Welp. It’s been a while. But since I’ve always said that blogging is cheaper than therapy, here I am. Back again.

I can feel the downward spiral stating. Starting. Who am I kidding? I’m a good way down that spiral already. Only thing keeping me from hitting rock bottom again is the meds. The last few weeks have been just a blur of . . . I don’t even know, just blah & empty emotionless zombie-mode. Hubby tried telling me for weeks that Thanksgiving was almost here & I needed to plan. I just kept thinking, I got time. Then suddenly I no longer had time. I should have felt pressured & stressed, but honestly. I just didn’t give a damn

I forgot to do so much that I normally do for Thanksgiving. But oh well. Then the next day, while most people in this country are out shopping trying to bag a great deal, my family has the annual Tree Day tradition. We drag out all the Christmas stuff & decorate the house. This year, while setting up the tree, I finally feIt something, for the first time in weeks. One of the songs in the Muppet Family Christmas triggered all the feels all at once. There was sadness because I miss my Dad & this was his favorite time of year. Then the realization that this year is the 20th anniversary of the loss of my first baby. All of that was quickly followed by an over whelming sense of guilt. Guilt because I hadn’t realized that sooner. Guilt over all the traditional things I’d forgotten to do for my family this year. Then it was like my brain decided, “Oh, you like emotion? Have some more, in fact, have all of the sadness & guilt you can handle.”

Then, as quickly as it came on, it all went away. I was left with a feeling of depression. This morning, I could feel myself spiraling downward. I’m allowed to double-up on my meds when I feel like this, so that’s what I’ve done. I’ve also talked things out withe my husband. He’s amazing.

Anyway I know this is a bad time of year for me. All the angel days combined with the holidays has always been a trigger. Throw in the gloomy weather activating my arthritis & SAD (seasonal affective disorder), & I’m just a hot mess of depression & numbness. But you know what they say, knowing is half the battle. Hopefully, with a lot of prayer, medications, & support from my family & friends, I’ll get through this sooner rather than later.


Grandpa reads to us.
It’s been 5 years.

I miss my daddy.

I miss listening to him read to my kids.

It makes me sad to know that my sisters’ kids will never know him.

But I know he’s in a better place.  I know he can finally see.

I know I will see him again someday.

I still miss him though.

Still alive

Yes, I am still alive.

Truthfully, I just haven’t had the energy to blog lately.  I think I’ve probably written about a dozen blog posts in my head, but when I open my browser… Nothing.

Seems I’m going through a down time.  If you’ve been following my blog for any length of time, you know this happens to me, a lot.  I have a tendency to get all stressed out and then depression creeps in.  Trouble sleeping, compounded by trouble focusing & lack of energy…  Well… It’s not pretty.  Once that happens, I just quit blogging for a while…  then eventually, I come back, do a massive therapeutic dump session, and voila!  I’m back on the road to recovery.

The one thing that always seems to bring me out of these funks is my music.  I have everything from Just Passing Thru to Rihanna, Kirk Franklin to P!nk, Kutless to Gwen Stefani.  I love music.


My dad loved music too.  It’s hard to believe it’s been two years since he died.  My daughter will never forget “Baby Makes Stink-pot” – my dad’s ad-lib version of the Berenstain Bear’s book, Baby Makes Five.  The other day, my sister announced she’s pregnant.  I’m incredibly happy for her, but it just doesn’t seem fair that her child will never know the man who had such a profound impact on everyone he met, but wasn’t afraid to play barbies with his little girls.

Dad saved my wedding.  I lost the ring I was to give, and we couldn’t find it.  I was having a panic attack about it, when my Dad pulled the ring off his own hand and gave it to me.  “Use this, ” he said as he kissed my forehead.  Then he walked me down the aisle.

I miss you Daddy.

Grampa Reads to Us

To my 17 yr old self:

Dear 17 yr old me,

You know how you and your best friend are always telling each other, “Or something better!”  It came from something you heard at some youth event, or conference or something (‘fession time!  your 32 yr old self doesn’t remember it all that well!).  It  has to do with God’s plan for your life, and how if He’s not giving you what you are asking for, it’s because He has something better planned for you.  Well, hang on sweetie, it’s coming!

I know it’s hard right now.  You think your life will walk a certain path that involves a certain guy, if only he would wake up and smell the awesome that is you.  Hunny, trust me.  Something much better is headed your way.

Remember that dream you had last year?  The one about the black haired guy with the most beautiful, kindest, big brown eyes you had ever seen?  He’s real.  Remember a few days later when he-who-shall-not-be-named was giving you grief over some stupid thing, and this dream guy’s face popped into your head, and you thought, “Wow.  He would never treat me this way.”  He won’t.

You will meet that dream guy, but not for a few years.  He will turn out to be everything you never knew you needed, and everything you never thought you deserved.  Hold out for it hunny.

He will give you everything you’re dreaming of but don’t think will ever happen.  Without giving too much away, you will be a wife, and a mother, and damn good one too.

There will be pain & heartache.  But trust me, God has blessed your broken road, and brought you to something so much better then anything you are imagining now.

There is one thing I wish you would do for me.  When you are 30, and your father lands in the hospital, don’t hesitate. Run to his side.

