NO more complaining

I feel like a lout, here I am moaning and groaning over a hurt back and not being able to shave my legs....In my not really being able to clean or unpack my apartment I have taken the time to browse through other blogs. I have come across ones that have rendered me to heartache and tears. There are several people that are chroniclers of their terminally ill life. I read of a young man who justs wants to live a normal life, but is counting the days till his last breathe. I admired his inner courage and strength to continue each day as a memorial to life. Reading them made my pain feel mighty insignificant.
I was talking the other day with one of my co-workers and mentioned my father's fight with cancer. I expressed to this person of my fear of not being as strong as my father was if faced with that kind of illness and once again I am drawn inward to how weak I really am. I moan and grown about paper cuts, I abhor pain. I am a whimp. Yet I also know about myself that who the going gets tough I get tougher. I think back on all I have been though in my life and I tell myself that I have to believe that I would be able to bear any burden put upon me. Having lived through many horrendous things in my life, I feel their pain. I wanted to post a comment to some of these people, but was afraid to do so. I don't want them to feel I pity them, I understand myself about pity. I was moved by their courage, selflessness and desire to find life in even the smallest details.
I am hurting so bad, but I am not going to give into a personal pity party. I am going to go lay down for awhile and read. Maybe even reflect on some of the bloggers that I feel like I have met, yet do not even know their names. (I am becoming awfully adicted to blogging...it is a beautiful thing)

Can't shave my legs

AWWWWWW.

Even the simpliest thing of shaving my legs is impossible with my back hurt. I decided to take a shower a little while ago and wanted to shave my legs and I couldn't bend over to do so...but not to be defeated I thought...no big, I will sit on the counter and shave in the sink. I got out of the shower and grabbed my little step stool and halfway climbed on the sink. It hurt a little but I was gonna bear through it. I managed to get my shaving cream on half my right leg and with in two swipes of my razor my back was screaming. I managed to somehow get off the sink and remove the shaving cream with a wash clothe and now I am looking at a half shaved leg and wanting to scream, cry and jump up and down like a two year old....sigh

Moan, Groan and Complain

OUCH....Yesterday we had another family job. (I work for my relative, he does epoxy aggregate flooring.) My job, (I am the smallest person on the crew) is to carry and lift the 50 pound bags of rock and get them into the machine, properly mixed and ready to be put down. Most of the time that is no problem, but yesterday was crazy we realized that the guy we get the rock from gave us two different sizes of one type of rock. Therefore there was more work for me to do. In the process of all this I severely tweaked my back. But I kept pushing myself, and ended up barely being able to move. That makes me incredibly angry!!!!!!!! I hate being hurt, I hate being dependent on someone for help!!!! I may be small but I have always had to fend for myself and now that I can barely get on and off the bed is making me crazy. Right now just sitting at the computer is killing me....But I refuse to continue to lay in bed.

And more whining coming.... I hate it....I hate being alone all summer, I hate rushing home and not having someone to come home to. I hate being alone and lonely all summer. being the person I am I tell myself to just deal with it. I push my feelings aside and carry on.

Oh well enough complaining and if I don't get up from this chair and lay back down someone may have to carry me back to my bed...my back hurts SO bad....

Friday Night

Wow, I have been without a computer for a week and I felt like someone had removed my right arm. I have come to realize that being able to write out thoughts and feelings in these blogs gives me freedom and the ability to express things that would generally be left unsaid. It has also given me the opportunity to become closer to a few of the people around me. Being close to someone is something that all of us need and crave. It has been awhile since I continued on my story of my life. I will pick back up where I left off with my first broken heart.

I realized in Kindergarten that I REALLY like boys. I was not a "cooty" kind of girl. I also realized that the boys looked at me as "just a friend". I was very much a tomboy and very athletic. I think that being tough was one of my coping methods for my crazy home life. I don't remember too many details about the rest of kindergarten. I know that during the summer when school let out I got to meet a little girl who lived down the street from me. Her name was Jennifer. She was a few grades older than me and she had cool parents, a cool house, cool toys, and cool clothes. I wanted to emanate her in every possible manner. I started spending as much time at her house as I could. As Jennifer got to know me better, she began to take a "special" interest in me. She would lay her hand in sensitive spots or pretend to check a rash that she said I had. I felt guilty, but I was drawn to her. Part of it was being able to be away from my own house, I told myself I could "handle" it. I would just think about other things while she did her thing.
When school started in the fall, I was ready to go back to school. My mom was acting strange, but I didn't understand why. She wouldn't go outside, the curtains in the house were always closed, and she never got out of her house robe. First grade started fairly normal, but it also drew me away from being around Jennifer, which was very good for me. Our friendship just stopped as abruptly as it had started. Which was fine, I met a new girl new door, her family was Christian and they started taking me to church with them. During that year I did normal dumb sort of stuff that kids do, like cutting my friend's little sisters bangs and then lying about it. Yeah, I got in a ton of trouble.

