Ode to... me

"Curve: The loveliest distance between two points."
~Mae West

"I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don't mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I wnt to be dominated. I don't mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capagle of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding." Anais Nin

To: you, Love, V.



Today I was told, "Thank you for being you..."

I think that was probably

my favorite thing anyone

has ever said to me.

Making HIS band


Have you guys seen Making His Band?

The first episode was on last night.

I just watched it and it was


If you think you know Diddy

or know Making the band,

you don't.

You HAVE to watch this.

I have been a fan of his from day #1.

If you know me, you know I love me some Diddy.

I think I have always been able to see through the

bullcrap hip-hop persona that he puts on

that makes people think he's too arrogant or cocky.

I think this season will show the real him.

Most of all, though, this season shows MUSIC.

Real, genuine, music.

And this first episode was so good.


THINK about it....

This morning when I got home from work, I turned on the latest episode of Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List. I love her show and normally it gets me laughing so hard I about pee my pants, but today I found myself sitting on my couch crying.

This episode she tackled the issue of becoming an activist and naturally, she chose gay rights and fighting against the ridiculous prop-8 in California. In the process, she befriended and recruited some young gay people to march with her, etc. One of her major points was that young people these days (and older people as well; ALL people I suppose) have become complacent. They have no idea what they're really fighting for or why and most of the time they don't fight at all. She tried to inspire them by talking about the tragic story of Matthew Shepard and they stared at her blankly, not knowing who she was talking about.

Are you staring at THIS blankly,

not knowing who I am talking about?

If so,

I am so sad.

For those who don't know, Matthew Shepard was a young man of 21 years who was lured from a bar with promises of receiving a ride home from two guys who had purposed themselves to kill a gay person that night. They didn't care who. They only knew that they were full of hate and wanted to act on it. And they did.

They drug him to the middle of nowhere, severely beat him and then tied him to a cattle fence and left him hanging there to die. He was found about 18 hours later, unconscious, and was taken to a hospital where he never regained consciousness and died a few days later.

All because he was gay.

And all because someone...

parents? church? schoolmates?

taught these other men that being gay

is so wrong that it's ok to KILL someone for it.

When I first heard about this in 1998, I have to say that I think it was my very first exposure to hate crimes. I may have heard of them before, but this was the first time the lightbulb came on for me and my heart was broken over it. Not long after, Melissa Etheridge came out with the song called "Scarecrow" (which I will put down below) where she talked about the thought of him left hanging there like a scarecrow haunts her mind and it has haunted mine ever since as well. I just CANNOT understand it.

I can't wrap my mind around the concept of hating and hurting someone like that. I think perhaps living with the evil one and all of his rage and cruelty created in me a person that has absolutely zero tolerance for hatred that hurts other people. I can't fathom it and church, say what you will to me, there will never come a day that I have breath in my body that I will ever teach my children to hate someone just because they are gay. It will never happen. God does NOT hate gay people. At least not MY God; the one true God. It doesn't matter what your beliefs are or what the Bible says, this isn't a matter of sin or of good vs. evil. This is a matter of a human heart...and God is love.
And moreover, this is America...

and if they can tell me my kids can't pray in school...

and that abortion is legal...

then I will stand strong in the conviction

that religion (even if it is MY religion)

should not dictate whether gay people deserve the right

to be happy, fulfilled and protected

under the same rights that everyone eles is afforded

simply because they are straight.

Think about it. No really... THINK about it. How, in ANY way, would your life...your PERSONAL, EVERYDAY life, be affected if gay people were allowed to marry? Probably not at all. But there are people all over the place that are not only opposed to it, but are willing to HURT someone...even KILL them...for wanting what almost all of us want. To fall in love, settle down and have a stable family life.

This has nothing to do with sin, because we are ALL sinners. It just makes me so sad that we are still not past this and that people are still being hurt over it.


Happy Monday!!!

LOOOOOONG workend.

Glad to have a night (read: SINGULAR)

before I have to go back and do it all over again.

*tired. must. sleep.*

after I eat ice cream

and watch reality tv, of course. :)

Love y'all!


