Pocket Full Of Crumbs

I don’t know what the circumstances were, but I decided to just stop by real quick…wouldn’t stay…so I didn’t even get dressed. I stayed in my pj’s (baggy sweatpants and a T-shirt I’d slept in the night before). I don’t think my hair was even brushed…probably didn’t brush my teeth, either! When I got there, her place was set up for some type of home party. (I feel it important to note that upon entering, this room was quite large and open; high ceilings, wood floors, and lots of light. She clearly is successful with a nice bank account.) Little stands were on display and there was candy for the taking as well. People began showing up for this gathering right after me, so I ended up staying out of obligation (I suppose). It was a bit embarrassing not feeling presentable, but I stayed and tried to be a part of her “thing.”

After I’d been standing around for a bit, I noticed a girl I knew putting together an ensemble of “pieces” that my friend, the hostess, had created…different types of trinkets and such (my friend was explaining to her the meaning behind each item). I realized right then that my friend was trying to sell her very own, hand-crafted creations and that’s what this gathering was all about. Upon this realization I instantly knew I couldn’t afford anything, so I didn’t even bother looking at any of the displays (up close anyway), although I did compliment the girl’s choices, all the while keeping in mind that I didn’t have any money. I do remember thinking these items were cute and I commented to the girl as such. She was holding what looked like a super tiny, hand-crafted, leather wallet but it had pockets that you were supposed to fill with other things and it had some sort of purpose and meaning, but I don’t know what. I took it from her to get a closer look and some coins she had placed inside started falling out.


I began putting them back into the tiny, open pockets and sheepishly handed it back to her.

When it was time to leave I noticed there were tons of people slowly filing out and I thought to myself how it’ll take forever to get out of this place. They were all helping themselves to candies on the way out and I saw that each guest was only taking one. There were several boxes of treats for the choosing but not all were open, so I only took from the open ones…well, grabbed a fistful is more like it!  I jammed this fistful of Tootsie Rolls into my right pocket and then proceeded to fill my left pocket with whatever was in the other open box of goodies, but I quickly realized that my gluttony was super obvious and I was afraid my hostess would be able to see my bulging pockets as I left. So I was trying to rearrange what was in my left pocket and noticed there were a lot of crumbs in there. I had apparently stashed giant croutons into my pocket without ever knowing what they actually were! And some of them had popped out of their plastic wrappers amidst all the stuffing. Hence, all the crumbs! Not sure why I would hoard a bunch of croutons, I guess I was just trying to take advantage of whatever was “free.” One of the giant crouton-blocks seemed to be about six inches long  by 3 inches wide and it just wouldn’t sit right in my pocket, so I did what any normal person would do…I went to the bathroom, crumbled it up into the toilet, and flushed it down (that way my host would never know).

When I was finally ready to leave, I noticed everyone was now gone. I thought of going too, but I could hear my hostess friend just around the corner doing something, and I think she knew I was still there, so I hung around to say proper goodbyes. While I was waiting for her to finish whatever it was she was doing, I noticed a table of more goodies-for-the-grabbing by the door. Again, some packages were open but most were still sealed with plastic. I was gonna just take more treats from another already-opened-box when I noticed an unopened one full of these giant chocolate chip cookies with a uniquely shaped jack-o-lantern type face. I decided I wanted those and took it upon myself to rip open the plastic and help myself (to only one this time). I think that’s when my friend came back around the corner and we got to chatting.

I can’t remember her exact words, but the conversation was basically about how she had designed her trinkets and such with me in mind and how it was a bit disappointing that I didn’t show any interest. I then confessed my selfishness and how I didn’t even really look at her work. I then proceeded to admit that I was still wearing my pajamas. I think she chuckled at that. But, yeah, I basically felt like a heel for not being more aware of what this event was all about. Instead I had been focused on myself the whole time.

So, basically, this dream reveals how much of a self-absorbed, greedy slob I am?

