There I sat, tears streaming down my cheeks in the barely lit room, reading and highlighting pill books and doing bio-chemistry conversions. The master plan, so to say.  He didn’t talk about what I was doing, or why I was in the state that I was in. The sheer urgency of needing a light at the end of the tunnel told him the bad parts of the story, so he didn’t have to ask. He convinced me to call a family member in Las Vegas, or that was their last known whereabouts eleven days ago or so. So I called. A familiar but unidentified voice was on the other end of the line. I asked for my family member and there was a pause then, “Oh, he’s already left. I’m sorry.” Before the “sorry” was ever there, I had fresh tears pooling in my eyes. The sure thing, the one who would care for me no matter what, was already gone on to who knows where. I had thrown out his number before hand, so I couldn’t call him.

Feeling trapped I said my thanks and was about to hang up with the man on the other end of the line offered to take a message. “Do you have [his] number?” I asked. “Of course. But I don’t know who you are, so I can’t give it to you. It’s not my place,” he replied. I felt somewhat relieved. While I was giving the info to him via a speaker phone, my friend James was telling me things through FB to ask. Under any other circumstances, it would have been pretty funny. The guy on the phone asked me who was there, and I said I was chatting with someone through a video, and he replied, “You’re not crazy love, I can hear him too.” I had a feeling of who I had on the line, but I had to ask, and I was right. I felt a little embarrassed about calling his room, upset and thinking horrible thoughts, but I wanted out so badly. We finished up the call, he wished me well, I thanked him, and returned to my video chat. James hit the nail on the head when he asked me who it was by name. I saw his eyes light up. “Why don’t you go live with him! And bring me with you?!” Another thing that would have been funny under different circumstances.

I came to many conclusions last night and tonight. One of them is that I know who I can count on. I know who really loved me. The sad part is that I am not as smart as I thought I was. I thought I would never be taken in my another Roxanna again, and it’s very clear that I have been. She used to promise me hope of deliverance from my domestic violence situations, and then never fully able to go through with it. I didn’t need food. I didn’t need money. I needed companionship, someone to tell me that I was not alone. Someone to tell me that everything was going to be alright and that they were going to be there for me through it all. Looking back at those messages, I have to wonder if I was conversing with Roxanna again. Did she change her voice again? Where is she getting those devices? They all sound like different women, but they use the same sentence structures, same words, same phrases and life stories that she presented to me eleven and a half years ago. How does she keep fooling me off of the computer? Will she ever give up? What is so important that I have that she wants? If she just tells me, I will gladly give it to her for her to leave me alone forever. I am no longer even interested in keeping a record of her lies online anymore because I want her to leave me alone. I won’t even white knight for her future victims anymore. Discover the bitch like I did. Carry on the torch as I tried to. Just. Leave. Me. Alone!

In the mail this afternoon, I received a plane ticket to New Jersey. Do I want to go? Not especially. I can bring along the little ones, but only one carry on luggage each. The tickets are one way. There’s no turning back once I do go. I have faith in James, though. I know if I go to him, he will really be waiting for me at the Newark airport. He will really take me to his place. I won’t end up lost and wandering around alone somewhere down Texas way, with no way to get to even an enemy that I know down there. Not that they would help me, but it would be a familiar face. Maybe there’s a lesson to be learned from all of this, but I have to say that I should have learned it a long time ago when  I first caught Janna in her lies and then caught Roxanna in similar lies. But I fell for it. Maybe it’s my weakness that every human has a heart and compassion for another human being in help, though I know many who have turned a blind eye to me since childhood.

James put a light at the end of the tunnel that I was in. I didn’t know if it was a train or the sunshine, but I could see a light and that was all I wanted to see. It was all I needed. I’m happy that he gave me that hope and didn’t just push me away when I reached out for help. Even if he had not sent me any tickets anywhere, and just conversed with me last night, not shooed me away because his mind and heart were on other things, I would have been just as grateful. I’m saddened a little that I did not marry James when I had the chance, but that’s just one of a thousand regrets that I am going to have to live with.

My heart needs to heal. These days I ignore it. That isn’t good.

I’ll re-write my pages some day. Not tonight. My back is hurting, Nick won’t let me have any of my meds, I ran off the social worker who came beating on our door, and I’m still worked up over that. You don’t just come into my house and throw around your weight and tell me what I can and cannot legally have here. All the medicines I have are 100% legal prescriptions. It’s hard to abuse a skin patch or time released capsule. I threw his damned bottle of psychotrophic drugs at him as he was ducking out of the house. Shit just got real on this page, and I’d like to keep things on a down low, least my mother’s sister is reading and printing what I have written here.

With my pages gone, I have the time, the encouragement to make something better. The title card isn’t misspelled, it’s a play on words. Get it? No? Well, ok.

