Daily Prompt; Clean House


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/29/daily-prompt-junk/, DP, Daily Prompt

Is there “junk” in your life? What kind? How do you get rid of it?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us JUNK.

Of course there is junk in my life. All kinds of junk. I have my…

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Daily Prompt; Clean House


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/29/daily-prompt-junk/, DP, Daily Prompt

Is there “junk” in your life? What kind? How do you get rid of it?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us JUNK.

Of course there is junk in my life. All kinds of junk. I have my remaining issues of never being good enough. This probably is my worst trash in the can that follows me every where. As of this summer with the help and wonderful comments from all of you I am beginning to heal.

I also carry the trash called fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the dark. It started many moons ago when I slept in a bedroom that had a wall socket. Dad had taken it out and put up a ceiling light. He didn’t get around to plugging the hole for a while and I dreamed night after night big, bad snakes were coming out of that hole to get me.

I also had a less than perfect childhood, way back when I was still a toddler. The things that were allowed to take place with me still carry in my mind and when conditions are right, those thoughts will plummet to the surface once again until I beat them down.

I carry with me the fact that marriage doesn’t always last a life time. Scars from  hurtful words cause trust to be a high priority when I meet new men. I want a relationship, but this time I need to go nice and slow and develop it at a nice pace. So many guys don’t want this kind of turtle pace today. They want a rabbit pace and I just can’t do it.

I also carry too much blubber on my gut. Three kids, three layers of fat. It sounds nicer when I call it baby fat. The guilt follows me when I see a commercial with a girl in it with a perfect 10.

How do I get rid of it? I am not sure. I am better today at accepting what it was, was and what it is, is. Now that I am much older I think oh well, at least my legs don’t look like pork hocks. At least my facial skin bounces back. At least my boobs don’t fall to my navel.

If you want some laughter, make sure you click on the link below.

http://www.flashfunpages.com/saggy.html

What We Think


I was so busy today. Two doctor’s appointments, one for Al and one for me. Running errands for Al here and there. I am beat. Another reason I am beat is for the last two nights Al has slept for about five hours each night.

I want to apologize for not doing what I enjoy and commenting and liking your posts today. I just can’t do it. I am too exhausted and am praying for an early sleep.

Last night Al was having a rough night. Not with the illness itself, but with the mental part of understanding of his illness.

He evidently had been pondering on his funeral. He was asking me questions and I was answering the best I could. Then he started crying and was actually getting upset. He started getting mad at our Aunt in Florida and our half-sister.

The conversation went pretty much like this.

” This illness is going to take my life and no one cares. I fight and fight and I can’t get it to go a way. One of these days I am going to lay in a casket. Who is going to be at my funeral? I bet Aunt Mary won’t be there. She don’t like me. She wouldn’t come see me when we were in Florida. She never sends you letters through your computer. She never calls me. She don’t like me. I bet she don’t even remember who I am. Do you think Julie will come? Julie doesn’t care about me either. You told her I was sick and she doesn’t come see me. Do you think she will be at my funeral?”

This is a good part of the conversation I heard last night. He was really crying and I think he really wishes his aunt and sister would come to his funeral. He told me no one would be there but me.

I told him all of us would be there. I told him everyone from his old work place would be there and his church. I told him that it would be one of the biggest funerals I have ever been too.

I don’t know what or butterflieswill be there, but I do know when I told him it would be a big funeral and so many there would be just for him, he seemed to settle a little. The tears went from gushing to a slow stream.

Al must be doing a lot of thinking. It feels strange because he is having good days again but yet his mind is on his death.