Who Am I? What Drives You Crazy? Ignorance, Selfishness, Rudeness

Who am I?
Today I am going to be the person who tells the world what my pet peeves are and what just completely sends me to the moon.

Okay, how do I figure out what is the greatest pet peeve of mine?
I guess I will just start with something. The Internet. Not the use of the web.
The cost of service is outrageous. Everything about the world seems to be connected or only accessible through the internet. We are all in need of internet connections, but getting connected is not just as easy as it sounds.
Some locations are not offered any service at all and some that service is so expensive it is out of the question.

Now, I want to move on to the matter of insurance. We are all required to have auto insurance (if you own a car) and health insurance. Both of those instances are penalized by fines if you do not have them. Okay, that is just a fact. My peeve is the fact that the insurance industry is one of the only things not regulated by the federal government. Well, just how is that right? They make us have them, but they do not control the amount that the companies are allowed to charge.

And then we have Obamacare, which was supposed to help Americans with their health insurance needs. It is just a joke. I know more people who have suffered from their health insurance needs since that went into effect. We have the wonderful, note my hostile attitude. Anyway, there is the Marketplace that is supposed to assist people in getting insured. If you go to the site, you will fill out a questionnaire to help determine if you get any aid in paying the price.

The cost of the insurance ranges in the hundreds of dollars, and if you are lucky, you can get help to pay some of that. But if you do not get insurance you are fined. Okay, the ones penalized are the same people who are having trouble just putting food on the table to feed their families. How is that fair? How is that helping the American Public?

On with the things that bother me. Up and down of the price of gasoline. We hear every year about the rising cost of crude oil, but then the remarkable price goes down. Then out of nowhere, it goes back up.

In my mind, I feel controlled. When things get atrocious, and the public complains about the state of stuff, then suddenly something like a drastic drop in gas happens. Then just as we get used to having a spare dollar or two, BAM they go up again, and we are right back where we started.

Money. How sad that it has reached such a controlling factor in the world.


I will end this mini rant with talking about helping people. Okay, first I am all for helping those in need. I love to do anything I can to help others and don't get me wrong I have been in the position to need help at times in my life.

But why is so much help going so far away? Why can't we help our neighbors before we go to other countries to aid the people? I know they need contribute too, but look around I guarantee you will see someone in arms reach that is in extreme need. So quite stepping over the poor at your feet to get on the planes to go overseas to aid foreign countries.

I do not see it as a beautiful thing when you fly far away to feed the hungry or build homes. Not when you have just walked by hungry, needy, and desperate people to do it. Help here first.

My Mother in law was a prime example of the ignorant who didn't help anyone here. She said the only reason any Americans were hungry or doing without was that they were lazy or drug addicts.

How ignorant that statement was, how ignorant of the way things are. I will admit though that I often wondered as a young woman why people did without. Then, karma slapped me in the face with reality. The reality that every one of us, everyone who has all they need and are sitting in a lovely home, everyone is just one paycheck away from being in a cardboard box.

It is not easy when you find you are homeless. When you realize that there is no help, no one to make sure your children are fed, no one to make sure things are okay.

Our lives were on the top of the mountain when Lynn got hurt. Then before we knew it we were without a home, without food, and unable to get any help (all because the insurance company said they were paying us, even though they were not).

Rude people are also another thing that irritates me to no end. But it seems no matter where you go, there they are.

What are your worst pet peeves? What drives you crazy?

Who am I? We're All Mad Here So Let's Try To Just Live, Love, and Most Importantly LAUGH!!!

 Hello, my name is Terry. Friends call me Red. Some call me other things, but that is an entirely different story. LOL

Who am I? It was a simpler time, a quieter time, the Ozarks in 1962. A small town and a small house. No one minded, no one remembered the little black and white tv or only having two channels. At least, we had Captain Kangaroo and Aunt Norma. It was where my story began.

When I was born, I was so tiny that Daddy held me in the palm of his hand. I will always remember his hands. They were so big and vigorous. I would sit for hours holding his thumb, just rubbing the nail because it made me feel safe.

