It doesn't matter

I'm not depressed today, praise God, so I feel pretty confident exploring an ugly subject.  I feel like I'm an explorer, constantly looking under rocks and logs, as I explore my own mind.

I have mentioned them before, the people next door.  As near as I can tell, they have a couple of young (20-ish) men, an old man, two girls, a young woman, an older woman (about my age) and her live-in-boyfriend.  All living in a 4 bedroom.  It must get pretty crowded, they only have 2 full baths.  They have at least 4 cars.

A fifth, in fact, was recently "totaled".  It looks like it ran into a pole, the whole front end is wrapped around an invisible point of impact.  It stayed in the driveway for a month or two, then left.  So, we have gray truck, green truck, gray SUV, and the blue van.  The driveway is large enough to park all the vehicles.

The blue van is driven by one of the young men.  I don't like him, he came to my house one day asking about a letter left on his van, and he was very smirky about Ron.  I politely told him my husband had a lot of health problems, and we did not write the letter.   We objected, I told him, to the dog.

Oh, the dog.  If you look at last fall, up to about May, a lot of blogs about the dog.  Basically, the young woman wanted "something to love me".  She got a very energetic border collie/dalmation mix.  Both dogs are extremely high-energy breeds that require a lot of personal time.

Her concept of dog parenting, stick the dog in the yard - feed it.  Pet it for a couple minutes every few days.  When the dog got out, they refused to fix the fence, the dog did a lot of damage to the fence, and kept us up with the constant barking - the only way the dog ever got attention.

I think the dog felt, "OK, if I have to bark for 12 hours to get someone out here, I'll do it."  Ron had a different approach, he would go next door and bang on the door, in the middle of the night, for extended periods of time.  He wanted them to put the dog in the garage.  He also made a lot of calls to the police.

Eventually, they gave the dog to the humane society.  I don't feel bad for her; the owner didn't even have a  "gerbil" level of commitment to her pet.  A lot better for doggie to go to some homeschooling mom with 7 kids, on a couple of acres out in the country. Or someone who did agility training or something.

Anyway, I try to pick my battles.  Last week, you can look, seemed like 10 million kids in my yard "looking for my ball".  Why?  Only God knows.  At some future point, Ron and I will ask the neighbor, if you have a party, please run some netting to keep the balls out of our yard.  That's the other side of the yard...

I was fairly annoyed yesterday when we got back from Walmart, to find the ugly blue van, in the only street parking spot, in front of our home.  I thought it was very rude.  The paratransit vehicle blocked traffic on both sides as we unloaded.  Today, it's still here - and some of the other vehicles are missing.

Maybe they went back "home" for a visit, and asked Van Boy to park on the street so they can get their spots back.  I could guess all day long, but I find it very aggravating - like a splinter, to see THAT in front of my house.  It's a piece of crap, with the cliche "bumper hanging on by a coat hanger".

I know this, tomorrow morning we have a 4 AM pickup.  Things are going to be rather "tight" if Van Boy doesn't move, and we get a large van.

That's where I sit down and have a talk with myself.  Does this really matter?  Is the van barking all night, tearing up the fence, and defecating in my garden?  Does it have loud parties every night?  Does it tear boards off the fence?  Does it climb on the gate, breaking it?  Does it try to run me over when I go for a run?  Does it "sic" a vicious animal on me during my runs?  Does it throw used condoms in my yard?  Is it a vicious animal?  Does it damage my property?  

No, it's not.  I have endured all the rest and then some.  On the "bad neighbor" spectrum, this is nothing. In fact, I can laugh if I push myself a little.

I know I have a  remarkable tendency to become very paranoid and scary.  If something minor like this happens, it can grow and grow in my head to monumental proportions.  It can overcome every other thought, as I brood on the "injustice" and "persecution".  So, I watch for it.  I am extremely careful about taking my pills, too.

My maternal grandmother is my boogeyman.  One thing about families, if you look back at an event, and ask 3 people about it, you'll get 4 different viewpoints.  I find it remarkable that every family member, who speaks of my maternal grandmother, says the same thing: paranoid, isolated, never forgave an "injustice", hostile, accusatory, demanding, and all the things I see in my own head.

It scares me, and rightly so.  I don't want to end up like her, dying alone.  I don't want to be feared and hated.  I don't want to be the person who cuts off contact with her only child.  When I'm cremated, I don't want people screaming "Keep those ashes out of my house".

So, I look at the ugly blue "splinter", outside my house, and tell myself, "It doesn't matter".

The plants will like it

I'm listening to "War of the Minds" by Flame.  It's a great song.

Happily, I think I'm in a "manic" phase - which these days is very low key.  I feel a little happier than "not depressed".  I have more interest in things, and more energy.  And, that's it.  These days.

Yeah, it's not as "fun" as some of my old manias - my favorite was the time I was out in the yard, I dug a 4x4x3 foot deep garden bed in just a couple of hours!  [laugh]  I do try, if I get a "good" one, to "point" it at some, useful, project.

However, the goal, I guess, is not having them at all.  The curse of bipolar: it's so fun to be up, so addictive... and so dangerous.  [shrug]  No one wants depression, no one.  The manias are the danger.

So, I got a fair amount done:  I figured out a heating problem.  I hate being cold in the morning when I get out of bed.  I don't want to run the heater all night.  Ron doesn't want a large bill.  

The other day, lying in bed, I got it: put a small utility heater (like the one Ron has in the man cave), ON A TIMER!  That's it!

Today, I got both the heater (12 amps) and the timer (15 amps - so safe),  at Walmart for about $25 and tax.  I tested it, set it to run for a half hour only.  It worked great.

I am going to love this so much on Monday morning, when I get up at 3 (!) AM to get my deliveries.  I can set the timer the night before, to start about 20 minutes before my alarm.  By the time I get up, my room and maybe the bathroom (I have a bathroom door in my room) will be pleasant.  And, once I'm up, it turns off.  I'm so tickled.

The rest of the time, I don't really care about the temperature.  I can put on a sweater and be fine.  Ron keeps his (small) man cave nice and toasty with another small heater.  I've noticed, too much heat will trigger a hot flash - and I don't like them!  The thermostat can be a lot colder this winter, and save some money.

You may remember my blog, a few months back, about "owning" my house.  How I tend to act like I'm visiting my house instead of owning it.  When I was in Galveston for my birthday, I had the thought "I love coming to this motel - they have wonderful shower heads.  Why don't I look into getting one for the house?"

Today, I did that, too.  I found a nice shower head, for $10.

A huge factor in my decision: it has a pause button.  I lived in a home, in CA, during an extremely severe drought.  I remember one year we got a total of 11 inches rain.  For the year.  Dad bought shower heads that had pause buttons.  Once I got wet, I'd hit the pause button, lather up, and then turn the water on to rinse.  Dad also had a system to save "gray water" from the showers for reuse in the garden.

We are in the midst of an extremely severe drought.   I thought, both of those ideas have a very practical application here.  While I showered this morning, I thought, I could use 1/3 of the water if I had a pause button.

My "new head" does that.  And the new bucket I bought can help catch gray water for the garden.  For instance, turning on the water, waiting for it to heat up; that water can go in the bucket for certain.  From what I read, anything but the shampoo/conditioner rinse water can be used on garden plants.   Plain soap, apparently, breaks down pretty quickly.

I venture to say, depending on my mood, I may or may not reuse gray water in the garden.  When I'm manic, like now, it's "easy".  When I'm depressed, I'm  hard pressed to climb in the shower to bathe, much less play environmentalist.

I'm sure the plants will like it.

It did for me

It's been interesting, getting used to my "new" computer (reconditioned, Mom's former computer), operating system, and applications.  So far I have to say I have yet to figure out the video blogs, I may fire up the old one for that.  I made one on this the other day, but had problems with the upload (very slow long upload, it would have taken, literally, almost a day).

On other fronts, I am always praying for everyone - that includes you.  I have a list of prayer requests I pray for myself, and one I pray for Ron.  Happily, I am seeing some answers.

I remind myself, when things are harsh, that harsh times keep my eyes on God.  Let me tell you, nothing focuses my faith like a crisis.  I don't want crisis.  I want, a nice boring life.  I want to know what kind of day I'll have, three months in advance.

I believe God uses crisis, in my life, to get my eyes off "whatever" and get them back on Him.  When things are so bad or hopeless only He can help; I trust Him and He does.

I thought it was pretty funny today; my phone rang.  I didn't know the number so I rejected the call and sent it to voicemail.  A minute later, Ron's phone rang.  My psychiatrist had called, asking if they could reschedule.

Apparently, something has come up on my appointment day.  That's fine, I'll just go in Tuesday.  

He is a great doctor.  He takes patients, like me, without insurance.  I pay $50 a visit, a couple times a year.  That's it.  He understands the concept of a tight budget, and affordable medication.   Happily, my medication is very cheap, only $30 a month - generics.

I've never gotten the whole "It has to be a name brand" concept.  A molecule is a molecule.  I'm going to take the generic!  I've never had a problem with generics.

In fact, it was a name brand medication that almost killed me, two years ago.  It was a name brand antidepressant, no generics yet... and I took it for almost 3 years.  Monday I was fine, Tuesday I passed out and almost died due to allergy (you can look it up, August of '09).  My antipsychotic is another good example.  I could not afford it at $140 a month - name brand.

When it went generic, it dropped to $15 a month.  THAT, I can afford.   When I first got my medication, Doc gave me a months' worth of samples.  I was given a name brand lithium.

It worked.  So does the $3 a month generic lithium carbonate.  I like the pretty pink capsules, too.  Much prettier than that brown name brand!  Lithium carbonate is lithium carbonate.