Sigh

Today was a long day for me. I can stand in a crowd of people and feel lonely. I can see someone's smile and know that it is not real. I really do realize there are very few people in my life that I can say truly care about me. Sometimes I wonder why I am here, I do believe that all are here to serve a purpose, but in thirty years I have yet to find where I truly belong. I really am shy, awkward, backwards and upside down. Over the years I have learned to really put on the shining face, but the mask slips and the vulnerable me shows. I am so tired of hurting and tears and disappointment. I resent the fact that I can't be more or do more. I scream into the wind and no one hears me. Sometimes I want to run and run and run...Away from life, problems, myself...Till there is no more.

darkness surrounds
single, salty tear glides down
images swirl around
burdens unbearable
hands of time slow
sobbing uncontrollably
hallow screams echo

Craziness

Let me start by saying I am SO.....grrrahhhhh, rrroooaaaarrrr, @*%#@#%*, but enough about that. More of my life story....


During the time we lived in Bend, Or. is when I started to see some odd things in my step dad, which scared me (I had not even started Kindergarten at this point). Like one night he was drunk and my mom had to call the police on him because he was on his way to go kill my daddy. The next day my mom and I had to take a bus to the police station to go bail him out. Another time was drunk and my mom told me to sit on his chest so he couldn't move, because he was threatening my daddy again. That is when I started developing a real and deep fear of my step dad. A short time later we moved to Medford, Or. I started Kindergarten, here I remember odd things like I was an Oreo Cookie for holloween, and I remember my dress for school pictures. Then midway through the year my parents wanted to move to a new house across town and that meant that I had to change schools. I was so sad, because I loved my school and my teacher. We moved to the new house on 4th St. and I started school. I was in the morning class. There was a young boy named Tom that I "fell in love" with, he gave me a Mickey Mouse ring and said he was gonna marry me. A few weeks later he didn't come in from break and I was immeadiately very worried. I little while later the asst. principal came in and had a quiet conversation with the teacher. After a few minutes the teacher called us over to the rug to talk to us about something. With emotion in her voice she said that some boys from older grades had hurt Tom. My heart was heavy and was so sad. The next day the teacher told us that his mom pulled him out of morning and was putting him in the afternoon class. That was my first broken heart.

Sunday

OK more of my life story....So somewhere between the ages of two and three my mother became pist that I was so close to my grandma and not her, so my mother sent her away. My mother had finally found a job and was working (don't know where) and I was being babysat by this family. I just remeber small odd things...Like I was terrified of the parents bedroom, it had African art and masks and was REALLY dark. When I was being punished I was made to go stand in the corner and stare at their room, I would cry. Another haphazard memory is me eating a sandwhich and my little friend and I were goofing off. I had a glass of milk with my sandwhich, and right as I took a big swallow, the other girl did something which, at the time I must have thought was hilarious, because I laughed and ACCIDENTALLY sprayed milk everywhere, boy did I get in trouble. I had to go back to that dark scary room. During this time my mother found a boyfriend-we will call him George, he was 14 years younger than her and worked as a night guard for a trucking company. I only have one memory of when my mother first statred dating him, she picked me up from the mean babysitters house and we went to his job and eat pizza. I had to sit there and be quiet while they talked and joked. I got in trouble when I told my mom I was tired and wanted to go home.
The next thing I remember is my mom telling me we are leaving California and moving to Oregon. I was devistated, I did not want to leave my daddy. My daddy and I were SO close. My mom told me I could send the ENTIRE summer with him, at the age of four that pacified me. When we, me, my mom and George first arrived in Oregon, I remember we staying for a few days in a hotel while they looked for a house and jobs. The first place we lived in was Bend, Or. I remember we had a small house at the end of a long road. My mom worked as a security gaurd for the Bond (some sort of mall). I have no idea what George did at that time...

Saturday

For years people have been telling me to write a story of my life. I guess now is as good a time as any. I would probably have to go back a few year before I was born to really give an accurate portrayal of my psycho family. Some names may be changed in this so that I am not in any trouble. This is my remembering of MY life...so don't get your panties in a wad if you know other facts that I don't or if I remember something different than someone else.

My mother (Theresa Ruth I.)comes from a family of 4, my father (Brian O.)comes from a very large family. My mother has been married a total of four times, my father (God rest his soul) was married 8 times. My mother was married at a young age and they had a little girl (would have been my sister) she died of SIDS at two months. Then my mother was with husband #2 and they adopted a child, when my mother left that husband she also left that child. Then my mother met my father, she was 31 and he was 51 (I have no idea how many times he had already been married at this point. I just know he had one daughter that was the same age as my mother), nine months later out pops ME- Barbara Louise O. (I have always hated my name, I found out my mom wanted to name me Jennifer Ann. My fathers favorite sister, who passed at an earily age was named Barbara...therefore I am Barbara).

I was born in San Luis Obispo, I went home to Salinas, Ca. Shortly after I was born my father married my mother. I obvously don't remember any of this, I just know that from what both my father and my mother told me that my father owned several business and my mother smaoked, drank and ran around. I was about 1 1/2 when my parents divorced. I had my great grandmother living with me--she was the absolute light of my life. I adored that woman more than any other person on the face of the earth. My grandma was raising me while my mother was out partying.

Yesterday I decided to start a blog. This is totally new to me. Somewhat of a crazy idea, but it sound like a good way to rail against the world....Or at least be able to express some of the thoughts I have.

Today I was SO very incredibly tired ( so if something doesn't make since, it is sleep deprevation). I had a very rough night last night. I am really struggeling in a few areas of my life and I really am VERY frustrated. Well we shall see.......