Heather runs the gamut as she blogs on managing her bipolar disorder, coming to terms with medication, sharing her faith, her latest project, and stocking the vending machines for her husband, who's blind. "1 Corinthians 4:12-13 (New International Version)
We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; when we are slandered, we answer kindly. Up to this moment we have become the scum of the earth, the refuse of the world."
I was up all night stressing out about the electric bill. The billing lady at Walmart said she had to have a new bill, and cast a very skeptical eye at our $1900 "credit". I checked the "extra" bill we had and it was for the old billing cycle, too. Agh.
I did not sleep well.
I got up and we went to another Sam's Club, not our usual. This one has Dark Roast Community Coffee, it makes a very good cup and the customers love it. It is also an acceptable price point as well. I went, bought a few other things for work, and got 25 pounds of coffee. We shouldn't need to go back for months now.
We had an hour wait before our pickup. It finally came. Then we had an hour ride to work. We picked up an older lady with dementia, who lived at some apartments that flooded badly back in April. She was asking the driver to take her to a different store than the one on the trip computer, and he told her he couldn't do it. He had to pic…
I didn't sleep too well last night. I had abdominal cramps and some urgency. I finally figured out it was the shake I had with dinner - dairy and I aren't getting along these days.
I have a theory God only made us to consume milk during the childhood and reproductive years, once we are past that we lose our tolerance. I have no problem with people drinking milk, but I can't.
I finally got some sleep, but I was really tired when I woke up. I hit the snooze a few times and finally dragged myself out of bed.
I was going to work, so I had to look OK. I took a shower and dressed in all black (depressed), donned my Santa hat, put on my badge and keys (I wear my keys around my neck so I don't lose them), and finally donned my back brace.
I didn't expect to be doing a lot of heavy lifting today, but you never know. I did know we needed orange soda. We were "short" on our delivery last week.
I couldn't believe it. My nephew had posted an image of my birth mother on Facebook, talking about how "I didn't see her much, but she was wonderful".
Another (apparent) family member insisted: "I admired [name] when we were first married. Then I grew up and realized the pain in her heart and I cried for her. I wanted so much to spend time with her."
What the? At first I was angry, this is the woman who maimed me for life with her prenatal drinking. This is the woman who, diagnosed with bipolar disorder, refused to take her medication. This is the woman who literally smoked herself to death. The woman found dead with a large bottle of vodka on the nightstand.
For me, she maimed me, massively neglected me, ran off when she was caught neglecting me, denied custody by the courts but given full visitation, every time I learned to trust her she ran off again, and everyone acted like she was the victim.