Too purty to live in town.....

3/17/08

Last week was very hard on me. VERY hard. Here's the deets....Kinda long, but bear with me, ok? I hope it doesn't bring anyone down. It really helps me that I have this blog because I can write here about things that nobody really cares enough to listen to me talk about. It's safe here. If you don't want to read what I write, simply click the x at the upper right hand corner and go on to someone else's blog, no hard feelings. Life is way to short to get wrapped around the axle about petty shit like that.

I write here for me. I don't do it to entertain, or enlighten or to try to convince others to my way of thinking. This is the one place in my life that it's all about me and what I think and what I feel and what I want. This is for my healing. I'm not afraid or ashamed to admit that this blog is totally selfish. It helps me get out of my head and organize my thoughts. I've tried to talk to a couple of people about this, but I guess they are so wiggy about the topic that they suddenly have a thousand other things to do.

I got a call from my daughter Amy last Sunday pm, very despondant, so sorry she's been a disappointment to me, knowing she's gonna die a heroin addict, etc. She got arrested again, but they ended up just giving her a citation for paraphanalia.

The cop that searched her bag got stuck by one of her dirty needles. That just broke my heart. I pray he doesn't contract her Hep C and hope that she doesn't have any other viruses she hasn't told me about.

I spent a day or so racked with guilt about it, but I didn't recognize it as guilt at the time. Thankfully, a friend of mine called it out for what it was and I was able to process it and move past it. It still baffles me though....I mean, holy cow, I'm almost 45, you'd think I'd know guilt when I see it, right? I guess not.

Then, Monday morning at work came and we were told about my coworker's death. Tore me up. I felt that maybe I should put together some sort of a plan should I get "the call" about Amy. Yes, her call scared me that much.

I ended up contacting some folks in the funeral industry, and getting some answers to my questions, which greatly helped to give me peace. Plans are my security, as wierd as that may be. As awful as it is, I'd rather do it now than when my emotions are twisting in the wind with grief. I pray that those plans will never be used and she will become clean and sober, but I can't ignore the likelihood of an unpleasant outcome.

So, after several nights on insomnia, and sad days, I'm sorta better now. As long as she's breathing, she still has hope and I'll just keep praying for her. God knows what He's doing, and He's still God and I'm still not. I'm not strong enough to do His job.

I did ok throughout the weekend and I thought that I was really starting to come out of this funk. I was looking forward to a good, productive day at work. However, it seemed that everything I touched had a thousand little knots in it and I was only able to get a portion of what needed to be done fixed, and I'd have to email someone else to do their part and send it back to me to finish.

So, I feel like not much got done, but I know that I got the wheel turning on a lot of things. It just doesn't FEEL like I got a lot done. I've seen enough sunrises to know that I can't trust how I feel because feelings are unreliable.

I guess Joe picked up on my funk and decided he would see how much backsass he could get away with. It got ugly. I'm not proud of that. Yet, I give myself a break because I do the best I can. I'm not gonna guilt myself over the fact that I'm not the June Cleaver perfect parent. I smoke too many cigarettes, I cuss too much and right now, I'm enjoying some sips of Apple Pucker (apple flavored schnapps) to help relax.

Here's hoping for a better day tomorrow!