A small parcel arrived today, addressed to me. Opening it up, I saw I'd received a glass bead necklace...colorful, pretty, and happy-looking. "Love beads". I immediately put it on. It's a "bright spot" in this day. I need it. When I chance to catch my reflection, I see the beads, and they remind me that there are still some good people left in the world. It makes me thankful... and appreciative. Such a small thing, in a world so unlike it used to be. These beads could not have arrived on a better day.
I'm having one of 'those' days. A day that I struggle just to look up. The sun didn't even shine today, and that was just fine with me. I stayed in bed too long. Woke up (finally) with a bad stress headache, took some Excedrin and poured some tea...and admired my new beads. They're pretty. Colorful. All shapes and sizes. Whomever made these, made them with joy. And it's evident as I hold them.. The gal who makes these and sends them around the world, does so to "spread love". I don't think she realizes she has a love ministry. :) She does though. A "random act of kindness" just to brighten someones day. She is herself, a jewel. And I've never even met her.
Waking up to have my old nemesis 'depression' slap me hard upside the head.. So what brings this all on? Sometimes something. Sometimes nothing. We all have our own problems, our own issues. Depression is a medical problem... not a personality flaw. It took me years to finally get that, and not be ashamed.
Life can seriously stink. My mom is having chemo today. Saying that 'depresses' me to no end, is a huge understatement. I don't even want to think about it... but there it is.
This morning I didn't even want to get up out of bed, but forced myself to. I have kids, so it's not like I have much of a choice. No matter how crappy I feel, I have to care for my family. There are days, if it were not for my kids, I wouldn't even bother to get up at all. But I do. And I get up. No matter how I hurt inside, I love my kids, and I am going to do what I need to do. They don't deserve a screwed up, dysfunctional depressed mom. They deserve a mom who is there for them. A hot meal, clean laundry, and someone to hug and kiss them and let them know how much they are truly loved. So I washed clothes. Steamed Japanese pumpkin, washed dishes, and cared for my family. A mom does what she must. What she should. Family before self... always. That's how God made us.
Checking out local news...The news station reported that the scumbag who murdered poor little Somer Thompson went to the state prison. GOOD. However, I can't help but wonder if he will befriend murderer Joshua Phillips, who killed little Maddie Clifton. Both these creeps were local. Neither of these two will ever see the light of day again, God willing. I have trouble with the thought that these two murderers, like many others, are given 'life', (at tax payer expense), while their innocent victims received death. I know revenge is the Lords, not ours. But sometimes that's not so easy to feel that way, especially when the mothers of these murdered little girls are crying on tv. As a mom myself, I can't imagine the hell these moms went through, and go through every day for the rest of their lives. It's just not right!!!
Next to murderers.. pedophiles. I have a problem with the fact that our 'egg man' who we were buying our eggs from is a registered predator/offender. One, whom I might add, was quite interested in my 11 yr old daughter. Obviously we stopped buying eggs from him the moment I found out. But what if I hadn't found out? What if I'd continued going there, and he hurt my daughter? The thought just turns my stomach...
Reading too much, seeing too much.. thinking too much. Between child murderers, and child predators, leads me to an unholy place in my mind that I don't like to visit. These heinous crimes and sickos unfortunately remind of an evil, SICK person who strategically planned and plotted, and successfully hurt someone that I love, and this piece of trash is walking around freely, unpunished. It angers me that I have no proof... or I'd have him arrested in a New York minute. No, I have no proof.. but I KNOW what he did. It makes me sick. SICK!! I want him punished. He'll screw up eventually, I hope, and this time be jailed.. and I hope when they do they will throw away the key... and hope too that another inmate does to him the same as he has done to his victim(s).
I know it's wrong to hate anyone. But this person I do hate. I hate him with every ounce of my being. I need to go to confession about this... I've had this brewing and stewing inside me for about a month now.. and no matter how much I suppress it, it manages to come back to mind... It is a torment, make no mistake.
Calling the cops is a joke when you have no proof. Heck, reporting something when you DO have proof is even a joke. Four months ago an incident occurred in which I lost any remaining faith I had in the local police. They are just thugs with guns, in my humble opinion. I am sure there are still some good cops out there.. but I believe they are far outnumbered by the bad ones. No one cares anymore.
When I was a little girl, "Officer Friendly" came to our elementary school and talked to us children about safety and how the nice policeman was always your friend and would always help you. I believed that baloney, well into my adulthood. Was even dumb enough to teach it to my own girls. My youngest daughter, at age 9, saw for herself that cops didn't care when we were in Tampa a couple of years ago. How is it that a nine-year-old gets something, and I don't? Am I that thick headed? Apparently so.
Mental struggle... angst.. whatever you want to call it... I hate it. I remember once I had a therapist... and I paid him for me just to sit there while he told me about his stupid hobby...telescopes. Then there are the "shrinks" who just want to give you pills and send you on your way. Why do I want to pay anyone for help when I know they are seeing a shrink themselves, taking my money, and helping mask serious problems instead of fixing things?
Maybe I say too much in my blog. Maybe I don't say enough. Maybe someone is reading this and thinking I am a pathetic whine-bag who needs to put on my big girl pants and get a grip.
Maybe they're right.