I like your crap.

The other day I stopped and got dad a fish dinner from a local restaurant. He sits at the table and is eating away like he hadn’t had a meal in days and all of the sudden he says : ” I like your crap better than anybody’s!”

I paused for a second and said “Huh?”

He repeated very enthusiastically “I like your crap better than anybody’s!  It’s the best crap ever!”

If you knew my dad, you would know that just thinking the word crap is a huge no-no for him. Much less vocalizing it.

At least its nice to know he likes my crap.

PC crap

I work from home, so our support room is virtual. I don’t have anyone standing over my shoulder or in the next cubicle to chat with or bounce ideas off of, but we do have a virtual room that we sit in and chat between calls. Today one of my co-workers made a comment about a client, she stated that the caller was cancelling her account due to thinking something was immoral, and then added that the client “Bible Thumped” her and she wanted to tell the client she was gay just to get a reaction out of her.

That remark flew all over me.

I’m sorry but it did.

If you have read here for any length of time, you know, I am a Bible believing woman, but I am also PRO gay rights. I’m a mixed up kind of gal.  But that comment, saying she wanted to get a reaction out of a caller and her reference to the client as a Bible Thumper, well, that crossed the thin line for me.

The thing is, if I say anything at all in rebuttal or call her out on it, I will get in trouble. Not her, but me. Why?  Because it isn’t PC to call a gay person out on THEIR prejudices, but it is for them to call me out on mine.

Something is wrong with this picture.

I’m almost there

There it is.

On my desk, staring at me.

Its just a book.

Innocent, not dangerous or threatening in the least.

But I can’t make myself pick it up. To open its pages. To read its words.

This is a book I received a few months ago to review. I had been looking forward to reading it. It seemed like just the perfect book for this time in my life.

Then I read a few pages.

They stung.

They hurt.

They rubbed places that I thought were healed, and opened them making them raw to the air.

Part of me wants to read this book. I know I will be better off for it. It will help me take a step forward in gaining back what I have lost where my relationship , religion, love for church, love for my fellow man is concerned.


I said it.

It’s out in black and white.

No turning back now.

Somewhere, in the past several years, I have lost my love. I have lost my joy. I want it back. Oh I want it back so badly.

I can spout pretty words with the best of them. I can tell you exactly what you need to do to fix your life. But I have no idea how to fix mine.

I have faith.

I love God.

I believe in God.

but somehow, somewhere, I lost a key part of me.

I have no idea how to get it back. There is this hole, or shadow, or something indescribable where it used to be. I feel an urgency to get it back.

I’m not sure I want to go through the pain of peeling back the layers upon layers of protection I have surrounded myself with to get that joy, that feeling of completeness back.

Some may read this and think, oh she’s unhappy, or depressed, or whining.

Trust me, I am not any of those things.

I have happy.

I am not depressed.

I am not whining.

I am, however missing something. Something that I used to have.

I used to treasure my church.

I used to love the relationships I had within the church.

I loved working in church.

I loved going to church.

I treasured my time at church.

Now I long for it.

I find myself driving around, looking for a place I can have that feeling again.

I haven’t been able to find a church that completes me. One that says “Hi! Here I am. Come on in, let me push that shadow aside.”  I find places that I like one part, but not another.  I like the music here, the pastor there, the people, well, I haven’t found one yet that makes me feel at home.

I visited one church at least a dozen times, only one person asked my name.

Another church I have been to several times, not once has anyone took time to see who I am or what I might need.

All I need, all I want is for someone to smile, ask how I am, and invite me to bible study, sunday school, or something.

Meanwhile, I stare at this book, knowing it will help, but also knowing it will hurt like everything while it is helping. I know that to get better, I must see my faults, my issues, with clarity and openness. I must see things for how they are, not how I want them to be.

I’m almost there.

I’m not adulting today.

Today my patience has come to an end. I need a break. I need a day off, maybe two, or three.

I get up today and the first thing dad says is he doesn’t feel like going to no church today. Ok, I say, that’s fine.

Then, while I am showering, he goes outside and starts walking away. I ask where he’s going. No where he says,  just walking trying to find where all those people went.  What people? I ask. All those that were causing a ruckus earlier he tells me.

There were no people here causing a ruckus I explain to him. He then points out all the non existent cars in the driveway. Yeah… I don’t see any I tell him. He points to our car, what about our car! See there is a car in the yard.

Then he goes on to tell me how bad I need to clean up the car, get it painted and all sorts of stuff. I just turn around and walk back in the house. I will keep an eye on him from the kitchen window.

He comes back in by the time I have his breakfast finished.

I tell him its by his chair waiting for him, he tells me no, thats just some old junk that he didn’t like to begin with and left it there because it was no good.  I let him know it was fresh that I had just finished making while he was out chasing the ghost people.

I give him his morning medicine. He tells me he’s already had it today. Knowing that I am the only one to give it to him today, I tell him Nope, he hasn’t, to take what I just gave him.  He responds with You’re mad today aren’t you.

I’ve been up for two hours and already dealt with the above, and more that I just didn’t want to type out. Its gonna be one of those days.  I’m grateful he’s here, I am thankful he is still with us. We had a scare a couple of weeks ago that really got to all of us. It made us realize, we aren’t ready for him to go.

