Trust or Faith

Be careful of what you want, it may want you. I have never understood that statement more than I do now. I use to think it meant that you had to be careful because manifesting things you want can be a lot more work and effort than you expected before you began. But no, what it really means is: you can become so caught up in a situation that what you want consumes you, so completely that you lose yourself, forget who you are at your core. It eats you alive, spirit and soul, leaving you an empty shell, a shadow of yourself. It goes beyond simple growth and learning or a downward spiral. Darkness grabs you and it can feel evil, enough that you begin to believe yourself cursed, giving power to illusion.

***

Where I'm at: We'll I'm not on the couch at the moment. I'm packing boxes getting ready for our move, and taking breaks to write on the computer. It's so easy for me to get sidetracked by just about anything. I started this blog to sort things out in my own mind, and writing has always made me feel better, I'm not quite sure why. I haven't written anything in at least two years, probably more like three. Writing is like an old friend who comforts me and is a companion in my life. So, I've come to understand that when I stop writing, it's a sign of depression setting in. I start to isolate myself when I'm depressed, from family, friends and the things I love that make me happy. Whether it's because I'm telling myself that I don't deserve the things that make me happy, or it's just life distracting me from happiness, I haven't quite determined. But, I have determined that enough is enough, couch life sucks and I'm done with it.

Today I opened one of the books I was packing, trying to decide if it was a keeper or to sell it in the upcoming garage sale. The page I opened to said to "Find the Silver Lining; with every bad situation there is something good that is gained." That's a universal truth, good thing because otherwise it would really be hard to ever get off the couch again. Why is it always so easy to see the bad things that happen, yet so hard to see the good???

For more than ten years I worked to manifest the house of my dreams. I wanted so much to build a beautiful house in the country, a sanctuary for my family to live and grow. In 2005 my dream came true, and we signed the construction loan in August, and broke ground in October. I was the general contractor and project manager on the job, working under my husband's builders license. I had always taken care of the accounting and office aspects of our business, but in the year before we started our own project I had been a much more active partner in the physical construction part of our business. Pouring concrete, tiling, framing and other such business. I actually enjoyed the work and the time working with my husband, so when we started our own home the dream couldn't have been better. My husband and I have always been close. We were friends in high school before we even started dating, that friendship naturally progressed into best friends, and then partners in life and work. In July of 2006 we finally got our C of O (certificate of occupancy) and were able to move in.

 

 

Dream Come True

 

Through some weird quirk of our luck, and believe me I know how arrogant the following sounds… but, the very month we signed our construction loan and began the building process of our house, the housing market crashed. Like my parent's divorce, and that miscarriage, and other various things, I can't quite get it out of my head that the housing market crashed because we finally achieved our biggest goal, and my dream was finally manifesting. (Yes, the universe revolves around me and my issues, didn't you know? And 911 happened just because I went to 2^nd degree...but that's another story. Yes, absolutely arrogant. I already said that!!! Or, maybe just psychotic.)

Not only was our business dependant on the housing market, but my husband's second job as a concrete truck driver, was also dependant on that market. I know so many people, in different industries, who had the best financial "year" of their lives in 2004/2005, followed by a complete crash in 2006, and we did not escape that issue. Mid building of our home, January 2006, and a week after Christmas, my husband was laid off from his semi-steady driving job and our construction business, which always slowed down in the winter months, never picked up as normal that Spring and Summer. Unfortunately, I did not predict the coming financial crisis Michigan and the rest of the country was facing back in 2005 before we started our project, and by the time we did see it what was happening, it was too late to put on the breaks. (Oh yeah, btw, I'd like to publically thank the owner (I won't say his name) of American Concrete, you jackass! How much business did we throw your way, that you just pissed all away!! Dumb!) Soooo, anyway… did I mention that I get distracted easily?

We got a fairly low interest rate on an ARM mortgage. Our payment would be 1850.00 a month for five years, at which time the ARM would adjust, up or down, likely up. The plan was to refinance before that happened, we had five years to work on that. Our house had appraised at 328,000.00 and our mortgage was 250,000.00, with appreciation, in five years there was no problem, we signed the mortgage terms in August 2006. The day after we signed the mortgage my husband left for New Orleans to help clear dangerous trees that were still a threat to residences, there was still a lot to clean up from Katrina even a year later. (Couldn't quite figure out how Katrina was my fault, but it might have been my frustration with getting the building process moving! You know, some sort of chaos theory BS: kill a butterfly in Africa equals a hurricane in Jamaica, or however that theory goes.) One big mistake, beside the ARM crap, was sinking every last penny into the house and not having any sort of cushion for emergencies or unforeseen financial issues. I was proud of the fact that we had come in at 4500.00 under budget, and I should have stuck that 45 into a savings account rather than taking it off the mortgage. Hindsight is 20/20.