One of the funniest things is that I have no idea what my phone number is today, but the one from this period in my life I will never forget. 256-2318. It might as well be Jenny's number.

                                                                       
Recently, I have been asked a few times if I was okay. People have accused me of being mad at the world and other things. When my truth, actually is a far different thing.
I suffer from Bipolar Disorder, severe panic disorder, fibromyalgia, chronic pain, just to name a couple. My point is that there are times I can slip into a deep dark depression.
Why you may be asking? Well, depression is something that just happens, there is often no reason whatsoever. It is just a fact. Does that make me angry at the world? NO NO NO!!!
Where should I begin today's thoughts? Probably with the basic Who am I?

I am so not an angry person. I love to laugh, not just a little giggle, but I love to laugh so hard it makes me snort. Which in turn makes me laugh harder.
If things don't go right during a shopping trip, that brings out my laughter more of a defense mechanism than humor. I laugh, if someone jumps in front of me in a line, I laugh, and it isn't fake laughter. I truly mean it.
Those people who fight, fuss and cuss over such trivial things just make me sad. Because if they could only learn the valuable lesson: If that is the worst thing to happen to them in a day, wow then life is good. Karma has a way of sneaking up and biting you in the butt whenever you think things can't get worse.


So as people see me talk about depression, Bipolar Disorder, Panic attacks, darkness, feelings of being alone, sadness, and all the other aspects of dealing with this mental illness. This disease is nothing I can just stop doing, I get sad for absolutely no reason, crying about EVERYTHING seriously about everything, and when I get mad... well it would be best if I didn't get upset.

There are still those who just want me to get over it and stop being angry or depression or whatever I might be at the time. To those uninformed and at times ignorant people, I will try to explain. For me, this illness is as if I am hanging off a cliff by the very tips of my fingertips.




And that grip is what helps me more than anything. As long as I know that my grip could give way on this slippery slope of sanity and reality, then I am okay. I hold on tighter and keep reminding myself that it is all a gift. Then I am fine, and the world moves on for me. Does that make me angry? No. Does it make me sad? No.
It empowers me. I am in control, and I despise being out of control.





My life is great. I love my family. I love life. I am emotional, I am opinionated, fear being around people, but I am not afraid, I no longer worry about not sleeping, I just live, I stay busy, and I just allow my emotions and moods to be what they are. I cope, and I turn all the moods into creativity. From my art to my writing I allow all of it to flow wherever it wishes to go.

Self portrait of my eye. Maybe the eye to my soul, who knows.

Live, Love, Laugh and then Laugh some more. Because there will always be more tears for all the people, who suffer Bipolar Disorder, depression, and the countless other mental problems.

Who am I? Where do I belong? Do I belong? Longing for Family

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Who am I? So many things go through my thought with that simple question. I wonder, who am I honestly?

When I lost both of my parents, I lost touch with any extended family. Lynn's family was never really there for us. He was the only child of his parent's marriage while they each had multiple children. His
siblings from them were never really his brothers and sisters. To them, he was merely in the way of getting money, money they felt was theirs. But whatever, money is just nothing in the scheme of things.

                                                          

For me, I never really felt like I belonged to my mom's family because she wasn't full blood to all of her brothers and sisters either. She had one full blood brother, and I felt a connection to them, but not a real lasting strong one. The others always made me feel like I wasn't part of them.

Did they do it intentionally, I can't say. Because I honestly don't feel like I am a part of 'their' family. Only Mama's family knew. But the feelings were there for me and with Mama went none of them seemed to notice I wasn't there anymore.

So now I stood looking at the world wondering who both Mama and Daddy's blood family was, and I wanted to know. My journey to know as much as possible began.

It was not easy. I had not much to go on. A few names but they didn't lead me to much knowledge. Then I remembered trips as a child and where we would spend the night. Still, all I had was names, but with the power of the internet, I searched.

