1. I want go out of the country...Paris, London???
2. I want to write a short story and publish it on Kindle.
3. I want to make a viable income with my TPP stuff and my books.
4. I want to finish my programming course with a grade of a B.
5. I want a closer relationship with God.
1. I will work on getting a passport. First step, get/find my birth certificate.
2.I will buy a notebook and and sketch out my idea at least.
3. I will make a Camtasia Video for my book and look into hiring a marketer on upwork.
4. I will work on my homework and go to the ILC if I need help.
5. I will talk to HIM.
Saturday, March 25, 2017
I woke up this morning with a sense of peace
and I was not as sad. Actually excited about the day. I am going out to Cracker Barrel with my sister and then I have a date with my husband.
It occurred to me, that even though my life hurts right now...I still wouldn't want to be anybody else's life that I know...even those people who still have their mother's on this earth with them.
My mom is one of the greatest, and I would rather have had her for 42 years than someone else's mom for 60 or 70.
I have dreams again, like I did when I was younger.
It is weird and crazy, but my mother's death taught me that anything is possible. I would have never imagined my mother dying on March 14th, three hours into my 42nd year. I could not have seen it. It seems unreal that I went to my mother's funeral, and I spoke. It is unreal that I am here, and she is not. These things don't happen to me; these things happen to other people. I am the one who sends condolences, not he one who receives them.
But on the flip of that if I am now other people, and other people travel the world, and other people write books, and other people have successful businesses. Then aren't these things possible.
I never imagined myself still standing after such a tremendous loss. I thought I would be in an insane asylum. BUT by the GRACE of GOD, I am still here. I am still working, breathing, eating, living.
And maybe it is true, that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
I won't to live my life so that no matter what happens, I don't feel cheated.
It occurred to me, that even though my life hurts right now...I still wouldn't want to be anybody else's life that I know...even those people who still have their mother's on this earth with them.
My mom is one of the greatest, and I would rather have had her for 42 years than someone else's mom for 60 or 70.
I have dreams again, like I did when I was younger.
It is weird and crazy, but my mother's death taught me that anything is possible. I would have never imagined my mother dying on March 14th, three hours into my 42nd year. I could not have seen it. It seems unreal that I went to my mother's funeral, and I spoke. It is unreal that I am here, and she is not. These things don't happen to me; these things happen to other people. I am the one who sends condolences, not he one who receives them.
But on the flip of that if I am now other people, and other people travel the world, and other people write books, and other people have successful businesses. Then aren't these things possible.
I never imagined myself still standing after such a tremendous loss. I thought I would be in an insane asylum. BUT by the GRACE of GOD, I am still here. I am still working, breathing, eating, living.
And maybe it is true, that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
I won't to live my life so that no matter what happens, I don't feel cheated.
Monday, March 20, 2017
This pain
I want THIS pain to propel me forward; not to paralyze me. I am changed forever; I am different.
But I want the change to be a more fearless me, a world traveler, an entrepreneur, a philanthropist.
I want to have more faith; not less.
They say I have a new normal now. But I want this new normal to include closer relationships with God and with people, more faith, dreams coming true.
I don't want this new normal to be about pain and hiding under my bed.
I want to use this pain...all of it to propel me forward into a bright future.
Amen.
Everything Reminds my heart of you
Every breath, every step reminds me of you; reminds me that I miss you.
How can I live like this forever? How do I keep breathing when it hurts. When the world goes on all around me, and I am in a fog.
How can I live like this forever? How do I keep breathing when it hurts. When the world goes on all around me, and I am in a fog.
Childless by default
I am 41 years old married (for three years) with no kids. There are usually two categories that you read about people not having kids. Category 1: The people who are devastated because they are unable to have kids and Category 2: The people who are so happy that they feel like they've dodged a bullet.
I am neither of these two. I neither desperately want children, nor do I feel like I have "dodged a bullet." I don't have a peace about not having kids. I fear I will regret it later on.