Recovery work had been going on in New Orleans for a year by the time my husband decided to go there. We couldn't go down there while we were in the middle of our own project anyway. We were also hesitant to go, because we had heard stories from several sources that a lot of contractors were getting screwed down in New Orleans, by companies that were taking government recovery funds, but not paying the contractors that were actually doing to work. He finally decided to go after our house was done because one of our friends and contractors was down there and he said work was steady, and that there would be work through the winter, unlike Michigan construction. He'd been down there since September 2006 and had no problems with the contractor he'd been working for. We should have listened to our gut instincts, but fear about making our payments was already setting in because it had been such a bad year. My husband wasn't actually screwed in New Orleans, and he absolutely loves it there (me too, I visited), it was a storm that rolled through New York that they went to clean up where he got screwed.

In November or December we got notice from the bank that they had miscalculated our taxes, so we needed 1500.00 to pay the difference by January. We didn't have the cash, because as I already said, we hadn't put anything away for a rainy day. The bank raised our monthly payments in January 2007 from 1850.00 to 2380.00, to pay off that 1500.00 for Winter taxes and to cover the upcoming Summer taxes. So, only four months into our mortgage our payments increased by more than a quarter. It didn't end there. In June and July we couldn't make our payments, so trying to work things out with our mortgage company, we tacked the payments onto the next two years, increasing our payments to over 2600.00 a month. At this point raising the payments again didn't really make sense because we were really beginning to struggle with payments at that point; and my husband was no longer cutting trees after being screwed out of 2400.00 in New York, he was onto his next income fiasco, as a truck driver. We agreed to raising the payments again because we thought we could buy ourselves some time to get refinanced. We began working with a mortgage councilor, who we found through a government website that advertised "Save the Dream!" I don't really know what happened with that situation, I think the woman took our information, filled out her paperwork so she could collect her government paycheck, but other than that I have my doubts as to her really trying to do anything to help us. Every time we called for an update she would tell us that we were getting closer, that the laws were changing on FHA loans and more and more people were qualifying, she was sure it was only a matter of time before they could refinance us. This went on for six months and every month we told her we were getting to the point where we couldn't make our payments. She reassured us by telling us that it would be fine and that it would actually help our cause if the government saw we could no longer make our payments, that it would actually speed up the FHA process.

Vendetta is a lovely word my husband's good friend Chicago Bob reminded me of the other day while he visited. There aren't many people on that list, but there are a few. Good thing there aren't any Strega's in my family; well, good for them. Doesn't matter though, because what goes around…

After eight months making western union payments to the mortgage company on the first of every month, (26 hundred and some odd dollars, who cares about the cents), we got to the ninth month and were out of money and luck. The deal was if we couldn't make the payment on the first, we had no leeway left, the foreclosure process would (and did) start. By this time my Dream had long turned into a Nightmare.

The mortgage councilor from Franklin Street Mortgage was still assuring us that things would be okay, and now that the foreclosure process had started the refinancing would definitely progress at a quick pace, and that we should have much better results than we'd had so far. Whatever those previous results were, she never said. By this time I had little faith left in her assurances and I started talking to the loan department at my bank, where I had just started to work. What I learned, from my bank and not from my mortgage councilor, was that my mortgage company had been reporting the last eight months of payments that were made on time according to the revised agreement, as three months late each of those months. In fact, destroying our credit so completely, there was likely no way we could get refinanced by anyone. None of my phone messages to the mortgage councilor were ever returned after that, not only that, but no one was at the office when I stopped in. I have no idea what the fudge those people ever did, other than give us a line of shitake mushrooms.

Ask, and it shall be given. That's what it says in Matthew anyway. Job was rewarded double what he lost, because he never lost faith. Even as a child that never set well with me though, twice as many children still wouldn't make up for the ones lost, imo. And since I had a complete breakdown of faith, guess I'd be screwed, if I were Christian that is. ;-) No, at this point I'm wondering what SOB sent a curse my way, so that I can send a whopper right back! A child of the Goddess knows that sometimes what we ask for isn't given, but usually that's because there's something better out there for us. Then again sometimes we get exactly what we ask for, but it isn't what we expected. That's a kick in the pants. Makes a person, at least a person in my depressed condition, never want to ask for another fing thing. Like I said at the start of this, be careful what you want, it might want you.

