Prepare for the worst. Hope for the best. Know that God has your back through it all.

This past week has been one where I have been given the opportunity to use the patience and strength that I have prayed for many times in my life. If it wasn’t for a wise friend of mine that taught me how to change my prayers to avoid the difficulties I seemed to always be facing, I would still be wondering why things seemed to be so hard. I’m not saying that there are no difficulties in my life. I’m simply saying that I listened and applied the advice I was given to stop praying for patience, instead, pray for wisdom to understand.

Pray for wisdom in all things is what I prayed for and the prayer has been answered. To understand that my prayer was answered took me a while, but I did finally see that the difficulties never stopped but how I approached and looked at the difficulties changed. I became wise to the situations I found myself in and was able to figure out that the same things I seemed to always be fighting against were created because I hadn’t figured out how to not put myself in the position in the first place. I still work on this today and I’ll probably be working on it until the day I die. Lynn, thank you for guiding me in so many things that you probably don’t realize what you’ve done for me.

Since we moved to Texas and were assigned to our doctors I have had many opportunities to get to know my physician personally. That isn’t to say that I see him in social settings, but I know him personally through his profession. He is an amazing physician with the most personable manner. He is soft spoken and is not afraid to say that he doesn’t know the answer to something when he encounters an issue that he has not dealt with. Usually, by the time we’re done, he has been able to add a new problem to the list of things he has encountered and that he was able to find an answer by doing some research and talking to other physicians. Trust me, him and I have dealt with many, many things that he has never encountered…until taking me on as a patient.

This past Wednesday, I made an appointment to talk to him about some medications that I am currently on, the side effects I have noticed and to just mention in passing about some pain I have experienced. I also made an appointment for him to see my daughter and discuss some issues she is having and to see if we could start a particular course of treatment. Everything went well until I talked to him about the pain. Not that the pain wasn’t something I could deal with, but the location concerned him because it was in my right breast. Apparently, one should not have pain in their breast unless there is a reason for it medically, i.e. surgery, injury, etc. He said we needed to do a breast exam and I agreed albeit grudgingly. The exam was unremarkable minus some fibrous tissue he could palpate (feel) which is expected to occur as we age. At the completion of the exam he said he would also send me for a screening mammogram just as a precaution. Before I left the office the mammogram was scheduled for Friday and away we went.

Friday morning comes and I arrive at the hospital for the screening, get checked in and start reading the book I brought with me. I know that since I am at the hospital, regardless of the fact that I have an appointment time, things sometime happen that can cause a delay. The technician comes to get me and take me to the diagnostic area where I fill out the paperwork they require from me. I do as I’m instructed and she begins taking the pictures she needs. After the pictures are done, she checks the images and excuses herself from the room. When she returns I’m told that the doctor viewing the images wants new images taken. We finish those and she excuses herself from the room once more. This time when she returns she says that we’re going to take two more pictures that will give the doctor a closer shot to look at. She leaves one last time and this time when she comes back I’m told that I’ll be going to ultrasound and that the doctor wants to speak to me before leaving.

I was a little concerned, but since I’ve not done this before, I just assumed that this was part of the screening process. Take images and get an ultrasound for future references so they have a base knowledge of what my normal is. I meet the ultrasound technician who proceeds to say to me, “We’re going to get a closer look at the spot the doctor saw on the mammography images.”

Hold on…back up a moment…this isn’t a normal procedure then?! I had a minor freak out moment, but calmed myself down by saying that they are only looking at this closer. It’s probably nothing and yes, this is normal if they see something on the images. Then this technician leaves the room to go speak with the doctor. Upon her return, the lovely doctor is with her, and she confirms that the area found on the ultrasound is the same area on the images from the mammogram. When the technician leaves the room this time, the doctor remains and says she needs to speak to me.

