I <3 God, sheepie

Facts??? I think not . . .

Brought to you by wrong answers guessed by random trivia players.
Started on Saturday, June 6, 2015 . . .


  1. Saudi Arabia is the world's tallest land mammal.
  2. Greece is located in the continent of Spain.
  3. Fresh kale is blue.
  4. Kevi Vacon is the name of an actor.
  5. Winnie the Pooh lives in Shermon woods.
  6. Oslo is the capital of Switzerland.
  7. The term for the distance light travels in one year is revolution.
  8. Crimson is a shade of blue.
  9. A rat is an insect.
  10. A comet is a children's outdoor toy attached to a string.
  11. There was a king of England named Henry Visio.
  12. Andrew Carnegie made his fortune in the opera industry.
  13. The original color of Yoshi from the Super Mario Bros. series of games is purple.
  14. Spiderman is a Disney villain.
  15. Bilbo Baggins is a character in Harry Potter.
  16. In the American English dictionary, the letter Z comes before the letter W.
  17. Roosters are used in equestrian sports.
  18. The country of South Africa is on the continent of Europe.
  19. St. John was the first pope.
  20. People who support football teams are known as both air conditioners and ventilators.
  21. A sundial is a type of clock that wakes people up.
  22. There is a Disney movie called Snow White and the 7 Clowns.
  23. In the medical field, gestation means both farting and digestion.
  24. Roses produce saffron.
  25. There is a saying that goes, "An apple a day keeps the disease away."
  26. A cube has eight faces.
  27. Carbon dioxide smells like rotten eggs.
  28. A seagull is a type of fish.
  29. The wisemen brought baby Jesus gifts of gold, silver, and pottery.
  30. Mother Goose wrote The Cat in the Hat.
  31. Ernest Hemingway wrote The Cat in the Hat.
  32. Ariel is a male Disney character that falls in love with Princess Jasmine.
  33. Lady from Lady and the Tramp is a poodle.
  34. Tom of Tom and Jerry is blue.
  35. Tommy from The Rugrats has the last name Rugrats or Rug.
  36. The wisemen brought gifts of gold, pearls, and diamonds to the baby Jesus.
  37. Superman either came from the planet Neptune or Saturn.
  38. According to Beyonce, if you liked it, you shouldv'e put your lips on it.
  39. Horse milk is made to make chevre (a type of cheese).
  40. Bactrians and dromedaries are bears.
  41. Tetanus is known as the Black Death.
  42. House cats are diesel powered.
  43. Polo is a sport that is played on the backs of either camels or ostriches.
  44. Lying under oath is known as either burglary or larceny.


Brought to you by wrong answers guessed by random trivia players.
I <3 God, sheepie

I NEED HELP!

I NEED help. Seriously NEED help, please, anybody who can find help for me . . .

I got home tonight and I thought I just stepped in dog pee, so was going to get stuff to clean that all up. Right now, there's a cabinet file in my hallway because it was something Briana and I were going to work on getting organized into my room. Anyway, I went back into the hall after going into the bathroom and realized the TOP of the filing cabinet was all wet. I knew dogs couldn't pee on top of the filing cabinet!

Yep, my ceiling is leaking, probably from the air conditioning. I see that it is peeling. It wasn't doing that when I left this morning to go to the meeting about Briana's care. It was completely dry. That means it happened while I was gone today.

I think I'd have the $60 trade call fee for the company from Choice Home Warrany (if they could even come and fix the problem). BUT I know they won't come into my house in the condition it is in.

Yes, I keep cleaning a little bit whenever I am feeling okay. However, the nursing home still keeps me running around doing other stuff, too. I have to bring documents, attend meetings, go and do other things for Briana' health.


So, now I've got a VERY WET filing cabinet and hallway. I know things will just need to be thrown out. I need LOTS of help, though.

HELP, HELP, HELP, HELP, PLEASE! I NEED HELP.
I <3 God, sheepie

For Some Reason, It Just Feels Right to Share This Now . . .

I wrote this back on April 6, 2012. I don't know why, but I just feel like sharing it now, for some reason it feels right to do such a thing . . . and the response, which came just a day later. I sent it to the person who heads or headed the group, Ricci Milan (and he says he last name as "My-lan" and not like the city in Italy).

I wrote:

I've seen "Feet Don't Fail Me Now" twice. Y'all are amazing.

I'm a writer and one day hope to at least have a well-selling book.

I'm also a freelance writer - but I'll contact you about possible interview later.

I had no idea what to expect the first time you came to Lake Charles, LA. My family happened to have season Banner Series tickets that year. I was looking forward to you and to the Aluminum show. While the Aluminum show as cool and it was sold out, and extremely crowded.

However, I fell in love with FDFMN and Rhythmic Circus.

As an INFP and a creative person, I love the feelings I get from watching y'all.

I had a really bad day the second time you came to Lake Charles. However, nothing was going to stop me from seeing FDFMN again. I knew I would love the performance and I knew it would make me feel better.

I cannot explain it. I was not in love. I was not feeling well.

However, when Rhythmic Circus gets up on the stage and starts dancing, it fills my soul and my whole being with joy. My heart and soul and creative being are filled so full watching everybody and listening to the creative way everything is put together.

Even though I wasn't in love with anybody, it felt like I was totally in love - like I was filled up with love for somebody that I would never give up in my entire life.

