Doin' what they do

Yesterday when the knock came on my door, I had on my oldest nightgown with the opening almost to my knees. I folded the gown to show the least amount of skin and answered the door.

On the other side of the door stood two almost identically dressed young men: black dress pants, white shirts with the sleeve buttoned at the wrist and blue ties. Hello, the one on the right said. Can we speak with your for a minute? Mormons, I said. Yes, the one on the right said. What do you know about Mormons, he asked.

Well, I said someone named Smith started out in Missouri in the 1800s and headed west. They ended up in Salt Lake City. Mormon Tabernacle Choir, I said. Donnie and Marie were Mormons, I said. Some girl was kidnapped. Elizabeth Smart, the one on the right said. Humm, yes. She played some instrument, I said.

Oh yeah, then there was that Jeffs guy. Warren Jeffs, the one on the left said. He was part of a splinter group. Right, I said.

Do you consider yourself a Christian, the one on the right asked. Well, I don't believe in heaven that has streets paved with gold or has many mansions. I guess I consider myself spiritual. I believe there is a God. I believe he is light and love and energy, I said.

The one on the right asked me if I knew why they were called Mormons. I drew a blank, but he opened his backpack and showed me a book. This is the Book of Mormon, he said, we believe it like we do the Bible.

Then I said something about all the New Testament was not written at the same time. Some books were written several hundred years after Christ died. Revelation, the one on the right said. John the Revelator, I said.

Then, I said there is one group who believes that only x amount of people go to heaven. The one on the right said, although I don't like to talk bad about other religions, I think it is 144,000. I said I've always wondered why if they believed that, why they kept trying to convert you. I'm sure the quota already has been met.

Then the one on the right, who I guess was the leader of the two, asked me if I prayed. Yes, every day I said. Did you know that God will always give you an answer if you ask, he said. Well, sometimes we aren't receptive so we don't hear, I say. But he always answers, the one on the right said.

Can we come talk to you again, the one on the right asked. No I said as I was saying I would pray that they would find someone receptive. I smiled as I slowly closed the door.

Anxiety

The day began pretty well. I had cookies for breakfast and a ham and cheese sandwich and ice cream for lunch.
 Now all I can think of is the manager coming Monday to look at the apartment and take pictures. I get new flooring. The down side of that is I have to move all the furniture. If I know in enough time when the man plans to come, I can get help from at least two of the godsons. But until it all happens, I will sit and worry. The what ifs always cause me to fret for hours.

That's what friends are for

I had a friend who I met on the internet several years ago. We had a lot in common. We could talk about most anything, although I later learned he was the talented one who knew endless facts about any subject you could name. We were both homebound because of incurable diseases.

We knew each other for a relatively short time before he died.
Through a letter I wrote to his parents, I got to know a tiny bit about where my friend came from. I continued to write and gained another friend. Just like throwing a rock in a pond which cases ripples, you never know where your actions will take you.
Don't be afraid to take that first step. Your life just might change.

Sometimes I wish I could move through life without the weight of anxiety and depression to hold me back. Some people think you can choose to be happy and live your life la ti dah. Don't you think I would choose to be happy and carefree if I had control. Really, no one wants to sit all day long and count your mistakes. No one enjoys having no energy or desire to do things. The dark cloud that hangs over your head may seem invisible to others but it is quite real to you.

Going, going, gone

The days drag by. I sleep, I eat, I sleep some more. Then it starts over. I might as well be dead, but I don't want to die.

I wanted fried chicken for lunch, but I did not want to get dressed to go get it. It's hot outside. I did not want to lug my o2 tank to the car. The road department is working on most of the main streets that would take me to chicken. I do not want to bother anyone to get it for me. I hate to ask for help.

I had the chance to see some friends who were on their way through from Colorado. At the last minute, I couldn't make myself go. I was told not to think about it but to be spontaneous.

I am sinking without an anchor.

True friends

I cleaned out my friend's list on Facebook again. At this rate I will have two friends by the end of June.

The lack of sympathy from supposed friends prompted the latest clean out. I had my cat of more than 16 years put to sleep. Life for Pogo had become painful. I took him to the vet for the final time though it broke my heart. I posted about my heartbreak on Facebook. About half of my "friends" bothered to say something about my loss. More than one day went by before I began unfriending people to allow everyone the chance to see my post. Only a couple spoke up.

I needed my friends. Only a few came through. The rest proved they were not really my friends.

Sometimes love hurts

Today I did one of the hardest acts a pet lover can do. I took my Pogo to the vet and she injected him with a solution that stopped his heart.

I did not want to do this to my sweet boy, and the very thought made me sick to my stomach. But I loved him even more.

His quality of life had gradually declined over the past year. He did not want to eat. All he did was sleep, sometimes on the back of the couch and sometimes next to my body. When we went for a checkup, the vet said he had lost two pounds and running my hand down his back I could feel every vertebrae.

Momo, knowing something was not right, started picking on Pogo. Hissing at him and pushing him away from the food and water.

I rescued Pogo from the pound when he was about two months old. My godson, Corey, was watching the noon news when the tv station would feature animals that needed homes. Corey came to his mother and I all upset because this kitten was going to die if someone did not adopt him. I had just recently had a cat who died and was not sure I was ready for another. I promised Corey I would go and check.

Three days later Pogo became part of my family. For 16 years, he snuggled with me at night, licked my fingers and listened when I had a bad day. How could I not do this for my boy who had unconditionally loved me?

So, today I made sure Pogo did not hurt anymore. I will miss you and love you the rest of my life. Rest in peace my sweet boy.

Just another day in paradise

Two days seems the max for me before the blues drag me down. Let me tell you, the situation wears me out. Then the bad days stack up like a house of cards. Pretty soon a puff of wind sends my emotions flying. I crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and hope I can sleep the day away. Even if I do, I feel no better than I did.

The little voice in my head keeps harping at me: you are ugly, you are no good, no one likes you, you are worthless. Some days I just want to say shut up. You don't think I know this already?

I castigate myself for doing the wrong thing. I castigate myself for doing the right thing but feeling bad about the choice.

I am sorry I cannot help you. I know you suffer more than I. I cannot seem to keep my keel even enough to feel like I would do anyone else any good. If that makes me seem selfish, then I am selfish.

We only get one chance at this life and I am afraid I get the failing grade.