Why I Love My Ink

I didn’t get my first tattoo until I was 45.  As I’ve said before…it was a mid-life thing (assuming I live to be 90).  It was cheaper than a sports car or plastic surgery and way less damaging than an affair.  I got a simple Om symbol in the small of my back (yes…tramp stamp).  I chose that spot because it was the place least likely to change regardless of what my body did as I aged…when I die at 90 it would be mostly recognizable.  In addition, the symbol had, and continues to have a deep, spiritual meaning for me.  My life was in the shitter at the time and I needed something.  I expected it to help…it did…a little.

What I didn’t expect was to fall in love with all things ink.  When I grew up the only people who had or got tattoos were bikers, sailors, gang bangers or trashy women.  To have a tattoo meant that you were part of the dregs of society and any friends I had that got tattoos at 18 or so, were in the process of having theirs removed while I was going under the needles.  But the art was evolving and I was fascinated.  I wanted something that was private and just mine (at my age there wasn’t any danger of my thong and tat peeking out of my jeans at a party) and my new art filled the bill.  I was in love.

So much so that I planned and thought about my next piece almost immediately.  I had my daughter (the artist) design something around my Om symbol that would not only add color but make it more meaningful.  Around my symbol she drew six cherry blossoms (for each of my kids), five little buds (for each of the grandkids) all of which paid homage to my hometown, Washington, DC.  In my 50th year I had that one inked on my back during a business trip to Orlando.  I got lucky and the artist did a wonderful job but thinking back, I should have waited and done some research…it could have gone very, very wrong.

By then I was watching Miami Ink, LA Ink, InkMaster, Best Ink, and any other tattoo show that came on TV.  I love hearing the stories of why people want to change their bodies permanently and I love watching these amazing artists do their work.  Some are silly and irresponsible while others are joyful and celebrate life.  Then there are those that are sad and pay homage to loved ones lost.  Some are ill placed (neck and hand tattoos????? risky) while others are hidden so well only that “special” person and the owner will ever see them.  All are fairly expensive and the really good ones by the really great ones are sometimes actually cost prohibitive. 

The one I saw that truly changed my opinion of tattoos forever was a picture in a magazine of a woman who had a radical mastectomy on both breasts and was left with horrible disfiguring scars.  Instead of attempting reconstruction (always a deeply personal decision) she had the most beautiful tattoo done over her chest and under her arms to her back.  It was breathtaking and for a moment, you didn’t see the scars…only the art.  That’s when I realized the impact tattoos could have.

The most important tattoo I have is the one I got about a year into my sobriety.  I got my sober date (1/7/10) tattooed on the inside of my right wrist…my “drinking” hand.  That tattoo served many purposes.  First it served as a constant reminder of what I was fighting for.  Second it was like a talisman…guiding me through the tough times.  And finally, it was a reminder that if I picked up, having it removed was going to be expensive and hurt like a sonofabitch!  Let’s just say that simple, quick and inexpensive tattoo served its purpose.

I have a swirly hard to read tat on my right ankle that says “Let Go”.  My friend and I got them together and they match.  Whenever I’m having trouble remembering that I’m not in charge…I think of that little piece of ink.  It works.

Finally, I recently decided that my sober date had served it’s purpose and it was time to move forward and stop looking back.  I now have four cherry blossoms covering that date and the words “Be Still” in my favorite font below it.

It also reminds me that I’m not in charge..

“Be still and know that I am God…” ~ Psalm 46:10

What’s next?  Only time, money and my impulsiveness will tell.

Namaste 

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School Days

My children will return to school next week.  Wait…that’s not right.

My grown ass men will either start or return to college next week. 

Shit.

I no longer have a child in the school system (public or private).  I am a grandmother, and while I have worn that title proudly for many years (15 to be exact), I have done so with a somewhat smug attitude.  After all, my stepdaughter is only 10 years younger than me so really, I wasn’t old enough to be a grandmother…technically.  Then my niece had children and since my sister had her when she was 17, well…I remained smug.

When my nephew’s baby came along it became official – I’m old enough to be a proper grandma.

No kids in school + grandbabies = old.  Sigh…

The vast majority of the time I bask in the glow of grandmotherhood and the fact that my “children” have grown into wonderful “adults” (for the most part anyway).  However, at times like this, when I look around and realize that the raising part of them has morphed into coaching and supporting, my heart aches for the feel of a little boy who smells like fresh air and dirt jumping into my arms after a day at preschool ready to tell me about his day. 

