After Midnight

 We are still covered in snow. I have a glacier in my yard but managed to clear about 5 feet to get the car into the garage without sliding into the yard. It still slips but not as bad.

Side roads are just a mess. I haven't been out except for physical therapy. The back and leg problems persist. I had a steroid shot in my left hip on Tuesday. It's sore, but gradually getting better. They also reduced my Cymbalta back down from 60 mg to 30 mg. Side effects as usual. Now I'm having other side effects with the drop. Can't win.

I finished the first draft of the Dream Stealer Series: Book 1: Where Dreams Begin (working title) and began Book 2: Eye of the God (also working title). Feel so strange to say that. 

I'm exhausted tonight. It was a horrible day, and the night doesn't look good either. I'm struggling with some things. Can't go into it here. I don't want to go into it in my head either. I haven't been blogging because I've been writing for hours a day, every day. I stop to go to appointments and church, but with the hip and leg pain it's difficult to go much other than that. Around the house it takes longer to do the things that need doing, if I can do them. So, I've been doing them when I felt like it. Laundry in a basket on the couch for three weeks. All sheets and towels. Finally, put the towels away, but it's time to wash again. 

Truth is, I'm tired, y'all. Tired of everything. I said I wanted to get in my car and drive until the road ends. Maybe at the end, I can sit and not think or feel or do anything. 

Yeah, sounds like death. 

No, sounds like peace. But I don't really want to leave yet. Not sure how to handle it when both staying and leaving are unattractive. Kind of stuck in the middle. So, I had to make a decision that worked for me to just keep moving forward to an expected end. That's from Jeremiah 29:11. 

“I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” 

I've taken some hits in the faith department in the last seven months. No idea what is expected, and I certainly have no more expectations of anything. I've gone on autopilot and someone else can fly this bucket. I wasn't joking when I said I was tired. I'm beyond tired. And I don't want to think. I've thought too much since October. 

What I want is my brain quiet unless it's important or related to the story. Rehashing my life choices isn't important. I can't change them. Making plans was never my strong suit, and I am not doing that. I can get a travel agent. 

I think that's why I've been writing like an insane person to the point I've flared that damaged nerve in my left hand. Burns like mad. And yet, here I am, writing after midnight. Writing helps divert thoughts that would pour out like lava after I get into bed. They leave me in an ash heap. By morning I'm dealing with the fallout. 

Don't say stop thinking. If it were that simple, I wouldn't be exhausted and awake. I've tried scripture mantras, prayer, medicine, and teas. And yet, here I am, writing after midnight. 

The good news is that I've written 11,232 in six days. Insane. I'm taking more breaks, though. Eight-hour shifts of writing have nearly crippled me. So I'm trying to get up more often and walk around the house. Too dangerous to get out with ice everywhere.

The weekend is right there. Try to have a good one. Stay warm. Stay upright. Stay safe. 

Snowfall 2026

 

At the last measurement, around 9 a.m. We had 6.5 inches. It is still snowing and is 13 degrees. The city has mostly shut down. No church, and I'm guessing most stores are not open. 

I hate the snow. I used to love it. But 2009 did several irreversible things. One was to take the best thing that ever happened to me. The other was to remove any fondness for snow I possessed. I have photos from that event of me playing in the snow with my two yr old Sarah. It started as a beautiful day and ended in a frozen hell. 

So, I'm not enjoying anything about this day. 

I dealt with memories yesterday. I'm not glad to be doing it again today. Let's just say that the last few months have been a deluge of memories that I would rather not have remembered.  

Why I've been having this onslaught of memories is anyone's guess. Most of them, I haven't considered in years. And I mean more than a decade. The only thing I can think is that it's a cleansing. I hope that is what it is because otherwise I probably need some help. 

Cleansing happens, well, in my opinion. That's when things just pop up and you're forced to deal with them. As Christians, we're taught to get any negative emotions out of our life, and that means out of our heart. That's where we carry the garbage. If any exist. If you pray about this, the first thing you're going to notice is that stuff surfaces you didn't expect. Memories of events you forgot about. Feelings you didn't know you had about a person. Attitudes that you thought you'd conquered. 

Laugh if you want, but it's true. 

Start praying over any potential anger issues you may harbor. I'd say in a week, you will have lost your temper over so many things you won't know what hit you. Everything will annoy you, frustrate you, and irritate you like sandpaper. You will have to deal with every level of anger you are carrying. Mild irritation, mid-level annoyance, and vicious anger. Keep notes so you can track it.

