T U E S D A Y . O C T O B E R . 2 0 T H . 1 9 9 8

Dear diary,

It's been 7 days and nearly one pound of Jelly Belly jellybeans since my last confession. Yesterday was the day in which I bitched and moaned and then the phone call that left me in shock.

So here I am diary of mine, neglecting my drafting board and piles of "to be altered" plans. I am absolutely paralyzed with stress. My hands shake, my head is plagued with a migraine that imitrex won't even cure and I just don't know how to help myself. I know I am a strong person, I know how to deal with most anything flung my way but I've been pushed beyond my "ability to cope level". Like a gas tank topped off, fuel is splashing and saturating my shoes with an UN-repairable stain.

Today started off well enough with the leaves dancing at my car tires as I left for work. The leaves falling and cascading down as I drove through the tiny village towards the awaiting expressway. I truly love the fall and the changing of season, Thanksgiving and the Harvest celebrations. Thanksgiving is the only holiday I will participate in celebrating. The holidays lost meaning for me after the passing of my uncle, just shortly after his move and retirement. I suppose the holidays died with him.

I am reflective only because I can not see through toward any future plans, I can only take things day by day or at best week to week. Makes me wonder if Shauna was right about Saturn and the changes it will push forth on those of us.

I can't imagine what would happen to my parents if they divorced. I know they would be happy to be rid of one another but I'm willing to bet they would be lonely. What would they call me for, who would they have to complain about? I've spent entirely too long trying to fill the void in their lives that they've created for each other. I don't altogether resent having been placed into that position, perhaps I am merely "used to it". I doubt they know how to be alone, I say this as justification for their comfort in remaining together in misery for so long. Both of my parents have threatened to leave or die so many times it's like running your palm over the soft and worn knee of your favorite jeans. I am detached. I look at them as a married couple with problems not as my parents going their separate ways. And they look to me for approval.

D E A D E N E D