I even miss little boys who come home from school with skinned knees, bumped heads, or hurt feelings and just need their mom to kiss the boo-boo to make it better.  The boo-boos they get now need a helluva lot more than a kiss (from me anyway) to make them better.  They are grown up boo-boos and most of the time they suck ass…big time.

Damn I’m glad I quit drinking when I did. 

This feeling + wine = disaster of epic proportions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Science Experiment Update

To all you Whole30 or Paleo people out there or just the ones who have ditched sugar, I need some advice.  Right now I find myself thinking about food constantly and putting stuff in my face even when I’m not hungry (good stuff like yellow and red peppers and celery or a small amount of nuts).  It’s like I’m trying to fill a hole and it just won’t get full.

I have two questions:
1.  Is this because my body wants carbs and I’m not giving it to them?  Usually when I have a craving for something, if I don’t get it then I end up eating everything on the planet to make it go away.  I’m thinking this is the same thing.  Yes?
2.  Will it pass?

Have a wonderful Friday and a great weekend and remember, don’t let anyone steal your happy – including your beast.

Namaste

My Sweet Boy

I got nothin’.  I’ve been trying to come up with a blog post for the past couple of days and I’m drawing a big fat blank.

I could talk about how the hubs is interviewing for a position tomorrow and that prayers to higher powers are always welcome.

I could talk about how I have a week filled with evening activities that involve small talk and copious amounts of booze.

I could talk about how I’m trying to set up a face to face with a blogger buddy and you’d think we were trying to schedule peace talks in the Middle East based on how hard it’s been to coordinate our schedules.

I could talk about how, as the summer comes to a close, I get “senioritis” at work because the end is in site which translates to I ain’t gettin’ shit done.

I could talk about how I reached out to a gastroenterologist’s office today to schedule a colonoscopy because I turned 52 in May and still haven’t had my first one yet.  Better late than never.

I could talk about how I had lunch with a friend yesterday’s who’s husband’s college roommate is dying of colon cancer (see above note) at 50. 

I could also talk about how excited I am that my nephew’s wedding is approaching quickly and how good it will be to see not only him but the baby as well.

I could talk about the fact that my son gave me one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever had when he told me on Saturday that he thought I was still a little bad-ass.

Wait…yes…I will talk about that.  Why?  Because I can of course!

I’ve posted before about how I used to be just a little bit bad ass – but in an upscale kind of class act way (try to follow me here).  But motherhood, daughter hood and drinking have sucked all of that out and now I feel used up and, well, old.  All aboard the pity train!

But we were running errands on Saturday and I made a wrong turn into a Cadillac dealership.  We started talking about luxury cars and I said that although I like Cadillacs I could never see myself driving one (unless I had won a pink one in Mary Kay of course).  He said that he didn’t see me in one either, that I was more of a sporty BMW or Audi A4 kind of woman (I prefer the Volvo that Edward drove in Twilight but…whatever).  He also said (pay attention – this is where it gets good) that he pictured me pulling up in one of those cars (black of course) and getting out with my Louboutin’s and when the stiletto hit the pavement it would crack – because I’m just that bad ass.

I kid you not…I got teary.

I love that kid.

Even if he was blowing smoke up my ass.

Namaste

The Oil Must Go

I tried…I really, really tried, but this Oil Cleansing Method is just not working for me.  I have very sensitive, acne prone skin.  It settled down in my 40’s thanks to a round of Accutane and consistent use of Retin A.  Then I moved into menopause and, like puberty all over again, my skin went crazy.  Large, cystic acne along my jawline accompanied by the occasional “zit” just for the hell of it on my cheeks or forehead (you know…right in the middle for EVERYONE to see…yeah…that).  The dermatologist and I worked on making it better, and we did…until I spent a year with the crappiest health insurance ever and I refused to pay $400 for a tube of Retin A.

Good times.

I got my Retin A back but have been bouncing around with a skin regimen for awhile now (mainly out of boredom – I can be fickle if you haven’t already noticed).  Which is where the Oil Cleansing Method comes into play.  I won’t recount how it works because it’s all at the link but I will say that I researched the hell out of that sucker before I put one drop of oil on my skin.  I Googled (of course) and read the pros and cons as well as variations and cautions (Crunchy Betty is a wonderful site filled with all kinds of great and useful information – including a great post on this skin care method). 

