Ma Vie d'Autrefois, Ou est-ce Encore la Même ?

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Ce qu'on a fait hier


Photo de:
http://news.yahoo.com/nphotos/slideshow/photo//090429/ids_photos_wl/r3136660894.jpg/

Nous sommes contents de savoir que les parents à la cousine de Fabrice, actuellement en voyage aux US, ne faisaient pas parti du groupe qui était dans l'accident de car avant-hier.

Comme par hasard, nous avions passe la journée d’hier à travailler en tant qu'interprètes volontaires auprès des victimes de l'accident qui ne sont plus a l'hôpital. Nous avions donc rencontre 6 des victimes, et avions de nouvelles de leurs proches, dont 6 autres, ainsi que des nouvelles mais pas de noms de 5 victimes qui sont toujours à l'hôpital Nous avions aussi rencontré mais non pas demandé de noms ni rien, car cela ne nous regardent pas, le Consul adjoint. Chef de chancellerie du Consulat de France a San Francisco.

Une personne est sortie d’hôpital est rentré à l’hôtel hier soir. Nous savons que c’est un homme, mais pas plus, sauf le fait qu’il ne semble pas figurer parmi les membres des familles des autres personnes que nous avions rencontrées.

Parmi les personnes à qui ont a eu à faire figurent une dame dont le mari d'origine breton est décédé, en plus, elle voyageait avec son frère et sa belle-sœur. Son frère a trois vertèbres cervicales de casses dont une qui a été complètement détruit, et sera sans doute paralyse à partir des épaules pour le reste de sa vie, et sa belle-sœur est toujours a hôpital avec la clavicule de casse. Malheureusement pour cette pauvre dame, ils ne savent pas ou se trouve le corps de son mari, elle a été oblige d'apprendre son décès par le biais de son neveu, car ni la police ni le consulat ne le lui avait dit à elle, et son frère est hospitalise à Stanford, près de San Francisco, tandis que l'épouse de ce dernier, sa belle-soeur a la dame que nous avions rencontre est hospitalisée à Monterey, dont ils se trouvent dans deux hôpitaux séparés d'au moins deux heures de route. Je ne peux même pas imaginer la peine de cette pauvre dame, qui se conduisait avec une grâce et un calme fort impressionnants, même s’ils parviennent du choc.

Nous avions rencontre très brièvement la guide du tour, une femme qui vient du Québec. Elle a souffert d'un traumatisme crânien, étant debout, derrière le chauffeur au moment de l'accident.

Nous avions parle, et traduit pour un couple, qui se figurent dans notre journal local, se tenant la main, couches sur la route, avec le sac blanc contenant le corps d'un de leurs camarades de voyage a cote d'eux. Je n'ai pas mon scanneur, qui est reste chez ma sœur, mais je vous enverrais des photos. Ce monsieur est "chauffeur" de train en France, et a un très vif souvenir de l'accident, auquel il a fait très attention. Il semble que, contrairement a ce qu'ils disent, le car aurait percute quelque-chose en bois qui se trouvait sur le sol, ensuite le chauffeur aurait donne deux coup de volants correctifs lorsqu'il essayait de se remettre droit après avoir percute l'objet en question, et ensuite car cette manipulation les faisait rentrer dans la barrière de sécurité. Ensuite, le car aurait bascule sur son côté, et tourné sur lui-même en glissant sur 300 mètres d'autoroute. Lorsqu’il est sorti du car, ce monsieur a tout de suite constatée que la barrière de sécurité est en fait ce qui a empêché le bus de tomber sur les rails et la petite route qui passent tous sous le pont sur lequel a eu lieu l’accident.

Comme le chauffeur du car, un américain, est décédé, les autorités et les assurances comptent beaucoup sur le témoignage de personnes comme ce cher monsieur.

