Sunday Reflections....

I use to think as we got older things would just come to us naturally.  That understanding of the world would be laid at my feet somehow.  As I get older though I find I understand less not more.  I am not gay so I can't say I understand how those folks are feeling so I try to limit my commentary to the situations at hand.  I really don't understand why someone wants to be classified by their sexual preferences though.  I don't look at someone and say they are gay or straight.  I look at them and say they are human. They are one of God's children.  Now there are some I look at as evil, twisted and benevolent, but it has nothing to do with their skin color or their religion or their sexual preference.  It is solely based on my perception of their actions.  I also have friends I love dearly who say things about christian s and the religious beliefs and it insults and hurts me badly but I put it aside because I know they are using generalizations of a few and would never intentionally set out to hurt me.  I do consider myself of christian faith.  I do not profess to be saved but I feel like I'm a lot closer than some of the people I've heard profess it for themselves.  My grandfather was a baptist minister and died when I was very young.  From what I've heard he would never profess himself as knowing he was saved but believing beyond a shadow of a doubt.  One may ask what is the difference but then I say if you have to ask you wouldn't understand if I explained it.  He also, although he may not agree with their choices, would never treat anyone as anything less than a child of God.  As of late I have been trying to reconnect with my inner spirit and release some of my inner demons.  I have been reacquainting myself with my family and with my own values.  I pray nightly for strength and to not hold hate or anger in my heart.  My ex sister-in-law is a troubled soul. One I hope, but fear is lost beyond help.  She messed up her life.  She can't possibly be happy with the way she's living and the things she's done.  She lies like it's the water of life and she'd die without it.  She worships the almighty dollar.  As we know one can't have two masters so if she worships money she has no ground to kneel and worship God.  She uses her children and makes sure their little lives are constantly in turmoil.  She's up to her old tricks as we speak and wants to regain custody of the son she so eagerly accused of so many wrong doings and cast aside.  She tosses out threats and hands out definitions of things she doesn't even understand.  She's using a new person in her life who will someday regret ever meeting her.  I love her but I don't like or respect her anymore.  I would give everything I own for my niece and nephew.  I would lay down my life for them.  I hope they know that.  I also hope they realize that their dad loves them and puts them first.  The courts so far have believed the rhetoric she's tossed but every dog has it's day.  Karma is real and time will have it's say.  No one in my family needs to life a hand.  God sees how we treat little children and he's told us all that there are none greater than the little children.  To hurt them is to hurt him.  This morning I find I just want to vent and if you want to listen that is great.  If you don't I understand.  My ex-sister-in-law claims I am harassing her  because I sent her one email saying I love her and I don't wish to be in the middle but she needs to stop or I will be.  That isn't harassment but is simply a plea for her to come to her senses and stop hurting her children and using them.  I should know by now though that is a train that left the station never to return.  So many lies, so little time in her world.  To live like that to me would be worthless.  So the world never finds peace because of the likes of those who would be selfish.  For those that feel troubled today I ask the Lord to bring you peace.  Know that there is at least one out here that believes in you and your right to live in peace.  One who won't judge you but will wish you the best life you can have.

Another Day, Another Surgery...

 