Here are my results:

It gives you a wonderful glow and is very soothing.  If it’s done correctly, it does not leave you feeling oily (in fact, if you are not careful it can dry your skin) and, at first, my oil production did diminish.  I used far fewer oil blotters than I had been using previously.  But that was only at first.  Later I noticed small, under the skin type blemishes beginning to appear.  I dismissed these as my skin purifying itself (I’ve never ever been to a dermatologist who didn’t tell me “it will get worse before it gets better”) and recommitted to the six weeks that it takes to see results from anything (diet, exercise, skin care routines, anti-depressants…six weeks seems to be the magic number).

I’m at five weeks (going into six) and (I’m sorry Annette and Mary), I have to bail.  My skin is not what I’d call a disaster, but the oil production is back and the texture of my skin is awful.  It’s rough to the touch and I think it’s because there is no exfoliation involved in this method beyond what a wash cloth will give you.  It could also be a million little clogged pores just under the skin…I don’t know, I’m just over it.

Now, if I were really crunchy, I could play around with the mixture and types of oils until I discovered the right concoction.  I could use some other natural methods to unclog my pores and…oh bloody hell, I don’t have time for all of this!  I’m sorry but sometimes, chemicals and medical science are a good thing!

For me, this is one of those times.

The best my skin has ever looked was when I was using (religiously and consistently) Mary Kay’s TimeWise Miracle Set for Normal/Oil skin along with their Microdermabrasion Set and my trusty Retin-A.  That’s where I’m going.  Since I used to sell it, I have lots of friends in the business who can sell it to me at a discount and without have to start up a relationship with a Mary Kay lady who’s been to seminar and wants me to find six friends so that she can do a party.  I love you ladies and I love the company but I don’t have time for that either.  Just sell me my product.  (And by the way, there a legions of Mary Kay ladies who would be happy to just sell you product and not bug you about parties.  Just be very upfront with them in the beginning and 89% of them will honor your wishes AND deliver the product to your door!)

Note:  I believe that the Mary Kay system works because, like the oil cleansing method claims, it returns your skin to balance.  There are many other skin care products out there tgat will do the same thing.  But a word of caution oily ladies – do not strip your skin of all it’s oils with harsh chemicals – trust me, it will just make more oil to compensate.

I may use the oil I have as a once in a while beauty treatment since I’ve overcome my fear of putting oil directly on my skin but as an everyday cleanser…um…not so much.

Happy Friday everyone!

Namaste

You Really Need to Get a Hobby

I have never been one for “hobbies”.  It’s not that I don’t think they are valuable or that they are silly or anything, quite the contrary, it’s just that at an age when I should have been developing hobbies…my biggest hobby was…drinking.  In fact, Dictionary.com defines hobby this way…

hob·by

1. an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation.
 

…and when you put it that way, I guess drinking was my hobby.  I pursued it for pleasure and relaxation and until right up until the end, it wasn’t my main occupation.  I remember when I used to fill out questionnaires or applications and they asked for hobbies and I didn’t have any.  I always wrote something like “I enjoy going out to dinner with my husband and relaxing in Annapolis.”  Translation – I like to go out to dinner and drink myself stupid.

Then when the kids were little…well…they were my hobby.  My world revolved around their needs, wants and hobbies so I built huge contraptions out of Legos, played Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh, was team mom and kept the book in Little League, and anything else that interested them.  It was fun and I miss it.

Now that I see myself left with some actual free time on my hands, I’m wondering if I should take up a hobby and what it should be.  Belle over at Tired of Thinking About Drinking has some photography assignments she’s handing out which has resulted in some really cool photos.  My friend Riversurfer over at Rockdweller’s Blog takes some really gorgeous photos with just her iPhone (she posts them on her site if you want to take a look) and regularly blows me away.  Maybe photography?

I never would have admitted it in my former life but I’m fairly crafty and I like it.  I’m always out on Pinterest or Martha Stewart or whatever, looking for cool crafts I can make or learn to make or…whatever.  I might take up scrap booking but holy hell, those women get addicted to it and God knows I don’t need anything else to become addicted to…especially not anything that costs as much as scrap booking does.

I do crochet.  My grandmother taught me when I was about 12 and I’m pretty good.  But you can only do that so much before you are sick to death of it and you need to move on to something else.  It’s the something else I need to find.  Plus, all of my friends already have scarfs, mittens, afghans and anything else you can make out of yarn.  They’re as sick of it as I am.

