Hello bloggers-

I just wanted to write to say I am going to take a break for a bit.
I am feeling a bit out of sorts emotionally and have alot of things brewing around in my head and have for the last couple of weeks. I am not sleeping very well and honestly don't feel like I've been taking very good care of me. I am only getting about fours hours of sleep and that just won't do. My body is telling me I need more... so I am going to listen.

I know you may not understand what I am about to say but I will say it anyway.... Over the last couple weeks, I have been triggered by something and I am having a hard time with it. Emotionally I feel myself draining and I don't like feeling that way. I thought maybe it would help by posting about my past. I appreciate all the support that I have gotten and thank you for caring. In all honesty, if the truth be told, what I have written and shared so far is extremely mild. There is much more to the underneath layers and what I have written so far is just the tip of the iceburg, but I don't feel it necessary to take you into the bowels of Hell.. that will go into the book. My point in saying this is that because of what I have shared so far, although it is rather mild, has left me feeling like I am standing naked before you...

My emotions are feeling raw like a wound that is open and bleeding.
So I am going to take a step back and do what I need to to nurture my spirit and get some rest and meditate to center myself again.
Not sure how long I will take but I wanted to post because as we all know, we worry when someone is not around for a few days. I didn't want to just disappear- so just know that I am taking care of myself and I will be back.

I love all of you guys and this community. Right now I just need to do this for me.

Love,
PolarB ;)

From Anna Nalick's song----Just Breathe...................

There's a light at the end of this tunnel you shout
cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made
You'll just make them again if you'll only try turnin' around

2Am and I'm still awake writing this song
If i get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me
threaten' the life it belongs to.
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary screamin' out aloud
And I know that you'll use them however you want to.

But you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand...yeah breath
Just breathe, ohho breathe,

-----------------------------------------------------------------------
If i get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me
threaten' the life it belongs to.
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary screamin' out aloud

Just Breathe..........................
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Lately I have been remembering and thinking alot about my book and finishing it. I wanted to post some pieces of me...I know this is serious stuff and not my usual funny jokes or humor....but I just wanted to talk about my life some more. Soooooo, here goes.

This is an excerpt out of my life....

We had rats for a while in the Smith Road house when the old church that had been abandoned that was next door to us was bought and turned into a used car lot. All the rats that had been living in the church came up through the drainpipes and into our house. It was awful- rats about a foot long. We set out traps and poison and cleared out about seven to ten rats a day there for a while until they were gone. I remember my grandma trying to beat one over the head to kill it when it got caught in a trap. She thought it was dead and was going to pick it up but it jerked around and hissed at her. It scared us both to death. It was a funny sight seeing my grandma whack the rat with her broom. Funny now, but it wasn’t then. Funny because she had on a few occasions, to use that same broom over the top of my hard head when my smart mouth would fire off at her in the typical teenage fashion… those are the things that make me smile now when I remember…..

I turned 15 and was an awkward teenager. I had pimples and the usual teenage angst about my hair, face and body. Truth is that I probably did not take as good of care of myself as I should. I still went to church on Sundays but I felt in so much turmoil because of everything else that I was going through that I had slacked off the religion pretty much. I did not feel like the big man upstairs was listening to me anymore because nothing ever changed. Occasionally I snuck some of my grandmother’s Valiums whenever I would start to feel really bad. It calmed me down and made me feel good inside. I liked the feelings it gave me of being there but in a far off kind of distant way. I kept to myself a lot, feeling like I didn’t fit in. I would go off by myself and sit in the woods, listening to the leaves and the quiet. It was a refuge to me, my escape… My other escape was books, I loved to read and I would escape into the characters lives of the books.

The Smith Road house was the second floor apartment of the house where my best friend Teresa lived downstairs. I tempted the waters a bit and started making comments to my friend saying I thought this girl or that girl was cute. Teresa started raising an eyebrow at my comments and one day we got in a big fight about something and she yelled something about me looking at girl’s ass that it was weird. So I backed off and tucked my thoughts and comments neatly away. I thought maybe I could just tell my best friend how I felt inside, just a little piece of me, but I was wrong. What was one more secret, right?

I dated a couple of boys throughout school but I never really was into it. I had kissed boys and even French kissed and participated in heavy petting stuff teenagers typically do, however it never gave me any feelings that came close to when I would think about a girl. So it did not really matter to me that boys weren’t beating down my door for dates. It’s not like I was in the popular crowd anyway nor was I pretty. My clothes weren’t the best or the coolest and I felt like an outsider most of the time.