So many people are focused on one universal law, the law of attraction. The Secret, and Oprah, have made that law very popular and familiar, so some may think I and others going through similar circumstances have brought it upon ourselves through negative thought and attracting negative circumstances. Depressive thoughts do in fact breed depressive attitudes and conditions, I don't dispute the law of attraction or the power of thought. But, the law of attraction is not the end all be all law of the universe. There are many Universal Laws. The law of Spirit, the law of Choice, the law of Return, the law of Abundance, the law of Cycles. Just to name a few. Still, it doesn't matter how positively you think the sky is green – the sky is blue. And I'd be careful trying to think the sky green anyway, because that's likely to bring a horrendous storm down on you. My point? Sometimes fear is stronger than faith, and sometimes it's hard to trust once you've been burned. Ultimately I think the Universe a benign and healthy place, but you can't just blindly follow and trust that nothing bad will happen to you. It's wise to prepare just in case. It's wise to not walk down a deserted alley on faith alone, inviting fate and the local scumbags to rob you. Sometime's fear is just ego fighting change, but at other times it is a warning of imminent danger. It's not wise to either disregard fear, or become completely inhibited by it. Maybe experiencing a loss of trust or faith is necessary for letting go. When experiencing a great loss like that of a dream, or a home, or a loved one, maybe a breakdown of our beliefs is necessary to healing and becoming whole once again. After all, loss is the crumbling of a structure that previously supported the world we knew and lived in, the breakdown of that structure would naturally initiate a change in what was previously true for us and what could be trusted before.

Interestingly, coming to acceptance – the last stage of grief, has brought me back in some ways to old beliefs and a renewal of trust and faith. Strange because just a few months ago I wouldn't have bothered to get off the couch long enough to get a book to look at whatever message it might have for me. So, maybe I'm healing, despite drawing closer to the day I leave this house…not mine anymore. And so, to honor that message; find the silver lining, from every bad situation something good is gained. I'm not sure what has been gained yet, but I'm feeling some relief that we are moving forward. We have a place to move. An apartment, much smaller than where I'm living, but it's giving me an opportunity to purge the junk I've collected the last several years, even before moving here. I'm not even sure where half this clutter has come from, but I'm looking forward to simplifying my life. I'm also looking forward to some maintenance free living for awhile. While I'll miss the idea of having my own garden, the reality is that half of what I planted went to waste or rotted because I didn't have the time to maintain or harvest it properly. I won't miss the yard work either. I can keep my herbs in pots on my deck and that's all I need for now. I'll miss my trees and dog, but I won't miss the dog hair in every conceivable place, and there are new trees where I'm moving.

A true blessing that I am grateful for; after all, the Secret is right about gratitude. I am healthy and cancer free. The lump that so frightened me shortly after my birthday and uncle's memorial service, actually inspired me to begin living again, and stop wasting away on the couch. My Aunt's suicide did save my life, it shocked me out of suicidal thoughts! But, it didn't inspire me to live. On the couch I would ask myself: "What's the point if all my efforts are going to go to shitake anyway??" Well, like they say, it isn't about the destination, it's about the journey! It's kind of funny that the possibility of (or even the actuality of) a life ending illness can spur a person to live their life. Depression is a foul curse, and the only way to break a curse is to decide to break it, apathy be damned! The silver lining to moving? I that I'm MOVING again. One thing that I won't be moving with me, can you guess? The couch!

 

I'm Healthy Celebration!

Bitter or Better

I'm not on the couch. I'm at the coffee shop trying to grab a few bites before I have to leave in 15 minutes to get back to work on time. Today is a 9:30am to 7:30pm shift. I get one 45 min break all day, for lunch. That's it. I'd start smoking again if I thought I could get outside for another 5 minutes, but that isn't likely to happen. I'm one of the lucky ones, as so many people have told me. Lucky I have a job.


Really? I ask myself, every time I hear that! Am I lucky to be making a quarter of what I use to make when I was self employed and only helped my father out a few hours a day with his business. He use to make me lunch when we were in the office! I felt pretty lucky then. Right now I'm not feeling lucky to be exhausted constantly, and still not making more than the bills take. :/ I know you're suppose to be positive, but obviously I haven't been there in quite awhile. Thinking positive, I use to preach that regularly. I was so busy thinking positive I forgot my shadow work!