So, here I am. I’m cold, I’m wearing a gown that opens in the front so they can get access to the areas they need, I feel like I’ve been violated and now there is something the physician needs to talk to me about. She did allow me to put my shirt on over the gown so that I felt somewhat prepared to interact with her. I’m told that they saw something on the mammogram and the ultrasound confirmed that it is a mass. She explains about the biopsy procedure they need to do and wants my permission to proceed. Knowing that my husband would have a royal fit if I deny, and really, I need to know what this is as well, I give my permission to do the biopsy. They performed an ultrasound guided biopsy and took three samples to send to the lab. I checked the little box that said I didn’t care if it was a janitor that called me with the results, I wanted to know via phone as soon as they get the report from the lab. I do not want to go in and talk to someone. I want a phone call. I don’t even care if the report comes through at midnight, I want someone to call me immediately. I’m given discharge instructions to not lift, push, pull, tug or drag for 72 hours and then I go home.

Home is where I am now. I have spent the last 48 hours praying, crying, laughing and preparing for worst case scenario while hoping for best case. I made a phone call to my husband who is overseas. Actually, I called him before they did the biopsy to let him know what was going on. I was alone and I needed to hear his voice to just settle my nerves somewhat. I called my two best friends and told them what had happened. 24 hours later, I posted on social media and my friends rallied. It gave me such great hope to know that I didn’t even have results and my friends were manning battle stations. The hospital staff gave me a magazine that had a ton of information on head wraps, hats, wigs, breast prosthetics, etc. I left it there because if I brought it home it makes things real and I don’t want to deal with real unless I have to.

So, for today…I am alive. I am well. I know that God is preparing me for something in my life. I also know that God will be with me through it all, whatever the all ends up being. For now, I smile and accept life for what it is and what it is not. 

Love, sadness and being grateful

Life is a journey that can be long or short, it’s about the perspective you have about it. Sometimes, people don’t live as long as what we would like them to and we lament their passing. Usually, after some time has passed, we are able to look back on the time that we were blessed to spend with them and in those moments of reflection, we sometimes see that their time here on this earth was only short to us. At least in the reflections I have done recently, that is the case. Today, my emotions are fraught with sadness, gratefulness and love. So, I figured this was probably a good time for me to sit down and put some things to paper that probably should have been done a long time ago.

My life today is a blessed one. I am blessed with amazing friends that are scattered all across the globe. I have one child with some special needs, that is an adult now, and who has far exceeded any of my expectations. She doesn’t talk to me and has made it clear that she wants nothing to do with me. There is a lot more behind the scenes stuff, but I feel angry, bitter, sad and happy where she is concerned. My hope is that one day we can at least be on speaking terms. For now, it is what it is. My youngest daughter has her own issues, but she is a great kid. She wears her heart on her sleeve and is super quick to jump to a defensive position for others that are being treated unfairly or unjust. I have two stepdaughters who have been raised in a way that is FAR different than I have raised my own. They’ll have hard lessons to learn and our hope is that one day, they’ll see the truth and see how things really are compared to how they’ve been told they are. We’ve seen one make that turn after having to learn an extremely hard lesson. Our other hope is that the other one won’t have to walk the same sort of path to learn the truth. The only wish that we have for each of them, regardless whether we talk to them regularly or not, is that they all have happiness, success and love in their lives. I think that is the primary goal most parents have.

I’ve discussed previously about the abuses I have suffered and survived. Survived is the key word. It took me a great many years and many hard lessons learned to show me that my happiness is for me to find and it should not hinge upon another living being. I learned and applied that to my life shortly before I met Pat. People have asked how we met and I make no secret that it started with a conversation online. We were friends long before we began “dating”. Although our kids had us labeled way before we ever got to that point. I think that’s one of the reasons we work so well together. We have a firm foundation that we built our lives together on. I miss him every day, even on the days when he is stateside and just at the office. I’ve commented before that I don’t necessarily need him in my life, but I choose each morning that I wake up to want him in my life. And every day, I love him more than I did the day before. I’m so blessed to have a partner that understands how relationships should be and he works with me to nurture and cultivate what we have. Because it wasn’t always so for either of us.