Friday Five

  1. I'M BORED! Yep, that about sums it up. I need a life.
  2. I had a job interview Thursday that went SO GOOD! I'm super excited about it and can't wait to hear the official-official offer in a few days (they already told me I was being offered the job, but haven't gotten the official money offer yet). This will be perfect and honestly, I will have trouble sticking it out till the end of my contract at this other rat hole I'm in.
  3. I had a dream about my old friend Pepe the other day. Since then he's been on my mind in a heavy way and I wonder what he's up to.
  4. I'm OVER summer. So ready for the heat to go away. Bring on the fall!
  5. Miss my kids and am beginning to gear up for everyone to be coming home and getting back to "real" life & school. I have to be honest, I will miss the peace and quiet that I've had lately, but I will be VERY happy to have my girls back in the nest where they belong.



Just got back from the theater...







(don't see it if you are squeamish or offend easily)


Madelaine Baby



to my beautiful Madelaine Baylee...

I'm happy every day that I know you

and get to call you my daughter.



My DVR right now

Tell me some good stuff y'all are DVR'ing right now!

As you know, I'm a reality tv junkie,

so that's mostly what mine is.

Here's what I'm watching right now:

  2. Wipeout
  3. HawthoRNe (Everyone is raving about this show and how good it is. I'm not digging it. It's SO unrealistic, although I applaud Hollywood for trying to make a show about nursing instead of doctoring.)
  4. Miami Social
  5. NYC Prep
  6. The Little Couple
  7. The View (I only ever watch the Hot Topics then delete it).
  8. Real World
  9. Charm School ( who do you want to win? I want Ashley to win only because I love her crazy butt. And I love the way she says "bitch" (it's like a throaty, gutteral sound like BETCH but stretched out long and low)
  10. Daisy of Love (I hope 12 pack wins)
  11. Kathy Griffin/My Life on the D-List
  12. Hammertime
  13. Kendra (over it though. she has the most irritating laugh, seriously)
  14. I Survived a Japanese Game Show
Yes, I know. My brain is rotting out with this stuff. :)


Rough draft....

I thought I would give you all a glimpse

into what I've been having to rehash and purge from my soul lately.

You all know that I've been working on writing a memoir,

and that it's been a little rough for me.

Here is a chapter that I wrote tonight.

Keep in mind that it's a rough draft,

and so I KNOW that it's kind of a mess.

The tenses are all off, it's not very flowery and hasn't been "pumped" up yet,

etc etc.

But I wanted to share with you the kind of stuff that I'm trying to get out.

Here it is....


