It\s real.  I'm here. In a new district busting my ass to make sure all my kiddos get what they need,  It's hard doing this and moving to a new place too.  I'm running into issues everyday.  100 or more texts between parents, teachers, aides.  It's overwhelming but I'm in love.  I always will be.  I'm exhausted every single day.  Meeting the needs of these students is overwhelming but a necessity.  They fuel me.  I'm so exhausted at this moment this is all I will put down.  Hopefully I will get better at addressing issues worth fighting for.

That cycle

There are some of us that feed off toxicity and self destruction.  What are the common denominators that make people continually put themselves in vulnerable situations? It sounds so ridiculous.  A husband that constantly beats you. A girlfriend that berates you as a man. A friend that always borrows money and never pays you back.  That guy that leaves you crying every time you see him, but you just keep coming back for more.  You get ignored, then lured back in.  Some of us have had friends that were addicts.  We just want to help.  Throwing ourselves out there, and then being surprised when they disappoint. Some of us are the addicts. What makes people so loyal to people that treat us badly?  And why do some of us insist on hurting ourselves over and over? I was thinking about cases of abuse like Elizabeth Smart, Shawn Hornbeck, Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus and Michelle Knight. In extreme cases, being mentally and physically abused causes people to be unimaginably loyal.  I hear the term "brainwashed", and the word is so minimal. It makes me laugh.  "brainwashed" seems to me that your brain has been washed, started anew.  When you have experienced trauma, your brain is definitely not cleared. Not washed.  Your brain circuits are completely unique.  Your fight or flight is sensitive.  You have decreased frontal lobe functioning, making it extremely difficult to make reasonable decisions, and react appropriately. Your level of impulsivity and sensitivity is increased due to the amygdala part of the brain. Your limbic system regulation decreases by 113% if you have experienced multiple types of abuse/trauma. Meaning you could not, without a miracle, process emotions and situations appropriately.

"The hippocampus helps to process information and lends time and spatial context to memories and events. The hippocampus assists the transfer of initial information to the cortex which works to make sense of the information. However the hippocampus is vulnerable to stress hormones, in particular the hormones released by the amygdala's alarm. When those hormones reach a high level, they suppress the activity of the hippocampus and it loses its ability to function. Information that would make it possible to differentiate between a real and imagined threat never reaches the cortex and a rational evaluation of the information isn't possible (Rothschild, 2004)."

"If a particular stimulus is misinterpreted as a threat, this leads to immediate fight/flight/freeze responses (to non-threatening stimuli). This causes this system to respond to minor irritations in a totalistic manner (Streeck-Fischer & van der Kolk, 2000)."

 (Blueknot Foundation). 

In shorthand, after so many experiences, your brain will likely fail in recognizing a threat.  You will fall in love with the worst person on earth, ignore their ridiculous behavior, and be extremely loyal to that dysfunction.  But when a genuine person comes along, you are equally confused.  Questioning their intentions, and likely mistrusting them because it's so unfamiliar. 

"Research tells us that the bodies of children who are being abused react and adapt to the unpredictable dangerous environments to which they are exposed. Stress can set off a ripple of hormonal changes that permanently wire a child's brain to cope with a malevolent world (Teicher, 2002). Through this chain of events, violence and abuse pass from generation to generation (Teicher, 2002)."
  

It's Real

I love this video because I am reminded that I am so lucky to have fought for answers.  I never gave up when the doctors said, " I don't really see anything, come back in 6 weeks if you don't feel better".  I never went back because I knew they would tell me the same thing.  
      So, after all had failed, I went to an allergy/immunologist.  He changed my life.  He immediately detected my symptoms and within 3 months I finally knew the cause of my constant discomfort and weakness.  Common Variable Immunodeficiency.  My body doesn't make the antibodies to fight anything from cancer to a common cold.  Bacteria can live in my stomach until it dies on it's own.  Thus far, my levels are not low enough that I have been sick like others I talk to online.  I am still able to fight off a lot of nastiness, but in time, I will not be able to anymore. I spoke a little about it in my last post, so I won't bore you with the same details, but basically, my IgG and IgM are low.  My C cells (white blood cells) are also off in some areas, along with a random mono nuclear light chain.  The doc will keep an eye on this as it may be a super rare form of cancer (mylenoma), but it is highly unlikely.  I am so grateful for this doctor and so proud of myself that I pressed on and demanded answers.  

