Stress Anxiety and .....Denial?

My first born son has left the nest. I thought I was handling this very well. Looking back, maybe not.

I guess I "handle" things by going into somewhat of an over-drive mode. "Oh, your leaving in three weeks. Let's plan a party; let's plan a trip; let's plan a dinner!" All while maintaining the normal already over-loaded existence of my life, in general. I love my children immensely, and WANT to do anything in the world for them. My son did not ask for party, trip, nor dinner. I threw all that upon myself. Maybe as a way to have no regrets when looking back. So that I could say to myself, and anyone else interested, that I had gone the extra mile; that I'm at least in the running for holding the title 'SUPER-MOM'. I suppose I take on these tasks because it's my way of coping. Busy keeps me from sitting in the corner of the couch, weeping all day about everything.

Well, the party was a success (of course) the trip was a success (of course) the dinner was a success (again, of course). I packed as many things into every free moment, as possible.

Then came the day he was really going to leave.....

My son told me that he REALLY wanted me to drive to Houston to see him swear in for the last time before he shipped out. DOWNTOWN Houston...on a Monday morning. I did not falter. Of course I wanted to see him and spend every moment possible with him. He's my first-born. I've been watching him grow since God entrusted him to me. I decided this would be a good opportunity for me to be alone on the road with my own thoughts and feelings and if I wanted to wale all the way home from Houston, this would be the right time. I am strong. I do not cry. At least not much....at least not in front of people.

The night before, I planned my trip. I mapped it out on 'Map-Quest' down to the exact block with all the cross streets labled. I had it loaded in the GPS. I planned on giving myself three and a half hours to make a two hour trip. I walk out of my house that morning, confident; emotions shoved to the basement.

Coffee... the early morning travel paradox. If you DON'T drink it, it's almost imposible to make the early morning trip and stay alert. If you DO drink it, you have to plan on leaving even earlier in order to allow time for all the restroom stops. I drank plenty of coffee...and I believe that I found the nastiest restroom in the free world. Oh, well.

I knew how to get TO downtown Houston. I just needed the GPS to get me to the correct building once I got into the downtown area. Simple in theory. I started paying attention to the GPS directions when I got on the outskirts of downtown. "Take this exit, turn left here, turn right there", and so on. Then she said, (the SHE I'm referring to is the woman's voice coming from the GPS), "Your destination is on the left". But, according to my "crude little map", my destination is suppose to be on the right. These were not the correct cross streets, according to my crude little map but, SHE is the GPS. SHE should know. So I parked. Paid to park. Squeezed my SUV into a parking space that was just the right size for a SMART car and started walking to the front of the building that I knew, in my gut, did not seem to be the right building.

The numbers on the building were correct. The street name was correct...except for one little detail. The letter "N". I was trying to get to 701 San Jacinto. I had arrived at 701 "N" San Jacinto. I had arrived at the count jail. The WOMAN in the GPS knew of no other 701 San Jacinto than the one she had already directed me to. Thank the Lord, He had given me the presence of mind to jot down my "crude little map" with it's cross streets. So I set out with my map, found one cross street, then another. Then I began to circle the block, sizing it up, trying to decide if it looked like it could be the right building.

It didn't.

No where to park.

I finally pulled up onto the curb into a space reserved for a motorcycle, got out of my car and started toward a small guard shack and a man who was, clearly, confused by my actions. Well, of course he was confused. This man informed me that I had just parked outside a federal prison. When I started to ask for his help in finding the building I was looking for, those emotions that I had shoved to the basement started surfacing. The more I tried to explain, the more I cried. The more I cried, the more the guard stuttered. I really felt bad for him. He was very sweet. He walked out to the corner and showed me that the building I was searching for was right across the street and he even tried to direct me to a place to park. Poor man. God bless him.

OK. Building located. Parking space found. Walk the length of two city blocks to the front of the building, up the steps, into the building. What to do now? Metal detectors to the right...a security guard. I'm not ashamed to ask if I'm in the right place. After all, I'd been asking that question for the last hour. It's just that, since all my emotions had begun surfacing, when I opened my mouth to speak, I cried. And the only way to stop crying, at that point, was to stop breathing. Praise God for a sweet and caring security guard. He took one look at me and said, "is your baby going into the military?....just breathe", as he's patting me on the back. "It's gonna be alright".

He was right. It was gonna be alright. I had made the journey. I had found the right building. I had made it to my destination on time. I was able to see my first born son swear in to become a United States Marine, and spend a few hours with him before he left to start the toughest training of his life. Those last few, precious hours between, "boy" and "young man".... between, "Hoo-ray! High School Graduation" and "OOH-RAH! Semper Fi ".

