Still here. And another boring post of drivel. I never was very good at writing while in school and never handed in reports until high school. I can see now that had I had the resources of the internet and word processing, I may have been more inclined. I suspect that could just be wishful thinking though. The reason I mentioned that is because by default, I have become the editor of my children's school projects. (I wrote a fantastic report on the Dietary Habits of the Ancient Greeks! I got 90% on it too, however, my son received the credit.) For the past three weeks, Adam has been aware of the need for a report on the moon. Now, at grade 6, this doesn't have to be too in depth, but there is quite a lot of information out there that can be found and used to create a pretty comprehensive report. I vowed that I was not doing this report for him. I swore that I wasn't even going to edit it. They could use the word processing program to check for spelling errors, and just leave me out of it. Yeah right! My husband was compelled to scream at Adam everyday regarding the status of his report. So I was included in this tirade because I wasn't enforcing the laws that were being laid down. As far as I was concerned, if Adam handed in a crappy report, then he could live with the consequences. It didn't work that way. I am not proud of the fact that Adam handed in a 17 page report today with his name on it, but very little of his own work in it. It wasn't as if I didn't help him do any of the initial work either. I found some books in the library for him, I did searches on the web and gave him a list of websites to visit. He would call them up and stare at them, then declare them useless. I wish I could have just left him alone and let him catch the flack. But between him and the screaming from my "motivational" husband, I just couldn't. The paper Adam wrote was a joke, but I fear that the one he handed in is more of one. What am I teaching this kid? It angers me that I don't have the backbone to stand up to Jim and tell him to shove off and leave it alone. A 12 year old is old enough to understand that if he chooses not to do the work, he will have to suffer the consequences. If he fails this topic, that doesn't reflect back onto me. OK, I'll go bang my head on the wall and berate myself for being such a wimp. Then I will go and try to catch up on my own overdue work.
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Oh God, You who has the ability to stop a heart beat in an instant, and yet can also resurrect the stopped heart beats. You who created life and brought us up from the primordial ooze we once wallowed in and allowed us to develop into thinking, caring human beings. You who can do anything in less than the time it takes me to blink an eye...why? Why was I created? Why can my life force not be transferred to another one of Your creations? Is there not another who is more deserving of time here on Earth? Time to get to know You and time to worship You? I once believed that there were no jokes in your creation, but now see that I am living one. I don't know how to escape the mockery of You that I am. I don't know why You are choosing to allow me to continue to exist in this blasphemy that my body is. I cannot hear Your whisperings. Am I missing something? Is there something that You have wished me to see or know that would give me an inkling of what direction I must follow? Lord, I look back upon my life and see the many, many times when I have tried to start afresh and yet have ended up in the same place I was before. Is there no place for me here on Earth? Is there no sanctuary?
On I trod, knowing simply that if I were not here, my dog would lie down and die because nobody would realize that he also existed in this house. I hope that this simple task is not beyond my abilities to perform.
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Jewels's Xanga Site If you haven't been to see this site yet, you are missing some wonderful poetry. This lady truly has a gift with words and a gift from God. The poem she wrote today is very inspiring. I think she would fully understand where I am standing right now. She also reccomends this great game that I have become addicted to. It is a lot of fun to play.
Especially when trying to get your mind off the anxiety triggers. -
I really am an ass! I never noticed it before, but kind of had my face shoved in it tonight. <sigh> Why don't I ever learn?
It is funny too. I ralized today that as far as some people are concerned, I am invisable. And it really stung to realize that, but then again, that is something I have been striving for, so I don't know why it hurt.
I need to go away. I need to disappear. My kids need to forget about me and learn that I am not a good parent. I am lacking to courage to do anything though. I really wish that someone would just come along and put me out of this misery. The part of the world that I touch and that acknowledges my existance would be so much better off without it.
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We finally got a monitor that doesn't create a yellowish tinge on all of the pictures. Needless to say, it means that I HAD to change my colours.
Agoraphobia - the fear of open spaces. What a stupid description of the fear. It isn't a fear of open spaces, it is a fear of leaving the house, a fear of social intereaction and reaction. It is a fear that becomes very consuming. going outside isn't the problem. But going further than that is. Yesterday was one of the days when I had to. I did it, and I survived, but the thought of leaving again today are just as anxiety provoking as they were yesterday. <sigh>
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I don't know if I am going to be able to stay much longer. It is getting harder and harder to sit and keep my mouth shut while I get ranted and raved at. I have been relegated to the same status as a child. He resents me totally because I don't get up each morning and go to work. I don't bring an income into this household, so therefore I am not entitled to spend it either. My time should be spent solely in the up keep of this house and in the ensurance that our children are behaving in the manner deemed proper by the lord and master of this house. He resents me more and more with each passing day. And yet I am useful to him. Only briefly though. If I got off my butt and returned to work, and keeping the house, then I would be entitled to have some say in things around here. I don't exist. I don't know why the Hell I am still alive. I wish I could honestly say it was for my children. But I am so selfish, I cannot even do that. I think I have become so successful at keeping to rest of the world out, that I no longer even allow my children in. I don't exist, except as a shell.
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Aon Celtic Art
Dragonfly - another one of my favourites. Perhaps because their beauty is so fleeting.
Celtic Cross - I wear a Celtic cross on a chain around my neck. It is the only cross that I have kept for longer than a month. Every other one I have ever had, disappeared within weeks of starting to wear it.
Celtic knotwork intrigues me. I want to try some designs in my beading.
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"Happy Valentine's Day, you stupid broad. I still don't know why I married you, but I suppose you are better than nothing when I am feeling lonely, or want some attention. Not that you do a good job of it. You can't even cook a decent supper for me, certainly not like my Mother did. And you can't control those stupid kids. I guess I will have to get the belt out and show them respect, just like my Father showed it to me. Of course, I don't have anything to do with the Old Man anymore because he is a jerk, but still. There is only one way to get your family to respect you and that is to be the boss, and I AM THE BOSS AROUND HERE!!! The rest of you can go to Hell!"
Yes, Happy Valentine's Day. I wonder why the emotional bruises don't show up on our skin. Or maybe they do, in the form of self mutilation. Never quite thought of it that way before.
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