And I've ONLY taken the Bupropion (aka Wellbutrin) as a generic.  Now, I admit I had a lot of problems with the yellow brand - I don't know who made it but I was pretty queasy.  Mylan makes a nice pink Bupropion and it works great.  The morning pills look so girly, a pink lithium, and an equally pink antidepressant!

The night time pills are a little more interesting, a burgundy antipsychotic, a red antioxidant (over the counter - my skin likes a vitamin A and E), pink lithium, and some white cal-mag-zincs.

You may know this, but I have written fan emails to all the manufacturers of my medication; they help me to have a fantastic quality of life.  I think the least I can do is say thank you.  I hope they put the letter up on the message board for the employees to read.

So, it's always fun to see Doc.  I heard recently the popular anti anxiety pill is available as a generic, and very cheap.  It's tempting to ask for it, but I don't want to play with things that carry a risk of addiction.  I have an 80% risk of addiction just with the FAS, I don't want to get stuck in a dark place.

Besides, I think my anxiety isn't that bad.  I used to have horrible panic attacks, but the lithium has done a great job.  It's not supposed to work that way, but it did for me.

I'll see my aunt, too.  We always try to meet up and have lunch.

Meteor photo.

Working on concepts for the volcano, and the rapture one.  Something along the lines of Jesus pulling someone out of a wheelchair.

Orange Jellyfish

So, lest you think I'm being eaten alive by past traumas, I'll tell you about my day.

It's true, though.  I do have some post-traumatic issues from the accident.  One day I was in really bad shape, I was back in that ICU waiting room, it was horrible, even with Ron beside me.  I FINALLY figured out the warehouse club had started using a "new" hand soap.  The same soap used by the ICU - I had to scrub, and glove up,  every time I went in to see Ron.  The scent is unmistakable.

Now, I can remind myself "The soap will trigger bad memories", but sometimes, like today, it gets shoved in my face and I can't avoid it.  Doc says one of my medications is also used for PTSD, so I'm covered.

Anyway, I didn't sleep well.  Finally got up and skipped my God Time (He waited).  Ate, went to work.  No headache thank God.

I figured out I had forgotten to put my lithium in the AM part of my pill organizer.  Explains why I've had such a tough week!  Today's lithium had me stupid.  I was walking around in a fog, thinking, a fog is a lot better than all those sharp edges I've had.

Ron said I was useful; good to hear.  You know what happened after work, while waiting to come home.

I ate and took a nap.  Woke up, wrote the blog, then decided I needed to take care of myself.  I did some cooking, made pumpkin pudding.  Then I did my God Time.  I had a tremendous urge to paint; so I decided to work on the meteor one.

It was kind of funny, my crayon version resembled an orange jellyfish.  [snort]  Not a big fan of crayons - but they at least get the concept out on paper.

So, I'm working on it.  Dark skies.  Even the grass is dark.  I'm approaching the meteor in stages.  Get some down, let it dry... get some more.  I'm liking the tail.  It's progressing.

Once I get the meteor finished, I need to get the figure praying, and then do the cross up in the pearlescent clouds.  I should finish it in a few days.

"Ron Update"

This one will be brutal.

I'm going to give a little background, and then talk about the worst day of my life.  Hop in my time machine, we're going back to 2003.

Ron and I had been managing two businesses, a deli and the vending.  The deli was open nights, and all the vending deliveries came during the day; which meant Ron and I worked a lot of 16 hour days with no overtime.  I remember, Christmas 2002 was fantastic because I actually got 2 days off in a row.

We had a hard time finding "quality" help (translated - people who understood food safety and wouldn't steal or give away the store), so I worked a swing shift in the deli, in addition to helping Ron with deposits and vending business every morning.

Ron walked to work every morning, a little under 2 miles.  He always crossed the same street.  It's a busy street, but he crossed safely, every day, for almost 2 years.  Prior to that, he had always walked to work for 30 years, including crossing other, busy, streets.

We had called the City of Houston about the streetlight; it was out and Ron warned them; a terrible accident could happen if you don't get this fixed.  And he kept walking to work.

The deli lost money, consistently.  People had a hard time understanding, it doesn't matter if you get 10 customers every 3 hours, that can't meet payroll, much less meet the cost of goods.  Ron kept begging the state to close the deli, but they kept refusing.  It was someone's pet project.

We couldn't even afford a business checking account, and we had to pay the vendors cash.  So, when Ron left the house that morning he had a lot of cash in his backpack.

In the meantime, a guy at work, named Roy.  He drove a piece of heavy equipment in the plant, and got into a lot of near-miss type accidents.  He just isn't a good driver.  He worked nights.   He had 5 little kids at home.

Roy was in a big hurry when he left work that day, and accelerated as he approached the red light.  He "blew" the light and hit my husband, who was crossing the street.  Ron had the light.  Roy did not.

Ron suffered many injuries on impact, a badly broken leg that required surgery, massive road rash from being dragged about a block down the street, broken ribs, ruptured subclavian artery, lacerated kidney, and a punctured lung.  He suffered massive damage to his brain, both a "twist" DIA injury, and multiple bruises (to the brain), on "all" lobes, from the actual impact (coup-contracoup injury).  He actually lay, dead, in the road, until paramedics revived him.

The officer sent to investigate the accident robbed my husband of the cash (including my rent money) in the backpack, and phonied up the accident report.  Ron was crossing south.  The driver was going east.  Ron was hit on the right side.  All adds up, right?  That's what REALLY happened.  The way the officer wrote it up, Ron was going north - which he wouldn't have because that was AWAY from work.  The only way Ron could have been injured that way, is if he'd run into the street BACKWARDS.  You can bet Officer "B" is on the prayer list.

He also came to the hospital the next day and said the accident was MY fault, because I "let" Ron out of the house unaccompanied.  It's a good thing I was so tired when I met him, of I'd have an assault charge on my record.

Even though Roy clearly broke the white cane law - ran a red light, etc... Officer B let him off.  He didn't even get a ticket for killing my husband.   Lovely.

A couple years later, I was out on the loading dock, waiting on my milk man.  Roy came around a corner, going too fast, and almost hit me.  Guess we didn't learn our lesson.

The only consolation, for me, was the fact that Roy's auto insurance paid up - the hospital got $10K, the lawyer got $8K, and we got $2K to pay off the credit card.  Yeah, that's it.  2 thousand dollars for a lifetime in a wheelchair.

Hard NOT to be bitter.  Especially when Roy is walking around, perfectly fine; and Ron is not.  Especially when everyone at work acted like Roy was the victim, and Ron just leapt out and assaulted his car.  I don't care if he's a "nice" guy; he killed my husband.  I don't talk about the accident at work; I get too intense when the apologists start defending the guy.

I did have some small satisfaction; Ron totaled the truck.  Roy has now bought a very similar-looking truck.  Ick.  I also heard he was unable to drive for a couple years due to sky-high insurance.  Good.  If one of your drivers runs over a blind man because he ran a red light; you'd better charge him a high rate!

I work, very hard, on forgiving him.  The "nice guy" was calling me every day in the ICU waiting room.  He did feel terrible.  Ron always remarks the guy took a week off work.  He had asked me to call his house if anything major happened.

When I finally got (encouraging) MRI results back, I called his house.  Mrs Roy answered and got a major attitude with me (she's actually the reason I pushed Ron to sue); she never wanted to hear from me again.  They didn't know any "Ron" and didn't care how he was doing.  Very, very, ugly.  So I hung up and never called again.

I had set up the answering machine, I would record a new message every day with the "Ron update".   I gave the number to everyone, and even the sandwich lady was calling every day for her updates.  When Ron was "sort of" talking, I had him grunt a message out for everyone; I assume Roy heard about the Ron update and just called that after his wife got so ugly.

Now, I have to interject.  I pray for Roy, his wife, his family, every day.  I pray for Officer B.  I pray for other people who have hurt me, and Ron, but they're at the top of the list.  God commands me to pray for them, and forgive them.

Normally, I think I do OK.

Today, however, I came out of work.  I sit at the "bus stop" and wait on our paratransit ride.  We have multiple driveways and new drivers usually get confused, and enter the wrong parking lot.  If I'm out there, I can wave, and get them over to us.  I wait, until the ride arrives.  Then I call Ron and he comes staggering out of the door, and climbs aboard.

That's the way we do it.  Works very well, has for several years now.

Until I came out and saw Roy and his wife sitting in a pickup truck, very similar to what destroyed my husband's mobility.  They were having a romantic picnic lunch in the car.  And they had parked in front of the bus stop.  I HAD to look at them every time I scanned the street for our driver.

I just boiled inside as I saw them chatting, laughing.  They had the use of their entire bodies.  They could drive, walk, and raise both arms above their head without assistance.  They didn't NEED a wheelchair, ever.

And my husband does, because  this stupid, selfish, bastard ran a red light because "I was in a hurry".

The old Heather, prior to medication, would have gotten up and asked them to move, telling them I was the wife of the man he maimed.  Instead, I opted to call my aunt and chat with her as I kept looking for our ride.

I did have quite a bit of satisfaction; when the "Metrolift" came into the parking lot - they acted like it was some kind of Molotov cocktail.  Roy bolted into the building (and encountered Ron coming out).  The wife ran out of there like someone set her tailpipe on fire.

So they feel guilty; at least.  They don't LIKE to see what he did to my husband.  Good.  I hope they choke on it.    

It was Him

Well, Allen, I had plenty of time to play with some concepts while I waited for my video blog to load.  The video blog didn't work, I don't know why.  Still getting used to new OS and applications.

I got some concepts down for the meteor and volcano.  When I get them painted, I'll put up some photos.

Slept in today, woke up with a DREADFUL headache.  I never got rid of it.  I took some execdrin and got some nasty hot flashes... having one right now.