I enjoy doing those painting classes at those drink & draw studios.  I don’t do the drinking part anymore but they are still a hoot and I’ve gotten some pretty good artwork and gifts out of my efforts.  Jewelry making is also something cool and something I might be good at but it can also be pricey and I need to be careful about money right now.  Three boys in college at one time = no disposable income for the foreseeable future.

I also tend to take up these things, get bored and move on pretty quickly.  I’d hate to sink a shitload of money into something only to put it all away in 60 days when I’m bored and looking for my next avenue o’fun.  Not that I’ve ever done anything like that mind you…not at all…never…

Mainly I like watching TV, painting my nails, baking, yoga…wait…yawn…okay, I’m back now.  I also enjoy redecorating my house and I want to learn to paint cabinets and tile floors and walls.  Maybe I’ll head over to Home Depot and participate in one of their workshops…or maybe I’ll start with the local community college and see what they are offering and start there…

It’s kind of cool that I have all of these options.  Options I would have never had if I were still drinking.  Yay me!

Namaste

What a Weekend!!!

Our high school’s production of Beauty and the Beast was this weekend.

One twin was the Beast.

The other was the tech manager and set designer/builder.

The oldest came to every single performance AND stayed to help strike the set with the cast, crew and my hubs.

To say I’m going to miss all of this is an understatement of epic proportion.

I’m going to miss my “Beast” singing all over the house AND I’m going to miss listening to people applaud thunderously when he finishes his big song.  I’m going to miss all the little girls in the audience (as well as their parents) gasp when he transforms and becomes the prince.  I’m going to miss the standing ovations for the Be Our Guest number and again, at the end, when everyone takes their bow.

I’m going to miss his brother coming home every night and needing to talk to me about every nuance of his day with his tech crew and his girlfriend (who is also the stage manager and lighting director) who plucked his last nerve during this production.

I’m going to miss dinners with the drama teacher and her family as they all sit around my kitchen table and plot their next move.

I’m going to miss crying every time the show is over and I’m bursting with pride.

I’m going to miss the look in my husband’s eyes when he hugs his boys after the show.

I’m going to miss the look on all my friends faces because this is the first time they’ve heard my boy sing.  And the next look when I tell them that the other one built the amazing set they’ve been oooo’ing and ahhh’ing over all evening.

I’m going to miss high school.

And I NEVER thought those six words would EVER leave my lips.

Namaste

Valentine’s Day

So we all know what today is…it’s the day Hallmark and florists and Whitman’s get rich.  Blah, blah, blah.

It also happens to be one of my favorite holidays of the year!!!

I LOVE Valentines Day!  When I was a kid it was because it meant chocolate but after I met the hubs, it was the one day of the year that belonged completely to us US as in a couple.  A hopelessly and romantically and passionately in love couple.

Oh…and it also meant I’d get to drink.  Yeah…there’s that too.

For once however, the alcohol wasn’t the end all and be all of the day because, at my core, I am a hopeless romantic.  If the movie doesn’t end “happily ever after” then I don’t want to go and see it (even Les Mis ends on a positive note).  Even though Disney has screwed more women and their perception of love than John Mayer, I adore Disney movies because they all end “happily ever after” with an epic score that sticks in my head forever.  I’m just built that way.

So Valentine’s Day used to be about a special dinner complete with a lot of wine, a lovely gift, flowers, Godiva and of course…um…well you get the idea.  We also took advantage of many weekend packages at fancy hotels over the years to celebrate.  Champagne, strawberries, king sized beds and bubble baths plus a wonderful gourmet meal…with lots and lots of wine.

Then the kids came along and we settled for a night out with lots of good food and wine and, if the kids were in bed when we got home…um…yeah.

Then my drinking started picking up and it truly became just another excuse to drink…which took all of the romance out of the equation.  I remember wondering why it wasn’t like it used to be?  Where was the spark?  Why didn’t the hubs seem engaged?  Duh…because he was sitting across the table from a drunk that’s why.  (He would never admit that because he is my angel but that’s how I see it now.  How dissappointed he must have been.  Oy!)

Now I’m sober.  Hmmmm.  About five years ago, we started a tradition where we’d have a big, fancy Valentine’s Day dinner at home with the kids (and whatever girlfriends happened along at the time).  Steak, sparking grape juice, chocolate for dessert.  It’s fun and we’ll do it again this year. 