I can't explain it, but your joy, your enthusiasm, your creativity, and your energy fill me up like that and I cannot imagine not going to see a show when you are in my area.

I'm always inspired to be more creative after seeing you, too. I go home energized with creativity and ideas.

FDFMN is that inspiring and awesome. Please, continue to do what you do! Please keep bringing joy to everybody! Please keep doing workshops with children to help them (as a Youth Ministry person and mentor, this is extremely important to me).

And, yes, Ellen for FDFMN!!! I want to see y'all on Ellen!

Bridget Ilene Delaney

He wrote back:
wow, i kinda teared up a bit there. thank you Bridget! beautiful words! i promise to keep spreading the love if you promise to do the same! FDFMN!!! anything is possible!
I <3 God, sheepie

Brisket - How can it be so happy and so sad at the same time?

Today, Briana and I had to go out to Westlake so we could pay for the car detailing (despite having to wait three days longer than promised for it) and get the car towed back to the Kia dealership.

However, with Briana making money at her job, she decided that we should stop for dinner (and I had to use the bathroom, so we really didn't want to be rude anywhere, and stopping was good for us). We stopped at this place called Jeanne's Bourbon Street BBQ. Briana ordered the sampler plate for us to share. She doesn't eat beef, so I got the brisket (just two little slices_. I also ate the sausage (a cut up link) because she found it too spicy, then I took one pork rib and tiny bits of the chicken and pulled pork. I had the baked beans and I took a tiny bit of macaroni and cheese. We each had a roll and then for dessert we each had a piece of cheesecake drizzled with chocolate and topped with whipped cream.

All of the food was good, of course. However, this is the first time that I've had any brisket that was close to my Mama's in any way. It made me happy and sad. It wasn't quite like my Mama's, but it was very tender. I think I only had my Mama's once or twice in my life because she was so sick that she didn't cook it often and then as she got worse, her cooking got worse and her ideas about cooking got worse.

However, when she wasn't so bad, she could make a brisket in the oven that was so tender, the meat would fall right off the bone. You literally couldn't slice the meat into slices because it was that tender. It was almost like a pulled brisket because of how tender it was.

I remember that and loving it so much.

It made me so sad and so happy at the same time. It was like I wanted to cry, but I also didn't want to cry. I'm still feeling that way.

Also, I'm still waking up with a very strange feeling and I hate that. I really wish I would wake up and feel normal. I want to feel completely like myself. I don't know why it went back to being this way.
I <3 God, sheepie

Can I ever be back to my normal self? Is there such a thing?

I miss the me that was the me back when I was getting my first undergrad degree. My parents were alive. My maternal grandfather was alive. I saw people every day. I was happy and busy and had social engagements, even if they were mandated by school and school activities.

I do keep busy these days, but it just doesn't feel the same. I worry too much about what is in heaven. I feel like I have too much doubt even though I definitely believe in Jesus Christ and that He died on the cross to save me and all sinners so that they would have eternal life.

I worry too much about what this second death is at times and pray that I will not be a part of that.

Yet, maybe, that is when even the unbelievers are raised from the dead for their judgement and if they still to do not believe and do not repent, they go to the second death along with the demons and Satan? Maybe? I don't know. I'm not trying to teach any one thing that I don't know. I'm not God. I'll just say what seems to be what God reveals to me and still tell people to read the scriptures and pray.

Yet, I cry. I cry lots. Sure, I cried lots before, too. Of course, when my parents were alive, they were experts at making me feel horrible for not doing what they wanted me to do. My Mama was one that used guilt to get me to do things. My Daddy used rage and scare tactics. I loved both my parents and still love them both even though they are now in heaven, but it was not an easy time growing up with them.

However, I can also remember all the loving moments and it is really difficult when those are remembered because that's the feeling that I want again and I don't have. I don't have the loving feeling of when I was little and it was Christmas time. How we would gather in the living room. Daddy would have Briana and I take turns choosing Christmas records we'd play on the record player and at times he would tell us that he wanted to choose a record and we'd listen to Christmas songs. My Mama would come out with homemade eggnog (a simple recipe, not the complicated stuff - and of course, no alcohol in it for me, anyway) and some of the more modern stollen. We'd unwrap gifts. When I was really little, a lot of them were toys. As I got older, they would be more practical gifts, but I still loved them.

I thought I would get married and have kids, my parents would be loving grandparents, spoiling their grandkids. Yet, nope. My Daddy had his left leg removed below the knee in the summer of 2002. I graduated from college in 2004. I looked for jobs so many places, but nobody offered jobs. I tried to get into journalism (but I really didn't want to have to write obituaries and I don't know sports). I tried to get into Youth Ministry. I had tons of interviews, but nobody hired me. I think I finally got to the root of things because one place finally just told me, "You're too nice." They didn't think I'd be able to handle the pressure from people who didn't want Youth Ministry happening. The youth LOVED me. The pastor LOVED me. They loved me so much that they sent me home before I even got to teach Sunday School because they didn't want to fall in love with what I did even more. They literally told me all of this. I'm not making it up.

Then, Briana and I had to take care of our Daddy more as he would get worse at times. We thought he was just normally sick one weekend and he liked to be left alone when he was sick, so we left him alone to get better like we usually would. Well, come that Monday night and he was vomiting even water. I didn't know what to do and he didn't want me to call 911 without first calling the doctor and I wasn't thinking that I just should call 911. I called the doctor's number, but of course, it was the answering service. Briana tried to call 911, but he would really let her. I went outside to pull the van around to the front of the house so it was there. I didn't see everything that was going on inside. I was trying to do what needed to be done.