Nick and I chowed down on these Mardi Gras cookies from Merritt’s. I want more, but I can’t have anymore until tomorrow. Get some! They come in green, purple and yellow! And they are delicious.

blog feeds: Here There

My (asshole!) doctor wanted to blame the chemicals that I work with. They can cause severe kidney damage. Sure. If I had worked there for fifty years. He then blames the metformin that I have been on for the past four years. Well, he wanted me to take it because it causes weight loss. He also told me there were no horribly wrong side effects. Um, sure. See, I knew better. If I were an everyday person I could have a lawsuit against him at the moment, but as a bio-chemist, I knew the risks of taking the medicine and I still took it. Having my mother tell me that at 173 lbs, losing 30 lbs since Halloween night, made me less of an embarrassment to her. Of course she’s in her 60s and living off me, but I’m the embarrassment because I was a few pounds overweight. Technically for my height I wasn’t even obese, but I stopped eating, got depressed, and here I am. Though my loving doctor and mother want me down to 100 lbs even by summer. I was encouraged that I could do this. Ever see a 100 lb 6′ 1″ person? We don’t look good. We look like we survived the holocaust. We have no energy. Ten years ago I was down to 100 – 90 lbs and I looked like total shit. No tits. No energy. Constant pains. But damn, I wasn’t an embarrassment to my mother, her family, or my doctor. The people whom I should have truly been trying to please weren’t interested in my weight; I’ve always been perfect to them.

I was put on a double transplant list yesterday. Monday I pick up my pager to wait for the news that there is a kidney or lung (yes, those are fucked up too). I’m not sure if this will affect my trip to Sydney, or the trip to Las Vegas in March. I’ve already paid for my tickets and I want to go. My plane to Sydney is supposed to leave on Thursday morning and I return on Sunday the fifth. I had everything planned, from a new camera to a ton of GBs of space to take pictures and video. I even stocked up on spare batteries and a fast charger so I wouldn’t run out of juice on the trip. Then there’s my “artisan” make up because I was supposed to be a part of the filming we’re going to. I can’t get on camera with a dialysis cath in my arm with the bruises to go with it. This all has screwed up my entire pleasure in looking forward to the trip; I haven’t been to Australia for pleasure since 2003. Dennis was also looking forward to seeing DW again. I guess he can do that without me there, though. Nothing would be stopping him. I haven’t told anyone about this, other than posting it here, for people to sympathise with me over it. Let’s have that Pity Party for me!

On a lighter note, I have a couple of family members who are going to take blood tests and such to see if they match and I can get a kidney from them, possibly. I know my cousin BJ got tested. I’m not sure if I truly need my lung(s) replaced. That’s one of the things we’re going to discuss at the doctor’s office Monday afternoon.

Oh, and my TimeCapsule died and went to hell a week ago. I’ve gone through the motions of removing the hard drive in it (and have the pictures to prove it), and now I am waiting on my check to go into my card so I can get a cord for it. I have another TimeCapsule, but I can’t get the computer to recognise it. I hope that wasn’t the error with my older drive. After harvesting that drive, I feel as though I can harvest the drive from my old strawberry iMac, just to get the data off  it. That would be pretty awesome if I could get that drive too. I may update next with pictures of me harvesting my TimeCapsule drive and the iMac drive, if I can get it out. Right now I have to sit at my desk and update, and that’s a bitch. I usually update from my bed while I’m watching TV. Not anymore! Not until I can figure out how to get that TimeCapsule working. Any suggestions? Advice on anything I’ve posted? Email me if you do. Or leave a comment. Whichever is good for you.

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I want to thank everyone who leaves personal support and love for me here. I appreciate it. As for those of you concerned about the personality stealer (which is all that I will refer to her as), I don’t care what she does. If she wants to claim that she and I have the same interests and likes, that’s fine with me. I know that she does not, and in doing so, she isn’t impressing me or anyone out there because I don’t like myself in the state that I am. I feel there is room for improvement and nothing that she says or does will make that any different. It scares me a little to think that she feels that she is a perfect person in mimicking me, and I feel bad for the next person that she pretends to be, but what can one say? I’m annoyed about it a little, and a bit amused, but that is all. Again, thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.

I haven’t been feeling well these past couple of days. I don’t know what it is. I am going to try to clean things up around here and see if I feel any better. I feel pretty bad tonight. Bad enough that I flushed my supper down the toilet rather than eat it. I wasn’t that hungry anyway, and spent a good part of the day trying to sleep. I still feel pretty bad. Back pain. Leg pain. Calf pain. Head aches. I was put on Coumadin a few days ago, and since then I have been a little dizzy. I am thinking of going off of it. I also want to get my act together and see a doctor, even if it is the asshole that I despise, because I need some of my old meds back. I need them to get my life back on track. Or maybe it’s the idea that my mother has been living with us for a year now with no signs of moving out or reconciling with dad? That has always made me feel exhausted because she harps on everything I do, and she can always do so much better than me. On top of that all, she hates Chloe. Yes, she hates her granddaughter for two reasons: One, the girl was born out of wedlock (as if my mother was even married before I was born, and even then, I belonged to another man) and two, I “baby” her too much by getting her a pristine education, won’t let her walk and run the streets at night, and on Halloween I (GASP!) won’t let her trick-or-treat at the registered sex offended (pedophile)’s house! What the hell kind of mom am I, not letting a child who hasn’t hit puberty get molested?!

