I love this song. The line "I get so tired working so hard for our survival" rings true for me. I do get tired of working so damn hard, and I just look forward to the time when things are a little easier. I don't expect life to be 'easy', just not always a struggle.

Beloved, if the light and heat you feel for me ever leaves your eyes, I would be devasted. Seeing that on a daily basis is what makes it all worth while. Yes I know this is a little cheesy but hey, it's me. If I don't do something a little cheesy every couple of weeks you should probably get worried about me.

"In Your Eyes"
love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but which ever way I goI come back to the place you are

all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes

love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive
and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside.....

Homework, Homework, Homework

Lots and lots of homework. I have two clinical preps to do tomorrow, along with a paper to get started on. Plus all of the chapters to stay on top of for regular class. Yet I'm sitting on the 'puter instead. The way I see it, I still have 14 hours to do the work, along with the weekend, and two 'free' days where I can skip a chapter. And thus the procrastination game begins. Luckily for me, I'm an expert.

A brief word on cliques. They SUCK!!! Already the worst nurse in training EVER is driving me crazy. She's hobbling around and I for one want to see scars, I don't think she had surgery. She's a complete and total liar. She spent all of 10 min. with a new classmate and yet proclaims her to be a weirdo. Hello pot, this is kettle...look in the mirror and see the psychosis! Thank God she's not on my floor, nor in my med-surg group. A word to the almost 50 year old: WTF do you think you are doing being 'friends' with 20 year olds? Do you really think they just want to hang out with you? NO!!! They want your GPA and that's it. So the rule is: Head down and mouth shut unless instructor is present to impress.

Hopefully I'll get some good new experiences, although none of my residents are diabetics. However, this is NOT where I need a lot of experience.

Finally, a word on bunnies and dogs: These do not mix. The bunnies in my back yard (RIP) are most certainly not related to Bugs, or they would have escaped. Instead, they are churning in my dogs' stomachs and I'm praying they do not make a reappearance tonight. Please God? PLEASE???? Regurgitated bunnies in the house does not make for a happy Sunny.

I'm loving being back in school, after only two days. The workload is going to be high, and a lot depends on my ability to be good at time management. Despite the fact that we've had a few rough weeks, my spirits continue to lift as the beginning of school for the boys gets closer and closer. The regular schedule for me and the boys is such a positive force. I'm able to exercise better, eat better, and the regular interactions with people outside the house provides much needed stimulation. The variety is a good thing.

One thing that I've been disappointed in is the lack of welcome I seemed to receive from my classmates. I know I have a tendancy to be somewhat reserved, but I thought I was at least friendly to everyone. The lack of friendliness back was a bit hurtful, and I guess I'll just have to wait and see how things unfold. I know I'm not the only on in this position, the girl next to me was experiencing the same thing. My comment to her was "I guess we didn't get the secret password". She laughed and we chatted. Hopefully, the ice will be broken when we start clinicals tomorrow.

One girl had commented that we seem to have a lot of strong personalities in my clinical group, and she specificlly mentioned me. While I know I have a strong personality, I didn't think that was a bad thing. I guess that's something I'll have to watch too. We have another adjunct teacher for this first clinical, also from the other campus just like my summer teacher. So another unknown but both of my theory classes were unknowns too. So far, I've had a really good feeling from both of them. The best news? Only ONE comprehensive final.

Dear Mother in Law

It's really not far to call you my mother in law. What you really are is a second mom, the one I wished my own could have been. It reminds me of the little girl we cared for, she didn't really want me to be her mom, she just wanted her own mom to be more like me. That's how I feel. I want a healthy mom whose shoulder I could cry on. Thank you for yours. Without all that you ahve done for us, I don't know where we would be. Without your love and support, well, let's just say that when I hear horror stories from friends about their mother in laws, I say a prayer of gratitude for you.

Again, just looking around the house...so much of it is because of you. The deck, the beautiful dining room table (which we never would have bought for ourselves), the basement carpet and stove, and of course, the bathroom. Over the years to many little things too...like the plants around the house for my birthday, your mom's plants. I hope it's as encouraging to you as it is to me, to know that the generations are putting down roots that go so far back.

