Happy New Year

1. Have a safe and rockin' 2009 eve. Don't drink and drive, or I'll hunt you down.
2. ames_baby ADD IT (if you haven't already)! Do it cuz I said it.

<3

Happy Holidays

For those who celebrated Yule, hope you had a blessed day. For those who celebrate Hanukkah, hope you are enjoying it. And a Merry Christmas and Kwanzaa to everyone else. :D

I was going to post a video of the girls, but the interwebs is pissing me off, so I just leave you with *hugs*

Random

First off, since it is the New Year for me, I want to start doing things a bit differently.

To begin, I want to wish every November baby a happy birthday.
Tiffiny on the 14th
Perseus and Vane on the 17th
and Diana and Justin on the 23rd
(if I have missed anyone, let me know and I will edit this list)

Halloween went well. Lily dressed up as a scarecrow, while Iris was a little duck. It was a pleasant evening, and I worked that day. I made my costume. It took me three days to make a cute little witch hat, so I was determined to wear my costume to work, which I did, and every customer that came in that day was amused by my awesomeness. :)

For Samhain, I just lit a candle and said a prayer for all the loved ones long passed. I didn't do much, as I was exhausted from being on my feet all day at work, and then went trick-or-treating with the family, and then came home to give out candy... My house is still covered in decorations; I have to take them down and decorate for Thanksgiving now. I'll do that later in the week.

Work is good. I still enjoy it.

That is all.

Happy Birthday Iris

My baby is a year old today.

Where the hell has the time gone?

Work

Work has been going well. I like working there and my coworkers are great. The owners are also very nice and are helping me out a lot when I'm lost and confused and have no idea what I'm doing. Which is getting rare. I've even been helping train our newest teammember, Mike. He's the youngest at 16. Then there's Alex, who I believe is 17, then me.

Anyway, I'm learning a lot, like I said. Jean has been there for 30 years and is goofy and I love working with her. Ted has been here 6 mths and is a total dork, really makes Saturday fly by. And the owners are Tom and Jan.

... ... ...

There was going to be more to this post but I totally forgot what I was going to write about.

Therapy and an Update

So I've been going to therapy for the past few weeks, once a week, and the good news is that it's helping with my depression. The even better news is that the county has a sliding scale for patients with a certain income and I have absolutely no copayment for my weekly sessions. I go for free. My insurance pays the rest. Awesome.

A couple of days ago I applied at Ace Hardware since they have a large Help Wanted sign on their door. We are a bit tight financially (we're not suffering, but any surprises and we're fucked) so I went and started applying everywhere nearby again. Anyway, I had an interview yesterday. My orientation is tomorrow and I start work on Thursday. I am super excited. :D Last time I applied everywhere not a single company called. This time, not only did I get an interview but I got the job. I've been praying regularly and this time the Divine thought it was a proper time to get a job. Last time, Iris was still only a couple of months old, so even I knew it wasn't a good time. Now, she's almost weaned off the breast and almost a year old (where the fuck has the time gone?!) so it's a good opportunity.

I won't know my schedule until tomorrow. All I know is that I work Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, which are J's days off, so they work. I'll barely see my husband, but we can at least start paying off those medical bills that have accumulated over the last couple of years thanks to my sickly ass. I know we owe like 3k for my hospital stay when I had my gallbladder removed alone. And I'll be able to help out with other bills. Granted, I'm only making minimum wage, but it's better than nothing at all.

Vision Quest

I'm going through a spiritual journey right now. So I'm going to be taking a bit of a vacation from blogging for about a month or so. If you want to know how I'm doing, or you want me to know how you're doing, or you're bored as shit and just want to say hi ;) feel free to e-mail me at yvonne.ames@gmail.com. I check it daily. Or feel free to call me on my cell. Anyway, I hope everyone is doing well.

Personally, I'm pretty good right now. Been keeping distracted by reading or cleaning something. Emotionally, I've just kept it aside, and when it gets too much, I just write it down. I'll be seeing my doctor on Wednesday to talk it out. I'm tired of meds, so I'm going to see what alternatives I have for my depression and what I can do about it. I know I need to change my way of thinking, which I am working on. I've checked out a book about overcoming depression as well as the book The Secret, which I have only heard good reviews about. (Though I'm a little side-tracked, because I've been busy reading fiction by Ann Hoffman)

Again, feel free to get a hold of me if you want to. <3

My depression has been getting worse the past couple of days. It hit a terrible low on Thursday and last night I broke down in tears while praying. I thought I had gotten most of it out of my system, but apparently I was wrong. I began crying in my sleep, J woke me up to see if I was ok, and I just couldn't stop sobbing. So he scooted closer and just held me until I passed out. I know at one point he kissed my cheek when I slept, but I could have dreamt it, though I doubt it. Either way, he made me feel better.

