October in Indiana...this is nice. Literally golden fields, leaves starting to turn, temperatures just briskly perfect. I automatically take the scenic country roads on my route home, and I'm so glad that I am here. This is "the great circle of life" as I know it, and I can deal.I have to, and I will. Heck-I am. I have friends, family,inner-faith, inner-strength,a history of adventure, food, warmth, running water...I suppose human nature is what makes me whine. I do my best work when reminded to get a grip.My old man is kind to me-and, he makes me laugh. I read a blog from a lady in Florida and it would appear that she either married HP or one of his control-clones. Only she has 2 kids.I took no one's advice when I was married, and who am I to advise another just because it worked for me to leave a toxic relationship behind? But she has a bias against new female friends as they harbor "their own agendas." All females? This guy has seriously injured this woman's psyche...or rather, I guess she has allowed him to damage her outlook on life. She will need professional help,and only then, of course, if she wants help. It's all all I can do to keep my own life sane.

When my Dad turned 70, I started to kiss California goodbye. I flew home to Indiana to once more review the surroundings, and see if I could take another stab at living here. On the flight, I was seated next to a beautiful Oriental woman and she was very kind, She initiated conversation and I joined right in, as I'm rarely shy when it comes to conversation. I told her I was scoping out the home team's town to see if I could transcend back, yet again...I remember telling her that I loved my family, but they "drive me crazy." Then, I corrected the statement saying that I allow them to drive me crazy-that I just had a bad habit of forgetting that I was in control of my world and how I perceived it...I babbled on about the recent lessons that I had gleaned from life, like I knew what I was talking about...Whatever I said, she needed to hear,I guess. As we went about our separate ways changing planes in Denver, she stopped me, and suddenly thrust a small elaborately gift-wrapped package into my hands saying, "Here, I want you to have this." I demurred that I couldn't possibly...but, she insisted, saying that she needed to do something for me as I had just helped her out so much! I could not gracefully refuse her, and ended up accepting her offering. Waiting for takeoff in my next jet, I slowly opened it. The box said "Sak's Fifth Avenue"- a store so out of my league, I will probably never enter it in my entire life...and it held a black velvet box, tastefully decorated with 14 ct gold encrusted semi-precious stones, I was speechless, for a change. And to date I remain amazed and incredulous, dazed and amused. For the life of me I cannot imagine what words of wit and wisdom I must have said to deserve such an ornate gift on the spur of the moment, from a beautiful stranger. I ache, knowing that whatever it was that worked for her, I've forgotten how to find.

Green Day looks so young-how is it possible that they know how I'm feeling? Did they write that song? Have to surf around and find out...Yesterday, I light-heartedly joked with a friend and mentioned that I was in the autumn of my life. He asks, "Is that a good thing?" Without hesitation, I answered "Well, yeah... I'm changing colors!" I wonder where that came from...I've been reflecting on my quip since I made it. My brother, the engineer gave me a laptop for my birthday. I had a 3-hr lesson, and was let loose in cyberspace...Always, so much more to learn...My sisters battle the same depression that I do dealing with our aging folks and our daily lives. We all make our stands to varying degrees, and try to be there for one another.A sister is a thing of beauty. No less amazing are my brothers...such personalities, accomplishments -I love my family so much. I wish that I could freeze time in some way-so we'd always be here for one another. I do not know how I ever made it without them... with what charms did the Bay Area blind me to leave this awesome support system behind? Twice. I feel Dorothy's pain-if ever I go searching for my fondest dreams...I hope I can remember that mine, too, are in my own backyard... So, I'm basically a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, like every one else I know..I just like to talk about it a lot. To any poor schmuck who happens to be within shouting distance...Once, as my marriage was crumbling and I was actually flirting with suicidal scenarios. I was flipping through channels looking for Bugs Bunny, and coincidently, came across Leo Buscaglia on PBS...saying that if I was caught in a miserable relationship that I had to stop hurting myself and remove myself from the unhealthy situation. That if I had to leave stuff behind, to just leave it, "You can always get more stuff," A month later, my Toyota was packed and I started my life over again. I cannot count the times I have left all of my worldly posessions behind, and started my life over again. And now, I have a horrendous junk room full of stuff that will be forever my goal to clean...way too much stuff...Leo planted the seed, and I found the strength to grow. Now, I have to find that strength again, Some days are better than others, Some are barely tolerable, and most days are some where in between. Vividly, in between...