I just wanted to write this down for you because its so hard to say and even though I know you won't see this it feels good to do. I get emotional and weepy but today of all days I felt I had to say it. You said you're proud of us. That means the world to me, having rarely heard it from my own parents. It's needed and feels so good.

I wish we had some way to pay you back. I promise we will be there for you and we will care for you if you ever need it. I miss our lunches together and look forward to being able to do them again.

Love,
Sunny the dear daughter in law

Good food day, in a weird way! We stopped at a local Chinese restaurant on the way home, where I ordered steamed pot stickers and lo mein. I ate about half of the lo mein, and three of the pot stickers. The RADish at 1/4, and beloved finished the rest. They split the rest of the pot stickers too.

I didn't get mad. I wasn't jealous...although that's not with right word either. Maybe I mean I wasn't deprived at watching them eat my food? Anyway, it was different.

I ate way too much at the night before and didn't make good choices either. The day did not start out that well this morning, with a few cinnasticks, but overall...there are small bits of improvement. Cleaning, sorting, and general picking up helped tremendously. There is a feeling of general discombobulation when the house is in too much disarray. I'm pretty sure that goes back to mom too. As she was less and less able to keep house, the knowledge that something was really wrong was nagging in the back of all of our brains. I did not yet have the word Huntington's in my vocabulary, but we knew something was wrong. The center--Mom---was falling apart, and with her, my center collapsed. The center is still being redefined, always with a bit of a hole that's her loss in my life. The coping mechanisms I developed were pretty unhealthy (eating, self denial), so the center is not real strong yet. Thank God for my Beloved!

It's no wonder with no one to pick up the pieces and hold us together that I ended up in such a crappy place. I tried to make things okay, by picking up the 'slack' and by desperate pleading with both God and Mom to just be okay. I tried to push my siblings and Dad to reassure me, but their attitude was "don't worry, it can always get worse!" So even back then cleaning was a solace, someway for me to trick myself into think that everythings just fine.

I think the feeling I get now, when I'm surrounded by a child-induced mess, is a reminder and reminiscent of the old feelings. It's not strong, more of an echo of the past. The clutter, the dirt, the 20,000 things that need to be done: It's a nagging reminder of the past when thing did come undone. When I'm done I feel like I've stuffed a monster back in the closet: My fear, that the mess is a 'symptom', and my painful memories. The therapist would ask "And what if it did come unglued?" My response is that it DID come unglued, but I did survive. But with so many scars. Even now, after all these years there is a gaping hole or I wouldn't end up with this icky feeling.

It's not all unhealthy. Some of it IS a girl thing, a mom thing, and a Lutheran German thinking (What will the neighbors say!). Some of it might even be a little bit perfectionism. It's also a distraction from eating, and an inability to sit and be still.

This is why it's so hard to untwist all of my feelings, there's a heck of a lot twisted together. Dang, I just had another thought on all of this and I lost it.

Oh yeah, the emotional eating stuff. I have an answer to one of the questions. When I let myself feel hunger, what I'm really feeling is a sense of control over my own body, and probably my life too. Hunger used to mean I was doing something right, until I started compulsively eating and binging. Then the hunger was not a good thing, I needed more to be comforted and this was my best option at the time. When I was dieting, the hunger meant I was in control of my eating and thereby in control of my universe. I saw it as a sign of power. It meant I was strong. So my real feelings when I want to get hungry (or when I am) is that I CAN be powerful, and I am an emotionally strong woman. It's a way to reaffirm that within myself. Especially if I'm having a fat-n-ugly attack. I don't want to need food to feel comfort. Hunger is a rejection of the relationship I have with food.

I kept very busy most of this weekend. School starts on Tuesday, woohoo! We had a wonderful break from the RADish, who seemed to have a good weekend as well. The family he was with was strict, but it sounded like he still had an okay time. He admitted that he was "almost glad to see us" when we picked him up. What a wonderful thing for him to say. It's akin to watching monkeys use tools for the first time.

He seemed to swing back and forth between being glad to see us and being mad at us for "getting rid of him". Several times, he seemed to being trying to trick us into admitting this. He said he's "not that bad" so he didn't know why we'd want to send him away. I think I'll make a list of grievances.