I feel like dirt that he has noticed my bad attitude. But at the same time, I hope it will jar him enough to remember, to be the dad he used to be. I know it won’t happen.

A girl can wish can’t she.

Days like today are the ones I need friends close by, to come and relieve me, take me shopping or out to eat, or just to sit and be.  Stud is working, all of the boys are working except Oldest, daughter is working.

This is when I miss living back in old state. I could call up a friend and see if she wanted to get away for a bit, just for lunch or coffee. I could escape and not be me for a couple of hours.  Here, I don’t have that option.  I don’t have any friends close by, they are all in old state.  Usually it doesn’t bother me. Today it does.

So for now, I am in my bedroom with the door closed. Hoping beyond hope that Dad  behaves, doesn’t go for a walk, set the house on fire or flood his bathroom. Or any number of things he can do. I just need a few minutes to collect myself and then, maybe then I can adult again.

Something needs to change

I want to move to an uninhabited island somewhere.

Our country is so confused, so completely PC and just messed up with tromping over this groups rights, vs tromping over another groups rights. Its pathetic.

Somehow, we live in a country where Taylor Swift is called racist because she put out a video based on old Hollywood love stories, set in the 50’s in Africa.

We live in a country where high school girls in Missouri are now having to share their bathroom with a transgender person, who is still male, but lives as a female.

We live in a country where small business owners have no say in who they do business with.

We live in a country where our citizens are having to watch our police officer’s backs, as well as our military personnel.

We live in a country where a person is considered a hero for changing their gender.

We live in a country where our war veterans are scorned and have to wait months, sometimes years to get the help and aide they need desperately.

We live in a country where the confederate flag is banned, but the IS flag is not.

We live in a country where the people who enter it illegally, get benefits from our government, while our elderly are told they do not qualify, even though they were born here, and in a lot of cases, fought wars to protect the very rights of the ones entering the country illegally.

We live in a country where we are mandated to have health insurance, and if we can’t afford that health insurance, we are penalized, and fined for not having it.

We live in a country that used to be a proud one.

We live in a country that other countries now make the butt of their jokes.

Something needs to change.

What the ….

Its funny how life seems to change.

Today, Son2 got a job offer in Michigan. We live no where near Michigan. While he is mulling this over, Son4 makes it known that he would like to go with Son2, and starts looking for job prospects there.  Then Son3 tells me that little does anyone know, but he would like to make the change as well.

I get home and Daughter in law tells me that her and Oldest are hoping to move out when he makes a couple of sales at work.

How is a mom supposed to respond to that?

In a matter of minutes my house went from overflowing to being relatively empty once everyone’s plans take place. It would be Stud, Myself, My dad, and youngest here. That’s it. My home hasn’t been that empty since Son2 was born almost 24 years ago.

Youngest won’t know how to deal with being the only one here. He has never known life with just him and no other brother to take the attention. He won’t have anyone to bicker with or to conspire with. Or anyone to take the heat when he gets in trouble.

I know that eventually they all have to move on and get their own lives going away from our sheltered home, but do they really have to do it all at once?  Can’t they just ease me in to it?  I seriously pictured them leaving one by one when they married. Not in droves at the drop of a hat.

I feel a mid life crisis breakdown coming on.

Girl in the Song

I went to the post office earlier and there was the package I had been waiting for. It was a book, Girl in the Song by Chrissy Cymbala Toledo. That was about 1pm yesterday. Now, it’s 3am and I just finished it. That is how amazing this book is.

Chrissy Cymbala Toledo, not only touched me, she reached in grabbed my heart and gave it a good tug, over and over and over again. I bawled my eyes out for most of the book. Her story is inspired. It is heart breaking. It is me.

From the time I read the email about being on the launch team for Girl in the the Song, I knew I had to read this book. I went to Amazon to see if I could order it, but had to put it off until next paycheck. Then I saw on FB the launch team was doing a giveaway for Starbucks. You know me, I love me some Starbucks. I entered. I won. Someone from the launch staff contacted me and I didn’t really think anymore about it. Until the same staff member sent me a message that they wanted to send me a copy of the book, could I give them my address. I smiled. Again, I knew this book was one that somehow had been written for me.

I know that Girl in the Song was written for more than just me, but it feels as if it was specifically done with me in mind. That’s how much I connected with the book. I was Chrissy in her younger years. I made a lot of the same bad decisions she did. I heard the same voices telling me I wasn’t good enough. I still hear those voices.

After reading Girl in the Song by Chrissy Cymbala Toledo, I know I am not alone in my thoughts of never being good enough. The ones that tell me I am too fat, I’m not aging gracefully, that I will never be a good enough wife or mother. The thoughts and voices that plague me and take away my joy. I realized tonight, I am not alone. Other women share my thoughts, they hear the same voices, with the same words. But like them, I am Chosen by the most Perfect One.

Girl in the Song will most definitely stay on my desk, not even on the book shelf, but near, where I can reread parts that lifted me out of the despair I was feeling when I sat down tonight to read.