Nothing New

Tuesday was our third wedding anniversary. My husband took off work and we went to our favorite Japanese restaurant for dinner. It was very nice. He also got me a gift card from Books A Million and a card.
We hope this weekend to go to Birmingham to PF changs. I love that restaurant but we don't have one near here, so we have to drive awhile but it's worth it.
We have been watching American Idol this season. I think Mandissa is the best singer, and I'm tired of people saying she's not "marketable" because she's fat. I think they only say that because she's a female, because they didn't say that about Ruben, now did they? Whether she's 100 pounds or 1000 pounds, she's still the most talented.
I haven't written the letters yet that the counselor asked me to write. Because I don't see her again until next week, I have some time to think about what I want to say. I'll post the letters to this blog when I get them written. It's been good this week for me to think about what I want to say, instead of just writing without thought. I've had time to deal with some of the anger, so I think I can do it from a better place. I also haven't written my goals yet. I'm sort of at a loss on that one. I feel like right now my goals are to just get up each day and do whatever I feel like doing, whether that's art, music, reading, or absolutely nothing but mindless television watching. Of course, every day includes having to clean up the house and cook dinner, so it's not all "doing nothing" time.
I've been reading about herb gardens, and am thinking of doing something like that out back in our courtyard, although I like the idea of an indoor herb garden better. We just don't get any light in here.
I bought a couple of bookcases for our bedroom. My book collection is overflowing every nook and cranny in this house, and I can't find any of them when I want to.
Nothing else new around here.
My stepdaughter and her husband seem to be having some problems managing to make it month to month on his trust fund. My husband went down to take them some money. He said he was going to talk to them about his concerns about their future (what will they do when the money is gone and they have no job experience etc.) He came back and hadn't said anything to them. I don't blame him. I told him I think we should help the kids, mine included, when they are doing everything they can to help themselves. We don't understand them not wanting to have the reward of enjoying the fruits of their own labors and stand on their own, apart from trusts etc. But hey, it's not my thing.

I Saw You Crying in the.......

Now and then you read a story that is just worth repeating. This is one of those:

A young composer came to Mozart and asked, "How do I write symphonies?"
Mozart replied, "Well, you are young yet. Perhaps you should begin by writing minuets."
The young man was disturbed, "But you were writing symphonies when you were only nine years old!"
Mozart said, "Yes, but I didn't ask anyone how to do it."

And now for some humor....
On the outside of a birthday card:" Happy Birthday. Inside is your very important message from God"
Inside: "See you soon!"

We aren't doing anything much this weekend. We found this new Italian restaurant near our house and we're going back there tonight for dinner. Then we plan to go see "Inside Man."
I have this thing for movies. When I was growing up, as I've said before many times, emotion was not shown in our home without ridicule. Everytime I got up enough money, I would go alone to the movie theatre (there were three very near our house). Inside, I'd pick an emotional movie, go in, sit in the dark, and laugh and cry to my heart's content. I think movies saved me.

Hush Mama and Let me Talk!