He refuses to pick up after himself.
He uses vulgar language
He's arguementative
He's hostile
He's rude to the animals
He is rude and nasty to everyone in the house
He's a slob
He won't clean his room
He won't do his laundry on a regular basis
He uses us--we provide a few vital services and that's it
He negotiates every part of his life
He refuses to engage us in a reciprocal relationship

This last one is not really an irritant, it's something to be pitied. Since he won't give and always takes, he never becomes vulnerable enough to have emotional ties of any significance with anyone. That is heartbreaking. However, all I can muster up these days is pity, at the very most. To say it's not easy to live with someone like this is an understatement. Often it's like living in a war zone. Always on guard, rarely able to relax. Always making sure everything within the war zone is secured, locked, and under surveillance. Not a good way to live

Revelations on eating

1. Keeping busy helps.
2. Keeping busy makes me feel productive
3. Keeping busy makes me feel useful, and eases the guilt of beloved working a job he hates for us.
4. Keeping busy is a distraction that makes me forget to eat, which leads to overeating.
5. Cooking/baking doesn't always equal binging. It's very relaxing for me.
6. Preventative stress management MAY be more satisfying than going through my list of stuff to do when stress is high.
7. Scheduling self care when I've been self-sacrificing, self-denial mode (and believing this was virtue) is HARD.
8. Breaking bad habits is a long process.
9. I see some progress, I have been able to STOP eating at times, and I've recognized a binge or two before it gets out of hand.
10. Still don't know what the heck emotional eating means for me.

11. I have dumb stupid guilt for dumb stupid reasons...it's ingrained.
12. It's hard to overcome the concept that "idle hands are the devils work".
13. Women, in general, strive for perfection. Although this might be more prevelent in ED populations, I see it everywhere. And it's hard to *NOT* strive for those standards. It's hard to try not to measure up even when I can see how unrealistic these perfectionist goals are.
14. Dieting news and talk, especially about "great low cal recipes" is no longer a topic of interest for me. It's a bit sad, but I find myself avoiding these conversations now. I wish I didn't want to avoid them, because this sort of talk seems to be all around me (MIL is a little loopy this way) and it makes me feel different.
15. Perfectionism, in terms of diet and exercise, is a demon that needs to be exercised. I tend to feel like a failure when I can't be perfect with either of this, have an 'all or none' attitude, and despite the knowledge that I have this unrealistic expectation of myself I have been unable to conquer this misguided thinking.

Swallow that Pride

DS just received a call from his former employer. He was fired earlier this summer because he was unable to keep up with cooking/cleaning solo. They want him back to bus tables, which is good money. He refused on the grounds that he wouldn't work for someone who fired him for some bullcrap reason. Too much pride. While I understand how hard it would be--I would never want to work for the place that fired me ever again--I also think it's foolishness. I hated the job I was fired from; DS really like it. I think he's just too embarassed to go back.

I have an Emotional Eating Homework assignment, blech. I read over the questions and couldn't come up with a single answer. I just drew a blank. My goal is to work on one question a day, just ruminating over it and trying to find an answer. The truth is I don't know if I really am an emotional eater. Stress, yes, but 'emotional' I dunno.

Multiple choice

If your mom and dad say "no friends over to the house this week" this means the following:

• a) It's okay to have them come over and sit on the deck
• b) they just mean they can't spend the night, they can still come over though.
• c) As long as we stay in our room they won't be bothered, so that's okay
• d) We'll just sneak them in, they won't embarrass us by kicking them out.e) no one can come over--period (but we know the REAL answer is actually a, b, c, AND d)

Even if it's just for a little while? But his girfriend was still working and he didn't have anywhere else to go. But I was hanging out with him too. What do you have against our friends anyway? IT'S SO UNFAIR!!

English is clearly not their first language.

The 18 year old has been hounding me to take him to get job applications. Of course I'm going to do it, but the feeling that I have to do more work than he does is getting to me. I'm going to have to think of something to restore the balance. He NEEDS to know that his free ride is over. If he quit/got fired from a job when he was living on his own he'd be facing eviction from his apartment, cut off of utilities, cut off of phone, no gas to get back and forth to get another job. This afternoon we went and picked up an application for a factory job. When I mentioned I wouldn't be able to get him back and forth all the time because of class, he panicked. How was he going to get to work? They'd never hire him if he could only work two days a week.

