Ramblings of a Single Mom

[Gypsy]

Taking stock, and taking heart

Why is it that I keep getting perturbed at my friends? I don't think it's really my friends I'm annoyed with. I think it's the fact that I'm not on the same wavelength as they are, just recently. Not horribly off, not to the point that we're really fighting or anything. No, not that bad. Just enough to cause irritation on both sides.

I sense a disturbance in the Force. And it's making me cranky.



I'm planning to finish the proofreading/editing/whatever it should be called that I started, maybe today. Maybe by Sunday. Depends on how long I can tolerate this craptastic chair and my stupid hip being crankier than the rest of me.

I had to have the slave cylinder replaced in my car in October. It has to be replaced again. When the slave cylinder fails, the clutch doesn't fully release, or just plain doesn't release at all. This makes it extremely difficult to drive the car. The part is under warranty, and can be replaced without cost - but the other day when I had three guys standing around with nothing to do and willing to work on it, the part wasn't in stock. It had to be ordered, to come in the next morning. Frustratingly enough, ever since I ordered the part my shade tree mechanics have had workload up the wazoo, and haven't been able to help me.

Since the clutch is doing what it is, instead of throwing the car into neutral when I see I'm coming up on a red light, and coasting the rest of the way to a stop, I have to hold the clutch down. The car only wants to go into first gear under three conditions: Be rolling at about a half a mile an hour; be shut off, put into gear, then started again; or forced in and ground horribly. Second gear is nearly as bad, and reverse can be a bitch to achieve if the car's running, too.

All this forces me to hold the clutch down considerably longer than I normally do. My normal use of the clutch has frequently thrown my lower back out of kilter, and made my hip hurt, especially on days I drive around a lot. Now it's bad enough that I can't really put my weight on my left leg. It's a temporary thing, and will ease when the car is fixed again. In the meantime, though, my car is literally causing me physical pain.

I miss my Dynasty. More than anyone can imagine.


In other news, my sister was served with divorce papers last week. I saw it coming, of course, and I know that what has gone wrong in that marriage cannot be fixed. Still, it breaks my heart, and shocks me. I know how much love existed between them. I know how much of it remains. And yet, the obstacles can only be surmounted if both do what's necessary - one alone cannot do it. My heart breaks for them.

I look around at my life, and the lives of the people I care about, and see how much has changed in the past year. Some of it saddens me, some cheers my heart, and some just worries me.

I thought I was in rough financial waters last year this time, and I was. But it's harder now than before - and last year was harder than the year before that. And yet all the things that aren't about money, in my life, are better. Ironic. Even more so, an influx of enough cash could not only fix my financial concerns at this point, but could make the other factors of my life even better than they already are. Money can't buy you happiness, but it sure does make life easier and less stressful.

Dunsany made a comment in an email to me last night that got me thinking, again. I spent a little while this morning doing a bit of nosing around the internet, looking for information about copywriters and copy editors. I'm wondering if maybe that's a direction I should head in. It would require the proper education in order to get the job, of course - but if I succeeded in getting the diploma and the job, not only could I be doing something I absolutely love doing, I could potentially be able to work from home on a freelance basis. To be able to earn a living doing something I love, and still be able to be home with my kids... it'd be a dream come true. I just don't know how much I could expect to earn, so I have no idea (yet) if it's enough to support a family of three. I especially don't know yet if it'd be possible to get a job in the field in my current geography. I'm going after full custody of my kids, with the added hope of being able to move away. But that hasn't happened as yet, and isn't guaranteed. Plus, do my kids really want to be uprooted? Would they fight me every step of the way, every day of our lives, if I forced it on them? The future holds those answers, today does not. But it's something to think about.




I've become incredibly spoiled by the unseasonably warm weather we've been having this year, and keep finding myself shocked when I open the door to find cold air on the other side. Brrr. I guess it's time to find the cover for the air conditioner, double check that all the storm windows are closed, and try (again) to set aside a little bit of money to buy us a humidifier. All three of us suffer horribly all winter long, because I don't own one. Our sinuses dry out within minutes of turning the heat on. Harley suffers nosebleeds, we all three get headaches, sore throats and sinus infections, and fall prey to strep throat easily. A cool mist humidifier would abate those miseries, at least in part. Unfortunately, every time I stash enough cash to buy a decent one, something more urgently needed breaks. Usually the car.

I have an appointment with Community Action on Monday. I'll be applying for Energy Assistance, asking them to help place me in a job, and finding out when the next tribunal meets at the community college. Time to get back on track with my plans to go back to school, or I won't be prepared when the time comes. And I need a job with the right schedule that won't kill my carpal tunnel - maybe they can help me with that.

I talked to my DFS caseworker earlier this week, and since I told her that my chiro expects to release me on the 17th, she changed my status in the system. I expect to hear from the hoop holders any day now, and given a list of hoops I must jump through for my $290 a month. Sigh.

On the upside of this, it's possible they may help me with car repair bills or needed clothing to go back to work. Which would help, since not only does the slave cylinder need replacing again, but my driver side window is not working. Manual crank windows aren't supposed to fail, damnit. But it's either slipped off the regulator, or something inside has broken. If it only slipped, it'll be a minimum of $32 labor to fix. And if something is broken, I'll have to buy a part, too. God only knows what it's going to cost me, but it has to be done. The window is currently most of the way up, with a wedge of wood holding it in place - but most of the way up is not all the way up. And it's the rainy season. I got in my car yesterday to pick my daughter up from the bus stop since it was pouring out, and when I got back out, my ass was soaked. Even worse, there was huge brown areas, where general dirt/dust/whatever from the seat had been handily soaked up by my jeans. It looked like I'd shit my pants. That ought to look real enticing to anyone taking my application, yes? I hope like hell it's not a permanent stain.

Oh. And did I ever mention that I'm down to two pair of jeans that aren't ripped? One pair (the pair I mopped my car seat with) is not only uncomfortable, but makes me look twenty pounds heavier, due to the way they're made. Mom gave them to me, I wouldn't have bought them. The other pair are the only hiphuggers I own, and I don't want to wear them out. However, they're the only comfy pair I still have that are fit to be seen in public, and I wear them almost every day. I know their days are numbered.

But thank God, I'm not out of coffee. We have a roof, running water, lights, heat, and food. We aren't quite naked yet. We have good friends. Though they may not be able to help us financially, they're still our friends, still honestly care about us while we're struggling. We're going to be just fine. I just need to get back to work, and we'll be alright.

In the meantime, we may be poor as hell, but we're basically happy. We aren't perfect, but there is so much love and laughter in this house... and we know enough to not only appreciate it, but honor it.

All the money in the world can't buy that.

 

[Gypsy]

Make it go away.

Sugar-Snit, I forbid you to beat yourself up. I absolutely forbid it.


It's nearly bedtime, and I'm still pondering the very odd dream I had last night. I had all day long to look up the symbolism in my dreamer's dictionary, and yet I never did. I wonder why. Maybe I'm afraid of what it'll say. This dream gave me a very, very bad feeling inside. Ominous. It had the flavor of prophecy, and if it's prophetic, I don't want it. I really, really do not.

I'm trying to focus on tomorrow being a good day of good news. I'm hoping that things will go smoothly at Community Action, regarding my getting placed in some kind of decent job. More importantly, I'm champing at the bit to get back in gear toward school goals. I've been pretty disheartened by what information I've been able to dig up about getting into freelance copy editing, but I'm telling myself I shouldn't let that determine my decision. Maybe by the time I finished school, have the degree and am ready to go to work in the field, my life situation will have changed. Maybe by then, moving will be a much bigger option.

I've been proofreading this book because I enjoy it. I used to be the one that almost every single classmate came to for proofreading of essays and book reports, in school. Even the few weeks of college that I managed to get to before the Ex forced me out, it happened.

I was writing my little fingers off on the first draft of my assignment out in the break area, when one of the guys from my class sat down at my table. He said I looked like I was just about to shout Eureka, I was scribbling so fast. I laughed, and told him I was just trying to get the basics down before my brain forgot anything I wanted to say. I tossed the first page at him, and asked him to proofread it, feel free to make any constructive comments at all. So, he did. And for the most part, I took his comments and used them. After all, the first rough draft is extremely rough, and he was mostly right.

An hour later, he was back. Handing me his own rough draft, he asked me to return the favor. Naturally, I did. He argued with me on a point or two, got downright pissed about one piece of advice I gave, but he used most of my suggestions.

When he got his graded paper back, it turned out that the things he got points taken off for were the very things I'd suggested, but that he'd refused to change. Word got around.

Anyway.

The longer I work on this book, the more I realize that the idea of doing this for a living honestly appeals to me. It would be really cool to be able to do this and get paid for it. Who doesn't want to get paid for doing something they enjoy?

So, the more I think about the possibility of going after a degree in Journalism, the more right it feels. I've tanked the idea in the past, more times than I can count, because I DON'T want to be a news reporter, and don't feel like I have what it takes to write a book. But a smart man pointed out something obvious to me, a few days ago. There are other jobs, and other fields, in journalism.

Anyway. I know I'm rambling, well aware of it. Sometimes my brain has to slowly sneak up on what it's hiding from me, before it'll let me see what's been brewing. I guess it figures it's the best way to keep me from running away from it.

I spent an entire weekend alone. Both the kids opted to spend the night with friends or family on Friday night, which was fine. I kind of enjoyed being able to concentrate on what I was doing at the computer, for a switch. It was nice to not have the tv channel constantly being changed. But then both kids called Saturday and asked to stay another night. There was no reason to make them come home, so I told them both yes. And then I stared at the dog, and wondered what in the hell I was going to do with myself for another 24 hours.

The house was too quiet. I don't know how many times I caught myself turning the tv down so I wouldn't disturb sleeping children that weren't here. I refused to cook for one, and was sick of the leftovers, so I barely ate. I left the house all of once yesterday, and that was to buy a pack of smokes. I didn't want to go anywhere, do anything, or see anyone. If I'd had money to spare in my pocket, I might have gone out, though. I ended up doing a bit of laundry, a bit of cleaning, watched a little tv, and kept up an ongoing conversation with my mother via email while I worked on the book.

And then I fell asleep sitting up in my recliner, which was really smart, lemme tell you. I woke up at 6:30 or so, freezing and in extreme pain. Oddly enough, my knees hurt more than anything else. I couldn't believe how much my stupid knees hurt, it was awful. I expected my neck or back to hurt, but my knees? I got up, turned off the tv and the light, and went to bed. I was so cold that I put my head under the covers so my breath could warm the sheets. I couldn't figure out why I wasn't warming up, especially since I'd crawled into bed still wearing my socks and sweat pants. I put my hand in front of my face to feel my warm breath, but my breath was cold.

My breath was COLD. That startled me enough that I pinched myself, to see if I was awake and alive. For the hour it took me to fall back to sleep, I shivered under my quilt, feeling like a block of ice - and all the while I kept trying to figure out why my knees hurt and my breath was cold. I never did come up with a reasonable answer, but that's probably because I was only half awake.

I finally woke again around 9:30 or so, and my first thought was that I was extremely glad - relieved, even - to feel warm again. And my GOD, that's a creepy dream I just had. I am seriously not used to having guns pointed at me, not even in nightmares. And the bastard standing on top of that... whateveritwas... was going to shoot me if I took my daughter out of there. And I was covered in hair. Every inch of my body had enough hair for twelve inch braids. I didn't have all that hair when I got there, in the dream. It just... appeared.

There is so much more to this dream, so much that happened that creeps me out and doesn't make sense. I guess I'd better go look it up, after all. I can't forget it, and I'm the one who almost always forgets what she dreams before even waking up. It's like there's a little voice whispering in my ear, telling me to pay attention, because I need to know.

It's freaking me out.

 

[Gypsy]

I am a terrible mother.

I looked up a lot of the symbols in that awful dream. Some pointed to the stark reality of some feelings I typically try to keep buried. Some were ominous and yes, had a nasty prophetic feel. Prophetic in the sense that I see where certain aspects of my life are heading, I just don't want to face it. So, yeah.

And that's all I'm saying about that. The rest of it is too personal. I wish I were free to write it all out here, I know I'd feel better if I could.

My daughter had her first jazz band concert tonight, at the fine arts center of the community college. The two different jazz bands of jr. high (why in the hell are there two? I don't get that...) played, as did the college band, the high school band, and the clinician band. Shockingly enough, the college band sucked ass, my daughter's band kicked their jazz ASS. And no, I'm not just saying that. What makes it even more surprising to me is the fact that not only are these kids only in the 3rd month of their second year of band, period, but more than three-fourths of them are playing their second instrument. Meaning, they've only been playing these particular instruments for three months. And yet, they were tighter than the college folks? Baffling.

The high school band played their three pieces, the 3rd being "Brickhouse". Perfectly. And it was obvious they were all enjoying it - they weren't just playing an assigned piece, they were JAMMING. The sax soloists got standing o's. The two sax soloists and one trumpet soloist were SO good, I couldn't leave the building until I'd personally told them how fucking awesome they were. The girl playing alto sax looked so much like Tracy Chapman I did a double take. It was great.

And my little girl had two solos of her own. Oh my god, I wish you could have heard her. She was GREAT. And I don't just mean in that mommy *she was really good for an 8th grader, and of course she was good, she's my kid* way. I mean she played perfectly. I mean that when she walked away from the mic, forty kids jumped up from their seats and yelled as they applauded. She's good, she's really really good. I was worried she'd fumble because she was so nervous, but she didn't. She even looked cool and relaxed up there, like she was just kickin with her friends. I'm so proud of her. So proud.