But as for the hopelessly romantic, passionately in love part of Valentine’s Day…I’m not so sure.  Of course I’m still passionately in love with my mate but, of late, we’ve not been very romantic.  Let’s face it, he’s a man so he’s happy if I’m happy and over the years I’ve been able to coax quite a bit of romance out of the guy but unless I’m VERY specific about what I want, it ain’t gonna happen.  And that’s okay! 

The problem is I don’t know what I want.  I’m not sure how I feel about sober Valentine’s Days or romance now.  It’s just…different.  Without the booze (and the pink cloud of early sobriety) I’m a little lost.  I want the spark and the anticipation and the excitement of a romantic Valentines Day…but I’m not sure what to tell the hubs to do to make it happen.

Sigh.

Oh well.  I just booked our anniversary trip in April.  This year is 30.  We’ve figured it out this long, we’ll figure this out too.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.  Kiss someone today just for the hell of it!

Namaste

And Elmo…if you’re reading this.  I’ll love you forever…or at least until tomorrow.

Stress and the Art of Clenching

My blood pressure is PERFECT.  120/80.  What’s more…it’s consistent.  It hasn’t changed in over a year (I check it periodically as well as at the doctor).  That’s not what my headaches are about…that is such a relief.  It’s not that I mind taking the medication because the alternative is inconceivable (I watched the Princess Bride this weekend with the boys…love that movie!)  It’s not even that I mind getting old because, let’s face it, we all do and the alternative sucks.

It’s that hypertension and high blood pressure are silent killers and they scare the shit out of me.  The damage they do to your body without you even knowing it are immense so here’s my PSA for the day…if you’re on meds for HBP, take your medication, religiously…your family needs you.

Anyway, turns out my headaches are called muscle contraction headaches.  They can be caused by a lot of different things, one of which is…wait for it…jaw clenching.  Sigh.  I’m screwed.

I am a chronic clencher.  I do it in my sleep and have been fitted with a mouth thingy.  Problem is, said mouth thingy was meant to stop people from grinding and, although the dentist swore it would work, mine only serves to make me clench against the thing.  That may be good for my teeth, but my jaw is still in trouble.

I also do it during the day.  I’m not even aware of it most of the time and only open my mouth when I start to feel my teeth hurt.  I’ll start talking or eating and realize that my molars are sore (seriously…I am not even making this shit up) and that’s when I know I’ve been clenching. 

Over the years I developed TMJ and even locked up my jaw once.  It has created chronic neck pain, shoulder pain and, of course, headaches.  I’ve seen specialists and even had an MRI once to try and diagnose the pain.  Ever single time it comes down to stress and clenching.

The funny thing is, my body has always had a strange way of processing my stress.  When I was younger, I developed alopecia areata that was linked to stress.  A stressful event would occur (like the time my sister freaked out on PCP and almost killed my father) and I would swoop in to the rescue, deal with the problem, stuff down the feelings and then about 3 months later, my hair would fall out.  I would go to the dermatologist, get some cortisone shots and 3 weeks later, my hair was back.  Problem solved…lather, rinse, repeat.

As I got older, the processing of said stress manifested itself in my jaw and a wine bottle.  Guess I know now why my clenching has returned with such a vengeance.  Time to hit the yoga mat and beef up the meditation.

Anyway, for now I have a prescription for Ultram.  I took one last night, my headache went away and I went to sleep.  Stuff put me right out.  Today I can feel the remnants of yesterday’s headache and the threat of a new one but I’m trying to be conscious of whether or not I’m clenching.  It’s HARD.

Stress is a motherfucker.

Namaste

Oh The Pressure

Man did I have a case of the “blahs” this weekend.  I was just a big lump of nothing.  Didn’t feel like doing anything, going anywhere or even talking (which is a BIG deal for me).  Not only did I not have any energy, but I lacked motivation as well.  I did manage to feed 30 drama students on Friday evening, walk the dogs on Saturday and sew the curtains for my meditation room on Sunday.  Other than that?  I sat my ample behind in my chair and tried to engage.

No such luck.

Of course it didn’t hurt that I had a headache all freaking weekend.  In fact, it started last Thursday and is in full force today.  Not a migraine, get in a dark room with an ice pack, kind of headache; just a middle of the brain kind of headache.  I’ve taken Excedrin, my son’s migraine medicine (very mild), and ibuprofen (at different times of course).  I went one day with no caffeine – no effect (I don’t drink that much caffeine).  I even added some sugar back into the diet to see if that was it.  Nope, still hurting. 