Headache gone(for now), back pain definitely disdapating(for now). For now, I feel better. The person I want to be is controlled by whatever chemical imbalance my brain happens to be dishing out at any particular point in time. It is why I felt hopeless, and defeated over the weekend. Not the fun girl I want to live this life as...and though, I know that I am the only one who can better myself, I felt powerless to rise above the depression. My mother is like a child these days. Compliant, unaware,distant, distracted. A grown child oblivious to the horror of her situation(thankfully). It is so hard to visit her,& it will not get easier, and as it is the only thing I can do for her,I do it. Thank God for Rex, her dog that I took in for her. He has changed his attitude about visiting. He used to hide when I was preparing to take him with me to the nursing home. Now, that he knows I will not leave him there, he seems to see it as he is making a noble sacrafice to help me make it through the visits. I hug him and cry sometimes, sitting in the parking lot either working up the courage to go in, or giving myself some deep-breathing time after the visit is over. I glad he is there for us. Mom sure loves him-she will repeat everthing many times over all of the time, but most especially when she is baby-talking the sweet pup she rescued from the animal shelter some 6 yrs ago...she's slid so far, so fast in these last 3 years. She still loves me and knows me, but we've lost so much of that special connection that used to ring between us. After I leave Mom's nursing home, I pick up something to eat for my father and my stepmother, whatever they are in the mood for...They hate the food provided for them and no matter what junkfood they opt for, to them, by comparison, it is food of The Gods-KFC,pizza, STEAK N SHAKE whatever...and Dad usually cries. He cries because he hates the food, because his wife is having a hard time or giving him a hard time, he cries because he is feeble, he cries because he will never recover from the damage he did to himself getting falling down drunk and hitting his head on one of his barstools, then smack! on the floor. This, he does to himself after 2 strokes when he's 80 yrs old. Some times a sibling will voice the belief that it was an attemped sucide. I don't argue. I don't know. But Dad's drinking never slowed as he aged, and he was miserable as he and his wife were watching their bodies begin to fail. They, too,these last 3 years have full-tilt boogie fallen downhill. I get depressed and mad, and if Rex was not with me, I would fall to pieces and cry right along with my dad. I kept trying to lighten the mood, change the subject-anything! But Dad was either crying or just barely holding his tears back...making sure for the 20th time I knew about lawyers, insurance policies, masoleums, cemeteries, funerals(New Orleans-syle, of course.), everything he could think of to cry about. Thank God for Rex. God's gift to "lighten up". And for sitting next to me all the way there, and all the way in between, then all the way home. Making everyone he meets smile, being a noble hound in pursuit of his duty, making the rounds, cheering the sad. Today,it was back to work. A different type of therapy, and thanks to yet one more change in how my brain regulates my mood, it got a lot better. For now.

I suffered a moderate back injury in the midst of a 2 day migraine. Whatever chemical my brain released to deal with the pain, included an old acquaintance, that overwhelming rush of of defeat...once again. Hopelessness, weakness, and nothing to look forward to, but return engagements of more of the same in one form or another. I don't have any answers for anyone, but myself, and I have been so wrong so many times in countless situations in my past. I have never voted for anyone who became President. I always voted for the least powerful of all the crooked politicians, as I held to the hope there there might have been some truth to him. I have raged against the machine, and gone to jail for it. I have marched against the oil wars of The Rich Man, and gone home, tattered and torn. And I changed nothing. Just because I opted to lighten up whenever I could pull it off dosen't mean anyone else should. Somebody has to change this world and I wonder who it will be? Certainly, it isn't going to be me. I'm too busy trying to change myself and face the challenges of living day-to-day. I suppose all of this pain could have left me drain bamaged, but there really are not a lot of things I can change except the way that I view things. I've learned that I have limitations. I have a point of no return, and it exhausts me to try to exceed it these days. Martin Sheen has money to bail himself out of jail. People with money are the only ways and means to effectively battle other people with money. Poor folk have to take the good with the bad, and make the best of it. This is the only life we get to remember, and even that has a limited gaurantee. I don't want memories of jail flowing back to me when I end up like my folks, feeble, immobile,locked in my head left with nothing but flashbacks of defeat. I want to remember the good times I knew for as long as I can. Did I lay down? Did I give up? Did I ever become a part of the problem instead of battling the problem? Or did I just find another way to look at things? I can't lick 'em, and I sure as Hell can't join 'em, so I end up going my own way, dancing around them. Who cares? Probably no one except me. I do not expect any one ,but myself, to care nor to even begin to understand why I do the things that I do or say the words that I say. I baffle and contradict myself on a daily basis. Kindness is the only thing that makes a difference, and it only makes a difference to those who are giving it, so rarely to those who get it.But, please be kind to me. I'm getting old, and I'm watching my parents slowly, painfully go crazy as they die. It takes all the energy that I have left to do these things that need to be done, for the limited survival of this family. Forgive me if you find me weak and shallow, I have always meant well. I've never had any use for the Guns or their roses. I suppose that they were not meant for the likes of me. I understood and applauded the insanity of Pink Floyd but only because, I, too, have been to the brink. I go there at least once a week, sometimes every day. Do not rush to label me, as I plan to , most likely, change again, tomorrow.