Okay, I’m being sarcastic and witty. Time to publish my post, close my browser and get to bed!

I spaced a little on the whole Orientation Day. I started drinking at 10am, again, and didn’t stop until just a few minutes ago. My life is so much better when I’m living a drunken blur. Things just make better sense to me. Like this whole law suite against my ex employer, and my mother’s intentions, and the spell checker cleans up my horrible spelling from hitting about four keys at once while I am typing, so I feel like I am getting something done. I also upped my medicine to 100 mcg today because the pain is unbearable. I couldn’t even think straight when I woke up this morning. I don’t know how I got to and from the University, or even if I helped Chloe get her school supplies ready. I just know that I kept falling asleep and having those weird lesbian dreams that I have.

Maybe I will quit this in twelve hours or so, when I get through with my dentist appointment tomorrow, and have a little chance of sobering up. Get some more of my external drive cleaned out, and go from there. Wish me luck, kiddies. I’m gonna need it.

I think the reason I started hitting the sauce again is because I really dislike my job and life right now. My husband is gone until October, and then we’re spending our anniversary with him working that night. At least I am going with him. I don’t remember quite what he had in mind for the anniversary, but I think it’s something that we’re both going to like. Something like a three day vacation where we’ll both be happy. We’re going to spend Halloween there, too. My job sucks because I don’t want to spend my life as an Assistant Professor at the University that I spent three years of my life longing to get away from. I want to be back working in the morgue, where I was happy, working with DNA samples, gel runs, isotopes, and things like that. Speaking of isotopes, my burn is much better. It’s just slightly peeling past my elbow. I expect the peel to reach my finger tips before it’s through. That’s the price one pays for science. Or science mixed with carelessness and extreme exhaustion.

Ok, time for bed. Night, night kiddies. Here’s hoping that tomorrow doesn’t go so badly.

The weather has been shite all week:

You know you live in high temperatures when 100ºF is cooler temperatures! Damn! It’s been days since I could just herd the kids out into the court yard, let them play from lunch until the evening meal, and then hose them off and put them to bed. No free range kids this summer!

I’m doing pretty well with my “No Narcotics” time. I don’t believe that I have had any withdrawals, or any side effects from not taking them. Does this mean that I am not an addict anymore? Or that I just took so many that I had a nice reservoir of narcotics built up in my system that I had a supply for “hard times”? HAHAHA! Like that happens. Either way, I’m glad that I got through the first twenty four hours, but I am striving for Monday night. That’s a little more than twenty hours away. I know I can do this!

Before I get my butt in bed, I would like to let everyone know that the Halloween Candles are in at Yankee Candle. This year’s special is Pumpkin Patch, which I intend to buy two of, plus two Autumn Leaves the first week of October. I love their Halloween and Christmas Candles! I wish they were making All Hallow’s Eve again this year, or even Evening Air, but they aren’t. Good thing I have some saved from last year! I can have that musky, spicy, fall scent as soon as the temperatures drop. Have I mentioned that I love this time of year? Because I do! Smile! I insist!

After almost nine years of asking and begging for information, my dad finally told me what happened to my little sister. I always was told that she committed suicide, and I raised awareness for years about young adults and suicide, only to find out yesterday that she died of an accidental overdose of methadone and Xanax. Dad still says that it was a suicide, but I told him that it sounded more like an accidental overdose to me. She planned to wake up the next day. That doesn’t sound suicidal to me.

In her honor, I am refusing narcotics, norco, percocet, vicodin and fentanyl all day tomorrow. I started at 9:30pm tonight, and so far so good. Even if I have bad withdrawals tomorrow, I am not having one drop or one pill of a narcotic. Just my blood pressure pills and my anti-depressant. Nothing more, nothing less. I also encourage anyone else out there who has had a loved one die from narcotic abuse or overdose to skip taking pain medication tomorrow, if you take it for pain related reasons. Just refuse the doses. Good luck. God Bless.

An interesting tidbit, as I was digging through some of my old discs of past layouts and archives, with the intentions of putting my old archives here, and I discovered that today was the day, ten years ago, that I dumped Blogger.com as my blog updater. I graduated to Greymatter on March 15, 2001, after using Blogger.com since June 2000. I believe I quit using Greymatter in 2002, but I don’t know the exact date yet.

So that’s the boring update on my life for the day. I think I might sneak and have another New York Dog today, while I can still get it out of my system before Thursday.