I was definitely part of the out crowd at school. I wasn’t into sports, I wasn’t into clubs or the band or any of the things teenagers do. I wanted to join the band once but we did not have money to get a clarinet. I tried out for the Flag Corps and made it, but when some kids in the locker room said –Yeah, the Flag Corps is for all the fat ugly kids who can’t do anything else, I dropped out immediately. We didn’t have money for me to participate in activities or go to dances or sports games at high school. Like I said, I didn’t fit in…I didn’t have a family like everyone else. I was embarrassed to have anyone over to our house after seeing how other people lived. I just wanted to get through school and be done with it.

The summer when I was 15 was a rough one. My grandmother was having a hard time making ends meet. The only income we had was her Social Security check and we had to apply for food stamps. My grandmother had started the process of trying to get financial aid for me because it was becoming a real struggle. My father and his brothers would come over to the house and ask to borrow money or they would come to get something to eat and my uncle would bring his kids too. My grandmother could never say no and she gave it if she had it. I used to argue with her about it telling her that we didn’t have enough to give and she should stop giving in to them. She would tell me I was too outspoken and to mind my own business. The money from the sale of the house was gone so she had no other source. I remember people from church bringing in bags of groceries for us because we did not have food or money. It was humiliating sometimes.

My grandmother came home from church one Sunday night and said she did not feel well. I had already stopped going to church with her by then. It was about an hour later that she called me into the bedroom where she was laying down and told me that I should call an ambulance. They came immediately and whisked her away to the hospital. She was having a heart attack. That was in July of 1980. She never returned home. She was in the hospital for a month and over the course of that month she suffered three major heart attacks.

Throughout the next month, I stayed overnight with friends and cousins. I would go by myself and ride the Metro bus down to the hospital and visit with my grandmother. Once she did not even know who I was and screamed at me to get out. She was highly medicated and did not realize it was me. That was difficult for me to understand. I stayed mostly by myself during that month. My uncle Bobby and his wife came in and out occasionally and would stay overnight.

From the hospital my grandmother had me take care of the monthly bills for that month from her check and whatever money we had left. On August 1st, her Social Security check came in the mail so I took it down to her for her to sign and visit with her a while. She kept trying to rush me to go. She told me I needed to go so I could make it to the bank to cash the check. I couldn’t figure out why she was trying to get rid of me in such a hurry. I left reluctantly. She was trying to get me out of there because I think she knew she was near the end and was going to die that day. It was the last time I saw her alive.

Later that night some friends talked me into going to a movie with them. No sooner than I had paid for my ticket and found a seat in the theater when Teresa’s brother’s girlfriend who I also knew, came in looking for me. She said I had to come with her right away and that it was about my grandmother. Teresa’s father drove me to the hospital and dropped me off. I tried to get them to tell me what was wrong but they would not say. They said my family was all at the hospital and I would find out from them.

When I walked in the doors of the hospital one of my uncles was standing there. He said over and over- She’s dead. She’s dead….I said –No, she isn’t… she can’t be… My stomach felt like it was dropping right out of me and I broke out into a nervous panicky sweat. My ears could not be hearing this right. My father arrived right behind me and we went to the elevator to go up to her room. The doctor was coming out of the room as we got off the elevator. I started running towards him and he tried to stop me from going into the room to my grandmother. He confirmed that she had passed away. I punch him in the stomach to get him out of the way and I started screaming- No! No! No! She can’t be dead! The doctor just kept trying to hold me back.

The nurses tried to not let me see her but I pushed past them. My grandmother was lying on the bed and her body was swollen. Her face and hands were three times the normal size and were extremely puffy and large. It almost did not even look like her because there was so much swelling. The hospital had given my grandmother some medication that caused a severe allergic reaction to her. It caused her to swell up like a balloon. It was too much of a strain on her heart and she ended up having the fourth and final massive heart attack.

I was a mess and a nurse tried to quiet me down telling me I was disturbing all the other patients. It was late and I am sure they were trying to sleep but that was the last thing I was concerned about. The nurse took me into a room and I had to be sedated. Then a sudden revelation struck me. I was not only devastated by the loss of my grandmother but was terrified as to the implications of what that meant to me. My father was trying to comfort me and I kept trying to push him away. I was horrified by the thought that I would have to go back and live with my father. I felt immediate terror.