Briana told me that Daddy was arguing with her and with Mama as they tried to help him get dressed and get ready. They finally got him out to the van and he kept complaining about the direction Mama was driving to get the hospital, but that didn't make sense as she was going to the hospital. Anyway, we got him in the ER and he was saying that he was thirsty, but they kept saying that he shouldn't have anything to drink yet. When he got back into the ER, he was even joking with the nurses. I thought it was going to all be okay. I thought it would be another case of his blood sugar being too high. They would treat it. We'd be back home and I'd be fine.

He "fell" back as much as he could already being down and we heard on of the nurses yell, "Fuck!" (So, when you see that in a medical drama, it's quite true - they do yell obscenities when somebody has a heart attack or something bad happens. That's understandable, though!) A doctor came out and told me (and my family) that things were going to be okay. I had a friend who came and sat with me at that time (but she's since moved away from the area). She and I joked about how so many guys don't take care of their health. We were thinking it was all going to be fine.

However, while I was talking with her, the doctor came out and said that it was a good thing I had a friend because I was going to need one. That was an hour or less from when she told me that things were going to be okay.

I know my Daddy loved me. And I don't know if I feel better about him because I was there in the ER even though I wasn't with him or because I kissed his body (but that cold of death was horrible and I hated that feeling). Or maybe it's because he told me when I was young, "Nothing can be done about a heart attack." He told me this when my Great Uncle Elmer passed away. He had just been taking a walk and he never came back. They found him and the doctors ruled that he had a heart attack while he was walking.

I know my Mama loved me, too. After Daddy passed away, Mama, Briana, and I all went into buying a house together. We had a place to live. We still live in that house. It's now mine and Briana's.

However, my Mama was declining so quickly. For a few years, it was okay. Briana tried to go to Texas Lutheran University (TLU) in Seguin, Texas. It didn't work out for her, though. I wanted her to be able to get an education, but I am glad she is with me now. I'm glad she hasn't moved elsewhere because I absolutely hate being alone. There's something that seems to run in my family - from at least my grandpa to my Mama to me (and I think to my sister a bit, too - but I'm not certain) that freaks us out about being alone. It's more than just not liking it. It's a really horrible feeling.

I can remember the time that we were travelling and Toggle jumped into Briana's arms. My Mama was only "okay," then, but I could still enjoy times with her. She went to this neurologist, Dr. Dumitru, a bit later, and he told me that what she has was only like Asperger's. I thought that it wouldn't be so bad with knowing how Briana is. My Mama kept getting worse, though. She used to be such a great cook, but she had this idea of cooking chicken and rice in a rice cooker. That wasn't going to work. I finally got to somewhat enjoy some time with her while watching Good Luck, Charlie on the Disney Channel, but not for all that long. We watched it, but then she started becoming incoherent when I would say simple stuff to her.

There was a time when our air conditioning went out. My Mama went to grandpa to ask him for money to stay in a hotel. We did and we had Toggle, Niblet, and Woofles with us. She had forgotten her antidepressants one day and she was doing so much better. She had gotten up and she decided that she was going to take Toggle for a walk. That was amazing and I saw how much better she was without those antidepressants, but she soon started complaining that she was depressed.

There was one time at home that Dr. Primeaux had put her on Prozac as it seemed the Paxil wasn't helping her. That made her extremely violent and we had to call 911. She was wriggling all over the floor and the EMTs had to get this board they could bring into the house that would help them get her as she was even fighting this big tall guy that seemed like an oak tree. He was very tall and very muscular.

Well, my Mama got really bad. People would tell me not to write about it, but how was I to tell anybody anything? They would tell me that it was because it would embarrass my Mama. However, she wasn't healthy. I needed help. Telling me that writing about these things would embarrass her wasn't what I needed. She would dirty herself. She was incontinent - both fecally and urinely. I would be at my computer in my room and she'd start coming through to go to the bathroom (not use it, just to get to it), and she would be so dirty and stinky and she would fall on my floor and she'd sit there for two or more hours. I'd try to help her, but she wouldn't accept it. She would finally get up and she say she'd clean up her mess, but it was really Briana or I who actually cleaned up the mess most of the time.

Mama got so bad that one time she was in the bathroom and I told her that she had to clean up after herself. She said she had cleaned the bathroom when all she did was smear her fecal matter all over the walls, toilet, tub, and sink. Briana cleaned that bathroom while I did other things that needed to get done.

Her little dog, Niblet, loved her, but he was scared of her, too. He would stay with her in the house, but he refused to go with her when she insisted on driving. Of course, with her always smelling so bad, it was basically impossible for me to go anywhere without smelling bad after getting in the car. Of course, I always took showers and washed me hair, but people claimed that I didn't. I had to bring Febreeze in the car and people lied saying that instead of taking showers, my sister and I would use Febreeze on ourselves. I had to use it on my clothes, though, because the car smelled so bad that I wanted to make sure my clothes smelled okay after being in the car.

I hated not being able to bring my Mama to church when she was in the nursing home. I know how much she really wanted to go, but I couldn't handle that. I couldn't handle getting her in and out of the chair. There were some people at the church we were attending at that time that already weren't so nice to our family and were rude about how my Mama was rather than being helpful or even at least compassionate.