The Shift

No one knows how or why it happened. Top scientists in the world can’t explain it. At first it was extremely subtle, but we all noticed a shift. We all knew something was “off,” but couldn’t quite put our finger on it. The wishful thinkers of the world thought that that diet they’d been on was finally paying off (that’s how subtle it was), but those of us who were more grounded (no pun intended) had a creeping suspicion that all was not well. The subtlety I’m speaking of was an odd feeling of lightness…as though being underwater, but not really…mmmmm…it’s kind of hard to explain.

As this oddity became more obvious, so did the realization of our inescapable fate. Oh yes, this weightlessness was quite alarming to say the least, BUT… once the oxygen began to dissipate, well, that’s when the fear and panic REALLY set in. Those days were so chaotic. Can you just imagine a slew of semi- floating people awkwardly battling each other, mid-air, to grab that last oxygen tank from their local nursing home?! Complete anarchy! Yet, somehow, SOMEONE knew this was coming and was already prepared for the inevitable.

Some of us, “The Chosen Few” (as the powers-that-be like to call us), were permitted into these fully equipped, completely sustainable Living Pods, or LP’s. What happened to those who didn’t make the cut? Not really sure. There are a lot of theories, but no proof. At the peak of this super surreal crisis, strange hover-type crafts began popping up everywhere and loading the old, the sick, the dead, and anyone else deemed unworthy for the new way of life. None of us had ever seen these crafts before and, NO, the hover crew didn’t appear to be little green or gray men! They were clearly human and clearly advantaged with classified information while the rest of us were left in the dark. Some of the CF’s who dared to venture out and seek answers were never to be seen again. My brother was among some of the inquiring minds. I think of him everyday and hope he is well, but that feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me otherwise…but I digress…

To be honest, it’s been about twenty years and it still doesn’t seem real. And what really sucks, besides losing my family, is that humans and animals can no longer dwell together (in the traditional sense). You see, the oxygen us humans breathe is now toxic to ALL other life. Hence, ‘The Shift.” Everything else…matter and animal, all of the outdoors as we know it, stayed in place as though nothing had changed…well, because it hadn’t…for them. There was no loss of gravity in the world around us and whatever “air” is now nourishing all worldwide ecosystems…whatever transition did take place…nature never skipped a beat. I know, I know…it just doesn’t make any sense! When the farmers could no longer look after the livestock or tend the land, it seems preparations were already in place to take over. These new ways of navigating were quickly implemented to maintain all agriculture.

I hate this new life. It’s no life at all, if you ask me. I miss the warmth of the sun on my face. I miss the wind. I miss the sound of rustled leaves on a crisp, autumn day. I miss playing with Aunt Becky’s long haired German Shepherd puppies. Horse back riding, motorcycle rides, and picnics at the park are all distant memories now. And, OH how I miss my cat, Harry. Sometimes, when I can get an SPP (Special Privilege Pass), I suit up and I go visit my abandoned and now dilapidated, childhood home. Harry’s gotta be in his mid-twenties now and it’s quite amazing how he’s still kickin’ around the ol’ stompin’ grounds…catching mice and lazing in the sun. So odd, but it looks like he hasn’t aged a day! I wish I could let him into my lap and scratch his ears like I used to, but the uncontrollable floating and protective gear won’t allow it. He runs away anyway, not able to recognize me. Breaks my heart, but at least I know he’s well.

(Deep sigh)…So many questions…zero answers.

(listen to audio version here… https://hitrecord.org/records/4467551 )

FULL Covid 19 Briefing w/ Drs. Dan Erickson & Artin Massihi

YouTube is hellbent on repeatedly suppressing this information, but I say we have THE RIGHT to hear what these doctors have to say AND we have the ability to decide for ourselves whether or not it holds water…

…which is why I’m posting a link to this video that YouTube continually removes whenever someone reposts.

Fight censorship by reposting this video everywhere!




For the longest time, depression prevented me from creating any sort of visual art. It just wouldn’t come out of me. Zero inspiration existed in my world.This is the first drawing I’ve started and completed in MANY YEARS. I had found an old sketch of a tree and decided to finally bring it to life. It’s my attempt at illustration, since airbrushing has typically been my main choice of medium. For this drawing I ended up using soft pastels, colored pencil, and markers.