My favorite uncle Bobby was there and I ran to him and told him- “Please, Bobby don’t leave my side. Whatever you do, please don’t leave me alone with him.” I was referring to my father and even though I was totally devastated by my grandmother’s death, I was scared to death of what my father would do. I was afraid he was going to grab me and take off with me. I did not want to be alone with him for fear he would do something sexual to me. Of all nights- and I had to worry about trying to stay safe from him.

We drove to the funeral home in the middle of the night and the funeral director told us we would have to come back in the morning. I don’t know what we were thinking- I guess we weren’t at that point. We all went back to my grandmother’s house. I sat outside on the front porch all night long. My father sat with me but we did not talk much. I was really worried about where I would go. I felt overwhelmed and was in shock.

The next day I ended up being the one who had to make the arrangements for my grandmother’s funeral. I picked out the casket and made calls to the church and to family to let them know what happened. The funeral director was great and helped me with everything. He took care of all the insurance paperwork and the billing for the funeral costs. We did not have enough money so he worked with me and dropped off a few hundred dollars.

All of my grandmother’s son’s were not very literate which is how I ended up taking care of everything and making all the arrangements. Quite a load for a 15 year old but I did it. I had to. The funeral director told me my grandmother would need a dress. I went shopping with my great aunt who I used to live with to pick out a burial outfit for my grandmother. I ordered the flowers for the funeral and contacted the preacher, an organist and singer for the services. I was so busy doing everything that I don’t think I prepared myself much for the actual funeral.

The funeral went okay and I made it through without a major breakdown. I think I felt numb more than anything and it just felt like I was going through the motions of what needed to be done. It was kind of like those little pills used to make me feel but I had not taken anything. I was amazed how many people came and attended the services for my grandmother. We didn’t have much in life, but she was certainly well thought of and loved. I grieved the loss of her for a long time. I still miss her. Many days I think of her and wish she was here to see me now and I know she would be proud of who I have become.

My cousin came to see me afterwards and I finally was able to let down my guard and fell apart in her arms with grief about my grandmother’s death. She said if I wanted I could come and stay with her for a while. She had a daughter one year younger than me, and we had been close growing up. Back at my grandmother’s house the vultures had set in and were fighting over who got what. I wanted no part of it. Not that there was much to fight over but they picked the place apart. I did not feel it was respectful at all to her or to me. After all it was my home too. About a week after the funeral, my cousin helped me to pack up the remainder of my grandmother’s things that were left and we placed it in storage in her attic until we could figure out what to do with it all.

I stayed with them for a few weeks, and then went to a friend’s house. I didn’t really have a place to call home anymore because my grandmother’s place was only paid up for one month, luckily because I had just paid the rent the day she died. I stayed there but wondered what I was going to do. The state agency found out that my grandmother had died and came looking for me. Because she was in the process of getting financial help, when she died, I became a ward of the State. What that meant was that I could not stay by myself and they started asking me about my father and my mother. I told the social worker I could not live with either one of them. She asked me why. I told her because I’ve never lived with my birth mother because she left when I was six months old. I said – Please don’t make me go live with my father. She wanted to know why not. I would only say because he does things to me. She didn’t ask any further questions and I didn’t say anything more. We agreed that I could stay in the same city since I only had two more years of school but she needed to find me a place to stay.

My cousin who helped store my grandmother’s things in the attic stepped forward and said I could stay with them. She told me God spoke to her and wanted her to do this. It seemed like a good thing and I took her up on her offer. They became my foster family and had to get licensed in order to keep me. The state sent them a monthly check for keeping me. We ended up selling some of my grandma’s furniture to buy me some school clothes. I turned 16 and was in my junior year of high school.

I had become very close to a guidance counselor at school. Her name was Donna. She noticed that my clothes and general appearance was better from what it had previously been. I told her about my grandmother and the social worker met with her about me. She was a real life saver for me throughout my high school years and seemed to genuinely care about me. We had many long talks about general school stuff and my feelings. I never discussed with her my feelings for other girls or anything about my father. I don’t know if she knew that or not, but I trusted her and felt safe with her. She made me feel like I mattered and she was a very special person to me. She is one of the only people from school that I have stayed in contact with over the years. Every Christmas we send cards to each other to keep in touch and I have much gratitude for her caring and thoughtfulness. She always tried to find a way to make me smile and brighten my day. It’s those type of people in my life that got me through my situation and kept me from ending my life.