We both have previous spouses (spousi?) and both of our prior marriages ended on a sour note (and I’m being nice). Arguments were more common than laughter. There was a lot of alone time. Our children witnessed things that they shouldn’t have. Life was not fun and it was not happy. The only bright spot we had were our children. We’ve both decided that it does neither of us any good to speak ill of our former spouses. All it serves is to allow them rent free space in our heads, which gives them control over our lives. So we kicked them out. Oh, sure…I could go on for days on end about the atrocities perpetuated by the other parties…I could, but I am choosing not to. The experiences that we had with our previous marriages set the stage for what we wouldn’t tolerate in the future. For those reasons, I can sit here and say that I can only think of 3 arguments that we’ve ever had. Even now when I think about those times, I wouldn’t undo any of them, because we learned something and then formed a plan on how we would move forward and prevent it in the future. So, even though we have both been divorced, I can’t say that the lessons we took away from the experience has caused us to become bitter about relationships. Cautious? Oh, yes…absolutely!

For me, the other life experience that forced me to learn a hard lesson, was the death of my fiancé, James. I was extremely protective of the girls after my divorce from their father and it was with a large amount of trepidation that I finally introduced James to them. It was a hit from the moment they all met. He was putty in their little hands and he would have killed for them. It made it a lot easier for me to let my walls down to see the unabashed love they all had for each other. My youngest would call him Queen Daddy James…because momma was a queen and she was a princess, so since she was surrounded by women…she didn’t know there was a King to speak of…so I was Queen momma and he was Queen daddy. It made sense in the eyes of a 3 year old. He moved us in with him and while the quarters were tight, we were all together and that is what mattered. That was in February 2003. James taught us how to love life again after something bad happens. We would laugh and play as a family. He taught me how to ride a motorcycle and then we would ride as a family. Life was pretty close to perfect.

Then life happened.

I had left the town we lived in on Saturday morning heading to my hometown to pick up some items. About a half hour after dropping James off to pick up the motorcycle, I had to pull off the road and get sick. I felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer and slammed it straight down on the top of my skull. I got sick to my stomach, but finished the drive down. I hadn’t been in my hometown for 3 hours when the uneasiness and the feeling that something was wrong finally reached a point that I couldn’t ignore any longer, so I left. I kept calling his cell phone, but it was going straight to voice mail. I didn’t think anything of it, that’s why he took the bike out, he was heading to the cell provider to find out why his phone wasn’t working right. His mom and sister were out of town as well, so I knew I wouldn’t get them either. When I arrived at our house, I found a note written hastily on the back of a receipt that said, “Dee, James was in a motorcycle accident. He’s at University of Louisville hospital.” I had to read that three times before it hit me exactly what it said. I swapped vehicles and got to where he was. When I walked in, his sister ran up to me and said that he’d been asking for me since he got there. The nurse came and got me and took me to the room he was in in their emergency department. My knees almost buckled when I saw him. He had a 19 cm laceration on his scalp, his wrist was shattered and he had broken his back. He was wearing his helmet when the driver hit him almost head on and the impact was so great that it broke the strap which then exposed his head. He was hit at 8:30 that morning…approximately 30 minutes after I dropped him off to get the bike…the same time that I felt like someone had hit me in the head with a sledgehammer and I had to pull off the road to get sick. Coincidence? I don’t believe in them. He underwent surgery to repair his wrist and was then taken to ICU. He talked for three days and then slipped into a coma. James died on 4 September 2003, 20 days after the accident.

I’m told that I helped plan the funeral. I’m told I rode his other motorcycle with his club to the funeral home. I’m told that I interacted and spoke with people. I’m told a lot of things about that time. I remember things being fuzzy. Like life had all of a sudden just became nothing but white noise. I was on auto-pilot. What I do remember is holding his hand when he took his last breath, I remember watching his heart rate drop to 20 and then 0, I remember feeling his soul leave his body and it was hauntingly beautiful. I remember being led out of the room when they started CPR, I remember watching their efforts and it being all for naught. I remember hearing all the blood rushing through my ears and turning to walk out to the lobby where I could see my mom standing. I remember making it halfway past the elevators and my world crashing down upon my shoulders, my legs buckled and I fell to my knees crying. I was so empty, so numb. It felt like the universe had just kicked me as hard as it could in my gut and while I was bent over gasping, it reached in and pulled everything inside of me out, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. My mother says she held me and rocked me. I don’t know. I don’t remember. I know I drove home, but I can’t tell you how I got there.

