As Misty's World Turns


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Mar. 1, 1998

In keeping with my tradition of dedicating a song each month to one of my friends, this month is dedicated to Harry. The song playing is "Knights In White Satin". I chose this song for Harry because he *is* my knight in white satin. Harry has always been here for me when I needed him the most. When I'm fooling with a program I don't understand, or just when I need to be perked up a little, he is always here....my knight in white satin. :)

It always amazes me how fast my moods can change anymore. Within seconds I can go from being very happy and at peace, to being very hurt and upset. Sometimes the other way around too. I used to be the same all the time. But then that was years ago when I wasn't in constant pain, and I was getting a straight 8 hours of sleep at night too.

I awoke to a beautiful, warm, sunny day. Since none of my friends were around I decided to work on graphics today. I sat here in my chair with the window open and noticed how beautiful my spring flowers were. I could see my camellia bush was all in bloom as were my daffodils, snow drops, and violets. Jack needed to go out, so I shut down the computer and took him out. It was even warmer than I'd thought, and we walked around the yard a little. I'd picked some flowers and we headed back inside as I needed to sit back down again.

I scanned both of the flowers and spent the next several hours making new bordered backgrounds. As I sat here creating graphics I felt totally at peace with myself. Pres was cooking dinner and the smell was wonderful. After a wonderful dinner of burgandy beef, rice, fresh green beans with toasted pecans, and homemade bread I got back online to finish off a picture for my friend Jeannie. I also waited for one of my friends to show up for the evening. I sat here playing and responding to mail when I got a notice one of my friends was online. He'd been to see Titanic today, and I was anxious to see what his reaction was to it.

Within a few short minutes my feeling of happiness was changed to that of depression. Like I said before, it's amazing how fast my moods change anymore. I guess I should know better than to let things upset me like I do. I should just take what happens at face value, and even expect such things to happen. My mistake lies in letting people inside. Allowing what other people think and do affect me. Sometimes it just seems like it would be easier to erect a wall and let only very few trusted people inside.

Mar. 2, 1998

I'm not sure if this entry will make any sense, my brain ceased functioning hours ago. I think I'm going completely on.....on what? The word escapes me now. The only thing worse than waking up at 6 am, is waking up at 6 am when you've finally gotten to sleep at 4 am. I wanted to roll over, pick up the phone and cencel my day at my Mom's. But, since she had an appointment at the hospital for blood work at 8 am, I knew better. Today was also her day to have her nails done.

Since I'm down to one comfortable sleep shirt, I decided to hit J.C. Penny's for mens undershirts, (aka my jammies). I've also been on a hunt for a rain coat. Who would think it would be so difficult to find a rain coat in the spring, when all it does is rain???? After going to 3 different stores I finally got lucky. It wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but it beats the hell out of getting soaked everytime it rains. At least it better!

We never got back to my Mother's house until 3 pm this afternoon. We missed very few spots in Greenville I can tell you that. By the second store I was wasted. The pain in my back, knees, shoulders, and hands (from pushing the wheelchair) was unbearable. At one point I had to ask my mom to sign my name to a charge slip because I couldn't hold the pen in my hand.

Everyday it's more of the same. No wonder people with FMS and or CFS are so depressed. It's bad enough having your whole life completely changed due to the inability to do a damned thing. The worst part is the pain. The never ending, mind numbing pain. It seems to take over everything. The simplest things become an unending chore.

I drove home one handed (alternating between the two) because the pain was so intense in my hands. My first thought was screw the mail and the garbage can. Then I remembered how nice Preston was to me yesterday and somehow made it out to the street to get both. Once Jack was fed and watered, I got online. I stayed long enough to delete 5 pieces of junk mail, one Blue Ribbon Award nomination (when will these people ever take the time to read it's for *people* not websites. And it would help if that person was someone other than yourself?). I also sent off a quick get well card to Jausten, and a note to Don that I'd gone back to bed.

I woke up with Jack announcing in my ear that Daddy was finally home. Pres was surprised to see me in bed, rather than online as he normally finds me. Since I spend 8 hours a day, 3 days a week with my Mom, Mon-Wed-Fri we eat out. I was already in my jammies when Pres got home. After letting him know that I felt slightly better, I picked up the phone and ordered pizza. Unless you have FMS and/or CFS, or know of someone with it, you have no idea how badly our minds work.