I think the shadow of being lucky enough to have a job right now IS being tired. But sometimes, feeling too much or being too tired makes all the lessons learned and taught about positive thinking go right out the window. Sometimes we have to embrace the shadow and the dark, in order to find the light again.

****

Here I am back at the coffee shop, 9:45am and I have an hour before work. Yesterday my lunch was over at 12:30pm, I worked until 7:30pm, without a break, unless you count that trip to the bathroom. But, I am lucky, despite rediculous hours, and the sometimes rediculous people among the lovely people. The people I work with are some of the best people I've ever worked with, and I'm pretty sure this job has saved my life more than once, and not just by forcing me to get off the couch. It's gotten me out of isolation, out of myself. Close to other people and their issues (bless them). Like the lady whose husband divorced her as they lost the house that they lived in for 40 some years, and the animial lovers who try their best to save dogs despite having to file for bankrupsy, and the couple who just got married and had a lovely time at St. Somewhere. Despite sore feet and grumpy people I feel a part of something at this job, as hard as it sometimes is, and as far away from "myself" that I sometimes feel working there. Sometimes what seems bad is actually good for you. Today the shift is a bit better, 10:45 to 7:30 with a 45min lunch in there somewhere.

A few weeks ago the message at the Methodist Church on the corner said something that has stuck with me. I like the questions that make me think, usually the message there is something stupid like "Be thankful, your mother gave birth to you! Don't kill your baby..." Like birth control is bad and overpopulation is good, whatever. Do you think if Manson's mother had had an abortion Sharon Tate's baby would have been a bright light amoung the dark??? Yhea, well we'll never know and there's always something good that comes from everything bad....but I'm getting completely off track with that line of thinking, so to get back to the message I did like. It was short and sweet; "Will you allow life's challenges to make you bitter or better?" Good question I thought to myself, and I've been thinking about that ever since.

Usually I like to spend my days off work, on the couch. I can't really say I'm "Me" there either, it was just a comfortable spot until my bum had indented it so badly that I now feel a few springs or something, which hurt, but not enough for me to swich sitting spots. The "Me" I use to be is gone, hiding maybe. I'm out of touch with myself, but at the same time so absorbed by my own issues (bless me) that apathy has taken over. It's amusing because my "comfort zone" is so uncomfortable.

I think Spirit attracts scary things to help people. I think I've been on the couch for so long that I've forgotten how to live a happy life. Then again, when I think back to those times that were happy, I realise that during those times I didn't know I WAS happy. I was focused on what I had to do, or what I was trying to achieve, or what I wanted but didn't have yet - I didn't allow myself to enjoy the happiness I had then.

****

I did NOT want to get out of bed this morning!! I dreamed of my Grandmother and I haven't dreamed of her in so long I didn't want to wake up. She wasn't actually there in my dream, someone had made a lovely birthday gift for me. A stained glass mural of my Grandmother that lit from the back so she was bright. It was really beautiful. Additionally that same someone, I don't know who, had given me a huge leather bound copy of Mary Shelley's Frankenstine, inside the front cover where pictures and cards, it looked more like a scrap book than a regular book. Both gifts thrilled me, I do love the thriller/horror isle at the bookstore after all and Frankenstine is a classic. I have no idea what the dream means, if there is some message from my psyche in there, so for now I just take it for what it was, a gift for my birthday.