La plupart de la journée, Fabrice a travaillé avec les personnes mentionnées ci-dessus. Pour ma part, j’ai surtout eu à faire à deux des enfants victimes de l’accident. Ces deux charmants jeunes m’ont fortement impressionné avec leur calme, politesse, sagesse, et gentillesse pour leurs familles et amis qui étaient dans le car avec eux. Il y avait donc, un jeune-homme de 15 ans, dont la mère et le beau-père ont été tous les deux blessés. Son beau-père devait sortir d’hôpital hier soir, mais sa mère a été blessée au visage et s’était fait opérer des yeux, donc on ne savait pas du tut quand elle allait être libérée. La jeune fille à qui j’ai eu le plaisir de parler, n’avait que 15 ans, et se trouvait en voyages avec que sa mère. Cette dernière se trouvait aux soins intensifs à hôpital de San José, où elle s’est fait opérer du dos de 16H00 à 21H00 hier soir. Cette pauvre femme fait parti des personnes qui ont été projetées et en dehors du bus, et en bas du pont.

Malheureusement pour ce qui est de ces deux enfants, comme ils sont actuellement séparés de leurs parents, les autorités de l’état de Californie veulent absolument intervenir pour placer les enfants. Il semble que tout les membres du groupe, après avoir passé 15 jours de voyage ensembles en quasi-permanence, veulent rester ensemble et s’entre aider, du moins pour le moment. Heureusement pour le jeune-homme, qui est de la région de Toulon, son beau-père est sorti d’hôpital hier soir. J’ai conseillé à la jeune fille de demander à son père de venir la chercher dès aujourd’hui. Ils ne savent pas pendant combien de temps sa mère risque de rester à hôpital Elle est censée être rapatriée avant sa maman, dont samedi, mais si jamais l’état de Californie la place avant, c’était pas aussi évident de la récupérer que si son père ne vienne la chercher aujourd’hui. Nous avions eu un message d’elle lors de notre rentrée à hôtel hier soir, mais n’avons pas pu la joindre téléphoniquement. Autrement, on aurait appelé son papa en France de notre propre gré. Ce qui n’est toujours pas hors de question, car je connais son nom et ils vivent à Lille.

Nous savions par les autres, par la Croix Rouge des US, et par le Consulat, qu’il y avait deux autres jeunes dans le car. Il y avait une jeune fille, qui se trouve hospitalisée à Fresno, et sa mère, très grièvement blessée, qui se trouve, on espère à Stanford. Il y avait aussi un autre jeune homme, mais nous n’avons pas eu de nouvelles à son égard, ni à propos d’éventuelles personnes qui l’aurait accompagné. Nous savions qu’une femme pas trop blessée est toujours hospitalisée ce matin, et ne va pas du tout bien au niveau du moral. Ils étaient plusieurs à être emmenés dans cet hôpital, mais il n’y a qu’elle qui y reste. D’autres, dont le couple duquel j’ai parlé ci-dessus, vont essayer d’aller la voir aujourd’hui.

Alors voilà où ça en est. Il ne faut pas trop se fier à ce qui est raconté dans les journaux et à la télé. J’ai lu un article français qui disait que les victimes étaient transportées vers 2 hôpitaux En réalité, il s’agit d’au moins 7.

Pour ma part, je n’ai pas pu dormir hier soir, et aujourd’hui j’ai des nausées et de la diarrhée.

Je vous embrasse bien fort et je tiens à vous,
Danielle

Monday, April 27, 2009

Consider Me Cured, oh Ye of Little Faith!

I have suffered from at least depression since almost as long as I can remember. My parents, at the behest of my school, took me to a psychiatrist or psychologist when I was in second grade. I wouldn’t talk to him because I knew he would repeat whatever I said to my parents, and I was terrified of them. Although I may have had some behavioral issues, most, if not all of my depression and acting out then were direct results of both of my parents’ physical, emotional, and psychological abuse.

I have always been criticized or mocked for my problems; by my parents and their respective significant others, by my mother’s family members, by my ex-husband, by others who knew, and now, by people I truly believed would know better. Just because they don’t want to believe my problems to be genuine does not mean that they’re not. It seems certain people I believed in prefer to think that my problems aren’t real, although everyone else’s are. Would they criticize me like that if I had diabetes or needed a heart transplant? I feel the reaction I received from someone I truly thought I knew exemplifies the problem with the stigmatization of mental health issues in the United States. I thought I could talk to that person, and that that person not only knew my truth, and me but understood. I am so very sorry to have had the contrary smash me in the face. Obviously, I was wrong in my beliefs and assumptions.