Pres had wanted black olives and pepperoni on his half of the pizza, and I like mine not ruined (cheese only). What I ended up ordering was half pepperoni, half black olive and half cheese. After I'd hung up Pres said are you sure that's how you wanted that? I asked what he meant. He said you have 3 halves there...what will we end up with? I'll tell you what we ended up with...half black olive and half pepperoni. Once I had all the pepperoni picked off (I gave up on the blk. olive side early on), I sat down to eat my dinner. After dinner I thought a piece of chocolate cake would taste good. Now my stomach doesn't feel too good. (gee...I wonder why...don't you?) My hope is to hold out for another hour before all systems eventually shut down. Whether I make this goal or not shall remain to be seen.

Mar. 3, 1998

I ended up crashing at 10 pm last night. I'd finished my journal entry, talked very briefly to Don, then went to bed. Between the intense pain, and the total exhaustion I just couldn't hold out any longer. It didn't take long and I was out. Although I slept fitfully, I did manage to get more than my normal 2-3 hours of sleep. The pain is still pretty bad today. Just wearing clothes hurts, but at least I feel slightly more rested. I know before the end of the day is out I'll be back in bed. That is if I don't make a quick trip to my Mother's house.

I normally call her on my day home to let her know I'm ok, and to see that she's ok as well. She expects me to phone when I wake up, which is roughtly from 10 am to noon. I expect her to be there when I call. This morning I've been phoning now for almost an hour with no response from her. Growing up the way I did, my first reaction is something has happened to her. The more controlled side of me says maybe she's gone outside to pick a few weeds, or went across the street to visit her neighbor. I do know if I don't get through to her soon, I'm going to drive up there to see if she's ok. I suppose I could phone her neighbor, but I feel as though I'm the one who should be checking on her, not a neighbor lady.

Mar. 4, 1998

For those of you wondering, (I was amazed at my mail on this) my Mom is just fine. I'd decided to give her one more try before I got in the car. As luck would have it, she answered. Turns out she had been across the street visiting her neighbor after all.

I don't think she's too pleased with me today however. Since it's Wednesday, I normally go see her. I was up ALL night long in pain. If it wasn't my shoulders it was my back, then it was my knees, then my hands and feet, then at 4 am this morning I got a migraine. I was able to finally get to sleep just about the time the alarm went off. Pres had come in to wake me and I said I wished I could stay home today. He said why don't you, and I said I knew my Mom had planned to have her taxes done today. Preston was quite upset to think I'd over done it on Monday. He said you aren't up to running all over town anymore. As much as I knew he was right, I thought to myself...what AM I "up" to anymore.

The longer I layed in bed, the worse I felt. I finally made the decision to stay home. I reset the alarm for 7:45 am and went back into a fitfull sleep. When the alarm went off again, I rolled over, picked up the phone and called in sick. At 8 am I knew sleep was not going to be coming, so I got up and got my coffee. My friend Don was home today, and he sat with me for awhile. It's bad enough feeling miserable without being completely alone on top of it. He'd asked me if I'd taken any Tylenol, I answered yes, 2 at 6 am. He suggested I take one more, so I did. Hell, I could take the whole bottle and they wouldn't help. I suppose Tylenol is good for something, I've just never seen what it *was* good for.

Don suggested maybe a warm shower would help. To this I responded..NO! When my pain levels are this high, it feels like the top layer of my skin has been peeled off. The last thing I need is litle needles of water hitting my bare skin. I suppose getting in the tub might help, but I can't get in the tub alone...and there is no one here to help me. I read several months ago how Jack Kavorkian (Dr. Death to some) had assisted a woman with FMS to die peacefully. I remember thinking at the time, that lucky woman, for her it's all over now. I suppose unless you've gone through this, that statement sounds pretty bad. All I know is that I'm really really tired. Tired of no sleep, tired of the constant, mind numbing pain day after day with no end in sight. For a long time I kept hoping for a remission, however brief, but it's been 14 months since my last remission, and it doesn't look like it's coming back anytime soon.

