My First Night Out with Friends Old & New

Have you ever been here? Or have you ever done this?

 Well it doesn't matter. I had a great weekend. I saw friends on Friday night. It was incredible. My daughter and I had pizza at my Mom and StepDad's house and I pounded down a Pina Colada. Good flavors all wrapped up into one drink. It wasn't very strong, but I'm a cheap date so it seemed to help settle the nerves a tad.

Dinner was delicious as it was homemade. My Mom and my daughter ended up taking a walk while I chatted with Pop. I was nervous. My Mother, that's what I call her when I feel annoyed, had been asking all kinds of questions about the people I was going to see. I felt like I was being scrutinized like a 16 year old! I asked Pop to talk to her and let her know she couldn't call my cell phone after I left my girl with them. I am nearly 40 years old!

I wasn't going to wear anything revealing and I think I looked pretty good. My hair being platinum, right shade of lipstick, jeans, no pancake flat ass, right shirt, casual shoes I was pretty much ready to go after the "goils" got back from their walk. I let Mother know that I had my mace, cell phone, a knife in the car and I knew how to break a nose, etc. She seemed somewhat satisfied that I would be safe in the "big city" of Hyannis. Sure there are lots of drugs there, hoodlums, gangs, and occasional shootings, but I was going to my friend's house and was prepared to just go with the flow of traffic.

I was on my way after I kissed my girl goodnight, promising that I would be coming back to stay at the same house, and thanked my Mother and Pop.

I popped a whole clonazepam. It seemed to help a little bit. Me, going out to my friend's house whom I hadn't seen in 17 or 18 years..... wow. Anxiety. Shaky. Nerves, uggg! I kept my eyes on the road and focused on breathing deeply. I breathed until I couldn't take deep breathing. I turned up the stereo. It was Tool. Perfect. Time to pound the fist. Foot to the pedal. The brake pedal, the gas pedal, back and forth.

There's something very annoying about driving Main Street in Hyannis in the summer. Pedestrians cannot be used for target practice and tourists stop at every crosswalk even if no one is there to cross. So, at the detriment of other people's health, the stopping and gassing, finally subsided as I took some turns and got onto the right roads.

I was ready. I quickly reapplied my facial powder. Turned the music down a tad. I pulled out my mace and placed it in an area that was easily accessible. I was at my friend's house. Nerves jumping out of my body.

Then I saw them. The cats... several. I walked slowly up the driveway to this older home with a stonewall, cracked paved drive, overgrown plants everywhere, low chainlink fence and gates and cats. I crouched and slowly moved lanquidly and called the felines to me. Never look a cat in the eye if you want his attention and you are a stranger. Two cats came and sniffed me out. They were light colored. One looked like it was a buff color with medium length fur. The other looked so bright in the moon light. Perhaps it was white. All white. Like white light and love and innocence. Oh my.... an angel cat. Soon my friend caught site of me and I raised my body into a standing position as he called me in.

Most of the anxiety had disipated. It was a warm hello and a giant hug! He looked great! He didn't look like the wild curly long haired wrestler type from the 80s and 90s. He looked like the strong, shaved headed, intensely staring man with the generous smile that was moving with words. Tall, wearing a red shirt, sporting a squarish goatee, dark brown cargos and hip black boots, he was there. The most intense brown eyes! He looked great! When we hugged I didn't feel the bulk that I expected to feel. He was muscular and all, but light. I thought about what it would be like to run and jump into his arms for a hug, but I would have knocked him over and he, the Siberian cat, would have growled and hissed.

I was happily surprised that I was receiving compliments on my lack of aging, platinum hair, beautiful skin and so on. It feels so good to hear these things. Earlier in the day my daughter corrected me when I was putting myself down. She told me to apologize. I apologized to her then I apologized to myself. I felt good. My daughter is turning into a slightly different version of me. Oh, I felt beautiful under the 97% full sturgeon moon. Luna, my love, you make me glow. Oh, how I blush! Thank you for lighting my way.