I don't know how he's figuring 2 days, since they work M-F, and there are four days when I won't be able to get him there by three. School doesn't let out until 3:15! A discussion about how I was his personal assistant ensued (thanks to Nancy Spoolstra's ideas) and he made an off hand comment about he'd pay me with Monopoly money. I guess he's planning on working for one of the railroads, or if he's really lucky for a hotel on Park Place.

DS's bmom pissed me off because she refused to bring him home. WTF? She wants to see him, and under the circumstances of DS's placement and adoption she really doesn't have a right to see him at all. DS wants it on a limited basis and that's the only reason why she gets to see him. I also think his sleepovers are out of guilt; he's made friends in the area and spends more time with them than with her. Unless, of course, she plans an activity such as a movie.

And then we have the RADish. He was in rare form tonight. He didn't know what to do with a lot of our responses, we gave him the chance to vent, scream, holler, and get everything off his chest. All the frustrations he was feeling, he had the chance to dump. Nope, nadda. He kept trying to go back to his same old arguements. We tried to leave things on a good note, something we didn't know how to do with the Big D. To top everything off, his therapist quit and so he did a discharge summary on him. The therapist told me "he's doing pretty well now anyway...." Um, NO! Although I can't really talk to him since we don't have a release signed by his biomom. I don't know who to direct more of my anger at: his social worker or his biomom.

Therapy for me is actually tomorrow. Good thing too because there was way too much going on today. My task was to think of alternatives to binging, so...here they are:

1. Take a bath
2. Take a nap
3. Puzzle games
4. watch tv
5. snuggle my puppy. I love rubbing his soft ears
6. exercise
7. snuggle beloved
8.
9.
10

Tomorrow I see the therapist again. I really need to make an appointment with the Food Police, but don't feel like there is a point right now. I'm resisting the food management side of things. Until I'm ready to work more actively on it or until I can break down and identify specific problem areas, I think it's a waste of my time. I didn't go to group therapy last week due to the flooding problem. It was the night that we were able to get water restoration in and there was a lot of paperwork to sign.

I do see some small changes in how and what I'm eating. Just going to go slow and take it one day at a time. My perfectionist tendencies are strong in this area. There is a need to find a balance between how much I work on this so I can make progress and spending too much time obsessing, which of course, I don't want to do. If that remotely makes sense. It does in my head, and that's more clarity than I've had regarding eating and weight issues than I've had in a long time.

The Big D and Accountability

Yesterday morning I woke up to a phone call from a former foster child. He was without question, the most difficult child we've ever had. The bag of trouble he dragged with him was sad, his past was horrifying, and he's chosen not to do anything about it. He was asking us for a ride to a wedding. We haven't seen him since he left our home in late 2004. Yet he felt it was acceptable to call us for a ride! That just speaks to his level of mental instability. He left our home under pretty sad circumstances--we kicked him out. So unlike beloved's Big D, mine is not diabetes.

Since my meltdown in front of our social worker, I seem to have found a new strength. Somehow, it was renewing for me to get it all out to someone other than beloved. He's sitting in this stew with me, and we need someone who is trying to do SOMETHING to help us and the kids. I don't feel like we'll see a lot of action, but I made my voice heard in there is power in that fact.

The boys are unhappy with the level of accountibility we are expecting. The 18 year old has been asked to be left alone for the rest of the night, because we made him help with dishes even though he did them four days ago. The horror! He even tried to pout because DS has not done them in that amount of time either. He was unhappy with the response that we just didn't care. The radish was looking for a phone number and since I took his phone away, he can't just hit one button. Of course, this is MY fault for taking the phone away, since he can't be expected to pay his phone bill on time every month.

Over and over the radish has asked me why I'm doing this NOW. In a way, it is a good question. I was beaten into submission for awhile, just too tired to parent him the way he needs to facilitate accountability. I don't expect healing without professional help in our home. That seemed to be my problem. We don't have adequate professional help because his SW doesn't believe in his condition. She logically can see his problems, but feels conventional methods will work. Even though they never have. This in turn caused my frustration, anger, and feelings of impotence. What was the point of me working so hard when there was no chance of decent therapy to support him or us?