Mar. 5, 1998

It's amazing how much we depend on pets to get us through the day. Even when they are at their worst, they are still here for you. Since we are not able to have children, my dog (Jack) has always been my little boy. I suppose this sounds foolish to many, but ask me if I care. I'm sitting here fighting the desire to cry as I write this. I guess none of us are alone in thinking that if one more thing happens we'll lose it. I know in the grand scheme of things what is happening to me is not as bad as what is happening to other people, but it still doesn't help.

Jack has been sick since the day we bought him. I guess if we'd been better informed about Dalmatians we would have never bought one. Personally I always thought they were cute, and quite stunning. I've learned the hard way that they have problems with kidney stones. Jack has had several operations over the 8 years we've had him. The most serious operation was to make another opening for his stones to safely pass through.

Lately he's been having problems again. It's hard when I know he's in pain and that there is little I can do for him. Harder still to follow him with a brush and "Resolve" carpet cleaner as he bleeds all over the carpets. I'd been online a good share of the morning and hadn't seen him around in a few hours. Since it was getting time for him to ask out, I went looking for him. He was laying on the floor in the other room silently crying. Underneath him was a rather large spot of blood.

Since it's been cloudy here today, I hadn't realized that he'd bled all over the house until I turned on a light. I spent the next 2 hours on my hands and knees scrubbing the floors. When I'd finished my shower I again took up the duty of scrubbing carpets. I'd shut the bedroom door, so at least it was just the bedroom that needed to be scrubbed again. By the time I was ready to take him to the Vet for his appointment he'd bled all over the kitchen. Since it's tile and I was running late I just left it.

The Vet recommended that I leave him to be operated on. He wasn't sure if it would be tonight or tomorrow morning, but assured me Jack would be ready to come home tomorrow night. The half hour drive home seemed awfully quick, and before I knew it I was all alone in the house. When I got home I phoned Pres at work and left a message for him to call me. A few minutes later he phoned. I told him about the kitchen floor and he said leave the kitchen I'll do it when I get home. He also said he'd pick up Jack for me tomorrow after work. I think I'm more stressed out about this than I thought since all of a sudden I don't feel well.

Mar. 7, 1998

Jack came through his surgery fine. I phoned the Vet yesterday and was told he was doing well and could be picked up before 6 pm. Pres had said he would get Jack for me. When they got home I was on the computer (where else?). Jack came bounding into the room so happy to see me. In a few minutes the bleeding started up again. I rushed him into his bed and tried to scrub the carpet.

My evening would be a test of my nursing skills. Not only was he bleeding from his incision but also from a spot on his thigh. From the looks of his thigh, I assumed that must have been where his IV was. I applied pressure on both places as I told him over and over that I loved him. I ended up laying next to him on the floor. It was the only way I could get him to remain in his bed and not bleed all over the room. His ears and nose were both very hot and I knew he was running a temperature. I stayed on the floor with him for hours.

Around 8 pm I let him into the kitchen to get a drink of water, and then I took him outside. The poor guy was so sick. We remained outside for quite awhile till his diarrhea passed. Again I got him to lay in his bed. The bleeding had been stopped for more than 4 hours and I really thought it was over. Around midnight or so I telephoned Jausten. We talked until 3:30 am. As I was getting ready to hang up, Jack started in bleeding again. I quickly hung up, got him on the back porch, then went in search of the carpet cleaner and a brush. I worked on the carpet for well over an hour. By the time I went outside to get Jack off the back porch he was shivering.

We came back inside. Within a few minutes I was able to get the bleeding to stop. By the time I literally collapsed into bed, it was almost 5 am. Pres woke up when he felt the waterbed surge. I explained to him what I'd been doing, and aplogized for waking him. He said since he was awake he'd get up. I slept until 11 am. When I woke up the bedroom carpet was spotted all over with again with fresh blood. I hustled Jack into our bathroom (thank god for tile), and then I yelled for Pres. As I applied preasure to Jack's incision, Preston scrubbed the carpeting.

The plan for the day was to take my Mother to the movies. You see, in our family March 7th is not a happy day. 12 years ago today my Father passed away. I remember the day well. We had several inches of snow on the ground, with a fresh snow starting early that morning. The temperatures were frigid, and the wind was howling. From the moment the heart monitor went flat, the rest of that day seemed to be a bad dream to me. I vaguly remember driving home. Although we had been told on Monday my Father wouldn't live to see the weekend, it still didn't prepare me for what would eventually happen. There are few things in this life harder than loosing a parent you love dearly. Although my Dad is no longer with us, he is to me. I believe that once you love someone, they always remain deep within your heart. That is where my Father lives now.