I didn't want to get out of bed, but I did want to write. I have the same schedule as yesterday, so I got out of bed ASAP and got right in the shower. I didn't even warm up a cup of coffee and turn on Charmed for fifteen minutes, because I was afraid if I sat on the couch I wouldn't get up until it was time to leave for work. It takes me 40 minutes to get to work, in good weather and when I'm driving the speed limit (which doesn't often happen, because I'm usually late!) A customer was talking to me the other day about his drive to work. He loves the 30 minutes it takes because it's his time to wake up, drink his coffee and get geared up for the day. He doesn't worry about traffic, because it's his habit to get out early enough that he'll have time to wake up, drink his coffee and get geared up for the day. He made me smile! I love those kinds of customers, but when I get a customer who is a grump, I do my best to make them smile!! So, the grumps aren't bad either. Anyway, I took notice this morning of my drive. I have an Flute/Nature CD that plays because I hate the noisy newsy raidio stations that seem to raise my anxiety level, I realised that was also my time to think and when there was time to run to the coffee shop that my thoughts are much more calm, than when I'm rushing to be on time when I'm already late. When I'm in a rush my thoughts are much more likely to be negative, whereas this morning was like a luxury of relaxation, thinking about what I would write. Thinking about the road I was on, about how I got off my path, which "they" say can never really be done - that no matter where you are, you're always on your path. It's true really, I know I'm on path, I just don't like this part of the road I've been on. This overgrown rocky path of difficulty and struggle. The road I live on happens to be dirt, and the county happened to be gratting my road that morning. A good thing, but it was only half done, so all the gravel was piled in the center and very loose and hard to keep the wheels straight. I had to go slow, or go in the ditch, I chose slow. :> This reminded me of a time, when I was working for my dad. Every day I would drive the same way to work. One particular stretch of the road was always full of potholes and seriously torn up, yet, because it was a few minutes quicker, in my mind, I always chose that path. Day after day I chose this difficult route, and in the meantime I was struggling with issues (bless me) which I can't quite remember now, but were making my life very difficult. Out of the blue and half way down the same rutted pot-holed pit of a road on my way to do some work for dad, I stopped the car. I asked myself why I always went this way, habit or whatever, when I KNEW it was the most DIFFICULT path to choose?????? To shave a few Minutes off the journey, despite having to slow down for the pitfalls anyway!!! At that time minutes didn't even matter, I had no certain time that I had to be there, I set my own hours. Right that second and in the middle of the road I turned my car around (good thing it was a rural area and there was no other traffic) and went the longer paved and easier path. Every day after that I took the paved roads, as symbolism of choosing a BETTER path through life, and hopefully the journey would be longer, with more scenery to enjoy! Sometimes I'd change the route, just to see what else was out there!

So this morning I chose to write instead of the couch! I feel better, ready for my day.

And that brings me to the point. Despite the bitter in my life, I know it will make me better. I choose for it to make me better. After all, I've always loved bittersweet more than just plain sweet! I'm just weird that way. Now I need to choose to enjoy my journey, despite the bumps in the road and if I need to, I'll take a different route and enjoy new scenery - better than the brown walls and TV and sore butt from the couch!

Beginning or End

I use to write. Words flew from my fingers and onto the page in a divine way. I loved it, my soul was fulfilled and my spirit alive.

I use to do a lot of things that I loved. Lately, whenever the vampires aren't slowly draining what little energy I do have at work, I can mostly be found on the couch. Like so many other American's who sought out "the dream" and were bitch slapped by reality, the economy, among other things have left me in the dust. My story isn't unusual; lost business, lost family, lost friends, very soon to be lost home. What is so funny to me is that the year before everything came crashing down, was the best year of my life. A year when it seemed all my dreams were finally coming true. What I didn't know was that those dreams would become nightmares.

Apathy and depression have become my constant companions. A complete inability to get my ass off the couch and "do" anything about my life. I mean, I've already done the doing, and look what it got me! I thought I was flying high, but some random bird took out my engine and the plane took a nose dive into a swamp. My finest accomplishments in the past three years involve killing zombies and becoming hero of the wastes. I'm on the couch as I type this, with my laptop for once, rather than a game controller. Although, I admit, the most my laptop has seen from me recently has been the accomplishments my SIMS make in their virtual lives. I created characters to parody my own life with my most recent SIM family, I made my avatar as close to myself as possible, and probably the best thing I've written in the past three years was her faux life bio. In it I ask the question, will this be the beginning of a new life or the end?

Yesterday I read some advice from Julia Cameron to "just start where you are." Where I am is on the couch, random thoughts without any particular order as fragmented as my sentences. Two weeks ago I spent my forty-first birthday at my uncle's memorial service and found out my younger cousin, who I haven't seen in over twenty-five years, has breast cancer. Thoughts of death and an end to it all are common with my type of depression. I've dealt with periods of depression I think for most of my life. Doesn't everyone? Unfortunately I'm one of those types who is also hyper sensitive to chemicals, so medication isn't an option that works well for me. Spirituality, yoga, friendship and writing were what always worked best for me. What I never dealt with before this seemingly everlasting dark night was apathy, which makes everything so much worse. Such a lack of will to even hope, beyond "normal" hopelessness that usually accompanies my depression, apathy has not only deadened my faith, trust and belief in a benign universe; but it's deadened my will to do anything about it.