If I broke my legs and had to have physical therapy, I wouldn't expect it to be a quick fix. I'd expect it to take some time and patience. But I didn't think that way about going for counseling therapy. I wanted to spill my guts, let her pinpoint where I'm messing up, give me a 1-2-3 way of fixing it, and WA-LA! Even me in my muddle mind realized it's not reasonable to expect that. However, that didn't keep me from asking the counselor today if she could give me the steps I need to take to fix myself. She smiled one of those smiles that you immediately interpret as "Oh, you silly, silly, child."
But she knows me, after listening to my ramblings now for several weeks, and she knew that even if she couldn't give me an immediate solution, the least she could do is give me a map. She suggested I go home and get a notebook and write "The Fix It Book". In this book, I am to take a page for each of the problems I have in my life. She suggested if that seems overwhelming just pick a couple. Then under it write what the ultimate outcome would be, the one I'd most like to see, and then under it start listing the steps I'm willing to take to get there.
Her next advice was to write a dream for myself. A big dream. If it didn't matter what money I had, or what people thought or how far fetched it seemed to me, just dream big and write it down.
Then she suggested I write a letter to anyone who had hurt me. I told her a good friend suggested that not only does it help to write it, but it helps to write a response from the other person to yourself of what you wish they would say. She said that sounded like a great idea. She said I need to express in these letters my anger, my fear, my frustrations, my needs, my wants, and be specific. Then I am to bring those to the next counseling session. She said those letters can be one step that I list in my fix it book.
She talked to me about my writing. How I get inspired, how do I write, where the words come from. Then she asked where I wanted my writing to go. I said I wish I could write something that touched millions of people, but I didn't want to be famous for it, because that would mean I would have to do interviews, go on Oprah (gasp!) etc. I told her my dream was more to write something brilliant, and after I'm gone have it be discovered and then I could be famous. (Hey, I just tell her the first thing that comes into my brain!) She said why do you not want to be famous for your writing while you're here to enjoy it? I replied that I would not be comfortable with the recognition, I'd feel like I was being "hoytie, toytie", and "who does she think she is!"
She sat back in her chair, and said, "I didn't ask you about your writing dream because I particulurly wanted to know about the writing process. I asked you these questions because I wanted to know what YOU really thought, dreamed, hoped for. But instead of hearing from you, I heard from your mother."
That's why I pay that woman what I pay her. She says things that knock the breath out of me and leave me sitting like a deer in the headlights.
So it was a good session.

And She Goes On and On and On....

I've felt better since I went to the counselor the other day. I guess I got out some of the emotion I've had bottled up for awhile. I started journaling but am finding it difficult to write that much. I guess I can type now better/quicker than I can write! But I guess the idea is to take your time journaling so your mind has time to think, instead of rambling like I usually do in this blog. ha.
My step-daughter and her husband came over Friday. We had quiche. After dinner, I got a shipment from UPS of the book I ordered, "Letters to My Teacher", that had my short story in it. (It was just released.) He wanted to read the story and did, then asked if I had a website to promote my work. My husband said, "Oh yes, she has a website for that. She also has a blog!"
Well, that started it. He wanted the address to my blog. I told him I'd have to think about it. He continued to harp on it throughout dinner, the movie, and the time afterward. He said if I wasn't ashamed of what I had written, and it was true, why did I care who read it? I said part of the fun of blogging is the anonimity, and not hurting anyone else's feelings. He didn't buy that either. We went to see 16 Blocks with them on Friday, and then yesterday we went to see Failure to Launch. Both were good. Then my husband wanted to stop by his favorite hobby shop, and he found that they were going out of business and were having a huge 50% off sale. He bought over three hundred dollars worth of war models. He says he's all set now for retirement, as he intends to spend a lot of his free time putting them together. He was so excited, and said it seemed like Christmas.
I've begun drawing. It seems like when things bother me, I always feel better if I can stop and do something creative. I bought a book about learning to draw and I'm having a lot of fun with it. And anytime I need to be alone, I can sit with my sketch pad, look inspired, and say, "Leave me alone. I'm concentrating!"
A couple of people wanted me to mention the names of the books the counselor wanted me to read. They are Love is a Choice, Beyond the Darkness, and The Courage to Heal.
I just found out Jessica Simpson has a malti-poo puppy that looks identical to our dog. But of course, I think ours is much cuter!