When I woke up this morning I knew I was going to have to phone my Mom and postpone our date for the movie. I didn't feel comfortable leaving Jack when he's in this shape. For now the bleeding has stopped. I'm just hoping I can keep him quiet so it doesn't start up again.

Mar. 9, 1998

Yesterday we took my Mother to the movies. We were lucky to have a few minutes as we entered the theater when it wasn't pouring. The movie was "Twilight". One of the most disappointing movies I've ever suffered through. I kept looking at my watch and wondering when was it going to be over. Pres took this time to nap, and snore quite loudly. I had to poke him a few times during the quiet parts of the movie. You'd think with a cast including Paul Newman, James Garner, and Susan Sarandon it would have been excellent. IT WASN'T!

Once we *mercifully* left the theater, we went to Red Lobster for dinner. Dinner was uneventfull, and we later took my Mother home. The drive back to our house was interesting to say the least. The fog was as thick as pea soup, the roads were completely flooded, and it was *still* pouring. With all the rain we've had lately my wind shield wipers are shot. I need to make a mental note to have them replaced. (yeah right, like *that's* going to work)

With the stress of Jack being sick, the endless hours of scrubbing carpets, and the miserable weather, it's taken quite a toll on my health . I'm sleeping less than my usual, and wondering when this is ever going to end. Or if it's ever going to end. I can't begin to describe the level of pain anymore. No one would believe me. There are times when I wonder what it was I did that I'm being punished for. Today I spent one of the most miserable days I've had in months. It seemed that no matter what I did, it wasn't right in the eyes of other people.

Among the various things that were pointed out to me were my weight, and how I "need to loose some more". I remember sitting there, biting my tongue and thinking what the hell do you suggest I do!! I've quit eating anything that contains calories, I've quit taking medicine because it was making me bloated and fat. If I could exercise I would. But as I pointed out today, it's damn hard to exercise when you can't even dress yourself, much less WALK.

More and more the pressure gets harder to rise above. I often wonder why I even attempt to try anymore. It all just seems so useless. No matter what I do it's not right. No matter how hard I try to continue doing things I can no longer do, I'm viewed as lazy. I'm so sick and tired of having to defend myself against people who should know better. People that know I have no other option, and know that under the circumstances I'm doing the very best I can. It just seems as though my very best doesn't begin to cut it anymore. No one likes to be sick. No one likes to be made to feel as though they are lazy when they aren't able to do anything physical. When I'm judged by the way my house looks, by the fact that the yard needs mowing, that the garbage has piled up, it hurts. Just once I'd like to see someone walk in my shoes, and then tell me I'm lazy. I'm just so sick and tired of being sick and tired, and fighting for things I shouldn't have to. Namely the respect I deserve and the love I crave.

Mar. 10, 1998

What a long and worthless day this has seemed to me. It seems like everything I've tried to do today has turned to...um...dog doo. I got a message from my friend Harry this morning. He wanted me to download a few programs so we could talk while he was at work. The first program was easy enough to download, but it kept bothering his system at work. He suggested two other programs, neither of which would work for me. One was "corrupted" from the download site, and the other was missing a "dll" file.

As I was messaging Harry, and trying to make some sense of these programs, I was aslo doing a graphic for Clem in PSP. I'd been working on one specific picture she has on her website. I've already redone it for her, but this morning I had another idea for it. I had spent about 5 hours coming up with better and better versions of this picture. Just as I had completed the last piece on the design I lost PSP (naturally before the image was saved). Within minutes I had crashing programs everywhere. I've just now rebooted the computer, and I've decided not to try that little escapade again real soon.

So, for being up since 8 am this morning, I have nothing to show for the last 7 hours. No new programs to talk to Harry on, no new pictures for Clem, and no desire to do a damned thing. Actually, going back to bed sounds really tempting at this point. As all this madness was occuring, I got a phone call from my friend in town. He was hoping we could "do lunch" Thursday. I had to decline his offer. I love hanging out with Kenny, he always makes me laugh, but lately I'm just not up to doing much. The idea of getting up early on my day home, fighting traffic and driving to lunch doesn't appeal to me.