I can’t remember when it all started. The abuse, that is. You’d think something as important as this would be struck in my mind to live in infamy forever and ever, but truth-be-told, most of it just blurs, one event into the next, becoming one larger than life, shameful disaster.
Really, it’s like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg, (which, by the way, the chicken did…it’s in the Bible. Yes it is! Look it up for yourself! God created the animals, not the seeds or eggs, etc.) Anyways, back to what I was saying, it’s hard to remember which came first, the slapping, the choking, the porn addiction, or the verbal and emotional abuse. I think it was probably a simple lack of respect for boundaries and my decisions that came first, except back then, in the early days, I didn’t recognize what he was doing as abusive. From the very beginning he tried his best to control me, not let me have very much space for myself and without question, making decisions for myself were a thing of the past.
I remember so clearly all the times when I was trying to make him leave at night so that I could get some sleep,he would force his booted foot into the door frame so that I couldn’t shut him out, and then began acting like a jerk; definitely inconsiderate and selfish, but I would never have called that abuse. It was though, make no doubt about it. I know that now. The end of those scenes were always the same, after standing around the door for sometimes hours, refusing to let him back in, but unable to close the door around his heavy foot, I finally conceded and went to bed, which meant that with no one there to stop him, he merely walked right back in the house and took back over. He had absolutely no regard for the fact that I still had a baby and was exhausted, or for the fact that I was still married and did not want him spending the night at my house. He just didn’t care.
So if that was the first step, the lack of respect and pushing boundaries, I would say his next step would be to slowly, so so slowly, begin to tear down my self esteem. Every opportunity he got, he would make me feel guilty or ungrateful or wrong about something. Then he started picking apart my appearance and the clothes I wore, labeling them as slutty or whorish. Mind you, none of this happened over night, that change would have been too drastic and I never would have stayed involved in that mess.
No, it happened slowly, kind of the same way you boil frogs. If you throw the frog into boiling water, it will jump right back out of the pot. But, if you place it in cool or lukewarm water, and then turn the heat up underneath the pot, the frog will sit there as it boils to death and his legs are served up on some seafood buffet.
Every argument we would get in, he would turn the flame up just slightly until he was regularly saying things like, “You’re a no good fucking whore with 2 kids and no education, what do you know? And there’s no way anyone is ever going to want you again because your used goods and you’re fat. You need to learn to do better around here so that I don’t decide to kick your ass out on the streets with those kids because no one will be there to help you. You’re a fat, used up whore; you’re lucky I took pity on you.”
Of course, we were fighting more and more because of the way he was treating and talking to me and this was not okay with me. I kept trying to let him know, in no uncertain terms, that this was not acceptable. The problem is that he didn’t listen, in fact, he decided to turn up the heat. He didn’t hit me very often. No, his drug of choice was to restrain me so that I couldn’t get away, combined with choking. Oh, and in the process of restraining me, he broke each of my wrists at different times and also some fingers, sprained my ankles so bad I had to get casts put on them (and he refused to take me to the emergency room too. It was only after I’d threatened to call the police, yet again, with an ambulance this time because I literally couldn’t walk or even stand, he finally helped me to the hospital, but I had to crawl (literally; on hands and knees) out to the car (down the porch, through the gravel, etc.) and get myself up in the van somehow because he refused to help me (calling me a dramatic bitch the whole time and kicking gravel at me). After spending hours in the emergency room, I had casts on both legs. Of course, then he was all about kissing my butt because he looked like a fool when it was proven there really was something wrong with me.
See, that’s how abuse works. It’s all about the cycle of violence. Tension building (he’s acting stank, but hasn’t done anything yet), explosion (actual abuse), then the honeymoon period (when he claims to feel bad about the way he has treated you and now attempts to treat you like a queen and offers up promises of change. The problem is that with bonafide abusers, change never comes. It’s an impossibility with them; It is who they are).
In those first several months of tension building, when it was mostly verbal abuse that was prevalent, one of his major sources of contention with me was music. I remember buying Salt-n-Peppa’s album Very Necessary, which could also be very filthy or very suggestive. I was so naive back then; it never occurred to me to change my behavior just because he was acting like a douche, so I would belt these songs out at the top of my lungs and learn every rap in every song. He would always end up looking over at me with the evilest of eyes and say, “You sure are singing that song with an awful lot of conviction, aren’t you? Are you trying to tell me something? You trying to tell me the words of that song mean that much to you? They must hit home? Is that because you’re a whore? Are you cheating on me?” On and on, over and over. I could have recorded him and played it on a loop to get the same effect.
As you can expect, what this did for me was want to push him away. I had no idea how to do this though, and second-guessed my decisions constantly. If I try to make him leave, how do I do that, because I’ve already told you that he won’t leave. I actually called the police one time and they wouldn’t make him leave even though it was my apartment, because he had clothes there and had been staying, therefore, he was considered my domestic partner and I couldn’t kick him out.
You should have seen the grin on his face when he heard that! He knew now that he could do whatever he wanted and I couldn’t make him leave. It confirmed my worst fears that I really didn’t have any control in the situation and that I was stuck. I had made my decision and now had to live with it. Even the police wouldn’t take him away.