The Short Leash

Our little town has just finished a week-end full of festivities.

The annual Mushroom Festival.

It fills the town square with booths overflowing with arts and crafts, yard art and furniture, plants, purses and clothing. You can find candles, essential oils and soap of every scent. You can eat fajitas and funnel cakes, tacos and turkey legs, grilled shrimp or sausage...on a stick, of course.

For the kids, there is face painting, joy jumps, train rides and cake walks.

There's the shitake 5K run/walk, the classic car show and the photo contest.

If you venture just a little off the town square, toward the historic Woodbine Hotel, you find yourself in the actual heart of the Mushroom festival. There are chefs from all around the Brazos Valley, preparing mushrooms every way imaginable. There are canopies lining the grounds, filled with wines from wineries from all over Texas.

This would be where the adult fun really is.

A $10 ticket buys a wine glass and the opportunity to sample the various wines and learn about the wineries.

And then...

When night falls, there is a dance.....and all of this just on Saturday.

As a general rule, at this point in my life, I'm fairly calm in public settings.....at least that's what I think. Other people may have a different opinion. But throw some wine on the situation, add a few old friends and, VIOLA....some part of me that has been suppressed for the last 15-20 years rises to the occasion. Oh, I get relaxed...I say things I wouldn't ordinarily say; sometimes do things I wouldn't ordinarily do.

Lesson learned.........

Travel with friends that have a lot of self control. They will keep you on the leash and keep you out of trouble. They will see that you don't get lost in the crowd and that you make it home safe.

Thank the Lord for friends who have matured better than I and who don't have a problem attaching the short leash and protecting me from myself.

Whoppers..... and not the BK kind

I'm wondering if, my having awakened this morning from dreaming that I was dying has anything to do with the fact that I'm coming to more and more realization that I have made some "Whopper" bad decisions in my life...and some of them, very recently. I hope my Lord does not think I'm chanting a mantra as I walk around repeating, "Lord, I don't want to make anymore wrong decisions; please don't let me make anymore wrong decisions."
Was I always this gullible or is this just something that has happened to me over a period of years of living in more of a rural rather than metropolitan area. Although, it does seem to occur more when I'm dealing with people from the "metro" area.

Don't get me wrong....country people do lie. It's just usually about the size of the fish they caught....or that they went out with your sister. But they don't seem to lie in order to steal your money.
As much as I hate to be lied to, it seems to happening more and more. I don't want to become one of those people who doesn't trust anyone and thinks everyone is out to get them. I can really see how that can happen to a person.
If I had returned to me all the money that has been swindled away from me and all the money that should have been paid to me...............well, lets just say, I could slow down a bit.

as for the dream.....
I'm still pondering on that. I'm hoping my Lord will reveal to me just what it meant.

Mean as a Snake.....

Today, even though I want to be a nice person, I FEEL as mean as a snake. I don't know if I feel bad because of anxiety or that I'm having anxiety because I feel bad. I just know it wouldn't take an awful lot to make me "twist off" as I've heard it put so many times.



I had an episode with a salesman today. Oh how I hate to be lied to. Salesmen, MOST OF THEM (not all), in their cheap suits and bad haircuts, making 'Rico Suave' look like a stand-up guy. Trying to look like they have all the money and everyone else should have it too. Using the word, ONLY when they tell you how much it's gonna cost you. Luring me there under false pretenses and THEN calling me cynical.....I was not a good representative of Christ today....I did not curse...I did not show great patience...I didn't even show slight patience...but I did not curse. It's good that I didn't go to jail.


And Speaking of jail......


We recieved more jail mail today.


My ex-husband seems to be completely oblivious to why he's in jail...........HUH...lack of child support payment. For some unknown reason he seems to think that it's quite ok to never pay anything to help support our children. He's "down on his luck"...He "can't catch a break". He seems to think that he's there to pray for people and to wittness to people.....HELLO....you can do that by visiting the jail when you're not an inmate. GET A JOB!!!


And what ever happened to the "one phone call"??? He calls all day every day!!! Where is the justice??? Where is the punishment???? He's in jail because he won't work and pay his child support.....I work to feed me and my children.......he gets three hot meals each day...on taxpayer $$$$. I work to pay for electricity.....his jail cell is well lit and comfortable.....paid for by taxpayer $$$$$. I work to pay my taxes, so.....I guess I'm actually still taking care of him. And we've established the fact that he can make unlimited phone calls...at the high expense of the recipient, of course. There is no justice.....not on this side of heaven, anyway.



I'm feeling "mean as a snake" today.

Maybe tommorrow will be brighter.