But immediately afterward, her mood was extremely foul. To the point that I wasn't just concerned, I was getting pissed off. She was angry, her tone was hateful, and fire flashed in her eyes - yet when I asked her what was wrong, she just kept saying "nothing Mom!" like I had BALLS to even ask her. It wasn't until we were alone in the car that she came clean.

Her father wasn't there. Her first real performance, her first solo, and her father wasn't there. No dad, no brothers, no sister, no grandparents. Not even her boyfriend showed up. Just Mom.

I felt like chopped liver. My feelings were hurt, but I understood her pain. She wanted her whole family to be there, wanted them to WANT to be there to cheer for her, see her perform, be proud of her. It was a big night for her, and no one came. No one except Mom.

I know she doesn't realize how her words cut me, or why. She doesn't realize that she just made me feel taken for granted, useless and worthless in the big scheme of her life. To her, no one came. I don't count, I'm just the taxi driver.

I bought her dinner at Taco Bell to celebrate her wonderfulness, even though I *so* do not have the money for that. I'm now down to four dollars to my name, but it was worth it, right? Except that even that couldn't console her, because they screwed up her order. They gave her two hard shell tacos instead of the nachos she requested. Taco Bell is on the far north end of town, and we live on south side. No way was I going back for the nachos. Sorry kid. Can't afford the gas money for that, and besides, it's already an hour past bedtime, and you still have homework.

Which of course only proved I'm just a pain in the ass rulemaker with no heart. I'm just Mom.

And yeah, I'm feeling sorry for myself, I'm crying about it, right here and right now. That's what this journal is for. Tomorrow this will never have bothered me. I can't tell her she tore a piece out of my heart over this, my god. She's hurting a lot more than I am, and I know it.

The holidays are coming. She's just had a birthday and halloween roll by with no father's presence. Thanksgiving and Christmas are around the corner. She wants to be with me, wants her dad to stay away unless and until he gets his shit together and gets clean and sober for good. But she knows she's suffered a loss, and she knows it isn't fair.

To make things even better, this is our poorest financial year since the year I left her father. There will be no Christmas in this house.

Because of this, she will more fully understand that when I left him, I was making a hard choice, a sacrifice I didn't want to make - and I knew it wasn't just my sacrifice. She's come to comprehend that sometimes you have to do what you have to do to survive, to take care of yourself, because the other person can't or won't. And that it hurts. It really, really hurts to make a choice that causes you even more loss, though you have to do it. She understands, because now she's helping to make that choice. And it's killing her.

It's overwhelming. I know why she's angry, she has every right to be. I know she's hurting and lashing out because all that pain and frustration is just too big to fit neatly inside. This isn't just about tonight, for her. It's about everything. Her whole life.

I wanted to be her comfort. She wasn't alone tonight. I was there, full of pride and smiles and cheering applause. Instead of comforting her, though, all my presence managed to do was highlight who wasn't there. I tried to shift her focus, but I failed miserably. She cried herself to sleep.

And because I cannot ease her pain, cannot mend her broken family and her broken heart, I shall do the same.

 

[Gypsy]

Is that a light I see?

I had originally planned a luxuriously lazy Sunday, during which I would not only clean out that hall closet at my own leisurely pace, but I'd also update my journal with a nice newsy post. That all changed around 7ish this morning, when my sister called.

I'd been planning to go get my mother and bring her home with me for a few days, due to the upcoming holiday and the fact that Mom's car is even more broken than mine. Sadly, however, deer season took precedence over the repairs on my car. My shade tree mechanic is in hiding. Literally.

So, since Sis has the day off, I'm to meet her at her house (fifteen minutes ago) and together we'll drive to Mom's in her car. This is cool, because the thought of my Mom sitting alone in her apartment on Thanksgiving, crying, was killing me. However, this also means that Mom will be here more than two or three days. I'm looking up, straight up, and saying "This is going to be a good thing, right? Because I don't need suckage."

It'll be cool. I'll make damned sure Mom has her medication this time. And I'll be eating her famous dressing and chocolate fudge pie for days, so that's always a nice bonus to any visit.

Anyway, I'm late, and I haven't even painted on a face yet. I shouldn't be sitting here at all - but I won't be able to update until after Mom goes back home.

I have a meeting tomorrow with WIA, about getting me placed in a "work experience" job. I'd told her I'd find my own job, since she couldn't do that AND help me with school. But since the person who is my caseworker over at the Career Center (who has to make me do a job search to keep my $290 a month) used to work in the same office as WIA, and they both know me from my volunteer work there, they're attempting to work together with separate programs to help me. Now WIA is going to place me in a job, and Career Center program is going to pay for school and state paid daycare and car repairs (a little bitty bit, anyway - we hope) and job search transportation costs.

Whew, I ran out of breath.

Anyway, my point is this: I have two ladies in two different offices running two different programs actually phone conferencing to try to make sure I get full benefits of both programs. Not just now, either. See, both programs have the ability to pay for two years of college - but only two. It's looking like they're going to get me to work until school starts by handing off the college funds portion to Career Center program first. And apparently, at the two year mark, they intend for WIA to pick up the tab for tuition and books. And of course, it's assumed that I can also get a Pell Grant simultaneously. Can you say Survival Money?

I have no idea yet how the details of all this will work out, or if some boss somewhere will jump up and yell "You can't do that!" or what. I only know that, at this point, I'm extremely gratified that these women are going out of their way to do more than just push my paper through and give me non-answers. They intend to honestly try to cover all bases needed, so I can go to school and still take care of my kids. They both seem to think that not only am I really serious about school, but that I'm capable of succeeding as well. I'm worth extra effort. This is based not only on my attitude in front of their desk as I'm asking for help, but also on my attitude and abilities shown while I was volunteering in their presence.

I know this is rambly and probably somewhat difficult to follow, as I'm not only in a HUGE rush to write this down, but I'm also kind of emotional. These women aren't looking at me like I'm a lazy person they HAVE to go through the motions of pretending to "help". They've expressed belief in my determination and ability to reach my goal, AND genuine interest in my success. Maybe I should technically be a little less overcome with gratitude and warm fuzzies, but this is just alien to me, around here. I've been asking agencies (DFS) for true help for a long time, and continuously been told "Sorry, can't help with you that. But there's a night job open at the convenience store that pays minimum wage! You can get that job, so go get it - and be grateful to have any job."

No no, I don't have time for that rant. But I'm thinking it.

Basically what I'm saying here is this: If these two ladies succeed in what they're cooking up between them, I'm definitely going back to school - provided the college takes me off financial aid suspension, forgives my debt, and lets me in the door. And while I'm doing that, I'll (hopefully) still have just enough income to cover the basic bills. That won't give me christmas money, car insurance money, back to school clothing funds or shoe replacement cash, but by God, it's more than I've been offered before now.

I'm trying to remain calm, to not get my hopes too high until the actual events take place. But I can't help being excited, in spite of my stern lectures to myself in the mirror. I don't have a clue how I'll handle the big expenses that are coming in December, it's possible I may have to stop driving my car due to lack of insurance. And my lawyer won't file that motion to modify until I come up with $150 for the filing fee, so I'm at a standstill there, too. Never mind christmas, my kids need shoes and winter coats. But I have to say this: having hope, real hope, about anything at all - it's a blessing I'm busy hugging to my heart.

Onward ho, gotta go.

 

[Gypsy]

The Day After: The Prequel

I'd just like to state that the next entry (after this one) was originally written and intended for posting last night. However, I was pretty wordy, and it needed some editing to make it fit - more so than usual. I was just too sleepy to figure out what I wanted to cut out and what I wanted to re-word to make it fit, so I just put it on my hard drive to be reworked this morning. And here I am, still trying to make it fit without leaving anything out, as is my way.

I'd also like to state for the record that though I didn't mention any of it last night, there were a few laughs and good moments this past week. My daughter and mother made dressing and pies together, in one of those really rare true grandmotherly type moments. My mom just isn't a typical gramma, and I'm afraid I won't be, either. There are a lot of cool things about my mom, but being the epitome of grandmotherliness isn't one of them.

My daughter really enjoyed the cooking session they had. She learned a lot, and since she likes to cook, it was good for her. And I'm glad they had that bonding moment, that they made that memory together. Mom's not going to be around forever, and it's nice to know my little girl will have that particular moment in time to draw on for her happy memory list.

We started cooking Tuesday night, making the cornbread we'd need for all the dressing. We were only cooking for eight, but all eight of us LOVE LOVE LOVE my mom's dressing. So, we fix enough so that small pans could be frozen for later consumption. It's wonderful to smell mom's fabulous sage (extra sage for me!) dressing in the oven on a dreary February afternoon.

Mom and I did have a few laughs, when she managed to shut up her incessant obsessive nagging about what I needed for my computer so she could network to it and therefore be online with her laptop while I'm online myself. I love her, but where the hell is the practical mother of my youth? Huh? Look at both our incomes, and look at the calendar. Is there ANY spare money for something as frivolous as computer parts, when in the next four weeks I have to come up with a six month car insurance premium, $135 filing fee on my custody case, christmas and winter coats? I have less than $300 a month coming in to do all that plus pay monthly bills, so give me a fucking break, okay? Please? Just shut the hell up and let it go?

But she wouldn't. She would NOT let it rest. To the point that I actually told her to her face that she's fucking obsessed about being on the internet, and please, shut the hell up so I can THINK straight already! I actually said that to her, more than once. Mom, I cannot concentrate on anything with your loud voice droning on beside me, and THIS is actually important, so would you please just shut the hell up and let me THINK? Just...don't talk. Close your mouth and just sit there, please. Thank you. (She did, for about twenty seconds.)

I was trying to take care of actual business. You know, job hunting? I have to have ten contacts for this week, it's not negotiable. If I don't, I lose my TANF and they don't help me with school, either. And frankly, finding a job and jumping through all the hoops so I can get the $@^#@ help I need is ever-so-much-more-important than you being on the internet, mmmkay?

This is not the mother from my teen years. I don't know who this alien is, but she needs to take an internet break, seriously. She is WAY too wrapped up in it. I realize that newbies tend to be that way awhile, hell, I did it too for a brief time - though not to this extreme. But she's not a newbie anymore! And please, mother, don't be cybering with strange men on the net while I'm in the room. It just isn't right, okay? Ewww. Please. Wait till I go to bed.

Now I sound like Alyssa. Good god.

I know Mom doesn't have much of a life anymore, and it's hard for her because she's always been...outgoing. Oh hell, she was a party girl, period. Mom was a wild child, and she's always had a hard time with settling down. Being a responsible mother was hard for her, and considering her true nature, I now recognize that she did the very best she could with us girls, she tried hard - and considering her true nature, she did pretty well. She's 53 now, and still struggling with the concept of aging and breaking body parts and not being the one in the room that all men gravitate toward.... though they pretty much still do. Considering her age and the fact that she no longer has her beautiful teeth (accident cracked and broke them all), she's still a looker.

So I understand why she relies so heavily on the net for her social fix, I do. But my God, is it more important than the live people right here in the house, the people you've been crying you want to spend time with? We wanted to spend time with You, Mom. Not the back of your laptop.

No one's perfect, and Mom is Mom, I know this. I was just super frustrated because, of all the people in my life, she has been the one to really teach me by force that you have to have responsible priorities. She has medical bills out the wazoo, no food in her house, a broken car, needs to go to the doctor something fierce, and she's wanting to spend money on MY computer for frivolous reasons. That money would fix her car, enable her to get to the grocery store for chrissakes. And my God! If you really want to spend money on ME, spend it on something I truly need.

I feel awful about my tension, and I'm ashamed of the temper tantrum I threw on Thursday. I'd just really had enough of her taking over my household, telling me every time I said something that I should do *whatever* a different way. Every single time, without fail. It all just added up to me losing control of my tongue in a moment of supreme irritation and frustration, and behaving like a bratty child.

Dunsany, remember when we talked about autistic tendencies? Well.... I actually scolded her for moving things around in my kitchen. She put wet folded dishtowels on top of my coffeemaker, and my two potholders were thrown randomly about the room. I couldn't stand it. I kept trying to tidy the place, put things where they belong, wipe up spills, throw away trash she left all over the place. And finally, I came right out and told her "This goes HERE. That goes THERE. Please do not put my potholders on the stove, do not fold wet dishtowels so that they sour - hang them on the oven door! PLEASE do not put dishes in my dishwater with food and grease on them, rinse them first! And don't EVER put dirty dishes in my drainboard where the clean dishes go, ever again."

I had kept my mouth shut for four days, just moving things back where they belonged, and I finally just snapped. That stuff wouldn't have annoyed me so much if she hadn't jumped on my Internet/Computer nerve and ridden it hard from the minute she walked through the door, though. I couldn't think straight. She seriously just would not let me think, let me conduct my business, let me have any semblance of my own routine in my own house. I couldn't even take a shower when I wanted to without her interfering.

I *so* cannot handle that shit. I think I'm not ever going to be marriage material, ever again. I'll have to have my own house and just date forever, for real. I wonder if I'll end up with a man who's cool with that arrangment, or if I'm doomed to be alone and lonely when my kids are grown and gone.