How I feel and the mental health problems I have are NOT matters of a bad or “woe is me” attitude. I am dismayed that someone can be so understanding of other people, yet so critical, judgmental, and downright wrong when it comes to me.

I haven’t always made the best choices, I know. But nobody knows, yet, what all I have gone through and survived to get to where I am, even if it is nothing to other people’s eyes.

You aren’t better than me. I am not better than you. Nobody is better or worse than anyone else. Nobody is below or above other people. We are all just people. We all have faults. We all make mistakes.

Maybe if I drank or did drugs, then my mental health issues would be more real, more relevant, or more worthy; is that what I am hearing? Is that it? Since I don’t drink or do drugs, I can’t possibly have the difficulties that I do????

You know what, I should never have confided in that person, and I won’t again. I can control that much.

Similarly, my daughter will be 15 years old next week. She isn’t a baby, or a 7- or 9-year-old. I think one of my mistakes in raising my son, and in general, is not being open and honest about the things that are not right in my mind and my feelings. I have tried not to commit that same mistake with my daughter, and to stop covering up the truth, in general.

I haven’t called my daughter since Easter Sunday. She didn’t want to talk to me, anyway. I am not going to call her, because she has asked me to give her space and time. I don’t even want to talk to her right now. I didn’t want to see her during her spring break, although I did do so. She isn’t the daughter I raised anymore. She seems to have lost her compassion and her amazing ability to empathize. She is overly critical now, overly judgmental, and utterly unwilling to see things through my eyes or give me the benefit of the doubt that everyone else deserve. It’s sad to say, but right now, I simply feel that my daughter is more of a disappointment to me than her brother.

I feel certain people are telling me to shut up and pretend that there is nothing wrong. So that’s what I’ll do. Consider me cured. Those people won’t hear a negative word from me again.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

The End

This isn’t what I thought it was going to be.

Sure, I love him, but I don’t know what difference that makes anymore.

I don’t have anything left, or barely, and I don’t even know how to buy food or pay for the roof over my head. I don’t remember ever being this low.

I had a job that I loved, my daughter that I loved even more, my furnishings, etc. All I thought was missing was someone reliable and caring, without addiction issues, to share my life with.

I can’t help but feel that that was a mistake, and my decision to marry, even more so. I know, I know, it was my choice, and all choices have consequences. I just wasn’t expecting this.

Fabrice is a sweet man. He is a good man. He is trying, but doesn’t know how to do life in the US, especially not in this economic crisis. He is a good person to be with, most of the time. He was a cop in France for 20 years. Before that, he was an MP for his year of then-required military service. Before that he worked at McDonald’s and in the factories that his mother and aunt, Marie-France, worked in. He had never been without a job. He doesn’t drink. Those were my standards – I’m pretty tough to satisfy, huh?! I thought he would be the right partner for me. I thought he would help be bear the burden that his life. I thought I could count on him, and that this marriage would help me not have to do every goddamn thing in the world by myself. Once again, I was wrong.

Since we have been in the United States, at any time, while he claims to want to work, and goes to English school religiously, the effort stops there and is replaced by anger, criticism, disrespect, and hurt. It seems that he cannot do things for himself, and waits for me to do everything for him: writing his résumé in English, applying for jobs, talking to people on the phone, making sure his bills are paid, and to hell with mine or with my needs.

He received a settlement check for his motorcycle accident in September 2007. He chose to pay his mother back everything he owed her, and to hell with me, or even himself. I know, I know, that was his money, and he had every right to spend it the way he saw fit. However, he made that decision with full knowledge that doing so left “us,” or me, without money to pay for housing, or food, or for any of my bills and obligations. The same thing happened with our tax return, and I am the one who worked in the US and paid the taxes. Now, though, because of his choices, I am actually going hungry for the first time in my life, I haven’t paid a bill or even bought a new pair of socks since 2007, I was evicted, lost everything I owned, lost my daughter who couldn’t stand my depression and anxiety anymore, and now the few belongings I have left are in Minnesota, whereas I came back to him, full of misplaced hope, believing that “we” would get my things, and my animals back as soon as we started getting paid.