I KNOW I feel terrible when I don't even finish my soda.  And I didn't eat anything weird!  It's really frustrating.

OK, physically feel terrible, mood - really irritable depression, hopeless, frustrated.  Just not a good day.  About the only good thing I could say, Ron gave me $20 and the cat slept on his little bed, next to mine.  It's nice to see Bubba all cozy on "his" bed (which is actually a storage box).

Agh.  My head is really killing me.

Ron's been in a pretty dark mood, himself.  Not surprising we had an argument about taking out the trash.

I decided I would try and make a good day of it, after all.  (Ron is on a tirade right now about God)  I left the house, and decided to go to the Christian bookstore.

Due to my foot problems, depression, and lack of funds, I hadn't been in a while.  I don't want to be a "downer", I'd rather sequester myself.

A very nice lady had sent me some money for "ministry", and I had just the thing in mind: a case of Bibles.  I could see them, tucked into zip locks  with a nice handful of candy.  If I bought a case of Bibles, I'd have enough cash left for the candy.

So, I took my handcart (took a while to extract it from storage) and left the house.  I had to come back a couple of times.  I forgot my debit card.  I forgot my backpack.  And I needed some bug spray.  [sigh]  Missed that bus.

Got the bus.  Realized I had a horrible mood, and the headache was back.  I decided to stop at a McDonalds and get something to eat.  I ate, took my pills.  I went with naproxen instead of the  caffeine stuff.  It's not working very well.

Had a guy come up to me, begging.  Got me thinking about maybe packing lunches with a scripture booklet.  I like it, need to pray on it, though.

Caught my buses and got to the store.  Got my case of Bibles and they even put them in the handcart.  It was obvious I had a lot of identical Bibles, in the cart.

On my way home, 3 people expressed a lot of interest in the Bibles and each got one.  I'm glad God could use me.

God knows, it was Him and not me.  Me?  I was just putting one foot in front of another.  I will be praying for them, of course.

Got home, put up the handcart.  Ron was asleep.  Took out the trash, watered the foundation, and poisoned the fire ants nesting by Ron's chair.  Boy, he'd have been furious.

He was pretty upset when I told him.  I told him I will do "chair checks" every day for him.

Let me put on my martyr/victim hat: and I did all of this with a HORRIBLE headache!  [taking hat off]

Ron woke up; in a bad, bitter, mood.  UGH.  And this was my day off.  I hope tomorrow is better.

I know, none of this is major, but sometimes the little aggravations, piled up, can seem more frustrating than a major problem.  When faced with a major problem, I tackle it head-on and go into fighter mode.  The little ones, I tend to roll over.

I'm working on that.

I hope you had a better day.

I'll remind you here I'm praying for you, daily.  

Mixed episodes suck!

Today, not a good day for the mood.

1.  I didn't get enough sleep.
2.  I chose to watch "Walking Dead" rather than do my God Time when I did get up.  {snort}
3.  I kept obsessing (it's called ruminating) about the whole circus last night.  I was really, really, upset.

I finally made a deliberate decision to let it go.  I kept telling myself "It doesn't matter".  When the kids started up tonight, kicking the ball into the fence "It doesn't matter".

I also thought it would have been a little weird to get upset about kids, when I'm bagging up Halloween Candy with scripture booklets and a Jesus activity book.  [laugh]

I try to look at it a couple of ways, and I won't look great as I say it:
1.  I do SUCH GOOD work for God, the Devil has to attack me with mood problems, pretty annoyances, etc... just to ruin my witness and take my eyes off God.  Yes.  I know how that sounds.

2.  I remind myself that I have a serious illness: I want it to be a minor thing, but it isn't.  I have a bloody, filthy, brutal battle on my hands every day of my life.  I have to fight on, battle my moods, stay balanced and stable, so I can do good work for God.

3.  I remind myself that this "life" is temporary, and eternity is - well - forever.  The apostle Paul said while in chains in a Roman prison, (book of Philippians) "I have learned to be content wherever I am" and also, "I can do all things in God who gives me strength".  He had a very hard time, and he managed with God's help.  I can manage with God's help; but I have to ask, and accept it.

I'm a little sarcastic as I say this  "That's the great thing about a mixed bipolar episode.  Even the best of life looks like a horrible endurance race, something to be endured, instead of enjoyed."

Doc is always happy when I don't have the clear manias, but oh, I miss them.  Mixed episodes suck.  One minute I'm telling my life story to a guy at Taco Bell, the next I am snarling at the neighbor kids.  [head in hands]  God, give me the grace to deal.

Ron and I had a really dumb argument tonight, he got verbally abusive.  He wanted me to help him find something.  He started name-calling.  I told him, "I won't help you if you continue to disrespect me.  Please try to remember I am HELPING YOU."  He called me another name, and I said "That's it, I won't help you if you can't treat me with respect." and walked off.  He had to find it, on his own.  After he stormed off, I did my God Time.

It seems like a small thing, but it isn't.  My illness and life experiences have had me thinking "I am worthless" for a very long time.  That is not true.  My faith tells me God came to earth and died for me.  I have value.

Just like I wouldn't let Ron ruin a lovely coat, I don't have to "let" him try to drag me down when he's angry.  I wonder sometimes.  He was verbally abusive before the accident, but it sure got worse after.  Part of it, clearly, is impulse control.  He doesn't have much.

Last night I made some hamburger helper, and he kept eating it even after he was full because "It tastes so good".  He couldn't delay gratification.  [shrug]  So there's the organic component.

I do wonder, if he "wanted" - could he ever treat me with respect 100% of the time?  That's where I shrug and say "You know what, that's in God's hands.  I am accountable for my actions, and I will try to live my life in a way that honors God.  I will treat other people with respect, even if they are ugly, and focus on pleasing God."  That also means I will set boundaries and enforce them.

Usually, that means warning Ron, and then removing myself from the situation.  It does help; he understands.  I want to say something bitter like someone has to be the grownup but that's just hatery.

Anyway, not enough sleep.  Got up.  Stood up God so I could watch zombies.  Went to work, stuffed in a cab with a couple of other people.  New-ish driver, but he did OK.  Stocked my machines.  Happily sodas needed several cases.  Yay!

Prayed over a vending machine (not aloud) while trying to fit the new bulb into the fixture.  Boy, it was hard.  I have dis-assembled coin mechanisms faster!  Finally got it to work.  YaY!  Happy dance, made the customers laugh (obviously a little manic there).

Walking around all squinty and obsessed with keeping the neighbor kids out of my yard.  Dude, I'm glad he doesn't read my blog.  He would move.

Not my best moment; but I think it is important to be transparent.  I hope and pray some other poor bastard comes along and goes OH!  SHE HAS IT TOO!   I hope.  I hope if you are in my shoes, you are TAKING YOUR PILLS AS DIRECTED and AVOIDING ALCOHOL.  OK.  Done with lecture.

Again, a little manic.  I am going to eat and take my night-time stuff shortly.

The other vendor's wife came to me.  Her hand was bleeding.  She had tried to pick up some broken glass and gotten a splinter.

Now, for a second, I wanted to get all Haz-mat and say "I'm not touching you without gloves".  But then I thought, Dude, nothing is going to happen to me outside of God's will, and she is very health-concious.  I am sure she gets tested for everything, every year.

I got a couple of rubbing alcohol wipes, cleaned her off, and removed the splinter.  More blood, some on me.  Oh, well.  After I put on her bandage I went in my stockroom and used the sanitizer.

Again, nothing's going to happen out of God's will.  

I got the deliveries, helped Ron, got everything stocked, and off we went.  We came home, and I got Mom's stuff.  She wanted some roux, she liked my painting, etc... so I went ahead and stuck it all in a tote bag with plenty of candy.

They love candy at the Post Office.  Ron took me to a restaurant nearby, and waited while I got it all mailed.  She should get it all Wednesday-ish.

I thought it was funny; I was just at the processing plant that morning, filling my machines, but I had to go miles away to actually MAIL something, which is by now, at the processing center.  [snort]  They were happy to get the candy.

I made sure the clerk knew I hadn't paid for some of the supplies, so I could get charged.  I will ruin my witness if I steal, and "not paying for" an envelope and bubble wrap is theft.  I am very rigid in that regard.  If it's a gift, that's fine, but if it's not I'm paying.

Did that, came home.  Started getting hives from lunch.  Took a benadryl, laid down for a nap.

Got up a few hours later, no hives.  Yay!  No wheat for a while.

It's sad, I have such a good mania going right now, but I have to whack it before it turns into some horrifying beast and turns on me.

So, I got up.  Watched the hoarding show and cleaned up the front room (always needs a little work).  Then I started bagging up candy, watching the show.

I did about 50 bags of Halloween candy.  They are getting a scripture booklet, activity book, full sized snickers bar, now and later, handful of hard candy, and a couple of caramels.

I hope they like it!

You only need one.

In some regards, I've had a good weekend.  I got to rest, got my supplies for work, got my supplies for home.  Here come the kids again, coming in my yard... "I lost my ball".

Ron made a joke about outlawing all balls, on his planet and I like it.

I did my cooking, cleaned up the front room (boy, it is easy for clutter to breed), and have stayed on top of both laundry, and dishes.  Yay.

On the other hand, I'm just really tired... battling depression, irritable, and feeling kind of persecuted.  Logically, I know I have a good life; I have an illness, and I will get better.  I know I just need to hang in there.

But I get so tired of fighting.  I just want to react normally to things, without the whole lens of mental illness.  I don't want to care so much when strange people are walking on my property.  I want to sleep, without all the drama of things that might or might not be there.  It gets OLD.

