I have a very strange mental condition (on top of the one that's been clinically diagnosed, LOL!), and I'm working hard on changing it. It seems like I have a grasp on it but the very moment I relax and stop focusing on it, that's when it all falls apart.

Honestly, it's like a fear of success. In a strange way, when ever I get close to something that I want I find myself sabotaging it. Be it the medical transcription, the losing weight, the happiness I've been feeling being so spiritually connected, it seems that I go out of my way to find ways to stop the flow of everything. I've noticed it especially with my contentment in where I am and who I have in my life. I keep doing things that make me see the pieces I'm missing rather than the expansive goodness I have, and I keep almost looking for things to bring me down.  I think I might want to think about why I do that, because it doesn't get me anywhere but closer to where I started versus where I want be.

This is the kind of stuff that makes me sick to my stomach.

Seriously. A CAKE worth $1M?! There are people living on the streets, kids are starving, and they make a cake decorated in DIAMONDS which they are selling for a million dollars?! Really?!

Humph. I'm willing to bet that the 1M is NOT going to be given to any charities...

For some reason, this video brought tears to my eyes. I guess because it was so unexpected to the customers and such an expression of happiness and joyful expression by those performing, I couldn't help thinking that if we could approach life like this, approach each other like this, the world could be just as happy as the people who found themselves witness to it.

Sometimes I like to read my old journals to see how far I've come in my life. There is one particular journal I avoid though; the one that spans from 1998-2001. I call that time of my life "The Mark Years," and I don't like revisiting those years because there is so much pain and terror written between the lines of that journal. Today I decided to read through the book for no reason other than I was cleaning out the bookcase, and now I am literally sick to my stomach.

In particular was the entry 10/30/00 which says, "... returns at 10:30pm, drunk, and I told him I didn't want to talk to him because of starting my new job tomorrow. He spends until about 2am yelling at me, calling me a c*nt and a whore, a piece of sh!t, I deserve to get AIDS, I'm a waste of skin..." I believe this is also the night that he pinned me up against the wall, ripped up my calendar and shoved pieces in my mouth, then threw the other pieces in my face... Of course that could have happened during one of the 'events' in September...

The thing of it is, no one knew. It all began much, much earlier than that of course, but no one knows the Truth of my life during that whole span time. I don't think I even know, because I spent so much time in a fog of depression and alcohol that I don't remember a lot of it. Even some of the things I I just read about I don't remember at all. All I know is that I lost a lot of friends because of it (including my very best friend from college) because I was sporting a lot of bruises, both mentally and physically, that I couldn't let anyone see. I missed a bridal shower, a birthday party, some really big life events for people I loved dearly because I was so embarrassed and ashamed of just about every aspect of my life. I guess it's happened to a lot of abused people, but I didn't really put myself into that kind of a category until very recently.

I often wonder if roads like the one I traveled are the norm for people who find religion/spirituality later in life. It seems like each and every person I meet within my spiritual world has a story similar to mine, and I am beginning to think that the New Age Revolution is in response to people who were so lost and hurt that their hearts and spirits reached out and found each other.

Hmmm. Maybe the rest of this thinking belongs on my other blog. Seems a bit deep for my daily update space

We had the stomach flu here but it was so weird. Ian woke us up at 2:30am by crashing into the room, stating "I threw up!" Sean was great, and he cleaned the floor while I cleaned up Ian. Ian climbed in to bed with us, at then threw up again about 2 hours later. We had to strip the bed, remake it, and then we slept for another hour. He threw up 2 more times, then climbed onto the couch where he lay quietly watching TV. At 8:15am I decided to wake up Roo, and as soon as I opened the door I knew. Gross!

I gave Roo a bath, got some crackers together, and attempted to make the best of the day. Sean called me mid-morning to say, "Be ready. I've gotten sick too." But, I never got sick. The kids barely ate all day, and when Sean came home both he and Ian climbed into bed for the night, Roo following at around 6pm.

Everyone is right as rain today though. How strange! I'm not complaining, but it's so weird.