I was walked into the house. It was about what I expected. It was somewhat clean and orderly, somewhat disorderly and dusty, anitiques and old pictures, cats here and there and in the bedroom chairs to sit on, drawing pads, paints, a paint speckled floor and complete with my newest friend perched on the bed with a scribble pad and pen. 

Here we were. Three artists. I didn't feel strange having brought my drawing pad with me and my two finest Sharpies. My old friend, Rio, rolled his own organic cigarettes as my new friend, Dicky, and I drew strange creations.... and gave them life. Seeing that my friends were male and more of the sensitive nature, they talked of romance, and love and how most women don't choose the nice guy. They spoke of their loves lost and how they had been abandoned. They joke about homosexuality, asked me what women liked, spoke poetically, of sensuality, the lack of creativity, and hysterically with laughter.

We all shared our depression, anxiety and personalities. It was a wonderful melding of the minds. It was safe. I wasn't under a microscope and neither were they. I didn't filter myself like when I'm at the bus stop and I usually get the strange little looks that the other moms don't think I see. I felt confident. We talked a lot about how we felt different. We all knew that if we walked into a restaurant like Friendly's or something, people would stare. I look kind of like Delores with the platinum blond hair and short crop cut. Reo had stated that one! Reo looks like a tall and rough spirit, and Dicky looks like a renaissance man wearing plaid shorts, long curly hair, and a black shirt. Yes, we would blend in amongst ourselves.

It was the best night out in so long. We must meet once a month and do this, whatever it was.... create romance through our actions, create art with our visions and our hands... make what we want. Pure bliss.

Tomorrow Is Just Another Day On The Calendar

Tomorrow is just another day on the calendar. Life goes on and goes out. It's the circle of life. It will be August 21st, 2010. Just another day of summer. It will be a Saturday and the weather is supposed to be dry and in the 70s. Perfect.

Three years ago on August 21st I had a two men approaching my door. My husband had already left for work and my tiny four year old daughter was with me, curious to see who was at the door. It was a very beautiful day. I remember the sun was out and I was scared because of the night before. It looked like a day just like tomorrow is supposed to be. My daughter and I were going to find a different place to stay.

The men turned out to be detectives from the Dennis Police Station. One of them had found my husband, dead, on a beach we used to go to called Crowe's Pasture in Dennis. They said that he had hung himself with his belt from the door of his truck.

I can't believe this was three years ago. It is so surreal. My daughter and I lost everything. We have come so far from then and I have changed so much. She has grown through her times of despair and just growing up. I would never wish this on a child. I feel guilt that she doesn't have a father. I have a father and she has pointed this out to me. We both know it's not fair. Her Daddy would have been 50 years old this past January. I turned 37 in February, but sometimes I feel like I'm 100 years old in my head. Sometimes my body doesn't seem to want to cooperate with me. They call it aggravated PTSD, depression, agoraphobia, and social phobia. Fun. And my daughter has PTSD, but she has come a long way!

This would have been the night my daughter and I stayed at our neighbor's house even though my husband had been served with the restraining order. Oh, I felt horrible about everything. My daughter was scared and I was trying to act normal. Nothing was normal that night.

I had gone to the court earlier that day. Someone from Independence House, a place for abused women, helped me with the paper work and told me that it was really up to the judge and what I said that would determine whether or not I got the restraining order.

My husband had been going downhill after returning from the war. It was physical, mental and emotional. He had all of the classic war time symptoms of PTSD and had a failed suicide attempt in 2005. As time went by he started to use drugs, drink more, stopped coming home, became angrier, more violent and less willing to pay attention to me and my daughter. He was sick.