I'm still trying to get over it. I don't know why I'm depressed. I don't know why I keep revisiting my past in my dreams. I keep having nightmares, and the only way I can sleep through them is if I take my allergy/cold medicine before bed. If not, I wake up every hour or just don't slepe at all. It's like a shitty remake scene of a Nightmare on Elm street movie. Don't sleep or Freddy wiill get you.

I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I keep dreaming of suicide or having urges of just leaving everyone, neglecting my kids, etc, when I'm awake. I haven't spoken to J about it mostly because I'm embarrased about the way I feel. Also because he usually teases me when I am sick, calls me a hypochondriac, or tries to make a joke about it. I just don't feel like being made fun of for this when its been emotionally fucking with me for the past few days.

I was slightly euphoric on Monday, and by Thursday I was damn near suicidal. I just don't know where my emotions just plummeted and I don't know how to handle it or who to talk to about it. The only reason why I'm writing it in here is because writing seems to be the best therapy I have. It's just one of those things I can always count on to make me feel a little less like a mental case.

I don't know if I can explain it. I want to be okay. I want to be functional. I want to change into a better person. But even when I try my hardest, it goes unnoticed. I want to do something, and it's like my brain shuts down and says "No, fuck you." I just don't understand why for me waking up in the morning has to be an obstacle. And I don't want it to be. I don't like feeling worthless and useless. I just don't, but for some reason I can't seem to get this feeling out.

Ugh, I annoy myself.

I've felt really low the past couple of weeks.
I've had thoughts of suicide.
I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me.
I keep feeling like I should just grab my things and go; leave everyone behind and go nowhere in particular.

I hate being sick.
And I hate my babies being sick even more.
I love the cuddle time I get when they wake up and that's all they want to do, but we're all runny-nosed and moody. Cranky as all get out.

We've been going to the library every day (or almost every day) for "school". I like it better than home because of the cute little chairs and tables and the cats and dog won't get in the way. Also, Iris doesn't eat the crayons because she's distracted by other things around her. At home she likes to tip everything over and then proceed to lick every crayon thoroughly. Lily gets to meet new people and show-off to DeAnn (children's librarian).

Twenty-one worksheets for Lily this week...I don't know how I'm going to space them out yet. We're going to Head Start tomorrow (today?) to meet with the coordinators and check out the program. It's a half-hour walk; we'll pick flowers and leaves on the way like we always do. I'm really hoping they will take her early. I'm at a loss on what to do for her when I can't seem to find a preschool curriculum (read free curriculum) that is set for 2 to 3 year olds. Everything I find is set for 4-5. She has the shapes, letters, numbers, and colors down, and we're now working on writing and drawing them all. I think everything is going well (she's writing her own name now) but it's nice to be able to learn something from the professionals.

I'm thinking of going back to school again. This time for journalism. I'm not sure though. J has never really seen any of my research or my essays. Most of them are based on research I did for my circle or Pagan classes, so I know he wouldn't really be interested. But since he hasn't seen what I can do or what I've done, he doesn't know whether or not I have a definite interest in it. I love to write, I love to do research, and I love to write about research. I've done a couple of essays for my circle's newsletter, but like I said, those all have something to do on Paganism. I'd love to be a professional writer some day, but I'm a terrible author; my imagination ain't what it used to be. I'd rather write about facts and opinions.

My strongest subjects in school, the subjects that I was placed in Advanced Placement learning for and the Talented and Gifted program (talkative and goofy), were English and Social Studies. Journalism would be a great way to combine my strongest subjects. I'll have to do a little research on schools offering and the pay and such, but I think this might be it. I would really like to continue my education and have something my girls can be proud of. Seriously, I would not like them to think of me as someone who was mediocre at best in her career--if I ever do get one.

I need sleep. I wish I wasn't so sick. Damn you, J, for giving me this cold/flu/thing/disease.

I hate being sick.
And I hate my babies being sick even more.
I love the cuddle time I get when they wake up and that's all they want to do, but we're all runny-nosed and moody. Cranky as all get out.