Eureka, the light went on today. The RADish accused me of being cranky because it was "my time of the month." Such a delight, our little radish! He said he didn't know what my problem was...well, that's when the light went on because I DO know what his problem is. I've known all along but I just haven't been parenting him like it. Another point, and a good reminder came from the 18 year old. He asked if the radish likes being grounded and I replied with "I think it makes him feel safe." There must be some truth to it!

I had a long conversation with a new foster parent friend, who knows the radish's family. She's confused, perplexed and getting sucked in bad. I tried to warn her and I think she realizes she has to be careful. The level of manipulation by every member of this family can only be combated by keeping contact brief and to the point. At every chance they'll look for any perceived upper hand, real or imagined. The radish's sister is particularly adept and easy to believe because she's a girl. It's amazing that that half truths are spouted as reality time and time again.

Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. This results in lots of dancing, faster and faster. Lots of energy wasted on keeping up with one's own BS. What a waste of life.

We suspect the 18 year old is lying about his firing. I think he probably got yelled at--rightly so--for missing too many days. So he quit. He's still on the schedule for next week. He's so quiet it's easy to just ignore him most days. If I think about it, he's just as messed up as the radish, but it comes out in such different ways. For that I'm grateful or I think I would have gone crazy by now.

Only a little over a week before school starts, I'm excited again. Now that the job decision has been settled, I can relax a tiny bit until the hunt for LPN jobs starts in December. I'm glad I didn't sell myself short.

Pathetic

DS us angry at me for telling the truth. I told his bmom about calling me a bitch, and now he's trying to say he's not the one who said it, and that what he actually said was "She's not usually like this". I can only speculate, but it seems that he doesn't like this reflection. He did the typical teenager thing to me "how dare you eavesdrop!" um, sweetie you were in the living room, how is that eavesdropping?

The 18 year old got fired, what a shock. Apathy is the word that springs to mind over and over. He's just so afraid of life. He keeps saying he wants to work more, but puts all of the responsibility on me or beloved to do all the work for him in getting a better job. Dinner tonight, for example. He said he was hungry but asked me what I was making for dinner. I wasn't finished working outside, so I told him nothing--but he was free to make whatever he wanted. When everyone else got home I made hamburgers, and he decided he wasn't actually hungrey before (doesn't remember saying he was, perhaps?) but he wolfed down two burgers. I didn't ask, but he also didn't offer to help me finish in the yard sooner so that I could make dinner sooner. He ate a handful of bread, with nothing on it, for lunch. For breakfast, he waited until the banana bread was finished baking and ate some of that. In otherwords, he didn't life a single finger all day to do anything for himself. He's paralyzed by the mere act of living.

How strange, but good. I actually knew while I was eating, that I was eating too much, too fast, simply for the fact of eating. Shortly before desert arrived, I thought “oh yeah, now the good part.” And after only a bite or two, started to relax. I think I even commented on it, because I’ve been told that the reason eating is so relaxing is that your body can’t be in “fight or flight” mode, but rather “rest and digest”. The two systems are in conflict with each other. It made sense before this, but last night it really clicked.

I have two kids on my living floor and couch. One belongs to me, and I’m happy to say he gave the guest the couch. Although he does like sleeping on the floor, so maybe I’m giving him too much credit. I’m going to give it to him anyway.

The budget took a big hit this month, between Christmas shopping for my family, back to school shopping, clothes shopping for the boys, school shopping for us, an MP3 disaster, and let’s see what else? Oh yeah, the insurance deductible for the basement flooding. I just want to spend the day working outside, cleaning up the yard, the garden, harvesting potatoes, carrots, pumpkins, and squash. I’d like to cut back the raspberries, move the compost pile, and start moving plants around. There are two bushes that have to get moved, one because it’s pointless back where it is, and the other because the dogs are going to kill it if I don’t. I’d like to move two of the lilac bushes as well, and start on the apple harvest. I’d like to start the landscaping under the deck. I’d like to use up the chemicals in the garage that are for the lawn. There are ants to kill, creeping Charlie to combat, and the lawn needs to be mowed. None of these things stress me out, I take pleasure in them. It’s just been too hot to do any of it.