Diagnosis, Grief, and Joy

     I am keeping this blog active, mostly for my own therapy.  Although I might share the link from time to time, please keep in mind that is primarily a diary.  I am a very transparent person, and I won't apologize for that.  I am not seeking attention, rather just being investigative, reflective, and compassionate (which you will see more of in previous posts).   If I have shared the link to my blog with you, it is because I care about you and you care about me.  Just beware that I am honest and maybe sometimes overly emotional and even sometimes too straightforward for some.  
     So, just an update, I was in fact diagnosed with CVID.  Although some of my antibodies responded to the Pnemonvax23, there were enough antibodies that did not respond, which means treatment is necessary.  Treatment means subcutaneous gamma globulin (plasma) every 2 weeks indefinitely as I understand it now.  Thankfully, we have been approved for a 2 month free trial while we await insurance approval.  I should be getting a call from the nurse company tomorrow to set up the dates for in home training.   I found this picture of a general set up, however, I will have 4 infusion sights until I have enough gamma magic energy to lose more weight.  So multiply everything you see by 4.

     Luckily, my immunologist feels like he caught it early, because most people are much more sick than I have been.  Many are not diagnosed until they have been hospitalized every month, and are unemployed due to the extreme fatigue.  This has been difficult for my family, doctors, and friends to understand.  I don't look sick.  I am tired all the time, which can be mistaken for laziness or depression (which I also suffer from).  Sure I've had chronic sinus infections, but it must be because I smoke.  Over the last 9 years, since I experienced early ovarian failure, I have been to many doctors,  I explain my joint pain and muscle fatigue.  I tell them I have constant diarrhea and I am always exhausted.  They do a basic thyroid test, check my gallbladder, and run the routine tests.   Everything comes back normal.  It's all in your head.  Year after year.  I have seen a neurologist for electrocution sensations deep in my brain.  He sent me to an Ear, nose and Throat doc because he truly thinks I have sleep apnea and those sensations are due to over exhaustion. Sleep study is in 1 week. It was only 5 years ago that my weight started to skyrocket, my cholesterol and blood pressure was high for the first time in my life.  I figured it was because my life had become nearly stagnant.  I could get to work, do everything necessary for my family, and finish the evening coping the best way I know how.  I talked to my doctor about my alcohol intake, assuming that was making me sick.  I cut back, ate better, but working out was something I felt to be impossible.  AGAIN, I feel like a lazy piece of crap that cannot commit, and I'm pretty sure my doctors and even my husband thought the same way.  Snap out of it, Jamie!  You were a gymnast, you can do it. But my doctor just kept switching my anti depressants/anxiety meds.  We tried a diet pill, which had no effect on my appetite or my energy.   It had only been 7-9 years ago that I was going to school full time, taking care of 2 little boys, and working 4 (yes 4) part time jobs to make up for the child support I never got.  I had a wonderful boyfriend that helped both financially and with the kids, but my days ran from 6am- 3am for years.  I could not understand how all of a sudden I felt so terrible.   

       And then I met Dr. Pinna...

Auto immune deficiency, early ovarian failure, low thyroid, and posibly sleep apnea

Although I have been known to post way to much on social media, I have decided I don't care. I have people asking me left and right if I am okay...what do the test results say...what will you do next?

I experienced post menopause at 27.  I have been taking estrogen ever since.  Over the Thanksgiving and Christmas break, and even into last summer,  I started therapy after experiencing electrocution sensations in my brain. My joints started to swell, I gained weight rapidly, high cholesterol, high blood pressure, etc... So my gyno upped my estrogen to the max, and 6 weeks later, no avail,  Still post menopausal. He referred me to a neurologist who referred me to an ENT for a sleep study.  In the meantime, I saw an allergist/immunologist who discovered that I was allergic to nothing...but my 23 serotypes were nearly absent, meaning my body can't make what it needs to fight infections/viruses. My IGG and IGM are extremely low, my b cells are also low. B CELLS ARE A TYPE OF OF WHITE BLOOD CELL . T cells are also a type af white blood cell. These are also low. At this point, i would expect a bone marrow sample.  But we'll see.