Since we only see each other an average of once every three months, he never knows what to expect from me. I know the last time we went out I was in pretty bad shape. Looking back I realize how good I really was, because I'm even worse now. Things have changed so much in just a few short months. I need something to change soon. I'm hoping that getting my hair cut and permed tomorrow might perk me up a little. But I'm not really holding out much hope. It's like going on a vacation when your world is crashing down around you....eventually you have to go home and face the music.

Mar. 12, 1998

I awoke again to a cold house. I get so sick of nothing working around here. The company that initially installed our heating system is as realiable as dog shit. Ooops I said a bad word. Well, they are! So in December I called another heating company to come fix my heating system. They assured me there would be no more trouble. Famous last words, considering this is the second time in as many days when the heat isn't working.

I got on the phone and was told someone would be here today to fix it for me. An hour or so later I get a call back from them that they are just too booked up today to get to me. The best they can do is come here Saturday. Had I not signed a service agreement, AND paid money already, you know what I'd tell these folks. So, I'm huddled up in blankets trying to stay warm. This is just what someone with FMS needs.

Not only am I having problems with my heat, but the hall bathroom isn't working either. I found this out last night when I tried using it. Naturally I forgot to leave a note for Pres not to use it, so he found out too. lol What I need is a man that will come satisfy my fantasies. No, not sexual, hell, anyone can do that! What I want is a man that sees things that need to be fixed around here, and just does it. No pleading on my part, no empty promises on his part, just someone that will do the required job and do it NOW! Right now if someone said..."I would love to satisfy your wildest fantasy, what is it?" I'd tell them..."There's the heating system and there's the toilet, go at it big boy!

Mar. 13, 1998

In a day filled with angry people and unpleasantness, I did receive one piece of good news. When I came home tonight I saw I had a message on my answering machine. It was the Vet asking me to call at my earliest convenience. Seeing that today was Friday the 13th, I didn't feel too good about this message. I phoned the Vet and was told he was out, but another Vet would speak to me about Jack's pathology report. He told me what they had removed was just a severe infection, and that everything looked very good. It was then I noticed I'd been holding my breath.

I received my phone bill today. Not a real thrill for me. When Pres sees it I'm sure I'll hear all about how it's cheaper to use the internet to speak to Jausten than it is to phone her..etc. I'm just one of those people that has to hear a voice occasionally. I have a real gift for misunderstanding people. try as I might, if there is a way to get it wrong, I'll see it that way. This happened to me last night. As I was reading the text I completely misunderstood what was being said to me. Neither of us was feeling good, and by the time the night ended we were both in tears.

To know that I have made someone I care about that upset hurts me deeply. We spent the remainder of the night apologizing to each other. Long after we had ended our chat I still agonized over my actions and reactions to the written words I had seen. Had I been able to pick up the phone, I'm sure none of this would have happened. Every now and then you just have to hear the reassurance in someone's voice. Written words only goes so far in a relationship, I need to hear the concern, love, and compassion in a voice to totally reassure me.

Mar. 14, 1998

I made a real mistake today. I vacuumed my car. I guess this doesn't sound too terribly bad, but now I can't move anything. Just typing this entry hurts like hell. Preston had washed both our cars today, and I felt the least I could do was to clean the interior of my car. It wasn't all that bad, a few leaves, a few stray dog hairs off our clothes. I took quite a few breaks as I worked. By the time I had finished I couldn't stand up straight. The pain throughout my body was incredible. Once I made it back into the house I headed straight for bed and remained there the rest of the afternoon.

I got up later in the afternoon for something to eat. My hands had begun shaking and I figured I just needed some food in me. I ate a few crackers, and drank some water, and my hands seemed to settle down a bit. After I'd fed Jack I took him out to go to the bathroom. Pres was mowing the yard when Jack saw him and started to pull away from me. I figured the last thing I needed was to be dragged through the yard, so I let go of him. Pres then took care of him as I collasped into one of the outside chairs. I then came back inside and went back to bed.

Don has spent the last half hour trying to convince me to call my doctor Monday morning. His view is that there has to be something he can give me to ease the pain. What I tried to explain to him is if I were to phone my doctor it would turn into defending myself against going back on FMS medication. I quit those drugs for a good reason...they weren't working! I spent almost 9 years taking drugs. Most of them put me so far under I felt as though I was drowning. I remember vividly the affects of the last drug I was on. I also remember the month it took me to clean out from it. I felt just like those people you see on TV trying to overcome their addiction to cocaine or something. It was not a fun period in my life.