I see the benefits in both, and I fear that I will regret not at least trying to have kids. If I had tried and not been successful, I think I would have a peace about it. Well, it was not meant to be, I will adapt and make the best of it. This is the type of person that I am. I adapt, and most of the time when I don't get my first choice, I adapt and find that the first choice wasn't the best choice anyway. I usually end up saying, "I am so glad; I didnt get that job that I thought I wanted. Or, Thank God, I didnt marry him (even though I was devastated when I got dumped."
In my defense, I was 38 when I got married. And then at 40 I found out my fiboids had returned (2 years after a surgery to remove them.) And it was pretty dawn big (like the size of a grapefruit big) And when I found that out, that kind of shut the door on having kids. I didnt think if I could even get pregnant, a baby and a grapefruit would not co-exist.
Now as I near 42 years on this planet, I feel a need to nurture, a need to make a difference. This is needed for my peace of mind. And I know you can make a difference without kids, but wouldnt it be so much easier if these people whose lives your making a difference in and nurturing are right in your house. And you don't have a choice whether to show up or not, so you do show up every single day, and give selflessly. Wouldnt that build character?
My pursuits seem shallow. I want to run a half marathon. I want to learn a programing language, get over my fear of flying, and travel out of the country.
And my life seems shallow. What adult stays in the bed to 11:00 am on a Saturday. There are some days when I have nothing to do, I am not really needed. I know parents will find this hard to believe, but sometimes you really can have too much free time.
I fear when I get older I will be all alone and regret it. While my friends spend Christmas with their children and grandchildren. Will I be alone and bitter?
On flip side. I do like the freedom of pursuing my shallow pursuits.
My husband and I were on the fence about having kids. Being 38 and 43 is not really the time to be on the fence. So we decided not to try. Six months into our marriage, I was out of work, and I had a lot of time on my hands. Out of my need for purpose in my life, I decided, maybe we should try. My husband, knowing how I change my mind changes likely the wind didn't really entertain it.
After I got a job, started a new career, the idea of having a child didn't seem as appealing. But every now and then I would get and urge, saying to my husband "May be we should try." But then literally a week later, "I'm so glad we dont have kids."
I am neither of these two. I neither desperately want children, nor do I feel like I have "dodged a bullet." I don't have a peace about not having kids. I fear I will regret it later on.
I see the benefits in both, and I fear that I will regret not at least trying to have kids. If I had tried and not been successful, I think I would have a peace about it. Well, it was not meant to be, I will adapt and make the best of it. This is the type of person that I am. I adapt, and most of the time when I don't get my first choice, I adapt and find that the first choice wasn't the best choice anyway. I usually end up saying, "I am so glad; I didnt get that job that I thought I wanted. Or, Thank God, I didnt marry him (even though I was devastated when I got dumped."
In my defense, I was 38 when I got married. And then at 40 I found out my fiboids had returned (2 years after a surgery to remove them.) And it was pretty dawn big (like the size of a grapefruit big) And when I found that out, that kind of shut the door on having kids. I didnt think if I could even get pregnant, a baby and a grapefruit would not co-exist.
Now as I near 42 years on this planet, I feel a need to nurture, a need to make a difference. This is needed for my peace of mind. And I know you can make a difference without kids, but wouldnt it be so much easier if these people whose lives your making a difference in and nurturing are right in your house. And you don't have a choice whether to show up or not, so you do show up every single day, and give selflessly. Wouldnt that build character?
My pursuits seem shallow. I want to run a half marathon. I want to learn a programing language, get over my fear of flying, and travel out of the country.
And my life seems shallow. What adult stays in the bed to 11:00 am on a Saturday. There are some days when I have nothing to do, I am not really needed. I know parents will find this hard to believe, but sometimes you really can have too much free time.
I fear when I get older I will be all alone and regret it. While my friends spend Christmas with their children and grandchildren. Will I be alone and bitter?
On flip side. I do like the freedom of pursuing my shallow pursuits.
My husband and I were on the fence about having kids. Being 38 and 43 is not really the time to be on the fence. So we decided not to try. Six months into our marriage, I was out of work, and I had a lot of time on my hands. Out of my need for purpose in my life, I decided, maybe we should try. My husband, knowing how I change my mind changes likely the wind didn't really entertain it.