I have to tell you I am really getting tired of surgeries, but I understand that the good Lord above has his reasons for everything we go through whether we realize it or not.  It's taken me a few days to get used to this voice recognition software and it's not perfect so I have to do some one handed corrections but it is what it is and they say slow and steady wins the race.  I had surgery on my left hand on Tuesday, February 17, 2015 at Fort Wayne Orthopedics surgery clinic on West Jefferson Boulevard in Fort Wayne, Indiana.  I can now completely understand the term "Drive Thru Surgery".  I got to the clinic at 750am.  I wasn't taken back to prepare for surgery until 8:30.  Everyone in there seemed really nice and the nurses listened to me.  I mean I told them right up front no IV in the back of my hand so she never tried.  I was given warm blankets and made comfortable as I answered the same questions over and over that it seems to me I've answered twelve thousand times.  I had told both the doctor and the nurses at the hospital that I knew my body and that I wanted Vicodin to take home because it works for me.  I told them I would freak out if I woke up in surgery.  The anesthesiologist   told me that he understood and had no problem with that but that it would all be up to Dr. C.   Out of courtesy for the doctor I will not put his name in here past the Dr. C.  Dr. C came by to check on me a after 9:45 and marked my hand for surgery.  He seemed very caring as he tucked me and told me we needed to keep me warm and that he'd see me in surgery.  Now for a little back story on this, it had been like pulling teeth to get much out of the doctor in the first place.  He had sent his nurse practitioner  in to see me when I did my follow up after surgery.  She barely said two words to me walked out and in came a nurse to schedule me for surgery.  I took a step back and started asking the nurse questions.  She didn't have answers and went to get the nurse practitioner who also didn't have answers so they went and got Dr. C who I was supposed to be seeing in the first place.  I asked him a bunch of questions and my understanding when I left was that we were going to remove the cyst, fix the carpel tunnel and nerve and release the trigger thumb.  I would be off two to three weeks and that was that.  They actually wanted to set me up for same week two days later for surgery, but I had to get things ready and give work a little notice so I went for the next week.  So back to the surgery.  I was wheeled into the surgery room at 10:45am.  I remember them washing my arm and not being able to feel it.  It felt in my mind that it was laying on my stomach but I was watching them wash it so I knew it could be.  I saw the doctor walk in and then there was nothing until I woke up at 11:10am in surgery.  I was disoriented and I noticed the clock and then I noticed the blue curtain out to my left.  I was so very cold and I started moving my feet trying to adjust myself on the bed.  The doctor who had put me to sleep stood there to my right and kept asking me what was wrong.  I told him I was cold and freaking a little bit.  He told me to lie still and that they were almost done.  I remember them removing the curtain and putting this heavy object in a sling and placing it across my chest.  It was my arm, but it felt so heavy almost sand bag like.  They wheeled me out of the OR and to a room with lounge chairs.  A nurse helped me off the gurney and into a chair and put a blanket over my lap and raised my legs.  She asked me if I would like something to drink and proceeded to get me a diet coke.   She came back with a basket of snacks.  I took a pack of Lorna Dunes and she opened them for me.  According to the clock on the wall it was 11:25.  My dad walked in a couple of minutes later and the nurse told him to pull the car around.  By 11:40 I was in the car and on my way home.  The nurse said they had seventeen surgeries scheduled for last Tuesday.  So in and out quickly.  When I got home I opened the pain meds and the doctor had not listened to me, which didn't surprise e considering he hadn't listed to me from day one.  I had Tylenol Codeine 3's.  I had never had them so I thought why not I will give them a chance.  Well they barely touched the pain and I barely slept so I called and they wouldn't prescribe me anything else unless I went in to see them, which to me was OK since I had these blisters that had come on the three fingers on my left hand.  They hurt like burns.  It did aggravate that the doctor didn't trust me but I figure someone had burned him.  I went in to see him the next day and he acted like he had never seen blisters like the ones on my hand.  I couldn't believe that but I went along with him.  I knew he was lying to me.  That isn't something you really want a doctor to do now is it.  I mean from my research and asking three different nurses I know I found out that these blisters are common in orthopedic surgery.  Dr. C told me I was probably allergic to the dye.  Hello you used that on all of my arm and only on my fingers?  I knew that was a crock.  So he called over a lower dose Vicodin than I asked for a 325 mg  and I'm used to 500.  I told him I only really wanted them to sleep.  Again big sigh... so I took two at night before bedtime and one once when my hand really hurt.  I didn't take any yesterday and I still have lots.  I am not a junkie.  I just wanted a doctor to treat me the way I should have been treated.  The hand looks good and it looks like he did a good job with the exception of the blisters which probably came from tape or from circulation loss and swelling.  I'm just not sure what to think of this guy.  I think he's a good guy but I hate doctors who don't listen to their patients.  Yes there are crooks and cheats out there but to just assume that I am one?  I would probably never use him again for that reason alone.  I trust my doctors and I want my doctors to trust me and when I go see them I respect their titles and the hard work it took to get there but they work for me when I go seem them and I think I deserve some respect from that angle myself.  Anyway here's hoping there are no more surgeries in my near future.   