I have people that write to me asking me for the magic answer to all of this. I wish I knew what it was, I really do. I too am tired of never feeling good. Of having my life continually changed by what I can no longer do. The list of what I can do keeps getting shorter and shorter. Any change to my routine throws me into a tail spin, both mentally and physically. I've really tried to be positive about this whole experience. Sometimes I almost feel like I'm gaining ground against it. Then I'll do one small thing and back down I go again. I'm just so tired of it all.

Mar. 15, 1998

As I sit here tonight trying to figure out my thoughts one main theme seems to supersede everything I feel. The one theme being this. We are the creators of our own destiny. We alone have the power to make our lives what we want. We may not be able to harness the energy to have our lives be exactly what we want, but we do have the power of decision. We can choose to let other people tell us what is right and what is wrong. We can sit back and passively accept what other people tell us as fact, or, we can choose for ourselves what is absolute fact. Fact as we know it deep within our own hearts.

One fact is that each of us possesses something special within ourselves. It may show forth in many different ways. It may be a creativity towards the arts, maybe the sciences, and then maybe it shows forth in what type of human being we are. Whatever it is, it is what makes us special in our own right. Too many times we allow other people, be it friends, family, or society itself to tell us who we are. This is wrong. No one can tell you which path in life to follow any more than we can tell the sun not to rise in the morning. To allow other people to destroy the love we should have for ourselves is wrong. People who practice this form of control are wrong.

All of us have been guilty of not believing in ourselves at one point in our lives. If you're like me, you've not believed in yourself for a very long time. Maybe even never. When you start to believe people who say you are wrong, lazy, stupid, fat, worthless to society, etc. You allow them to take something very special from you. You're self worth as a human being. When you are left with nothing but hatred for yourself, you are left with nothing. This is the point of no return. This is when you lay awake nights not only thinking if suicide is the answer, but actually planning it. Planning what you will say in the note that you leave behind, and wondering how the people who's lives you have touched will respond to the news that you are no more. I say "leave a note" because you want these people to know that they are the reason you have been driven to such an extreme measure.

Each of us lives our own personal hell on earth. Some of us by our own choosing, and many of us by the hand of some unforeseen force. We have but two choices. We can sit back and allow our problems to eat us up, and thus forcing us to kill ourselves as our only escape from them. Or, we can choose to fight. Fight to stay alive, and fight to be happy. To be quite honest, it's much easier to give in than it is to take a stand for not only what is what you want in life, but what you deserve as a person. I once met someone special who told me that I was an amazing lady. When I was told this I laughed. I didn't see the meaning in this. When I questioned what they thought was so amazing about myself I was told that I was a fighter, and that alone made me amazing. My response was this: "it's easy to be a fighter when given no other choice". I was wrong, you see I did have a choice. Whether I realized it then I had chosen to live.

Life for many of us is not easy. I receive countless letters from people I have never met before. Each person has their own story of their hell on earth. As I sit and read these letters I'm reminded that my problems as I perceive them, are minimal at best. There is always someone out there who has it much worse than I do. This should not diminish what I am going through. This should serve as an example to me that if they can get through these times, then so can I. So, for the time being I have chosen to take a stand in my life. To surround myself with possitive people. When I'm faced in a situation where I must deal with people who hold negative feelings towards me (as we all will), I will not let them inside me. I will not let them destroy what is fundamentally my right. Self esteem is too prescious a commoditiy to let anyone destroy it. It is the one thing that allows us to go on. Our love for ourself, and the knowledge each of us is special in one way or another is damned important.

Mar. 17, 1998

I must have been delusional when I wrote my last journal entry. Rereading it tonight I kept thinking who is that insane woman? I must have taken one too many pills or something. To think that what other people think of me doesn't matter is insane. All my life I have felt like I've been searching. When I began my search I thought I knew what I wanted out of life. Now I have no idea what I want out of life. Nothing but one small thing. Someone to be there for me, and share the intensity of love that I have for them.

Everytime I think I'm close, I realize I have so much farther to go. I once felt I had found exactly what I wanted. Then as the years passed something happened. Something so minute that most never even noticed. But I did. I saw it slowly going out to sea on the crest of a wave. As hard as I tried, I couldn't seem to quite reach it and bring it back in to shore. There is sits on the waves going farther and farther out to sea.