He came back, as he was offered a job with the City of Pacific Grove Police Department, they began his background check a month ago, and nothing has come to fruition since. He worked last weekend as a chauffeur, but won’t be paid until the 30th. What little money he will get then has been spent who knows how many times over by now.

I have a job, and have been through the training process. I have to take a test and be certified before I can start working. I would have done so yesterday, but had some connection problems. Hopefully, I will be able to take my test today. Not that there’s much of me left for hoping anymore.

I basically raised myself. I know some of you did too. But, my sisters, for example, at least always had one another. I have had to do most things on my own, and have been on my own since I was 16. I can’t do it anymore. I need to be able to take care of my depression, anxiety, and associated ailments, if I am to be expected to move forward with life. I need to be able to pay my bills, take care of my kids, and NOT HAVE TO DO EVERY F***ING THINGS ALONE ANYMORE. I need someone who, even if they don’t “take care” of me, at least is capable of alleviating the burden to an extent, instead of becoming even more of a burden than anything else.

I don’t know what to do or how to move forward. I am tired of life, tired of people, tired of trying, tired of failure, tired of going hungry (even if it is a good thing, weight-wise), tired of always, always, always taking care of other people, and putting them before myself or my own needs.

I am truly at the end of whatever rope I ever had, and I purely and simply cannot do this anymore, especially not alone.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Mother's Day is Coming Soon

She wasn’t the greatest Mom. Heck, she wasn’t even a good Mom, at least not for the first 30-some odd years of my life. But, she was the only Mom I ever will have.

Many of my friends knew my Mom. Many of my classmates knew my Mom, but didn’t know me. To them, she was always the person I finally grew to know in the last years of her life.

Others knew me and not my Mom. They know what I went through at her hands and those of my father. I was able to know my mother differently. They weren’t. At least one of my friends remained faithful to me and to my experience, and was not able to forgive my mother in her own heart. Despite my having been able to do so, I will not ever be able to tell that friend enough how much her position meant, means to me. That dear, sweet friend has a daisy tattooed on her toe. Those of you who know that, now know. Thank you, my dear friend, for remembering, for caring enough, and for being such a true and faithful friend!!! You know who you are.

Nevertheless, I am thankful to have known the later years of my mother’s life. I am glad we were able to find forgiveness. I am even happier to have gotten to know the woman so many others already knew.

No matter what, I love you, Mom!
They will come back, come back again, as long as
The red earth rolls. He never wasted a leaf or a tree.
Do you think He Would squander souls?
"The Sack of the Gods" by Rudyard Kipling - 1907

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

1967-1968

I don’t know that my parents should really ever been parents; especially not when they were; especially not with each other. As a matter of fact, beyond the basic biological parenting, my parents weren’t really parents even to the children they had. We basically raised ourselves, for better or for worse, and at least from first grade or so, on. I am willing to accept that they fed, housed, and often clothed us, before and after first grade. But their ability or willingness to do even that was variable, unreliable, and minimal, at best.

I don’t remember a whole lot from before the twins were born; just a few snippets, really. I remember being in my grandparents’ Lido Beach house. I loved that house. I remember my grandfather’s loving, albeit troubled, presence. I loved that man. That’s about all I remember from my life in New York. I moved from New York to Kansas when I was 2. I was born during the summer after my parents’ sophomore year of college. So, the summer I turned 2, they had finished undergraduate school and moved from New York to Lawrence, Kansas, to attend the University of Kansas for graduate school. We moved there in the summer of 1967.

Before the twins came into being, already, according to my parents, I was a troubled child. I cried if my mother touched me. I threw fits in restaurants. The crying thing was probably not normal. I have heard stories about my mother’s pregnancy – stories of her not wanting me, but being pressured into keeping me by my grandparents, or at least, my maternal grandfather, and my father. Given my father’s inability to love his children, or pretty much anybody, I find that difficult to believe. That said, when I was born in 1965, my father was 21. I was 21 when my oldest child was born. A person isn’t complete when he is 21. At 21, much of your physical development is complete, yes, but much of a soul’s emotional development remains to be done. So, in an attempt to give that father the same benefit of doubt that I want people to give me.

