Happy New Year

It's sort of funny to think about making New Year resolutions when you're fifty. By this age, you've made the same ones long enough to know you won't keep them anyway, so you try to get realistic and think of things you might really do to make your life better.

I'd like to be nicer to people this year. I'm nice to them on the outside, always, but inside, you wouldn't believe the venom I can spew at them in my mind. ha.


I made a resolution to pay more attention to my writing, which I've really been procrastinating on lately. I want to finish the book I started, but I doubt daily whether anyone would be interested in it. I know Nora would, so she will probably be the one I ask to read it first before I try to submit it to anyone. She likes ghost stories, and the book is about our experience in a haunted house back in the 70's. I've still only written the first four chapters and they are rough at this point. I was asked to submit for two anthologies coming out and didn't finish the stories for either of them yet, with deadlines looming. So maybe I can actually keep that resolution.

My resolutions should be to be more assertive, take up for myself, speak out when I need to, get angry without feeling guilty, and stop people pleasing. But at fifty, I am pretty sure any changes there won't take place in one year. Maybe I can make some progress on them.

My son went to look at an apartment Friday. He will probably be moving out in the next month or so, now that he's graduated and has a good job. Of course, I'll miss him and worry about him, just like I do the other two. I used to think when they grew up, I could relax and not worry, but now is no different then when they were trying to walk and I had to keep an eye out to make sure they didn't get hurt. I still feel like I'm doing the same thing, even though they are almost 29, 25, and 23. I like being a mama, though, so it's ok that I worry.

We're not going anywhere for New Year's Eve. I guess I'll just sit here with hubby, MIL, son, and two dogs and watch television. Happy New Year! Whoopee..........

Cookies! Cookies! Cookies!

Mrs. Amy sent me cookies all the way from Alaska. I am so excited. I had to knock my son away from them so he didn't eat the whole thing! They are very colorful and taste scrumptious. Thank you thank you Mrs. Amy! And thanks for the candles! How cute!
My mother-in-law comes tonight. I've done all the laundry, cleaned the house, steam cleaned the carpet, and had the dogs groomed. Now I'm too tired to talk to her. ha.
I had another therapy appointment this week. My assignment? For me and hubby to go out to eat with another couple. (She's trying to get me out of the house around people!) She also said I need to stop skipping meals and eat small ones every three hours, because she doesn't think I'm taking care of myself. She suggested I find ways to have some "recharging time" alone while our Christmas company is here. That's about all we talked about this week. Oh yes, and journaling. I'm suppose to be journaling. Don't you think this would count?
I'll be ready for another cruise when Christmas is over. My husband, me, and middle son are going on one January 13. Yes, I know I just took two, but I want to go again! My son has never been and this will be to celebrate his graduation from college! Finally!
It's warm weather here. I wore short sleeves to work. At Christmas time! This is just messed up. It's suppose to be cold, even if we don't have snow. Right?
Well, I have to go figure out something to make for dinner.

Old Friends and Teachers

Today my daughter sent me a file with the baby's heartbeat on it so I could listen. Aren't computers neat. It is beating very fast, and I'm even more sure it's got to be a girl.
I was published in a writer's desk calendar, and my picture is in there, too. That's my latest thing to be published. I also signed a contract with Chicken Soup for the Soul for a book they are doing. It's a story about menopause, called "A Slice of Life". I really liked that story myself. But then I let a writing professor critique it, and he really chewed it up and spit it out. I was really down and wrote Cathy. She wrote back and chewed HIM up and told me she liked it. So there. I submitted it and Chicken Soup is buying it, so THERE!
My youngest son is thinking of moving to Miami to take a job there. That will be the farthest any of them have ever been away. Not too thrilled about the idea myself, but it is a really good opportunity for him. It's a much higher rated station, and he will be the top dog DJ at night so as he says, "Mommmm, I'm kinda a big deal!"
I'm still not over the eye surgery. After your eyes have been one way for fifty years and they change it, it drives you nuts. And today at work they had me filing in this huge file room and I felt like I was going to go blind trying to read the fine print and then looking for the file. I felt bad for them. They have the largest pile of filing I've ever seen in an office before. I'm not two mornings a week will help them get it down any, because of the tremendous amount they have coming in daily.
I got a letter yesteday from a girl I was best friends with from age 4 to 10, when my parents divorced and we moved. She and I were in brownies together, and we thought we were really hot stuff. ha. She's been trying to find me. It was really good to hear from her.
Oh, and remember the story I wrote in Letters to My Teacher about my sixth grade teacher? I found her, or rather a friend found her for me. She lives in Trussville, and I mailed her a copy of the book along with a note. I'm sure glad she's still around. She's about my mom's age, and mom is 76.
I saw the counselor this week, and she wants me to buy a book called, The Dance of Anger. I said I don't have a problem with anger. She said I need to get some anger. My husband said that's true, because I just take too much to heart. I think I'm going to learn a lot from going to her, and hopefully deal with some tough issues.

