I have been told that in order to have self esteem, you must do esteemable acts. How hard it is to take action when the self esteem is so low it registers a negative number? I can tell you. It is pretty damn hard.

I went to the gym today. That is hard when you have negative self esteem. Everyone else around me was better than me. They worked harder. The looked better. They sweated more. I was...

Without.


I am not sure when my self image got so low. In high school, I was a crazy person. I was on a sports team (cross country, swimming or soccer depending on the quarter). I was in a lot of clubs. I was a part of a production (either at school or church or a private concert for violin or piano). I was a decent student: out of 6 classes I made A's and B's with one inevitable C by one point. I went to church on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings and evenings and sometimes even Fridays and Saturdays. I had a lot going on and was constantly on the go. I was crazy because even with all of those activities, I always felt like I didn't fit in. I had so many groups I interacted with and none of them was I apart of wholly. I didn't go to school with the youth in the church. I didn't go to the same piano or violin teacher as the kids in the performing arts. I loved the performing arts, but I played instruments, I didn't sing and dance. I was in dance classes but I was an athlete. Nothing fit. I don't know that I had a best girlfriend the entire time I was in high school. I was only ever asked out once in highschool and I never went out on a date. Too boot, I was a mean, arrogant, judgemental girl. I don't know that this made me have low self esteem, but it is the first time I am cognizant of having low self esteem. I don't know that when I was in highschool I was aware my esteem was low because I was still figuring out who I was. I never was worried about my body though. I never found low self esteem in my body image. Of course how can you when you dance for an hour and then after school do a sport for an hour? Two hours of working out everyday makes anyone sleek and wonderful.

I don't know how I got to negative self esteem, but I know that I have it. I know mentally that when I do things like go to the gym, it creates self esteem. So in that sense, I have more esteem than I did yesterday. If I could do that everyday: just do one esteemable act, perhaps I could recreate a ground zero. Maybe even go into the positive numbers of low self esteem. I don't know.

God grant me the strength and courage.

I have so many letters to write today. I have three blogs to finish, two thank you letters, two belated birthday cards and two real omg letters to two people who are patiently waiting...

I have so many pieces to play today. I have a Bach Invention to polish, two sontinas I am working on and two real omg hymns to learn of two hymns who have been patiently waiting my whole life to be learned and played...

I have so many rooms to clean. I have a bathroom that has put up with three people this week instead of two. I have a kitchen that has a trash filled from not just me while John was at work and two real omg sinks full of dishes desperate to be washed, waiting patiently...

I have so many movies to watch. I have one that was ordered last week and is still not watched and may never make it into the dvd player before being returned to netflix which is like omg, rae didn't watch a movie? Meanwhile the others that know it is their turn out of the library of good movies scream to be played...

I have so many groceries to buy...

I have so many flowers to arrange...

I have so many friends to say hello to ...

I have so many phone calls to make to catch up on life...

I have so many dogs to love...

I have so many, so many, so many things to do.

Gonna rise up

Find my direction magnetically

Gonna rise up

Throw down my ace in the hole



I live on this farm in these mountains, but once in a while a get-a-way is necessary. Then the trek to the rents and back again, just a little away, not too far away, comes to be. After a bit of time in the more southern part of the state yet not considered south because it is not as far as Macon; after a little bit of love from Mom, fetching with the Patches and singing from Dad, I start on the back again part of the trek. As I ride to music (eddie vedder preferably), I find myself moved in different directions. It is traveling music that allows me to appreciate my drive and its surroundings.


As I came around that curve, you know, the curve where the ATL skyline bursts through for the first time and no matter how much traffic you are surrounded by, it just strikes you. It strikes you every time. Stunning. To me, if feels like I am seeing home again. It makes my heart gasp. Coincidentally, traffic slows right at that point as well, which is good so I can soak it all in. The architecture of the buildings, the crazy billboards, the signs marking familiar places I know so well. The cityscape weaves through overpasses and sudden shifts in the traffic that makes me pay attention to the road. Then as I move over left to go northeast instead of west and then back to the right again allowing me access to the road that stops short getting me home, I pay a toll of fifty cents only to find my company includes vehicles that live in this nostalgic place: mercedes, lexus, bmw...beautiful cars for a beautiful city.