Empowering My Inner Soul!

Believe and it shall be… whether you believe this or not there is great truth in this.  One cannot fix one’s issues and problems in their life until they first step up and believe they can change and acknowledge that they alone can do that for themselves.   No one or anything has power or control over your life unless you allow it.  This is something I had long forgotten and had to search deep inside to remember and pull to the surface. I’ve found I have always been good at giving advice and listening and helping others but I had forgotten how to help myself.  I had forgotten how to follow my own path and live my own life.  I am now and I’m getting happier each day with that decision. It’s a very long road to fixing a life of service to become a life of living.  So old man winter has found us.  It affords us a lot of days inside where we can sit and muddle and wish for the sunshine and outdoor play or where we can make plans and prepare for an adventure that is yet to come.  The choice is ours?  Which should we choose to follow?  Two roads diverged…   Don’t they always.  Life is so full of choices and possibilities. I think our society has forgotten that.  We’ve grown soft.  We allow the government to just aimlessly dictate what will happen now and in our futures.  I thought we were a democracy; however, what I see as of late is a dictatorship.  Worry not for what you have no power to change is a wonderful saying, good thing our forefathers didn’t listen to that though.  We all have the power to change; most of us just don’t believe that anymore, have lost our hope or our way or are too scared or selfish to try.  One voice is usually what makes the change.  One person stands and yells from the tree tops or the mountains for all to hear and most often they do listen. It’s easier for most to just sit back and do nothing.  You can write your congressmen, and all the other politicians.  You can write your media.  You can talk with your friends and your neighbors.  You can be a light.  Everyone can sit back and say I’m just one person so what can I do.  So many people who changed the world were just one person.  Believe in yourself.  Believe and it shall be.  Life your life so that your head is held high, not hung low in sorrow and same. After all Martin Luther King was not the only one that had a dream.  I am empowering my inner soul this year.  That is my goal for me.  I don’t do resolutions for the New Year.  I find they only set one up for failure.  Instead I try to set myself a goal to aim for.  I make it something I know I can do and I believe in it.  This is how I will empower me.  This is how I will begin the second half of my life.  The sun is out today.  Spring will soon be here with fresh beginnings for everyone.  New life, new love, and new hope will flower and bring us another summer of possibilities.  Here’s to 2015!  I hope it’s a blessed and happy year for all.