I don’t know if anything was ever said to my father or not, but I do know my cousin asked me if he did things to me. I shook my head yes but did not elaborate. I think the social worker told her. My father again stayed away for a long time. But eventually throughout the school year he drifted back into my life. He drove by as I was walking home from school one day. He stopped and told me to get in the car. I was afraid but was more scared of not doing what he told me. He talked nasty with his vulgarities and touched me and when he dropped me off at my cousin’s house he told me- You’ll always be mine, don’t ever forget that.

It upset me that he was back and I felt like I would never be free of him. I went up into the attic where my grandmother’s things were and I cut my arms until they bled. They were not deep cuts and I did not do it across my wrist, but up and down the insides of my arms. I hated that it was starting all over again. Those feelings of suicide started creeping in again. Instead, I chose to numb out my feelings but I did continue to hurt myself in ways I covered up, like cutting and scratching my arms. Somehow I got the phone number to a suicide hotline- 241-CARE or something like that. I remember spending a lot of time talking on that line with a woman who helped me through many nights.

I got through my junior school year and my cousin informed me that it was not fair to her daughter to have to share a room with me and that I would have to leave. So much for what God told her he wanted her to do. Another let down from the Almighty. A friend of another cousin said she had extra room and I could stay with them. She said they would be glad to be my foster parents. I moved in with them only to have to move out a few weeks later because her son had to move back home when he lost his job. I tried another cousin and was staying in her basement for a few weeks. Had my own little apartment set up down there. When that fell through, I went off on my own to stay with another cousin who was a bit wild. Up to that point I had shied away from drinking and partying as long as I had lived with my grandma. Oh, I had moments that I went off the straight and narrow, but up until then I was a pretty good kid as far as that was concerned.

After my grandmother died, I really did not give a rat’s ass about myself or anything.
I was trying to keep away from my father by moving around from friends to cousins and staying wherever I pleased. When I went to hang out with my wild cousin, I let loose. I started drinking and partying. She taught me how to smoke pot. I remember practicing in the bathroom in case someone came and saw me. I was smoking cigarettes, then pot and hash. There were times I went to bars at ten in the morning and would be absolutely wasted by noon and had to literally crawl home. You think I’m kidding? I literally crawled along the sidewalk all the way home at one point. I really don’t know how I made it through this period of my life because I ended up in some really dangerous situations. We used to go to some wild ass parties. There was always tons of booze and drugs. I never tried the real hard drugs but I got stoned and drunk every time we would go out.

My cousin and I would go to these biker’s houses and smoke pot from floor model bongs and get so high that you could not even see straight much less function right. We were hanging out with bikers from Hell’s Angels. Some of them were pretty scary dudes. None bothered with me, maybe because they knew I was underage… who knows. Maybe I was just damn lucky….My guardian angel sure had her work cut out for her… I can’t tell you how many times I ended up not knowing where I was and I would find my cousin passed out in some stranger’s bed. I would pass out on the floor or the couch and wake up sick and not know how to get out. One specific time, some older man helped me unlock the door of the house we were in because I did not know where I was. I went outside and threw up in the front yard. I’m sure the neighbors liked that. One time I woke up in a bathtub that I had passed out in. Luckily, somehow I made it without getting into serious trouble or seriously hurt.

It wasn’t long before the social worker came looking for me. She was hot under the collar about my cousins letting me go off on my own when they were still my official foster parents and collecting the state checks for me. I told her that I was okay and that I would just live by myself. She told me I could not do that until I graduated from high school or turned eighteen whichever came first, but until then the state was still responsible for me. She informed me I would have to go into another foster home. This time it would be with a family that I did not even know.

My mother was a fanatic about public toilets.

As a little girl, she'd bring me in the stall, teach me to wad up toilet paper and wipe the seat. Then, she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper to cover the seat. Finally, she'd instruct, "Never, never sit on a public toilet seat."

And she'd demonstrate "The Stance," which consisted of balancing over the toilet in a sitting position without actually letting any of your flesh make contact with the toilet seat. But by this time, I'd have wet down my leg. And we'd go home.

That was a long time ago. Even now in our more mature years, The Stance is excruciatingly difficult to maintain when one's bladder is especially full. When you have to "go" in a public bathroom, you find a line of women that makes you think there's a half-price sale on Mel Gibson's underwear in there. So, you wait and smile politely at all the other ladies, also crossing their legs and smiling politely. And you finally get closer. You check for feet under the stall doors. Every one is occupied.