The garage needs a complete cleaning, but with the rug (please, please, please insurance adjuster have a sensitive nose…tell us we get to have new carpet!) festering, opps, drying
in the garage, we can’t really clean it out. So I guess I’ll try and wait. The cleaning service left a brochure with some terribly dramatic photos of rotting crawl spaces. If mine looked like that I’d be down there with a bucket of bleach in a heart beat. Three cheers for my beloved, for his wise decision making on a dehumidifier.

Back to money woes, DS’s birthday is coming up, as are school fees. DS needs money on his lunch account, but I’m trying to swallow my pride and fill out the free/reduced lunch forms. I know he qualifies because I read the forms when the foster kids get signed up. There’s usually shop fees, which they like to forget about, and also passes for events…something like $7/child for each pass. It prevents a lot of whining about “can I get some money to go to the game?” Add in traveling fees for family events in both September and October, and I’ll have to go over that budget with a fine tooth comb again. I know we can afford these things, I just have to have it mapped out so that I don’t stress and freak beloved out.

Lowered Expectations

The song for this old SNL skit has been going through my head. It is only through extreme measures that I've been able to coerce the children into doing what I want them to do. First, to do their EXPECTED chores. Second, to have any awareness of their surroundings. Third, to let them wallow in their own piles of self-made poo. I will not rescue them from their bad decisions, nor will I accept responsiblity for those poor choices. If they like laying in piles upon piles of crap, so be it.

The 18 year old did not make it to work today. His own fault. He's had three days that he's messed up recently. This is after asking for more hours. When pointed out to him, his reply was that it was only two days that were messed up, one was my fault because I got his work hours wrong. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. DS was overheard telling friends how I'm always bitchy. The radish accused me of destroying the check that HE washed. I'm amazed at the lengthes of denial he'll go to in order to avoid accepting responsibility for his actions.

After reading a number of RAD/attachment blogs this week, I realized how very lucky Beloved and I were in all the help and support we got with DS. On the other hand, it's also highlighted the lack of support we are getting for the radish now. I ended up in tears today, between the problems with the wet carpet in the basement and the absolute frustration of having zero support from social workers. How on earth is anyone expected to 'manage' this kind of child 24/7, 365 days out of the year? Prison guards work an 8 hour shift, I'm expected to be 'on duty' all the time.

He has shown very little interest in life beyond superficial pleasure--watching TV, playing basketball, a few things like that. There is zero consistant participation, and due to poor choices he can't play on the team this year. He does absolutely nothing other than what he wants, operating solely on the "What can I get out of this?" principle. Everything negative that happens in his life is someone else's fault. Even personal cares, picking up after himself in common areas are shuffled onto other people. If his socks are lost, it's because I picked them up (because he wouldn't of course), if the bathroom's a mess, a common response is "I didn't have time to pick up, you should get me up earlier then". After spending 30 minutes in front of the TV--of course he didn't have time to do such things!

One of the blogs I read this week said that she does things occasionally for her RAD child, not because she expects any sort of response, but simply because it makes her feel good. I used to occasionally do this for another child we had, and once I got to this mentality, it was a huge burden off my chest. I really have to get back to that mindset. Right now though, we've decided no back to school clothes--he just dumps them everywhere and lives in sloth anyway. Why would I add to my own frustration? He doesn't NEED new clothes, he WANTS them. He's threatened to throw things away in order to 'need' more.

We can't keep towels in the bathroom anymore either. He uses a new towel for each shower, and at times takes multiple showers in a day. The towels end up on the floor in a horrible, musty mess. Washclothes get tossed on the tub floor, free to fester and get musty as well. And he believes it's my responsibility to take care of laundering these items.

