Where Can I Find Some Sticks?

Today's high temperature was: 52 degrees

Sunny all day.

========================

Melissa!!! Thanks for supper.  I picked-up a Subway on
the way home from the Chiropractor!!  Bless you!

I have been a writer since I was twelve, when my story of a hermit living in the woods, won me an A+ in sixth grade.  I got my first Diary at age 14.  I used to write things in my diary, hoping my mother would find it and read it, so she would know how I felt.  Then, when I was a senior in high school, I started using codes so if she DID read it, she wouldn't know what I was writing about, LOL.  I have a large plastic storage box filled with journals from the last 40 years.

I have never been good at showing my emotions.  I can't articulate them verbally--I get too emotional.  So, I have to write them down...more or less to see them, read them and get the emotions out of my mind so I don't think about them all the time. I sometimes open up that big plastic box and re-read those journals. 

OHMYGOSH! I cannot believe how stupid I have been over the last "post-divorce" two decades.  It makes me feel good to see how I have changed and grown a lot wiser, but...do I want my kids or sister to read them when I am primped and pretty in my casket?

I should burn them, but there is a no burning rule in this park.  I should throw them in the garbage, but then I can just see someone going through the land fill, hunting for blue bottles and coming upon my journals and writing a novel.  I do like to read them from time to time, but...I am thinking of how I can keep them and then make them disappear moments before the heart attack or stroke takes me out of here, never to return.  

Of all you "nameless, faceless" blessed women who read my posts, you are neither nameless or faceless too me.  By what you have written on your own blogs, by the pictures you have posted,  I can visualize where you are.  I can see your faces.  I know about your families and friends AND, I DO feel very close to you.  It would be wonderful to all get together and yet...perhaps that would spoil the mystique?  I would be embarrassed to stand before you and then, of course, I would cry and.......................well, you know.  Better this way, where we can comment and encourage, give advice, and just be brutally honest in what we write on our own pages.

Actually, in this group of 9 or 10 women who read my posts, I have 2, not so nameless nor faceless.  My real life in the body friends, Beth and Chris.  I have known Beth for nearly 70 years and I have known Chris for 30.  I dare say, in all those years, they probably know me better through this blog then they ever did in "real" life.  I just don't share my desperation in "real" life, as I do on this blog. (Although, Chris did see that about 25 years ago.)

I didn't even share these kinds of things with my very best friend Arlene.  She would have looked at me strangely and said, "Dammit Jude!  You can't do anything about it so, get over it!"  If she ever WAS into deep thinking about emotions, she certainly never showed it nor talked about it.

My sister gets me, but then again, I have a certain big sister status I must maintain.  About this Jennifer thing, my sister said, "Oh well, you know how overly dramatic she can get.  I refuse to be involved in her drama."  I don't share too much with my daughter's because,  Jen is their baby sister and I am their mother and I don't want to ever make them feel they have to choose sides.  They have both felt the "Wrath of Jennifer", as we call it, so they know, but they also care deeply about her.  Besides, if I tried to discuss it with them and my son, I would just cry and that's no good!

I can't really share these feelings with Pearl or Dar.  Neither one of them would understand why, two years out, I am still going through grief.  Dar would understand the whole alienation of daughter thing, as her daughter has not talked to her for almost 3 years and she hasn't seen her grandchildren, but in Dar's case, it is NOT her fault (but of course it is) and she explains it away because "my daughter is mentally ill, (which of course she isn't)  Besides all that, I am their go-to person for their problems.  I am their listener--the one to see it in an objective way--the one to calm them down..

So--you are the poor ones who have to read this stuff--or just pass on by--whatever.  There is no way you will ever realize how much your comments mean to me.  Just to know that there IS someone out there who "gets it", makes it a whole lot better!

As Jaye commented yesterday, I gotta find the sticks to start building a ladder out of the deep hole I am in.  I promise you I will--just like that picture on the upper right side of this blog says, "I always get up"-  I may not stand as straight as before, but I will get back up!