As I wait in line to pay my $.50, I wonder, what would it be like to live here again? Would I be employed instead of in school? Would I be successful? Would I have dogs? Who would my friends be? Would I be married? Would I be sober? It's my turn to pay: "thank you."

The farther north I ride, the less expensive the cars are: they go from sports cars to mom busses to work trucks to farm trucks. The farther north I ride, the smaller the buildings get. The building of last resort is where the road says that it is ending and on the other side of the stop light it gets a new name which makes it local instead of stately; is a home depot that built its self into the side of a mountain and fought long and hard for a too tall sign and lost. Then the buildings are but farm houses and barns. The pastures stretch and the architect of this landscape is not human. There are trees taller and older than most anyone who lives in the farm houses. There are tucked away bbq smoke houses. There are fruit stands with fresh produces parked at the main road that carries me to my farm, there at the last stop light.

The next twenty miles are all God's country. There are stopsigns instead of stoplights. The "traffic" consists of a man on his tractor carrying a round bale to another part of his farm and had to surface on the two lane road to get there. Despite the double yellow line, there is time and ability to pass him, but not without a wave and a smile. The roads begin to curve. They go up and down and all around. Soon, there is no way to go over 20 miles an hour to get through the dead man's curve and I am almost home. Turning right at the winery, I can see the workers tending to the vines. Last turn...

My whole body begins to relax, knowing it is within walking distance to the farm. But as a reminder as to why I call my farm home, coming around a curve, the sky opens up to a magnificent mountain picturesque scene and I know. I know that I would never be the person I am today. I know that no matter how enticing the city can be, I would never have met the man of my dreams; I would never have these dogs; I would never be in school; I would never have my best friend I have; I would never have stayed sober but rather fought a losing fight.

I would never be me in that city. I know, that I am, I am right where I am supposed to be. I am finished with the trek back again. I am home.

Why is feminism percieved as something bad?



From Websters:
Main Entry: fem·i·nism
Pronunciation: \ˈfe-mə-ˌni-zəm\
Function: noun
Date: 1895
1 : the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes

2 : organized activity on behalf of women's rights and interests
— fem·i·nist \-nist\ noun or adjective
— fem·i·nis·tic \ˌfe-mə-ˈnis-tik\ adjective



Why wouldn't I want to be treated equally in all aspects of my life or have someone argue on my behalf to be treated equally? My rights and interests: wouldn't that include things like work, play, home, faith, relationships with others including my husband, children and future children, parents, siblings, friends: why wouldn't I want something like this in my life? Why is it considered bad? Why wouldn't I be considered a lady for desiring equality?

Can you tell I've been trolling on your site Vicki?

I found a link to LAF. It seems like this great site for conservative women, yet I find fallacy in its name. It is not that the site is about "Ladies Against Feminism." I read the starter as suggested and the who we are section and I have to disagree with the name of the site. In reality it is all about women who are feminists to the nth degree. I was so proud to see women being women on that site. What the site really is, is Conservative Feminism. Liberals don't write the book on feminism, although they do cause a lot of ruckus ever since that bra burning incident in the 60's which will never be forgotten. In order to be a feminist just means you are to be female and have rights and interests. There is no question that LAF has interests and rights. I don't agree with half of them, but I respect that someone stands up and states a position even if I don't agree with it. It is the fundamental of freedom of speech. A fundamental that as an American woman, I have the right to practice and so does LAF, supported by her site. I think she is the epitome of feminism and her campaign against liberal feminism almost proves the point of feminism, which is in some wild way ironic and ridiculous, which takes the power out of her persuasion from her soap box on which she stands.

I would much more be attracted to her site if she stood for honesty which is that she is not against feminism so much as is a conservative feminist and that is just okay to be.

