has done to my credit score and go from there. Because we all know I can't stand the idea of paying to much in interest.
Every single day I stall. I sit here and write whatever comes to mind and I don't write anything that could possibly go toward a book. Then, like this morning, I hear or read the stories of others and the magic weaving of the words, the musical taking-me-away-from-this-life-into-another swirls me away and I think, how do they do it? How did they think to write that sentence in just that way with just those words and descriptions, with just that dialog? I could never write that good, I say to myself, so I plop down here every morning and dash off whatever inane thoughts pop into my head and keep at it for a half hour or so and then I'm done for the day. I dust my hands off as if I've actually written something of value, pat myself on the back that I did it and off I go to the rest of my day without looking back. And I've been doing this in just this way for over ten years on a daily basis, over twenty years sporadically.
I sit here today shaking my head in wonder. I have written parts and pieces, I've collected quotes and titles and subtitles and I've outlined so many projects! And what do I have to show for any of it?! I've tried altering my sleep patterns, my schedule, when I get up, when I wash up and brush my teeth. I've fine-tuned my life, especially my mornings, in such a way as to accommodate the needs of a writer and yet, when I sit down to write, blather falls out the ends of my fingers and I let it go on as if timing the blather is all that's important, as if filling the pages with words is all that's important. My inner self wails at me, demanding to know:
WHEN will you give me a chance to write what needs to be written?! HOW can I convince you to get out of my fucking way and let me write this story?! WHAT are you so afraid of? WHO is stopping you? WHERE do you have to go to let me go and do my job? And lastly, WHY are you so willing to sit here day after day and not actually DO anything?
Well, as interesting as this diatribe is, it's not helping me get the job done. So what I'm going to do is get off here and open my scenes page and tackle that some more.
PS: I talked myself out of buying a car right now. I'll wait a few more months, until I find out about my taxes and get my debt consolidation done with the Sears card as such low interest. Then I'll see what that has done to my credit score and go from there. Because we all know I can't stand the idea of paying to much in interest.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Thoughts on buying a new car and dinner with Connie
9:10am Writing Practice 42° Boise
Writing was a bust for both Monday and Tuesday. Monday I got an early call from Steve Beck and yesterday I got an early call from Connie Morgan. That's the first time she has initiated contact with me since 1995, at least. Almost 21 years. I hurt so bad for so long that it's funny now. I feel almost nothing about any of that. I just know that whatever was bothering her had absolutely nothing to do with me. To be sitting here writing about this and feeling so calm and balanced about it is amazing to me. I must really have done my homework well!
Connie and I met for dinner last night after dropping off Joe's lamp at ARtZone 208. We ate at Sockeye, the place that fired Mark. I don't go there often but sometimes it's just the choice because it's handy. We had a good dinner and the chat was fairly light. I didn't know that she had been born in LA, El Monte, she said, or that her family had lived down there working with Pep and Colleen after they moved down. Well, no wonder my mother went down, too! Of course she would. But when did she do that? Connie said her folks went back to Baker in 1955, right after she was born. That must be when PeeWee got the job with Dubey Ranch (I don't know how to spell that name).
Well, that was interesting. I took off on Google and read about ranches for sale in Eastern Oregon. There's one in Baker, The Salmon Ranch. almost 42 acres in the foothills, right up against the treeline and six miles from town. $650,000 is all. Wow! But I didn't find out anything about the Dubey Ranch in Keating. I posted a question on FB for Jane Ross and Mike Morrisey, those guys ought to know something. So I'll find out more later.
Another thing I'm trying to decide is if I want to buy a new car right now or soon. I went and test drove a Fiat yesterday --- that's the car I keep thinking about the past few years. I can get a brand new one with everything I want on it for $12,000. It's a 5 speed, so it will be good on gas and easily set up to pull behind an RV. What I don't know is, how expensive are they to fix. I haven't had an import car since I bought the Starlet in Hermiston the summer of 1981 just before I drove down to Hanford to move in with John. More then once he commented on the fact that I showed up at his house with a leased car and a few boxes of stuff. I think it still rankles him that I made off with so much of his stuff and his money after a 20 year marriage. I don't think he ever believed I earned any of it. But then, what he thinks of me is none of my business any longer. And that is such good news!
I do like the idea of a new car. My insurance will only go up $25 a month and I'll still keep Sybil. I can keep her for the rest of my life and that's such a relief! I checked on Kelly Blue Book and right now she's only worth about $1000 as she sits. Which is sad. But she runs and drives great and still looks good, so she's worth more than that to me. I sure have gotten my money's worth, that's for sure! And yet there's a part of me that would love to have a new car. Is that the part of me that wants to be distracted from the job at hand? The job of doing all the boring writing it will take to put a book together? Probably! But what if it's just time to find a new car? Sybil is 22 years old next month. I could probably put if off a while longer while I write but I won't be going to the Oregon Coast or any other trips like that until I get a new car. Plus, I drove just the one I want yesterday --- sparkly blue with a black interior. CD player, Bluetooth for my mp3 player and cell phone.
I feel like I need to finish my debt consolidation first. I paid off the Sears card since they sent me checks to transfer a balance for 0% for a year or 3.99% for 20 months. I plan to transfer the balance from the Capital One card, which is stupid high interest, and then get it paid off that time frame. The Wells Fargo card is back up to over $800 now with the charge for the furnace repairs but those rates are low, 6.99% for the first one and 5.99% for the new charge. I paid $1.88 in interest on it last month. I can continue to pay $50 a month just like I've been doing and have it paid off in about 18 months or close to it. I can then pay $150 a month on the Sears card have that paid off in about 15 months. So I'm freeing up about $200 a month that I was paying on credit cards and that could go towards a new car. But I don't want to be in debt with a car for the next five years! AND I don't know if I would even qualify for a low enough interest rate to make it worth while. If I wait and save more money, I wouldn't have to finance so much and I could get a better rate.