Zebra Strong 2017

     So in 2009 ish, my oldest son randomly told me he remembered being in my belly.  He said all he remembered was his zebra blankie. I  found it especially odd because he never had an animal print blankie nor did I have any animal print in my home. I thought it was strange, but not impossible because I have memories of about a year old. Most people don't believe me, but after a lot of investigation, talking to family about the placement of furniture at that time, I realized I really did have those memories. Crying in my crib, I can remember the placement of the room.  I can remember where Grandma's organ was, that my crib was by the window with no curtains, and that my mother came to bounce me back to sleep in her nightgown. There was a small chair she sat in sometimes. I can still see the entryway where the door would lead out, and I still feel scared until my mom picks me up. Today my son tells me a story of being afraid to let go of the "zebra" blankie... without any prompt of talk of babies or birth.  He says he remembers the bright lights and trying to hold on but they (doctors?) were pulling him...but "softly" he said. (I had a c-section).  I have never told him the cord was around his neck as well as the fact that he was clutching it when they did an emergency c-section after 20 hours.  WEIRD.  I tried really hard not to have any expression on my face as he told me the story...I wanted it un-altered.  I got an honest recount of my son's memory of birth.  That is big information. Now, don't knock me right away, but there is some research that suggests that babies can hold on to memory, even as young as birth. It's extremely controversial, but not out of the ball park.  Childbirth is traumatic for the baby, even in a perfect environment.  Traumatic events can glue into our memory, usually not the real, perfect, and 100% account of the event, but traumatic events certainly stick with our senses...sight, sound, touch, etc...Whatever we feel is necessary to retrieve, our minds will give us enough. Call me a hippy, but I believe my son when he says he remembers, and I believe myself as well.  I can still hear my mother humming as she bounces.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________Fast forward 8 years from Nick's memory.  That post was done. No resolution needed.  Super cool if he really did remember his birth.  Completely forgot about it.I have been diagnosed with CVID, an immunodeficiency which does not allow my body to produce antibodies to prevent infection/fight cancer cells/do it's job, etc...I am still waiting on more lab tests to confirm and deny other coinciding  conditions.  Trying to stay positive here.In the midst of my research of CVID, I found this...ZEBRAS!  Zebras are the "motto" for CVID. It's probably coincidence, but I don't think there is such a thing.  I PERSONALLY BELIEVE that Nick knew I had CVID long before I did. CVID can be a slow moving, genetic disorder that isn't diagnosed until your 40's.  I'm a little ahead of the game. Maybe his memory is my first version above, a womb that resembles a striped uterus, and he may remember it that way.  Or maybe, my first born is as empathetic and sensitive to the senses and body energy as his mama, and held on to the zebra blanket memory for another reason. 

End of Days

Over the last year, I have felt lower than I thought was possible. I adore my job.  I love my children.  I cherish my husband.  I have gained 40 pounds over the last 10 years.  I feel disgusting and unappreciated.  My chemical imbalances have made me unstable and addicted in so many ways,  Early ovarian failure and a sudden drop in estrogen certainly doesn't excuse everything. I am habitually exhausted and feel no desire to improve my situation.  To be honest, I think about suicide daily.  It is not reasonable, and would hurt so many people.  Sometimes I just want to be selfish and feel my own relief.  Sometimes I don't think it really matters if Im here or not.  There is no ending to this post...It is what it is.

Repression

My demon arises every 6 months or so, reminding me that something has happened and it wasn't was my fault.  I don't have memories, I have post traumatic stress and dreams.  It has increased over the years, and with every year that passes, I feel more and more guilt, shame, and irresponsibility in  my personal relationships.  I also regain more memory as the years pass.  That small little dick with a fat belly rubbing against my back.  I know my panties were on at first, and my nightgown always stayed on.  The room was blue. I started wearing socks to bed, as if they would protect me.  I started sleeping with the hall light on, but he didn't live in my home.  I remember being scolded for fondling my friend at 7.  I don't know why I would do that.  I remember feeling aroused when my other friend and I played babies as we breastfed them.   I regularly used my stuffed animals for stimulation. My dreams now consist of being little, naked, and helpless.  Sometimes I am an adult.  There is usually a man exposing himself, unassuming like.  That's all for now.  Good night.