14 months later, I met Pat and we became friends. I had a tattoo of James on my arm and I would rely upon people’s reaction to it to show me if we were going to be friends, enemies or acquaintances. I knew that things with Pat were progressing after about 18 months when he held my arm one day and just ran his hand over his tattoo. I remember asking him what he was doing and saying that some people had said the tattoo intimidated them in a way. It was what Pat said then, that I said to myself “I’m going to marry him one day.” Pat stood and said quietly, “It doesn’t frighten or intimidate me. It gives me hope. Hope that a person can love again even after a sudden and severe loss and the pain associated with it.” We married three years later after his return from Afghanistan. I knew then that I could make the relationship work even in his absence, because I had survived having to bury one, knowing that I would never again see them. The deployment is almost easy after something like that.

It’s been 10 years since I lost James and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t still think of him. I also thank him, in a strange way, because I know that if it wasn’t for him that I would never have met Pat.

It’s strange how life happens sometimes. I still mourn for James, but I’ve let him go because it wasn’t fair to myself to hold onto him in death. I learned that I can continue moving forward after such a loss. I learned that laughter may not heal the wound, but it takes your mind off of things. I learned that friends turn into family when you need them the most. I learned exactly what I was made of. I learned how to love, lose, and love again. I learned that I was never alone, even when I felt so very alone.

Life is about love and happiness. It’s about learning who you are and what you stand for. It’s about taking the wisdom that you have learned and passing it along. It’s about supporting others and being the best you that you can be. Don’t be content to sit on the sidelines and watch the game. Get into it and live your life to the fullest, every single day. Because you don’t want regrets when the day comes that you take your last breath. You may be old or you may be young, either way there are going to be people that lament your passing and say, “They left too young.”

Give, and you shall receive.

I read an article this morning that discussed “Pending coffee”. A person in Washington, D.C., witnessed two police officers and three attorneys purchase five and seven coffees respectively. The police officers took their two and the attorney’s their three and the others were pending coffee. A short while later, an elderly, underprivileged (in this case it means poor) gentleman walk in and ask the cashier if they had any pending coffee available. She gave him a cup of coffee. To this gentleman it was free, but it had been paid for in advance. In this respect, it’s very much like Jesus and his sacrifice on the cross paying for our sins, all we need to do is ask him into our hearts and accept something freely. Do you see the connection I am making? They paid for the coffee and a person asked if there was any and he received it, free.

Now, I know that people are going to say something about this being nowhere near the same thing. But, isn’t it? In both cases, a person paid something for us and we simply need to ask to receive. Remember, I said this was very much like what Jesus did for us. It’s all a matter of interpretation and this is open for it. This is my interpretation of the situation.

I also read comments from people ridiculing the police officers and attorneys for their act of kindness. Comments degrading, even further, the plight of this man. Harsh words spoken about people they do not know. I want to say thank you to the people that purchase “pending coffee” for their small act of kindness. I also want to thank that gentleman for asking if there was a pending coffee for him to have. It allowed a person to witness and speak about what they saw. See, the further I go with this, the more it becomes blatantly obvious to me about the similarities between this act and our Lord and Savior’s crucifixion. Acts of kindness and people witnessing about what they saw and a person(s) being ridiculed.

Thankfully, the negative comments were few and the words of praise many. To read other comments addressing the negative and explaining that (in this case) the coffee was only free to the person who asked for it and really, it wasn’t free because it had been paid for. The people that purchased these coffees see, on a daily basis, the people that receive it. They know the plight of these people. I would be willing to bet that for some of these people, that warm cup of coffee they asked for, may be the only hot thing they get for the rest of the day. The time they take in the coffee shop to sit down and drink their coffee may be the only place where they can be warm for a little bit of time.