Depression, Feeling Helpless and Hopeless

When my youngest child was four days old, my best friend committed suicide. She was thirty years old, a wife, and the mother of two little boys. For months, she had been harder to reach on the phone, although when I did get in touch with her, she seemed fine. About two weeks before her suicide, she told me she was depressed and had been seeing a psychiatrist. I reminded her of all the good things she had in her life, and how she should snap out of it.

That week, I invited her to a craft class, which I thought would get her out of the house and help somehow. She was very reluctant but when I told her I had already paid the fee for both of us, she agreed. I went to pick her up, and she seemed very quiet. We had a nice time at the class, and she seemed to perk up a little. As we walked across the parking lot, I saw a woman we both knew a few cars down. I called out to her, and she walked over to talk to my friend and me. When we got in the car, my friend was very mad. She wanted to know why I had called that woman over and told me she didn't want to talk to anyone. On the way home, I told her if she was going to get over depression, she had to help herself, make herself do things.

Honestly, at that time, with what limited information I knew about depression, I thought I was being helpful. One morning she woke up, cleaned her house, bought groceries, prepared five meals for the freezer, took her husband lunch, sent the kids to her mom's, and went into the garage, closed the doors, and started the car. A neighbor passing by found her.

I didn't help her with anything I did. I didn't understand how someone could get to that point, and why she didn't snap herself out of it. I had never been depressed, and thought only weak people ever got that way. I raised my kids, went through a divorce, worked myself through college to get my degree, and thought I was fine. I even opened my own business. But then something happened. It began with not wanting to be around people or talk to anyone. Oh, I put on a happy face when I needed to, but I avoided others when possible. All I wanted to do in the daytime was go to bed, and at night, when I could go to bed, I couldn't sleep. I kept going. I didn't tell anyone there was a problem. I was convinced I was fine. I began to have crying spells, for no reason. Once I started, I couldn't stop, and I would lie in bed crying for hours.

One morning my alarm clock went off and I got up. Three hours later, I found myself standing in front of the dresser with no memory of what I'd done in between. It absolutely terrified me. I called my best friend, Dawn. When she heard me crying and asked what was wrong, I said, "I'm losing it. I'm losing it." She talked to me and suggested I call a counseling clinic, and read me the number. I called it and called her back and told her I was going to drive there, and I was fine. She didn't believe me as I was still crying the whole time. That day I was admitted to the hospital for major depression. I stayed there for three weeks. I got on medication, I talked to doctors, I made life changes, and I started over. This was in 2000.

The reason I'm writing all this now is because there are so many people who were like me, who didn't "get it" when it came to depression. The best way I can describe it is to imagine a day when you feel really blah and multiply that by a hundred times. It's not something you can quit and it's not something you can control, although I fought to be in total control at all times.
I've learned a lot about depression. I still don't recognize it in myself. Usually my husband notices it before I do, and tells me to go back on my medication. That's what he did this time. When I was put on medication, the doctors told me to plan on taking it the rest of my life. But there are times I start to feel good, and think I don't need it, and I quit. And as I've finally learned, depression always slowly comes over me every time, and I'm in it before I realize what is happening.

If you are depressed and read this, know that even though people may not understand, they are doing the best they can with the information they have. Tell someone, even if it's just your family doctor. If you think you know someone who is depressed, learn the symptoms and then don't let go of them until they get help. It's not true that people who threaten suicide don't do it. My friend threatened it several times before she actually did it. I've stood on that cliff between living and giving up and felt way too close to the edge at times. (I'm not there now, so don't worry.)

I'm on my medication, and I like my new volunteer job. (Today was my first day.) I just wanted to write about this because I thought if I can help one person, that would be a good thing.