On second thought, don’t. Listen & believe your mom when she insists that you don’t need to.  I’m kinda glad my last memory of him is of him walking out the door, heading to work, instead of hooked to machines in a hospital room.  But please, hand that phone around to the kids and your husband that last Saturday.  Give them a chance to say goodbye.

Love your 32 year old self.

(By the way ya’ll, I got the idea for this from Lisa @ the Preacher’s Wife.  Check out her letter here.)

Joy and Sorrow.

I love this time of year.  I love the twinkling, multi-color lights, the way the lights reflect off the ornaments on the tree.  I love the smell of fresh baked cookies, the taste of cookie dough.  I love the smell of my Balsam & Pine candle (it’s from Yankee Candle).  I love curling up with a mug of hot chocolate in front of the fire place.  I love the music.  I love the memories and nostalgia.  I love making new memories, and creating new traditions with my own family.  I love this time year.

I hate this time of year.  I hate the depression that always comes.  I hate the “gimmies” and the “I wants” that come no matter how much we try to stave them off.  I hate the commercialism, the Christmas stuff in the stores well before Halloween. I hate the stress that comes with all the projects and the “did I get a gift for that one?  Did we forget anyone?”  I hate the self-imposed pressure to be happy and make life all kittens and sunshine for my kids when I just want to curl up in a fetal postition and sleep through from November til February.  Hibernation – It’s not just for bears anymore!  I just want to avoid it all.  I hate this time of year.

But I love this time.

Christmas music makes me cry in such an odd mix of joy and sorrow, that I’m not sure what to do with all the emotion bottled up inside.  Certain CD’s especially remind me of my Dad.  John Denver and the Muppets “A Christmas Together” is one of them.  Good memories of listening to the record (yes, vinyl. I feel so old!) throughout the holiday season and yelling “Ba Dum Dum Dum Dum!” with Piggy.  It was always one of our favorites.

This year, I’m struggling.  This year marks 10 years since we lost our Angel.  While time has healed the wounds and lessened the pain, the scars are still there.  This year will be the second year that my GeekBoy doesn’t have a joint birthday party with his Grampa.  I miss my dad.  He loved this time year.

I wish I had his joy in the season.  I wish I could be free of the sorrow and depression that drags me down.  I try.  I am not entirely sure how successful I am.  But as long as the kids have a good time, and good memories of their own to look back on…  I’ll have done my job.

This post brought to you by… Boredom.

Ok, really, it’s been almost 2 weeks.  Almost 2 weeks already since this. And I am still in pain.  Not bad, life-stopping pain…  But more like every time it starts to feel better I do something crazy, like, oh food shopping so we can eat next week, and re-injure it.  I really just need a few days of doing nothing.  HA!  Yea, right.  And pigs will fly, and that cow will finally jump over the moon.

The best I can do is to relax on the couch as much as possible, and try to explain to the kids why I’m not going to be jumping up to bend to their every whim.  Besides, sitting on the couch all day is bo-o-oring!  yea.  Extremely so.  We watched the first 6 episodes of the Muppet Show Season 1 this morning, thank you Netflix.   I’ve got a Mythbusters to pull out, but I want to keep that til tomorrow morning.

Let see…  some other fun facts..  It’s 80 degrees in the house right now.  Do I dare turn on the AC?  Maybe I should check to see if AlGore is scheduled to return to the area…  I want to know if spring is truly finally here, or if I should expect a sudden cold snap again.   Temps are still low enough at night to warrant the heat on.  So I’ve got the ceiling fans cranking trying to bring the temp down just a bit.  doesn’t seem to be working though.

My kids are busy trying to beat the living crap out of each other.  They read Sumo Mouse, and are now holding impromptu matches in the Geek’s bedroom.  Judging from the ones I’ve seen run past for “owie bears” (animal shaped ice packs), I’d say BigBoy is winning.  And judging from the yells and crashing noise, I’d say he just took down yet another opponent.  *S*   Hilariously enough, the Geek is in there singing that he has won every “wrestle” at the top of his lungs, yet he was the first to run past for an owie bear.  *S* Methinks he takes after his Grampa.

Grampa would just declare victory, no matter the outcome.  After the first Gulf war, it was even a running gag in our house.  See, after we backed off, Sadam come out of his hole and declared, “We won!”  So my Dad, despite the number of times he’d been beat down with the pillow, would always declare, in his best arabic-ish, “I von! I von!  Heet me again-a!”  (Funny, dad’s Arabian usually sounded more like a bad German  accent, but whatever.)

I was supposed to start the meatloaf 30 minutes ago, but I was too busy typing, and doling out Owie Bears to notice the time.  Oops.

For what it’s worth, it’s now 82 degrees in the house, and I turned on the AC.  It’s taken me about 30 minutes to type all due to the forementioned wrestling matches.  And since I really need to run the oven to cook the meatloaf (thankfully I was smart and prepared it last week!), I need the AC on or we will soon suffer meltdowns.

Time to hit publish.  Get dinner in the oven, and settle the kids down a bit before someone gets all broken and bloodied.  hope ya’ll have enjoyed the stream of randomness…  At least it gave me something to do – that won’t further injure my back – for the oh..  45 minutes or so.  *S*