Now I’m no stranger to a headache.  I’m a clencher so I often get headaches from clenching my teeth.  I’m also a huncher, so sometimes my headache will be from tensing my neck muscles so tight.  Of course there’s always the hangover headache which has it’s own pain category all together but I don’t get those anymore…thank God.  I also have seasonal allergies so the sinus headache and I are also intimately acquainted.  This is different.

I have a sneaking suspicion I know what the lack of energy and the headache is all about…I just don’t want to admit it.  I think it’s my blood pressure.  Damn.

Back when I was still drinking, the doc put me on blood pressure meds because, surprise surprise, my once low blood pressure was beginning to slowly creep up.  So I took it religiously for two or three years and then, surprise surprise, once I quit drinking it began to come back down.  So I convinced the doc to take me off the meds to see what would happen.

Guess I know…I’m going in today to talk to him about it.  We’ll see what he says but my guess is – I’ll be at the pharmacy on my way home.

Getting old sucks ass…but as long as I’m on this side of the dirt, I’m grateful.

Namaste

Bits and Pieces

Lots of little things rolling around in my head today.  Big and little things that are cluttering my mind and making it hard to me to focus (or maybe it’s just old age…who knows).  Either way – that’s why I blog!  See…I’m a purger, the queen of delete, and this is my way of purging, rearranging and organizing my thoughts.

Any minute I will get word that I’m a grandma again.  My nephew’s baby mama is giving birth as I type this to their daughter.  They are very young (22) and will face the challenges of all new parents but I can’t help but think that this baby is a blessing to the nephew.

While he was here I noticed one thing more clearly than anything else.  Not only did he not feel worthy of the love we have for him, but he has no idea how to love unconditionally.  No matter how hard the hubs and I have tried to instill our love in his heart all these years, my sister used her poison to kill it.  I believe this baby will put God’s light and love and thereby our light and love back into his heart.  When he called to tell me they were pregnant (I was the first one he called BTW – yay!), the first thing I said to him was, “You are about to understand just how much we love you.”

He doesn’t get it.

He will very soon.

He’s also been a hot mess since he got back to his “hometown”.  He’s gotten a DWI and been hospitalized with alcohol poisoning.  I’m going to see them in a few weeks to visit the new baby and I’m carrying a can of whup-ass to open up on him while I’m there.  I’m hopeful that as he falls in love with his daughter, he’ll see how important it is that he doesn’t repeat the pain of his youth.  But if he’s having trouble with this concept..I’ll be happy to speed the process along.  That’s my job.

On a different note, the hubs and I are having some touchy conversations of late about money. When I was out of work and my severance ran out, we lived on my 401K and credit cards.  Not optimal but, it is what it is.  Debt has a way of sucking the life force from me and causing stress that robs me of any serenity I might manage to claim.  I refuse to go into the next phase of my life with a mountain of debt following me like a 4,000 lb stone around my neck.  Time to do something about it.

That’s where the difficult decisions come in – do we just do debt consolidation?  Debt management (which requires a settlement with the credit card companies and impacts your credit score)?  Or bankruptcy?  Which is the best move for us?

Well bankruptcy is not an option.  I’m a banker…they frown on that kind of thing.  Debt management may work because I can add an explanation to my credit report which will help if we ever need a car loan or a mortgage.  I don’t give a rat’s ass if I ever see another credit card as long as I live.  Of course I’m grateful we had them when we needed them but now that the kids are growing up and moving on…I want them GONE.

I’m leaning toward the debt consolidation thing which will not really lower our monthly outlay much (which is okay really) but it will get rid of the debt in five years vs. 25 and may finally get the credit card companies to lower 25% interest rates down to more manageable level.

Taking control of this is helping to ease the stress so much.  Just like pushing down and ignoring emotions, ignoring the fact that this debt exists and we’re not making a dent in it by making minimum payments is chipping away at my sanity and making me emotionally weak.  My recovery has taught me that this just ain’t gonna fly.  Time to push back the drapes and shine some light on this motherfucker so it can begin to shrivel up and go away.  I’m praying that God stands with me and helps me make the right decisions on this as well.

Have a beautiful Sunday everyone.  Stay warm (or cool if you’re down under) and enjoy your day (even if you have to work like my friend Dawn).  And happy birthday to my new granddaughter, may your daddy love you as much as I love him.

Namaste