"When your body hurts, people send flowers. When your mind hurts, people throw bricks." --Richard Berendzen

Yes, Margaret, There is a God

I decided to give it up and call to get an appointment with a counselor, due to suggestions by both daughter and husband. You see, I've tried the counseling three times. The first time I had a counselor I just really clicked with, Mrs. Jones. She was a woman about my age, and with similar experiences with family (I gathered from some of her comments), and during the two years I saw her, she moved me forward in my life and helped me make some life changing decisions. All was well, until she decided to change and get into a group that didn't take my insurance.
Determined, I tried going for awhile and paying on my own, but that didn't/couldn't be done for long. So I told her I couldn't come back. I will never forget her look and what she said, "Just when we were really starting to get somewhere."
So then I found a woman nearby, Mrs. Martin, who took my insurance, and who spent the whole time filling out paperwork for forty-five minutes of every fifty minute session. Then she'd say so is there anything you want to talk about today? Which, of course, made my mind go totally blank. I gave her up.
Then I broke down a year or so ago, and found another lady in our area, who I called Miss Brenda, and it went ok. I liked her. She tried. But there was just something that never felt right with her. I just realized I missed the first one. I had gotten spoiled. So the thought of going back to counseling wasn't an idea I wanted to do. But hey, I realize I am depressed. I can call it by a lot of different names but when you don't want to do anything, or talk to anyone, or take a bath, that's depression.
So I broke down this morning and called my insurance company to find out who they would pay for me to see in the way of counselors. They read off a couple of names, including counselor number two (no way, who else do you have), a man (no, don't think so), and counselor number three. I figured I'd just go back to her, even though I didn't really want to. But something hit me, and I thought why not? So I asked if the first woman, Jones, was on their list. While she had me on hold waiting, I said, "Please God. Please God. Please God" to myself. Then all of a sudden, I felt such peace. I knew it would be ok. She came back to the phone and said, "Yes, she's a provider. Here's her number." I see her this Wednesday.
Today is the first time I've felt better in weeks. Yes, folks. There are times I am totally convinced without a shadow of a doubt that God is up there, listening, and really cares what happens. Today is one of those days. Thanks, God. Thanks, God. Thanks, God.

Wandering In the Forest in the Winter

I got an email from this guy who manages a bunch of websites. He said he'd seen some of my work and wanted me to write for him. He offered me some money that was just ok, not great, and sent me the link to one of his webpages so I could get an idea of his content. It was all about budgets and financial stuff. I wrote him back and said I am no financial expert (me, financial wiz, ha ha ha, hilarious) and he might be better served to get someone who was better suited...He wrote back and said no problem, he'd give me all the research I needed, and I could just churn out something from my research. I was reluctant but agreed...So today he sends me my first assignment. He wanted thirty articles about gas cards, as in gasoline. He sent me links to about fifteen stories to read. I read two and fell asleep (ok, well almost asleep). I wrote him back and said, "I just can't write about something I'm not interested in." I don't know. Maybe that's arrogant of me, but I don't want something with my name on it I churned out about something boring as h*ll.
I realize that it's Christmas, meaning cold weather, meaning I get out very little and get more depressed, so I went down and signed up to do volunteer work two mornings a week in an office of a state agency of children's services. Now I DREAD like the plague showing up next week.
I honestly don't want to do anything but crawl back into bed. I've been forcing myself not to do that. I started back on my anti-depressants yesterday. I'm fighting this by trying to make myself go through the motions. I know this is bummer stuff to write about right now, and to my readers, I apologize. But I thought maybe there was someone else out there feeling this way, and maybe they might happen along this blog and realize they are not alone. If so, posting this crap will be worth it.
I haven't gotten dressed except to go to the grocery, then home and right back into my robe and socks. I haven't worn makeup in weeks and can't use eye surgery as an excuse any longer. I haven't returned calls from my friends. I keep on a bright face for anyone who might worry about me. I'm not crying. I'm not sleeping well. I'm not doing much of anything. The only way I can describe this is feeling like someone turned off some button on my shoulder and now I'm a stepford wife without the baking or fluff.