There were only a few people who helped like they told me they would and this was only after my Mama was in the nursing home - not when she was at home and I had people telling me that they understood people with dementia (if that's what she had, I don't know - but it seemed like that or some type of mental disease) even though people said they would help.

I was dogsitting and just house watching for somebody that I know. She just asked me to go pick up the newspapers and put mail in her house. Her dog stayed at my house, so he was always with people. It was a Sunday and her house is right down the street from a church that I attended on Sunday nights, so I'd go after the Sunday service to check on things. I was wondering where my Mama was that Sunday as I wanted to get to the service. I never did get to that service because as I was at home, I was called by the police and told that I needed to get to the person's house for whom I was dogsitting. I had to tell the police officer that I did not have a way to get there because I didn't have a car. My Mama had taken our car and that was the only car we had. The police officer came and got me from my house. I got there and was told that she had fallen and one of the neighbor's had called 911. The paramedic also told me that if she stood up, her heart might stop beating. She still asked if she should go the hospital. Of course, Briana and I told her that she should go to the hospital and I drove the car. I don't remember exactly what happened. If I went up to the hospital or back home right then. However, this started a long stay in the hospital and I was extremely worried about finances with it. She could only stay so long before insurance made her go to a nursing home if she didn't get better.

There was one time her temperature dropped so low that the nurses put a heating blanket under her. My Mama was so miserable that she didn't want the heating blanket under her. Even though the heating blanket was warm, she said that it was cold. She said she didn't want the heating blanket, but the nurses insisted that she have it.

I don't remember exactly what my Mama signed for me up in the hospital, but she signed something and one of the nurses commented on how pretty her handwriting was. However, that wasn't her handwriting. It was small and loopy and that wasn't how she wrote at all. It didn't look one bit like how she wrote. This small handwriting is a sign of brain problems. The doctors ignored everything I told them about this and other stuff I researched. I thought doctors practiced medicine and were supposed to look into stuff when concerns were brought to them, not ignore what people bring to them as legitimate concerns.

I wanted to get my Mama into the nursing home of her choice, but nobody other than that awful Lake Charles Care Facility on Ryan was taking people. I remember hating that place when I went there for high school. Residents were screaming and were in pain and people were not taking care of them. I couldn't believe how awful it seemed. When my Mama was there, it was bleak and dark and I was there more than I said I would be. One day she went up to the ER because she had fallen. She was in the hospital, but for only about a day, then back down to the nursing home.

Another time, I was told she needed to go up to the ER. I was so tired and stressed that I needed to rest, so I dropped Briana off with my Mama and I went home. I got Briana for school because I know I was at Sowela and trying to contact a friend about things with my Mama. I finally contacted the hospital and found out my Mama was in ICU by then. I had no idea that things would be so bad so quickly. I got up to the hospital and they had a BiPap on her face and IVs in her arms. The BiPap mask covered her entire face and it looked so wrong. I hated seeing my Mama like that.

While she was in the nursing home, I would constantly ask her about her health. She insisted that she wanted a DNR, that she didn't want any life saving devices, and that if she wasn't going to make it, she wanted her IVs removed. I hated making that decision. I know it's exactly what she told me she wanted and I was honoring her wishes, but it felt like I was killing her. I know I wasn't. However, it sure felt like it. It can still feel like it was my fault.

There was even an earlier time that the nurses kept trying to get me to get my Mama to get a PEG tube. I admit that I was biased and didn't want her to get one at first because I was afraid she'd do something horrible and somehow pull it out as she would pull on every tube and cord she had. One time she had even called me from the hospital and told me that she took out her catheter. I asked her why and she couldn't tell me why. She just kept telling me that she did it.

I know her death isn't my fault, but it so often feels like it. I feel awful for "letting" her die. I feel awful that I wasn't there to hear her last lucid thoughts. I was up in the ER with her. Briana and I sang songs and prayed. We talked to her. We told her that we love her. I still love her. Love doesn't stop just because a person passed away. I know that.

Even before all of this, she would make me sleep in her bedroom with her. I didn't think about it at first. I thought, "Oh, there's just so much junk in my room from trying to move into this house that this makes sense right now." I didn't realize that she was sabotaging my room so I couldn't sleep there. She wasn't abusing me sexually or physically, but basically, it was emotional abuse. She was trying to replace the role of a spouse with me. She would often say that we were best friends and I did not like that. Yes, I'd admit to her being my mother, but she was not my best friend. Honestly, that is not healthy. What she wanted was not healthy. It wasn't that she wanted something sexual, but she wanted that confidant that should be in a spouse and she tried to make me have that role. However, there were times nearing when she was going to be in the hospital that she would wake up and tell me, "I saw Daddy." I would ask her what she meant because I had "seen" Daddy, too. He would always just be waving to me and it was comforting. It was like when I was little and he would wave goodbye to me from outside the window to let me know that he'd be back from work and would see me again. However, when I would ask what she meant and even tell her that, all she would do was cry. She wouldn't tell me anything. I think, if she would have told me, that Daddy was telling her that it was time to go, I would've had much more comfort. However, I never knew what she saw.