I always remembered the days before he showed up in my life and how horrible they were for me and the kids. I didn’t want to go back to that place again. At least when the evil one was here, he did pay the bills and groceries. He also had a new car and a steady job. I’ve known him for so long that I know he’s not a horrible person, so maybe he’s acting like this because of the stress of the situation? Taking on a new family is very stressful and maybe he’s having a little trouble with it. This is how I would rationalize it away, over and over.
I don’t know that this was the first time he had gotten physical with me, but I know it was definitely the first time he went to jail for domestic violence. It was early in the morning and I was sleeping. The night before, the evil one had went out and bought a new video game system and had gotten up early this morning to go play it. What I heard next, no mother should have to hear the sounds of. I guess Darren (who had just turned two) had gotten out of bed before anyone and was curious about the new game. Of course, he had no idea how to make it worked, so he simply picked up one of the controllers and was looking at the pretty buttons; this is where the evil one entered.
I bolted upright out of sleep by the most high-pitched, blood-curdling screams coming from my baby boy. Over and over again, these shrills were piercing through the morning air and it sounds like he was being attacked by a pit-bull or something! I flew (literally, I think) into the living room to find him hanging mid-air, by the one little baby arm that the evil one had snatched him up by. In his other hand was the chord to the controller that he was using as a whip to beat Darren with, all over his legs, butt and back as he dangled helplessly in the air. From across the room I could see the huge red and white welts beginning to form on Darren’s legs as he continued to shriek for help, especially after he saw me enter the room.
The change was instant! My vision turned from sleepy and dreamy to R-E-D. I had heard of people seeing red before, but had never experienced it myself until this moment. To see my child, my baby child being beaten, and to see how helpless and scared he was as he searched for me with wild, terrorized eyes; simply put, I will never be the same after that incident and it made me see the most violent, wild shade of red known to mankind.
Pure, unadulterated rage boiled out from inside of me as I lunged at him and stole my son out of the grips of this monster. Darren scrambled onto me like a terrified baby monkey and couldn’t cling hard enough as he cried a thousand tears into my hair. I screamed the loudest screams I think I had ever screamed before, as I asked the evil one what the hell he was doing.
“He was touchin’ my game! He needed taught a lesson! But noooo, the little baby had to be rescued by his mama! You’re gonna turn him into a little pussy, you know that right? He deserved it and I’d do it again!” He said all of this so defiantly and tauntingly, that I went and placed Darren in Courtney’s bed with her and shut the door before returning to the scene of the crime. He’s only lucky that I didn’t grab a knife or a blunt object on my way back in.
I immediately lunged at him and shoved him as hard as I could. I was furiously screaming at him, “Who do you think you are? Don’t you EVER touch my children again! If you do, I will kill you! How DARE you!” Basically, I screamed all of the things that any mother would have screamed. The thing is that he wasn’t having it; especially since he felt justified in what he had just done.
Immediately after I shoved him, I think he was a little shocked that the meek and quiet little girl was actually confronting him. He stood there with a somewhat amused look on his face watching this five foot, four inch tall girl try to kick his six foot, two inch ass and thought it was funny at first; but when he saw that I was serious and that the mother bear had come out to protect her cub, he wasn’t amused anymore.
What I was trying to do was not to fight him. I was trying to physically push him out of my house so that we would be safe while I called the police on him for hurting my baby.
It didn’t work.
Once he caught on to what I was trying to do, he came at me full-force, picking me up by the throat and slamming me against the dining room wall. “You wanna try to force me out of here bitch? You forget, I’ve paid for you! I bought you with all the bills I’ve paid and the food I’ve bought; you’re mine whore!” With one hand still holding me against the wall by my throat, he used his other hand to try and pull my panties down so that he could rape me.
Even through my panic, I could hear the doorknob to the kids’ bedroom starting to turn and I knew that one of them was trying to get out. They weren’t quite old enough to know exactly how to get the knob turned all the way yet though and were struggling to make it happen. My heart began racing even harder at the thought of them seeing what was taking place and I screamed as loud as I could for them to stay in the bedroom.
“Why?” He asked. “It’s about time they saw what Mommy is really good for…being a whore. Of course, I wouldn’t even say that you’re good at that, because you couldn’t even keep your husband. What kind of a woman can’t keep her husband? You even suck at what God gave you naturally…being a woman.”
The harder I struggled against him, the harder his grip around my throat became, until I thought I might pass out. He had stopped trying to get my underwear down because I think he knew that it was futile; I was fighting way too hard for him to successfully make anything sexual happen at that point. Instead, he decided to simply overpower me and show me who was boss and had managed to get a hold of both of my wrists in one of his hands while continuing to choke me with the other. I knew that I needed to get away from him or he might kill me. Having my kids come out to see me being hurt is horrible enough, to see me dead would be completely another.
I knew I had to get loose and the only part of my body I had left to use was my head. I drew my head back as far away from him as I could and with all the force I had in my body, I smashed my forehead into his face. Immediately, his hands released from my body as a howl of pain escaped him. Blood covered everything around us, including me and I knew that I had broken his nose.