1983

Many countless hours of my youth were spent alone staring out windows. Wasted time contemplating the difference between reality and the dream world to which I felt I existed. So many things I had been sheltered from. I felt very ill prepared for being an adult. I felt lost. Life wasn’t at all like “The Brady Bunch” or “The Walton’s”. There were no knights in shining armor riding to rescue me from the dragons that lay ahead in my life. I know the teenage to adulthood years are always complicated but somehow I felt disconnected from the rest of the world. I feel with the way the government and schools now baby kids and caudal them with everyone wins and nothing’s every wrong they are going to be a large number of children growing up such as I felt. I wasn’t sheltered that much at school but my parents had done everything they could to keep me from seeing the world in an ugly light. Not something I blame them for. They did what they thought was best; however, I was not prepared when at sixteen working my first job I met a woman who didn’t like me and was very blatant about it. I wasn’t prepared for the language or the pictures or the lack of caring that seemed to be for my well being as an employee. The year was 1983 and that was a rough year for me. It was a year that sent me on many years of self-doubt, reflection and yes even depression. 1983 in so many ways is the year that sticks out most in my mind. We all have that year we feel turns us around and leaves us a little if not a lot lost. This was mine. I found out so many things about the world that summer. Most and foremost I found myself hating my body. I wasn’t really that large for my size but I was a little larger than most girls my age. I started a campaign to lose weight and exercise and I was going to do it right and be healthy. I needed to do that. I thought somehow in my mind this woman disliked me for who I was that I saw in the mirror. Looking back today I think she was just bitter in a nowhere job she had for a long time. She didn’t like me because I was young and full of promise where she had withered and lost hope. I understand it now. I wish I had understood it then. Somewhere in September of that year as I went back to school my dad’s mother was admitted to the hospital with stomach issues. She also had a bad heart. This was nothing new though. My grandmother had been in and out of hospitals a lot and I really didn’t pay it much attention at first. My dad went to see his mother in late September without us. She was still in the hospital and seemed to be getting worse. I remember praying for her not to be taken from us. There was so much I wanted her to be a part of. I mean graduation from high school, college, weddings and children. I didn’t want her to go away. I didn’t know what that would be like. I had never lost anyone before that I loved as I loved her. My prayers were not answered though. The day after Thanksgiving in 1983 we headed to Lexington to see her. By the time we entered the waiting room my uncle told us she was gone. Her heart was still beating with the help of machines, but she wasn’t there anymore. It was just a matter of waiting and seeing how long it took her to wind down. The law at that time in Kentucky at that time didn’t allow for her to be taken off life support until her blood pressure dropped below 28. At first I refused to go into the room and see her. I really was scared of what I might find or see. This was all new to me and it frightened me somewhat. My aunt finally talked me into it and I wish to this day I had never let anyone talk me into going into that room. I remember all the tubes and all the machines and the sound of the machine as it inflated her lungs. I remember the tears at her eyes involuntarily caused by the pressure of the machines. I remember how skinny she was. My grandmother had never been a small woman. I hadn’t seen her since early summer when she had given me a necklace passed down in the family for my sixteenth birthday. She was so pale and so lifeless laying there. No words came from me. No movement towards her to touch her or comfort her or even myself. As I stood there looking at her now lying there I could picture her on the end of the porch the last I had seen her in the summer waving good bye to us and telling us to be careful. There was so much I didn’t understand about death at this point. Boy would that change as I lost a multitude of family and friends over the next few years. We waited a couple of days but the hospital could not tell us how long it would be so we headed back to Fort Wayne. That is the first time I ever recall seeing my daddy cry. First time I guess I ever thought of him as human. Now watching him get more and more frail it seems like so long ago he was that strong man that I thought ruled the world. The ride home was quiet. Later that evening not long after we got home they called to say they had taken her off life support and she had passed shortly after. We would be going back the next day. Another trip in such a short time where I would see my daddy cry almost all the way there. The funeral home was full of family. People were laughing and talking all around the casket. Still skinny but at least without the tubes she looked more like the grandmother I remembered. I was numb as I stood there looking around. I barely remember the people with the exception of my cousin Randal and my aunts and uncles. The more I listened the angrier I got. I didn’t understand how these people could be smiling and laughing and talking with my grandmother lying there never to speak to us in this life again. It would take years before I understood that was their way of dealing with it and what they were doing was reminiscing over the memories and celebrating her life. It really was honoring her memory but since I had not been around funerals and I had never lost anyone else it didn’t sink in. So many memories from that time that seem trivial, but some things stick out. For whatever reason it appeared to me that people felt I was strong and didn’t need a shoulder to lean on. They offered support to my dad and my mom and my other family members but I sat alone behind them with a tissue and my thoughts. To this day I couldn’t tell you about the drive home and back to Fort Wayne. The only thing I recall there was looking out the window and contemplating life. Either way for me things had changed. People didn’t live forever which meant someday I’d lose my parents. I started exercising more and watching what I eat even closer. It wasn’t long till I was having contest with myself to see not how many hours but how many days I could go without eating. I would drink liquids I just wouldn’t eat food. Longest I recall going was 8 days. Funny thing is after the first day without food you really don’t’ even want it so it’s not as hard as one might think. Since I had done that without dying I soon started a habit I would keep for a few years. I would eat about every third or fourth day. The really sad thing is that when I would eat I would feel guilty like I was letting someone down. I got really skinny but no matter how much I lost it wasn’t enough for me. Still isn’t. My body didn’t feel happy with me either. On the few occasions I decided to eat real food I would have to run to the bathroom and throw it up. I wasn’t making myself do this, but I wasn’t use to eating anymore either and my body wasn’t happy either way. I got really sick before I sought the help I needed. I started seeing a counselor named Dr. Bolyard. He was a nice guy that let me talk and talk, which I needed, but I had trust issues and I didn’t trust him so I talked with him about many of my issues, but never got close to the eating issues I was having which was the main reason I had started seeing him in the first place. That and I felt lost. Somehow admitting my eating problems seemed as if it would relinquish my control and it would make me a failure at life. I saw him for over a year and never mentioned it once; however, with his talking to me about other issues I started to eat a little better. This is the first time I realized in my own mind that my eating was controlled by my mental image of myself. Good or bad that was just the way it was. As I’ve grown older I’ve learned slowly but surely that there truly are no knights in shining armor. A girl must simply learn to slay dragons on her own and forge on. It’s the structure of my life. One I’m slowly becoming content with. To say I’m happy with my life would still be a bit of a stretch but I know deep down I am responsible for my destiny, my future and my own happiness. It’s a journey I’ve needed to take for a long time. Some people learn it early, some come to it early in life but we all live or die by our own hand in one way or another. So those who support me just understand I’m a work in progress and I love you all very much for being a part of my journey.