Ever have reality hit you in the chest so hard it makes you gasp? Had that happen to me the other day when I realized that my step son wasn't just staying for the weekend, rather moved into my little farm house. That is not so easy to sneak into, but he was stealthy about it and commandeered his Dad in order to make it happen. One thing is for sure: I am totally a new wife. When I was asked if my step son could come and stay, I said sure. NEW WIFE. Old wife would have said "for how long?" or "can we talk about this?" or "I need to think about it." New wife says, "sure" and two days later says, "wait what did I say yes to? oh, no....".

Just when I think this whole wife stuph is old hat, they sneak a new one in on me.

When that "no smoking" sign goes off it makes a ding and you'll know everything is going to be alright.

Okay, where's the ding? Where's the ding?

It's comin....I promise its coming, just wait for it.

Okay....














Ding.

daisies are the friendliest flowers

Today at the healing service, which I highly suggest to anyone who just needs to feel loved, the homily was on God's presence with us. Our priest is so poetic in her oration: "To be in God's presence is to let ourselves be swept away with the Divine Tide." Isn't that the truth of the matter? If I just let go, God always, always, always, takes ahold and things go smoothly. Then the Bible study just after that with the DOK was on Romans. Romans is a hard book, especially when taken in chunks. The versus we read were from Chapter 8, 1-11.

I like verse 2: For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.

and I like verse 9, the first part: However, you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you.

I have worked very hard in this life of mine to become happy, joyous and free. Lately, I have noticed that there is a lot of prejudice in many of the people I learn from towards my faith. not My faith, but my Faith. They don't hold any prejudice towards me. It has been a burden to listen to those who ride the tide of spiritual kindergarten only to find that they can only teach me the ABC's. I have had a thirst for more. I started asking around in those circles of women if there was any interest in studying the Gospels with me and found only one yes. I told God to show me women who want to study the Gospels, or the Bible or something more than the ABC's. I need more! Today, happily, I landed square in the middle of women who are full of wisdom and knowledge of the Bible and my Faith.

These versus we stumbled into and around in Romans made me realize that through my Faith, I am free. It also reminded me that while I associate with those who are in spiritual kindergarten, I am not isolated. I am not alone. The Spirit dwells within me. I am truly a spiritual being having a human experience. I am not alone. That prejudice and antagonism seems to fall by the wayside when I shift my perception to embrace my Faith. All men of courage have Faith. I just have to have the courage to carry that Faith, to seek that Spirit that dwells within me when faced with those who carry the prejudice and adversity. Although, I do not rebuke my ABC's. Without them, there is no possibility to have the Faith that I have today. I just will put them at the beginning of this Spiritual Experience.

And so it begins...



The cows are going to slaughter. Actually, just the calfs go. This seems so aweful if you are a pet lover, but these cows are not pets, they are car payments. So Albert took 8 youngins off to market this morning. This means nothin to him, he lives on the other farm. Me, however, it means a lot to because I live here where the babies were taken from. My husband is to work so he is laughing that I am stuck on the farm. Why is it such a big deal? The mothers cry for their young for three days. They don't cry like boo hoo. They cry like moo moo. It is how they call their young when they are too far away from the heard or time to eat or lost. So they will look and cry for three days...and nights. They will break away from the heard and go looking for the youngins so that they are all discombobulated. They roam all over the place crying for their young...and all night. Sometimes they get stuck right outside my window...all night. Luckily, I can scare em off if it gets too much, but still, it is loud and it is painful. And it is three days of mooing...and three nights.