Open the Floodgates

I went to see the counselor this morning, and I took the pictures I made of the neighbors house. And we talked about it, and I do remember a few things but it's so vague. More like glimpses of things but nothing that really goes together. What is very real to me though, is the feelings that come up when I talk to her about it. So I realized today that if I can remember crying on the first day of school and being afraid, but no feelings come up for that NOW, but just thinking of this place and that man make my heart pound, my hands shake, and feel like I'm smothering, then it's probably safe to assume something traumatic happened to me, and that I probably won't ever really know what because I was so young. ( I did get the pictures my mom sent that the neighbor man made of me, and my counselor's only comment was that I sure didn't look happy in any of them.)
So then we continued to talk about other things, and the way I've always been the black sheep of my family, the one that is "different". She said and why do you think that is? I said I didn't know, but that I'd always wondered what was wrong with me. She said I know what is wrong but I can't tell you because it is something you need to learn for yourself. So then she said, "As a five year old child, what could be wrong with you? What could have been wrong with you that made you deserve to be traumatized as a child by a neighbor? What could have been wrong with you that made your mother not ever tell you she loved you?" I sat there like a deer in the headlights and couldn't say anything.
She said, "I want you to repeat after me. There was nothing wrong with me."
Well, I lost it. I broke down and couldn't stop crying. It was like someone opened the flood gates, and I realized I couldn't say it. At the same time, I kept thinking I knew that in my mind, that I was ok, but why couldn't I just open my mouth and say it. And why was I sitting there crying like a baby?
She didn't speak this whole time and it felt like forever. I thought maybe she'd forget what she had asked me to do. But she said, Just try to say it out loud. And I did. I cried some more. And the tears stopped finally, and then I started to get really angry at how unfair it all was. I guess I still have a hard time believing there could have been something wrong with my father, my mother, and my sister, and that it wasn't ME. I mean that's three to one. But I do feel better than I did this morning. She gave me two books to read and said to journal. So this blog entry is part of that journaling.
I started a blog a long time ago just because I wanted an anonymous place to vent, and gradually I began to write more what I thought others wanted to read and not so much for me. Well I'm going to write my junk for awhile. I apologize if I bore those people who have been faithful readers. I love all you guys. Hang in there with me.

Know Thyself

I love those online personality tests. It's become even more important to me as I grow older to know myself better. After my last divorce, I had pretty much forgotten what I liked, wanted, etc. I tend to do what others want to avoid conflict. But after I realized how I had lost myself in that relationship to the point I didn't really know what kind of food I liked best, what restaurants were my favorites, etc, I have had an interest in finding out what makes me tick. This test was very interesting. Here are my results.

INTJ - "Mastermind". Introverted intellectual with a preference for finding certainty. A builder of systems and the applier of theoretical models. 2.1% of total population.

Take Free Jung Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Show Me The Money

I went to see my Dad. It was a weird experience. I was sort of uncomfortable, but he did most of the talking. So I now know who died and left who money in the family, how much everyone has, who saves their's and who blows their's. I know how he started saving when he was young. He asked how my children are. I started to tell him but it wasn't the reply he wanted. He wanted to know if they make good money and are they saving for the future. I guess I had forgotten one major thing about him. He has money signs for eyes. When most people count sheep to go to sleep, he counts bundles of bank notes. My sister used to say, "He's richer than God, and so tight he squeaks when he walks." I think it's sad really, that his whole pleasure in life is counting his money, making more, and looking at his bank books. I've always said I hope he leaves me nothing when he dies, because I wouldn't want him to come back and haunt me for what I'd end up doing with it. Going to see him just made me tired. But at least it appeased the guilt for awhile. My mom called and left a message that she "found the boxes of slides that (the neighbor) made of me, and she was copying them to mail me, so I should "get ready." That last part gave me chills. There is a part of me that thinks if he was a perv and Mom knew he was strange, and that his whole family including his dad were strange, why was she allowing him to take me off with him and make boxes and boxes of pictures of me. And what were in the boxes of slides we didn't get. I don't think I can stand thinking much more about this. It's time to go down Da Nile again! The doctor put my husband on Lipitor for his high cholesterol. He's now having pain and numbness in both arms. He mentioned it at work and found out one of his co-workers walks now with a cane and blames it on Lipitor. So we looked it up on the web and it seems like a lot of people have similar problems. I wonder sometimes what these doctors are smoking.

And That's All

Yesterday I saw the therapist about the neighbor thing. After we talked awhile, I realized I 1) know the floor plan of the neighbor's house inside (where all the rooms are) and 2) I remembered a shed out back, dark inside, and it made me scared and physically feel like I was smothering. After that, she suggested that I 1) run a criminal background check on the neighbor, now deceased, to see if he was indeed a molester of anyone and 2) go by there to see if the houses are still there, and if there is any kind of outbuilding out back. She also suggested I not go do this alone, but take someone with me in case I get upset. I decided if I get upset, I don't want anyone there to see that, so I drove there alone. (about 45 miles away). As I drove up the street I found that, yes, the houses were still there. As I drove past, I saw what looked like an outbuilding of some kind, maybe. This freaked me out and I decided I didn't want to think about it anymore. I took my camera phone and took some pictures, thought I'd just go by and get some lunch somewhere and then look at them to see if I remembered anything. I went to get lunch but couldn't bring myself to look at the pictures yet. I calmed down and decided I would go back just to see if the outbuilding I thought I saw was really there, and if it was detached, and if I remembered anything else. I found an alleyway running behind the houses and drove up it, and took a picture of the detached outbuilding. I was finding it hard to breathe, literally. I drove down to the corner, calmed down, and came home. After I came home, it was surreal, like I must have surely imagined seeing all that. I sent the pictures to my email and looked. Yes, it's there. And I remember being inside, and the darkness, and not being able to breathe. And that's all.