When I found Uncle Alvie, it led me to his widow where I truly began to feel like I had a family.Soon I found out I had a cousin who starred on Punky Brewster. It was a real treat to learn about my blood family. Sadly before I could hear very much, my widowed Aunt Lydia passed away.

Life has its little ups and downs, its twists and turns. I feel more connected to this planet after my journey began. Let's see where it takes me.

The Ultimate Question: Who Am I? Why Have I Always Felt So Lost?

Who am I? What do I believe in?

 I guess the first thing I would say I believe in, would be my little family, my faith, and my belief in myself.

That is kind of funny, not the family and faith part of it. But the belief in myself. It has not been that many years at all that I have had any faith in me as a person. I was convinced that I was not smart enough, nice enough, good enough, or well anything enough. Now I have moved past an epiphany to see that I am all right.

It was not an easy journey to get to this point. I had a very hard uphill battle to gain some self-appreciation and self-worth.

 My self-esteem is still lacking, at the drop of a hat I can wither back into the person who felt unworthy. Everyone always asks me why I feel this way and it is just the way I have felt since I was tiny..

I am sure a lot of it stems from my BiPolar Disorder, but I just never felt like I belonged anywhere. I never felt like anyone would miss me if I disappeared. And from an early age, I have spent hours wondering why I was here on this Earth. Then an angel came into my life. An angel that told me I was his whole world. An angel that made me feel special.

And I married that angel. My journey to having any feelings of self-worth was not immediate, even though he tried for yeats to get me to see myself through his eyes. It was a lot of years and a lot of pain until I could finally look into a mirror. Look into a mirror. I had spent my life cherishing one particular mirror. This particular mirror that I saw when I was four years old, as my Mama was preparing for a Stanley Party. The hostess set out a mirror, and my heart fell in love. The catch was you had to sell 15 cases

of bubble bath to win it. Well as you can imagine my Dad bought 15 cases of bubble bath. We were swimming in bubbles for a very long time.

My mirror and the little face of my miracle. Cole, I love you so much, where have the years gone?

Even though I have cherished that mirror for 50 years, I had a phobia about looking into any mirror. I always felt like I was just too awful to look at my reflection and it kept me from using mirrors for my childhood. Now I can look in the mirror to fix my hair. And I seriously doubt anyone other than my husband even knew that.

Now I am a person who has interviewed celebrities, medical patients, worked with Senators and talked to Tribal elders. Sure I still throw up repeatedly before any of that, and I hyperventilate to the point I have passed out. But I have done it. Don't get me wrong there are days I can not even talk to my family, let alone sit down with someone so iconic as Tommy Chong.

Spending time with Tommy during the interview was a dream come true for an Ozarks kid who grew up with the iconic world of Cheech and Chong.

In one of my many interviews with musicians, I have to admit that this young man was one of my favorites. Yukmouth was a blast to talk, with his charm and charisma even I was at ease. From the moment, he pulled his grill out of his mouth and said "I got pretty teeth" I was hooked. He is a remarkable young man.

My uphill battle to learn to like myself has been an intricate highway of emotions that has brought me to tears and taken me to the highest mountains. I like me, I like the person I am, and I feel like I matter.
From the patients I have helped in their struggles to get medicine, to the strangers I have encountered in my life, I finally feel good about who I am.

So now as I ask Who am I? The answer is a long one. I am a wife, mother, nana, puppy grandma, friend, activist, author, artist, and a real person.

I know there will always be those who disagree. But for the first time in my life I know that's okay.


Because:

Haters gonna hate.

The Worst Mother's Day Gifts:

Who am  I? Again here I a woman of many hats. I stand tall as a mom and wife before anything else in life. But then the different hats begin to come out.

I am a published author; I am a copywriter.  I am an artist and illustrator. I am an editor. I am a seamstress; I am opinionated, I am vocal, I am puppy sitter, I am a movie fanatic, I am a sci-fi nut, I am a redhead, I am moody, I am a crier, I am a BiPolar. Most importantly, though, I am ME, I am who I want to be right now, and I am happy.