The Depression Beast

I am now lifting from a 4 day depressive episode.  Unfortunately my depressive periods do not always accompany a manic episode, although I am thinking that this time, it is happening.  I know this because I want to write.  When this happens, I feel like I want to write a book.  I feel so embarrassed.  I feel so crazy.  I have been mostly inattentive and cold for 4 days.  I didn't want to talk to anyone, communicate, get out of bed, or even be alive.  I did.  It felt hard, but I crawled out of bed around noon, made myself eat around 2, wandered around the garden around 5, made dinner about 7, and felt relief when it was 10 and everyone was heading to bed.  I made it through another day.  Now it is late and that is when the negative comes out.  That's okay, as long as I can deal with it alone and no one has to witness my weakness.  If anyone was to see what happens when everyone is asleep, they would surely think I was out of my mind.  Ironically, now everyone knows.  In the last 4 days, for no reason that I can see, I hated myself.  I was disgusted with myself.  I wanted to die.  My friends say I am beautiful.  My mother says I am perfect.  My husband says nothing.  With the exception of talking about himself.  He says I love you, but I know he thinks I am weak and not good enough.  He doesn't have to say it.  I can feel it.  My son can feel it.  He is irritated by us. Maybe it is just the depression talking.  This isn't the first time I have felt this way.  I just get good at minimizing it.  I thought of taking my life everyday.  It sounds so stupid now, but it made sense 24 hours ago.  I say this not because I want people to come to my rescue, but because I don't think people understand that it is not a choice to feel like shit.  It is a dangerous thought to entertain, and I try to push it away, but it WILL NOT relent.  The only thing that keeps me afloat is my children.  They have no idea I feel this way.  I hope I can keep on, be strong for them, and be a good example.   If I were to say a prayer, it would be to myself...Jamie love yourself...you are worth it...you are okay...you are lovely.

Crazy

I had an insatiable need to write tonight.  For some reason, this makes me feel guilty.  I don't ever want to feel guilt for writing.  I've been putting it off, because I tell myself that I should be in bed.  Last week, I knew I needed to do laundry, the week before was another excuse.  My husband will be up soon and I'm sure he'll wonder what the hell I'm still doing up.  So now it is 3:58 AM.  I came across the picture above when I googled "Am I Crazy".   When I say that out loud, it's embarrassing.  I mean what will people think?  I don't think I need google's verification that indeed, I am different, but sometimes it's interesting to see what comes up.  I probably am crazy.  Why would I question myself if really I didn't already know.  "It" runs in the family.  I'd rather think of myself as a thinker.  An "out of the box" thinker. I have never felt "normal".  Maybe because my momma always told me I was special.  I was a hyper and needy child.  I would do anything for attention.  I groomed myself to be polite, charming, and charismatic.  Mom made me believe I was caring, smart, hard-working,  and intuitive.  I don't remember her ever telling me that I was beautiful or pretty.  I'm certain that she did, but what I remembered was that she said I was kind, loving, and smart.  And I believed her.  Maybe I wasn't.  I'll never know.  But because I trusted and valued her, I grew up attaching these qualities to myself.  

My journey growing up made me question myself.  I was faced with choices and opportunities that I believed to be unique to me.  Indeed I had tough situations that forced me into a life I knew nothing about. I'm sure all teens go through this, at least to some extent.  But even my young self had so much volume, and I think that quality created a damaged psyche.  My own personality enhanced the unfortunate events I was faced with.  My bad choices left me in an inescapable state of guilt and shame.  My mother calls me an empath.  I do feel deeply...mostly from others.  I feel a person I do not know in a room.  I can't read their mind, but if they are feeling anything strong, I usually feel it too.  It doesn't mean that I can "feel their pain...or joy", I just feel an energy.  Sometimes it makes me nauseous.  I have to at least consider the fact that maybe I was just an emotional child.  Others could say that I am dramatic. No one wants to be labeled as a drama queen.  I have made many choices.  I read into them, then out of them.  Then I dig back in to try and give myself closure.  I started to realize that every time I tried to excavate...the walls got thicker.   This makes things easier.  And it make things harder.  