I wasn’t able to run like I thought I would because my own pain was so intense that I could only fall to my knees. I felt like my skull had exploded. My ears were ringing and I was seeing stars; literally. As my vision began to clear a little bit, I began crawling toward the phone. The evil one had gone into the bathroom to get a towel for his nose, all the while screaming what a “fucking bitch” I was. As I crawled toward the phone, I could hear both Courtney and Darren in their bedroom, crying loudly. I knew they were scared and crying for me, even though they couldn’t see what was happening. It was loud enough for them to be able to hear everything.
It seemed to take forever to reach the corner where the phone lay on a table, but I finally managed to get it in my hands. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt relief like I did when I was able to punch in the numbers 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, do you need police, fire or ambulance?”
If I were more coherent after head-butting him so hard that I gave myself a concussion, I might have heard him coming up behind me, but I didn’t. Before I knew what was happening, I felt him grab the phone out of my hand and then he used it to strike me square between the eyes as hard as he could over and over. The bridge of my nose split open and there was blood flying everywhere.
From somewhere, I found a reserve of energy and felt a rage coming over me that empowered me enough to bound off of the floor and tackle him, knocking him back and off-balance. I ran for the front door, managing to get it unlocked and open before he grabbed me by my hair. Elizabeth had heard the commotion and quietly tried to make her way down the steps to see what was going on. What she saw was him pick me up as if I weighed nothing and throw me like a ragdoll across the room. I went over the top of the recliner that sat in front of the large doorway between the living room and dining room, and landed with a hard thud on the dining room floor, crashing into the table and chairs.
Before it could register with me what had happened, he was on top of me, literally. He straddled my chest, pinning my arms down with his knees and went back and forth between choking me, punching me in the face and using my hair to bang my head into the floor, all while screaming the most horrible obscenities and insults at me.
Every time I would feel him begin to choke me, panic would rise up in me and I would begin to struggle with everything I had in me so that he couldn’t keep a solid grip on my throat. There was a box fan sitting on the floor of the dining room and at one point, I was struggling so hard that my foot went right through the front of the fan, smashing the plastic grill to pieces. It was shortly after this that something even worse than I was enduring happened; something that would change me forever. The kids got the bedroom door open.
Through my life or death struggle, I could see out of the corner of my eye that Darren had made it out of the bedroom and was now standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. His face appeared to be frozen in some sort of contorted, agonized expression that only a toddler in the worst fear of his little life could have. He was watching his mother being beaten, with screaming and cussing and blood everywhere and there was no way that his innocent mind could process it. Courtney had seen Elizabeth in the entryway and bolted for her, screaming and crying on the way, but Darren stood stone still in the doorway, in tormented agony. The image of his face in that moment will give me nightmares and overwhelming guilt for the rest of my life, and I was hoping that the rest of my life wouldn’t be mere minutes longer.
With the room spinning and everything sounding as if I’m in a tunnel, I know that I’m on my way out; whether temporarily or permanently, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I couldn’t do anymore; I was depleted. And that’s when God showed up. There was a pounding on the front door that was so loud I knew it had to be the police. Elizabeth had managed to scoop both of the kids up and run across the street to call them since she didn’t have a phone upstairs. She barely managed to make it out of the door before they showed up though, because luckily when I dialed 9-1-1, the call managed to connect before the evil one hung up the phone. Thankfully, when someone hangs up on 9-1-1, they send the police anyways to check out the situation.
The police burst in and saw the bloody scene where the evil one was still on top of my limp body, choking me and screaming at me. It’s all a bit hazy, but I remember them grabbing him off of me and him trying to fight them too, yelling that he was only defending himself because I broke his nose and that he wanted to file charges against me. A few of the officers cuffed him and drug him out of the house, as some of the others attended to me. I heard one of them radio for an ambulance and wondered just how bad I looked. I guess it was pretty bad.
It turns out that I did indeed give myself a concussion. I had a goose-egg on my forehead the size of a softball that was as blue as a smurf. Luckily, even though he did leave a nasty laceration between my eyes from beating me with the phone receiver, he didn’t break my nose. A little emergency room superglue and hopefully it would barely even leave a scar. There were plenty of horrible bruises and what look like hickey marks in the shape of his hands all over my neck from what seemed like hours of him choking me, even though it was probably only like forty five minutes.
The worst of my injuries was probably my wrists. He had been holding me so tightly at one point that he managed to burst the blood vessels in each wrist, causing them to turn blue and swell about three times their normal size. I couldn’t move them and the pain was excruciating. There were hairline fractures in both of them, but the real pain came from the swelling and bruising.
I don’t know why I didn’t call my parents; probably because I was so embarrassed. Also, I’m sure a part of it was that the only comfort I wanted was the comfort of my husband. When the police asked who they could call to come to the hospital for me, I gave them Randy’s number and while one of his family members came to the house to get the kids, Randy actually beat the ambulance to the hospital. He sat by my side and wouldn’t leave. He didn’t judge me and didn’t condemn me. I think he could feel the shame that I was already carrying and he knew he didn’t have to say anything. More importantly, I think he already knew what it would take me years to learn…
That it wasn’t my fault.


