Waiting

The waiting place in life is a horrid place to be... but I'm usually over impulsive and I know that. I want to get out of Benson. I have the money to get out of Benson. Yet the idea of moving forward into the even more unknown has shaken me so. Last night I was sure it would be better to stay here, save the money for a rainy day and just exist. This morning I'm sure it is time to move on where there are more opportunities for my family and myself. A bigger town, more to do for the kids, a place where my dog can call home, a fresh start, a new beginning... but what does that beginning bring with it - what if's can drive one to absolute insanity so I don't even want to begin that game... One can what - if life away and to death. Sometimes I think we just need to trust in our own strength, our own knowledge of the world and ask God for his blessing, especially if where we are currently is toxic and not good for us - not feeding our soul what it so desperatly needs in order to be at peace with the world. There are times I miss having someone to make big decisions although he never did - it was always up to me... and so far I haven't really screwed things up too badly - I don't think one can unless they walk toward the dark side of the world. As long as one is working on the light our trials and tribulations will always work out to bring us somewhere beyond where we were. Hmmmm... thinking, contemplating - both can be over done. Sometimes you just have to do what your heart tells you is right and let the rest of life follow. So no more waiting - time to move on... tired of the questions of the people in this town...

Anger, Frustration, Bitterness or Moving On

I think when one is attacked in some way or another for there are thousands of ways to be attacked. In my particular case, unemployment even though I was the senior person on board, losing my ranch, selling my horses, just in order to file bankruptcy, then learning to accept from other people, living in low income housing where my kids are actualy safe and the appartment actually meets our needs. Oh yes and lets through a hospital visit and divorce in there just to round out the whole mess.

Sometimes I'm angry because I think other people did these things to me. When I'm rational (usually) I know that the choices (mostly but not all mine) have lead me to this road where I am at. So here is frustration - not wanting to take responsibility for all that has happened since I sincerely don't believe it is all my doing. So am I avoiding responsibility or are there times when others just mess with our lives to their benefit.

Then bitterness - that was my place today. Not bitter toward my self. Bitter toward my ex boss for talking me out of a job interview to teach thrid grade at a good school in Sierra Vista, which I'm sure I would get... and then getting laid off 2 weeks later - of course the job was gone. So I'm working on not being bitter.. I think I'm past frustration and past anger, but bitterness still knocks on my door on a regular basis... oh and yes let me not forget his comforting words earlier when I was in the hospital that my job was being cut by 2/3 and so was my pay... while I was in the hospital - and I still felt loyalty to this man - how many time should one have to be kicked in the head before they figure out the situation.

Then anger at my ex husband (JBJ - John the Bastard Jackass) for the abuse he put myself and my children through. The begging him to leave the ranch so that the kids and I wouldn't have to move - he of course refused... so I packed up the kids sold the horses and moved... life was changing. Now of course he has a new truck and is mvoing into a new double wide manufactured home. Frustration raged when I found that all out - did I think about throwing rocks through the windows of his new, soon to be moved into home - you bet I did... but that would have taken a lot of alcohol and I would have been in jail since the whole damn town knows me.

So moving on to bitterness - am I bitter - hell yeah... but I'm working hard to free myself of this bitterness... you see anger, frustration and bitterness make the doctors of the world think you need medication. I don't need their medication - I need my life back - which brings us to moving on... time to get over all shit or at least start shoveling myself out. The beginning is taking care of myself hence the exercise and weight loss goals which are helping - although this week since I have doubled what I do my body isn't too happy with me. Eating less and more healthy has becomeso much easier without the anger, frustration and bitterness to drive my desire to comfort myself with food. Now I can comfort myself with the Lord, exercise, and curling up in my very comfortable bed - all by myself so I don't have to fight over the stupid blankets.

The next step in moving on I suppose is moving to a new town. Lots of memories here, can't go to the store without being confronted with former parents or students that I loved and taught and cared about. Time for a new beginning somewhere... the farther away from here of course the better, but family is here so I'm sure I will stay close. Family is important to me - I need my dad as much now as I did when I was 16... actually I probably need him more, his wisdom and his advice. And at 42 one can admit that they don't know anything, even if they thought they did know something. A new season of life - a new beginning and muscles that just think this sucks... at least for another week or so... they will adjust to their new life as will I.

Peace and Love,
G

Max

Max was more than a great dog. He was a great friend. He would listen to me when I was sad or depressed or when I was silly and happy he would be right there to act stupid with me and play. He had a way of smiling and kissing me that always made me feel better.

I remember the first day I brought Max home. Dad didn't really want a dog (he had made that quite clear and I was 23 so I should have known to listen by then), but I knew he had a soft sot for Dobermans so that is what I brought home. I was petting Max on the couch when Dad walked in. He didn't say Max had to go. He didn't yell or get mad. He just looked at me, smiled, shook his head and told me to get ready for soccer practice. He and Max were instant friends if he cares to admit it or not.

As Max grew older he needed more exercise so Dad and I would take hi to the high school and throw balls for him to chase. Max loved to chase balls, but he didn't like bringing the balls back. For him it was a big game of chase - I have the ball - now you come and get it. One time I got the ball away from Max and was standing about 10 feet from my dad. I threw the ball and Max turned and plowed right into my dad. His glasses went one way and his body went another, with him landing right on his bottom and Max not even being phased. Once we realized my dad wasn't hurt we both laughed like mad.

Then there was the Thanksgiving Max sliced his leg open. We had some broken pottery in the back yard which we had used to fill in a hole. I was playing throw the ball and chase Max when I threw the ball and Max slid into the broken pottery. It cut his front leg open almost to the bone. There was blood everywhere and I was really scared. We tied a tourniquet onto his leg to try and stop the bleeding... but we were in Guam and it was Thanksgiving. Eventually we found a vet who agreed to meet us and check out his leg. She and I ended up doing emergency surgery on that dog that day. I thought it was totally cool of course since I had always wanted to be a vet in the first place.

Max of course could never leave his stitches alone and was always tearing them out. Eventually the vet gave up trying to sew him back together and suggested we take him swimming in the ocean. That is when our Sunday morning beach walks began. Dad and I would wake up early on Sunday mornings, load up Max and head for the beach Max loved swimming in the water and chasing butterflies down the jungle path. He loved to wrestle with my dad in the salty ocean water and dive.

Max was a great dog that my dad and I shared for fourteen years. I even brought him to Arizona when I came back to the states, after all he was my very best friend. Then one week I noticed he wasn't getting up as fast as he used to. He wasn't walking very well either. My dad was scheduled to go on a sailing trip and we both thought Max would be okay until my dad got back in a few days. But by that Saturday Max couldn't get up anymore.

I remember carrying Max from the house to the car thinking "this is it old buddy." I drove him to the vet where they ran tests. They told me Max was full of cancer and needed to be put to sleep. I remember holding Max's head as he ran toward heaven. I was thinking - now you can chase those butterflies and swim forever.

I miss you my friend.