The Crossroads of Life

I find myself struggling more and more with decisions in my life.  I thought as we got older it was supposed to be easier not harder.  It seems the older I get though the more I have to account to myself for my actions.  Regrets?  Yes I have many.  I had hoped not to have any in my life but I suppose that would be an impossible task for anyone.  We are all human; at least I assume that we are.  I have been taught all my life that it’s not a good thing for one to feel sorry for one’s self; however, sometimes I feel as if I’ve pitied myself my entire life.  I have never felt normal or as if I truly belonged and I have often wondered if that is a common feeling.  Human beings are so judgmental on everything.  This is perhaps why I feel so much more at ease with the animals in my life.  Animals don’t judge us.  They simply accept us for who we are and as they become a part of our daily lives they trust us to watch out for them and be there.  It’s not that I don’t feel loved.  I know there are people in my life who love me very much.  I know there are friends that accept me, but as much as they say it’s not an unconditional acceptance.  I’m not sure there can be such a thing between family and friends.  I mean as much as you love someone they can do things that cause you to have to move on and move forward for self-preservations sake.  That isn’t always an easy thing and I’m not sure if it hurts the one being left or the one doing the leaving more.  I’ve heard it said that time is fleeting and that it can heal all wounds.  I’ve actually seen where people have written that it’s a fact that it does.  I don’t think I shall live long enough nor have enough time for some wounds to heal though.  They go back to days of youth and I am no longer young.  I’m not saying that I’m old, though some days I feel ancient, but I am saying that youth has passed me by without even so much as a pause, a wink or a nod.  I have watched as the parents I’ve known all my life have slowly succumbed to the aging process somewhat early for people these days.  My mother trapped in her body but still with a mind that wants to be sharp and vibrant and my father to his own demons of aging and probable regrets.  I’ve always been drawn to being a care taker of people in my life.  I actually enjoy taking care of people I love.  A care taker is not an easy roll though and often it’s a thankless job. I’ve lived next door to my parents for going on fifteen years now.  It seems like yesterday.  I have thought often of fixing up my apartment and getting a care taker to live there and take care of them.  I thought I was stronger but it’s not easy to have my own struggles and be so close as to see the daily life being drained from those you love.  I also have a need to find a way to forgive myself and to forgive those in my life who I have felt have let me down or wronged me.  Too many wasted years of wondering why the closeness of family I felt in youth has slipped away.  I remember family gatherings.  I remember days and days of sitting on porches and listening to stories or on patios talking with the neighbors.  No one does that anymore.   People are too busy working to make money for more things.  Things can’t possibly be of comfort to them in the endless lonely nights.  They are caught up in the dramas and in worlds where the only person that seems to count anymore is one’s self.  I can’t say that I’m guiltless in this.  I need to make more time for friends and family that is deserving of such.   I am getting healthier now and I know longer have my issues to hold me back that I did for a couple of years.  I do have the endless hours of working though that I have done to try to pay off all the cost that was associated with them.  I’m hoping the New Year will be a good one and one of reflection.  I’m hoping to read books to help myself.  I’m hoping to find my inner strength and my inner peace and to get some new direction.  Yes there are many cross roads in life.  I’ve known more than my fair share of these roads.  Of all the uncertainties in life I have no doubt that I am certain I will come across many more of these roads as I travel through life’s journey.  Yes there are many cross roads in life.  That is what gives us the ability to choose our own paths.   They are the doorways to forgiveness and the pathway to change.  If one doesn’t like the path they are on there is always another one directly ahead.  So here is to the upcoming year of 2015 and to the crossroads of life.