Friday Five

  1. I've been sick pretty much all week. I'm not sure what's up though. It's gone back and forth amongst lupus, food poisoning, flu symptoms. I don't know what the problem is. At first I thought maybe it was because I've been eating CRAP lately, so I've concentrated on eating better and... nothing. I feel like s-h-i-t homie. Hopefully it gets better soon.
  2. Because I've been feeling so crappy, today when I was speaking to the staffing person from work, I said to her, "I'm not going to call off, but if you happen to need me more tomorrow or Saturday, I'd be willing to switch days if you are." So she switched me to Saturday...and then that heifer called my agency and told them that I called off! WTF? I left her a rather stern message letting her know that I was pretty confused by that and wondering exactly when that happened because I did NOT call off. I can't WAIT to get out of that place!
  3. Which is why I've been searching like crazy for another job and today I got TWO phone calls for telemetry positions at two separate facilities that I was looking at. I have an interview next Thursday and I'm waiting for the second place to call me back to schedule one. Pray pray pray y'all! This would be such a blessing and jobs are so tight for everyone (including nurses) these days, that I really need God's support for this.
  4. I'm lonely, I miss my kids.
  5. I've been working on my book like a mad woman and it's starting to mess with me a little bit, recalling and purging all of that garbage. I think I might take a week or so break from it because today I could officially feel the hormonal waves starting to lick at my ankles. My boat was really taking on water today and so I don't want to tempt fate and risk becoming REALLY depressed this week. I'll get back to the grindstone when the water subsides.


Just finished

I've read all of her books and this one was just as good.

This was beautifully written.
The story was good,
but it was the way it was written
that is the really good stuff.
I'm starting her next book Belong To Me,
but not until I finish:

This is supposed to be HILARIOUS.
I'm starting it as soon as I hit the publish button for this blog.
I hope it's as good as I've heard it is.
I'll keep you posted!


See what had happened was.....


what if the other morning I woke up to find

that I had made cupcakes during an ambien haze?

A lot of them.


they looked SO yummy

with pink cherry frosting on top

and pink sprinkles.