Right now I wouldn't say I'm at my worst point. Right now I'd say it's minute by minute. It's not day by day yet, although some days are utterly bad all day and some are fairly promising, it's still really moment to moment. At my worst point I couldn't even remember what I believed. Driving 90 miles an hour down a freeway, to work, thoughts of hitting the guardrail didn't seem so bad, seemed better than what I was feeling. A sense of everything being wrong and no way for it to ever be right. That day, only one day of the long stretch that was closest to what felt like my worst point, my aunt saved my life, when she killed herself. The news so shocked me out of myself for a short time, that I actually stopped thinking about my own death for a few days. Those stupid pesky mind-numbing thoughts did eventually come back, but they seemed more random, less like something that I could ever take seriously and more like an annoying neighbor that you have to yell at to turn the f-ing noise down or you'll call the cops. Funny, because even with those thoughts buzzing around my head like pesky flies, that damn apathy that keeps me on this rather uncomfortable couch has kept me from doing anything about that too. I'll kill myself later, I'm just to fucking tired to do it now, someone hand me a bag of potato chips and my game controller!

My uncle's death was expected. He suffered from a long debilitating dis-ease that claimed his strength and body, but not his love and spirit! Gods I respect him for that!! News of my cousins dis-ease saddened me, but we haven't been close and really haven't even known each other most of our lives. So as bad as this sounds, it's much like hearing about some random co-worker's relative, and you're sad to know that someone suffers but it really doesn't have that great an impact on your life – say like if it were my own parents, husband or children. But! Ha, one word sentence that starts with but, take that you grammar freaks!! ;-) But, the weird thing is that I've had this nagging thought, weird among thoughts about death and ending it all and what's for dinner, oh yum, potato chips again! The thought that I should really go in for a checkup, get a breast exam and a mammogram, since I am over forty and have never had one before. That and that I really should probably do one of those self-exam things, even though I have no idea what I'm actually feeling for, but I'm suppose to do anyway for early detection and so on. Yea, yeah I'll get to it.

The day after the utterly bad birthday at the funeral home, my husband, daughter and I spent a fairly promising downright good day at Cedar Point. We had fun, and my butt has NEVER hurt that bad at the end of the day, granted it's been three years on a couch when not at work, so this walking thing was something new. I tried my best to leave my butt at Cedar Point, but it's still with me unfortunately! :/ The next two days, the last two day of my first vacation in five years, were spent on the couch…but, I did become Arch-Mage of the mages guild, so it wasn't all a waste. On the way back to work, I remembered the self-exam and my cousin and that I should call her or email her and try to build a relationship, which reminded me of my sister who, gods, I haven't talked to since Christmas! Shit. I seriously need to stop getting so caught up in cashing other peoples checks, that I forget to keep in touch with family. Sometime that week, I was at home in the privacy of my bathroom and REMEMBERED to do a self-exam.

Bad day!

Next bad day!

Bad week! And OMG my health insurance company is f-ing ridiculous! And it's not just me because the woman at admitting trying to get me registered for a mammogram spent 45min trying to get approval for the procedure and I thought she was going to have a fit worse than me – and I'm the one with the lump!!!! Yes, I found a lump. A family friend died a year ago, very quick, and unexpected. One day she was just sick, and it was already too late. Afterword, the doctor had her husband feel her breast to help explain why, he said it felt like a sack filled with marbles. When I felt the marble in my breast I panicked. Got on the couch and started playing a new game, fitting because it was called "fear". I told no one, until two days later when my husband was having his own meltdown about the house and what to do, and not knowing what to do.

In my two days of silence and playing fear and thinking about death, I realized some things I had forgotten about myself. One, I didn't really want to die. Two, what death really is: change, what I really wanted with my thoughts of death was change. I wanted my life to be different, not that I wanted lack of life. Three, I had lack of life, I was already dead. No, I hadn't slit my wrists, taken a fist full of pills or hung myself in the garage – my death; my suicide…was suicide by couch!

Cancer has nothing on couch! At least that is dis-ease with purpose, what the hell did it matter if I had cancer if I was already dead – suicide by couch. The thought set me off on a rollercoaster of laughter that made my kid think I had finally actually gone off the deep-end. Here we were in crisis over the fucking bank taking our house in two months or so, and I'm having fits of laughter all over the floor! Yep, I was actually off the couch.

Here is the parody bio for my SIM self: Who is Sandy? Well that is exactly what she wants to know. Always waiting for life to fulfill her dreams, she has suddenly found herself past forty, with a string of failed friendships and un-achievement behind her. Overweight, undereducated and feeling time slipping by, she is at a cross-roads. Will this be the beginning of a new and fulfilling life or the end of an underwhelming one?

I just remembered one of my forgotten beliefs!

All endings are new beginnings.