As a whole in society, people forget about the simplicity of having a warm home to live in, a bed to sleep on and food for them to eat and be full. I won’t discuss the extravagances we have in the form of designer clothes, purses, glasses, cars or shoes. Let’s strip it to down to the most basic things in the form of electricity, water, gas, shelter and food. Without a vehicle, how would you get to work, to earn the money, to pay for utilities, food and shelter? Now, think of those times when utilities are temporarily cut off because of something that has happened on the providers’ side or due to a storm. Can you remember how you became upset or frightened you became over your uncertainty about when it would come back on? Maybe it was out for a few hours, days or even weeks. How did you stay warm or cool? How did you eat? A lot of times it was because of the kindness of strangers. Business owners procuring generators to open their doors and give people a place of refuge and a place to eat. Clothes were washed with the kindness of strangers that allowed others to use washing machines and dryers.

It’s this same kindness that gives me hope. Hope that one day people in this great nation will fully open their hearts and give more than they receive and to give to those who can never repay them. You see, I give most to those who can never repay me. Why do I do this? Because I have received the kindness that I’m talking about. I have lived in places that really should have been condemned because it was all I could afford. I have been on welfare and I have partaken in the food stamp program. I know what it’s like to worry over how I am going to pay to just keep the utilities on. I have had utilities cut off because I didn’t have the money to pay them. I know the pain of not having enough food. I have watched my children eat and still be hungry all while I did not eat because there wasn’t enough. It would have taken food away from my kids, so I went hungry…many, many times. I know about the Angel Tree program at Christmas because my children have been the recipients. Strangers bought clothing and toys for my children without knowing anything other than their clothing sizes, what items of clothing they most needed and what toys did they most want. I have wrapped these things, in secret, and placed them under the small Christmas tree and watched their excitement over JUST having something waiting for them. They didn’t care what they got, they were just excited to have SOMETHING.

I know the kindness of strangers who know nothing about my individual circumstances. They never asked, they simply gave, knowing that I could not repay them. I thank these kind people in a way now that would make them smile. I am now that kind stranger. I give every month a dollar or two more than what is due on our electric and water bill to programs they have set up to help those in need with their utility bills. What’s an extra dollar on top of the bill I already have to pay? I know that someone, somewhere, is going to either walk into their office or call their number and try to get some assistance with their bill because, at that moment in their lives, they are struggling. I give food to local organizations that feed the poor and the homeless. I don’t know the people eating the food, but that makes no difference to me. I don’t need to personally know them. I only need to know that they are able to eat because I and many others like me have helped to ensure they CAN eat. My daughter and I have made up bags filled with essentials like shampoo, combs, toothpaste, toothbrushes, etc. and passed them out to the homeless we run across with a simple note inside that reads, “God has seen you struggling and wants you to know that He loves you. You are not alone and may these items help you in a small way.”

With all of that, I have a favorite, and I have mentioned it in passing. The Angel Tree program that is run by Salvation Army. This is my pet charity. I save all year long so that each year at Christmas our family can pick two families. We always pick a boy and a girl, always. We get these two children every single thing on their list. Clothes, coats, gloves, socks, underwear, shoes and every toy on their list. One year, I chose the little boy simply because he said he wanted a model rocket. This little boy was meant just for us to help. Why? Because I am married to a man who LOVES model rockets, war games and comic books. Those were a couple other items this boy asked for. He made out like a bandit that year. Not only did he get the model rocket, but he got all the other items that goes with it, the batteries, the boosters, replacement parts, etc. He also got all the clothing he would need to make it through a cold winter. Last year, we got a 3 year old girl who wanted a play kitchen. It took me 3 weeks and visiting every last store and even driving to other towns before I found her kitchen, but by golly, she got it. She also got all the little things she could use to make a meal for her family, her dolls or play with other kids. Plastic toy dishes, cooking utensils, food, etc. She also got a baby doll and a play stroller. It was her little face that I wished I could see on Christmas morning. Actually, every year, I wish I could watch from the viewpoint of a fly, these kids’ faces. I also know that for two families every year, there are parents or parental figures, who will be grateful that someone took the time to give items that their child needs and/or wants. As far as clothing, we make sure we get them enough clothes that they can wear a different outfit each day for 7 days. We even get them one outfit they can wear to church or to get “pretty” pictures in. If we purchase items that need batteries, then they get the batteries too. I don’t do any of this for recognition. In fact, that’s why I love the program so much. It’s all anonymous. I don’t know where these kids live and the families have no clue as to who I am. I like it that way.