And hypothetically...

would it explain my big DONK

if there were only one left now?

I'm just sayin'.


Mojo check

I just spent the last three hours or so

sitting on my patio having

deep and wonderful conversation

with a really cute guy.

Who was sober.

And is single.

And is educated.

And has a j-o-b craig.

And now?

He's texting me and asking

what movie he should watch.

Yeah, this?

Is called a mojo check. :)


Friday Five

  1. I met my new neighbor just now. He seems like a really nice older gentleman. Unfortunately, he also looks like the kind of guy who will call on my nursing expertise all the time...and confirmed this at the end when he said, "well now I know I have a nurse right next door and don't have to bug the doctor so much." Yay.
  2. Talking to a couple of really great guys up at the pool...I thought. They seemed awesome until one of them said, "you have to come party with us! We're gonna do some blow and get loaded." Nice. NEXT!
  3. I miss my kids already. Although, my ass does feel a lot better when it doesn't have the big PAIN in it that comes with them being here.
  4. Trying to decide what to get Maddie & Amelia for their birthdays. I think I might get Maddie a cell phone and let her have the plan that used to be Courtney's. After the way Courtney acted and busted her phone, I don't think I'll be replacing hers any time soon.
  5. All the weight I lost? ha! SOOO gained back! And this morning I woke up to a whole tray of yummy pink cupcakes with cherry frosting that I apparently baked during an ambien moment last night. I HAVE to eat them right? I can't waste food with all those starving kids in China and whatnot. ;)


To do: witness

I have been so burned out on nursing for the past few years. It would seem that nursing is all emotional highs and bonding experiences, but the truth is that bedside nursing, especially in acute care situations, is mostly a thankless job made up of repetitive tasks. For example, my current position consists of the following: gown, glove, enter room, perform tasks, degown, deglove, move to next room, gown, glove, enter room, perform tasks.....etc etc ad nauseum.

It's only occasionally that I seem to get thrown an experience that touches my heart. This morning I had one of those experiences that reminded me of the grave importance of what it is that I do. It may seem like I'm only being a nurse most days, but the reality is that I get to nurse people. I get to be present during the most intimate and vulnerable moments of a persons life. I get to see things that no other person on earth gets to see with these people and participate in parts of their lives that are reserved for the closest of the close. I am present during pivotal, life-changing moments. Sometimes when you're in the midst of it, it's easy to forget what a monumental blessing and privelege that is.

Yesterday evening when I received report on one of my patients, I was told that they had made him a do not resucitate and are going to do a terminal wean on him today (which means basically that they are going to turn off the ventilator and let God make the decision aka turning off life support). It made sense to me and at first it was no big deal, but as the night went on my heart became a little heavy for him. How do you fill out a careplan with short & long-term goals for someone when you know they won't be around another day? What do you say to someone when you know that in a few hours they won't be here anymore?

It was on my mind most of the night and as I sat there doing my paperwork, I pulled out my report sheet and wrote "witness" on my to-do list. Right there on the list of "sign off meds, chart check, new tube feed bags," etc was the word witness just like it was any other menial task to be done before the end of my shift. The thing is, it wasn't just A task, it was THE task to make sure I completed before going home. I just couldn't go home and sleep knowing that this person was going to pass today and not have spoken to them about Jesus.

You wanna know the neat part? This guy has been relatively unresponsive for the two days I've taken care of him....until I started talking to him about this. After talking to him for a few minutes about this (acting as if he could hear me just fine), he opened his eyes, turned his head and looked me square in the eyes, listening as intently as if his life depended on it...which in a way it did, didn't it? I hope he heard what I shared with him. Really heard it. At the end when I asked him if he was a Christian, he barely managed to shake his head yes. I really hope he is. If so, this will be the best day of his life.


