Ahhh, Jilly, shall I expound on the joys of living/working in the US without the luxury of health insurance, re: the exorcism of those demons? I did apply to be seen by local income based counseling group but quickly discovered that without being on government assistance or having private health insurance of my own, it was more of a “we’ll call you when…” type of deal. That was five months ago, still no call. I thought it best not to hold my breath.

Anyway, no major temper tantrums from Bub yet, so we wait. The fair was good, it rained, but it was kinda nice because there were no lines for any of the rides. And it wasn’t miserably hot as in past county fairs we’ve been to. Em was brave as ever, trying new rides and discovering instant favorites. I guess her brazenness with the roller coasters at Disney has firmly cemented her new status as thrill seeker extraordinaire. Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t go that far, but considering her intense fear of heights, she sure impressed the hell outta me! Then, on Sunday she decided that she wanted to visit with Bub some more, and actually spent most of the day at his house, WITHOUT ME! Woohoo! I’m hopeful that she’s becoming more used to the idea of spending some time with him without my constant presence. I would certainly like to get to the point where I don’t have to see the man every single weekend just to make her more comfortable. But as long as she needs me to, I will. It sure was nice though, to have the day to myself. I don’t get a lot of those anymore, so I made sure to thoroughly enjoy it! I didn’t do anything noteworthy though, just a lot of slow and lazy window-shopping, simply because I could.

In other news, I managed to find myself eating out at two separate buffets this past weekend and didn’t binge or feel compelled to gorge myself at either one. I certainly ate more than I would’ve, had I been eating my regular food at home, but I didn’t feel out of control, which is major considering my recent struggles. It was a nice feeling, one I’ve missed greatly. But you know what’s funny? Even back when I was allowing myself planned “treat” meals during the weight loss and subsequent maintenance, I stuffed myself silly and always felt like shit afterwards. This time was different. This time I ate small(ish) amounts of just what I wanted, and didn’t feel like I had to keep going back until I couldn’t hold anymore and felt sick to my stomach, which is what those “treat” meals typically ended up like. I’m not sure how much I can count on it yet, but somehow I feel different this week. Perhaps it has something to do with the OA inspired idea of counting my days of abstinence from binging which, BTW, is six days and counting. :) But it’s like I have this voice in my head saying nope, uh-uh, you don’t wanna lose your days and have to start all over do you? And for some reason this seems to matter to me. So hey, let’s just go with it, shall we?

So here’s a totally off topic, no-brainer, but something that’s been rattling around in my noggin, so I figure I might as well yammer about it here. I don’t want to have to work for living. Well duh, right? But seriously, I really don’t. I would be happy as a lark to have my days completely free, to do with as I please. I am certainly not passionate about the work I do; it brings me no joy or sense of fulfillment. I do it to pay the bills, buy some of the crap we want, and because it’s what I’m supposed to do, being a bonafied grown up and all that jazz. But things never seem get done around here because the last thing I want to do is spend my only true free time on the weekends cleaning or doing some other responsible adult like thing. I’d LOVE to be fabulously wealthy, double duh! I’m actually one of those idealistic people who think that maybe, just maybe, Publisher’s Clearing House will come knocking at my door someday, and bring with them the end to my financial woes, along with a buttload of plastic surgery, and the means to live life on my own terms. Sure, I’d still be an anti-social hermit, but at least I’d be a hermit with a clean house! Oh, who the hell am I kidding, my house still wouldn’t be clean no matter how much free time I had. But of course, being a millionaire and all, I suppose that’s what hiring a cleaning service is for, right? ;D