The day he was even more rough with my daughter I knew I couldn't let it get worse. It was one thing to push me around and scare me. It was one thing to throw furniture and yell at me and scare the crap out of me and put me down, but to start physically shaking your own daughter, I had to draw the line. He had started to spank her. He hurt my baby. He talked about violence in front of her. He demeaned me in front of her and she tried to protect me from his vile words and his physical attacks. I remember the time he used an army move on me and I landed on the floor. That hurt the most. When he cornered me and breathed those fumes of alcohol and tobacco into my face while he blasted me I just wanted to curl up and die. Then he would be drunk in front of my baby. He would get angry if she tried show Daddy something. He would yell at her. She even tried negative attention, but then he started the shaking.

I ended up getting my order. The judge listened. I told him it was for me, but more importantly I had to protect my daughter from my husband. It wasn't safe anymore. Everything was in writing. The police reports I had I wrote about as well as the unusual behaviors, violence, abuse, and other restraining orders as well as his prior suicide attempt. It was also noted that he was a veteran of the Persian Gulf war and the War in Iraq.
There goes my hero.

The detectives said that I may want to have my daughter go somewhere else. I came outside and then I saw their faces shining in the sun. They had a certain look. I had seen that look before in 2000 when I was told about my boyfriend's suicide. It was the same exact look. It was serious, brows furrowed, concern, fear, and I could tell they were uncomfortable. It was the night after the restraining order had been served. They told me that they had found him dead. They told me how and said that it was quick. They said that hanging is a quick death. I couldn't understand. They stayed with me while I went inside, got my daughter dressed and called for a friend to take her for the day. I called my parents and told them what had happened. They called a grief officer to the house.

Tomorrow will be three years for me and my daughter. Things are different. I still have his ashes. I need to have most of them buried in the National Cemetery and they will put down a plaque in the ground for my hero. There will finally be a place for us to visit. The rest of the ashes will be tossed into the harbor he played at when he grew up and where he fished as he grew older. My daughter still wants me to get a small stone for our yard.

This whole week has been creeping up on me. I have felt sad, mad, raging, furious, happy, disappointed, lonely, out of this world, like a loser, and just like I want to run away. I haven't been the best company even for myself. I love my daughter and we had been arguing a couple nights ago, but we worked it all out and talked about what each of us was feeling. We didn't go to bed scared or angry. We went to bed happy and knowing that we love each other no matter what.

I still feel alone though. I hate the fear of losing someone. My sister is in the ER now. She has type I diabetes, M.S. and she also has fluid on her skull. I don't want to lose her. I worry every time my girl is away from me even though it's good for us to have time apart. I worry about my parents leaving earth too. I worry about everyone. I even say a prayer every time I see a dead animal or hear or see an ambulance. I pray routinely. Obsessive compulsive behavior makes me feel safer in this scary world I live in.

I wish I could hold his hand just one more time. He still haunts me when I dream. It's like he hasn't settled.

For my daughter I will only call him a loving father and a hero. Someday I will have to tell her the truth. I pray that she doesn't hate me when that day comes. I never want to lose her. We both have lost so much. But, in spite of this great loss, we have gained a great appreciation for life in all its forms and for the love we have for friends and families. We are a team.

Tomorrow is just another day...... I will go on just like it was any other day because I am strong and that's exactly what it is.

The Explosion

Hyperarousal.... no not aroused sexually, I wish! Everything is overstimulating, stressful, awkward, nerve wracking! I took my meds this morning, but the anniversary of my husband's death is coming up. I can't believe it will be three years. Why do I still have to have feelings? Well, about this. I want it to be over.

It's been three years. Why can't the haunting in my dreams go away? Isn't the brain working things out when we sleep so we can be sane when we are awake? Too many questions and not enough answers. I had better make sure my med box is full.

I have been feelings so low, critical of myself, undeserving, loathing, exhausted, angry, sad, happy, enraged, impatient, and ready to explode. I want to smash things apart. I would love to take all of the glasses in the house and just smash each and every one into the sharpest shards and then take the shards and cut things up with precision. Things that I love would be gone, like my husband. I don't want to hurt anything. At least I wouldn't be hurting myself or anyone else. This is so intense and so hard to bare.