Oh. And add to all this shit the fact that the Ex called Tuesday from here in town, asking to see the kids. My children were terrified that he'd come try to take them. The look of trapped-animal fear in their eyes when I told them he was in town just about broke my heart in two. They begged to stay home from school Wednesday, for fear he'd show up there. Since it was a half day with no homework expected, I let them. I also made damned sure I went to both schools to change their enrollment forms and put the restraining order on file, as well as speak with their principals and the rest of the office staff. Something I should have done a month ago, I know. I'd let it slip because he was so many hundreds of miles away, and we felt relatively safe. Both kids breathed a huge sigh of relief when I came home and told them it was done - dad can't pick them up at school. Neither can anyone else in their family. No one but me and my sister is allowed.

Anyway, in the past week I couldn't go near my journal, and I really needed to use it the way I used it when I first started - to vent frustration and find some peace or at least humor to get me through the next day. So here I am, unable to shut the hell up already, and being terribly random to boot.

All I can say is, thank god for Randy. Not only did he show up Monday night and take me for a drive, but he helped me get Mom home again. In the past three months especially, he has shown himself to be a truer friend than even I thought he was. It's pretty cool when his spidey-sense kicks in and he calls or shows up because he knows I need some help - and actually helps me.

I am more thankful for this friendship than words can possibly say.

 

[Gypsy]

The Day After

Sis and I went to get Mom in her car, because my car is shitola and can't handle that trip. It's three hours up, three hours back. The only issue with Sis's car is that when you shut it off, it likes to stay that way awhile. I think it signed a union contract or something. Or maybe it just doesn't like Sissy's lead foot and is rebelling, I don't know. In any case, when you shut it off, it might start in five minutes, it might not start for two hours, but you ain't goin no-fuckin-where in that green beast until it decides smoke break is OVER.

So an hour into the trip back, the car dies while it's running. It's never done that before, and Sis and I were instantly nervous. We coast off the road, and she tries to start it every few minutes. After 20 of them, it decides its had a good laugh at our expense, and off we go. Until about twenty miles down the road, when it gives a lurch and dies again. Again we coast off the highway and onto the shoulder to wait it out. As we're coasting to a stop, this car pulled off onto the opposite shoulder, directly across from us. And they just sat there in their car and stared at us. It was creepy.

Car, come on, damnit. Finally it starts, and we're all holding our breath and crossing our fingers and toes and legs and eyes that it doesn't happen again. We musta crossed too much, because sure enough, it once again lurched and died. It was quite dark by this time, and still drizzling. Seeing a gas station ahead, we struck up a cheering section for the car. "Come on baby, you can do it. I know you can." "Please get there please get there please get there please please please." "Now you listen to me, you fucking green piece of shit. Do you want me to blow you the fuck up? You better make it to that gas station, or so help me god, I got a bomb with your name on it, bitch."

Guess who said what?

So there we are at the gas pump of a station in the middle of absolutely NOWHERE, Arkansas, in a car that has a deathwish. We fill the tank, wash the glass, check the fluids, and settle down to wait for the cantankerous machine to have mercy on our stressed out souls. We notice that the exact same people that pulled off across the highway from us earlier were there, and they were still watching us. CREEPY. They're not doing anything, but if we focus on it too much we'll scare ourselves, so we try to ignore them. Boredom quickly set in.

Me being me, and knowing that Mom will be Mom and then Sis is surely gonna be Sis, I racked my brain for diversion. I grabbed my purple clipboard, a sheet of paper and my trusty pen. Knowing my sister's mood and typical train of thought, I turned to her and said "Gimme a word." She made one of those "What in the HELL" expressions that crinkle her eybrows all the way to her ears. "Huh?" "Gimme a word" I repeated. "Any word at all." With thunderclouds in her eyes, she slid me a look without turning her head. "Crispy" she growled.

"Mom, your turn." While sis was busy thinking of torching her car to a crisp, mom was obviously busy being grateful for that hill we coasted down that got us to the pump and the lights, off a road it would have been dangerous to be sitting on in the dark. "Downhill" she said with a 'heh' kind of laugh. Back to sis.

You get the idea, right? It's called "Quick, Make A Funny Game Up On The Spot Before This Turns Seriously Very Ugly And Someone Dies Or Goes To Jail For Violence Against A Mother." Lotsa fun.

After twenty words were given, I gave twelve words of my own. We were nearly done when a weird looking guy (he gave me the frelling CREEPS) came up to my window. I opened the door and asked if I could help him. He proceeded to introduce himself and ask where we were from. WARNING WILL ROGERS!

Me: Not here.
Creepy Guy: "I'm new here too, that's why I asked"
Me: Ok
CG: I'm from Illinois
Me: Really? What part?
CG: Rockford
Me: Mom, where's Rockford?
Mom: Near Chicago
Me: Oh.
CG: (looking confused) You know Illinois?
Me: I was born there, but haven't been there since I was a kid. All I remember is a white house and railroad tracks. No trip down memory lane for me!
CG: (looking confused) Uhmm...ok. Where you from now?
Me: The other side of the ether.
CG: (seriously lost now) Uhmmm...all over, huh?
Me: Yeah. I'm a Gypsy
CG: (smiling now) Me too!
Me: Really?! Wow! Can you do gypsy curses??
CG: Yeah, but only when someone really pisses me off
Me: Can you remove them?
CG: (confusion again, and now he looks sorta scared, too) What?
Me: Can you remove the gypsy curses?
CG: No. I can't.
Me: Damn. You're utterly useless.
CG: (looking confused with a touch of pissed) Excuse me?
Me: I needed someone to remove the curse on this car.
CG: (really looking mad now) Will the car not start?
Me: Nooooo...we were just having so damned much fun, we decided to hang out here awhile. This is a REALLY nice gas station! (I was about to add the words "Here's Your Sign" when he interrupted me)

CG: You have to move the car, or we'll have to tow it. (and boy does he look pissed off)

Me: Dude. It won't start. Where and how would you like us to move it?
CG: I'll push it. Back there (pointing behind us...where it's dark. Seriously very very very pitch black dark.)

Me: I don't think so.
CG: You Have. To Move. The Car.
Me: Well I'm not going back there in the dark - the boogeyman might get me!!
(Mom and Sis are trying so hard to match my deadpan expression, but failure is setting in now. I hear Mom choking, and Sis is breathing really hard and fast through her nose. I almost lose the game, but grab hold quick while his back is turned, looking at the spot he wants us to move to)

CG: Ma'am, you have to move.

Me: Where would you like us to go? THERRRRE, (flourishing my hand like Holly on the Price is Right) where we'd block allllll those parking spaces? I think not. And don't say back there again, because I'm not gonna let the boogeyman get me just to unblock this pump!

MOM: How about under that sign up there?
Me: Ah yes. How would that be? Would that work for you?
And he started to stomp away, but when he got about three steps from the car, I stepped out and around the back. "I'll get this" I said, and began pushing. He assisted until the car was rolling well enough to make the distance, and we both stopped. I walked toward the spot the car was coasting to, never looking back. I got in and faced my family - who stared at me for three seconds and then burst into laughter. We laughed so hard I swear people heard it inside the building. Sis almost peed her pants.

The moment of dangerous tempers passed, and sis grabbed my pen, demanding my last words. I gave them, then she shoved the clipboard back at me, waiting expectantly. Yeah, I needed to finish making up the game, I almost forgot. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that the reading of the lists delighted both women to no end. But even that wasn't as much fun as when I put the words into a song. Mom decided the tune should be "The Farmer in the Dell" so I tailored it a tad to fit. I defy you to keep a straight face:

The crispy forward butt is busy catching eggs
Contagious downhill drippy bitch, get out the fuckin' way!
That's as far as we got, because at that point we laughed so hard no one could make sound come out of their mouths anymore. Shortly after, the car started and we were once again homeward bound.

Side note: This site is all about improv. Well, I may not belong to any group or know jackshit about it, but if that wasn't a form of improvisation, I don't know what is.

Tonight, I'd just like to state for the record that I love Randy. Really really really really love him. A lot. Bunches of great big bunches of little bunches. I could kiss his whole face, and if he washed them first, his feet too. I just got back from taking my mother home, courtesy of Randy and his trip-safe vehicle that doesn't break down on the side of the road and not want to start OR have a bad clutch issue. Muah! Love ya, toots! You really bailed my ass out, good buddy.

I was SO ready for Mom to go home. I love her, but she seriously needed go home. My car was out of the question, and so was Sis's. And they're calling for SNOW. And Mom lives on the other side of a frickin MOUNTAIN. Oh, I was worried, stressed, and scared, because what if I couldn't stop myself from strangling her if she didn't leave? I love her, but holy shit that woman got on my last frelling nerve QUICK this time. She started in on me Sunday night when we walked in the door at 9:30 pm, and didn't let up until we got in Randy's vehicle to leave.

Oh, thank you Randy! Thank you thank you thank you! I love you! Forever and ever amen! MY HERO! I'll scratch your back! Are you hungry?

Dunsany is my hero too. Because of him, I (hope like hell) believe that the issue that drove me to murderous thoughts on this visit will be non-issue come Christmas.

Anyway, the visit from hell is over, there's a million dollars (okay, $100) worth of food in the fridge, I'm home alone and enjoying the peace and quiet. If I didn't know Randy was a true friend before, I do now. I'm pretty sure that if he'd gotten here too late to take Mom home, he'd have helped me move the body. I LOVE YOU RANDY! Dunsany is saving my sanity and future bacon. The Ex is in town but he's leaving tomorrow.

I'd say that's a pretty good list of things to be thankful for, right there. Add to that the fact that I even have a roof to call a home of my own, two fantastic kids, a good dog, insulation and heat when it's cold and windy out (like right now), and I'm pretty sure my level of gratitude would either well your eyes with tears or make you barf.

Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

 

[Gypsy]

So, on Sunday I just took a deep, deep breath.... and did nothing much a'tall. We laid around in our jammies relaxing so long we got sick of it. Around fiveish or so, I shut off the tube and declared Housework Time. And within two minutes, all three of us were busy in our respectively assigned rooms, with nary a complaint. Even Harley, who had the bathroom. And he actually scrubbed everything properly, without being nagged, without complaint. Including sweeping and mopping.

Boy, were we ever rested.

After about an hour of housework and music, we all sort of wandered off to do our own thing. We'd been watching the Boy Meets World marathon together for the entire day, but after the house was clean Alyssa went to her room with the phone, Harley dug out his cards and went to a friend's house, and I wrote.

Until I went to the kids' cousin's house to pick up their presents from their dad, that is. And of course, though I walked in and tried to walk out, he followed me to my car. We ended up standing there in the cold rain, talking about the situation with the Ex and the kids for an hour. Ugh. Brr.

While that conversation was taking place, the Ex was calling the kids from Florida. I wasn't here, and I feel horrible about it. Harley talked to his dad for the first time in three weeks, and he seemed okay - but then he'd been bought with presents. Alyssa was in tears. Dad tried to buy her with a guilt trip.

I was pretty pissed that it worked out that way, but being mad doesn't help, so I bit it down. Mostly I just listened to Alyssa talk for over an hour, all cuddled up in her bed in the dark. And the more she talked, the more worked up she got, so I had to try to do something about it.

I tried to give her hope - hope that her father had finally hit the bottom of his rock bottom, and might actually be truly working on climbing out, this time. Maybe he'd finally lost enough that he'd really want to do something about it, maybe he's really taking the sessions with the doctor to heart and not just going for the drugs. I can hope so, for my children's sake, even though I don't personally give two figs for the man otherwise. And I was honest with her about that. If it weren't for my kids needing the man to be a good father, I wouldn't give a shit if he woke up tomorrow. I didn't quite say it in those words, but hey. I'm not going to lie and say I actually care about him, because I don't. But I do care about my kids and all that they want and need, so I hope that for their sake he's down there working on getting his shit together for real, this time.

Other than that little bit of drama, Sunday was pretty darn relaxing.

Today was.... rude. It was a rude day. No matter where I went or what I did, everyone was having a shitty day, and they were being rude, snippy, or downright hateful. Maybe there was a magic potion in the rain that made everyone simultaneously annoyed in my presence, I don't know.

I managed to call my doctor, call my potential sitter, write two emails to the vice president of student affairs at the local college regarding my bad debt, call the electric company (I used at the time I dropped out of school) in search of documentation from '89 (for the veep at the college), make six (crappy) job contacts, argue with a caseworker at DFS, pop in at WIA to make copies of my resume and references, and still make it home by 2 pm. Then I filled out four (crappy) applications for returning tomorrow.

I've done three loads of laundry and some dishes. There is SO much housework that needs to be done! This rain makes me lazy, I swear.

After the mail ran, I intended to do a bit of rearranging in my computer after I finished filling out those (crappy) job applications, but damnit, the Bourne Identity came on and I'd never seen it before. So I guess I'll save it for tomorrow, and hope to hell I don't break anything.

I'm actually rather surprised Dunsany hasn't pinged back on the email I sent letting him know the package arrived, but other than that, I suppose all loose ends for the day are neatly tied. Well. Enough that I ain't worried about nothin, and I'll sleep just fine tonight. Except for how achy I feel, anyway. And all the sneezing. And the headache.

Maybe I should go take a nap. Yeah, a nap. Doesn't a nap sound nice?

 

[Gypsy]

Yay me.

I have already done all the truly embarrassing bragging upon myself to a few chosen good friends, so I think that at this point, I'm just going to say this:

I. Am. A Genius.

Thank you, thank you very much.