Lack of Power is my Dilemma...

this is the underlying factor for many things in psychology including alcoholism/addiction, borderline personality, codependency, and anxiety disorder. i hear over and over that alcohol is but a symptom, the underlying crux is control. people who have panic attacks have stress induced attacks brought on by a percieved lack of control aka fear. while there is medication to treat panic attacks, therapy is better...irrational fear is percieved, not real. then there is real fear: omg i might die, a black bear is chasing me. although... if the bear is not there, heavy psychotic meds will be administered at once, but that has nothing to do with power, that is more on the side of crazy...ha

so today, this afternoon, a gun shot rang out at our farm. my husband was outside watering the dogs when he hit the ground. i came running outside to see if he was okay only to find him perturbed that someone was discharging a weapon on the farm and we didn't know about it. he drove out into the pasture to look for someone near the stump dump because that was the direction the sound came from. i went back into the house...to find the entire house was without power. the percieved fear of a gunshot was really a transformer on the property and one unhappy bird. talk about powerlessness...

people say that medication can treat irrationality, but in reality, faith is the only truth that works for fear...my husband was not afraid to go out into the pasture looking for someone holding a weapon, despite the underlying fear that if someone was out there he could have been shot. that faith brought out the truth that a person was not the culprit of the racket, just an unsuspecting animal. my husband was not afraid. this is new because ten years ago he was.

lately i have had some strange dreams, violent, drunken dreams. i have had a hard time understanding what was going on. i finally realized that eight years ago, about this time, i was so heavily intoxicated, i can't remember days. not like hey, i can't remember what i did last night, but hey i can't remember what i have done since i got on a plane in orlando and flew back into atl on the fourth of july and now it is the tenth of july and i don't remember anything in between. strangley, i went to work, i went to the bar with friends, and i probably came home, maybe. those are just guesses. i think the reasons for my dreams are due to the powerlessness i was experiencing eight years ago both over alcohol and in the figurative language of "boom, boom out go the lights" when i drank. i was anesticizing myself in order to not have fear. i had no control and in order to become empowered, i had to come to believe in a power greater than me.

i still have a lot of fear today, but not the irrational fear i once had. i have a lot more faith today. one thing is for sure, i remain powerless.

I threw my first party last night. Not as in first party ever. My first party ever was a back to school party when I was sixteen. But it was my first party as a Mrs and at the farm. Now, just like then, not everyone came who I wanted to come, showed and then there were those who didn't stay long enough. Strangely, this seems to be the way it goes with parties. People who say they will show up don't and people who say they can't make, miraculously do! It was a fun evening setting expectations aside. Cleaning the house all day wasn't all that fun. I was almost so tired by the time the party started that I was willing to say so sorry, we cancelled it. But I didn't thankfully. We grilled out burgers and had pot luck sides. The house was lovely and the evening perfect. Everyone brought citrenella which SO really helped, and as a result, we are fully stocked for another hang-out-get-together. We bought tiki torches from the dollar store for more than a dollar but cheaper than the home depot tiki torch that was more than a dollar. So between the tiki's, the candles and the bug juice, we were bug free.

I got some nice shots while there was still light. They are my friends:

This is DonnaRae.

She wins the award for best t-shirt ever.

She also has a great name becasue it includes the name RAE. This is her husband, Lee, who is the first person I've met that used the word "schlep" correctly in a sentence. They are yanks via Florida who moved to North Georgia as a result of a work transfer. They are such city folks. It is cool that they showed up when they did because we had another set of friends who were yanks via Florida who left to return to Florida about the same time. It was an good, even trade.

This is Gena and Bella or Bella-bug as I call her. In our family there are Kellybug and Jennybug so Bella Bug just happens into my language. Gena is a long-time, dearly loved friend who had this perfect child about two years ago. In this pic Bella is playing in the dog's water bowl while ringing the chimes hanging over it. It was her very own game of splash and ring. She was a hoot the whole night. During the fireworks she kept saying "More Mama! More!" In case you are curious, yes she is always dressed this cute.

This is one of mine and John's oldest and dearest friends, Nicki. Nicki is the only one out of my friends who can not just make my brother smile, but make Carter burst into outright, full throated laughter. Nicki is always full of jokes and smiles. And last night, not to outdo himself, he made my day. He brought fireworks last night. When I think of someone bringing fireworks, I think of blackcats or sparklers or a roman candle or two. Oh NO. Not Nicki. We had fireworks like the kind at the end of a Braves game or at Stone Mountain or at the lake in Avondale. It was UNbelivable. They were cannons that scared the heck out of my pups and lit up the sky. It was UNreal. He must have brought $100 worth or fireworks. They were so cool that people offered to help him pay for them when it was all said and done. I couldn't believe that we had real fireworks at the farm. Who'd of guessed I'd throw a real Fourth of July party? One thing is for sure: thanks to Nicki, more people will show up next year.

Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear MEEEEEEEEE....Happy Birthday to me! HAHA!

Yes, I got a piano for my birthday. In case you are curious, it is a $35 piano I bought at a garage sale this weekend. It took two women and John to load it on the truck. It took John and an older man, who just happened up from floating down the creek that boarders our property, to get it in the sun room. It took me and John to get it over the hump from the sun room into the spot its in right now. Woohoo! The first song I played on it was "Rejoice, the Lord is King" from my Music Makers awarded hymnal for perfect attendence during the 82-83 school year at First Baptist Decatur. It is a 1975 version. Hurray!!!! I have a piano!! My music quest is coming to life.

Waiting with baited breath

Why is it that the lady on the "time to quit" commercial who encourages people to stop smoking and calls it an addiction to nicotine, like that is not the same thing as smoking (there is no such thing as a social smoker, if you call yourself a smoker--you are addicted), makes me want to pull my cigarettes up and light one up? The problem is that I don't have any cigarettes and haven't bought cigarettes for like five years or something. Not to mention, I don't think I have a lighter either. If I had to start a campfire, I would have to go to the store. Do you know how long it takes for me to get to a store from the farm? Fifteen minutes, minimum. So weird. You'd think that a stop smoking campaign would make you say, golly, glad I stopped that looks aweful not give me a drag, or yeah, let's see if I can smoke an entire pack in the time it takes to play the commercial. Something is wrong with the "your time to quit" marketing. There is a better commercial that is on the dvds as a preview that is a cowboy in newyork who sings through a mike that is pressed into his throat and sings to you that you don't always die from smoking, sometimes they just take a lung and tongue and give you a machine so that you can talk through your throat. Yeah, watching that guy, makes me really grateful that God has removed the obsession of smoking. I mean pressing a mike to your throat to talk? Weird and scary all wrapped into one.

My husband left me this morning. This is not uncommon in our marriage lately. For about the past year he has been leaving me every three or four days. Apparently, he recieves some type of monetary compensation for his disappearance, I believe some people call it a salary. For that first hour or so that he is gone (all though this is a great improvement as it used to be an all day affair), I go into a denial thing. My head registers him leaving as though he was going to Linda's to get some milk. But then that reality hits. I get this grumpiness that settles on me. I find everything in my power to stop it, but inevitably, I get bored. So I just have to watch a movie or some form of tv show. A lot of times this coincides with the VIEW which makes me laugh. It tells me that it hits me about the same time every time. Then, after watching independent women talk about nothing for about thirty minutes, I feel enthused and recognize my own independence.

In the past the leaving for work for three days at a time has been placed conveniently at the same time as a test, paper or project that is due for school. Now, however, I am on break. I haven't had a break since last August. Well, before that actually because I was working up to the day I went to school. So I guess it was last July when I went with Sherry and the kids to Anna Maria Island for a week. So almost a year. That makes it the right time for another vacation. I would say I had Christmas break, but that was more of a run around and see every family member imaginable and work and anything else we could think of to squeeze in there in order to go back to school suddenly. Then there was the break between Spring Semester and Summer Semester that lasted two weeks in which I went to visit Mom, because it is always such a relief to visit Mom, and then thought Mrs. K, John's Mama, was dying. Oof. No break there. Thinking someone is going to die is excrutiatingly hard on the system.

So here I am. First day on a summer break. My husband leaves me and...I have nothing to study, plan, work on, go to, or do. My cabinets are all painted, my sun room established. My house is clean. Maybe the VIEW is on. Maybe not. Who would know that summer break would be so confusing.