As a teen I was capable of loving deeply.  Giving myself.  Putting 100% into the physical and also emotional side of a relationship.  Emotionally, I was usually more mature than my partners. Sexually, I was more mature than their last partner.  The physical was really the only part that made sense to me.  Most of the boys I was involved with were eventually turned off by my intense attachment.  Some fell in love with me.  I never liked the ones that were nice back.  Actually, I loved them the most, but knew that I didn't deserve them.   Even in abusive relationships I felt some kind of commitment to please.   I would do anything.  I was my husband's dream.  I would never say no to anything.  This opened up the door for abuse and humiliation.  I took pride in sacrificing myself...over and over...and over.  I thought this would bring me an equal amount of commitment, loyalty, and love.  

All of this "logic" put aside, I still have memories of feeling sexually uncomfortable in many settings and over time.  As I research, I discount my gut...women WILL remember abuse, they just don't want to admit it.  Amnesia from trauma is highly unlikely.  If something happened to me, I would remember.  Especially since my memory is so vivid during most of my childhood.  Right?

So my sexual expertise at 11 is natural.  Hiding in my bed under the covers with my panties off with my teddy bear's mouth in my vagina must be "experimenting" when you are 6.  Waking up in my babysitters room that she shares with her husband and feeling extreme shame as he orders me out of the room is probably just me sleepwalking.  After being ordered out, I wandered into the playroom and wished upon a star that my mom would get off early and come get me.  I cried and cried. I remember the conversation she had with my mom. " She sleepwalks a lot".  Maybe that was it.  
On another note, I have memories with great grandpa.  Spoon feeding me Rum because my cough is so bad.  Sitting on the counter in his t-shirt, gagging.  I see the bottle, and I see the spoon.  I see his baby blue sheets and his messy bathroom.  I remember wishing that grandma Alice could come back and sleep with Grandpa.  I remember crying in his bathroom.  But I trust my Grandpa, even in his passing.  Although the circumstances make me question things, really I know that he was just taking care of me when my Mom was working late.  He is not the perpetrator. 

All of this regurgitation has been triggered by my husband's innocent and subtle request for answers.   He sent me an innocent article reminding of a sex life.  Initially I was really aggravated, sex is so superficial...like a nice car or a new couch.  It feels good for a minute, but then it's over.  Then I realized that my need for knowledge, expression, and meaning in life that is my feel good,  is his equivalent to sex.   If I love you, and you love me, and we are attracted to eachother...not only that...we adore eachother...why does it seem impossible for me to show even a little affection, let alone desire sex with my loving husband?  Why the fuck am I so crazy?  Why do I resist sex after commitment has been made?  

Is it my way of controlling my environment? Am I a narcissist? I hear they like to have their cake and eat it too.  I feel selfish.  I tried counseling (more than once).  In my first marriage, and in desperation to find a cure for my sexual dysfunction,  I sought out the only licensed psychologist in Cedar City.  I arrived in his office like a deer in the headlights with a $100 bill in my pocket.  I confessed that I do not have a desire to have sex with my husband, and I don't know what to do.   Here's what he told me:
Does your husband go to work? Yes.  Does he go everyday? Yes.  Does he provide for you and your children? Yes. What if he decided one day that he just wanted to stop.  He stopped working, stopped providing.  Would that be fair? No.  Well, you have a responsibility to your husband just as he has to you.  I left his office in tears and genuinely pissed off.

This post will go on...but for now I am tired.  My family is tired as they have felt my sadness over the last few months.  I need to energize the positive, and let it lift me up...otherwise I will surely fall in another hole. 

Sometimes when I feel like I am so stressed out; I just need to write (or blog...because it's faster than writing for me now). A recent tragedy helped me to take a step back and look at my own life. That is probably what prompted this post (which will veer off into many other directions... I apologize lol).

The last 2 weeks have been filled with uncertainty. Nothing in my own life has changed. My busy life goes on as usual. But a friend of mine lost her eldest 17 year old son in an accident. We have all heard of or maybe even been close to someone who has gone on too soon.

This one floored me. Maybe because I have children of my own. Children approaching the age of seeking acceptance have a human inescapable desire to be "accepted". This does not necessarily mean by their peers...although that is also a human need. However, it would take a STRONG positive environment in the home to counteract the effects of peer reject or LET ME MAKE THIS CLEAR negative peer support.

Weight Loss

“You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present.”