Dunsany sent me a package that consisted of the bits n pieces I needed to get ethernet running in my machine again, and set up a hub. And lil ole me managed to install an ethernet NIC all by myself. Alone. With no help. And no instructions. And I didn't break anything!

I also got the hub set up and running, but that was pretty much no big deal. Just as soon as I figured out the proper way to plug it all together, the little green lights came on. That was a pretty good indication I'd succeeded.

Now when my mom comes back, she can get online without driving me nucking futs, and this is a GOOD thing. It's all ready. I get to have a little peace in my own house come Christmas, because Dunsany took pity on my stressed out soul and sent me a care package. Didn't I tell you he was my hero? Hell yeah.

I was ridiculously proud of myself for being able to figure all this stuff out by myself. I know I drove Dunsany bonkers with my self-back-patting emails. Sorry man. Couldn't help myself.

I was telling the whole story to Randy on the phone while I was doing dishes, and he was just plain lost. *I* know more about this stuff than he does. I believe my words were "he doesn't know a browser from a web page - and he likes it like that". So while he was really proud that I'd opened up my computer and installed something ALL BY MYSELF WITH NO HELP, he didn't understand a single word I said, really. He doesn't know what ethernet means. A modem could be a knob on a mouse, he's clueless. So here I am, giggling and bragging on myself on the phone to him while I wash dishes, and I pull the orange peeler out of the suds. All of a sudden, I can't stop laughing, which really confused him.

You see, the night before I did the whole genius routine, I'd grabbed an orange off my kitchen table, and that orange peeler out of the drawer. I sat down to peel the orange. And for the life of me, I could NOT figure out how to make the frelling thing work right. No clue. I smooshed my orange on one end trying, then gave up and threw the peeler in the sink, using my fingers to do the job instead. What a huge mess. A juicy, drippy mess. I couldn't even separate slices when I got done with it, and I'm not kidding. I'm just glad it was yummy enough to be worth all that.

So while I was bragging and carrying on about the computer stuff, I find this peeler in the dishwater. And it was like God piped up and said "Shut it. Last night you couldn't even operate a simple orange peeler. Genius my ASS."

Sometimes, reality checks are just too funny, aren't they?

Okay, so enough of that. Let's see what else is new.

Oh, wait. Almost forgot. Because of Dunsany's wonderfulness with the ethernet assistance, I now have use of my optical mouse again. My beautiful, properly working, glowing all red and cheerfully, way cool buttons on the sides optical mouse. I MISSED my optical mousy. I have this strange urge to name it, I'm so happy that it's back in use.

I HATED that old ball mouse. I hated it before I bought the optical, and I hated it even more after I got spoiled with the optical. I feel like I've been set free. Silly, I know.

Christmas in November. Oh yeah. I'm happy happy. I'd already gotten DVD's, and now this. You just can't even imagine how thrilled I am, how pampered I feel.

Anyway, really done with that now. Honest.


In other news, my life got turned a bit upside down today. I got hired. And it was the weirdest interview I've ever had. In fact, I hesitate to call it that at all. The man hired everyone he called, he asked a couple of questions to satisfy the formality thing, and handed me forms to fill out. It wasn't until I flipped the page on the four page packet that I realized I must've just been hired, because they were tax forms.

There was no discussion of schedule, what I can work and what I can't, if I have a sitter, if I even WANT the position they're offering. I wasn't told what that position is, but because I "overheard" a nearby conversation, I'm fairly sure it's going to be Stocking. I'm gonna be a Stock Girl. Woo.

I don't know how much they're paying me, but it's at least minimum, right? I don't know my schedule. I know I was hired, and I'm to be there at 8 AM tomorrow, wearing black jeans that I don't own and a shirt that has no writing on it, and preferrably has some sort of collar. I have no idea what time they intend to let me go home.

Why do I have the feeling that there's about to be serious issues about this? Why do I have the feeling that I'll be fired after only one day because I won't work nights and weekends?

*sigh*

I can only hope and pray that this is going to be a workable deal, because I need an income fast. If I only work for one month and then go to school, I'll live with it - this is December. I need a filing fee, a six month car insurance premium, and christmas for the kids. Starting with winter coats for them, and new socks. And some Hoodies, it got cold here, fast. And Harley will have outgrown all his jeans by the end of the month, he's in a growth spurt. The kid wants a remote control toy, but it's going to be all I can do to keep him in clothes.

Okay, breathe... Oy, I have to quit thinking of everything we need all at once like that. It causes anxiety attacks.

Maybe I'll get a discount at the store. Fat chance, and fat lot of good it will likely do even if there is an employee discount. It's a dollar store type place.

Anyway, I'm getting the laundry done, house tidied, all that. Hanging out with the kids watching Animal Planet. Trying really hard not to stress.

OH. Met with the person over my case at the Career Center. For twenty job contacts in two weeks, they're supposed to put into the computer that I get paid $50 extra on my TANF, right? Well. I apparently missed something in the original meeting, because when I transferred all the information on my job contacts from my notebook to the log they gave me, I pretty much wrote all the dates down in my log as the date I transferred the information. Even though I didn't do all the job search on just two days, it reads that way on the log. I didn't realize that that was going to be such a nitpicked detail, I didn't think about it at the time. I was stressed out. So, now I'm going to be paid for four days of job searching, NOT ten/fourteen. There goes that fifty bucks. I'll be lucky to see ten, now. I was counting on that measly fifty bucks, damnit. I have no idea when I'll get a paycheck on this job.

Okay, you know what? This entry is making me more stressed and depressed, not less. I think it's time to go lose myself in a mindless sitcom, or watch a movie. Or maybe finish the laundry and wash the dishes so I can take a shower and a sleeping pill. Ugh.

Why couldn't I have gotten hired someplace I was actually interested in working?

 

[Gypsy]

I just read my last entry...

... and good grief, I'd bitch if you hung me with a new rope, wouldn't I?

Yes, I am contrite. I need a damned job, a paycheck, something anything at all, RIGHT NOW. Why am I freaking out? There are a few reasons.

One: I'm about to do a job that will not use my brain, and will likely hurt the body parts that just spent six months recuperating from a car accident. This worries me.

Two: I will be working with two people who are associated with the Ex's family. Two of them. TWO. Mother and daughter. The mother is one of the asst. managers. Any idea how nervous this makes me? Any idea at all? I'm worried, and I'm not going to lie about it. The thought that, if they happen to be of the clan thinking of "poor Henry" and "she's such a bitch", they will now be in a position to connive against me, worries me. They're going to know way too much of my business. Like, when I'm at work and not home to protect the kids. Yes, I'm a worrier. And I know it's stupid, but I'm constantly worried about the Clan Conspiracy. Especially now that I've taken such a vocal stand against the Ex "when he's so sick, poor thing". Ugh.

Three: I do not need yet another job that didn't work out for complicated reasons on my job history, for crying out loud. Please, please let this be a livable working solution, at least until I go to school. If I leave because I go to school, at least that won't be held against me on future job applications.

Four: I'll be working exactly precisely next door to Pizza Place #1. You know, the one that fired me because I wouldn't give up the link to this journal? I'm sure that's not going to be an actual problem, but who knows? Is Mike still feeling vindictive against me? I hope not. He'd better behave himself, is all I can say. Because I will. Unless he doesn't. And if he doesn't, he's going to regret it, because it will be the last possible straw. I can forgive a lot, but even I have my uncrossable lines.

Okay. Deep breath. Blooooowwwwwww it all out. I can do this, and do it with a smile on my face. I've slogged through much, much worse situations. And I'm truly hoping that my worse-case scenario worries aren't even issues at all. Open mind, girl.

Okay. Let's see. I'll have a paycheck. I'll be staying physically active, and I happen to be a person who needs that. I just hope I'm not doing heavy lifting constantly that will hurt, but if it's not constant and really heavy, I'll be fine.

Just... hey God? Could you just make sure I get into school, please? I am so very ready to go to school. I want to never HAVE to apply for a job like this again. What was it Rebecca said? I'd have gotten the job at Community Action (probably) if I'd had just a two year degree. In anything. They don't care if it's a degree in basket-weaving, so long as I've proven that I can commit to something and make the grades.

I'm seriously rambling. I'll slap myself for you. Gotta go.

P.S.
Please wish me luck. And have a nice day.

 

[Gypsy]

Better late than never

I was nearly done writing a nice post earlier today, when a nasty power surge hit. All power shut off, came on, shut off, came on then shut off again, rapid fire. It took out my cordless phones. I'm surprised it didn't kill anything else, because everything in the house made weird noises - especially my computer.

I was talking about how excited I am, right now. How although I haven't gone to the appeals hearing yet, haven't been through all the hoops... for the first time in forever, going back to school feels real. Really really real. Like, I need to buy a backpack NOW real.

I posted a thread in the off-topic, because I wanted certain people on the boards who don't read my journal to know, but before I could then post in my journal, I got pulled away.

Due to an email conversation with the vice president of the college, my debt has been cleared. Nearly $1000 worth of debt... erased. I'm still a bit shocked. It suddenly sank in that I might get a break, a real break. I might actually get to move out of this rut I've been in, DO something. I stared at this monitor with an open mouth for several minutes before I could even move. My daughter walked into the room to tell me some piece of news that had her in a great mood. I stared at her, and tried to listen. I know it was about her boyfriend and something that had been said on the phone, but for the life of me, I don't know what she really said. I just waited patiently for her to finish, then told her I thought I could top it.

She said "You probably can" and sighed, thinking I was going to trump her boyfriend story with one of my own. I turned back to my monitor, and read the email to her. She just looked at me, at first, not understanding. "My debt has been cleared, Sissy. I'm going back to school!" And she screamed.

She screamed in sheer joy, threw her arms around me, and yelled in my ear "Oh my god Mom I'm so happy for you! How did you do it?" So I went back to my first email to the vice president, and read them all out loud to her, in order. She cried her little heart out as she hugged me again, and told me how proud she is of me.

All the money in the world could never buy that moment. Now all I have to do is earn it.

I'm going to get in this time, no matter what. My debt is cleared. I know I'll get the financial aid suspension lifted, now. I already know I qualify for a pell grant. Even if none of the programs I'm forced to participate in do a damned thing to help make it a reality, it's going to be a reality anyway. It doesn't feel out of reach this time. I'm going back to school.

It seems and sounds like it's really not such a big deal. People go back to school all the time. But in my life, the life I've led for the past fifteen years, it IS a big thing. A very big thing.

Everything has been changing around me this entire year. I've been battening down the money hatches left and right, while it gets tighter and tighter around me.

I lost the car I loved so much, that I worked so hard to earn - the nicest car I'd ever owned. I spent six months being simultaneously angry at what I was losing because of that accident and grateful that I wasn't hurt any worse than I was. I've come to grips and then to healing regarding a lot of things from my past with Randy. I've been slowly learning against my will that it's possible to have my independence and accept gifts and help from others. I've dated someone who, while he technically was from my distant past, wasn't a "backsie", and that accomplished several things all at once.

I learned that I can open up enough to get to know someone without automatically categorizing them and their every trait. I realized that I can decide if I feel something for another person without having a chip on my shoulder. I figured out a few things, I think, about what real love is, and how it differs from obsession while looking quite similar all at the same time.

The Ex had two choices when he saw me with G in my car. He could have come to grips with reality and accepted that it's over with some grace. But he didn't. He threw a huge temper tantrum designed to make the world pity him. And a lot of people do feel sorry for poor Henry, but I don't. I know that it was on purpose, that he had a specific reaction in mind. It was calculated. And it involved harming my children, so I can't find it in myself to feel sympathy for him. All my efforts are focused on helping them get through their loss of their father, healing, moving on, and being safe.

And making a better life for us, one way or another.

Wouldn't it be nice if I could suddenly find myself with the means to get a good car again? And then go to school, get my degree, and find a good paying job I could love doing right here, where they wouldn't have to leave everything they know? And wouldn't it be nice to do all that and be able to find the love of my life, too? Someone who would love me with as much passion and depth as I have within me, who could make my heart feel safe enough to let down its guard and truly love again? Wouldn't that be cool?

I've waited in a holding pattern for three long years for the time to come for change, and I think it's finally here. This place has been my prison, and I've wanted nothing but out since I got here. Maybe I just had to be here long enough to accept my sentence so I'd stop fighting so hard before I could get to this point, I don't know.

I know I wanted my kids full time, for their father to leave us alone, and for me to go to school. I've wanted answers to a million "Why?" questions. I've wanted peace in my aching and angry heart. And I've wanted hope.

It absolutely astounds me how many of these things appear to be moving my direction. What's even more amazing is how they're all tied to each other. Wow.

When you can sit and count this many blessings happening at the same time, it's hard not to feel like you've been touched by the hand of God.

 

[Gypsy]

I'm a teeny bit stressed...

...but I honestly don't care. This really isn't that big a deal. The only potential disaster that will come of this is losing my TANF, and I don't even know that that would happen.

Things are not especially good at work. I think they're going to let me go.

I don't hate the job, per se. I don't mind working hard. And something about straightening shelves making everything orderly and neat appeals to me. I mean, I'm the person who loves to attack housework when they're upset, right? It's no glamour job, but there's a great deal of satisfaction in taking a seriously messy aisle and putting it to rights. Order from chaos is soothing to me. And I can let my mind wander somewhat while I'm working. I don't mind it.