Hi, I’m Beverly and I’m a compulsive overeater. Apparently that’s how you’re supposed to introduce yourself every time you speak at OA. No seriously, like every single time you speak, weird. Not bashing the program or trying to be negative, it just struck me as odd, that’s all. Anyway, in case you hadn’t guessed, I went to my first OA meeting last night (Thursday). Yup, I stuck in a tape for Survivor and Grey’s Anatomy, (oh, Christina crying at the end was just heart wrenching, wasn’t it?) dropped Em off at Bub’s, tucked my tail between my legs and took the leap in hopes of finding something to save me from myself. Have I found that something? Well, that still remains to be seen. But whether it’s through this program, some other, or of my own volition, I will not continue down this path of self-destruction. I just won’t. It seems that somewhere along the way I gave myself permission to eat like shit just because I felt like it and because it tastes so darn good. What ever gave me the impression I could get away with such ridiculous behavior, given the nature of my food addicted personality, is beyond me, but I did nonetheless, and now I must work to correct the damage I’ve done. Not only physically like the bit weight I’ve regained along with the loss of muscle tone and stamina, but emotionally as well, like the loss of my drive and resolve to sustain a healthy lifestyle. So, will I “work the program” as the OA’ers say? I dunno, it all seems so churchy to me. Sure, it’s not supposed to be based on any particular “higher power”, but they all sure were saying God and He a lot. And honestly, what could I expect from living in the bible belt? Any coincidence that the meeting was actually held in the basement of a church? Hmmm… It’s all just a bit much for me. The concept of the program is good though. Admit that you have a problem, look into yourself for the roots of the problem, practice abstinence and rely on the support of others who share said problem. I get it, I do. But to turn my fate and myself completely over to a “higher power”, to “let go and let god”? I just don’t think so. No, I think I’ll just stick with being my own higher power for now. That’s not to say that I won’t adopt some of OA’s principles and tools, like I mentioned, the concept is a good one. I’m just gonna do this thing my way. It worked for me before; by golly, it can work for me again.

I’ve been hiding this week, not reaching out like I could or should, that’s just what I do when I get like this. But I have been trying to remain present and mindful of myself. I’ve been logging any food related emotions along with dates and times, so that I may get a better handle on what pattern, if any, is associated with my menstrual cycle, and also, just to see where I stand on a daily, sometimes hourly basis with my deeply emotional relationship to food. It’s been… interesting, to say the least. I still can’t help but wonder if medication wouldn’t be beneficial to some degree. Just a little something to take the edge off of my anxiety and overactive freak out tendencies. I don’t want anything that would change who I am, just something that would allow me to not make such a big deal out of every freaky little thought or emotion that happens to cross my mind. I can’t help but think that it doesn’t have to be as hard as I always seem to make it. “It” being life in general. How is it that some people can just be content with their lives? Never really giving the why’s and how’s much thought and consideration. Much like my inability to understand how some people don’t obsess about food. I simply don’t get that. How can they just not give it much thought? How can they buy a candy bar and forget about it altogether? How can they leave a carton of ice cream in the freezer until it has to be thrown out due to freezer burn? How do they not size up the buffet table like vultures, making sure to take note of what they must get to first before it’s all gone? Or wonder, when being served, if their piece was of equal size to all the others? But you know what I realized? I was one of those people for a time. Sure, I may have been faking it, or suppressing my nature so deeply that I even fooled myself into thinking I was past all that. But for a period of time, while I was losing the weight and for the two or so years after, I was one of those people, as much as someone like me could be anyway. We had sweets in the house, candy just sitting in the cabinet left untouched. Ice cream and pastries and my beloved Kashi along with a variety of other cereals, chips, and crunchy yummy things. They were there, and I didn’t eat them. Didn’t want to, didn’t crave or feel the need to indulge (for the most part anyway, I had my moments of course). So how did I do that? I can’t, for the life of me, remember now. But I did, I know I did, and I want that back, I need that back. Is that what this higher power is supposed to provide me? A sense of peace and serenity? The ability to let go of my demons and allow clarity to prevail once more? Hmmm, it certainly sounds appealing, doesn’t it? Anyway, I think it’s time I turn off my thinker and take my butt to bed. We’re taking Em to the county fair tomorrow, and I must not allow myself to be sleep deprived knowing that we have a day with Bub ahead. He seems increasingly crabby lately, so I’m guessing he’s cycling closer to the next major blow up, which is bound to happen sooner or later. I hate not knowing what it’ll be that gets him going, I feel so unprepared. But there is no preparing with him, no way of knowing ahead of time because there simply is no rhyme or reason to his madness. If it’s not one thing, it will be another, there’s no doubt about that. So I will go, and give Em the best possible time, and try to stay away from the funnel cakes and fried oreos (seriously, how good can that even be?) that seem to call to me now more than ever. And once again, I will relish in the fact that when the day is through, Em and I get to come home to peace and quiet, to our own little sanctuary of unconditional love and happiness, and know, without a doubt, that we are free.