The upshot of my tear filled day was that our TFC worker is going to be setting up respite for us for 4 days. I believe that's $120-150, money well spent for the peace I need to get. I reminded her that this is a temporary solution, a short break will not mean much in the long run if this child is allowed to keep on the path that he's on. She offered several suggestions, all of which are part of my bag of tricks already. I just don't have the energy to use any of them right now. Long term solutions are needed, and the county worker simply doesn't want to make that happen. The funds are available through special programs he's a part of (which we have NEVER used) and the 'family ties' that are cited are BS, they just don't exist. This worker has wasted 8, almost 9 monthes of this child's time. Time that is quickly running out if there is ever going to be any sort of healing.

Growing up with Huntington's

I've been reading a lot of what other people think of the Duggar family recently. Like Tom Cruise, this is a family I love to read about, and love to pick apart. Religious extremists are always people to watch out for, IMO, and this family, while seemingly harmless bothered me for a lot of reasons. The first is, it's a stab at my own infertile self. I actually thought that was the main and REAL reason. Now I've realized that's not it at all. It's actually that I think the older children are way too parentified, and this I can relate to. If you asked me in high school if I thought I had too much responsibility, I probably would have said yes. But I also would have quickly followed up with "I don't mind, my family needs me." I came across to most people as a well adjusted child, polite, with more manners than most, and very responsible. I was the good child. I had good grades, could be trusted not to go out and drink (that they knew of), didn't smoke, didn't have sex, and in fact didn't date at all (that my parents knew of). I dressed fairly preppy, another parental plus.

I also did laundry, vaccuumed, dusted, did dishes, cooked, mowed the lawn, weeded the garden and did a lot in the barn. Without being told. As my mother's health went down hill, I just picked up more of the 'slack'. Mom still did plenty, but I did a lot too. I don't think my father even noticed, other than the barn work. When mom couldn't milk, dad bemoaned the fact but didn't give me a parental lecture about helping the family during times of need. I just DID IT. A good trait to have in a teenage child, true?

Yet, looking back I also realize that this was not the way it should have been. My parents should have directed my work, should have looked to outside help, or my adult siblings for this sort of support. I still think what I did was right; but I think what they did was wrong. Even if we would have hired help, I know I would have had to do more--and that's not the issue. The fact that as "the good daughter" I laid aside my teen years and shouldered adult responsibilities while enabling my father's emotional weaknesses is the problem.

That's why I get bugged abou the Duggars. The kids do what I did, and the parents encourage it. It's not right for kids to shoulder adult responsibilities. Ever. As they get close to adulthood, they should be taught how to run their own home--I'm all for raising adults and not children. I doubt they'll move out until they have a spouse in tow, and that spouse is in for a serious shock.

After moving out, depression hit me like a bullet between the eyes. My purpose, the feeling needed was gone. Mom wanted me to leave, I don't think she wanted me to see her decline. I wandered and struggled for so long after that. After beloved and I moved in together I tried so hard to please him, I wanted everything to be so perfect...I wanted to have that purpose again. It wasn't healthy, I had a hard time forming my own identity. I marveled at how at ease he was with who he was--his likes and dislikes. Mine were so diminutive, always involving wifely type things. I don't think there is anything wrong with wifely things. I do see the unhealthy behavior as being that I thought I was supposed to be focused solely on that and NOT on my own personal, separate from beloved interests.

It's all very confusing, even now. Again, I'm amazed he stuck with me and wanted ME. He truly is my best friend. Even after meeting my family, especially my mom, and knowning that could be me someday.

Dear Mr. Murphy

Get the hell out of my house. You have never been welcome, and here is why:

1. You invite yourself over.
2. You don't pick up after yourself.
3. You almost always cost a lot of money.
4. You're visits come at very inconvenient times.
5. You are rude, inconsiderate, and a royal PITA.
6. You're visits are always stressful and cause undo amounts of worry and upheaval in my daily routine.

I hereby evict you permanently from my life!!! Don't come back. The little sump pump trick was the final straw. Do I need this stress in my life, ever? I don't f'ing think so.