I feel I've complained a lot recently, but I remind myself that is OK.  That's why I have the blog; to get it all out.  If I'm feeling tired, weary, broken-down, and frustrated, I should be talking about it.

UGH.  More kids in the yard.  I finally went out and told them, "Look, FYI, I need to get up at 3 AM tomorrow."

It's a problem, if I have the loud party on one side of the house, and kids banging the gate and yelling as they come in MY yard on the other.  Sometimes I am very tempted to let the parents know I have mental illness; I'm certain that would keep ALL kids out of my yard.

For a while, then it might be fun to play "get away with it".  I think the thing that bothers me the most: it's not just one kid coming in my yard, after the ball, it's PACKS of them, several at a time.

You only need one kid to get a ball.

But, I can hear the next door neighbor, very rowdy, party time... let's hope I get some sleep tonight.

"They do it to trick you"

Some days, are just strange for me.

A little background, I am not a fan of strange children in my yard.  My aunt says boys, in particular, just have trouble with rough play and the concept of a property line.

So, I find it a bit disturbing that the kids on one side of my house have literally torn a piece of siding off the house - playing rough with their soccer ball.  I think they tried to kick the ball, missed, and got the siding instead.  I find it a bit disturbing that they just walk into my yard whenever they lose a ball.

The way I was raised, you NEVER went into a neighbor's yard without express permission from your parent, AND the neighbor, every time you went in the yard.  [shrug]  If I broke the rule I'd get spanked, lectured, and chores.

Ron and I got pretty tired of strange kids coming into the yard because "I lost my ball".  We tried telling them they had to ask us to get the ball, which turned into a sick game of "fetch" with one child pestering me every 10 minutes or so.  Ron had to have a talk with his mother.

After hearing we could be held liable for injuries obtained in the yard, we had a policy of "If your parent asks, we will give them the ball" - that eliminated the "fetch".  But they kept coming.  I found it very disturbing, strange kids staring in my windows and "exploring" my yard.  If I went out and confronted them, they'd grab the ball and run off.  The starers just made strange comments like "You have a lot of books".  One kid was in the back yard, looking into a window, and when I confronted him he said he wanted us to pay him to mow the yard.

So, Ron put a lock on the gate.  That held them off for a while; then they started climbing over the gate, the gate that took my husband a long time to build.  They broke it.

I was very angry.  Ron built a new gate when we had the dog problems last year, we thought the dog might have been getting out on the street side, then coming into our yard through the broken gate.

We decided to leave it unlocked.  The kid next door, on occasion, will come and get his ball.

I don't think much of it, usually, until I heard what I did today.  They are having some kind of birthday party today, several cars all over  (one of them parked, blocking my driveway - would have been nice to ASK me before doing that), several adults, and several kids.

Anyway, I heard the kids coming around the house again after the ball.  One of the boys expressed trepidation, he thought we had a dog.  The other kid said "No, they don't have a dog.  They just made the gate like that to TRICK YOU into thinking they have one."

WTF?

I don't think I can understand that reasoning.  Hey, kid, you are trespassing.  I am allowing it because your parents are decent people.  But it's MY property, not yours, and I can do anything I want with it.  So get your ball and get the heck out!

[shudder]  I can see why some people buy 100 acres or so, out in the middle of nowhere, with a big fence.

It was real, last night

Well, I slept pretty well last night, with just the one "tablet".  I heard some music, yes, but I also heard it getting very loud as it came down our street, and Ron muttering "If you can't build it, you don't get to use it".  Clearly, "real".

I woke up pretty groggy - I usually do.  I skipped my morning God Time (caught up later), took my shower, and went to the warehouse store.  Ron and I got the supplies I needed, including more Driver Candy.  I handed out tons of stuff.

We came home, and went to Starbucks.  We had our coffee (well, I had a steamed milk), and read our books for a bit.  Came home, I was really tired, took a nap.

I slept for quite a while, woke up, and did some housework.  I also caught up with God and hung out for a while.  Read some more of my book; it's a good one.

Now, I just need to work on fixing up the front room, call Mom and Dad, and get ready for the grocery store tomorrow.

The fifth pillow

In some regards, I have a hard time being nice to myself.  I battle low-self-esteem and feelings of unworthiness.  I don't think I deserve good things in my life.

I'm working on that, a balance between martyrdom, self-respect, and selfishness.  It's an interesting road.

For instance, I love a lot of pillows in my bed.  Nothing makes me feel spoiled like a nice fluffy nest of pillows.  Most of the pillows are several years old, and cost me less than $10 each.  I like the ones with the polyester puff, kind of like down but without the allergies.  I can fluff them up and adjust them, without bothering my allergies.

I've mentioned before, I like to stack 3 of them, pyramid-style, for my head.  I also like to have a pillow to one side when I sleep on my side.  I can throw my leg over it.

One, recent, night, I was lying in bed, tossing and turning, trying to sleep.  I flipped from one side to the other and noted I only had a pillow on one side.

I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling.  Why, I thought, didn't I have another.  I have plenty of inexpensive pillows in the house.  It would be an easy matter to put one in my bed.

I finally concluded, I had felt it would be "over-indulgent".  A fifth pillow in my bed!  The horror!

Well, I thought, that's just STUPID.  I resolved to put the fifth pillow in my bed.  It took about a week, and a nasty migraine, but I finally rounded one up and placed it in the bed.

I still have trouble sleeping, but I'm a lot more comfortable in the process.  I'm glad I did it.

I think it's a little sad it took me so long, but that's OK, I'm learning.  Progress is important, not the speed.

Oh, and Ron?  He loves to sleep on a euro-square pillow, just one, a big 26 inch square.  He adores it.  It is really old, and I offered to replace it, but he always protests.  He really does like it.

So, I have my 5 pillows, he has his single, and when he comes to visit I throw a couple on the floor.

The Normals don't sleep any better

I really dislike talking about the "psychotic" parts of my illness.  I don't want to have it, I don't want to think about it, and God knows I sure don't want to write about it.

And yet, many nights, I lie in bed, hearing noises that might or might not be there.  Ron is about 50% deaf, so it can be pretty useless to ask him.  I can't exactly go bang on a neighbor's door, "Excuse me, do you hear a muted banging noise?"  Sometimes it sounds like a car, with the loud boom-boom speakers, a ways off... and maybe it is, maybe it isn't.

This morning, when I opened the door, the "noise" went away.  Same with a few nights ago.  So, then I'm faced with Doc's advice to "take another antipsychotic".

I go into whining mode; I don't want to to take an antipsychotic.  I don't want to NEED one, much less TWO.  I want to go to bed and sleep every night like the "normal" people do.

And then I got on a message board, or Facebook, and it looks like the "normals" don't sleep any better.  A lot of them have painful and debilitating physical conditions that affect their sleep.  Many have anxiety issues.

And my "possible hallucinations" with moderate anxiety and insomnia, look pretty average.

As I lie in bed, I ask God to give me a decent quality of sleep; even if I don't get the hours.  And I always do.  I always have just enough to keep me going through the next day, and get my God Time, too.

Time to recharge

I really detest drama in my own life; so, if I've written a blog or two that appears "dark", and I'm doing better, I'll say so.

So, I'm doing better.  I took my depression protocol medication, along with an OTC painkiller for the headache.  Pretty soon I started feeling better.

Ron woke up and we had a good talk.  We went to sleep, and I slept great.  Thank God.  I didn't even wake up with my usual "overslept" headache.  I hadn't really gotten an ideal night of sleep in at least a couple of days, so happily I caught up, I think.

And, we have today off.  I can catch up on laundry, etc, and just relax.  Tomorrow is not a hard or a long day, either.

Good.  I can use a little time to recharge.

Days like that

I get tired of it; being sick.  I want to have a life without battling a parasitic mood.  I want to have a nice visit, untainted by depression.  Well, I wasn't depressed when my parents were around, but let me tell you, before and after weren't much of a treat.

Even tonight, I battle depression, and a headache.  Can't I just savor happy memories?  No.  So, I thought, I'd look up my blogs from the last time they came to visit, only to discover I barely mentioned it.

And that made me sad again.  I get so tired, so weary.  I took my protocol medication, and some caffeine free headache pills.  Either I'll sleep great tonight, or horribly.  I'm not sure.

Right now I just want to wail about the injustice; lying in bed wondering if what I hear is real.  The battle to sleep, some nights.  I remind myself that latter happens to everyone.  Many, many, people get depressed.  I'm not foolish enough to assume I'm alone.

Unlike many people, I know what I have, and I have medication for treatment.  It's just tough when I want a hug from Ron, and he isn't willing because his leg is cramping up.  He apologized, but he isn't feeling any more cuddly, either.  

Days like today, when I should be very happy, but my brain says no.  Days like the one I bought the house, my cat died, and I had a horrible depression for weeks.  Days like that get me down, discourage me, and make me feel pretty cheated.

And then I remind myself: my faith in God ensures I'm going to Heaven, along with all my loved ones (they're all saved, too).  Instead of a couple days every few years, I'm going to have an eternity to enjoy them.

And I won't be sick, either.

"Make a good day of it"

So, lying in bed, unable to sleep, I had begged God to take my lack of sleep and mental problems, and make a good day out it anyway.  He did.

I got Ron's wheelchair (turns out we didn't need it), loaded, put our bags in the trunk, and headed off to my house.  I got my spare glasses, and we were off.  I forgot my nightgown.

Mom got some cute photos of Mr Bubba cat.  He required some cat treats.

So, off we went, to Galveston... sort of.  First, Dad had broken HIS reading glasses.  We went by my favorite dollar store and got a new pair.  Mom also needed a few items.  We went to a craft store, and got her some lovely yarn.

Lunchtime!  They don't have a  Cracker Barrel in CA, so we went to our local.  We all had a delicious meal.  I think my parents found it cute to hear the waitress fuss over Ron's "neglect".