Try lust. If you have a problem with that and start praying for it to be removed, you're going to get hit with the biggest, most disgusting things you can imagine. 

Keep in mind that every bit of that stuff is inside you. It's like a boil erupting and spilling out poison. That's what you want it to do. Don't stuff it back down; deal with it. Because pushing it back only makes it worse. 

I think that's what's happening to me. I've been hit with so many things in the last 6 months I can't keep up. Painful stuff that I can't forget or solve. All tied to who I am. 

What's that even about? 

And that anger? Yeah, it's at radioactive levels. At so many people, situations, and events. There's a ton. Sometimes I'm fine, but other times it boils over, and if I were a really nasty person, I would have slayed a dozen folks with my tongue by now. And some of them are already dead. 

I'm a mess and can't get it under control. 

To top it off, I keep running into to people who make it worse. Really nice pieces of work that make me want to bite nails. Or punch them in the nose... no... take a board to them. 

How long can this last? 

I'll let you know. 

Memories

 Today a memory came back I hadn't thought of much in 40 years. In fact, the event happened when I was 16, just before I turned 17. I don't think I've mentioned it but once in 53 years. 

I used to sing with three other girls in my church. One of those was the piano player. I was the oldest. I wouldn't call us great friends, but we were church friends. Meaning we got along well enough to sing together. Our church was a small town church of about 60 people and mosts of them were over 50. So our experience didn't matter, but we did all right for teenagers. We weren't the Lennon sisters. And if you don't know who that is, you can look it up. 

Vicky, our piano player, was the youngest at about 13. She played for the whole service, so she was adequate. She played by ear and was pretty good for her age. Diane and her sister, the other Vicky, were close to my age but still younger by a couple of years. Then there was me. I don't know how it started, but we were a "group" and became popular at church. Well, the older ladies loved us. 

One day in 1972 or 73, a young man showed up at our church. Johnnie was his name. He was in his early 20s, but we noticed he could sing well. And he could sing harmony. So, Johnnie began to sing with us. We liked it. We liked him. Everyone liked him. 

Look, it was a small town church with very few men at all. There were no young couples. Most of the youth came with grandparents, and there were fewer than a dozen of us. I dated the only two boys in the church. One I won't mention, he was the first. The second was Johnnie. 

Yes. He was older than me. But my mama trusted church boys. Everyone liked Johnnie, and he was faithful. So, I could go skating with him. 

Let me be clear here. At no point did I or any of the other girls think of Johnnie as anything other than a friend. He was too old for us. He wasn't very attractive. And he had poor dental hygiene. Had Johnnie attempted to kiss me, I'd have puked on him. 

We went skating on a Friday night. I rarely got to go out because, well, no boyfriend. I was a Pentecostal girl in a town of about 10,000. It wasn't likely to happen. It eventually did, but that's another story already posted here somewhere.  

But we went out. I was nervous because I didn't know why he'd asked me. I was concerned that he was thinking of me as more than a church friend. Still, we had a good time, and I was relieved when we got home.

He missed church that Sunday, but we weren't worried. The next Sunday I asked one girl if they had heard from Johnnie. One of them had, in fact, heard from him. 

Brace yourself. 

Johnnie got married the previous weekend. The same weekend he was out skating with me. 

I laughed when they told me and told them about the date. No one could believe it, but they knew me. We knew next to nothing of him. We didn't even know he had an actual girlfriend. He'd never told anyone, nor had he brought her to church. 

Why am I telling this? 

I do not know. 

Why did I remember it? I think there is a reason, but I'm not sure. Sometimes I know things, but from the back door, not the front. Meaning, I won't get it until it reveals itself as true. 

Is that mysterious enough for you?

Thought so.

At any rate, today when that memory came up, so did the word "placeholder".  I understood that. Johnnie couldn't go out with the girlfriend on Friday because they were getting married. But he had a friend he could do something with that weekend. Me. We were friends. We attended the same church and talked, and I wasn't interested in him any other way. But I became something a bit more important that weekend. A placeholder. 

And just like that, 50+ years later, I got angry about it. No one deserves that kind of treatment. Had he asked my mama if he could come over and hang out and told us why, she would have friend chicken for him. To be used for entertainment until you get what you want is not a nice thing. 