I just prefer to donate anonymously or if it must have a name, I simply say “The Bunch Family”. It doesn’t get much more anonymous than that. I’m not always able to donate to charities or to help someone out. But, I try not to worry so much anymore. I know that I am only doing what I feel I’ve been called to do at that moment. I’m glad that I CAN help now. Because, the Lord knows, I was not always able and for many years, I struggled profusely.

Don’t look down on someone who is less fortunate than yourself. You do not know the circumstances behind where they are currently. Ridiculing them for it doesn’t make them look worse, it makes you look extremely ugly. I urge you, if you are able, think of others and put their needs ahead of your wants. If you can’t donate items or money, or if you don’t want to, I beg of you to donate your time in a soup kitchen or something similar. Give without expecting to receive. You won’t be sorry.

I'm so over all of this crap

I feel like I need to air a few issues, so this is what I shall discuss.

First, let’s talk about beliefs and opinions, which is essentially the same thing. I know that I am guilty of attacking a person’s beliefs and of their opinions. However; that meant that I was the one with the issue and not the other person. I’d like to think that over a long period of time I have matured enough to realize that each of us has our right to our own thoughts and beliefs. I’d really like to think that I am able to take that wisdom and not behave in such a manner that they feel like they are coming under attack from me. On the flip side of that coin, I’d also like to believe that I won’t feel the same way again either. Unfortunately, this is not going to be the case and I know that. Just as surely as I know that the sun rises in the East and sets in the West. So, with that said, I must therefore be well versed enough and believe with such conviction that I am prepared for the onslaught of what I know will come.

Yesterday was one of those kinds of days. I felt as if I was being attacked for a belief that I have. I tried very hard to not take offense and not become angry over it. I partially succeeded in that attempt. I took offense to only one sentence out of the entirety that was said. To me that is progress. I do think that I had success in not lashing out at anything other than what I took offense to because I understood what they were saying and while I didn’t necessarily agree with it, I realized that this is that person’s belief. I really want to think that in my future that I will continue to not say to another person that what they firmly believe is in any way, wrong. Who am I to judge what is right or wrong in someone else’s head? It isn’t my place to judge them. That belongs to my Lord and Savior and not any living being on this earth. You can even disagree with that and I’m okay with it. I simply beg of you to hold steadfast in what you believe, do your own research on whatever the matter is be it your faith, your political views or whatever else you believe. Be educated in those matters and speak with conviction, yet retain your composure WHEN you come under attack from others.

This next topic is something that my friends and my immediate family will side with me on, but I am almost positive that there will be some family members that will take issue with. I’m going to take it there anyway. There are and have always been great measures taken to keep a great dividing gap between our children. When I say our children, I mean mine and Pat’s. Not that him and I put the gap there, but another party did. To go to the length of coaching children as to how they are to act and speak around me was not a surprise for me to learn, but I felt that if you must coach your offspring then the insecurity is yours and not mine. Nine years I have dealt with this. At every turn, my husband and I met opposition from the other party, attempts to create discord in our marriage and blatant attacks toward my husband. Five years ago I hit my limit on disrespect. I do not tolerate it from my own daughters and I will not tolerate it from his. Period. At that point, I became the enemy with my In-laws. I made it known that I would not allow certain people under the same roof as myself if they cannot control themselves and be respectful. That rule is still in effect to this day. My own daughter is not allowed to be back under my roof so to think that I would allow the same kind of behavior from another child is ludicrous.

I know that I am not the mother to a couple of our children and I never once tried to replace their own. However; I AM a mother and the rules that my own must follow are the same rules for the others. One rule, straight across the board. I did not make any difference. Others do not have that same policy. I have witnessed obvious differences made between “true” family members and family members by marriage only. I have tried for a great number of years to overlook it and just remain steadfast in my own manner. This year was the year I failed. I cannot bear to continue watching from the sidelines. I am not friends with these people and won’t perpetuate the illusion that I am. I’m just tired.