I guess it's only natural to want someone out there to care what happeneds to you. I always have. I never seem to get what I need the most though. The harder I look, the harder it is to find. When I think I've found what I need, something happens and it's gone again. I know it's me, it has to be. I just wish I knew what I could do about it. What is it that I do to repel people? Especially the ones I love the very most. Without them life is meaningless.

Mar. 18, 1998

I have no idea what to write anymore. Part of me says don't even bother. The other part says I have to keep going. I just wonder what reason there is in going on. All I know is that I'm no good alone. I need someone. Someone to be here for me when I'm happy, someone to care when I'm not feeling well. Just someone. Someone once told me it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Yeah right. If you believe that one, I've got some nice swamp land for you to buy.

Over the last few hours I've heard them all. Everything from you'll find someone else, to you can't look for love...it will find you. Do these people really believe this? I don't. All that I do know is that once again I'm alone. All around me people are going on with their lives, and I feel left out. I've felt left out my entire life, so this shouldn't bother me, but it does. Maybe this is why it bothers me so much.

I'm so tired of feeling alone, and unloved. It seems like the harder I try, the farther away it is. I've gotten to the point now where I'm just tired. Tired of the games, the hurt, the endless tears. And for what? I guess it is true. You come into this world alone...and you leave it that way too.

Mar. 22, 1998

I'm always amazed at how other people, and different situations affect my mood. Yesterday I spent the entire day with a couple who are very much in love. It was both exciting and depressing at the same time. I was compelled to watch them, although I knew it was rude to stare.

Being with them brought back so many memories of when I was first in love. You know that feeling....where you just have to be touching the other person, somehow. Just their touch is enough to make your heart beat faster. As I sat with these people I found my mind wandering back to when I first was married. How every word that came out of my mouth was "Preston this, and Preston that". Back when hearing his voice or seeing him enter a room would make my heart leap.

I guess it isn't until you spend time with someone newly in love that you're reminded how much has really changed over the years. How they no longer seem as excited about you as they once were, or how your feelings have seemed to hardened over the years. I guess it's normal to fall into the rut where your spouse is taken for granted. It's hard to keep that "young love" alive....maybe even impossible.

Mar. 26, 1998

It never ceases to amaze me how much our lives revolve around what other people think of us. Wether it be our accomplishments, our homes, or just what they think of us as a person. Recently I've been helping a friend with her website. She works two jobs and has little time to just putter on her computer. I thought she'd done a wonderful job considering she is very new to HTML. Since I have little to keep myself busy lately, I've been making her small gifts for her website.

She had decided to enter a few contests at GeoCities. Since I shy away from this sort of thing I had no idea it was a good idea to have someone review your website first. This is a woman that in a short span of time has completed a very interesting website. In a few short days she was reduced to tears and frustration. All because of what someone else thought of her accomplishments. I read these reviews, and thought that most of the criticism was very nit picky.

Since this week was my friend's birthday, and I know she has little time to devote to her website, I decided to pitch in and give her a hand. In less than 48 hours the two of us had her all set for another review by these women. This morning she left me a note saying that she had passed her review. She also said this whole process had given her a negative feeling about "competing". Trying to make her website what *other* people wanted to see left her feeling very unhappy.

As I was working last night I got a message from Jausten. We have discussed her coming to see me. She wrote last night and said she had her plane tickets. I was SOOoo happy. She and I have been friends for a year now and have never had the opportunity to meet. It's difficult for me to describe my feelings towards Jausten. Never before have I ever gotten quite this close to another woman. She is a combination of my sister, my best friend, and my confidant. We joked around a little, then she went off to work.

When I phoned my mother this morning, I told her that Jausten had gotten her tickets and was really coming to S.C. Her response was..."are you going to get your carpets cleaned?" 8 litle words were all it took to take my enthusiasm away. I'm sure that Jausten isn't going to give a damn what my house looks like. Nor is she the type that is going to hold the fact that my house is a wreck against me. Why is it we are always being judged by others? Why can't they accept certain facts and leave us alone. "Certain facts" being that I am no longer able to maintain this house. Nor am I able to do much of anything else.