We've been going to the library every day (or almost every day) for "school". I like it better than home because of the cute little chairs and tables and the cats and dog won't get in the way. Also, Iris doesn't eat the crayons because she's distracted by other things around her. At home she likes to tip everything over and then proceed to lick every crayon thoroughly. Lily gets to meet new people and show-off to DeAnn (children's librarian).

Twenty-one worksheets for Lily this week...I don't know how I'm going to space them out yet. We're going to Head Start tomorrow (today?) to meet with the coordinators and check out the program. It's a half-hour walk; we'll pick flowers and leaves on the way like we always do. I'm really hoping they will take her early. I'm at a loss on what to do for her when I can't seem to find a preschool curriculum (read free curriculum) that is set for 2 to 3 year olds. Everything I find is set for 4-5. She has the shapes, letters, numbers, and colors down, and we're now working on writing and drawing them all. I think everything is going well (she's writing her own name now) but it's nice to be able to learn something from the professionals.

I'm thinking of going back to school again. This time for journalism. I'm not sure though. J has never really seen any of my research or my essays. Most of them are based on research I did for my circle or Pagan classes, so I know he wouldn't really be interested. But since he hasn't seen what I can do or what I've done, he doesn't know whether or not I have a definite interest in it. I love to write, I love to do research, and I love to write about research. I've done a couple of essays for my circle's newsletter, but like I said, those all have something to do on Paganism. I'd love to be a professional writer some day, but I'm a terrible author; my imagination ain't what it used to be. I'd rather write about facts and opinions.

My strongest subjects in school, the subjects that I was placed in Advanced Placement learning for and the Talented and Gifted program (talkative and goofy), were English and Social Studies. Journalism would be a great way to combine my strongest subjects. I'll have to do a little research on schools offering and the pay and such, but I think this might be it. I would really like to continue my education and have something my girls can be proud of. Seriously, I would not like them to think of me as someone who was mediocre at best in her career--if I ever do get one.

I need sleep. I wish I wasn't so sick. Damn you, J, for giving me this cold/flu/thing/disease.

So, last week I'm cleaning dishes and such and decide to reorganize/switch the storage of pots and pans. (They were on the opposite side by the pantry while the juice was under the stovetop) J comes in the kitchen and helps me out, there had been a few peices of wood, metal contraptions from the previous owner of this house and bits and peices of things I don't even know what they were. In this group was some left-over tile. J picks it up and heads to the basement wondering where this tile came from. He didn't believe the tile he was holding was used anywhere in the house. I grab his attention and he looks up to find me pointing in the direction of the sink/stove/counters. The left-over tile he was holding was the tile used on that kitchen wall. His response: "Oh my god! There's tile there?!" (or something along those lines, as I do not remember the exact wording--I just know I damn near pissed myself I was trying not to laugh too hard)

We have lived in this house for over a year. We moved in June 1, 2007 and last week was when J noticed there was tile on the back wall of the kitchen. He cooks, and he used to be the one who washed the dishes, so how he went a YEAR without noticing the tile is beyond me.

I love my husband. He amuses the shit out of me.

I just realized that ten years have passed. Ten years have passed since I last felt disgusting and filthy in my own bed. Ten years have passed since I hated my body so much I wanted to tear off my skin. Ten years have passed since my step father last touched me. Ten years have passed.

I'm emotionally fucked for all eternity. This I know. But I didn't do this to myself, and it didn't happen because being emo was a fad in high school. I wasn't depressed and messed up for shits and giggles, I didn't do it for attention, and it wasn't because it was “hip” or “cool.” From the age of nine up until I was twelve-years-old, my stepfather came into my room every night to touch, to rape, and to humiliate me. And every day I would go by as if nothing had happen. Every day I would hate myself more and more for saying nothing. Every night I would fight with sleep and wake up in the middle of the night to have it happen again. And every day I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to stop it. I didn't know I could.

My innocence was stolen from me when I was 9. My voice and my self-esteem and self-respect went with it. Little by little I built myself back up and slowly but surely I worked to be sane again. He came fewer and fewer times after I had begun menstruating. He came even less when I had begun to lose massive amounts of weight. And then he finally stopped. A year passed and no more late-night visits. But I would still scream in the middle of the night, I would still wake up sweating and crying, clinging on to my clothes, praying. Mentally I was caged. He had torn me apart from the outside in and out again.