Em is all better, and I never got it, thanks completely to all of your good vibes I'm sure! The SUV on the other hand, is in not so great shape. It's amazing what a family of six can do to a vehicle in a manner of just a few years. It will need work, and even then I doubt we get what we need out of it. I'm not happy about it, but really, what can I do? What's done is done and all we can do is make the best out of what we have. Still sucks just the same though, ug! ;D

So, here's something interesting. I dunno why, but I’ve been thinking a lot about what I did lately, y’know, the whole “great escape”, and it strikes me at how it still sends such a chill through my body and butterflies flapping wildly in my tummy. I have these momentary flashbacks every now and then, which take me right back to that place of fear and confusion. Not only that though, these little blasts from the past are, in fact, eliciting a whole other set emotions as well, namely deeply shameful guilt. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am certain that I did the right thing, and in the very best and most acceptable way, as it could not possibly have worked out better (ie, no ensuing fight on his part), but that is not my struggle. What I’m having a hard time with is just how coldhearted it was just to do that to another human being, to any human being. To pack up and leave without warning, taking Em away and hiding out for several days, him not knowing where we were. The very act of calling him at the end of that physically and emotionally exhausting day and merely saying to him, “You’ll need to find another ride home, I moved out today.” OMG, I cringe just thinking about it. It literally makes my stomach churn just to relive it in my head, as I’m doing now. Again, not saying it wasn’t necessary, believe me, I know it was. But setting that aside for just a moment, I can’t help but feel horrible over the act itself. Now, just to be clear, he’s not giving me grief about it or anything. He seems to have completely accepted it and moved on, thank goodness! Which I find interesting considering his many profound declarations of eternally lasting love, and vows to never “give up” on our relationship (which is precisely what I’ve always done according to him). Makes me wonder if he’s ever really known the true meaning of love, or if he is even truly capable of it? Anyway, he has nothing to do with this, no, this one is all about me; I’m having a hard time reconciling the necessity of it with the incomprehensibility of the act. I mean, I did that! And not in a rah rah, I am woman hear me roar kind of way. I mean, OMG, I effing did that! How could I do that… to anyone?

It’s been almost five months now. It’s amazing how easily, but sometimes I forget what it was really like. How desperately unhappy and stuck I was for so, so long. But then nights like tonight happen with Em sitting quietly in my lap, surrounded by other happy families and giggling children. We were at an outdoor theater during a community showing of The Wizard Of Oz, with a sultry southern breeze playing softly through our hair, her hand clasped tightly in mine, and her sweet head nuzzled softly into my neck. I was reminded of how tension free our new life has become, how easily we can enjoy such simple pleasures without having to walk on eggshells and wait expectantly for the other shoe to drop. How easily we can just go and do what we like now without worry of messing up in some miniscule way or another. So I pulled in a few deep breaths of her sweet smelling scent, kissed her softly on the head and closed my eyes, just willing myself to keep this feeling close, to hold it as a constant reminder of just how worth it all of this has been. How utterly and completely worth it all of this has been. I wonder though, do you think she felt it too? I hope so, I really really do.

It’s also quite disturbing how easily I’ve lost my way since then, not knowing quite what to do with myself now that I didn’t have this or anything else to focus on anymore. That’s why I think the binging got so out of hand, it was about freedom and, in turn, losing my structure. I didn’t have anything to occupy my mind anymore since I was long past losing the initial weight and then finally finding myself free from my own personal hell. Now that I look back on it, I find it no coincidence that I set out to tackle each obstacle separate of the other. The weight loss was all consuming, taking every bit of my focus and attention. After that, the reality of my marital situation began to really set in, and then my focus was on making it through one day after the next, after the next, again, all consuming. I literally concentrated on getting through one day at a time with as little conflict as possible. And on the conflict filled days? Well, there was always a new day coming to prepare for, so I tried not to dwell on them too much. That’s why I think I didn’t have the kind of trouble with food like I’m having now. I had something to focus on, so there was no time for my mind to wander. But after my latest triumph, I was left with a feeling of “now what?” Nothing? Kewl, let’s eat! And eat I did. Now? Well, at least I have something to focus on again, re-losing some weight. Woohoo, yippee! ;D Gee, think I could have at least found something a little less destructive to cure my boredom? Yeah, well, hindsight and all that jazz… you know how it goes. It’s not much, (the weight that needs taking back off) but damn how having a goal just seems to make more sense out of everything. But WTF is up with that? Seriously, can I not just be content? And now, I can’t help but wonder again, when I re-lose these last few pounds, which are coming off slowly but surely BTW, what will be next? Hmmm, guess I better get to figuring that one out. At least before it’s too late and my silly little noggin decides to throw another doozey my way. Hey, wouldn’t want to be board now would I?