Off to Starbucks, and now Galveston.  The mid-afternoon traffic was pretty easy.  We got to the hotel and found ourselves on the second floor.  "Good" Ron said, "I hate people walking around on top of me!"

The wheelchair stayed in the trunk the whole time.  Next time we can leave it at home.

We checked in and decided to take a nap.  Dad changed and hung out by the pool.  I took a nice shower in the lovely bathroom.  They have the best shower head in the world.  It has so many settings.  Ahhh.  Ron took a nap.  I couldn't sleep.

We left Ron napping and went to the grocery store.  We bought some bread and went looking for seagulls.  I couldn't find any on the beach.  Later on, I finally did "move" part of a loaf, to a pretty apathetic bunch of gulls, as Dad and I got munched by some nasty bloodsuckers.

Poor Dad kept applying cream to his bites all day today.

We went to dinner, had a great time.  Ron had told me he'd eat "finger foods" and did just that.  We went back to the hotel and bed.

During dinner, Ron noticed I was a little manic.  When he poked me in the leg, I tried to slow down.  In retrospect, I would have had a small snack and taken my lithium earlier.  As soon as I got back to the room, I took my lithium.

Well, I read a little and then went to bed.  I slept great, but since I didn't have a nightgown I wore an old shirt and some shorts.  I kept getting "wedgies".  Other than that, a wonderful bed and a pretty good sleep.  My alarm went off at 6:30.   I left the room about 7.  Mom and Dad were gone, to Starbucks.

I walked to Starbucks, but discovered I'd gone to the wrong one.  I went to the right one.  I drank my beverage, ate, took my pills, and got my lessons on how to operate the computer.  I'm on it right now.  It is awesome.

By the time we finished, Ron was up.  We went to breakfast, and I showed Mom how to operate a Kindle.  She is considering the purchase.  I think I sold her.

We went back to the hotel and checked out.  They always take good care of us at the hotel.

We drove around for a while, and I finally found some hungry seagulls.  They had a good feast (lots of photos taken, too), as Ron and Dad waited in the car.  I dialed Ron on my cell phone and put the phone on the sand, scattering bread all around.  Ron got a real earful of bickering seagulls!

We drove around some more, looked at some of the sculptures (many oaks destroyed in the hurricane became interesting sculptures), took some more photos, and got ice cream.  More Starbucks, and time to go.

It was a little more traffic-y coming home, but not horrible.  I could tell Dad was concentrating.  We got to the house and Mom got more great photos of Bubba (they should be going in my slide show, shortly), and some of me, Ron, and Bubba.

Off they went (my aunt lives pretty far away), and see you later.  They are doing really well "for their ages".  I see a lot of very unhappy, infirm people on the paratransit and Mom and Dad are still lively and healthy.  It's good to see.  I don't "have" to worry about them.

I look forward to seeing them again.  I love Houston, but I do wish they were closer sometimes.  Then I think of how much Dad would hate an average Houston summer, and I say "Maybe not!"

Happily, I think we all had a good time.  I consumed a ton of caffeine today, I hope I sleep OK tonight.  I'm glad I have the kind of life where we could take a couple days off to relax.

And notify...

It didn't get off to a good start.

Sure, Mom and Dad had come to visit.  Sure, we planned to go to Galveston.  Sure, I was even getting a new-to-me computer.

Sure enough, the depression hit; weeks long before the visit.  Ever tried to clean and organize a home while depressed?  Agh.  My glasses broke in June, then again last week, and then again on Monday.  Time for some new glasses!

So, Sunday, we all had a big family lunch, great to see everyone.  I got hammered with a horrible depression, so bad I had to take an antidepressant at night.  As a result, I slept horribly and had a few minor auditory "problems".

I lay in bed, hating the vague music that may or may not have existed, and begged God to please help me have a good time regardless.  To paraphrase an old story "Please take this and make a good day out of it tomorrow".

Monday, I had broken glasses and couldn't see a thing.

In fact, at work, someone tried to put a bill into all the vending machines.  It didn't work.  They presented it to me: and even unable to read I could tell it was a fake.  It looked ALL wrong.  I suggested they go to the credit union.

See, if a banking institution gets a fake bill, they KEEP IT and notify the authorities.  She just said never mind.  Someone with a real bill would have been a lot more upset.

Hm.  Not fun.  She wandered off and I went back to work, doing what I could.

Dad called, he was outside.  I once read a book that stated you should have the first couple minutes of "contact" as a positive experience, no matter how bad your day.  I fear I did not do that, very annoyed at my broken glasses.   It was time to go...

Whining

Mom and Dad are coming to visit, so I've been cleaning up.  I'm glad I only have carpet in a couple of rooms; tile is a lot easier to manage. 

Hard when I have a low energy level; Doc will be thrilled I'm not really getting manic, but it is a bit frustrating.  It's, like, tired or tired + depressed.  But then God sent me an episode of Law & Order, a psychotic guy off his meds killed a nice lady.  I don't want that to be me.  So, I swallow my handful of "sick-making" pills

One beautiful thing about my blog; I can come here and whimper.  I can whine, snivel and moan.  And you read about it and maybe think "Thank God I don't have that problem"  maybe you think about your own medication; or maybe you get a better understanding on why a loved one ISN'T taking their pills. 

Because I've noticed, loved ones HATE to hear about the side effects.  They empathize, but they're also a little scared.   Scared I will get tired and maybe stop (I'd die first) my medication.  Ron feels terrible, like he "ought" to be able to protect me from Bad Things, including medication side effects; but it's this or Heather the Hatchet.  Then he will yell at God.  [laughing]  Not easy to talk about the side effects. 

Don't worry, I know God can take care of Himself.  The book of Job; Job yelling at God.  At the end of the book, God gives Job DOUBLE everything he lost, so obviously God understands.  And I'm sure the God who created my husband understands his frustration at times. 

Happily, I can come here and vent MY frustrations in a very healthy manner; and maybe offer a little insight and education to boot.   Speaking of, I will be doing a partnership. 

I am a purist.  I saw a "monetized" blog recently and it looked HORRIBLE.... ads inserted at every paragraph.  Yuck.  I will not monetize my blog, if it means I'm out on a corner waving a "Now Leasing" sign at the passing cars every day. 

However, Gospel for Asia would like me to do an article now and then; sharing my perspective on some things they do.  I've been really busy but I'll be doing that.  They do REALLY good work in a sensitive and appropriate manner.  Good stewards, committed to the Great Commission (preach the Gospel to the whole world). 

So, that's upcoming.  I think that will be fun.  I like to help "good people".  I may be "Low Income" but I am happy to do that. 

So many good things out there, if I won the Lotto.  Oh, boy.  I'd have some fun. 

Selfish first: hire a professional driver service.  I could just make a call and have a car show up to take me anywhere.  Ahhh.   Pay off the house, fix the siding and bathroom.  I'd love to get a grab bar in the tub for Ron.  Get a couple different pairs of glasses, I always thought that would be cool to have a choice every day - which glasses to wear.  "I'll wear the purple today".  That's about it. 

I'd really have fun with the charity stuff; but God needs me here, where I am, handing out my bags of driver candy and doing my Bible Handouts. 

Done with the whining for now, the headache pills worked, and when Ron gets out of the tub it's shower time. 

Why not take advantage?

I didn't sleep well.  Too much caffeine, had me lying in bed listening to that noise.  Kind of vague, bassy thumps.  Ron says it sounds like something, I think it sounds like something else.  I can't really say too much because it could be identifying information.  AGH.  Bad people suck. 

I wish I could just TALK without wondering if the information could send some creep to my house. 

Anyway, didn't sleep well.  The noise kept waking me up.  Ron slept OK. 

We might go investigating later tonight, him in the wheelchair, if needed.  I love having the wheelchair for just that.  It is very odd, the noise goes from about 10 PM to 6 AM. 

I remind myself, we pay about the going rate for a one-bedroom in a mariginal area, to own a 3 bedroom home.  We have a decent yard, well over 1000 square feet.  We have a garage.  So, if we have a trade off, we do. 

I think it is safe to say we used to live near the airport for 3 years.  I'd hear the jets screaming in so loud Ron and I had to stop talking.  Day and night, every day of the year. 

For me, the oddest part of 9/11 was the silence.  They grounded all the airplanes, it was so quiet.  Safe to say, we do not live near the airport. 

Finally got up, did my God Time, took my shower, had a discussion with Ron about noisemakers.  He prefers I run one fan, and not the other.  OK. 

I am very easygoing on medication.  At least, I like to think I am! 

We ran to Foodtown.  I needed some soda.  They also had an incredible deal on canned food.  I had enough time to serve both agendas. 

I only had about $8 left from my paycheck.  However, Foodtown was having a sale on canned foods.  I got several cans of vegetable soup, and a couple cans of fruit canned in juice, for 50 cents each. 

I told Ron, I can't even can it for that price!  I was happy with my quantity - they were pretty heavy, too. 

Then, we went to work.  It was mainly accounting stuff today, which we did.  Then to the bank.  Did that. 

It's funny, if a noisy car drives by, I am used to that.  I am hoping, whatever the noise, it will either go away, or I'll get used to it.  It's not very loud. 

Anyway, DONE with talking about this, to me it borders on the hallucination stuff and I really prefer not to dwell.  I take my pills so I have a nice boring life.  It is odd, that most of the time I sleep fine; have problems for nights, then I don't. 

We went to the bank.  I had an interesting discussion, one I've been having a lot recently. 

"Fred" knows I am a Christian.  He knows I love my Bible.  However, he has run into one of the cults that hate and disparage the Bible, saying it has "been corrupted", etc. 