Finally, a stall door opens and you dash, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter. You hang your purse on the door hook, yank down your pants and assume "The Stance." Relief. More relief.

Then your thighs begin to shake. You'd love to sit down but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold The Stance as your thighs experience a quake that would register an eight on the Richter scale.

To take your mind off it, you reach for the toilet paper. The toilet paper dispenser is empty. Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on that's in your purse. It would have to do. You crumble it in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work and your purse whams you in the head. "Occupied!" you scream as you reach out for the door, dropping your tissue in a puddle and falling backward, directly onto the toilet seat.

You get up quickly, but it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with all the germs and life forms on the bare seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper, not that there was any, even if you had enough time to. And your mother would be utterly ashamed of you if she knew, because her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, "You don't know what kind of diseases you could get."

And by this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, sending up a stream of water akin to a fountain and then it suddenly sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged to China. At that point, you give up. You're soaked by the splashing water. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a Chicklet wrapper you found in your pocket, then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the sinks with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past a line of women, still waiting, cross-legged and unable to smile politely at this point. One kind soul at the very end of the line points out that you are trailing a piece of toilet paper on your shoe as long as the Mississippi River!

You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and say warmly, "Here. You might need this."

At this time, you see your spouse, who has entered, used and exited his bathroom and read a copy of War and Peace while waiting for you. "What took you so long?" he asks, annoyed.

This is when you kick him sharply in the shin and go home.

This is dedicated to all women everywhere

who have ever had to deal with a public toilet.

And it finally explains to all you men what takes us so long.

Author Unknown

Came across this as I was cleaning out emails and it still makes me chuckle. Enjoy!

PolarB ;)

Hello Bloggers!!

Okay- I didn't intend to take the whole weekend off from the stream here but I did manage to get most of my shopping done!! Yeah and I still have money left over! I am so glad to get that out of the way... you just don't know... It went really great- Lovey and I got up at 4:00 am and got dressed, grabbed a cup of coffee and off we went. I got some great deals! Bought Lovey a new coat at 60 % off- what a bargain! Most things I bought were at least 50 to 60 % off so I can't complain there. Of course I bought some stuff for me too. The stores weren't too awfully bad. I stood in one line at my favorite store exactly one hour to check out but the rest of the stores I hardly had to wait. We were done by 12:30 and got some lunch and dragged all our shopping bags home. I have to give credit to my girl because boy does she ever hate to shop but she was a real trooper and behaved all day- Not one little gripe! I am proud of her.

Kazza- yes I finally got some pumpkin pie- Yummy! Warm it up in the microwave for about 35 seconds and slather with some whipped cream! Ummmmm!!! I went to bed early Friday night- was exhausted! Then yesterday we decided to go to the movies and we saw the new Harry Potter movie. I love HP! The movie was a little dark in spots and I thought it may be a bit scary for kids but overall I liked it. Lovey and I should go to the movies more often because we really do like it. I think instead of us doing Christmas stockings this year we will decide to just get a bunch of movie giftcards to use through out the year. I don't like scary movies like the slasher/crazed killer films or anything like that- gives me nightmares, I prefer and love comedies, dramas, and good old fashion love stories. Some of my favorites are- Message in a Bottle, On Golden Pond, Somethings Gotta Give, BirdCage, What Women Want, Mrs Doubtfire, Nemo, What Dream May Come, Powder- which I thought was an interesting movie. Lovey likes war movies and they are okay too if they have a good story.

Last night came home after the movie and decided to have a couple Bloody Marys and we made a snack tray with cheeses, summer sausage and crackers. Just hung out and watched the old telly...Today we are relaxing some more.. I might decide to bake some cookies or make some yummy carmel popcorn later..I have a great recipe that I want to try out.. Somebody at work made some last year and it is the best carmel popcorn I've ever tasted in my life. If you like carmel popcorn- you will be hooked for life. I used to love PoppyCock but it is way better! I'll let ya know how it turns out if I do it later.

We haven't even thought about Christmas lights yet... I suppose we will put some out... We usually have a really great display of all white lights on the house and green pine garland and lights with red bows on the fence but I am not sure we are gonna get it all out this year. Usually we have it all done by now and flip the lights on Thanksgiving night... but we are a bit behind. I will probably get the tree out next weekend.....

Ahhhh well- just wanted to catch up a bit with you. Hope you all had a great holiday weekend and are busy getting ready for the next one.
Feliz Navidad!

PolarB ;)