Mother… My Saving Grace….

The days this week seem like my mood. One minute it’s gloomy and the next it’s bright and shiny. I’m working on my moods and my mental health though. I’ve known for years that the keeper of our happiness is within our own selves. With that being said I got to thinking that I don’t understand why we wait till someone is gone to immortalize them with our words about how great they are. Some people I know would never in a million years hear those words but me I love my parents both of them, but I’ve always sort of thought of my mother as a saint. She’s the most caring soul I’ve ever known. I’m forty-seven years old and I’ve only seen her angry that I can recall twice in my life. She loves everyone (with the exception of one) unconditionally. Even that one that I put in quotes my mother would do anything for. That is just the way she is. She doesn’t care that my friends are black or white, straight or gay, friends or lovers. All she knows is that they are God’s children and she’s supposed to and does love them. Now does that mean she agrees with their or my life choices? Probably not, but she won’t call you out on the carpet. It’s just not her style. She will lovingly give you advice and she might tell you she’ll pray for you and hopes you will make peace with God, but she won’t judge you herself. My mother is one that would literally give you the shirt off her back if you needed it. I’ve heard many people say that and knowing the person wouldn’t literally do it, but my mother would. Most of my friends have met my mother so I’m sure you know what a sweet and wonderful woman she is without my having to tell you. She does get hurt feelings though and for me that is hard to watch knowing that even those that hurt her she still loves, still cherishes and still wants around her as often as possible. It’s hard watching my sweet and wonderful mother go through what she is now. It’s hard to understand. She’s never cussed, never drank or smoke and has loved so openly and much. My mother has Parkinson’s. It’s an awful disease that is trapping her mind inside her body slowly. I’ve read up on it. I know what to expect as the months and years go by, but that doesn’t make it easier. In the last year the disease has hit her hard. She’s now using a walker or being led around to walk and that is when she can. She gets stuck. She knows she wants her feet to move but her mind no longer talks to her body the way it should. Sometimes you have to move them for her. She is getting hunched in her back and her vocal chords are starting to go too. She’s down to 122 pounds. Now for those that don’t know what that means only three years ago she was around 165 and a year ago she was still around 145. She can’t eat the way she should. She has a hard time swallowing and chewing. She’s basically just wasting away a little at a time. She has stomach issues as well. She’s not like she was. You sit in a room with her and she’ll talk to you for a while but often she gets that far off distant look in her eyes and fades out of the conversation. The Christmas shopping trip we did every year as a tradition no longer exists for she’s not able. She doesn’t leave the house often and only in short periods when she does. She will never likely be back to her home town of Pippa Passes, Kentucky. There are people she will never see again. Her family that lives close rarely comes to see her with the exception of my aunt Jib and her children. She longs to hear from them and see them but they don’t come see her and they probably don’t realize a thirty or forty minute trip in a car is hard for my mother these days. She goes to church rarely. It’s hard for her to talk for more than a few minutes on the phone. My Grandmother Lula’s favorite song was “Give Me the Roses While I live.” I think we have it wrong in life. We tend to take for granted the people in our lives when we should relish every moment. I miss the mother I had. I love her I still am happy to have her but it’s not the same woman at this time. She’s not going to be with us much longer would be my guess so if you want to see her you might want to put her on your busy calendars and get there. My mother was a stay at home mom when I was growing up. She was always there for us. We had home cooked meals. She read to us and played with us. She kept the house clean and our clothes sewn and washed. She kissed our boo boo’s and she held us close when we needed it. She made us soup when we were sick and she wiped our nose when it ran and even cried when she had to send me off to kindergarten. My mother was happy when school breaks came because she got to spend time with us. Do you know how disgusted I get these days when I hear mothers cheer their children growing up and moving out? My mother had two children. My brother is older than I. She adopted through love a multitude of children over the years though. She is beautiful inside and out and she always will be. So I’m saddened at the thought of losing her but it’s the cycle of life unfortunately. It’s what is meant to be. I will mourn and I will cry when she’s gone but there has never been a better person or a more Christian person that I have known in my life so I am sure when it is her time to go God will hold her close to him and comfort her. I love my mother. When I have felt lost she’s always been there. My mother… my saving grace.

