FUCK THE WESTBORO BAPTIST CHURCH AND IT'S BIGOTED FOLLOWERS!!

There, I feel much better now....

Congressman Patrick Kennedy of Rhode Island, in his public statement on yesterday's passage of health care reform, included the following description of mental health and addiction coverage:

"A key aspect of this legislation that is of particular importance to me is the extension of the mental health parity protections established into law last year by my legislation, the Paul Wellstone and Pete Domenici Mental Health Parity and Addiction Equity Act.  Not only are these protections extended to all plans in the Exchange, but mental health and substance use benefits are a part of the essential benefits package created by this legislation.  For the 67 percent of adults and 80 percent of children who need mental health care that do not receive it, this victory cannot be understated.  Today marks a new day and a giant leap forward towards our transition from a "sick care" system to one which is preventive, collaborative, and patient-centered."

Eating everything in site due to the fact that for the past three months, one or both of our older vehicles have been in for repairs!  So much for the two weeks I did wonderfully abstaining from so much sugar and carbs.

Sam came home today stating that the truck STILL has a slight miss when he starts it...paid $500 today for that miss to be gone.

Really freaked out about the car thing. We both have to have a vehicle. We both go in different directions everyday. I must get to work through the week and graduate school on the weekends.

Ain't life just freaking grand?

I must not do an Easter Basket of goodies this year unless I ship it down to Victoria!

*she yells*

Just finished watching the movie a bit ago for the hundredth time. Though the movie goes on about the issue, it definitely expresses the message.

Everyone in this country has the right to good health care!!  It is not a luxury.  It should be a right to all people.  And, how sad, sad, sad that it still doesn't exist.

....are not from my biological father's immediate household!

Hellish things I have endured throughout the whole death and dying thing in relation to the man who called himself a father to his children.

Hogwash!

I have not been so sickened in my life to know the things my father got by with here on earth. I would that I never knew the man. However, upon asking my mother why she did allow me to know him, her reply to me was that she wouldn't have wanted me to resent her for not telling me of him, and introducing me to him again.

I believe I could have gotten over the resentment. I really believe that I could have gotten over the resenting my mother. Nothing has ever kept me from loving my mother; even though she also did not raise me and I did not have a permanent home with my mother.

I had a wonderful place to fall....only wish I could go back to that place at present, as my thoughts of what has transpired in the past month have sickened me all over again. In my heart and mind, I can go back home to the coalfields though...and I'm working my way back there to that haven of peace.

The poor excuse for a man that my father was is very sad. The saddest part is that he somehow was able to justify his miserable actions by using selective memory. He tended to transfer everything he was onto other people. Oh how I wish I'd never met him.

However, three very real people became part of my life for having known my biological father. My step-sisters will ever be special to my heart. One of them is the most sane of the three because she made the decision to be sane.

I have three half brothers; two of them, I know. I have one half sister I met one time, and one half sister who died when she was four years of age from a rare liver disease. These are all the people I became aware of whenever I walked into my biological father's world.

I am grateful to have met my half sister that time. I am grateful my mother named me after the little girl who died. The photographs of her are sweet. I am grateful for some special moments with two of my half brothers from when I was very young. And I am grateful to know my step-sisters. I am especially grateful for the one step-sister who is sane. I am glad she never allowed my father's rippling effect ruin her. She is amazing.

My faith teaches me to think on the things which are lovely. I am pursuing that pathway. God be with me, and keep me whole and sane throughout the remaining days of my life.

Lovely.....

It is official. I am doing the scariest thing I could do for myself beginning Friday evening.

I am registered for the first semester of graduate classes with Lindsey Wilson School of Professional Counseling; which offers a masters of education and liberal arts degree towards licensure in the areas of mental health, and/or marriage and family counseling.

Having been through many sessions of counseling and psychotherapy for myself, I should like to ask the school for some kind of honorary degree. However, I feel certain I will have to do all the other work required for earning the title, Licensed Professional Counselor.

I haven't been in school for twenty plus years. I am thrilled and nervous. I loved college. I could have become a professional student and lived in a college town for the rest of my life probably. Well, maybe not for the rest of my life...

The program is set up for the working population of folks who want to attend graduate school and have to keep working to support themselves and/or their families. Classes will take place on the campus of our local community college. We'll meet every Friday afternoon at 4:00pm, and classes are over by 9:00pm Friday nights. Saturday is all day from 9:00am to 4:00pm. From what I've heard, the classes are interesting, and the testing is very difficult. Of course, I would expect testing to be difficult in graduate school. Testing was difficult in undergraduate school. And I had severe test-taking anxieties twenty plus years ago...

I'm a different person today than I was back then. However, my biggest fears still abound regarding testing. I do believe I will soldier on and do what needs to be done to relieve those anxieties. I think I can; I think I can....

Wish me luck.

By the way, the orthopedic surgeon I've been seeing for two years, has decided not to do any more work on my knees because of my age; my weight; and my much activity. It never made sense to me when I heard it all from others who have gotten the same responses. However, I do believe that because my weight is not distributed all over, and the most of it is in my stomach, my surgeon may have a point. I think I'll be losing some weight this year. I've been running like crazy to help my mother. And now I'm going to start school. I believe I will lose some weight this year. I will be busy. Hopefully I can schedule some time at the wellness center pool. It's the only real exercise I can handle at this point.

Peace.

There is always hope for people who wish to take control of their own lives. Take the time to watch the film now. Share it with friends and loved ones. There is always hope...

Visit the VOCAL website; a parent Co-Op for people who are embracing wellness from mental health disorders and issues. Read our Firewalkers book!

It's just after the bewitching hour on Sunday morning. I do this every morning...wake up to use the bathroom and think about stuff. It's all the stuff, either good or bad, that takes my sleep quite often.

I wrote that I would make the trip back to Cleveland yet again...to say goodby to my father. I've been rethinking the plan. I was going to try to kill myself to get there again. Sam and I have been financially strapped since summer months; due to all the dental work Sam's had to have done. My old car also bled us for more money throughout the same time period.

I don't want to see my father dying. And, I don't want to struggle to be there for it. I've already given more consideration to him, and to his wife, than either of them have ever given me. I know I've been here before...at the place where I've told you I was firm on stuff regarding my father...so hush up; your thoughts are loud in my ear. Not really. The truth of the matter is, I have been roller coastering between pity and anger for the man for a long time. Now I pity him for the way he is dying; but, it's a strange thing I feel...it's not a death he doesn't deserve. I cry. Then I feel tough again. I cry more. Tough again more.

I saw my father in September, and I want to remember that. I want to remember him when he was well. I cannot work myself silly to get to a man, who never worked to get to me. Yes, I have feelings. I just choose to feel them here in a comfortable and safe environment...away from the potential of daggers flying in my direction while his wife's emotions are out of sorts. I never felt "home" with my father...NEVER.

I told him not long ago, that I wondered about the relationship we could have had all those years; the one that was doomed from the beginning. He whispered to me then that he believes we have a pretty good relationship now. He can believe whatever he wants to believe; whatever he wants...

I am working on saying goodby to my father now. I will call him. I will be myself with him. I will tell him goodby.

And that will be the end of whatever my father was to me, and I to him.