I do remember taking a running-jump into my mother’s lap. At least before she was pregnant with my sisters. Unfortunately, when I did the same thing during her pregnancy, my enthusiasm was met with barred arms and stern words. I didn’t take that well. My bad, I guess. I started resenting my sisters at that time. I wish that weren’t the case. I am sorry that is the case. But I don’t know how I can change what was, not now, 41 years later. Oh well.

Unfortunately, from that moment on, I resented the baby growing in my Momma’s belly. I wanted a brother who wouldn’t take my toys. I got twin sisters, who did. I say I resented the “baby,” because, until Monique was born, nobody knew that Michèle was on the way…

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Fabrice et sa mère

Fabrice n'a même pas envie de parler avec sa mère en ce moment, il est fâché d'elle et en a marre de sa froideur et son incompétence. Il en a marre de ne plus lui faire confiance, et d’avoir à faire à des amis quand il veut que quelque-chose soit vraiment faite et faite comme ça se doit. Alors c'est toujours à moi de me débrouiller pour tout... pour tout payer, pour tout récupérer, tout, tout, tout. C'est comme avoir un enfant. Il a peur aussi, que je le laisse tomber avec tout ce que j'ai appris au cours des 15 derniers jours à propos de lui, ses dettes, sa famille et ses mensonges.....

Des conseils?

Bonjour chers amis (sauf Aline en Nouvelle Calédonie, qui ne fera jamais partie de mes amis),

Je n'en peux plus de cette belle-mère...

Non seulement qu'elle ne nous a pas expédié notre courrier depuis 2 ou 3 mois, mais elle refuse de nous faire parvenir les papiers médicaux de Fabrice. Et, même si elle ne peut pas se souvenir, il les lui a demandé au début du mois de janvier, et plusieurs fois depuis.

Voici le gentil message duquel elle m'a fait cadeau ce matin:
"Bonjour non ça n'inclus pas les papiers médicaux vous ne nous les avez pas demandé et vous savez le poids de ses papiers et je ne suis pas ton employer d'accord merci"
Je vous jure, je n'en peux plus, et je ne sais plus que faire. Elle me rend malade cette femme froide, méchante, rancunière, etc.

Le pauvre Fabrice n’a jamais été gâté avec sa mère. Non seulement que cette dernière a toujours fait de différences entre ses enfants, mais elle continue avec ses petits-enfants. Ce n’est ni juste, ni normal de se comporter ainsi avec sa chair et son sang.

Avez-vous des conseils?

Saturday, April 18, 2009

"I Dreamed a Dream" Lyrics

There was a time when men were kind,
And their voices were soft,
And their words inviting.
There was a time when love was blind,
And the world was a song,
And the song was exciting.
There was a time when it all went wrong...

I dreamed a dream in time gone by,
When hope was high and life, worth living.
I dreamed that love would never die,
I dreamed that God would be forgiving.
Then I was young and unafraid,
And dreams were made and used and wasted.
There was no ransom to be paid,
No song unsung, no wine, untasted.

But the tigers come at night,
With their voices soft as thunder,
As they tear your hope apart,
And they turn your dream to shame.

He slept a summer by my side,
He filled my days with endless wonder...
He took my childhood in his stride,
But he was gone when autumn came!

And still I dream he'll come to me,
That we will live the years together,
But there are dreams that cannot be,
And there are storms we cannot weather!

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living,
So different now from what it seemed...
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed...

Am I a Geek, or What?

Some of you know this.

I just found myself watching "The Electric Company" on KTEH. At least, I am pretty sure it's "The Electric Company."