Ohhhhhh Little Rock

I made a call to my father on Thursday. I haven't seen him but once in five years. I thought it's time I forgave him and his new wife and try to develop some kind of relationship as adults not a child and parents. I told them I would be out to visit on Saturday.
Thursday afternoon my youngest son called. He said he had a lot of congestion in his lungs and felt bad. I told him to call the doctor and go in to see him. Friday I call to get a doctor's report. No answer so I left a message. Saturday morning, another call. No answer. Around noon, that son's girlfriend called. She said he called her Friday night after he got off work saying he was "really feeling bad" and thinking of going to the ER. After that, she had not been able to get in touch with him. I sat down and called and called and called and finally, about an hour later, I packed my bags and headed out to Little Rock, Arkansas, six and a half hours away.
I made it to Memphis and got a call from him. "No Mom I'm fine. I don't know why she worried you. I'm really feeling better. It's just a cold. YOu don't need to come. I have so much stuff to do. I haven't cleaned my apt. You'd be so bored here." Etc. Etc. So faced with what to do, I figured I was about half way there, so I might as well turn around and come home. I drove from 1:30 PM until 8 P.M.
Then this morning, same son calls back. Feeling worse, fever, chills. I get back on the phone and call all over Little Rock for a walk-in clinic open on Sunday. He finally found one and went. He's on antibiotics and cough syrup.
Then my stepmom calls to tell me how I disappointed my dad because he had been watching for me all weekend.....
I've had a good week since I last posted the one about the neighbor guy. I told Cathy, I'm excellent at denial, and since I have to go to the counselor again tomorrow and talk about the conversation I had with my mother, I figure I better enjoy my denial as long as I can. I feel like Scarlett.
My husband brought me flowers tonight. He knew I'd had a bad week. He's a sweetie.

And it Magically Appeared!

I've always been an introvert. When others get recharged by being with others, that makes me drained, and the only way I can recharge is some time alone. I don't go to the socials our homeowners association gives. I have lived in this townhome since 2000, and it was built in 1997. Recently, as I've written, we got a leak in the roof and had to call in roofers. When they got up there, they found that our roof was leaking around the dormer because some of the siding on the dormer was rotted and needed to be replaced, as well as repairing the roof. No problem. Work got done. Everyone happy. Everyone it seems, but one of my anonymous neighbors.
Tonight, around 8 PM, we had a visitor, a poor little sheepish looking man holding a stack of papers. He informed us that one of our neighbors said we violated the rules of the townhome association, and a special meeting was held by the architectural committee to discuss our situation, and he was elected to come and tell us we were not allowed to ADD a dormer to our roof without their permission.
I explained that our upper floor did not magically appear, but has always been the thing up the stairs. And likewise, our dormer has always been there, too. However, because of a roof leak, we had it repaired, some siding replaced, etc. The repairs took a day and half. (I'd love to see someone tear a hole in the roof, frame out a dormer, and finish it out, rebuild the roof around it, and get it done in a day and half!) He looked very tired, and said he would go back and tell them, and he apologized. But I had a feeling he was not quite sure we hadn't built a dormer that had never been there, and how could we have a dormer up there for seven years and yet this neighbor never noticed?
Well after he left, I found the proposal we got from the roofers, along with their business card, and it listed all the repairs that were done. I ran a copy of this, and drafted a letter telling them basically, here's your evidence. Then I ended the letter by saying, "I've lived right here for six years. I pay my homeowners dues faithfully, have never complained about anything, follow the rules and mind my own business. I suggest the person who complained about this try to mind their's."
We put it in an envelope and addressed it to the committee and left it for them at the office.
Maybe my daughter is right, we need a house!