Well, I don't.  I will not allow said arguments on my blog, either.  I corrected him on one count (translations are done from the original Greek), and told him, no matter the translation, the truth is the truth.  Jesus came to earth and died for our sins.  We can only be saved by faith in Him, because even our best actions are "filthy" in God's sight.  God is perfect; and we have to be purified by faith in Jesus before we can enter Heaven. 

So, I had an issue.  Now I like to hand out a tract.  After I'm gone, the tract is still around, talking to whoever picks it up.  The tract can talk to people I never met.  So, I love a good, quality, tract. 

I did some research, couldn't find anything through the Google stuff.  Not what I wanted, at any rate. 

See, a lot of people think there is one "acceptable" version of the Bible.  I disagree.  I use a couple of various versions every day.  I find it very helpful; one version may provide insight that another did not.   Every Bible defense tract was praising the KJV. 

Frankly, my reading comprehension is not up to the KJV.  If you only use that, fine.  But I won't say there is only one version. 

Now, some people put out versions of the Bible that I don't like; I feel the meaning has been watered down.  Some things have been altered.  I won't name names, but if you ask God to show you the right Bible, He will.  You can also read many versions, online, for free. 

So, I'm on the hunt for a tract.  I sent an email to Grace and Truth.  I also asked for a good tract for the "I try to be nice, so I'm going to Heaven" crowd.  I'm sure I'll get what I need.   I need to place an order anyway, I have very few tracts. 

I am trying, to drastically reduce my caffeine intake.  I figure the caffeine makes me hypersensitive to noise at night.  I'm also adjusting my lithium, later.  I sleep great after taking lithium.  Why not take advantage?    I will also go to bed earlier. 

When we got home, Ron asked me to open the windows, and I did.  I had a lovely nap, with a mockingbird singing right outside the window during my entire nap.  It was lovely. 

When Ron woke up, I told him "God-created sounds are so much prettier then ones created by man." 

Doing alright

Here's a great little prayer from the Bible:
Proverbs 30:8-9

New King James Version (NKJV)
8 Remove falsehood and lies far from me;
Give me neither poverty nor riches—
Feed me with the food allotted to me;
9 Lest I be full and deny You,
And say, “Who is the LORD?”
Or lest I be poor and steal,
And profane the name of my God.

I try to live that.  Some issues, Ron has asked me to keep quiet, so I will.  I'm not much on obedience but I'll respect his wishes.  God always provides. 

Today was interesting.  I had two broken pairs of glasses.  Not fun. 

One pair had a break right in the nose, separating it into two halves.  The second had a corroded arm, and it was catching in my hair and pulling it - it was also about to fall off. 

Yes, I wear things until they wear out.  I could see, but not for long. 

I raided my small emergency fund and put one pair in a case, for transport (wore the others - I should mention I have to wear my glasses at all times).  Ron made a trip to a Starbucks. 

We rode there, had coffee together, and he went home alone.  I, having had a lovely date with my husband, went to the Dollar Store.  I needed some things. 

I got them, and found some awesome photo stickers featuring a black cat.  The cat looks exactly like my Bubba.  It is so cool.  For $1, I'll take them.  The stickers included some pumpkin/jack'o'lantern stickers I'll hand out to the kids. 

I got some driver candy; I wanted gum, I have it.  Sour gum.  Gumballs.  Regular bubble gum.  At a dollar a bag, I can't beat that. 

I made a trip and checked on our other vending machine, which needs stocking.  I called Ron and told him. 

Then I went to the eyeglass repairman.  He had a look a the patients, as I blinked at everything, trying to push up the glasses that weren't on my nose.  He gave me a sympathetic smile and quoted me something I could live with.  I paid him and sat down. 

I talked to my aunt (I could just make out her speed dial on the cell phone).   We chatted. 

Since he had two repairs, he took a little while, but he did a great job.  Both pairs look brand new.  It is very important, since I am so dependent on my glasses, to have a good backup pair.  I couldn't afford a new pair for weeks if something happened. 

I do plan to start saving for new "eyes".  At any rate, the "new" glasses looked great.  I have a warranty, too.  I was pretty broke but I gave him some candy.  He was happy! 

I had really good bus transfers to get to my next stop.  I went to the craft store and looked around; didn't buy anything - or want to.  Ron and I met, we came home. 

I took a nap, I was pretty wiped out.  Then I got up and did the online accounting report. 

Tomorrow I have to get up at 4. 

It was funny, though.  I was riding a bus today.  It is a very popular route, and in my opinion they could double the runs.  Everytime I get on the bus is packed. 

It runs through a pretty decent part of town; the nice areas are off the bus line.  In fact, in Houston "they" say "If it's near a bus line, it's a bad neighborhood".  I think that is stupid. 

I love my bus route.  Today, though, I was on a different one. 

I tend to ride in a few different categories of bus: the ghetto buses, in the really bad areas.  The moderate buses, that run through the bad areas, and nice ones, too.  I was riding on the latter bus today. 

As I looked around at the other passengers, I saw a guy with a tablet computer.  A guy who looked like a gang member texting.  At least one laptop bag.  Someone else watching a video on their cell phone.  Everyone had nice cell phones with slide out keyboards or touch screens.  Nearly everyone had headphones, indicating an MP3 player somewhere in the mix. 

As I watched them (quick glances, I don't stare), I thought, "In a lot of countries, these people would be the rich.  In America, we see them as poor because they don't have a car.  They don't have a car, but they have technology, every one of them. 

Myself included.  I have a nice little phone that gets email and does Facebook.  It doesn't like Blogger but that's OK.  It takes photos.  I have an MP3 player. 

We may have some struggles, but we are doing alright. 

This one's for you, Mom

I had a very fortunate experience when I was about 11 years old.  I had been formally diagnosed with "clinical depression".  I knew I felt terrible, and I needed information on how to deal with the illness. 

My adoptive mother stepped in.  She explained clinical "for no apparent reason" vs. traditional depression "If your father died".  She told me again and again, it wasn't my fault, I had a medical condition.  As my illness progressed, the manias came, and I battled the hallucinations I didn't even admit to myself, those words sustained me. 

I had a dreadful thought tonight, all the people out in the world, battling some flavor of mental illness feeling they are somehow to blame.  It's not your fault. 

You have a medical condition, just like I do.  Whenever I hear that someone's suicidal, I always tell them "You need to go to an emergency room or call 911".  I'm happy to do it; suicidal depression is a massive emergency. 

If I got shot in the chest, "everyone" would know what to do.  They'd apply pressure, call 911, and send me to a trauma center.  No one would question those choices. 

However, if I said "I'm depressed, really depressed, and thinking about death" - I'd get a whole spectrum of reactions.   The one I find most annoying, is the one that minimizes.  "Oh, sure you're having a bad day.  We all have them."  And I'd think I WANT TO DIE and you're telling me it's nothing?   [God forbid I became suicial I would take my own advice, and get to an ER or call 911]

Or, I got the truly awful ones: I call myself a Christian?  How could I doubt Him?  I had to fast, pray, crawl over broken glass, and repent of my sins.  I had sinned, and the depression was a judgement.  Well, thanks.  Why don't you just club me over the head while you're at it? 

That is not Biblical.  God can use pain to teach us lessons we can't otherwise learn (Job 33:19 says "chastened (taught/disciplined) on a bed of pain" - which I do see in my own life on occasion), but He is not out to torture us.  God loves us so much He sent His son to die for us.  I'll do another entry one day on lessons I have learned from my illness... but not now. 

So, I've encountered a minimizer, and a punisher.  Then I encounter the well meaning soul who says "I heard of a guy who killed himself."  Or "I knew a guy who was depressed", but they don't understand.  If they could do something to help, something that wouldn't be too difficult, they'd do it.  But they don't understand, can't understand, and can still give you some VERY bad advice. 

Last but not least, I encounter people who relate.  They have been there.  They have physical and mental scars from their battles with mental illness.  They are compassionate, kind, understanding, and not afraid to ask if you took your pills!  They understand because they have been that person. 

Generally, they're the ones who suggest a doctor, 911, or emergency room.  They know a suicidal depression is a medical emergency. 

And I want to make that clear: depression is an illness; a medical illness.

It has nothing to do with being a good person. 
It has nothing to do with your personal courage or strength.
It has nothing to do with choices you made in the past. 
It has nothing to do with your salvation, faith, or walk with God. 

It hurts, because you are SICK.  You are sick because you have an illness. 

What happens when you have the flu?  You take care of yourself.  You take your medicine, maybe see a doctor, get lots of rest, and don't beat yourself up for getting sick. 

If someone you love breaks a bone, you comfort them and get them to a doctor.  If medication is prescribed, you fill the prescription and make sure they take it as directed.   You love them and help them work around the injury until they are better. 

If you're depressed, please see a doctor.  Depression is not a punishment; it's an illness, just like diabetes.  It can be fatal if untreated. 

I know it might be hard to care, but think about those who love you.  It would cause them a lot of harm. 

I like toads

[Shudder]  I had a very exhausting 24 hours.  I know it's been a crazy day when I haven't even had my God Time at 8 PM. 

[sigh]  Last night, I apparently consumed one too many Diet Dr Peppers.  I got "activated" and had a hard time falling asleep.  As I lay there in bed, my heart racing, I kept hearing a vague, bassy-thump.  Like music. 

This is the infamous music I had problems with in July, too.  I lay there in bed, wound up, couldn't sleep.  Earplugs.  No, that actually made it worse. 

I heard Ron awake, and I asked him if he heard it.  He thought so, but wasn't sure.  We decided to take a walk.  Did that, and had a little disagreement about the music.  I thought it was one street over.  He thought it was south of us. 