What I mind is two main things.

One: One particular asst. manager who is very hard to work for. I think I'll leave it at that, but I don't hold out a lot of hope for developing a good working relationship with them. I honestly can't see why this person was put in a position of leadership, they aren't suited to it.

Two: The schedule. I put on my application the hours I'm able to work. I discussed this with the district (regional?) manager at hire, as much as I was able. I discussed it with the aforementioned shift manager. I realize that they expect me to work around their schedule, and that means my hours would be different all the time, etc. However, I told her point blank last week that I cannot work past five PM. I will not leave my children alone past five o'clock, I do not have a sitter for past that time. And even if I did, my kids need at least one parent around more than ten hours a week. If I work the schedule they've given me this week, I'll be leaving the house at 5:30 pm on Wednesday, and not coming home until past 10 pm. On Thursday, I'd leave at 7:30 pm and come home past 11 pm. They have me down for 1-6 both Friday and Saturday.

I told them last week that if they cannot adapt my work schedule to the hours I'm able to give them, that they need to let me know I don't have a job. They made this schedule AFTER that conversation. If it's impossible to give me the schedule I wrote on my application I am able to work, why did they even call me for an interview? Why did they hire me? I TOLD them at hire I cannot come in before 8 AM, I TOLD them I can't work past 5, and I TOLD them I need to be with my kids on the weekends.

My kids are already going through enough crap because of their dad, the restraining order, all that. They don't need to be left with people with entirely too many people (and little kids) in the house, and too much noise after school until past bedtime while I work. It's too stressful, it's impossible to do homework there, and they NEED their routine. They need the safety and stability of me being home. They need to go to bed on time, in their own bed, and not be woken up after an hour or three to go home. They need at least one of their parents to be in attendance.

How can it be so impossible to give me the 9-2 shift? I can work until four or five, even. Why is that so impossible? Why? I'm not asking for 40 hours a week, twenty will do if necessary. That's all they have me scheduled for this week, anyway. Need me to work full time? Fine. I'd take 8 to 4/5 o'clock four or five days a week. That's almost considered double shifts for that place, for stockers and cashiers. Happy to do it. Just not after 5 pm and not on the weekends when I'm supposed to be a MOTHER to my KIDS.

*sigh*

I may not have a choice for this month, because I need money. But the idea of wreaking havoc on my kids' schedule, routine, entire lives because of a part time job is killing me. My son's homework won't get done. The dog won't get walked and will have accidents and get sick. Everyone will become super stressed and grouchy, and it'll take months to restore harmony again.

I don't know what to do. There has to be a better answer than this either/or I'm being given. What do I do? I don't know. I really don't. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. Which is worse?

I can bite my tongue, smile, and deal with hateful bosses. But my kids... they're counting on me to take care of them in ALL the ways. I'm the only one they CAN count on.

I need car insurance. They need winter clothes. They're kids, and they're counting on Christmas. I guess I'll have to put us all through nine kinds of a ringer for a month to try to keep it together. Assuming, of course, I can even get someone to keep them (or stay with them here at home, which would be a lot better) while I work those stupid, stupid hours.

Guess I'll find out tomorrow.

Hrm. Guess I was a tad more upset about it than I was letting on to myself. Oh well. Tomorrow is another day, and guess what I have planned? I'm heading to the school to see whether I'm allowed to do early registration under my particular circumstances. If I can't, I intend to gather information about *stuff* at the very least. I also intend to dress somewhat nice for the occasion, because if at all possible, I want to stop by and shake Mr. Vice President's hand and thank him in person. Ahh, a happy thought. That's better.

I'm off to read in bed awhile. Fearless Jones by Walter Mosley looks to be quite the page turner, and might possibly keep me up past my bedtime. I could seriously use an hour of good distraction, though. Thank you again, Dunsany. After having a shitty day, this was a wonderful surprise with impeccable timing.

Everyone who is sick of my rambles, please send $10 to shut me up. I'll stop permanently when we get to $1500. Yep. Totally random. Gotta keep you on your toes.

 

[Gypsy]

No decision yet on the job scene, yet...

...and though I care very much, I also don't. It's not going to matter five years from now. It's going to matter this month, very much so, whether I have a job or not. But it's not going to completely obliterate my entire life if this job doesn't work out. Something will work out. It just will. Somehow. I'm not going to sit back and wait for it to come to me, I'm going to go looking for it, but I've not gone hungry or homeless yet. We'll be alright. I've no idea how, but we will.

On to better subjects.

I got an email this afternoon from the director of financial aid. She advised me that yes, I CAN pre-register even though I'm still under financial aid suspension until that appeals hearing. I meant to go do that early today, but other issues (job issues) had to be dealt with sooner rather than later. Those issues aren't settled, but at least I have a gameplan now. Regardless, tomorrow I'm definitely going to go pre-register, no matter what. But first I'm stopping at the dollar store and buying some bells for my shoes.

Wearing bells on my shoes from mid-November until mid-January used to be my tradition. It drove my mother nuts, but I loved those bells. I loved feeling Christmasy, I loved not being afraid to let people know I was *there*. The last time I wore my bells was Christmas morning, 1987. At noon, when I could no longer pretend my husband was coming back from christmas shopping (he'd left the day before), I removed my bells and threw them in the garbage.

Only someone who has known me most of my life would understand the meaning of that. Or the fact that, seventeen years later, I'm ready for bells again. Ready to once again embrace my inner child, play, laugh, be seen, announce my arrival to the world.

I am alive. Emotionally, I am no longer simply surviving. It took muleheaded stubborness, a will and spirit even my mother and my ex-husband couldn't completely break (mostly because Mr. Silent rescued that spirit at the eleventh hour - at least enough to keep it alive), a lot of lessons learned the really hard way, willingness to see the blessings in the small and simple things, desire to heal, acceptance of that healing in all its forms - even when it hurts like hell, the love of a handful of true friends and family, and a journal that once cost me a safe job. But I'm here. I'm far from perfect, and I'm only just about to begin the next chapter of my life, but the stage is set for so many good changes to come that I feel as though I've won a huge lottery. I have my kids full time. I'm about to go to school. Once I get full custody of the kids, I'll have the freedom to move, when we're ready.

I've healed so very much inside. I know the person I used to be, and I'm still her, she's still me. But instead of being my enemy, I'm now my own friend. I believe, at long last, that all the awful things that have happened in my life didn't happen because I deserved them. I now understand and believe that I'm a good person inside, and I *am* worthy of good things. A good life, where no one hurts me every day. An education. Family who cares. Love. The real kind, that isn't destructive. Inner peace, and yes, serenity.

I'm not only worthy, but I'm capable. What an amazing revelation. So, look out, world. I am alive, and here I come!

 

[Gypsy]

I have no bells on my toes, damnit...

...and I'm sorely disappointed. I bought three different types/sizes of bells today, hoping that one of them would be okay for my shoes. Interestingly, I could not find the same type/size I used to use back when. They look more like buttons. What's up with that? I'll have to check other stores and try again, because no matter what I did to the bells I bought today, I couldn't get my shoelace through the slot on the back. So, I have thirty or so bells, and none on my shoes. What a waste of two bucks. Shame on me. LeSigh.

In other news... I'm officially a student! I got my pre-registration done today, and signed up for the placement test. I wish that was happening before Jan. 11th, I HATE having to wait until last minute to plan things or know what's going to happen. I can't finish registering my classes until I get the scores back on the tests and they know where to put me for math and english. I SO wanted to give her that answer...but my answer doesn't count. She didn't want to assume I'd be carrying more than 12 hours, either. So at the moment, the only thing that's locked down is History since 1877 and Spanish. She suggested I take a beginner's computer course, and I stupidly blinked and asked her why. "Because you'll have to do a lot of writing in Word, and know how to print and stuff." I laughed and told her no worries, I think I can handle that without a class in it at school. I explained I have a computer at home, and I write in Word all the time. Not that most people ever see what I write there, mind you, but I do know how Word works. No, I didn't tell her about installing anything on my machine. *grin*
I met the VP of student affairs today. I was quite pleasantly surprised to discover he was happy to meet me. Apparently my thank you letter after he cleared my debt is something he doesn’t often get, because he again stated that I "made his day". He also gave me a very big and genuine smile when I told him who I was, which grew even bigger when I explained that I was there to shake his hand and thank him in person. What really surprised me was the fact that even his secretary recognized my name when I gave it, and ushered me back seconds after giving me one of *those* looks and a "he’s very busy" brush-off line. I was only at his office for less than three minutes, but it was both highly enjoyable and memorable.

What else happened today?

Oh yeah. I was told by that Very Difficult Asst. Manager that I was off the schedule practically as soon as I walked out the door after my Monday shift. What really irked me the most about this conversation was how she actually argued with me that she had told me I was let go and off the schedule yesterday. That never happened - I never spoke with her yesterday. Yet she insisted repeatedly that she had, and in a very rude manner. What a maddeningly hateful, mean-spirited, spiteful and irritating woman.

Ah well. My life is currently on a MAJOR upward move, I’m not going to worry about it. This happened, so what... by Monday I’ll be in a better suited schedule, with nicer people, doing something to earn money. It might be earning less per hour, but I’m not going to stress over that. I have more important things to focus on, bigger pictures to see, than dollars per hour.

I have my two kids' all around well-being to nurture and protect, and I happen to know from firsthand experience how easy it is for a kid to develop lifelong issues during emotionally messed up times like they’re dealing with right now, issues that can seriously screw with their ability to make good decisions, be happy, or even just know themselves in the future. A child needs a helluva lot more from a parent than just a roof and a meal. They need tons of material stuff - clothes, shoes, all that, yes. They need to know that home will still be home tomorrow, yes. But they also need a lot more time, attention, and emotional support than ‘normal’ in order to even *try* to get through it all in a basically healthy way. And let's face it, I'm the only one who is going to give it to them.

It would be so easy for my daughter to find consolation in the arms of a boy who would use her then throw her away. It would be so easy for my son to try those drugs he has offered to him. If they’re left alone for most of their after-school and before-bed hours on a regular basis, how long would it take for them to make a costly mistake like that - a mistake that would affect not only this month, but the rest of their lives? It’s not worth the risk. We’ll get through, we’ll make do, we’ll get by and we’ll be just fine. In the end, this will all be supporting proof of the need for them to get their education. Silver lining.

How extremely...weird. I just realized I'm more outwardly perturbed about those bells than I am being written off the schedule of a job I need, and need right now. What the hell is wrong with me?

Never mind. Back to good things.
I got to spend twenty minutes or so being a good supportive friend, today. I took a hot meal and a sympathetic ear to Randy, giving him a chance to blow off steam and express concern and confusion over a harsh situation with his daughter. It felt good to be the support system instead of the supported one. Not that this is the first time that’s happened, I just never talk about it. Why I can’t say, except that for some strange reason, feeling good about being a true friend when someone needed me only made today that much better, in spite of the job thing. *shrug* I gave him a little female perspective (I was once 13, so can speak from experience) and feedback as a mutual parental unit of a teenage girl. Naturally, he stated he wasn’t changing the way he was handling his situation, but if I gave him something to think about, then it was worth it.

Sometimes the man is simply too overprotective of his girls, and it can come across as something completely different. The heart is in the right place, but the delivery needs some work.
I have an interview in the morning for a job that would be perfect if I wasn’t going back to school. That’s why I won’t get the job. Why am I going on the interview? Not a clue, but I made the interview appointment, and I’m going. As soon as they find out I wouldn’t be able to permanently work those hours, my resume will hit the trash. It’s a receptionist job at a local law office. Thirty hours a week, weekDAYS only. No way are they going to hire me then have to start all over again with interviews, hiring and training in January. What a shame, really. I’d love to work in a law office. The things I could learn about!

Perhaps I’ll get lucky and impress the interviewer. Perhaps the interviewer will just happen to know of someone who needs some temporary help doing something I’m skilled and/or qualified to do on the schedule I need, and could point me there. It’d be *so* nice, and make so much sense that I’m doing this interview, if it worked out that way. Hey, stop rolling your eyes at me. Stranger things have most definitely happened.

I have to get up at the buttcrack of dawn in order to have my coffee and wakeup time before leaving the house, since the interview is at 8:15 in the morning...and of course I need to be early. I suppose it’s time for me to hit that pillow with the back of my head and gaze happily at Fearless Jones for a few before I *must* sleep.

Dunsany, Happy Birthday one day late. And I’m still waiting for some official Big News. Hear my toe tapping? Don’t make me drag it out of you.

 

[Gypsy]

Don't get too happy, Murphy will hear you.

For those of you who wrote to suggest work-study, I thank you. I already have plans to do work-study when the semester starts, but sadly, it doesn't help me right now. And I need money RIGHT NOW, so I'm job hunting hard and fierce. Last time I did the work-study program, I was a teacher's aide, and did things like grade papers. As a favor to another teacher, I spent four hours doing nothing but formatting a HUGE stack of floppy disks.

It's only minimum wage and that's a low dollar amount, but the schedule can't be beat. Plus, because that paycheck comes from where it does, Housing cannot use it to raise my rent, nor can DFS take it out of the food stamps I use to feed my kids. Plus the whole thing of working for teachers (or whomever) can potentially turn into a networking thing.

Right now, I know I won't be able to even *think* about starting that until mid-January at the earliest. My car insurance will come due long before then. Christmas will happen before then. But, I have a plan, I'll be okay.