My shrink tells me that I'm too hard on myself and carry undeserved guilt. I don't know about that. I feel like I must compensate for my husband not being here. I must have conditioned myself to do that. I have learned to do just about everything I need to do to get along without anyone else. I can provide for my daughter with our benefits, I can pay the bills, clean the house, keep up the yard, and be a decent mom. I am working on getting an under the table paying job. Am I doing the best I can though?

FUCK! The twisted brain I have asks too many questions. I like playing heavy metal really loud, drawing with Anna, hiking, biking, nature, etc. and I have a warped and sometimes sick sense of humor. My only social contacts besides family are mostly lived out through facebook. I am somewhat hermitized as I only go out if I have to and feel braver when I have my daughter with me. WTF?

Last night I seriously thought I was going to explode gelatinous me all over the kitchen at a few points because my blood seemed to be beyond the boiling point! It was like I was the egg left in the pot of boiling water or the Gremlin in the microwave that's ready to pop! Damn, that would be messy.

It's just a hard week emotionally. Why wouldn't it be? I hate dates sometimes. Even holidays aren't as fun as they used to be. They trigger all kinds of despair, worry and memories (some good). Meditate, yeah right! Maybe I need a nap. I cannot tell you how guilty I felt taking an hour long nap yesterday! I tried to make up for it by staying busy for the rest of the day and into the night.

Oh, and what a night! My daughter had tantrums, I had difficulty keeping my cool, hence the wine and me nearly becoming all over the walls. Finally, after many time outs and one big, long mother to daughter talk about how we were feeling, we were able to say to one another "I love you." Then it was bedtime. She is so beautiful. I really have to remember to get down to that seven year old mentality. She is the one I love the mostest in the whole Universe.

I hope I behave myself better today. I guess I'll be a shut-in as usual. I'll do the usual chores that must be done, feel what I feel, and later I shall pick up my lovely girl at camp. Oh, energy please come back! I want to take a walk with my sweetie. Over the hills and through the woods.... maybe we'll spot an owl again!

Don't worry, my daughter has a therapist and someone to play with for respite and plenty of support. She is doing really well. She doesn't try to kill me anymore like in the beginning after her Daddy's death. Sometimes she lashes out physically, but there has been a dramatic decline in those behaviors. She's what the therapist calls "passively defiant." She is awesome though. What a talented and sweet girl I have. She is my blessing. I pray that I don't fuck her up. I pray also that she has a long and happy, well adjusted life.

Note to self: do not forget to take half dose of clonazepam within the next hour. Also, recheck ECG. Meds suck. No lock down facilities this year.

Biking Can be Fun, Sometimes

Today was like the usual except I didn't get enough sleep and neither did my daughter. Normally I love thunder and lightening, but last night it was so loud I swear it could have woken the dead down the road in the old cemetery! My girl came running into my room, cat jumped and hid under the bed, and I spoke reassuring words to calm us all down and hoped for sleep to come again. It was hard enough to stay awake after taking the trazodone. Now I really needed to get those Zs. I don't jump back the way I once did.

 I woke up to the same annoying tourist's dog barking, saw my lovely daughter sleeping still, turned off nightlights, got water bottles back to the fridge, and went to do the morning routine.

I popped my meds down the hatch with big gulps of ice-cold water. It always feels good to know that I've taken everything I'm supposed to take to keep my head above water so to speak. The water cools my chest as it runs down the tubes in my body. Refreshing. Then I decided to tackle the job of waking the child.

She was easy to arouse as she was already awake, but playing "possum." Once I got the first giggle out of her it was all over! "Okay sweetie, time to get up! I saw you smile!"

After getting her to eat breakfast and get dressed, I did my usual giant cuppa cawfee, showered, and dressed also. She continued to watch the Disney Channel. I hate that channel.  It has become an obsession for her. UGGGG!

Well, finally, after quite a bit of housework, a bit of mischief, and a decent lunch, we were headed to the bike trail. It was about 84 degrees out and humid. The sun was in and out, but we were prepared with water, snacks, etc. Then we started off!