~Jan Glidewell

I'll never forget when I hit the 100 lb. mark. At 5'1 I was an 8th grader in Junior High. I had quit gymnastics several months earlier and went from 4'9 and 80 lb to 5'1 and 100 lb in about a year. I went back to the gym to say hello to old friends. One of my best friends says, " Jiani (my coach) said you look like a cow". I was devastated. In high school I reached 110-118, and as a cheerleader and athlete I felt "big". After high school I was seeing someone I was very interested in. One day in his truck I was talking about working out. He tells me "You look pretty good....but you needto tone up a little. You know that though.." At 125 lb and 5'4 I gave myself whatI though wasa reality check. "WOW you really are fat." I remained at around 123-127 until the birth of my first child. Weighing in at around 190 only a few weeks before hewas born, I was certain the weight would not come off. But, after breast feeding and eating healthy I was down to 127 within 6 months....yet still feeling "FAT". When baby daddy and I split, I got down to 116 and felt phenomenal. Shopping for a wedding dress at 128 a few years later was a nightmare. I should be a size 3 and now I'm a 5. Sounds stupid but at that moment I was again discouraged about weight gain. When my 2nd son was born I gained a mere 31 lb. That is what the doctor's say is healthy so I was satisfied. All my eating right and exersizing during pregnancy had paid off. 6 months after delivery I was back down to 132. I stayed around 130 after that pregnancy and although I was down to pre-pregnancy weight, I still felt a big lack of confidence through my weight gain, stretch marks, cellulite, ect...In 2005 I was sick of being "overweight" at 133 lb. I joined a gym for the first time in my life (except of course the real thing....gmnastics). I worked out 5 days a week for an hour or more...juiced....ate healthy...In 6 months I was back down to about 128. 5 lb lost? Really? I felt good but again was discouraged. After my divorce I lost a little but regained it quick. This would be the year that I went back to school, began working full time (stopped going to the gym and ate whatever I could grab and go), and met Randall. In the 3 1/2 years we have been together I have let myself slip to 147 lb. At 5'4" that is nearly "obese". In the last 3 years I have tried and failed at attempts to get back to a healthy weight. I know it's a lifestyle change, but I have a hard time with it. So with the New Year and a convenient reason to regain controll of my body I will attempt to lose 20 lb. People say...you don't need to lose 20 lb OR 20 lb is a lot. Either way I know that is a healthy weight for me. 2 weeks ago we had a friend over. I was talking about getting back into shape and losing 20 lb. He seemed disgusted at first that I would want to lose that much. I told him it wasn't about the numbers (although they are an indicator). I just wanted to feel good. Not good...actually great. He replied that he could understand where I was coming from because deep down I remember and I know what it feels like to be a strong gymnast. He said he thinks that I know what it feels like to have the body of an athlete so I'll always strive for that. WOW hadn't thought of it that way. In my own mind, I was fat at 87 lb in the gym weigh ins at 11. I was fat as 100 lb at 13. I wasfat at 118 as a sophomore, 125 as a mom, 133 as a mom of 2, and147 as the owner of 3 jobs, a student, a mother, and a soul mate.

Fall Semester :-)

I don't even know what to say right now. This is not the first time I have stared at a blank screen or a piece of paper. It's only the first time I ...I stopped for a moment to regroup. The first time I stopped long enough to be honest. I take that back. I've always been honest. The problem is...I can't remember. God help me for what I am about to remember. Let's start from the beginning because I am unclear when the abuse started. I have never even said that word and my name in the same sentence. But I have been crying all night and I don't know why. As I research I am nauseated. I have random images of nothing specific and I cry uncontrollably. I feel like I cannot breathe right now. I take a break from my thoughts and the strange thing that creeps in to my mind is ssshhhh, or someone will hear your silly thoughts. No one will believe you. I don't really know who abused me. There were so many men in my life...some were not even prominent...but left an imprint. I'm stopping because I can't see through the tears...very weird. OK the first memory I have is of my mother "rescuing" me as a baby in a crib. Probably nothing, but an awkward visual in my mind. My mother says there is no way I could remember this...I recall the placement of my crib and my recently passed great grandmother's organ...the window...my mother's nightgown...I was so scared. I was...as my mother recalls...about a year old. I only remember crying, and my mother "walking and bouncing" me back to sleep. This is very vivid and I'm not sure why. Next memory is waking up in my "babysitters" room with her husband. I remember Johnny Carson and counting sheep. And now...never mind. He's fat and he has brown hair and when my babysitter wakes up I am in the playroom...she says
I am sleep walking.
I am in trouble. I know this sounds silly but this is the first time I ever wish upon a star. I don't even remember what I wished for...but I was in my nightgown...and my babysitter was mad that I was awake...and I was afraid of her hairy husband in his underwear. A few years later my mom has a best friend. She has a daycare business. I love Donna with all my heart I trust her as someone to take care of me. One day she collapses against the wall. She is drunk all the time... I am 8 or 9, and immediately I feel an urgency to help. I am scolded for calling 911. We are at a wedding for someone in Donna's family. My Mom says I am not allowed to go "over there" but for some reason I remember going "over there" to the guest house. Mostly it was empty except for Ricky.
He has a daughter named Sarah and he plays guitar. Ye's yucky too. That's why I wasn't supposed to go there.