With the Mother's Day on top of us, I began to wonder about what gifts the world is giving their mothers. It hasn't been that many years that I started celebrating this beautiful day again after my own Mama passed during the Mother's Day event. So now as I am again among those who look to this day, I wonder....gifts?

Personally, I have been given some of the most beautiful things by my family that I have never experienced one of those OMG moments of receiving a gift. I have a precious jewelry and flowers along with other items.
So now I wonder what terribly inappropriate gifts given to other Mothers.

How about the family who sprung a trampoline on Mom? Okay, so as they were bouncing around she could sit back and admire her gift.

Or the ever popular breakfast in bed. But then Mom gets out of bed and cleans the kitchen. Maybe not such a great gift.

I have heard of so many awful gifts given to Moms around the world, that go far beyond the flowers or candy. But the worst gift of all those terrible gifts is the gift that all Mothers everywhere are devastated to receive. This present is the gift that will last a lifetime in pain.

That is the gift of forgetting. The gift of not caring. That gift is the worse thing a Mother could ever receive.

No matter what the circumstances. No matter what is going on in your life. Remember your Mom, remember the woman who loves you no matter what you do, the woman who stands up for you when others don't and remember the woman who gave you life.
Because without our Mothers, none of us would be here.

Mama, I love you.

Mother's Day To All Who Had To Say GoodBye To Their Mamas

I am a mother, I am a wife, but was a daughter before I was either of those.
No matter how old you get or what happens in your life, there are days you just want your Mom.
Mother's Day was hard for me for so many years after I spent that Mother's Day in 1997 when we laid you to rest the day before.
That was a day that will haunt me forever as I said goodbye to you while everyone around me celebrated their moms. I will not forget the hole in my heart that losing you left.

 For Mama, I will miss you every day for the rest of my life. I still go the phone and think of calling you. I still long to ask you a question or advice and I will always want to tell you things that happen in my daily life.
I will cry tears that you are not here to for Cole to know and that he will never know just how silly you were and how much fun. I cry that I feel so alone without you at times. I cry that the flowers are blooming, and you aren't here to see them. My tears had never dried from the moment in the hospital when I had to say goodbye. Those tears have remained a part of me every day since.

It has been years since I heard your voice but the sound remains strong in my memory. It has been years since we laughed and since you placed your loving arms around me. Those years seem long on days, and then there are moments when the pain is still as fresh as a cut.

Sure as mothers and daughters do we didn't get along all the time, we had our differences.We had our problems, but we also had that connection. I never went a day of my life while you were here on this earth to call you. I called no matter where I was at, no matter if we were having a disagreement. I never spent a New Year's Eve that I didn't call you, waking both you and Daddy most of the time. I just had to say I love you.

So as the days and years tick away I will finish my days with Goodnight Mama; I love you and sweet dreams.

Every time it rains I feel the teardrops from Heaven as they wash on my face, and I know you are there looking down with love.

Hello I Am Hank Hill's Daughter

Who am I? One of the first things that come to mind is, "Well I'll tell you what." the classic line of Hank from King of the Hill. Well, I am Hank Hill's daughter. You might wonder what on earth would make me say that. Well, I began watching King of the Hill a long time ago, and the whole time I kept thinking this is familiar.

Then, it hit me. My dad was Hank, a propane and propane accessory salesperson; he worked as the manager for Empire Gas. But the story doesn't end there. Bob owned Empire, in my opinion, Bob, was Mr. Strickland to a tee.

All of those things made me watch even closer. Sure Hank is not a replica of Daddy. But he is a great imitation.

My family informed me immediately that I had ruined King of the Hill for them with all my talk of Hank being Daddy and well Peggy is my Mama. So I guess that puts Larry as Bobby, and I have no idea about me. But, you can, believe me, I am not LouAnn.

Watching the show, I have seen so many things that occurred in my life as a child of that propane and propane accessory salesperson, which makes me feel like the main character in The Truman Show. Poor Jim Carrey had no idea that everyone knew everything, and he was just a pawn in the entire scheme.

So here's to Hank Hill, Daddy I love you.