I soon realized that I had to stay further behind my daughter or I would just have to keep stopping, getting off, walking, and then starting over again. I have to get her used to riding without training wheels (all in good time). But it was still fun.

There was a place along the marshy part of the trail she wanted to show me. She suddenly stopped and I hit her rear tire, then some touron who had been riding my tail hit my rear tire and ended up telling her that I needed a warning when she was going to slow down and stop! I tried as nicely as I could to let her know that we could have all been turned into smashed bike trail meat. She was soooo pissed at me. I think me correcting her actions were most embarrassing of all. I kept telling her to hug the right side. The people on the trail were mainly maniacs with no regards to a little child. Every time she veered to the right, I corrected her. At least some people mentioned that they were passing on the left.

Then we finally made it to that special marshy place near the bike bridge (where you can give the finger to the tourons leaving the cape and that's what I felt like doing). It was lovely. Little green crabs scuttled around as the fiddler crabs with their one over sized claw came in and out of their crab holes. It was a shiny crab show! I'm so glad she shared this with me. She was so excited and stood on the wood rail to see better. We watched for at least 5 minutes and talked about how fascinating the crabs are. She even told me a story about a really big crab that she wasn't even afraid of.

Then off to the races. It was pretty slow trekking again. We walked over the bridge. I think my girl was actually very scared to go down the other side of the bridge and use her brakes. I can't blame her. This is still a somewhat new sport for her and there were so many bikes out there. We walked our bikes across the crosswalks after we had stopped. I couldn't help myself when I kept saying, "hood ornament," as people rode across the walks that are across roads. I kept thinking about how I drive and how I wouldn't have thought twice about driving over the crosswalk unless I saw a pedestrian.

At one point there was a bike officer stopped near the beginning of one of the crosswalks. He was still straddling his bicycle and a car stopped so he could ride across. I was glad to see him wave the car on. I can't stand it when the people in cars, who are the traffic, actually stop to see if there are bikers that "need to ride" across the walk. That pisses me off royally.

The different habitats were lovely as usual. We usually walk the trails. There are the really woodsy, swampy, and marshy habitats. We see a lot of wildlife when we walk.

Later, on our hot and sweaty ride that lasted about an hour and a half, we saw two parents teaching their little boy how to bicycle with his new bike. He couldn't have been older than three or four. He had a helmet on and was rearing to go. I kept thinking though, why are they teaching him here? Why don't they find someplace he can learn to ride safely? Then later I saw the two same parents and that little guy ride across the crosswalk onto the next section of bike trail. These people were teaching bad habits to their little toddler. I just hate the way the biking has become so fucked up here. It's a nuisance.

Last year I got hit by a biker when i was slowly driving across one of those crosswalks for pedestrians. He was yelling and screaming at me like I had broken the law. I just stopped the car completely. I was so nerved up. It's scary being in a car and having something just dart out and hit you! Then to have this guy start screaming and yelling at me...... I did tell him that I had the right of way and that if he had crossed as a pedestrian it would have been different. He was uninjured and so was my car. He continued to yell. I asked him to just get a brochure from any one of the bike stores on the rules and regulations and he could see for himself. My Gawd, I had my daughter in the back. Well, out of curiosity and my heart pounding still, I went to the Police Station to find out what would happen if he had creamed me and ended up flattened homo sapien. Turns out he would be at fault. If any biker rides across and hits a car and damages it or anything we should all be advised to call 911. Be careful out there!

So, at any rate, my daughter recited the words "I'm not doing this ever again," over and over again on our ride back to the car. She told me she was embarrassed and knew exactly what she was doing. She's seven so she knows everything. Right? We were both sweating balls of water and I turned the A/Cs on when we got home. We proceeded to get into cold water in the bathroom and the arguing stopped and the rest of the day was fine.