At that point I had lost so much weight that my friends became concerned. I was gaunt, and frail, and terribly sick. I was forced to go to my counselor's office and there she coaxed out what I had been wanting to say for years. “Does your father touch you?” “Yes.” I was such a mess. At that time a hurricane had blown through Puerto Rico and we had only heard from half of our family. The other half, we didnt know if they were ok. (In the end, the entire family was fine.) But I was worried out of my mind. I was 13, but my nerves were shot. Add that to sleepless nights and a constant fear and well, I was slowly killing myself. I had tried to commit suicide the year before, but I just couldn't come to terms with that. This seemed easier.

I am now twenty-two. I have not seen my stepfather since I was 13 only because he committed suicide a week after I confessed to my counselor. C.I.D. had removed him from our house and he had been staying with some friends. He drove off for work that morning only to be found in his car dying from self-inflicted poisoning. He had drunk a bottle of some cleaner that I don't remember.

My mother found his diary about a year or two after we had moved back to Texas. He had written saying that he felt like he had done nothing wrong, that all he ever did was teach me. And I remembered that every night he would tell me that all he was doing was teaching me. That I needed to learn. I don't know what he thought he was teaching a 9, 10, 11 year-old, but he can't teach anyone else anymore.

One thing I know for certain is that I am strong. I much stronger than he is and I will continue to be strong. I was not the coward. I was not the one who committed suicide. I faced my fear and beat it, and even though there are nights where I still cry out for help, I am ok.

It has been ten years since my childhood disappeared. It has been ten years since I knew I could survive.

I just feel like typing right now.

Ever have the feeling of writing or typing up something but never know what to write about? i have that problem often. It's like never-ending writer's block. I keep an online journal, I keep a paper journal, and I doodle a ton, but I just can't seem to keep thoughts in one place or put creatove thought on paper. My fingers tingle and itch to type keys or grab a pencil or pen and once my hand hits keyboard or paper...nothing. My mind turns up a total blank.



Right now I'm just typing what comes to mind...a bit like a stream of conciousness. I haven't done poetry like that in a while. I prefer slam poetry though. It's a lot more fun. I haven't done that in a while, either. I haven't really written much in the past coupld of years. Just been busy with other things. Creatively speaking, I've been in a sort of funk.



I want to get a bit of extra cash so I can help out financially. I want to turn my life around and do my part financially. No one wants to hire me here, but that is only because I have very little work experience. J doesn't want me working because he thinks the girls are still too young for me to leave them with a sitter on a daily basis. Even then, we can't afford a sitter or child care. We'd actually be worse off if I did find a job and put them in child care. It's so fucking expensive. I've applied at several places in town, but still nothing. I'm willing to not spend any time with my husband so that I can work; trade off on days where he works Sunday through Wednesday and I could work Thursday through Sunday, or something along those lines. But he still thinks it's a bad idea. He really doesn't want me working, but I feel like I should be bringing in something. Anything. I've been wracking my brain for things I could possibly do out of the home for a little extra money, but like I've said previously, I am jack of all trades master of none—mediocre with everything at best. The only passion I have is my faith, so unless I can get paid for being spiritual, I got nothing. ;)



I feel so out of it lately. Even when I'm working with Lily, I space out. Right now I'm sure it's just me being sick, but I don't really know. My health is so fucked up right now, but I am working to get it back on track.



Sometimes I wish I could just sleep forever

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I need to get a bit off my chest. I haven't really put my feelings out there, and I need to release or I may just implode, and well, that's never a good thing.

Don't take pride in being different, that's just silly. Take pride in being true to yourself and not pretending to be someone you're not.

I have a love for all things different, only because they are originals. I don't mind everyday things, but why be a carbon copy of something when you can be unique and refreshing? I'm not saying be wild and outrageous in a way that's just downright annoying and destructive, but be real and honest and know who you are and what you believe in.

I embrace my individuality and don't let others bring me down. It hurts when they try, a lot. They can ruffle my feathers so bad that I make myself ill for a day. The next day, however, I gather myself up and move forward. I know I am different and sometimes bizarre, but I am not wild and rebellious. I am not destructive. I am kind, and loving, and I try my best to be a decent human being. I may not be perfect, and I may not be what a lot of people like, but I am what I like. The only people I aim to please are my children and my husband and if they are happy with me, then I am happy. I don't give a flying fig to what anyone else thinks. I do what I have to do, what I need to do, and what I want to do; what I think is best for my family and myself. And if anyone has a problem with that, they will just have to deal. Say all the mean and hurtful things you want; karma will surely come around and smack you hard. I love myself for who and what I am.