I’m tired of watching my child cry because of another child. I’m tired of watching my daughter become angry because the mother of the other child has created an entire lifetime worth of animosity and jealousy in her child and it is aimed at my daughter. I am tired of feeling as if I am caught in the middle between three warring families. I’m done! If someone has a problem with me then talk to ME. If you don’t know how to do that, then that is your issue, not mine, not my husband’s and most definitely not the children’s. Regardless of whatever issue is going on with one of the other kids, the moment my husband learns of it, it isn’t long after, that I learn it as well. With that being said, it is my suggestion that they not go through me to reach him. If he needs to be reached there are ways to do it other than asking me to do it for you. I, like you, do not want to be in the middle. And, like I am doing now, stop being nice and remove yourself from the position you find yourself in.

I was sincere in my words when I said that I hope she was okay. I did not ask for information, nor was it required. A rote response of “she will be” or “I hope so as well”, was all that was needed. I knew that I would learn what was going on, it was just a matter of time. When I did learn what was going on, I had to encounter an attitude that I have seen only too many times from my husband. Each time, it only serves to make me angry. I become angry with each person that is a link in the chain that upsets him. To read the words, “like Britney had”, was enough to push me over that proverbial cliff I’ve been clinging to for NINE years. You may very well love your family and you can rest assured that I love mine just as much. In an attempt to help my husband keep his sanity I have decided that OUR family, meaning the people that live in our house, is where I will keep my focus. I, and I alone, will make sure that we are cared for and nurtured. I have never stood between Pat and any of his family and I will continue in that manner. I also will no longer make mine or my daughter’s presence known around the rest of his family. This may be considered as wrong in your book, but not in my own.

What I want to point out though is this. Children grow up and move away from their parents. A marriage is between two people and no one else. As long as the husband and the wife love and nurture what they have then they continue to thrive when the children are out on their own. This is my goal. That and just making sure that my children are raised in a manner that I deem fitting and just. Your, meaning everyone, opinion means absolutely nothing to me.

My last bit of infinite wisdom is this and you can agree or disagree.

You CAN love someone and not like them.

That is where I am.

America, the bully.

U.S. Says Navy SEAL Team Stages Raid on Somali Militants

U.S. Raids Strike Terrorist Targets in 2 African Nations (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/06/world/africa/Al-Qaeda-Suspect-Wanted-in-US-Said-to-Be-Taken-in-Libya.html?hp&_r=0)

Those are just two of the top news stories featured by The New York Times. I’m choosing to address these particular stories because of the blatant abuse of power that was used to orchestrate these events. While it is claimed that these raids ‘just happened’ to be done on the same day and it was not planned as such, I am finding that extremely hard to believe. I’d like to say that I am surprised, but alas, I am not.

I’d like for our Commander in Chief to explain to me why we are using our military to strike at an organization that orchestrated a hostile takeover of a shopping mall in Nairobi, subsequently killing many people, yet they cannot confirm that any Americans were hurt or injured. Why, during a government shutdown, are you allowing our military forces to be used to strike down a certain target and now you cannot even confirm that the target was eliminated? WHY are we spending money we clearly do not have to ‘flex the American military muscle’? Anyone? Maybe I’m missing something here.

It was stated on Friday by the finance office that pays all our military that even with the Pay Our Military Act having been signed, the military members are not going to be paid due to ‘lack of information.’ I’m starting to see a trend. Give the American public only the minimal information they need and keep them in a constant state of fear. I, for one, Sir am not one who frightens easily and when I do it only serves to make me angry.

We, the American citizens, are tired of the bullying, the lies, the shady deals, the backroom talks, the lack of credible information and the incompetency being shown by our current leadership! I believe that our military should not have the R2P (Responsibility To Protect) other countries from terroristic groups or activities. We obviously cannot keep our government open, why are we butting into things that are not happening here? We should not be the country who bulldozes into an area and offers ‘help’ in the form of cash, military grade weapons or putting our own troops there! Maybe, just once, we really should close our borders and take the time to get our leadership in line, our finances in line and take care of the citizens of our own country!