Lendon, thank you for the pictures. You're right, it's beautiful.

Minou, that's an excellent idea on the bells. In fact, I have some narrow red ribbon in the house (somewhere) already. I think I shall hunt it down and use it to tie bells on my shoes! Why on earth didn't I think of that to begin with? It'll be easier than unlacing my shoes, anyway. I think I'll hang some from the beam in the living room, as well. Maybe I'll get some mistletoe this year, but I don't know. I've never hung mistletoe in my house before, perhaps that's a tradition I should make my own, beginning this year. We'll see.

I already bought this year's new ornament. I used to try to buy one with the current year on it every year. Had quite the run of them, too. When I left the Ex, he kept everything like that. I didn't even get back the ornaments that were mine as a kid. I've spent the past five years collecting new stuff, and last year I bought my very first ever brand new tree. I don't do real trees. They fall over, they get thirsty and die, they leave needles everywhere to stab your feet, they're a pain to get rid of after the holiday, but most of all, I hate the idea of chopping down a perfectly good living tree just so I can eventually send it to the dump. Seems too much like hunting for sport, to me. Anyway, last year I bought me and the kids a good tree, and we were totally thrilled to have a tree to decorate and put presents under that was bigger than two foot tall. It's shaped quite nicely, and comes pre-strung with lights. It also goes together and stands up ready for decorating in about two minutes. Gotta love that.

But I was talking about ornaments, wasn't I? Yep, oops.

So, I already bought this year's new ornament, when I bought the bells for my shoes that wouldn't go on my laces. It's a candy-cane made of little bells. THOSE bells are made the way my old bells were, only they're smaller. And it appeals to the color-lover in me - they're blue, green, silver, gold, red and my flavorite color: purple. All pretty and jingly and happy, it seemed too perfect to pass up given the mood I was in. Plus, though it looks quite nice, it was only a buck. Gotta love that too.

I had a pretty good day yesterday, for the most part. The interview isn't going to turn into a job because of the scheduling issue come January, but I pretty much expected that to be the case. I went anyway because one never knows for absolute certain - sometimes things work out better than you expect. This didn't turn out to be one of them, but oh well.

Okay, I've been cheerful for as long as I can. Gypsy is freaking out.
I did get some news late yesterday afternoon that took the wind completely out of my sails. A girl named Jaime that I became friends with the first year I left the Ex died yesterday morning. She was on her way to take her final exams at college when she lost control of her car and crashed into a tree. Jaime was *this* close to graduating with her teaching degree. Had a job she wanted and adored all lined up, and was extremely excited about it. Was engaged to be married, and planning her wedding day. She was a beautiful happy energetic person with freckles on her face, always full of smiles and laughter, love and life. And she was only around 25 years old. I'm still trying to get it to sink in that she could possibly be gone, just when... God, this is so unfair.

I'm waiting to find out what the arrangements are so I can pay my respects. I hadn't seen her in at least a year, but not seeing someone doesn't mean you stop being fond of them. I was in a zombie-like kind of shock last night, and cried myself to sleep. I woke up sad this morning, but coping with it slightly better than when I heard the news.

First thing this morning I got an email from Angela, one of the best friends I ever had in my life. I went to high school with her when I lived in Florida, and used to spend the night at her house (where she lived with her dad) every chance I got. She's one of the close friends I lost touch with for 15 years because I married and moved away, and last year we finally reconnected much to our joy.

Her father died Tuesday morning. I don't know yet how or why, I'm too busy being stunned to find out. I'll call her shortly, when I think I can do it without falling apart on her - she does NOT need that. I really liked her dad. Poor Angela. She and her father were really close, and I know she is completely devastated. I dearly wish it were possible for me to go to Florida right now, to be there for her. Oh, Ang...I'm so sorry.

They say these things come in threes, which has me very worried. My mom went in for surgery on her shoulder this morning. It's not a dangerous procedure, but my mom has heart conditions and other health issues which make the anesthesia dangerous. I hope whoever is running that particular show is well experienced, has studied her chart and history very well, and is on their toes every single second. It would be very easy for mom to not wake up again. That's why she's so terrified of surgery of any kind, and why she has put this particular one off for five years - which most likely will mean that even if it's successful she will find she suffers from permanent nerve damage. I feel incredibly guilty that I couldn't go be with her, and I can't go take care of her while she heals up. I know she's scared, and she doesn't have any family or even close friends at her side. That is completely awful, and the guilt is killing me.

Just let her wake up. Ok?

I have a ton to do today, and I wish I could stay home and just hide. I have to go pick up my teensy paycheck, buy laundry detergent, pick up a pair of jeans at the alterations shop (needed a patch), apply for about six jobs, and I have a doc's appt. at 2 pm. After that I'll be taking my kids here and there I guess, then spending the evening making phone calls. It's a nervous kind of day, and I don't know how much I'm going to manage to accomplish. I really don't want to move from this house until I get the call that my mom has made it out of surgery okay. Who knows when that call will come, though, and I HAVE to apply for those jobs or else, whether I do anything more or not. Not a good-feeling day.

Mom drives me batshit sometimes, but I'm definitely not ready to be an orphan. I have to go clean something now.

 

[Gypsy]

It's a brand new week.

Mom made it through the surgery, and yes, they did have trouble waking her up, but she's okay. When they moved her arm to try to position it for what they needed to do, she screamed bloody murder even though she was in a deep sleep, which scared the O.R. out of their wits, I hear. She's in a lot of pain, even though they said the surgery would take the pain away. Hmmm.. did they misdiagnose what's causing that pain in her shoulder? I guess we'll eventually find out.

I didn't get to go to Jaime's funeral. I don't want to talk about it, it's upsetting and sad and painful.

I finally got to talk to Angela, she called at 11:30 last night and we talked until 2:30 this morning. My heart just breaks for her, and there's nothing I can do to help. I wish so much that it were possible for me to just get on a plane and go to her, help her deal with her mom, with sorting through her dad's stuff, and hold her while she cries. She feels so very lost and alone right now. All I can do, though, is let her know I'm here, I care, she has a true friend out there in the world.

It's so pathetically little that I'm able to do for anyone. I can't help my mom, can't help Angela, can't help my sister. I have a hard time just keeping things rolling around here for myself and the kids. I frequently feel like a failure, but I don't know what I could do to change that right now.

In other news, got an email from the Ex a couple of days ago. It angered me when I read it:

Subject: our kids

i know you wont let me see them but do you think that you can un block me so maybe i can talk with them some more other than on sundays .
thanks Henry
if u can let them email me or even talk on msn . i need them i my life as much as u do .PLEASE
**********

How many times do I have to tell him that it isn't that I won't LET him see the kids, it's that the kids don't want to see him? That the reason he doesn't get to talk to my son isn't because I'm feeling contrary, but because his son is refusing to speak to him? That the kids feel the way they do because of HIS mistakes, which he chose not to correct before it was too late? He chose to drink, to bully them in his rages, to use them to hurt me, chose NOT to get counseling and help with the alcohol even when it was offered - even when it was ordered by a court. No one else did this damage. He did.

I wrote him a very long email back. I didn't rant or rave, I wasn't hateful or cruel. On the contrary, I believe I was as polite and sincere as someone in my position could possibly be.

(snip)
And if you don't give up on counseling, if you make the strongest and truest effort you can every moment of every day, eventually the time will come when you will be able to function on your own. It is that point in time that your children look forward to. They want you in their lives, but they do not want your rage, self-pity, addictions, or the fear that you’ll try to harm them or yourself. They simply can't take it anymore, Henry. They can't take not feeling safe in your presence, and they're too young to be the comforting adult to your child.

(snip)
I want you to know and understand that I am doing my very best to try to keep their routine, responsibilities, and general lives as normal as I possibly can. I am trying to keep the upset from all that has occurred from being constant drama that affects their schoolwork, and their ability to concentrate. This is hard enough for them as it is, without school being even more difficult than it has to be. We both know how important their education is, and I'm trying to protect that. I'm trying to protect them from as much pain, fear, chaos and drama as I can for a lot of reasons. Just growing up in this world is confusing and complicated and painful and difficult enough without all this extra *stuff* that makes it so much harder for them to succeed.

I'm sorry, but the kids need to feel safe, secure, and stable. Every child deserves that. You couldn't give them that, and it will take a lot of sincere hard work on your part with your doctor and psychiatrists before you can. A father needs to be a strong leader whose wisdom can be counted on to make good choices and decisions, and right now, the kids are stronger than you are. They hope, and I hope for their sake, that you will do what you must to find the strength to make the choices a good father makes, and on a permanent basis.

And please understand that, while I wish you no harm, protecting my children and giving them as much peace, harmony, stability, and normalcy as I possibly can is always going to be my first and foremost goal. I'm trying my best to make all decisions with their present and future in mind. I want them to have the very best possible chance at normal lives in their childhood so they can make good decisions and choices in their adulthood. I am not just thinking of their today and tomorrow, but their entire lives and the lives of my future grandchildren, as well. So, when I am faced with a choice between what you want and what my children need, their needs are going to win, every single time. I know that you love them, so I know that you will understand that this is for the best.

I'm going to give you the best advice I can, for their sake and for your own:

Do what you have to do to become a well person and a good father. In the meantime, I will do everything in my power to take the best possible care of them in every way (physically, financially, mentally and emotionally), be supportive of them, help them heal and get through this. They are both seeing counselors, which is helping them to deal with what’s happening with you and the fact that they can’t have you physically present right now.

I understand that you want to see them, want to talk to them more, but forcing them to talk to you because you want it isn't going to help them. What they need is a father who understands the importance of always putting ALL of his children's needs before his own desires. Empty promises that you'll quit drinking, try harder, and do better no longer work, Henry. You have to make it a reality that they can see for themselves. The burden of proof is on you.

I've been telling you for five years that your drinking, rages, temper tantrums and threats of suicide weren't just hurting me, they were hurting your kids. I wish you had done something about it before it got this far, but now that the damage is done, there's only one way to fix it.

You can find the healing you need if you sincerely want it, work for it, and accept it when it comes - even if it hurts. It's going to take time to get there, but you have the ability to heal if you want it and allow it to happen. You have to do that before you can heal your relationship with your kids, there's no other way. It's all up to you.
*******

Considering my position, my feelings about him and what he's done not only to me but to my children for no other reason than he was determined to have what he wants... I think I was exceptionally nice. I not only did not curse him and tell him what a worthless piece of shit he is, I gave him the answer to winning his children back.

For the first time in his life, people are standing up to him and telling him "What you have done, what you are doing, is not acceptable. It's wrong, and I'm not going to let you do this to me anymore. I do not have to take your abuse simply because you feel like dishing it out, I can leave. I HAVE left, and I'm not coming back unless and until you straighten yourself out for real and permanently. I won't let you hurt me this way anymore."

Sadly, the only people standing up to him are myself and my children, and we're being ostracized for it. What a shame he comes from a family full of enablers who cover for him, pity him when they should force him to face reality by telling him the truth about his behavior. Why do they all dance around him like this?

You'd think that when he lost his first wife he'd have learned a valuable lesson, but no. You'd think that when he lost me, he'd have realized that he'd have to change his ways so he wouldn't lose anything else, but no. He still views us all as possessions he has a right to keep. Loved ones aren't there to love, they're pets he owns and can treat however he chooses. That's why he's so furious with me and still punishing me by punishing my kids - because I dared to find the courage to escape his control. And no matter how he beckons with sweet tones and offered treats, no matter how he threatens, no matter how he pretends he has changed, I won't go to him, I won't go back. I keep my distance because he will never fool me again, and that infuriates him.

Now his two youngest children have walked away from him, too. I have no way of knowing at this point whether he's going to view this as his rock bottom and start climbing, or if he'll simply sit there alternating between temper tantrums and holding his breath, punishing those who won't give him what he wants or trying to make them feel guilty for HIS pain so they'll relent, forgive, and enable. Statistically speaking, it's most likely the latter. It's possible he's lost enough that he'll genuinely desire to do what he needs to do to fix himself so he can fix his life, time will tell. For my children's sake, I hope that he gets a new perspective with the reality check and changes his ways. They'd really like to have a good, decent father.

I just wish that hope were bigger than a half-grain of sand.

 

[Gypsy]

Hope you've had your coffee.

Heard from the Ex via email again tonight. He had a much nicer tone this time. Polite. More well mannered, less accusing. That's good. He was asking me (politely) if I would please talk to the kids to see if it was okay for him to call on christmas or christmas eve.

"Gypsy"

I told you over the phone i wouldnt call the children till they wantted to talk .
But would you talk to them and ask them if i could talk to them on christmas or even chrirstmas eve .This will be the first time ive not been there with them it . I just what to them that im ok and wish them both a mary christmas . If you would do this for me i would be in your debt.
And you can tell them im doing alittle beter each day its going to talk along time to get my life back to somthing normal but im trying for them . thank you
"Gypsy"
PS
Tell them i do Love them .



Hmmm. First of all, I find it exceptionally odd that he signed MY NAME to HIS letter. I mean...huh? Weird. And I've always known he can't type or spell worth a doodle, so that's nothing new. But I mean, seriously, did he forget who is who?