There is something brave in going to the supermarket in a small town on a Saturday. There are no parking space, except at the end of the lot. There are people with their dogs in the shopping cart. There are a random assortment of people instead of the normal ones you are used to seeing all the time. I actually did not see one person I knew except my youngest step son. Lucky for me he's big and hard to miss because if he were say the size of a normal human, he would have blended with the tourists and folks in town to see mom, the mountains, helen, the car show, the picnic at the state parks, family fun at the water park (yes, we have a water park), the scenic routes with quaint fruit stands on the side of the road that have been owned by the same family for generations. There were people stopping and starting at odd intervals, trying to drag carts out of the way. The congestion in the aisles was that of gridlock in downtown Atlanta on a Friday at three o'clock. What ever happened to get your groceries before you get there? I mean really, that's just ridiculous. Courage, I tell you. Courage. I dare you to go into the Ingles on a Saturday afternoon when there's not a cloud in the sky and in a tourist-sort-of town. See if you get out alive...ain't easy. Ain't gonna doit again.

I heart Grey's Anatomy.

I have been on a diet for some time now. Successfully losing fifteen pounds so far and would really appreciate losing another twenty to be about the right size for me. This is something that is hard for me, as I have always been a thin person. I have always been a generally active person. So for me it almost wounds my pride to have to DIET. I mean, really isn't that for fat people? I AM FAT. According to the FDA, I am slightly overweight with a slightly higher BMI than normal (I need to lose two points--what ever that means!)

My family thought it would be a great idea to go to Dairy Queen for Father's Day. This is jim dandy if I could eat sugar, white flour and two thousand calories a day, but as it turns out, I can't AND lose weight. But I was curious, how many calories does that Blizzard really have...I mean, really. Dad says 4000 calories. This would explain why the American public is severely obese. Turns out, oh Pop of mine, the oreo blizzard is 570 calories for a small. The one that little brother had, strawberry cheesequake, is 530 calories. I can't remember which one Momo picked, but I would have had a chocolate blizzard: that is to say the one with the most chocolate possible blizzard: Brownie Batter Blizzard, which is 630 calories...for a small.

Don't worry it is only over half my caloric intake for a whole DAY! Can you say superfat?

All I have to say to you mealy mouthed blizzard eaters is HA! I will not be conned into your wiley ways to eat your way to filling, sweet tasting treats. I will persevere! I will be thin again!

HA! Take that!

If you are wondering what happened to all the bees in North America, what's left of them are in my bush in front of my house. They buzz so loudly when the sun comes up that they wake me up in the morning and my brother can hear them over the phone. Bzzzzzzz....See you can hear them too. Bzzzzzbzzzzzzzzz

How Now Brown Cow.

Don't you wish you could pick your nose with your tongue?

I have a friend who is dieing.

She has cancer, but that is not what's killing her. What is killing her is the cirrhosis. He body is no longer protected from the toxins in her liver. Her eyes were yellow. She had beautiful blue eyes and today while the blue is still there, the yellow is overwhelming. If she makes it alive until 17th she will have two years without a drink of liquor. Two years without a drink and it still is killing her.

I have another friend who cannot go 24 hours without a drink. She has a kid, a husband and knows about God, but cannot not drink. She cannot figure out how to have a relationship with God and doesn't understand how I do what I do. She hasn't had a drink since last night and it is killing her.

When I look at my life today, I see a sleeping husband, a lazy dog, a violin begging to be practiced, books waiting to be studied and bank account thirsting for money. I am one of those people who is broke and happy. I can remember seeing people who were broke and happy and wondering how they did it. Now I know.

You know, when I get up in the morning, the first thing I do is get on my knees and say a version of the Jabez prayer, and then I ask God to remove the obsession and compulsion to drink, I ask God to give me a desire to stay sober today. I don't know that I truly did that until I was in my Sautee apartment and had almost two years without a drink. Before then, I asked God to give me a desire to stay sober, but it was while I was still in that not willing to get out of bed stage of sleep and not sleep. It was still a prayer, but it is not the prayer which I take to Him today. I have an honest desire to stay sober today. And my disease is not killing me today.