The memorial will be held Wednesday… still so hard to comprehend.

Em came down with a stomach virus and got sick in school yesterday. The school tried to call my landline and got voice mail, of course, since my work is done on the phone. And apparently they tried calling my cell, but couldn’t reach me because the damn thing has taken to just shutting itself off without warning, regardless of charge level. Nice. So they called Bub at work, to no avail, and finally got him at home since he overslept (again) and hadn’t made it in to work yet (this was at 11:30). He told them he’d be there to get her ASAP (with a ride from his room mate) and apparently didn’t think it necessary to try to reach me himself. He said that if they couldn’t reach me then he figured he wouldn’t be able to either. Wha?! Um, helloooo, you could at least try! I know, I know, logical/rational, taking care of the issue at hand, blah blah blah. Whatever. Just call next time, k? Anyway, this all happened over the span of about 3 minutes, so I was able to reach both him and the school to let them know that I was on the way to get my poor sick girl, who spent the rest of the afternoon pitifully and miserably puking her guts up. Later on, the idiot says, wonder why they tried calling me (him) at work first, instead of my cell or home number? Um, because it was the middle of the day and most responsible adults would be at WORK at that time. DUH. Anyway, Em’s feeling better today, but stayed home anyway just to recuperate. So she’s been happily vegging out in front of the boob tube, eating hot chicken noodle soup and enjoying a little extra TLC. Now I’m just waiting to see if my turn is coming next, yippee.


Now, for another “Bub-astrophe” back to bite us (meaning me) right in the ass. Ug.

Long story short, a friend of the family took over payments on a SUV we were financing when Bub’s first failed computer business went under and we could no longer afford to pay for it, or anything else for that matter. We couldn’t transfer it into his name because of his own crappy credit, so we just made a deal that he would be responsible for the payments even though it was still in our name. It was the best choice at the time and it kept us from having a repossession added to our already badly damaged credit. Plus he gave us his already paid off car in trade so I was able to have transportation until said car died the next year. Well, this friend has hit some hard times of his own and can no longer afford the SUV. So we either have to take it back, along with the hefty monthly payments, and the past few months worth of missed payments, or it gets repossessed anyway and all my recent credit repair efforts will be for naught. Y'know, I want to be able to buy my own home one day, preferably before Em is grown and on her own. I want to be able to buy another car someday when my very used van decides to bite the dust. I want to be out from under this oppressive cloud of debt constantly looming overhead, reminding me of the stupidity I went along with just for the sake of peace and “harmony”. *On a side note here; y'know what really gets to me? I love how he always made sure to point out how I had a choice in every decision “we” (he) made together, how he asked my opinion on EVERYTHING, over and over and over again. Yet he will never understand how my opinions and choices with him were never based in free will, rather made out of necessity due to the fear of repercussion, whether real or perceived. Anyway, I digress. The point is, I’M fucked. Because I’m the only one with the resources or passable enough credit to get us out of this little predicament right now. So here’s the deal, I paid off the damn back payments with my credit card (he only has one with a $300 limit, which stays maxed out) and we’re getting the thing detailed and put up for sale IMMEDIATELY. It’s a nice SUV with lots extras, and is currently worth slightly more than is owed, so I’m hopeful that we can sell the thing quick, fast, and in a hurry, before then next monthly payment comes due around the middle of October. If not? Well, lets not think about that, shall we? The plan is to hopefully sell it for enough to pay it, and my newly maxed out credit card completely off. If all goes well, then we’ll at least have one less headache to contend with, along with a bit of a boost to our credit scores for having paid off this outstanding debt in full. Of course, the fact that this guy let the car payments get so far behind (never bothering to pick up the phone and let us know there was a problem, mind you) will mean a big glaring red flag of bad payment history and imminent repossession on each of our credit reports. Ug. But still better than it could have been I suppose. So wish me luck, I’m gonna need it!

Senseless

My stepsister’s long time boyfriend, whom Em and I had the pleasure of meeting while in CA this summer, was killed by a drunk driver Friday afternoon.