I always loved "The Electric Company." I remember, when I was in first grade... We had just moved to Northfield over the summer between Kindergarten and first grade. My Dad had started teaching at Saint Olaf. I don't believe my Mom had started teaching at Carleton, yet, but think she had started working at Visitation in Mendota Heights. Not that that has anything to do with "The Electric Company." My Dad would bring me home stacks of discarded mimeograph handouts and worksheets from St. Olaf. I probably was already a tad bit OCD. Nowadays, I am a compulsive note-taker. I become unsettled and uncomfortable without a legal pad and a pen. I don't like pencils, they're too messy. I think that compulsion started in at least first grade. I distinctly remember sitting on the floor of our living room, in what is now the French House at St. Olaf, watching Captain Kangaroo, Mister Rogers, Sesame Street, The Electric Company, and another show about a train engineer... I had the hugest crush on Mr. Rogers. I think he was my third crush. The first was probably Stevie Dineen, the second, Dylan Free. Although Dylan may have preceded Stevie, I am not sure. I was 3 or 4 at the time, after all. Anyway, I remember sitting there, braids in my hair, taking notes on what I was watching, and "The Electric Company," in particular. Now, my notes are in outline form, and color-coded. Then, I divided my page into columns and squares - so it's no wonder I love creating spreadsheets!

Anyway, I'm rambling. Let's just say I was completely thrilled to stumble across "The Electric Company" in my channel surfing this morning.

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Friday, April 17, 2009

Nature's Black & White


Nature's Black & White
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Lakeville, Minnesota Birds (MINNirds)

Lakeville, Minnesota Birds (MINNirds)

Lakeville, Minnesota Birds (MINNirds)

Snow Robin


Snow Robin
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 3 - Fabrice et Danielle Devant le Barrage Hoover

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Las Vegas

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Las Vegas

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Las Vegas 2

Valley Homes


Valley Homes
Originally uploaded by Nana S

WANTED for the Murder of Valentyna Kram: JAIME ALBARRAN

For Sale 2


For Sale 2
Originally uploaded by Nana S

For Sale 1


For Sale 1
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Open Range

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Morgie


Morgie
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Morgan


Morgan
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Miss Kitty


Miss Kitty
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Chanel on "Her" Couch


Chanel on "Her" Couch
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Miss Morgan Grace


Miss Morgan Grace
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Morgan


Morgan
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Chanel Enjoying the Sun 3


Chanel Enjoying the Sun 3
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Isabelle on Taco Night


Isabelle on Taco Night
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Chanel on Taco Night


Chanel on Taco Night
Originally uploaded by Nana S

Taco Night at my Sister and Brother-in-Law's House 2

Taco Night at my Sister and Brother-in-Law's House

Windows and Doors / Portes et fenêtres

Good morning, everyone; bonjour tout le monde,

Here is a link to my flickr photo album of windows and doors. Whether they be in buildings, vehicles, vessels, or alone on the ground; whether they be the subject of the photo, or simply in the background of a picture of something else, I wanted to share my (mostly my) pictures of windows and doors with you all.

Voici un lien pour accéder à mon album photos sur flickr qui contient mes (surtout mes) photos de portes et fenêtres. Qu’elles soient le sujet de la photo ou tout simplement derrière une image d’autre chose ; qu’elles fassent partie de bâtiments, de véhicules, de bateau ou seule, par-terre, je tiens à les partager avec vous.

Gros bisous à vous tous ; love to you all,
Danielle/Mom

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dapmapmgmp/sets/72157603269874386/

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Three-Color Morgan

Susan Boyle

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk

Memory Lapses

I don’t remember a lot of things. The more time goes by, especially lately, the less I remember. Most of my childhood is a blur. Although I think that may be the case for a lot of people, if not most. Now, though, it seems that I can no longer remember last month, or last week, or yesterday. I am not convinced that is normal. Though, in its own way, it’s a blessing.


Sometimes this memory trouble causes problems. I don’t remember saying certain things, or doing others. Usually these memory lapses are no big deal. I mean, who cares, really, if I can’t remember discussing my sister’s invisible fence with her, and I repeat what I said about it last week? Interestingly, I didn’t even remember looking at the invisible fence, and even less, speaking of it with my sister. So, I repeated what I’d said the first time, and was satisfied at my “contribution” towards her solving her problem with the said fence.


Other times, though, my memory lapses of late are more troubling. This is best exemplified by my accidental overdose of medication a few weeks ago.


I was sleeping poorly, so I would take Benedryl to help me sleep. But one night, when I was alone, I took the maximum does possible of Benedryl for my weight, then forgot that I had done so, and took a second, maximum dose. When I felt my eyes getting overly dry, I realized what I must have done, made myself throw-up, and forced myself to stay awake for the 4 hours that Benedryl remains in your system.