We finally figured out it was out of the subdivision altogether.  I could still hear it back in the house, and I was pretty wound up - irritated.  My glassed broke right at the nose, so I had to get out the old, decrepit pair. 

Great.  Now, I have to go to the eyeglass repair store tomorrow; on my day off.  I like to have a little choice, you know? 

I was really irritable, and after Ron hid in his room I thought "I need to do my protocol".  Doc said, take this and that.  I did. 

While I waited on the medication, I sat in my chair, watching "Hoarders", 1 in the morning, in my nicely organized front room, bagging up driver candy, sitting in my chair in my old nightgown, listening to that NOISE!

Telling myself, Heather, you STUPID, don't drink Dr Pepper in the evening! 

Pretty soon I didn't care, started feeling pretty groggy (I do not take sleeping or anti-anxiety things as I am at exceptional, 80%+ risk of addiction).  I went in my room.  I could hear the noise, but I didn't care as much. 

Ron came out of hiding, and we turned on a fan in addition to my noisemaker, and I dropped off. 

Obviously, this morning was going to be a challenge.  I got up, took a shower, shaved my legs.  That was about it! 

Well, I got dressed!  [laugh] 

Our ride came.  We went to the Taqueria near our house for breakfast.  Ron and I love their breakfast, he's very fond of the chilaquiles.  I got a cheese quesadilla and a breakfast taco.  Yum. 

Our ride came early, and parked.  Ron called dispatch and said "Tell them I will be out at my pickup time, I just got my food so I can't leave early" - rules say we have until our pickup time,  The rules, say.  [snort] 

I even stopped eating, got up, and took her a takout menu.  With 15 minutes to go she had plenty of time for a taco.  As I approached the cab, I saw she was on the phone.  She started swatting in my direction like I was a gnat, trying to shoo me off.  Rather rude, I thought, but I still gave her a big smile and the menu. 

She drove off.  I thought, maybe she's running an errand.  She never came back.  She lied and told the dispatcher we weren't even there!  And she SAW us!   Ron and I were right by the window! 

Ron called in a complaint.  Then he realized we would miss our ride to work if we didn't get home quick.  So, he called a subsidized cab and got a ride with a nice guy. 

Our driver was a little distressed when we got home, looking for the cat!  "Where's the cat?  Is he OK?"  [grin]  Bubba's a real charmer.  I gave him some driver candy - the same candy + scripture booklet I had bagged up 7 hours earlier. 

We got our ride to work.  Oooh, it was BIG TIME!   Metrolift had hired a regular cab. 

A nice, fancy, Chrysler 300.  I felt very "big time".  The merchandise fit into the trunk.  Boy, they have a huge trunk.  The driver even handed Ron a cable so he could play his music on the speakers.  Nice! 

We got to work, stocked, I got the numbers and information on the burned out lightbulbs (I lost 2 recently - specialty bulbs for my snack vendors).   Helped Ron ("You're a big help today" - never get tired of hearing that). 

Speaking of Ron, he's asleep in a chair outside.  I just took him a blanket, not that it's chilly, but he might like one.  He woke up a little, and as I walked back to the house I found a huge toad in the yard.  Cool.  I like toads.  I sweet talked it for a minute and came back. 

God only knows what happened to our pickup from work - dispatch said they had "a problem".  We got another hired cab - another bag of candy, the third of the day only given, BECAUSE our trips were so messed up! 

We went to the light bulb store.  He is a very nice man, and a small business owner.  I gave him my data and he got our bulbs. 

Happily our last trip was great.  Kaleb pulled up right as we finished, and we got a ride home.  I told him about the blog - we've been riding with him for ages.  He loves Driver Candy. 

I got home and took a nap.   When I got up I had to help Ron with the accounting report and cleaning up the yard.  I picked up the stuff that goes in the trash, and will take out the cans later.  I also need to check the mail. 

Boy, I am beat.  Now time to hang out with Him. 

It's not raining bleach!

Agh.  A fair amount of drama today; and a whole lot of gratitude. 

I got up at 5 AM to do my canning.  However, a piece had fallen off and I couldn't get it to work.  I was really upset, I adore my canner.  I was also frustrated, because I had 7 pint jars of stew, and 2 of beef stock with soup meat, and COULDN'T PROCESS! 

I turned it off, took the jars out, let them cool (everything was cooked before going into the jars), and stuck them in the fridge.  Only one DIDN'T seal. 

Ron and I had a plan to go to Walmart anyway, now I really needed to do so.  They sell pressure canners, at least mine does.  I also needed more canning jars and lids while they still have them in stock (they are seasonal). 

So, we loaded up.  It was, like, the Walmart shuttle bus.  EVERYONE on the van was going to Walmart.  2 electric wheelchairs, a walker, a cane, me, Ron and another "ambulatory".  I managed to grab the "good cart" with the seat on the back.  I popped Ron into the seat, and encountered 2 managers as a shopped.  I made a point of telling both of them, "Look, because you have this cart I'm buying all this".  They were impressed. 

So, I got my jars, lids, pressure canner, and girl stuff.  I got some soda.  Ron got a jar of the dark roux (apparently there are reigonal differences in gumbo styles - he prefers a dark roux, chicken and sausage.  The New Orleans style has a lighter roux, tons of seafood, and an assortment of meats. 

I can only find the dark roux at Walmart, in the "reigonal cooking" area, with the crab boil and stuff.  I asked Ron if he wanted to get chicken and sausage, he said no.  I'd rather get that from Foodtown.  They don't put chemicals in the meat. 

We are in an extreme drought condition.  Happily, it started pouring while we shopped, and has rained all day.  I am so thrilled.  My trees!  My greens!  I planted some amaranth this year in a pot, it went native and escaped to the lawn.  I need to pick it and eat it.  Why mow a perfectly edible, organic, green?  I'm organic.  I don't have dogs in the yard (it is fenced).  I'll eat it. 

I have really good soil. 

I thought it was sad and more than a little strange, everyone acted like it was raining bleach, instead of water.  It's water, people.  But they hunched up, pulling shirts over their heads.  Putting plastic bags on their heads.  SCREAMING at their kids to hurry up, and pull up your hood. 

I understand, some cultures, water is very bad for the hairstyle; making it frizzy.  I can understand that.  What I didn't "get", all the anglos running around like it was raining clorox.  It's water.  The stuff you drink.  The stuff you bathe in. 

[baffled shrug]  I don't get it; and I've wanted to talk about this for a bit, as you can tell.  We haven't had any rain to remind me! 

I just went out in the rain, now and then, looking for our ride and giving an inquisitive look at the shrieky types.  One woman told me I'd get sick because my hair was getting wet.  My hair gets wet every day, in the shower.  What is the difference?  Well, I'm not naked and I don't have any shampoo (I didn't say this). 

Best part of all, Ron bought most of the canner.  I've been wanting two, so I can do more at once.  I had planned to save up for this. 

We came home, and had a little conflict about position.  Ron stood on the porch, pretty much in front of the front door, listening to it rain.  I got annoyed. 

I realized I was peeved, because, when I walk in the house, I have to walk about 10 feet before I can put down my shopping bags.  Once I put everything away, I attacked the front room.  I now have a "Loading dock" right inside the front door, but out of Ron's footpath (I can't put anything on the floor where he might walk, or he'll trip and fall).   I watched a hoarding show while I cleaned. 

I took a nap, and when I woke up I got ready to pour the water out of my old canner.  I found the part!  Awesome!  My baby is fixed, AND I have an extra.  I am thrilled.  I have been doing a lot of canning, Ron loves it, and I always process by the book. 

In fact, for meat things, I actually add extra time. 

Pleasing God

It is interesting how God uses events and people to motivate me. 

I have a tendency to spend time on a message board.  I could be doing other, useful things, but I read a lot, run up my post count, etc.  Maybe God wants me to re-evaluate my use of time. 

It seems, on a regular basis, I experience online frustrations.  Things I find unfair, are permitted, and things I think are unjust, promoted.  Both happened tonight.  In the second case, I am extremely angry.  Bad memories triggered by a statement, etc... I don't need to go there; and I won't. 

So, for me, I think it's time for a break. 

I always get anxious when people start praising "me".  I worry about ego, and becoming useless.  I worry I'll get so addicted to approval I won't be doing God's will. 

Recently, I HAVE had a lot of people telling me I was so wonderful... amazing, etc.  I don't really care about that; am I pleasing God?  I'll clean toilets every day of the year if that's His will for me.  If you haven't read it, pleasing God is my #1 job. 

What makes me happy?  "Oh, Heather, you have inspired me!  I'm going to hand out some tracts!"  Awesome!  I love to hear someone say they will pray for "my" recipients, or me.  I love to incite evangelism. 

A favorite song is "Firestarter".  I WISH.  That would be so cool. 

Anyway, my #1 job is pleasing God.  I will focus on that. 

After all, when I'm done cooking my cube steaks Ron is waiting outside.  We can sit in our chairs, enjoy the night, and chat. 

Steps to forgiveness.

No, I am NOT going to do some blubbery, drama-queen post about how I've been so injured, no one loves me, etc.  Ugh.  I'll make myself queasy! 

I prayed on this before I did start typing.  I have suffered.  This may be the first time you've ever read a post of mine. 

Background: Mother drank while carrying me; permanent, lifelong brain damage.  Unable to drive or hold down a "good" job. 

I have experienced: severe neglect; physical abuse (I have scars); mental abuse (I still battle with self-esteem issues), psychotic, delusional mental illness; ongoing hallucinations, many suicidal depressions; bipolar disorder; violent, physical attacks from strangers (a couple of times), sexual battery; loving someone enslaved to alcohol,  etc.  For most of my life, I have felt that I can only rely on God. 