I grieved and at one point, I seemed to have a vision of Daddy and Mama up in heaven. It seemed like a Christmas celebration. Maybe it was (why wouldn't they celebrate Christmas in heaven? It still all happened.) They seemed to be dancing and I knew that Mama was cooking something in the other room - so there must be some type of food that we cook while we're in heaven. My dog that had passed away at the end of the year that Daddy had passed away, Marbles, was running all over the place. He was extremely happy. I think the little dog that passed away less than a month before my Daddy passed away was hiding in a little kennel just liked he liked to do on earth. I asked Mama and Daddy, even though it didn't seem like speech, "Where's Cinder?" That was my Mama's dog that we had from the time I was born until sometime when I was in 8th grade. This question wouldn't have made sense at all if it was just a dream or something I was imagining. The answer that I was given (which I understood, but still didn't seem like speech, more telepathic) was that she was with Grandma and Grandpa. This answer seemed to make perfect sense. On earth, though, it wouldn't have made any sense. I barely knew Grandma.

(Grandpa passed away about a week after my Mama did, I think. I wasn't even told this by the woman he was with at the time or the lady's caretaker. At that time, we had a working house phone and the phone number was listed in the white pages and online. However, I was told by a Facebook friend who saw my Grandpa's obituary in the paper. Grandpa had always told us if something ever happened to him, to look for the green can. I have no idea what this looked like as I had never seen it. However, the lady he was with claimed that he left everything to her and that is what he wanted. I have no idea if this is true. She even got his flag for serving in the navy during WWII. The caretaker was very mean and said that she couldn't find our telephone number to let us know that he had passed. She also chided us on not visiting him when she had no idea that he wouldn't let us come into the house and she had no idea about all the stress and problems I had with my Mama. She was just mean about everything. Briana wanted to look in Grandpa's car to see if she could find any documents. Both the lady he was with and her caretaker acted extremely suspicious, but there was nothing there. I have no idea about all of this. I remember the good times with my grandpa, though, and I do miss those.

I was doing okay and then when I lost my little dog, Woofles, a bunch of grief came back. I was still able to get out and do things, but I was extremely emotional while doing them. Then there was the fact that Butterbean got hit by a car and the police officer who was there didn't even help one bit. What happened to helping and serving the public? This was at McNeese and she had slipped out of my hands and ran.

I got Radar and things started seeming better. I was going to school. I was happy.

Then summer of 2016. Briana was the victim of a hit and run. I was alone in the house for so long. I don't know why I didn't ask people to help me by visiting. That would've been what I should've done. I hated being alone. I only felt okay when I was able to go up to the hospital and visit with her. She was using a wheelchair (a big, heavy one then) to walk her dogs. A policeman came to my house and told me she was the victim of a hit and run. I was too shaken up and worried to drive, so a friend came and took me up to the hospital. Her dogs had come home and were hiding under the house. They came in when I opened the door to go wait for my friend.

The hospital would turn the entire phone system off at 8pm. I hated that because I couldn't talk to Briana at night. I wanted to be able to talk to my sister and feel okay at night. I didn't want to be feeling horrible at home. However, I got the second option.

Then, just the last few days before Briana was to get out of the hospital, I had a gallbladder attack. I went to the emergency clinic. They had me go to the hospital. A friend brought me from there to the hospital. I was given dilaudid in my IV and I think I was fine with that. I don't do well under anesthesia - I mean, I do okay, but I always feel so bad recovering from it after waking. When they removed the IV from the dilaudid, I seemed to feel fine other than being sore from the surgery. I was given some tylenol at first. I didn't know that the oxycodone I was given would have such a horrible effect on me. I was only taking half of my prescribed dosage as it was until the very last dose I took, which made me feel really awful. (Losartan, which is a medication for high blood pressure, was awful for me, too. It gave me horrible anxiety, like a buzzing from inside of my head out - kind of like the hum of a fridge and bee buzzing put together, but rather than hearing it from outside of my head, it was coming from the center of it and it made me NEVER want to be alone. I couldn't even go to the bathroom without having Briana come with me. It was THAT BAD.)

I wasn't on the stuff, but the initial withdrawal lasted a good six months. I was crying and there was no doubt that the DTs are extremely real. When those stopped, I still had horrible crying spells. I had this poky feeling all throughout my body that made me itch and that was like little needles were trying to poke out from underneath my skin.

Things got better in 2017. Briana and I even went to see the solar eclipse. We went to Nashville, Tennessee to see it. We also went to Madame Tussaud's, the Country Music Hall of Fame, and the Grand Ole Opry. I was even fine during the first half of 2018. I felt normal, even giving presentation on Theatre and Copyright law at Region 6 of KCACTF (that the Kentucky Center American College Theatre Festival).

In August 2018, it was like switch just flipped. Suddenly, I felt the crying spells and the grieving. I felt the needle trying to poke out from the skin around my heart. I also felt like there were evil spirits after me. I think that may have been. There was one night all of our dogs were on high alert and I heard scary noises and there was definitely one loud one that drove the dogs crazy, too. One of Briana's dogs was especially protective of me as well. They say dogs are more sensitive to spiritual activity.

Now, I still have all these crazy thoughts at times. It's still like with grieving, too. I start having thought like "Will we have books in heaven?" "Will I know everything that I know now?" "Will everything I've written be in heaven?" I pray to God that all of my writings and creations will be in heaven. I don't want to forget them. I'd like to know them more than I know them now, honestly. And I want my Mama and my Daddy to know that I wrote these things and to be proud of me for writing them.