I have to admit, I liked the part about being in my debt. That musta hurt to write. Of course, his being polite and bowing and scraping routine won't last long. I've seen it before. I'm SORRY, ok? I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, honestly I do... but the faith just isn't there. I've seen it entirely too many times. It's just another turn on the merry-go-round. Or is that mary-go-round? Ok ok, so now I'm just being a snarky bitch, sorry, sheesh.

Please. Stop looking at me like that. YOU haven't dealt with this insanity wheel for seventeen years, I have, I KNOW this politeness isn't real. In fact, I'd wager $100 that those polite words asking permission to cross the line drawn in the sand were not typed, but BANGED OUT on the keyboard.

Yes, I AM having a nice rant, thank you for asking.

No, I'm neither stoned nor drunk. I'm just...tired. I hate the waiting game, it's exhausting. Waiting for the Ex to flip again is a game I've played entirely too many times. I swear, it's down to a science. Although he has those nifty prescription meds now, strong enough that he requires help getting out of chairs and sounds totally drunk off his ass, so my science may be a bit off for a few months.

OK. Raise the house lights, please. This is the Bitchfest intermission, please don't go wandering off, the show will resume in fifteen minutes. I repeat, the show will resume in fifteen minutes. Please enjoy a refreshment and return to your seats by the quarter hour. Thank you.

So my gorgeous blue eyed blonde bombshell had her christmas concert at school tonight, and naturally, she played brilliantly. I watch her play, and I just well up with so much pride it spills over into tears on my cheeks. And the best part was, I made her little brother go with us. I cued him when to stand up and look at her so she'd see he was there, and she broke out in this HUGE spontaneous smile from heaven. He sat down, and I bent over a bit to speak to him (he was on the next bleacher down, eversoslightly to my right), and saw he was grinning in spite of himself.

It sounds so *nothing*, but it was a magical moment. He came, paid a tad of attention, let her see him looking at her, and it made her happy as a lark. And though he swore he'd not have a good time, he'd hate it, he'd be bored, he'd go to sleep, he'd cover his ears and chant "lalalalalalalala", when his sister instantly brightened up at the sight of him seeing her play, he felt it in his soul. That grin he tried to hide was priceless. It really meant something to him that it meant something to her that he was there.

And even better, when it was over and the students were released to put away their instruments before going home, Harley jumped down from the bleachers, ran over to her, grabbed her in a hug and KISSED HER CHEEK IN PUBLIC. ON PURPOSE. IN PUBLIC. OF HIS OWN WILL. And the happiness in her eyes multiplied by a hundred, she hugged him, kissed his cheek... and he pushed her away, wiping her kiss off as he walked the other direction. "EWWW!" And they both laughed.

You just. Don't. Know. I can die and go to heaven now.

No, wait, not yet. Christmas is coming, gotta wait until after Christmas. No, wait, then there's Harley's birthday in January. NO, wait, school starts a couple of weeks after that, and I've waited NINETEEN years to do this, seventeen since the last time I tried. I'm not dying until I've had my graduation ceremony, no way. Hmmm. Better give me at least another ten years. That way my kids will be old enough, wise enough, and experienced enough to be okay without me. Yeah, I need a minimum of another ten years. But I'll take twenty-five.

*lights dimming, coming up* Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way back to your seats. The show will be resuming in five minutes. Thank you.

FINALLY got to talk to Jessica today, boy oh boy is that girl a busy one. Every day this week she's been in some other office in some other county. Thanks to voicemail, she knew what was up, and she'd already spoken to a jobsite about me. She's going to call them back Monday and see if she can arrange an interview that afternoon. Minimum wage isn't even peanuts, it's peanut dust, but it'll still be more than what I've got right now. All that matters now is that they HIRE ME NOW. NOW. NOW. But only for a little while. 'Cause, you know. Class. January. School. WOOOHOOOO!!

*ahem* Sorry.

I made out a lil christmas list this evening, stuff I'd like to get for the kids. Some nice warm coats. Houseshoes for Harley, since last year's no longer fit. A warm, snuggly, soft robe for Alyssa. I'd like to find her one in my favorite style - zip up. The ones with belts just won't freakin stay shut, damnit. My mom bought me a robe when I was sixteen, a robe I loved, adored, cherished, and wore until it was literally a rag. It was purple terry/cotton with a cute lil hood and white satin piping. It zipped up the front all the way to the neck, and the zipper pull was a treble sign. Did I mention I worshipped this robe? Mom tried to get me a new one when I was 25, and I wouldn't have anything to do with that stupid belted pain in the ass. Constantly readjusting myself is not my idea of relaxed comfort, mmmkay? Because tits this big just take toooo much work to keep inside those things. Besides, when you sit down in a belted robe, they split open at the bottom and your legs get cold. Brrrr. Hello? I'm supposed to be staying WARM here. Give me a zipper, or give me a blanket!

Oh yeah, tangent, sorry.

So I'd love to find my daughter a robe like the beloved purple rag I miss so dearly. Because after all, the kid is so much like me in so many ways it's freakin eerie. Thank God she's not exactly like me - she's got a helluva jump start on quite a bit I've only just learned. Yes, darlin, you're welcome and I love you too. So, wish me luck. The robe? Yeah, the robe, hello, pay attention, try to keep up.

Rechargable batteries. No, no no...those were mine. For the CLOCK, oh my god is that ALL you people ever think about?

Jeesh, I give up. I can't work under these conditions.

Hope you finished your Sprite.

The Ex had better keep his ass in Florida, far away from us. He can call them, I'll let them talk to their father if they want to. But he'd just better NOT spoil this holiday, I mean it. I'm not kidding. I've already broken out the Bitch Mode once today, and I'm seriously not afraid to do it again. There's gonna be kinder tones in this house, more courtesy, respect, and manners...and by GOD that man is not going to ruin this christmas. Not this year. Not this time. I forbid it. This is the year I got back the spirit he stole from me, and I intend to keep it.

No I don't feel sorry for him. I pity him, but that's a whole different thing. He SO made this bed, all by himself. I'm not fixing his messes anymore, it's not my job. Let his daddy console him.

Me and my kids are going to have a good, good christmas. I'm going to have my temporary job so we can make it the next few weeks. I'm going to school in January, and sometime in the coming months I'll have FULL PHYSICAL CUSTODY of my kids. I have more people I call friends than I can shake a stick at, even though 99% of them aren't in shaking distance. I have two good close friends that are close enough to glimpse now and then, my sister, my kids...with moral support like that, how could I possibly not touch every single one of my dreams? My house is a mess and my pockets are empty, but my heart is FULL. My life is good, and it's getting better with every single day. I am more blessed than most simply because I choose to see the blessings all around me, and the more I count them, the more there are to count.

Holy shit, you mean that annoying little phrase WORKS? "Well, I know times are tough, but you just have to count your blessings, and things will get better."

This is the secret of life, right here. I bet it's the thing that Stoners figure out for all of two and a half seconds before it gets away from them, and they're all sad. "Man...I just had it! I had the meaning and the secret of life all figured out! But now I can't remember..."

Where was I? Oh yeah, thanks.

He can annoy me, downright piss me off. He can throw a fit, act a fool, put on a show for sympathy, destroy himself and everything around him, but he can't touch me. I have my kids, we're safe, we're happy, we're blessed, we're loved, and our future is brighter than it has ever been before.

Did you see that? His bulb just burned out.

 

[Gypsy]

I'm almost in a daze

I've not been this excited about Christmas since I was a kid - a LITTLE kid. Not since before the Bitch came into my life at the tender age of seven have I felt this childlike glee. Jingle bells on my toes, the urge to hug every soul I see and wish them a Merry Christmas!, feeling like the world has been renewed... because in a way, it has been.

I have a faith in humanity that I haven't felt in more than five years, more than twenty. The spirit of Christmas had nearly died forever in me, stomped out from too much unfairness, bitterness, too much knowledge of the human condition of selfishness, greed, and apathy.

But now instead of the cold, bleak hopelessness I'd been facing, I see an outpouring of love, generosity, sharing, caring, a joining together of people not to rant or rave, to vent or poke fun, but to give something incredibly special to others. I am in awe. I really need to try to stop welling up with tears every time I think about it, because my kids are starting to think I've gone loony like their father.

Since I threw my Ugly Bitch Mode Temper Tantrum just before Alyssa's concert last Thursday afternoon, things have been even nicer around here. I know siblings bicker and carry on, but my GAWD it was getting out of hand. I couldn't stand it anymore, truly I couldn't. After throwing my fit and slamming my bedroom door, I came back out and sat down in the living room. My daughter approached me, and apologized. Then she started making excuses. "He's so much like Dad in some ways, and it's just HARD to deal with so much right now..." I cut her off. "And what was your excuse six months ago? A year ago? Two years ago?" That brought her up short. "You're right, Mom. You have the patience of a saint. I don't know how you don't kill him every single day. I don't know how you don't kill me half the time. I have so much respect for how you're able to be patient with us. I try to be nice to him, but.." I cut her off again. "Look. It's killing me to see the people I love most be so hateful to each other every single day. This is our home, this is our family. I love you both more than anything else in my life. I know you love each other, I KNOW you do. All I want is a little common courtesy around here - for everyone, not just me. I want respect - for everyone. A kind tone of voice instead of the venom I keep hearing. I'm sick of the fighting, and I meant what I said. Every time I hear a nasty tone come out of your mouths, I'm going to remind you that I AM THE QUEEN BITCH around here. If you don't like me speaking to you in such hateful ways, then you will immediately desist using that tone on each other, because it's the only way I'm going to stop. I'm a mirror. I'm going to show you what I hear and see."

They were angels for four hours and they've been struggling to keep a constant civil tongue ever since, but at least they're trying. It's partly my fault. I'd been asking for more niceness instead of demanding it. I didn't want to have to be such a bitch, but I guess there are some things in life that a parent just has to take charge like a drill sergeant about. I usually don't hit that mode until I've been given absolutely no other choice.

My son is in so much trouble he can't find his way out. I'd been disciplining him since mid-term reports came out, because there was a notation that he'd failed to turn in twelve homework assignments. There is NO REASON FOR THIS. So I've been making him write sentences every night. "I will do my homework every single night." twelve times, for 25 school nights. I wanted to make a point without going overboard, wanted the punishment to fit the crime. Well, I was obviously much too easy on him.

The phone call from his teacher on Thursday informed me that he hadn't turned in homework for two solid weeks. I've been asking him every single night if he had homework, getting various answers. Sometimes he'd spend ten or fifteen minutes doing some math or something and give me my sentences, sometimes he'd say "had tests all day, no homework" and give my my sentences, and off to play he'd go. I learned that he'd been in ISS since Wednesday, was not invited to his class Christmas party, and Mr. Salyer is PISSED OFF. I can't blame him.

I haven't spanked him yet. I've been too angry. I think I still am, because I honestly fear that if I started swatting him, I'd grow angrier and hit harder until I lost control. No. I won't do that. I'll wait until I'm able to be calm, and then I'm going to absolutely wear that ass out because he LIED TO ME EVERY NIGHT FOR MORE THAN A MONTH.

I cannot abide the lying. I want to wring his little neck for it. But I'll wait until visions of murder have cleared, I will. Because while he deserves a spanking, he doesn't deserve to be beaten until bruised.

In the meantime, I've informed him that he obviously has a real problem with responsibility and laziness. So, since he hates responsibility so much, I'm going to use that for punishment. For the next two weeks, he is going to be carrying his load AND MINE. All my laundry and housework chores. Cleaning out closets, sweeping/mopping, scrubbing walls, cleaning trashcans, cleaning out the fridge, cooking, dishes, dusting. Including putting laundry away. Including folding girls underwear and bras. Including breaking out the carpet spot remover and taking care of those little messes on the living room rug.

I'm gonna work his ass off. He's going to be so happy to only have his own responsibilities again, and so eager to not have to do all my stuff along with his again. At least, that's the plan. Make it SO SO SO not worth it not to do his homework, not to lie. I think the only reason I haven't had a complete meltdown with him over this is because of all the good stuff going on.

It's so much easier not to sink into depressed despair when you know for a fact that things just aren't as bad as they were two weeks ago. I actually have a reason to put up my tree, to decorate. I have a reason to look forward to Christmas morning, and though they don't know it yet, so do my kids - in a way they cannot even conceive - yet.

The kids and I spent all day yesterday rearranging furniture, cleaning as we went. The walls got their yearly scrub. The tree looks very nice. I'm going shopping today to buy wrapping paper, bows, tape, and a few other things. I need to get hold of a local friend and ask for hiding storage - they haven't been home when I've called.

My kids have family, near and far, on both sides. Those are the people who are supposed to care, to love, to help, you know? Haven't heard a word from any of them, not a single word. Not grandparents, aunts or uncles. Not even their older sister and brother. None but my sister and mother have even expressed concern over whether my kids are going to have a Christmas, and they're totally unable to help, though they want to.

Yeah, I've been worried and horribly depressed about the fact that there wasn't going to be a single gift under our tree. But not anymore. The crushing weight of the fore-knowledge of a child's worst christmas nightmare has been lifted from me, and I can't seem to stop crying about it. I never imagined something so wonderful could happen to me, to us.

Kindness on such a scale is unheard of in my life, and I don't even know how to express my gratitude and love. Thank you. Just...thank you, from the very bottom of my heart. Maybe after two years in a journalism program at college I'll be able to come up with better words, but right now I'm simply too overwhelmed to think of any. I will never forget this.

 

[Gypsy]

I'm still alive.