I have been overly cautious, especially when it comes to medication, since then.

Getting Ready

I have decided to write a story, or a series of stories.

In case you're wondering about what has led to this, these blog posts will help clarify some of my journey. Enjoy!
Of course, other posts also provided background information, but I thought this particular sampling might be of value. I hope so.

P.S.

P.S.
Please, do not get me wrong. I am already a huge proponent of animal rights, children's rights, and the environment. I simply believe it vital to take care of the people at home even before going to other countries and helping the people there. Not that one group is more important or more worthy than the other. It is simply a matter of practicality and justice, in a way. Everyone and his brother is interested in helping the poor in Africa, but how often do you see groups helping out the people here at home outside of natural (or man-made) disasters?

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

My Three New Goals

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. My ex-husband's family and the non-profit they started do quite a bit of work with the poor and hungry in the West Indies. We all know of other groups that help people around the world. It seems to me, though, that there are not enough groups helping out here at home. I am interested in advocating and/or working with/for certain causes:

1. The poor/hungry/homeless here in the United States;
2. Immigrants to the United States;
3. The mentally ill.

Any ideas/insights/advice you may have would be most welcome!!!

Thanks and Apologies

Thank you, friends and strangers, for all of your help, support, encouragement and friendship. Not all people are lucky enough to know people as kind-hearted and generous as you!

I am down with a bad back for a couple of days. Ever since that cow jumped on me in late 1985/early 1986, I have had recurring back troubles. Carrying that heavy luggage on Sunday did me in. I missed the flight from Phoenix, and had to fly to San Jose, and take a shuttle. Fortunately for me, the bags flew to their true destination, and Fabrice was able to pick them up prior to my arrival. I slept relatively well, despite the back pain, and am putting things away and settling in now. I have to stop every couple of whiles, though, because of the back pain. I don't want to take any medication, because with the memory problems I have been having, I would not want to accidentally overdose, again.

I am sorry so many things were left behind. I shouldn't have run out of time the way I did. Please know that I did my best.

Fabrice will be going back to MN in about ten days to rent a car and drive the critters and all of our remaining belongings back here. Then, he'll drive back to MN, and fly back out here. We'll need someone who's willing to go with him to the rental car place, like before.

I am going in to the hospital in the next few days. Hopefully, I will only need to be there for 72 hours or so. After that, I am returning to see the therapist I was seeing when I lived here before. I am also attending group therapy and a day treatment program. I hope and pray that I do not go the way of my maternal greatgrandmother, Grace, my cousin, or my paternal grandmother.

But there is something seriously wrong with my thinking, my self-esteem has been obliterated, and I am having many disturbing memory lapses. My depression, anxiety, panic attacks, etc., have come to take over my entire existence, and I feel so hopeless, shameful, disgraceful, and worthless, that I do not even look at myself in the mirror anymore.

Fabricee is working this Friday and Saturday, and we are still waiting on his police department background check, fingerprinting, and polygraph, and then he will start in his employment with the City of Pacific Grove Police Department. He also has an interview with a university police department next week.

I just hope and pray that I can get my overwhelming mental health problems under control, and soon, and that I am able to spend some quality time with my precious daughter and Fabrice's beautiful girls this summer. I also hope that the judges in Wisconsin are not stupid, understand the economic issues and mental health issues I am trying to deal with, and don't expect me to pay unreasonable and unrealistic amounts as child support when I don't even have enough money pay my current day-to-day expenses. I got an offset from my ex-husband's taxes, but that still leaves him owing me over $20,000 in child support arrearages AND INTEREST (the interest is more than the arrearages after all these years.)

Otherwise, if John or Morgan asks about me, you can answer their questions. Or any that Peggy may have. But, because of Christine's bad-mouthing, judging and criticising me to my daughter, because of Morgan's lying about it until I showed her proof, and because my life is none of her business even if she is keeping my daughter from me, I will not speak to Christine Daniels, will not email or write to her, and will not respond to any of her communications. Similarly, I believe Chuck MacCarthy to be a judgmental hypocrite, and prefer not to communicate with him. I do not like John, but he is my daughter's father; I do like Peggy, and only feel sorry that she is in the position she is. As far as you all are concerned, I ask only that you relay my sentiment to Christine Daniels and/or chuck MacCarthy, should the need arise, and that you ask that she/he allow you to remain uninvolved in the horrible ordeal that John and Christine are tormenting me with. Thank you.