I never used to have those types of thoughts when my parents were alive. I didn't think about it. I was glad to have them, even as much as I hated the things they sometimes did like using me as their go-between for complaints. If I spent time with my Mama, I'd always have to hear, "Well, your Daddy" and if I spent time with my Daddy, I'd always have to hear, "Well, your mother." Sometimes, I'd literally hear things from both of them within five minutes.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know who to turn to with this stuff. I just took it. How could I tell people I was going through this? I didn't want to make my Daddy mad because he scared me. I can remember that one time, I had to drive a car he had bought (as we needed one) home and at that time, I had no idea where I was going. I managed to follow him and get the car home, but he was angry about things when I got home and the only thing I could do was go in my room and cry because I didn't want him yelling at me for crying, which he would do. I also had to fake having to sneeze many times when he tried to teach me how to drive a standard. When we got home, I could finally go into my room and cry.

I know all of these is because of being in a dysfunctional family due to alcoholism. My Mama drank. My Daddy denied it. One time, he poured out all the alcohol from the fridge into the sink and she said she was an alcoholic in order to please us. It wasn't her truly admitting that she had a problem.

As for the antidepressants, there's so much in how I could see her decline, that I'm not even going to get into it. However I know that I don't want to be like that. I don't really like alcohol (I take communion and may cook with it) and I won't take antidepressants or anti-anxiety medications because I've seen them mess up too many of my friends and family. I also know that when I was in 10th grade and had bacterial pneumonia that the doctor tried to give me something to relax and all it did was make me jittery. Thankfully, I had no more than a day's dose. I think things would've gotten worse had I had more than that.

I have so many issues because of all this and more. I know that I do. I wish I could work through them all immediately and just get rid of everything and be the happy person that I once was. Where is that person? Why can't she be the one that is still here?

Oh, and I'm not "depressed" as in like clinically depressed. I don't want to stay in and do nothing. I want to get out and be with people and be among people. I want to talk and help others. I want to meet somebody. I want to marry the guy that God wants me to marry (whoever that may be). I hope I can still have children and want to have a family. I've read about this new treatment that is supposed to make a woman's ovaries start producing eggs again if they are not. I have no idea about mine right now . . . but I certainly hope I can have children. I definitely want them.
I <3 God, sheepie

Movie, Papermaking, and Waffles

Friday night, Briana and I went to a local church where they were showing the movie, "I Can Only Imagine." Saturday, we went to a paper making demonstration in Sulphur. Afterwards we went to one of the Waffle Houses in Sulphur to eat.

Yesterday, I ate at one of the Waffle Houses in Sulphur. It was the one n ear the Jack-in-the-Box. The one worker there was really cute. He had this blonde curly hair. I hadn't had that feeling of, "OH, that guy is so cute" in a long time.

He had a tattoo and I wasn't a fan of it, but it didn't bother me. However, what really turned me off was that I saw he had th ose huge plugs to plug holes in his ears for those large things that I think they call gauges. Or is it gages? I don't know because I'm not into those things.

I wasn't sure of his age, though. I don't know if he was in that fairly normal 10 plus or minus age range for me or not. I just miss seeing those guys that make me think, "Oh, he's so cute" and that give me a good feeling.

There was a younger guy there, too, that was just a nice kid. Well, he wasn't really a kid, but he wasn't a legal adult quite yet. He pet Radar and Niblet. He also looked like he belonged in early Hanson.

Briana showed me the picture of the album with Mmmbop on it since she could bring it up on the Jukebox (it was fully electronic) that was there. He took a picture of the album cover when he agreed that he looked like them. That was funny.

And it is thundering right now. It was extremely hot earlier today.

Oh, and I need to get my lawn cut very badly, but how is one going to do that when it is always either really hot or raining, so people aren't mowing lawns?
I <3 God, sheepie

I've been feeling really awful lately and I don't know why

I didn't expect this to get this long. I appreciate if you read it, but I understand if you don't. I needed to write and I needed to send this to people.

I'm just looking for anybody with whom I can talk or chat. I honestly don't know what has come over me lately. I'm not as sad as I used to be. It wasn't even really me. I was this looming sadness like something was just wrong somewhere. I see that a lot of people have had to deal with deaths of family and friends and I don't like that.

I still have my faith. I believe in God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. I believe that they are love. I believe that I'm instructed to love anybody, no matter what they believe. I do think it is good for me to have other Christian friends, but also that I'm not limit myself to only Christian friends. I believe there's a lot more out there than what strict conservative Christians say. I believe in auras and God letting spirits come visit the earth. I can feel places that are much more spiritual than others. The Grand Ole Opry was extremely spiritual. I miss being able to go back stage at ACTS because that was one of the most spiritual places for me. I know that I can go to downtown Lake Charles and Reid St, but I'm still afraid of them saying that I was on their property when I wasn't.

I don't know why I feel so awful. It is difficult navigating earth without my parents. However, it's been a few months over ten years since my Daddy passed (a heart attack due to complications with diabetic ketoacidosis - he had Type 1 diabetes) and almost six years since my Mama passed. Maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe my body is remembering something with my Mama at this time that I'm forgetting. It is coming upon September 15.