I vow as of this day that I will not engage in bike trail activities until the weather is cooler, there are less people, and my daughter is more experienced. I don't want to be one of those dumb jack asses out there on the trail! And I don't want my girl getting hit!

We shall invest in new helmets. Viking helmets with large horns! We will remain unscathed as we bike the trails in full body armour! Ha ha!

Until later.

Oh my, I think it's time for a 1/2 milligram of clonazepam.

Homework, Brain Farts & Coyotes

It's almost 10 p.m. My brain feels like there's a small vice lightly holding it in my head. My eyes are droopy and I'm having difficulty seeing the letters here. I have been doing my homework after a long day of chores, fears, errands, and being the only adult. I am trying so hard to be the best Mommy I can be. Is it enough?

Oh yes, my homework. Yes, I took my meds, but I've been reviewing government. I need to refamiliarize myself with the state and local branches of government as well as many committees. I have many research papers and books to read, as well as other assignments. I have homework because I decided to add some substance to my life.

I don't like studying government. I truly dislike politics. They majorly piss me off. I don't like to be around angry people who are talking politics. It's all dirty. Messy. I would rather do without. I have to be clean. I must clean up my mouth, keep breathing very deeply, take my clonazepam as needed, and try not to put my head up my arse. Good luck to me. Me and my damned temper too. I have to breathe.

I have a passion and I'm not going to sit on my ass and let it go. I'm going to make my passion into a reality. I'm doing it by researching and getting in touch with the right people. It's going to be difficult to juggle single momhood, work and this new adventure, but I'm excited. It's time to save the eastern coyote from slaughter. I'm starting with my state. But first I must start in my town. Luckily I have some key players. Some of this is either luck or the great above and some of it is my own persistence.

My head might not be screwed on right and sometimes I want to take a swing at some obnoxious turd at the grocery store. There are other times I get triggered (will explain more later) and feel like running away or just clawing away at someone or something or screaming bloody whatevers, but that needs to be worked out. I cannot lose it. Actually, I've done pretty well besides that incident last year. Was it last year? I think it was. I hate P.T.S.D. I get angry when I'm scared. When I get angry I feel adrenaline and nervous energy. Not good combos. Now let me say to you that I am not by nature a violent person. This is something that happened to me. I am gentle and kind. I am paranoid and insecure. I can't tell you if I'm a good person or not. I think I am, but I'm really not sure. I live in a semi-surreal state of mind. It protects me.

The best way I'm handling my unbalanced brain chemistry is by accepting it, exercising like crazy, writing about it, and praying. It's all out there in the Universe now. I have been reaching out. I'm going to prove to myself that I can make positive change happen even though I'm scared to death to go outside of my home on a most days. I also don't like being in public buildings and I feel edgy. But, I can do this.... I have to.

This is the opportunity and doors are opening. The Universe must be calling to me. Maybe my brain is not as unbalanced as I believe it is. I don't know. All of the medications do something to alter things. I don't feel like doing talk therapy anymore. I have to get past my husband's suicide. I have to do this and be strong so my daughter can follow my lead. On August 21st of this year, the 3 year anniversary of my husband's death, I will turn over yet another stone and write out another list of goals.

This year I think one of my goals is to NOT have a mental breakdown. It's never really good to have a breakdown and it's not very healthy for the wallet. And talk about being worried about your child! Well, I guess this story will continue another time. I need to get some Zzzzz's. First I need to take the Trazodone, then the Topamax for the headaches. Yes, the drugs will knock me out.

Oh yes, I am also tracking the beautiful and mystical coyote again in the fall. Yes, again. I have to work on my yips and howls. I feel like the picture of that eastern coyote sometimes. Ever feel that way? Just look beautiful but also really fucking pissed off? Just kidding around ~ sort of.

Good night world.

Unbalanced and Lovely All At Once

My world is unbalanced and lovely all at the same time.

I am a single mom and a widow with a host of mental blocks.