People who critisize others are wrong. Unless you are experiencing what you are criticizing, you have no idea what that person's life is like. Why is it that we can't be taken as we are and left to manage our lives the way we see fit? Why is it that we judge ourselves by what other's think of us?

Mar. 27, 1998

Every now and then we all need to feed our soul. For me, this means getting away from it all. After a long stressful week it seemed nice to eat dinner out and then wander the streets of downtown Greenville. There is a "river", as the locals call it...(more like a fair sized creek if you ask me)...that runs through the center of town. Along the river are paved walkways, flowers, flowering cherry trees, fountains and small parks. Just "walking" (Pres pushing me in my chair) along the paths and watching the flow of the river was enough to make the stresses of the week fade away.

When I think back on my life I can see so many changes, most of them not real positive. Pres and I spent a long time talking about our life, and our past. Reminiscing about what we "used" to do and what we do now. We used to spend all of our time in parks, or a stand of woods somewhere. Many times we'd find a quiet lake and just hang out there talking. It occurs to me that we really never talk anymore. We also never do the things we used to. We seem to spend our time apart doing things alone now. Tonight it seemed so nice to spend some real time together, alone, just enjoying the sounds of a waterfall.

Mar. 29, 1998

For a change I awoke early yesterday. I suppose getting to bed before 3 am helped. Since I had a little more energy than usual, I helped Pres with the cleaning. It seemed nice to actually do something for a change, instead of watching someone else do everything for me. We had the house finished by noon and decided since it was so beautiful outside we'd go to the lake for the afternoon.

As we drove the 40 minutes to our favorite lake my hands began shaking. I knew I should have eaten something before we left the house, but there wasn't time. I asked Pres if he wanted to eat before we went to the lake, or afterwards. He said he was starving and that he'd like to eat first. This sounded great to me. For the last few years we've tried to eat at this one restaurant. Everytime we stop, it's closed. As you might have guessed, it was closed yesterday too.

You could almost hear the rumblings of our stomaches we were both so hungry. Pres spotted a little eating place next to a gas station and suggested we eat there. My first thoughts were, gee...this place doesn't look all that great. I was so hungry though I didn't give it another thought. We both ordered the fried flounder. Since the price was a whopping $5.41 I wasn't expecting to get very much to eat. My mouth literally dropped open when the waitress came out with two plates heaping with fried flounder. There had to be 6 huge pieces on each of our plates, not to mention a mountain of great coleslaw, hush puppies, and fries.

Pres is *very* fussy about fish and he was practically drooling over how good this fish was. When the waitress came over to inquire about our meal we both said it was the best fish we'd ever eaten, at any price. She was surpirsed to find out we'd driven all the way there to basically eat. The local people feel if you drive more than a few miles you've gone on a long trip. (lol) Since both Pres and I grew up in the middle of nowhere, driving an hour for dinner is no big deal to us.

Once we finished dinner, we headed for the lake. It was 4 pm and I didn't expect to see many people there. I was surprised however to see that there was only one other couple there. We practically had the place to ourselves. In another month you won't be albe to find space to set a chair. Pres got my wheelchair out and rolled me down the hill to the lake. Then he went back to the car for his chair and the cooler of Pepsi's. We sat about a foot from the water and spent the next few hours listening to the gentle sound of the waves splashing against the shore and watching fishing boats, speed boats, jet skiers, and a brave little girl swimming.

We eventually lost the sun behind some pine trees. Pres laughed at me when I put on my jacket and wrapped my legs up in my blanket. I suppose I did look rather stupid sitting there all bundled up, while a little girl played and splashed in the water only a few feet from us. As much as I hated to, we eventually had to return home.

We gathered up our stuff and Pres began the long push back up the hill. The pine needles were so thick that he had a difficult time getting me back up the hill. For some strange reason I found this terribly funny and began laughing my head off. The more I laughed, the harder it was for him to get me up the hill. By the time we reached the car my stomach hurt from laughing and we'd attracted the eyes of everyone nearby. They probably wondered who that nut in the wheelchair was no doubt.

It seemed nice to get away from the house and not be in a store to do it. It also seemed nice to spend some time alone with Pres just laughing and having a good time. Today has been a work day for him, as I've played on the computer most of the day. I guess I'm trying to get my strength up to face another hectic week with my Mom.

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