Now that I have estabilished my "credentials"; I'd like to share what I've learned about forgiveness. 

The Bible is very clear, that we MUST forgive those who harm us.  Go to a site like Bible Gateway and type in the word "Forgive".  It's very interesting, and, I have found, very convicting.

I will use an example to  illustrate the forgiveness process, as I see it. 

I was mugged, at a bus stop, right before Christmas.  Mugging fail  If you read it, notice the very last line: I put him on the prayer list. 

Alright, so there I am, my arms covered in bruises, and minus a tote bag.  I have just been violently assaulted by a complete stranger.  Even more alarming, I think, was the fact I VIOLENTLY ASSAULTED a complete stranger. 

I had ALWAYS figured myself for the "smart" victim, who "gives it up and doesn't get hurt".  HA!  By God's grace I wasn't killed. 

I am, clearly, completely "freaked out".  It has been a tremendous shock.  At first, the adrenaline carried me for hours.  I went to the mall.  I went to the sporting goods store, and then I went home. 

At the bus stop, going home, I was completely paranoid.  By the time I got home both forearms ached ferociously.  When I removed my long-sleeved shirt, I was covered in deep bruises that lasted for weeks.  If my husband had seen them (he is blind) he would have hunted my mugger down and killed him.

I was ATTACKED.  I knew I had to forgive him; and I had to pray for him.  God is completely clear on both. 

But he hit me!  I was just standing there at the bus stop!  I SMILED at him!   I would have given him some candy! 

1.  I realized, I would need God's help with the process.   I asked Him to help me get to the point of forgiveness and "Praying for you daily". 

2.  I began to pray for him.  It was "Take CARE OF HIM, Lord", for quite a while, but I prayed it everytime I had a flashback (pretty often). 

3.  As a crippling depression set in (and I had such a lovely mania the day I was attacked), I began to pray for him in more detail.  I also began to count my blessings and realize it could have ended so badly.   Ron and I (my husband) were not doing very well.  I didn't have much respect for him and I felt I couldn't depend on him, either.  However, he was always there  when I needed a hug.  I got a much better relationship, as a result of the mugging. 

I was also told, being beaten by a "white woman in glasses" disqualified him from the gang.  It was a gang initiation.  Not only that, the fact that *I* beat him up would have ruined his reputation.  The other thugs wouldn't have associated with him (per a former gang member). 

4.  I had a hard time coming to an understanding of the attack.  He was not a poor man.  He had lovely skin and beautiful teeth, he was obviously from a wealthy family, "playing" at being a bad boy.   Normally in the forgiveness process God will give me an understanding of the other person's viewpoint, but I never did with Thug Boy (I had to call him something). 

5.  God gave me an empathy for the man, and others in bondage to gangs.  I have actually done a modest amount of evangelizing to young men involved in gangs, or from bad neighborhoods.  I forgave him. 

6.  Now I want to pray for them, every day.

I am a lot more careful at the bus stop, but I don't walk around paranoid either.  I know whatever happens to me is God's will, and He used me in significant ways as a result of "my" mugging.  This is just one example. 

I'll restate the steps - this isn't "mine" or "the only way", but it has worked very well for me and God gets the credit. 
1.  Ask God to help you walk the road to forgiveness. 
2.  Pray for them, even though you don't want to do it. 
3.  Ask God to give you empathy and understanding for the other person.  As He does so, really try to get into their head.  See WHY they did it.  Maybe they are just a sick, and evil person.  Maybe they experienced abuse.   Maybe they went off their meds, or were drunk. 
4.  Ask God to give you the will to forgive them.  A lot of times, I haven't wanted to forgive because "That meant they got away with it" - however I am promised, and you are too, that "God will repay" - Hebrews 10:30.  Remember that.  It's perfectly OK. 
5.  As you pray for them, try to see things from their perspective, and remember God will repay, forgive them. 
6.  KEEP PRAYING FOR THEM!  You may be the only person who will. 

I hope this helps.  (((hugs)))

Defiant Faith

Someone (another Christian) referred to my "defiant faith".  When I hear something like that, I like to chew on it for a while. 

I concluded, you know, they're right.  I think ANYONE would agree, regardless of their "religious" viewpoint.  I have also had "intolerant" thrown my way a few times this week, too. 

I have an annoyed Muslim asking why I shaved Ron, is there something wrong with looking like a Muslim?   To that I say, no, nothing wrong with how a Muslim man presents himself to the world.  They are always clean, tidy, and hard workers.  The clothes look a lot more comfortable than what we wear.  However, Ron looks better with a shorter beard.  Not to mention, he won't scare the customers, drivers, and my parents when they come to visit. 

I think, generally speaking (and I hope the guy finds his way over here), the "Western" norms of dress and grooming prefer a man with a short beard, if at all.  I know the everyday people we encounter feel that way, too. 

Ron can be obnoxious and profane.  I wouldn't want him looking like "my" gang if I were Muslim. 

[shrug]  Maybe I should have said, "Ron looks like a homeless, mentally ill man off his meds, living under the overpass when he has a long beard.  Even I get a little scared.  So I trimmed his beard".  But then I'd probably have someone posting on my offensive comments about the mentally ill! 

Anyway, back to my original point: my faith is a huge part of my identity.  Without my faith I wouldn't have made it to age 14.  I never would have survived 2006. 

So, I feel, if you see things you admire, a comment that motivates, a perspective you find helpful, that is all God, in me.  I'm just reflecting what I have learned and absorbed. 

My faith has been tested in terrible, deadly, times.  I could only rely on God to sustain me. 

Which is why I do have a defiant faith. 

I'm praying for you, here's how I do it.

Matthew 5:10

Tonight, I had a couple of people "yelling" at me. 

Why?  Because I said, without accepting Jesus' sacrifice, a person will go to hell when they die.  I also said I would pray for them.  They got upset, and one said "Oh, my friend doesn't need prayer, she's a really nice person." 

Honey, I don't care how nice you are, if you die without Jesus you are going to hell. 

I felt kind of bad; even a Facebook friend, I felt, ought to know that I am an evangelical Christian.  They ought to know I think being born-again is the only way to get to Heaven.  Since she didn't know that, I have to wonder if I "failed". 

Maybe she has so many friends she didn't notice my posts?   I hope so.  I would hate to think I wasn't a light in the darkness. 

It was pretty clear that I would probably have one less "friend" when I log on again; but that's OK.  I felt they had to hear the truth in a kindly manner.  I didn't scream about hellfire, it was mainly my usual "God has been so good to me, I want others to have Him and I'm praying for you daily". 

I don't see anything in the Bible about being a hater, but Romans 1:16 says "I AM NOT ASHAMED OF THE GOSPEL".  I'm not.  I will not be ashamed, waffle, or modify the truth.  Matthew 5:10 says that I am blessed when people "revile" and persecute me. 

Of course, Ron had a whole lot to say, criticizing.  It's like, what?  He doesn't even know the woman; and it is hard to value "spiritual judgements" he passes - long term readers know why.   He just said "I'm not hear to teach you".  Well, then, why are you criticizing. 

And before people say "Well, Heather, isn't that what you did?"  No, I don't believe it is. 

I just shared my faith, I want people to have what I do, and I stated my belief that people who die without accepting Jesus' salvation end up in hell.  I finished it off by saying I would pray, and then responded to a very hateful, profanity-laced post, by sharing the story of the atheist and the evangelist:

The atheist once invited the evangelist to his house.  "You believe" he said "That I will go to hell, when I die, if I don't accept Jesus?"  The evangelist agreed.  The atheist became angry "You have NEVER tried to share Him with me!  According to your beliefs I am going to hell, and you won't try to save me!" 

That's how I left it. 

I believe it is important to state the truth, even if it means my husband and some people online decide to shout at me.  If I get "unfriended".  If my marital life is a little difficult for the next couple days because Ron and I disagree on reaching the unreached. 

I told Ron, I perceive him as just holding on, until Jesus takes him home, on way or another.  He disagreed, stated he "Tries to share God with willing people, now and then, if they seem receptive, and God draws people to Him anyway." 

I tried to restate it.  "It's a lot like our taste in music.  You like old soul music.  I prefer something with a lot more intensity and drive.  It's the same with evangelism.  I have a lot more drive and intensity." 

He didn't like that analogy.  That's when he started nitpicking about a window I opened, etc. 

Which brings up a question.  Why ask a lot of vague questions about why a window was open, and other the other window, and why?  Why not just say "Please open the back window, it is stuffy in here."  When I said that I was accused of "attacking" him. 

[rolleyes]  Ron also mentioned he thinks I "like" being persecuted.  He didn't use the word "persecuted".  Why would I like it?  I don't like having people yell at me, curse at me, call me names, slam doors as they storm away from me, curse me under their breath, and gossip. 

Ugh.  Ron came back, and I told him "If you want a window shut say it".  Then he starts in with "normal people would know that".  I told him "Yeah, normal would have put you in a nursing home, too".  It went the way my usual requests for accomodation go; mr narcissistic can't fathom making an accomodation for me. 

I told him "If I carried on the way you did, when you asked me to read you something, we wouldn't be married for 2 days.  Yet, if I ask for a simple request, GUARANTEED, you will curse at me, judge me, criticize, and then get very condescending. 

I was thinking about marriage in general tonight, and one thing that came up: the thought that only God can give me the grace I need to deal.  I can't always love him in my own "strength".  However, I can work on my marriage with God's help. 

So, if Ron goes to bed tonight thinking I am  "Unloving" because I told him I need some personal time (I left him alone when he wanted it), that's OK.  He has to answer to God for HIS behavior, and I have to answer for mine. 

And, regarding Facebook, I would absolutely say what I did, again.  I am sure my other friends found the whole thing interesting.