I know I'm horribly horribly behind in my update of Christmas. I have four, count them FOUR partially written entries saved on my hard drive. I say partially only because I cannot post them - they're actually OVERLY written entries. I find myself totally incapable of keeping any of them under 10,000 characters. The editing to try to make any of them fit is proving impossible and frankly, I've been falling asleep sitting up trying to get the job done.

Perhaps tomorrow night things will go more smoothly around here, and I won't be so damned sleepy at 9 pm with kids still up and about - then maybe I can get the job done. I can't stay up until one in the ayemm to write journal entries - I'll oversleep and be late for work.

Don't believe me about the overly wordiness? Then you must be really, really new to my journal. And ask Dunsany. I cut myself off before I was finished talking to him in an email the other day, and it was still over 40,000 characters. He laughed at me and told me to channel that energy into writing something.

HAH!

Just wanted anyone who might have been concerned or waiting to know that I do intend to post about Christmas. I intend to post about my very blah New Year's Eve. I intend to post about a lot of things going on around here, I really do. I have the excessively long entries saved to prove it.

In the meantime, I'm alive and well. The kids are still alive and...well. The Ex is still alive and...the Ex. Ugh. More on that later, too.



It's been awesome around here, but sincerely stressful as well. I'm quite proud that I haven't committed murder lately, because quite frankly, I had good reason. Seriously. I'm not kidding. And no, this isn't about the snark I've been dealing with at work (yet another subject). And no, I'll never tell you what it's really about. Why? Because while it's very much my issue, it is also not my issue - it's someone else's. It affects my life in every way, but to talk about it here would be to invade the privacy of another, and I won't do that.

Suffice it to say that a certain someone in Gypsy's world (ahem, formerly in Gypsy's world) deserves to be beaten to death with a crowbar, but because I'm Gypsy and not someone like.. let's say Mr. Silent... they live. Mr. Silent would have already plotted a way to kill them and get away with it. It is that insidious. I shit you not.

And yeah, lots of snark at work. Enough of it that, when it piled on top of what I was already dealing with (privately, silently, chin high without a trace of stress showing, I might add) I actually cried at work. God, I was so embarrassed, but my stupid eyes would not stop leaking. No matter how tough I get in my old age, I guess I'm still just a stupid girl underneath.

While I was dealing with all this incredibly taxing stress, Randy was out of pocket, doing over the road runs instead of local. It would have helped a lot to just be able to sit and talk to him a bit, but it wasn't possible. I hadn't realized just how much he'd become part of my support system until the past couple of weeks. I really needed my best friend, and there was simply no way he could be here.

I've survived it without being arrested, things are better at work, and Thursday I go to my appeals hearing. On the eleventh I take my ASSAT's. The thirteenth, classes begin. Only good things coming. Don't think for one second I've forgotten that.

More tomorrow. Or the next day. Or maybe this weekend, I don't know. Hold on to your socks, though, because when I finally get it all together, it's possible I'll post three or four back to back. Consider yourself warned.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, that it was as special as mine was. And I hope everyone had a fabulous New Year's (eve), surrounded by friends, family, and fun.

So much to say, so few hours to sleep. I work damned hard for my $5.15 an hour, let me tell you. Not that I mind, really. It's honest work.

On that note...time for bed. Last one out, shut off the light.

 

[Gypsy]

Shoot me with a cork gun and get it over with.

Because I won't lie. I still don't have those posts edited. I'm beginning to fear I never ever will.

Weekends without the kids were a lot different. I had all this time to sit in a quiet house that was too quiet, and try to distract myself from the fact that they weren't here by chatting on IRC and writing on the IRC. Now that that doesn't really happen, the only time the house is quiet enough for concentration is after they're in bed. And I've been sleepy since 7 pm.

Not that my journal entries are such award winning material that I require massive concentration to write them. It's just that the last thing I need is the kids snooping over my shoulder while I write. Ahem. NOT a good idea, that. So every time they walk in the room, I have to stop writing and either switch applications (I'm really just playing this stupid word game, see kids? No, I'm talking to Thomas. Nooo...I'm reading email.) or turn my monitor off completely.

My daughter's friends actually stood in front of my computer and read an email I was writing to Dunsany while I was standing across the room watching them, one day. I'd gotten up momentarily, and left the monitor on. They knocked on the front door, came inside, then boldly stood and read the email-in-progress right in front of my eyes. I stopped what I was doing, marched across the room, and shut the monitor off. "Excuse me," I said in a Haughty Aunty tone, while glaring directly into their eyes. "My email is NOT your personal reading material."

I guess it's a good thing I hadn't been writing a journal entry. They'd have memorized the web address. NOT GOOD.

Anyway. Summary:

Christmas was fantabulous. Anyone wanting more details may email me with any questions, I'll be happy to answer. Just don't hold your breath expecting me to stay under 10,000 characters if I feel wordy when I reply. Mmmkay? I even *think* about Christmas and tears well up in my eyes, I get mushy and gushy and squishy and simply cannot shut the fuck up.

Moving on, for now:
The people at work *seem* to be determined to make me hate it there so much that I'll voluntarily quit. Know what? I'm gonna.

I had my Financial Aid appeals hearing at the college today. I started to type "this morning" but that would have been sadly innacurate. I was there at 8:30 AM, but it was long past lunch before they called my name. And then I ended up with the silliest inner conflict for about ten seconds. It went a little something like this:

Director of Financial Aid: Gypsy?
Me: Here! (walks over to her)
DoFA: (hands me a sheet of paper) "You've been reinstated. Follow these instructions."
Me: (letting out breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding in one big goosh, followed by a smile) "Thank you!"
DoFA: (watching my reaction carefully, then smiling the first smile I'd seen cross her face all day long) "You're welcome."

As I walked away, I thought "I didn't have to go in!" with absolute jubilee, because the only people getting called in to face the committee were the people whose reinstatement was being denied unless they managed to change the committee's minds with the answers to their questions.

And then I looked at the time and realized how long I'd been waiting for my name to be called. "I waited that many hours and I didn't even have to go in?!" I thought, peeved for about a tenth of a second. But it was over and I'd been reinstated! I only barely restrained myself from some very embarrassing physical display of elation. "I didn't have to go in!" I laughed.

I spoke to one of the women seated at a table near the door to the conference room, not long before my name was called. She told me that as people left, she'd been asking them what it was like in there, and their end result. Seventeen out of the first twenty had been told that after they pay for six hours in advance and ace the classes, their financial aid would be reinstated. Six hours is $700 or more. Only three people in the first twenty had had their financial aid reinstated, and all of those three had been ushered inside to plead their case to twelve people.

I didn't have to plead my case.

Unlike most of the people I discussed it with today, I wrote a smashing good appeal statement letter. Where theirs had been a small paragraph, maybe two - mine was three pages. THREE PAGES. Details that painted a very clear picture of Then, and lots of reasons and ways that Now is much different were a huge part of that statement.

Plus when the VP of student affairs forwarded my email to the Director of Financial Aid, she got ALL our correspondence, and the word from him that he'd already cleared my debt - which also happened before I met a soul in person.

I've believed since my debt was cleared that as long as I showed up and went through the formality of this hearing, it was a done deal. Since the moment I mailed off that appeal letter, I've felt it in my gut so strong that I just went on the assumption it wasn't an issue at all. As long as I showed up today, I was going to be reinstated. And I was!

Still, there was that moment when my name was called where it wasn't quite a done deal yet, and I knew it was possible I was wrong. But I wasn't. It happened almost exactly the way my instincts had told me it would. My instincts failed to warn me to bring breakfast along, 'cause I was gonna be waiting more than a couple of hours, though.

My instincts are telling me a lot of things, lately, more than they've ever told me before. I like what they're telling me about school. I know with absolute certainty that it's going to be hard, and at more than one point I'm going to want to throw my hands in the air and yell "I can't do this I QUIT!" but I won't. I'm scared I won't be able to live up to all the expectations, yet I know that my dream of graduating is a reality to come.

The other things my instincts are telling me aren't all things I want to hear. Things like, no matter how long I might stick with my current job, no matter how hard I might work, I'm always going to be an outsider. And that's always going to make me unhappy. So, Tuesday when I go back to the college to take my placement exams and talk to a financial aid counselor, I'll be signing up for work-study immediately. And I hope hope hope that this becomes a very good thing. If it doesn't, I'll sit down and figure something else out, I guess.

There are other things too, but I think I'll leave those particular whispering voices of instinct inside my own head for safekeeping, for now.

I want to hug everyone, and say "Thank You". Thank you for all the moral support, the belief in me, the encouragement. I don't think I would have had the courage to even try to go back to school without it. I don't know that I would have ever again even given it more thought than mere wishing, if the seed hadn't been replanted. That seed was replanted right here.

If I had known, when I started this journal, what I know now... I would have named it Gypsy's Garden. Because, this is where good things grow.

 

[Gypsy]

Buenas tardes!

I am offically a COLLEGE STUDENT!!

And you know what? I'm loving it. It's not begun to get hard yet, and I know this. I know the first day doesn't really count because it's all "here's the syllabus, what's your name?" stuff. But I couldn't have been happier to be there if I'd tried.

This semester I'm taking Spanish I, American History since 1877, Icky Math, and College Writing. All my classes are on Tue-Thurs except Writing, which no matter how I tried, I could not squeeze into an open slot on Tue-Thurs. The only slot open on those days would have forced me to change my math class, and the only open slot left for math was on MWF. So no matter what, I was going to have one class on MWF. But that's okay.

I'll have my three classes on Tue/Thurs, then whatever appointments are scheduled, then head home for Mommy Duty and homework. On MWF I'll have one class in the morning, then work five hours, then head home at 4 pm.

I no longer work in the medical records dept. of the clinic - yesterday was my last day. The supervisor told me as soon as I clocked in that she needed someone who could work more hours. Whatever. I didn't really want to be there anyway, I just wanted to stay until I could start a work-study position so I wouldn't have my measly income interrupted. But it's survivable.

My history book weighs at least ten pounds. I'm seriously considering taking it to the doc's office with me on Monday just so I can put the frelling thing on the scale. That bitch is gonna kill me, lugging it up that steep hill and up those stairs. Holy chit. That class is in A building, all the way at the top of the hill - where students are not allowed to park. And it's on the third floor. Now, yes, there IS an elevator, but I refuse to take it unless I'm half dead. You can't benefit from the exercise climbing stairs gives if you're riding an elevator. And since I've already lost EIGHT pounds since Dec. 23rd when I started working (my brand new pants are already loose enough that they fit unattractively), I don't want to backtrack and start gaining again. However, I will weenie out on occasion, if my back signals that I truly should.

Mom emailed me Thurs night, obviously wanting to carry on an email conversation throughout the evening. I wrote back that I had homework to do - chapter 19 in history (must read before next class) is forty pages long. And that's just history. So what does she do? She frelling calls me, just as I'm settling down with my book. And then my kids were constantly Mom'ming me the rest of the night, until I was so sleepy I couldn't read.

Okay, so reading in the living room with the phone plugged in isn't going to work, I see. So in the future, I'll be unplugging the phone and going to my room with my books. I may also have to go into Slight Bitch Mode to make the statement "If you are not bleeding, if nothing and no one is on fire, you'd better not disturb me until I come out."

I've taken to turning the tv off constantly. At first, they'd walk back in the room and just turn it back on. So I'd pick up the remote and click it back off. "MOM!" they'd protest. So we'd go through the whole "nope, don't wanna hear the Noise Box" conversation again. After a week of the same arguments over and over again, I warned them that if they didn't start asking my permission to turn it on, if they griped when I turned it off, I would cut the fucking cord completely off it. One of these days, they're going to make me mad enough to actually do it.

Read a book. Work a puzzle. Visit a friend (when you're not grounded). Listen to music quietly in your room. Clean something. Play cards, play a board game. Talk to each other, quietly. Get the hell over it.

They've both started doing more chores around the house with fewer complaints. Including assists with making dinner. Harley is quite proud of his newfound grilled cheese sandwich making skills. Alyssa made spaghetti the other night, although she was using sauce I'd already made and frozen. I just wish they could drive to the store and do the damned shopping for me. *grin*

Now, I'm either going to take a nap or drive half an hour to catch my nephew's ballgame. I want to do both, and the coffee hasn't energized me. Too much junk and caffeine the past 30 hours has made me feel sluggish and tense. I need to drink about three gallons of water between now and bedtime, which will not be easy since I'm not hot.

The only useful purpose smoking pot ever served, for me, was that it made me incredibly thirsty, and I'd flush my body within hours. I never was one to get the munchies then sleep. I didn't want food when I was high - ugh. No. Nor could I sleep, even if I wanted to. No, when I got buzzed, if I was alone, I'd clear a space in the living room, put on some music, and dance... and drink tons and tons of water in between peeing. I used to think the euphoria/high made me relax. I look back now, and I realize that it was really that I was flushing the soda and crap out of my body, and THAT'S what made me feel better.

So what I really need now is a way to make myself thirsty like that when I'm sitting and reading or doing homework, in a slightly chilly house. Or while I'm watching a ballgame. Or whatever. I can't be cleaning house or exercising or dancing all the time to make myself hot and therefore thirsty.

Any solutions for this would be highly appreciated. Especially if they really work. Oh. And please, no suggestions of anything that require the imbibing of any kind of tea. I hate tea more than I hate cranberry juice, and that's saying a lot.

Hasta luego!