My heart aches. My reaction? ANGER. How dare he? How dare anyone for that matter? What gives this (or any) idiot the right to take the lives of others into his own hands by knowingly getting behind the wheel of a car while under the influence? To cut a life short, thereby affecting the lives of countless others, because he was so careless and arrogant to think that he was invincible? To think that his actions would be of no consequence to the unsuspecting souls who never even had the chance to cast a vote in how their lives would proceed that day? My only hope is that the magnitude of the depths of pain he has and will continue to cause in the lives of those affected will haunt him every day for the rest of his life, which I can only hope will mostly be spent behind bars.

Angry… and helpless. Helpless to right the wrong, to make sense out of the senseless, to lessen the pain of their grief and mourning.

Perhaps it’s naive, but I would also like to think that the realization of this tragedy has shown some other would be drunk driver how quickly this one avoidable choice can destroy so many lives including his/her own. I hope so, I truly truly hope so. Wishful thinking? Maybe. But I prefer to believe in at least the possibility of it. Something to hold on to when there is so little else.

OMG, have you seen the new Kashi Go Lean Crunch Honey Almond Flax? They just had to add nuts didn’t they? NOOOOOOOOO! Bastards. I will abstain from the cereal; I will abstain from the cereal. Sigh…

Okay, so I had this long dramatic post all prepared about how my dad and step mom somehow found it within the realm of acceptability to shun Em on her birthday just because of my colossal flub up. And man, it was deep too! Full of all sorts of reflections on the relationship (or lack there of) that I share with my father. And of the truly fantastic relationship I’ve finally been realizing I could have shared with my stepfather had I ever given him (or myself) the chance. I had a post all prepared about how I would choose to be the bigger person and never mention hide nor hair of my dad and step mom’s incredible insensitivity with regard to their granddaughter’s birthday to any of our other family members here in AR just because this is precisely the type of fodder that family drama thrives on, and because I have no desire to knowingly and willingly bring such nonsense into my life. I had decided that I would not hold a grudge should my dad and/or step mom ever find themselves in a place of forget and forgiveness. When/if either of them ever decided to rekindle the relationship, I would be waiting with an open heart. But then, in the mail today, came a card (not less than 5 days late) wishing my beautiful girl a happy 9th. birthday with a neat little check tucked discreetly inside. Which, in effect, rendered my entire martyred post completely meaningless and without merit. Well, perhaps not completely without merit. I mean, it’s not like I was surprised when I thought that they had “overlooked” her birthday. Saddened, yes, but not surprised. I had this completely realistic picture in my head of my step mom throwing up her hands and telling herself that I am dead to her now. That she would no longer talk to me, help me, go above and beyond anything for me, nor would she bother to remind my dad of special dates and occasions that are dear to me. Not that it should be up to her to remind my dad of his own children's or grandchildren’s birthdays, but he is who he is and has never been one to take responsibility for such things on his own. In fact, it’s kind of a running joke each year to see how late his birthday cards to me and my brother are. He’s just never really been involved in our lives, not like those other hands on dads I’ve seen. Of course, my brother and I have never made it particularly easy to be involved in our lives, but that’s who we are too. We all could have tried harder, but we didn’t. Anyway, that’s kind of what I was hoping to get out of this thing with my step mom, a new reason to open up and finally form a real, honest relationship with her and my dad. I know, wishful thinking. But it honestly hasn't bothered me all that much, I mean, it’s not like we ever had a real relationship to begin with, so why would I have missed something I’ve never known? But the truth is, I do know that I’ve been missing out. Something which was never made more clear than when I read my cousin’s description of her family as "the most unconditionally loving family she’s ever seen". Wow! Now that, right there, is what family is all about. That’s what I’ve been missing since I so foolishly left that same unconditionally loving family to move out here in an effort to hide from life. That love, that peace and harmony and sense of belonging, which I was so grateful to reclaim even a small part of during our recent visit to CA. That feeling is what I covet.