The Only Way to Make Your Life Better is to get off Your Rear and Do it Yourself!

 

 

My second cousin recently posted this on his FACEBOOK page and it got me to thinking just how true this is.  I mean I have never once not gotten back to someone who's important to me and I have always made time for those I love if I can.  I know it may just be a hi or hello or a text or a phone call or even a nod on FACEBOOK but I always keep in touch with those I love in some way  For the last few months though I haven't really been spending much time with anyone.  I kind of withdrew into work and sleep.  This shouldn't be looked at as if I don't care.  I do.  I do want to make time for people but sometimes it's hard emotionally.  I've been going through a lot, especially since I had my hysterectomy emotionally.  So today I saw a counselor for the first time in years.  Yes, I've seen one before.  It felt good to talk to someone I can say everything and anything to.  I know we have friends and family that we talk to and there are some that know us so well it's scary; however, I doubt any of us tell anyone that is in our life everything.  Look at Robin Williams and his recent suicide.  Do you believe anyone really knew how badly he was feeling?  Do you believe there is anyone out there that had they known would not have done everything to help him through it?  No, I'm not suicidal.  If anyone ever says I killed myself please step up and point out this post.  No matter how bad things seem I know there is a sunny sky somewhere on the horizon.  I know that taking ones life doesn't take away ones pain, it only displaces it onto your family and friends.  So understanding that I've been fine the last while at work while I'm busy and that keeping my mind busy keeps me perked up for the most point I need to start getting back to the gym on a regular schedule and I need to get out in the world and see my friends.  I think there is nothing wrong with anyone saying I need someone to talk to.  There is nothing wrong with the recognition that you need help.  For me it was the overwhelming sadness I would feel just walking around a grocery store by myself or when I'm at home alone.  I need to find the best me and make myself happy and that is exactly what I plan on doing.  Life is precious.  None of us should just sit on the sidelines and watch it go by.  Live, Laugh and Love.  It's why we were all put here in the first place.  Love you guys.