Christina Aguilera and the "National Anthem"

HONESTLY! The negative reaction of Christina Aguilera's Anthem is killing me!!!! You all are missing the big picture here. Randall put it in perspective for me (without knowing it) Sorry baby (we see this situation differently)...If it had been children singing out of tune and skipping verses, it would be different. Yes,I realize they would be innocent offenders, but IS IT NOT the symbolism of the song that has the impact? If they had skipped a verse would you shun them for their effort? I'm not saying she is a child. YES I think she is at fault for screwing up the words. But do you really think she arrived at the Super bowl with millions of people watching with the intention to "American Idol" the National Anthem? Absolutely not! She arrived feeling honored, and probably nervous. Several people said "she must be on drugs". SHAME ON YOU for placing judgement. You have no reason to believe she is on drugs unless you are her mother, her father, her sister, her brother, or her best friend. Stop reading the Enquirer! People complain about her runs...changing the melody...my Grandfathers were all Veterans and they are probably rolling over in their graves. HOWEVER, her voice resonated emotion with ME. I missed the "omitted" or "altered" because I was so caught up in the moment. Watching the players sway and look up as if to thank God for their opportunity. Imagining seeing an immense audience on their feet for the same reason. The thought of how many people were sitting in their homes, enjoying their freedom, with their families, and their Super bowl grub. I was feeling grateful for those that have made my way of life possible, not worrying about if Christina Aguilera is "worthy" of the National Anthem. I realize that veterans see it as an insult, but that just means they are missing the big picture too. Should we all halt to the original version ( I am meaning melody, not lyrics) of The National Anthem because it was first? Wasn't this country founded on creative thinking? If we all stand so firmly in tradition (or religion, or whatever it is that has shaped us) that we cannot examine...well then... YOU LOSE! When the towers fell did we not...as a country...forgive the misunderstandings and miscommunication of that horrible day and the months that preceded it? NOPE! Because THAT'S NOT THE POINT! If we all stuck to tradition 100% of the time, we'd all still be picking huckleberries off the tree in our birthday suits...and if you just so happened to be traveling on the Mormon trek west, you'd still have a few wives...or a few sister wives...Thank goodness for BIG THINKERS! That's all I can come up with now...sorry :-)

Management is doing things right; leadership is doing the right things.
~Peter F. Drucker

Leadership is practiced not so much in words as in attitude and in actions.
~Harold S. Geneen

I still love this song...reminds me of high school :-)

I hate the world today
You're so good to me
I know but I can't change
tried to tell you
but you look at me like maybe
I'm an angel underneath
innocent and sweet.
Yesterday I cried,
must have been relieved
to see the softer side
I can understand
how you'd be so confused
I don't envy you
I'm a little bit of everything
All rolled into one

[Chorus]
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover
I'm a child, I'm a mother
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell, I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
You know you wouldn't want it any other way

So take me as I am
This may mean
You'll have to be a stronger man
Rest assured that
when I start to make you nervous
and I'm going to extremes
Tomorrow I will change
And today won't mean a thing

[Chorus]

I'm a bitch, I'm a tease
I'm a goddess on my knees
When you hurt, when you suffer
I'm an angel undercover
I've been numb, I'm revived
Can't say I'm not alive
You know I wouldn't want it any other way

Euphoria

I can't even explain what an amazing change this new job has had on my life. It's not even that the job itself made that significant of an impact (although it's great), but I think the tough decision of cutting back on the job I hate to pursue my true passion in depth has made all the difference in my stress levels. I know it's only the beginning of the semester, but each day as I sit in class, learning about strategies for struggling readers, ideas for gifted students, integrating arts into the curriculum, it's like my brain goes crazy. I feel a little euphoric walking through the halls of the elementary with things to do that will enhance the students' learning. I am a more patient mother, more focused, I have more energy, and I'm just, well, happier! (I'm sure come March I'll be exhausted again) But for now, I'm gonna indulge myself !