My mama liked him. Everyone liked Johnnie. Until they didn't. 

He came back to church a year later with his wife and child. I didn't speak to him. I don't know who did. 

Years later, 1980 to be exact, I met someone in N. Carolina who knew Johnnie. What are the odds? 

They were a military family from Alaska, and we were all stationed at Ft. Bragg. Her dad was a pastor in Alaska. Johnnie had been a member of the church in Alaska with his wife and kids. And Johnnie had messed up badly. Johnnie was in prison for rape. 

I was surprised. But I don't know if I should have been. I was just glad my mama was already gone and never knew. Mama would have been so disappointed. 

Today, I think I received a memory that reminds me not to assume everyone is good. My personality is such that I am open, getting closer than I should. Because of that, I can stray into areas I shouldn't and end up with bruises. 

That memory. It was painful in a way today it never was before. 

Rundown of the Weekend

 The leg is better. Have I told you about the leg? 

My lower back (SI joint) has flared up. I overdid it at the gym one week and walked the next week. Felt good at the time, but I did too much. Results were an inflamed SI joint and bursitis in my left leg, flaring all the way to my knee.

They started PT last Friday. It helped a great deal. For a couple of days, the pain was so much better. It came back, but not as bad. Today I'm wearing my diclofenac patch. That actually seems to help the most, but I have trouble keeping it on my back. It isn't glue but a kind of foamy, sticky substance that thins over 12 hours. Hits the pain hard, and I feel good if it stays where I put it. But it slides around. 

I will have PT twice a week for about six weeks. They used a TENS unit, and that was amazing. 

Writing has kind of stopped with this latest pain but I think tonight I'll start back up. Or tomorrow if I am too tired. 

I'm not sleeping well most nights. Either too worried, too upset, or too excited. My brain just doesn't shut off. One night I spent all night writing in my sleep! It wasn't a deep sleep, and I kept waking up. I considered getting up and writing. But I was so tired. 

I think I am going to plan a trip home. I need to go. And it would get me out of my head for a bit. Mike goes to Indy for an appointment with the neurosurgeon to get his brain disease checked for treatment. We know there's only one treatment at this point. But we need to know his status. Maybe when I get back, I can head home. 

Planning on getting rid of at least one cat. I simply can't cope with three anymore. Also, I may get rid of the second one. I love her, but again, I'm at my limit. And I want to get away more. Of course, Jet is not going anywhere. I think he's too attached and wouldn't do well if he were re-homed. Besides, I talk to him a lot. I actually talk to them all. And they try to answer back. 

Reading four books at the moment. I haven't done that in a while. Mostly because I had been reading a book a day since November. Once I began writing, I couldn't read a book a day. It took three days. So, I finished one yesterday and began two today. There are two others I was already reading. And yes, I can keep up with them. 

For now, I'm headed to the shower. 

Life in My Own World

 What do you do when your world constricts to a period? 

Yesterday, I realized that is what my world has done. While working on my novel, I realized I don't live in the real world anymore. I'm in the Matrix. I didn't even watch those movies. I've seen bits and pieces but never the whole movie. I'm living there! 

My family is for the most part all dead. Well, I am 69. Parents, grandparents, and a sibling dead. Siblings left are either in jail or far away. My sons have their own lives, and my only grandchild remembers me about twice a month and either texts or calls for a few minutes. I go to church, have items delivered, get my reading online, and talk to my cats. Doesn't that sound like a place you want to live?

The only world I experience now is fictional, and I created it. I meet good and evil people. The evil people are worse than any I ever met in the real world, but I can kill them off. The good people are also no reflection of the real world. There is no real affection, but there isn't much in the real world either. 

I made a comment after Jerry died that 6 weeks after the funeral everyone forgets you're alive. No one has proven that wrong. He's been dead 17 years and I've sat right here, buried. It has taken me this long to realize what happened. Well, I was kind of traumatized watching someone die that way. But yeah.

Yesterday I decided that I'm going to live in this fictional world. I'm tired of trying to fit in the real world or find kindred spirits or a new life. But there is a dark, empty depth you can sink where there is no way out.

I'm too tired to mess with it.

So, it's less stress and less work to sit down and open a portal to a fictional world where everyone knows you. They rely on you for their existence. If I must be a spectator, I might as well make myself comfortable in a place I like. The alternative is much darker and emptier.