After I got a job, started a new career, the idea of having a child didn't seem as appealing. But every now and then I would get and urge, saying to my husband "May be we should try." But then literally a week later, "I'm so glad we dont have kids."
Friday, March 17, 2017
Simple Words
I majored in English in college. I am a former English teacher, and yes I consider myself a writer.
I have a pretty extensive vocabulary, and I admit I am talented at using words. I use words to express love and gratitude, to soothe, and to self-soothe.
When I am writing I spend time cultivating my words, stressing over how to construct sentences and paragraphs to convey my feelings.
But in some instances, like today, the third day after my mother's death; only the simplest words and phrases can express this very primal and visceral pain.
I love her.
I miss her.
She is gone.
I have a pretty extensive vocabulary, and I admit I am talented at using words. I use words to express love and gratitude, to soothe, and to self-soothe.
When I am writing I spend time cultivating my words, stressing over how to construct sentences and paragraphs to convey my feelings.
But in some instances, like today, the third day after my mother's death; only the simplest words and phrases can express this very primal and visceral pain.
I love her.
I miss her.
She is gone.
Missing my Mother
My mother is one of the greatest loves of my life and I LOVE her. I speak of her in the present tense because she is still my mother and I still love her.
I know that everyone believes that they have the greatest mother in the world, but I promise you, really, I do have the greatest mother in the world.
She had a way of making me feel so special. I remember coming to visit her, and when she opened the door her face lit up with a bright smile and she looked genuinely happy and surprised to see me....even though she knew I was coming...even if I had just seen her the day before.
She told me with a straight face that I looked like Halle Berry, and that if I had voice training, I could sing like Whitney Houston. (I assure that neither of these statements is remotely true.)
If I told her I were running for president, she would have encouraged me and supported me.
Yesterday, we buried her and I am left with a huge chasm in my heart, my soul that nothing will ever fill.
I love her. I miss her.
I know that everyone believes that they have the greatest mother in the world, but I promise you, really, I do have the greatest mother in the world.
She had a way of making me feel so special. I remember coming to visit her, and when she opened the door her face lit up with a bright smile and she looked genuinely happy and surprised to see me....even though she knew I was coming...even if I had just seen her the day before.
She told me with a straight face that I looked like Halle Berry, and that if I had voice training, I could sing like Whitney Houston. (I assure that neither of these statements is remotely true.)
If I told her I were running for president, she would have encouraged me and supported me.
Yesterday, we buried her and I am left with a huge chasm in my heart, my soul that nothing will ever fill.
I love her. I miss her.
The Warmest February
February 2017 was one of the warmest North Carolina has ever seen. There were days and days of 70 degree weather, and sometimes nearing 80.
Usually, I love warm weather, can't stand the cold. But during this warm weather, my mother grew very ill, and I found out that my mother had stage 4 for cancer in her lungs and thyroid that had spread from literally only God knows (she never had a biopsy).
So the warm weather began to just feel weird and foreboding, like my world was about to be flipped upside down.
And sure enough, in the early morning hours of March 14th (1 day day after my 42nd birthday, and one day after the 12th anniversary of my father's death), my mother died.
And we buried her on March 16th (just yesterday) It was a little over 40 degrees, and I was wearing a coat that she had bought me almost 20 years ago and a sweater, the last Christmas present my dad had ever given me.
It was sunny and cold, and I was grateful.
Usually, I love warm weather, can't stand the cold. But during this warm weather, my mother grew very ill, and I found out that my mother had stage 4 for cancer in her lungs and thyroid that had spread from literally only God knows (she never had a biopsy).
So the warm weather began to just feel weird and foreboding, like my world was about to be flipped upside down.
And sure enough, in the early morning hours of March 14th (1 day day after my 42nd birthday, and one day after the 12th anniversary of my father's death), my mother died.
And we buried her on March 16th (just yesterday) It was a little over 40 degrees, and I was wearing a coat that she had bought me almost 20 years ago and a sweater, the last Christmas present my dad had ever given me.
It was sunny and cold, and I was grateful.
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