I'm good at putting off buying a new car. I've been putting it off for over ten years now and just think of all the money I've saved!
Well, this has been fun, discussing the pros and cons of buying a new car. Nice to get it out of my head and onto paper. I named the blue Fiat already so I know I'd like to have it --- BeeBop or BB, the Blueberry BeeBop car. No more four doors, though. The back seat would be difficult to access. No more picking up hitchhikers, although I haven't done that in years. But it gets great gas mileage and it's solid on the snow, got a nice wide wheel base. My bike rack would fit, too, I checked that out yesterday. So now I'm sitting on the fence --- I'm 50/50 about buying that car. If it's just a distraction, I should be able to work through it, but I have been thinking about a blue Fiat for over two years.
I know! I'll think about it again later! Yaaaay! Bye for now ~
Writing was a bust for both Monday and Tuesday. Monday I got an early call from Steve Beck and yesterday I got an early call from Connie Morgan. That's the first time she has initiated contact with me since 1995, at least. Almost 21 years. I hurt so bad for so long that it's funny now. I feel almost nothing about any of that. I just know that whatever was bothering her had absolutely nothing to do with me. To be sitting here writing about this and feeling so calm and balanced about it is amazing to me. I must really have done my homework well!
Connie and I met for dinner last night after dropping off Joe's lamp at ARtZone 208. We ate at Sockeye, the place that fired Mark. I don't go there often but sometimes it's just the choice because it's handy. We had a good dinner and the chat was fairly light. I didn't know that she had been born in LA, El Monte, she said, or that her family had lived down there working with Pep and Colleen after they moved down. Well, no wonder my mother went down, too! Of course she would. But when did she do that? Connie said her folks went back to Baker in 1955, right after she was born. That must be when PeeWee got the job with Dubey Ranch (I don't know how to spell that name).
Well, that was interesting. I took off on Google and read about ranches for sale in Eastern Oregon. There's one in Baker, The Salmon Ranch. almost 42 acres in the foothills, right up against the treeline and six miles from town. $650,000 is all. Wow! But I didn't find out anything about the Dubey Ranch in Keating. I posted a question on FB for Jane Ross and Mike Morrisey, those guys ought to know something. So I'll find out more later.
Another thing I'm trying to decide is if I want to buy a new car right now or soon. I went and test drove a Fiat yesterday --- that's the car I keep thinking about the past few years. I can get a brand new one with everything I want on it for $12,000. It's a 5 speed, so it will be good on gas and easily set up to pull behind an RV. What I don't know is, how expensive are they to fix. I haven't had an import car since I bought the Starlet in Hermiston the summer of 1981 just before I drove down to Hanford to move in with John. More then once he commented on the fact that I showed up at his house with a leased car and a few boxes of stuff. I think it still rankles him that I made off with so much of his stuff and his money after a 20 year marriage. I don't think he ever believed I earned any of it. But then, what he thinks of me is none of my business any longer. And that is such good news!
I do like the idea of a new car. My insurance will only go up $25 a month and I'll still keep Sybil. I can keep her for the rest of my life and that's such a relief! I checked on Kelly Blue Book and right now she's only worth about $1000 as she sits. Which is sad. But she runs and drives great and still looks good, so she's worth more than that to me. I sure have gotten my money's worth, that's for sure! And yet there's a part of me that would love to have a new car. Is that the part of me that wants to be distracted from the job at hand? The job of doing all the boring writing it will take to put a book together?
I feel like I need to finish my debt consolidation first. I paid off the Sears card since they sent me checks to transfer a balance for 0% for a year or 3.99% for 20 months. I plan to transfer the balance from the Capital One card, which is stupid high interest, and then get it paid off that time frame. The Wells Fargo card is back up to over $800 now with the charge for the furnace repairs but those rates are low, 6.99% for the first one and 5.99% for the new charge. I paid $1.88 in interest on it last month. I can continue to pay $50 a month just like I've been doing and have it paid off in about 18 months or close to it. I can then pay $150 a month on the Sears card have that paid off in about 15 months. So I'm freeing up about $200 a month that I was paying on credit cards and that could go towards a new car. But I don't want to be in debt with a car for the next five years! AND I don't know if I would even qualify for a low enough interest rate to make it worth while. If I wait and save more money, I wouldn't have to finance so much and I could get a better rate.
I'm good at putting off buying a new car. I've been putting it off for over ten years now and just think of all the money I've saved!
Well, this has been fun, discussing the pros and cons of buying a new car. Nice to get it out of my head and onto paper. I named the blue Fiat already so I know I'd like to have it --- BeeBop or BB, the Blueberry BeeBop car. No more four doors, though. The back seat would be difficult to access. No more picking up hitchhikers, although I haven't done that in years. But it gets great gas mileage and it's solid on the snow, got a nice wide wheel base. My bike rack would fit, too, I checked that out yesterday. So now I'm sitting on the fence --- I'm 50/50 about buying that car. If it's just a distraction, I should be able to work through it, but I have been thinking about a blue Fiat for over two years.
I know! I'll think about it again later! Yaaaay! Bye for now ~
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