New Therapist

Therapy sucks!
I guess it means I’m really getting to the heart of the matter. For quite some time, I enjoyed therapy. It meant I was doing something for myself, and I was proud of that fact. Yes, it costs money—but it is tax deductible! I like the ED therapist, and little old consistent me loves the fact that she also does the weekly group. It startled me to realize that I will be seeing her twice a week, at least for awhile. The first thing she asked me today is what I want to be working on. All I could answer was “the eating stuff” because it’s still rather nebulous and vague. It’s just this little food/eating problem I have. Last week I was able to put my finger on the fact that I binge after therapy, and I realized that after my regular therapy-induced emotional purging, the instinct to stuff it all back down with a binge is very, very, very strong. I was asked to come up with alternatives. The problem is the alternatives seem flat, boring, expensive and hard to come up with…it’s supposed to be something caring and nurturing for myself. It seems I’m being asked to learn a foreign language overnight.

I gave her a brief update on me, my life to date, and my eating disorder history. It’s clearer than ever that my habits have been learned. Anger was the only ‘safe’ emotion we could show/express as a family. Sweetums is always so calm, which was both a blessing and not so good for me. Certainly, I appreciate being able to talk and having learned how to share my life and love with someone, I never, ever want to use the sort of hurtful language and behavior that was so characteristic in my family. Yet, I failed to recognize that in my effort to be peaceful and calmly ‘talk things out’, I stuffed a lot of emotions. I did that when my primary mode of communication was yelling too…and thought that sweetum’s way WAS expressing emotions. But I was afraid to say a lot of things, afraid to speak a lot of my fears. That I wasn’t good enough, that he’d leave if he really knew the scary things that went on in my head. That if I told him about some of the things I wanted to do (from entertainment, to lunch, to decorating the house!) he’d laugh at me, or tell me I was stupid. Not one time has he ever done anything to indicate he’d react this way. I based it all on how my family treated me. I self-effaced, and almost always said “I don’t care honey, whatever you want”. When I did say what I wanted, I was always afraid that he wouldn’t like it or would be disappointed (movies, restaurant choices, etc). There were very few areas of exception. Most meals were planned with what I thought he’d like. Books, perhaps, were the exception because I never had to share them if I didn’t want to do so…the few times there were things he didn’t like that I did, I was careful to not bring them up. As far as I was concerned, I already had my answer, therefore, why defend my likes/dislikes? I was sure he’d laugh or make fun of me, as my father and sister had done. I don’t even think I thought about it. I just reacted.

In the last year, I’ve started to do more…and he’s encouraged me. I’m more confident on the choices I make for decorating my house, and I hope some of my personality shows. True, it’s fairly plain and simple, but I don’t like clutter or tons of stuff sitting around. Yet that fact alone is progress. Previously, I was indecisive, worried it would be ugly, and worried my beloved would hate it. I would go into other people's homes and be amazed and envious at what they would do decorating-wise. Sometimes he has to suggest the things I do want (and he knows it) and it makes me love him all the more, because I know he does truly accept me. Again, my own fears created this mess and I am so very grateful to God for providing a man who is patient, sweet, caring, and downright amazing. Even with all of my self-deprecating behaviors, I’ve always felt like we were two halves of a whole. When we first met, it seemed like we were speaking a different, secret language. The kind of language that I had forgotten I knew, and it was only when I heard him speaking it that I could remember it. Just one of the many ways I knew he was "the one".

F'ing Hope

Every month, without fail, I still get sideswiped by hope. A seemingly benign thing to those who have not had crushing painful disappointment—month after month. For those of us who have never see two lines on an HPT, hope is an evil, insidious laugh in your face bitch. The sort of thing that makes you feel like a fool when your period finally comes. Especially after 9 years, when you think I would know better. My uterus and I need to have a little chit chat about this, as it’s the scene of the hope. It knows there has been no action, yet refuses to be as timely as I’d like. I know my cycle is longer than 28 days, sometimes as much as 33 days. I know that this means over the course of about 6-8 months, the approximate time of the month that I’ll actually get my period shifts. Yet I seem to have some sort of amnesia, and when the time I think it’s supposed to come passes, that nasty little thing called hope crawls out. Mocking me, my uterus cramps and bloats and makes me feel like someone else. Lately it’s been worse, something I should probably look into since amazingly, after IUI’s, HSG’s, and even IVF, I’ve never had a lap done. Who knows what’s really going on in there? The only certainty is what is NOT going on. Despite the fact that I’m fairly content without a bio child at this time, I just can’t seem to help myself