I hope you all are well. I am sorry for being such a failure.

It's hard to do most everything yourself for pretty much your entire adult life, to have your children turn their backs on you, and to try to live in constant shame, despair, and physical and mental anguish.

I am SO very tired of trying, I can't even imagine tomorrow, much less, next week. Hopefully, I have hit rock bottom, as I do not know that I could survive any more.

Know that I am doing the best I can. Right now, though, I am simply trying to stay out of a homeless shelter until some income starts making its way to our pockets.

I am going to try my hardest to give Fabrice, my marriage, my children, my in-laws, and even myself another chance. Everybody deserves forgiveness and second chances, doncha' know?!

I love you all very much, and I miss you far more than I ever thought possible. I miss my children so much, it physically hurts. I miss Mom. Heck, I miss Dad!!! I miss my nieces. I miss the dogs; and, I even miss those darn felines!!! I can't tell you how much I am tired of depression and anxiety, tired of being in physical pain, tired of dealing with loss and despair, and tired of always, always, always having to work so hard to believe I deserve what everyone else does.

I hope that you will be able to come out and visit me very soon.

Thank you.

What if This Were the Last Year of Your Life?

My flickr and blogging friend, Deborah, is battling breast cancer right now. You can read about her journey in San Francisco Magazine, on flickr, and on her blog.

In a recent post, Deborah spoke of potential metastases (is that how that's spelled?). Fortunately for all of us, she does not have to face that particular hurdle right now. However, when she wasn't sure, she discussed her bucket list, and how she wanted to live the last year of her life.

That concept truly touched me, between my mother's passing, just 3 and a half very short years ago, and my own demons, I got to thinking. I thought about a lot of things. But mostly, I thought about what I would want to have done and how I would want to have lived the last year of *my* life. Sadly, I knew that I hadn't been living the way I would like to be. Were I to die tomorrow, I would have regrets, and I most certainly would not want *this* to be the last year of my life.

Food for thought, huh?

How do you want to live the last year of your life? Are you living that way now? For we, thankfully, cannot know, or most of us can't, anyway, when that last year is going to be.

So, if nothing else, I have decided to try to live the rest of my life like the last year of my life.

Like Tim McGraw's song says, "live like you were dying!"

He said I was in my early forties, with a lot of life before me
And one moment came that stopped me on a dime
I spent most of the next days, looking at the x-rays
Talking bout' the options and talking bout' sweet times.
I asked him when it sank in, that this might really be the real end
How's it hit 'cha when you get that kind of news?
Man what did ya do?
He said

I went skydiving
I went rocky mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denyin'
And he said some day I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin'

He said I was finally the husband, that most the time I wasn't
And I became a friend, a friend would like to have
And all of a sudden goin' fishin, wasn't such an imposition
And I went three times that year I lost my dad
Well I finally read the good book, and I took a good long hard look
At what I'd do if I could do it all again
And then

I went skydiving
I went rocky mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Shu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denyin'
And he said some day I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin'

Like tomorrow was the end
And ya got eternity to think about what to do with it
What should you do with it
What can I do with it
What would I do with it

I went rocky mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu
And man I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I watched an eagle as it was flyin'
And he said some day I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin'

Noah 1


Noah 1
Originally uploaded by Nana S
This gorgeous young man sat next to me on the plane this past Sunday.
Kids like this make me wish I could have more! LOL

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Morgan's Art002


Morgan's Art002
Mise en ligne par Nana S

Morgan's Art001


Morgan's Art001
Mise en ligne par Nana S

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA - Padre Crowley Point 6

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA - Padre Crowley Point 2

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Death Valley, CA -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Ghost Town of Darwin, California -

Pictorial Travel Diary - Day 2 - Ghost Town of Darwin, California -

Sunday, April 05, 2009

Snow Robin


Snow Robin
Originally uploaded by Nana S