I've never written this, and I know that I'm not guilty about her dying, but I can remember one time about how I was being extremely silly with her. We were playing around about the Ides of March and I kept chaning the month. We laughed about saying the Ides of September and a death or her death. I don't remember what it was exactly, but it was nowhere near serious. Fast forward to her being extremely sick and then in the hospital - and her dying on the Ides of September.

I felt really guilty, too, because I couldn't make it up there when she was sent to the emergency room. Briana tells me that she was able to talk and forgave me for anything and said that she loved me, but I was only able to make it up to the hospital when she was in the ICU. Briana and I sang songs that were meaningful to all of us to her. We held her hands and we prayed. I couldn't say up there because it was freezing cold, but it was the hardest thing to tell the doctor to take her off all of the IVs and life support. This was only according to her wishes, though. She had always told me that she never wanted to be on machines or IVs. (Let it be known that my wishes are not like hers - if I am on life support and IV do not withdraw that from me. Please keep me alive and give me time to recover. Only if it is completely certain that I will never ever recover, then, maybe, withdraw the support . . . I want to live. So, yes to resuscitation as well.)

And, honestly, ever since I was in high school, I know I've wanted to be a mother. I know there's adoption, but I've always wanted at least one biological child or my own. The way I was raised, I expected that when I graduated college, I'd soon find a boyfriend, get married, have children, and move on with life. That hasn't happened. I graduated and got my first Bachelor's in 2004. My Daddy was already having great problems while I was in college then. He worked on the campus as a Chemistry Professor. There were so many days that I would go by the Chemistry building and there would be an ambulance outside. I knew that it meant he was having to be taken to the hospital and sometimes I would drive if I had a car and other times I'd have to ride to the hospital in the ambulance up front with the driver.

I looked for jobs so many places after I graduated, but I didn't find stuff. It didn't pay that well, but I then found freelance writing jobs and I at least could pay my own bills while living with my parents. I was perfectly fine living with them and they were fine with my living with them (honestly, I don't understand why people look at it like it's so taboo - I think families living together is a beautiful thing - and very common in other cultures - and honestly, still fairly common in the south).

Then my Daddy got so bad and one night he couldn't keep any food or liquid down. I was trying to be so good and obey his orders, but also help him. He refused to let anybody call 911, so I went out and drove the van that we had to the front of the house so he could get into it. He complained about where my Mama was going to whole time which didn't make sense because she was going to the hospital. When they got him in, I was told that he would be fine. I was expecting going home again after him spending a night a or two. However, he suddenly just closed his eyes on the bed and I heard a nurse yell, "Fuck!" and then he was taken back somewhere where I couldn't go. A doctor came out and said that things were going to be fine. I called a friend and she came to the hospital. We joked around about how so many guys don't take care of their health. We talked about one of her relatives that constantly did stupid things with his health. Less than an hour later, the doctor came out and said how I would need a friend, so it was good that she was there. That night was not a good night. All I remember was being in shock and getting chicken nuggets from Wendy's and then being in a deep depression for months.

My Mama, my sister, and I decided to go in and buy a house together. My Mama, who was already "not all there' at times, as I had definitely seen her mental abilities decline (she blamed them on age, but she was only 52 when she passed away, and I know people are often brilliant way past that age), started getting worse and worse. I tried to figure out things and would go to her doctor appointments with her. I was told that it was nothing more than Asperger's syndrome and low blood pressure with her and that it wouldn't get any worse. However, it constantly got worse. The neurologist she saw, Dr. Dimitru, didn't even speak decent English and he didn't say anything helpful. Her General Practicioner wouldn't listen to me about how bad she was. He didn't want to listen to me at all. He also would adjust her paxil at any time that she wanted without consulting a neurologist or psychiatrist.

I could never cuddle with my Mama at home because she never took a bath or a shower, no matter how much my sister or I tried to help her. She was never clean and she insisted on taking the car places. I would try to clean out the car so it didn't smell bad and I didn't smell bad. It was difficult and because of her doing this, I would have to buy Febreze and spray it all over the car and all over myself. People lied and said that I didn't take showers and only used Febreze - as well as my sister. MacFarlane's pub was so stupid and rude and banned us from the pub . . .

One time, her General Practioner, Dr. Arthur Primeaux took her off Paxil and he put her on Prozac, and that made her violent. She was even fighting the huge EMT that came when we had to call an ambulance. That was scary. One day, she went to get a newspaper from the lady where I was dogsitting and picking up her mail, making sure her house was in order. I was going to go to her house that Sunday after an evening worship service because it was right down the street. My Mama later insisted I wasn't doing my job, but I had constantly done it this way, so it was the same thing. However, when she was there, she apparently fell and somebody called an ambulance. A police officer had to come get me because she had taken our car. She asked my sister and me if she should go to the hospital after the EMT told her that her blood pressure was so low that her heart would probably stop if she even stood up . . . so of course we told her that she should go. This started a long time of her in the hospital and scary times, too. She once called our grandpa saying that she was home alone. He called the police. An officer shows up at my door saying that my father called (so, of course, this is scary being my Daddy passed away) and that he had a report of me being home alone. It was worked out that my Mama was in the hospital and must have called my grandpa. It hurt seeing my Mama all shriveled up in the hospital, too. Her body temperature got so low that they had a heating blanket under her and she complained that it was cold. I tried playing a game that I would play with her - "Do you want a" and I would just name random silly things. I'd often ask if she had wanted a cyanide pill just to be completely silly and she was say that of course she didn't. However, that time, she said she did.