Now am I perfect? Nowhere near it. Am I special in a way where I could win awards or change the world? Probably not. But do I try and improve myself as much as I can? Absolutely. There is always room for improvement no matter who you are.

The only reason why I'm typing this is because not too long ago someone bumped my bumpers real hard and it made me so upset that for a moment I doubted myself as a person. The only reason it didn't get to me too strongly is because my husband reminded me why he loves me and what he loves about me. That made me feel fantastic. Now I handled myself as gracefully as I could with this person, but I was still very frustrated and hurt. This person had said a lot of mean and hateful things and it was difficult for me to play nice. I did, however, and just slowly began to let it go. I knew that this person would eventually get what was coming to them one way or another.

This happened a lot sooner than I thought and even though a part of me inside is jumping with glee, I feel terrible for them. I know it's karma, that universal energy that gives you in return what you had sent out. I know that it should come as no surprise, but I still feel terrible that it has happened. I just hope and pray that this person will heal and better than judge others for how they do things look at themself first before things go wrong again.

I feel like utter shit today.
I could not sleep at all last night. I didn't finally fall asleep until 4 or 5 this morning and even after I had finally fallen asleep, Iris threw a hissy fit because she wanted to sleep in bed with me and not in her crib for a half hour sometime after 6. J had to wake our asses up at 15 passed 9. I haven't slept in that late in the last for a couple of weeks now.

I've been working with Lily on her schooling. I have an old preschool workbook that I got at a garage sale shortly after she was born and have been photocopying the pages for her to write on. So far, she's been writing the numbers 1 through 4. And she can spell and write her first name. I even bought her a little pad of paper with the dotted lines specifically meant for learning to write. She's doing really well and I'm very proud of her. I tell her every day what a good and smart girl she is.

I somehow lost 10 to 15 pounds without noticing. In the beginning of spring I was a size 12 in dresses. When I was terribly sick this summer, I went down to an 8. I am currently a 6 and have no idea how I got there. I'm somewhere between 115 and 120, which feels weird to me. I haven't been less than 120 without being horribly ill since before I got married. Oh well, at least I'm eating well and keeping active.

I think I'm catching a cold.
Did I mention I feel like utter shit?

Always be true to yourself and take pride in what you are and what you will be.
Never regret anything, or the guilt will consume you.
Always be willing to forgive if not forget.
If it works for you, don't change it just because it's not the norm.
Rock out with you cock out every day of the week.

I love my husband very much. He is awesome; I should listen to him more.


Have you told yourself "I love me" today?

Ugh....

I've started my first menstrual cycle today since concieving and having the baby. The first day of my last cycle was 587 days ago. I am not happy. I'm crampy, sore, tired, bloated, cranky... however, I'm not surprised. I've been breastfeeding Iris less and less since she started eating solids two months ago. Still, I'm not very happy about the fact that my body is back to clearing out the uterus. *sigh* I hate periods.

I spent most of today cleaning up little areas of the house. My house is a total mess and if my mother wants to come up and visit, I need to clean it and soon. She returns from Honduras on Tuesday. So I cleaned up the "dining" room (It's supposed to be the dining room, but right now it has a blue papazan and a bunch of boxes) and the hallway to the living room and the front of the living room up to the computer. The entire room wasn't cleaned only because both of my cats kept attacking the broom or laying in the piles of random things for attention, or my children kept going through the mess. Thankfully I got most of it done. So tonight, after the girls are in bed, I'll be cleaning the rest of the living room and then tackling the parlor.

I don't really have much to update on. I've been cleaning little by little so that I don't drive myself nuts, but at the same time not have my house as a pig stye like it normally is. I've been reorganizing the crafting room and have moved my altar and all of my spiritual items in there as well. I didn't have a problem with it being in my husband's closet up in our bedroom, but Lily loved to go in there just to mess with my things. Too many sharp and breakable/valuable objects for her to be messing with, so it had to be moved into an area that she didnt have easy access to.

My allergies are wreaking havoc to my body. Mainly it's because I'm allergic to two of the three pets I have (cats). I love Jules and Gibbs but if I don't sanitize my hands immediately after handling them, terrible things happen to my face. ;) Also, messing with this dusty, nasty house, isn't all that great for my sinuses either.

Ever since putting Ubuntu on my iBook, I have been using this thing constantly. I love working with it. I don't do much online, but I love playing the games and with Gimp (which is a lot like Photoshop). Much fun is being had with this OS.

Did I mention that I am not happy with my body?