More quotes...sorry I love em :-)

It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature and everlasting beauty of monotony.
Benjamin Britten

I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.
Jorge Luis Borges

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.
Victor Hugo

For me the greatest beauty always lies in the greatest clarity.
Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

Beauty is only skin deep. If you go after someone just because she's beautiful but don't have anything to talk about, it's going to get boring fast. You want to look beyond the surface and see if you can have fun or if you have anything in common with this person.
Amanda Peet

A beauty is a woman you notice; a charmer is one who notices you.
Adlai E. Stevenson

A woman's life can really be a succession of lives, each revolving around some emotionally compelling situation or challenge, and each marked off by some intense experience.
Wallis Simpson

A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way.
Mark Twain

Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.
Douglas Adams

Judgment comes from experience - and experience comes from bad judgment.
Walter Wriston

There is nothing so easy to learn as experience and nothing so hard to apply.
Josh Billings

When you have really exhausted an experience you always reverence and love it.
Albert Camus

Holiday Blues??

I don't know what is wrong with me but I am in a rut...a funk...and I can't seem to climb out. I can't seem to get the motivation to do anything I usually do. I keep trying to bring myself back to the middle where I know what works but I can't. I think it's because I need challenge, change, and order in the same sentence. Beat that LOL. What ever am I going to do? I feel suffocated. Now that the stress of school is over for a few weeks I thought I would feel some relief...but I only feel lazy and unaccomplished. I keep telling myself that I need the downtime, don't worry about the house, don't worry about all the things you could be doing. I wanted to take this time to scrapbook, cook, deep clean, write, and catch up on lost time with my family. But I can barely get out of bed. I've come down with a cold that has hung on for over a week. I have no ambition. This is not like me. I feel like a bear in the winter. I know that I was desperate for a break but I didn't know my body and mind would nearly shut down...Now the relief I crave is my busy life. How ironic. Geez get it together mama.

Special Education

I was talking with someone today in casual conversation, telling them how excited I was to have this new job at the school, and how I couldn't wait to just go to dinner with my boyfriend after finals. She suggested a movie too. I proceeded to tell her how a movie was out of the question, I don't like to sit that long. I told her how I took Yoga last semester to fill a credit and it was torture (Yoga really is nice, but it's too slow for me). Another person turned to me and said, jokingly, "How are you going to teach Special Education if you don't have any patience?" Stopped me in my tracks. "I have patience" was the only reply to come out of my mouth. As I left, I had to think about that question. What makes you think you can teach children with special needs? As quickly as the question entered my mind I had an answer. I can teach children with special needs because I have endurance. Because I value perseverance. Because I have a creepy sense of what is lacking in a child, and also what is extraordinary. Because I'm not here to just have "patience" with them, but rather help them to explore their options, and conquer their strengths. My job will not be to merely sit there and try not to become aggravated. Each individual child is like a puzzle. If I put this here, will this other piece fit? NOPE! I'll have to move this one that way so this one will fit. Good! Now I have the corner piece! If I can get 4 corners, I can build up the middle! What is going to help them learn? The biggest misconception about Special Education is that these students are "retarded". Children with special needs are everywhere. A child that has been molested is withdrawn and doesn't trust adults, a child living in poverty with so little resources, they don't even have a back pack to bring to school. A child dealing with the loss of a parent may be aggressive. A genius child in math possibly cannot grasp the basics in phonics, a child that recently lost an arm in an accident has to learn to write with the other hand. I will use my multi-tasking, organizational, everyone gets the benefit of the doubt, you haven't seen everything, go hard or go home, sensitive, and...yes... patient nature to be an EXCELLENT Special Education teacher :-)