Now, that I am 36 years old, it feels like I will never achieve what I've wanted in life - a family, or at least children (or even one child). I know that according to many, I still have a good six years of being a "young adult." However, it just feels like with so many of my classmates having children that are already in high school or classmate that have littles, that I am not where I should be. I want that experience of loving somebody so much that I just constantly want to be there for that person. I've wanted that since I was a teenager.

I know what it seems God told me one time and what it seems another friend of mine who understand these things got, but it makes no sense because that guy is married to somebody else now. I and some others can feel her "evil vibe" even from her pictures. We refer to her as a Regina George because she does do a lot of good things and hides her nastiness from other behind that guise. We don't do anything to her, though. It's just our term among us. He's been married to her for something like four years, maybe. So, weather the guy is him or somebody else, that doesn't matter. I won't even get into all the problems I had with her, but she is the one that had me arrested for stalking and cyberstalking which never happened - and now people use that against me even if all I want is to ask people to ask a friend to contact me. Then, it seems like even if I have a boyfriend (which I've not had one since I was in college from 2000-2004, so yeah, that kinda sucks), that I can't post about liking him because of nosy people that make up rumors.

But, what I really need is a good job. That way, somehow, I can have kids . . . whatever way that God wants that to happen. It's important to me. I want to keep my family's tradition of passing down the piano and the vinyls to the child who learns and loves music (or just the child if there is only one). And you know how they say people can just feel when something is missing? I really feel like a child is missing. I feel like at least one child belongs in my life. So, if you pray, or whatever, I appreciate it.
I <3 God, sheepie

I just REALLY want to be a mother . . .

I know that I don't write here all that often now. Most people keep up with me on Facebook. However, I am still extremely glad that I have a LiveJournal. Sometimes things are just better on a journal site - even if I don't keep them private, they just don't feel right on Facebook - not even in notes.

It's mainly just called "being female," right now. I know that it's hormones and such in general, but it does bring up real wants and desires and sometimes things just suck.

For so long, I've just wanted a family of my own. When a guy was interested in me, some other girl got him to stop talking to me. I didn't even know he was interested in me, either. But, we were friends. That ended many years ago because this girl got him to marry her. They "prayed about it," but I know she has her ways of manipulation, too. I'm not gonig to say what's true and what's not . . . I just know those things and what it is from my view.

When I've liked other people that may have had a possibility, others get in the way. They lie about me and tell rumors. I don't know if there's a guy or not, but that's not even what this post is about.

I just really want a family of my own and everything seems to suck right now regarding that.

It's very cool that I'm finishing up my graduate school and getting a Master's in Theatre. What's not cool is the bias I face as somebody who has to use a transport wheelchair (and uses a service dog) due to scoliosis and has issues with flashback kind of stuff because of the perviously mentioned girl. I had that, but it got even worse after getting off of oxycodone. There are still times that I don't feel extremely normal and I hate it. I think some of the problem may have been the side effects from Losartan, too. It gave me TERRIBLE anxiety. It was like a buzzing coming from INSIDE of my head. Like, if you could place a constnatly running refrigerator in the middle of my head, the vibrations would come from the inside and go to the outside and then I'd feel them that way - all the way through. I couldn't explain the feeling, either. All I wanted to do was wave my hands around my head and say, "It feels like" and expect people to know. I lost all words to describe how it felt. It was awful and I NEVER wanted Briana to leave my side - not even when I just needed to go to the bathroom. Just Radar as my service dog wasn't enough. Stupid medicines.

Anyway, the thing is, I REALLY and DESPERATELY want to be a mother. I mean, even if this is an open adoption to where I get my child, I want to have that mother's love. I definitely don't have a decent living environment to raise a child at the moment. I don't have the budget for it, either. It could be an open adoption. It could be that a guy and I am in love and live in different households, so the child lives with him. It could be that the child is raised by the grandparent that lives in the same or a nearby town. I'll take any of those as long as I get to be a mother that sees her child.

Sure, in general, I would prefer all the tradiational stuff - falling in love, marriage, having children - but I also know that I may not be able to do things that way. I want to have a child before I am not able to have children. I know there may be hope to reversing that for women, but it's nowhere near common place practice.

So, while it is trite and not as important as praying for things like cures to cancer and people getting better from illnesses and so many other things, if you pray, could you please pray for me that this does come to fruition. This really is a huge desire of my heart and God knows the desires of our hearts.

Right now, I feel like I'm worthless without being a mother somehow. And, honestly, being that my Mama passed away back in 2012, without being a mother and without somebody that's the father of a child of mine, both mother's day and father's day suck.

Briana is my sister and not my child, so there is nothing that's really the same there. I hate that people say she is my daughter. If there were true, she'd be extremely more respectful of me. I know that much. That's just because of how I would raise a child and how my Mama raised us - making me be the responsible one and always blaming me for things while she let Briana cuddle and get away with tons of stuff.

I just really, REALLY, want to be a mother, so badly . . .
I <3 God, sheepie

Girly Health Stuff that is worrying me.

I am concerned about my health. It has to do with "girly" stuff, though. So . . .

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I did get a gynecology appointment at the SWLA Center for Health, but the first appointment that they had available was Monday, March 19 at 8:30am. I would've liked sooner, but that's all they had.

Prayers that my health is fine are definitely appreciated.