Old friends


I've been taking this opportunity without the kids to really try to dive into this memoir I've been planning on attacking. I plan to only make it about the ten years or so when the evil one was in the picture and all the REALLY bad stuff happened. Of course, it's more than just about the bad stuff--it's about encouragement and triumph, depression and domestic violence--all the stuff that people (particularly women) need to hear about.
I have to admit that I've been taking my time getting to the evil one part. I'm undoubtedly procrastinating because I know that this is going to begin the REALLY ugly stuff and I'm not too excited to go rehashing all of that. The stuff that happened before him (and after him) was bad enough, but the during part was plain old hell, no two ways about it.
While writing my outline and jotting down a list of people who were in my life during the specific events, a few things were evident to me...one of which is that I hold onto people. Seriously, if you get close enough for me to allow you to be my friend and claim you as my inner circle, chances are you're not going anywhere after that. The people that I know well, I've known for years and still consider dear to me. And Greg? I think you're at the top of the list! I know that things have gotten a little off-kilter for us in the past few years, but especially right now with me having to go back and rehash everything that happened, you are the one who seems to be in every chapter; one of the few consistent threads in my inconsistent life.
You were the one to call and check up on me, the one to pick me up for church, the one to come and board up my front door after the evil one busted it down and went to jail, the one to flirt relentlessly with me and make me feel pretty again...you were even the first person besides my parents to let me drive their car when I was a teenager! You've always been there and I'm blessed to know that you still are. Thanks for taking care of me in little ways over the years...even if it meant simply buying yellow moon pies for snacks because you know I like them. It's rare to be able to say that you have a friend for as long as we have had each other. Thank you for still being around. I love you friend and I still pray for you regularly. I hope you're feeling better.
And p.s...
I know it won't change anything for people who know us well, but if you don't want your name in this book, you'd better pick a good alias for me to use because you're in it more than probably everyone but me! Maybe I could call you something like Seg Grabpree or something of the like? I'm sure no one would guess who you are then! :)


What I want right now...

  • To not be alone right now.
  • To have someone to drag me to bed when I should be sleeping but can't seem to get there.
  • To have someone to snuggle back against all naked and warm in bed as I drift off.
  • Someone to tickle my back softly sending me into a sweet dreamland.
  • Someone to ride in the car with me when I go driving who will rub the back of my neck and head as I sit behind the wheel and to whom I can say, "oooh babe, look at that!" as we pass something cool along the road.
  • Someone to share my smiles with.
  • To be in the nook.


Friday Five

  1. Was good to see my kids for a week, but it was completely exhausting. The past few weeks was BRUTAL on me. Kid drama flowing from every direction and by the time they left, I could only think "MAMA NEEDS A COCKTAIL!"
  2. Because of that, I spent three days with My cousin Michelle & her husband Dewey and downed WAAAYYYYY too much white peach sangria. I always order it at Applebees and so I googled "how does applebees make their white peach sangria" and wrote down the recipe. THREE DAYS AND SEVERAL PITCHERS OF IT LATER.... I have successfully drank more than I have in the past few years and feel slightly more relaxed. Not as relaxed as Michelle though, as she passed out on top of her dog. lol
  3. Work is slightly better. I wouldn't say it's good. It's just work and it's manageable. Being an LTAC facility, there are certain benefits, such as you don't have to expect admissions coming in all night long. And if you manage to get the same people several times in a row, it makes your night easier (usually) because you know them and their routines...since these people are there FOREVER. On the flip side, these people are there FOREVER and so if you manage to get a pain in the ass one several times, it can shorten your life by at least a few years and add a lot more grey to your hair.
  4. I went to Trader Joe's last night, so last night and today I think I have successfully gained back any weight that I've lost lately. Damn that Trader Joe's and their delicious food! And snacks! I should've grabbed a couple bottles of their two-buck-chuck to make some more sangria, but I didn't because I am trying to be a good girl and thought constantly downing all that yummy goodness would start piling the pounds back on....so instead I sit here downing chocolate raspberry sticks, chocolate mini meringues and green chili chicken burritos. Yeah, that's a wise decision.
  5. I have managed to completely lose the summer tan I had worked so hard to get. I'm back to being "Pimp Pasty" as my kids like to call me. Ooops, gotta run! The timer on the oven just went off and my next round of burritos are done!!! :)

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