It is Saturday night. Tonight, that means staying in with my family. Jared and I are having a Stargate marathon night. Stargate harkens back to the dating days; we’d frequently tune into Stargate or Stargate Atlantis together, him in Iowa, me here in Georgia. Many Friday nights on the phone were spent just this way. And here I am, in between watching TV, writing a post in which I drone
Six and a half years. That’s how long it has taken us to completely recover from a Chapter 7 bankruptcy. We now have credit scores comparable to our peers who never declared bankruptcy. This is a post in which I bare all, with Jared’s permission, about the taboo bankruptcy stuff. Left to my own devices, I do not manage money well. Even now, Jared takes all my cards—credit and debit—
I know I am in a database somewhere telling public officials I shouldn’t have a gun. I know this because I have been sent involuntarily to an inpatient mental health facility, under police escort. I know I shouldn’t have access to guns because I would be dangerous in my psychotic times— I get paranoid and have really scary, expansive thoughts and thought patterns— never violence-intended thoughts, just completely unpredictable. I would
These feet belong to a Kindergartner. They aren’t baby feet anymore. The first day of school is tomorrow. And with that, here is the end of Summer Break 2019. This is all a happy thing to this mom. It means no more PJ Masks or Puppy Dog Pals for hours on end. It also probably means evenings of a cuddly Oliver. I was looking back at how far we’ve come.
I had a solid week of “up” after vacation. I was up every day at 5:30, and going and cleaning and all that rearranging around the house and…. Now I am back to where I started. Sleeping till 10 am. Not exactly depressed but not a lot of extra energy. It’s the nature of my life and I know if I would just accept the waves and lulls instead of