Ahhhh, the party was a smashing success! But whew, sure am glad that’s over! ;D No pics though, since my camera is a P.O.S and can’t seem to take indoor pictures worth a crap. Anyway, Em is officially nine years old, one more year until she’s in the double digits, four years until she’s a teenager, and OMG, I don’t even want to think beyond that! Four of the seven school friends Em invited showed up, which was a better than expected turn out, so I was pleased. Bub hung out with his parents since the friends he invited to keep him company didn’t show up and he had no one else to talk to. C’mon now, let’s all say, awwwww, poor Bubba. He and my SIL made it a point not to acknowledge each other, which was fine by me, and everyone pretty much stayed on their own sides of the roller rink. Bub was his typical self, and I think my mom put it best when she likened it to that of him showing up as a guest to the party rather than a host, when I was trying to explain to her how he usually behaves in these situations. Everything was left up to me, as usual, but I’m used to that, so what else is new? Anyway, he left directly after the presents were opened (caught a ride with his parents before they headed back out of town) saying that Em was gonna be busy skating and playing with her friends anyway and all he’d be doing is just sitting there. Wha? No one to pay attention to him? Heaven forbid! Whatever dude, it’s not like your presence was required or desired anyway. So it was kinda nice to have him gone, no pressure to hurry things along, or worrying about setting him off about something. Ahhhh, maybe next year he’ll just skip it all together. Aw c’mon, a girl can dream can’t she? Anyway, Em and I ended up hanging out at the roller rink for several more hours, along with one of her new friends (her new best friend Kaitlin, to be exact) who was able to stay for the duration as well. Which gave me a nice chance to get to know Kaitlin’s mom, Michelle, since I hadn’t met her yet, and found out that they live really near by and that she’s a single mom too. Michelle is pretty, blond and thin, just like Kaitlin. And I got quite a chuckle when she mentioned that she was trying to lose a few pounds. Ha! What I wouldn’t give! Hmm, well… now that I think of it, maybe in her eyes we’re really not all that different. I mean, she has no idea what kind of freak show lurks beneath my clothes, right? I wonder if she viewed me as some sort of kindred spirit, someone who could relate to the woes of the typical skinny chick extra ten or twenty lbs? Y’know it’s still so hard for me to realize that I’m probably not being viewed much differently (if at all) from others anymore. That I’m not automatically judged each time I walk into a room or move to take a seat. And it’s actually funny to me that people can’t just automatically tell that I spent most of my life so morbidly obese. That they would honestly have no idea unless I happened to mention it for some reason. I guess it’s odd because that’s who I was for so long that it still feels so very much a part of me, and still is with regard to the compulsive behaviors associated with it. Really, the only thing different now is my outward appearance, which is, of course, what defines me most to those around me, yet, in no way defines who I truly am. Okay, ‘nuff of that, sure is getting deep in here, ain’t it?!

Now, on to something else I’ve been pondering… I know, bad idea! But if there are any stinky boys out there reading this, go ahead and cover your ears, close your eyes, and hum. No really, go on… Hey, no peaking!! Okay, here goes; Alex recently made mention of my many turbulent moods being attributed to symptoms of PMS. Which got me thinking about just what the connection, if any, there might be. And here’s what I’ve gathered thus far. It seems that, although my menstrual cycle is sporadic at best, the hormonal cycle that has always accompanied it, seems to have remained very regular. Meaning that while I may not actually have a period (only every couple of months now) I still get to experience the oh so fun hormonal crap that makes being a woman particularly special and fun, woohoo! And it seems to follow right along with what should be my normal menstrual cycle. But since I’m not menstruating regularly, I really haven’t been keeping track of the hormone cycle, and that’s why I think my mood swings keep catching me off guard. So, what I’m gonna do is start tracking this stuff, and then maybe I’ll be able to get a better handle on when and why I’m more susceptible to emotional eating/binging at times. Certain times of the month are simply more noticeably difficult for me, and I can’t help but think there must be a real connection here. There are times when I just don’t care about cleaning, following a routine, taking care of responsibilities, etc. When all I want to do is be left alone and wallow and/or freak out about my still unknown future, and let all the scary/exciting possibilities overwhelm and immobilize me. Now, don’t get me wrong, this is NOTHING like it was while I was still trapped in Bubba hell. That last year or two especially were, well… indescribably bleak. And although I never really let on to the true extent of it, I’m certain most of you could sense it in spite of my many attempts to put on a happy face. Anyway, things are now sooooo much better, but I do still have my days, and as I’ve noticed, they seem to be predictable and part of a regular cycle. So, perhaps I’m not really as whacked as I thought? Maybe I’m just overly hormonal? Nahhhhh, still whacked! I’ve often wondered if medication wouldn’t be beneficial though. But then again, that might just be my “looking for the quick fix” nature talking. Oh well, guess that’s another one of those things I’ll hopefully get to address one day when/if I ever get some health insurance.

All right, I guess that’s it for tonight. BTW, all stinky boys may stop humming now. ;D