I became a single mom when I had my daughter even though I had a husband. He was in Iraq during war time. Even when he returned and seemed okay for a short time, he wasn't and he quickly dismissed me and our new baby girl. He had Post traumatic stress disorder. This is a psychological disorder that can be acquired by people in combat zones, or anyone in a situation where they have a perceived threat of death or something traumatic has happened to them. It is an experience that alters their brain in such a way that they are different. My husband came back from the war that way in 2003.

I had already been diagnosed with P.T.S.D. in 1992 for sexual assault and rape. I had other diagnoses like depression and social phobias as well as agoraphobia. They have all been ongoing and manageable throughout the years. Yet, at times, they do become very dificult to manage. I do take some medications to help with the anxiety and depression. I do force myself to do things like go out into public and take my daughter to social functions. I even try to participate in local community functions to better educate myself. It is difficult. There are triggers that can bring on symptoms very easily.

At any rate, after a very difficult marraige and no lack of hard work, my husband committed suicide on August 21st, 2007, leaving me a widow, but even worse, leaving our daughter fatherless. This has been very traumatic for her and we are continuing to work through our loss. I feel much worse for my daughter's loss than mine. I still have a father. The one saving grace for her has been her age. She still feels a stigma because she feels like she is the only one without a father. Soon, she will find out that is not true. One of my friends just lost her husband. Her children are the same age as my daughter and they go to the same school. I would never wish this on anyone knowing what hell we have been coming out of. At least we may be able to help them a little bit due to our experiences.

So, there you have it.... the short version on the last few years of my life. I'm still somewhat agoraphobic. I have triggers that make me feel irrational fear and my adrenaline gets pumping and I need to feel safe. I carry mace, have tools for defense in my trunk in case I'm at the grocery store and someone comes up behind me. I carry concealed weapons in my car. When I'm out in the woods I carry mace, a cell phone and a weapon, whether it's a very heavy maglite or something else. I need to feel that I'm safe and I need to protect my daughter. We've lost so much.

My husband was the third suicide I have been through. It is ugly and surreal to this date.

Self-preservation is something that must remain with me.

Life is also lovely. I love watching my daughter grow up. She is wonderful. I love being a guide as she grows and learning from her. I enjoy being 7 again sometimes. It's important for me to be able to communicate at her level, but also to remain the parent. We get along very well and both share a great love for family, friends, pets, wildlife, hiking, saltwater swimming, the arts, music and so much more! I love my daughter more every day that she exists.

There is so much beauty that captivates me every day. It can be a single bird, the way a blade of grass curls next to a peice of nutgrass, the single rose that is blooming in the front yard, the sighting of an osprey, Patch the squirrel who frequents our yard, the flock of crows who visits our yard and chases the fox away, or the beautiful and controversial eastern coyote that lives in our neighborhood. It's the times we go to the bay and meet with friends and swim in the warm waters and slap at green head flies, the conversations about our children and watching them create drip castles adorned with shells, seaweed and feathers.

There is beauty everywhere. All I have to do is breathe and open my eyes and it reveals itself.

I'm a wildlife conservationist. I have goals and I have causes that I'm invested in. I have to do this! This is how doors are opened. This is how we save ourselves by saving others and they do not need to be human.
We must save earth and its inhabitants. This has to be universally understood. The message is being delivered.

Am I scattered? What was I going to do next?

Have you ever felt so good you wanted to leap and bound and become one with the Universe? I have. Today is one of those days.

Welcome to my world: Unbalanced and Lovely

This is me sometimes. Yes, I have jagged teeth and my face looks scary. I get really upset. I don't want to go anywhere and I feel all twisted up in my stomach. I need to run, or jump up and down for a long time. I have this frenzy in my head. Nervous energy. I'm on edge. Where's the mace? Do I have a weapon nearby? Why can't I remember anything? What is wrong with me? Did I take my meds?

Does anyone else live like this?

This is part of being a little mentally unbalanced partly due to genetics and partly due to circumstances.

Then there are the days and times that life is just lovely. It's beautiful. I can't get enough.