Ho Ho Bah Humbug Again

According to blogger, I now have 350 posts on my blog. Considering one of my flaws is not sticking with anything, I'd say that's a major accomplishment. It can be very helpful at times to use my blog to vent things I would normally keep to myself. It can also be very aggravating to read back over the same month, two years ago, and find that back then I worried about the same things that still bug me. But I think blogging is a good thing, or else I wouldn't keep at it.
Christmas is looming. To everyone who knows me, I'm a notorious Scrooge. I dread it like the plague. I don't know why. I always have. It's something I'm relieved to be over. The only good part of it is I get to see my kids. I am always depressed this time of year for some reason, and there is so much to do. I even thought of us all going out to eat this year, but what kind of Christmas is that for kids. I'll figure out something. But I can't seem to get the image out of my mind of my hiding out underneath the covers until it's all over.
To keep in the holiday tradition, my husband rummaged through the back of the guest room close to find the garbage bag, holding a two foot tree covered in last years ornaments. He pulled that sucker out, put it on an end table in the living room, cleaned up the glass from the ball he shattered jerking that sucker out of the bag, and then declared it's officially Christmas at our house. I added to the festivities by putting our two Christmas cards on the mantle over the fireplace. I might even put a red bow on the dogs. How's that?
Christmas menu is being based on requests this year. So far I have hashbrown casserole and deviled eggs. ha. No one else has given me requests but my son.
My middle son graduates in a week or so. He got a job offer with the company he's been interning with, a really good offer. He's happy. We're happy. I hope he finds him a place to live he likes, and buys himself a new truck. That's his plan anyway. I can't say I'm too thrilled over the idea of him moving out. Other people are pushing him, and I'm holding back. I do want him to be happy though, and I know it's time for him to spread those wings, in my mind anyway.
It's so rough being a Mama. Such mixed feelings about things. Whoever said children bring you your biggest heartaches and highest highs is right.
I'm very grateful that we have the new grandbaby coming. My son's new job. My other son's new girlfriend that makes him happy. My husband's upcoming promotion in February. That everyone is healthy. That we have a place in live and food to eat in this country. That I am 50. I have a long list of things to be happy about, if I could just shake the blahs.

Who's Car is This Anyway and Other Menopause Funnies

It is 3:20 in the morning and I am wide awake having one of those wonderful things called hot flashes. So when you are awake and don't want to wake the rest of the house, what do you do except get on the computer? And lo and behold, I got a funny email from a friend with just what I needed to keep my sense of humor about the whole getting older thing.....
Here are a few of her zingers:
Sagging can be prevented. Just keep eating until the wrinkles fill out.
Since I've been getting older, my memory is not as good as it used to be. Also, my memory is not as good as it used to be.
The nice thing about being senile is you can hide your own Easter eggs.
It's scary when your body starts making the same noises as your coffeemaker.
You know you're getting older when most of the products in your shopping cart contain the words "fast relief."
I'm not having hot flashes. It's just my inner child playing with matches.
I have found the cure for hot flashes. Chocolate! Does it work? I don't know and as long as I have chocolate, I don't care.

The up side to all this is I found out I'm not alone. My friend called me this week and said she doesn't know what is wrong with her but she just feels bad. She said, " I ache all over and I just feel blah. One minute I'm burning up, the next freezing. I can't remember what I was about to say, or what I got up to do. Things on me hurt I didn't know I even had." I said welcome to menopause.

Robin McGraw said she has found the natural cure for menopause. She has a treasure trove of herbal remedies. I think Dr Phil's money would cure a lot of my problems. At least if I was out shopping, I'd have less time to worry about my face being on fire.

I've decided I can do dieting or menopause but not both. And since I have no choice about the menopause.......

This is a true account as recorded in the Police Log of Sarasota,Florida:
An elderly Florida lady did her shopping and, upon returning to her car, found four males in the act of leaving with her vehicle. She dropped her shopping bags and drew her handgun, proceeding to scream at the top of her voice, "I have a gun, and I know how to use it! Get out of the car!" The four men didn't wait for a second invitation. They got out and ran like mad.
The lady, somewhat shaken, then proceeded to load her shopping bags into the back of the car and got into the driver's seat. She was so shaken that she could not get her key into the ignition; for the same reason, she did not understand why there was a football, a Frisbee and two 12-packs of beer in the front seat!
She tried and tried, and then it dawned on her why...A few minutes later, she found her own car parked four or five spaces farther down. She loaded her bags into the car and drove to the police station to report her mistake. The sergeant to whom she told the story couldn't stop laughing. He pointed to the other end of the counter, where four pale teenagers were reporting a car-jacking by a mad, elderly woman described as white, less than five feet tall, glasses, curly white hair, and carrying a large handgun.
No charges were filed.

And my favorite old age story...True story...about my mom!
My mom and her friends, Mildred and Thelma were out shopping together one day, when Thelma decided to run back into the store for something. Mom and Mildred waited in the car.
Mom, looking up: Mildred! Your headliner in this car is coming down back here.
Mildred: What? Oh my God. It better not be.
Mom: It is! Look at this!
Mildred: Well that beats all. I'm taking this car right back to the dealer. I haven't had this car long. It shouldn't be doing that.
Mom: No, you're right. I'd take it back and give them a piece of my mind.
Mildred: Yeah! I sure will.
A few minutes pass and then....
Mom: Uh, Mildred...I just realized....this is not your car...this is Thelma's car.