When I did airbrush for a living, it was always on motorcycles or cars and it was always what the client wanted (mostly skulls and flames…sigh). I never did explore my own interests and figure out my own style. Everything I painted was a job. The stress and pressure from these impatient bikers (among other things) got to be too much for me and I burnt out. I quit. I gave it all up. I had to.

So, at the age of 44, here I am…in search of who I am as an artist… finally creating just for me and hopefully finding myself along the way. This first completed drawing was an experiment. I worked on it a little at a time each day for about two weeks (baby steps). It didn’t turn out exactly how I had hoped, but that’s OK. I was tempted to give up half-way through, but that would have been my typical self. So instead, I pushed through regardless of the outcome.

This is my beginning…my journey…my tree….from my silly little head.

The Smelly Unicorn (audio)

Did this voice-over because it’s fun…. if you have 4 minutes and 20 seconds to spare, go ahead and have a listen! https://hitrecord.org/records/4239436

The Smelly Unicorn

There once was a Unicorn, but not like you think.

He had a twisted horn and, MAN, did he stink!

He worked at the circus as an odd sideshow act.

People paid to be nauseated, that is a fact!

Believe it or not, they would pay five bucks a ticket

just to experience his befouling stench.

No sound could be heard, not even a cricket.

‘Till “Oh shit!” and “Mother Fff…” (please pardon their french)

Holding their breath to avoid sense of smell can only last for so long.

P-Uni did clench, but the fart proved to be much too forceful and strong.

A breakdown of will, the nostrils soon flare;

Loose butt cheeks provoked them to curse and swear!

No longer could he bear the demands to perform.

Gawks and jeers made him feel tired and worthless.

It was finally time for a life of reform.

He longed for a life with a much bigger purpose.

One day, in his stall, he heard a drunken clown say,

“In Hollywood, Unicorns are high in demand.”

So, eagerly, he caught the next cloud to L.A.,

determined and certain a great job he would land.

Stubborn and deluded he refused to take heed

of ALL his fellow freaks did lovingly warn.

He just wouldn’t listen, convinced he’d succeed,

but quickly found his only offers were porn!

He’d auditioned for Squatty Potty and an Icebreaker ad,

hearing sweet money sounds of CHA-CHING the whole time.

But rejection soon taught him he was wrong for this fad.

          With no where to go,

say hello to Skid Row,

          whilst living a life of crime.

Now covered in tattoos and a piercing or two, a result of his time in the clink,

you can now add poor hygiene and cigarette smoke to his already unbearable stink.

A swarm of flies persist all day long, hovering like some kind of curse.

No better time to swallow one’s pride and go home before taken by hearse.

Tail between his legs, to the circus he returned,

nothing to show but prison-tats and a frown.

Embarrassed for not reaching the life he had yearned,

P-Uni was sure he’d let everyone down.


to his surprise, his beloved motley-crew cheered

when they saw him hop off of that dismal rain cloud.

Upon realizing he was loved and revered,

a promise to never again leave he avowed.

If he’d only accepted the hand he’d been dealt, surely he could have saved face.

For his abhorrent appearance and violent smells no one could ever replace.

Don’t you see? P’s a hot commodity!

A moneymaker this business so needed.

Wealth was there all along, he just couldn’t see;

in life he’d already succeeded!

New purpose was found right under his nose, with a family he holds so dear.

He knows where he belongs, forget Hollywood! The high demand was always right here.

“Hip hip hooray! The Smelly Unicorn‘s returned!…

Step right up, all you ladies and gents!

P-Uni’s back to stay, a big lesson he learned.

We aren’t closing our lovely, striped tents!”

The moral is this, just be who you are. Be proud of that smelly old toot!

Full circle he came; It’s amazing to think all this happened because of a poot!


(click on The Smelly Unicorn link above to hear audio version!)







The Playground

As I stood outside during recess, all alone in my giant parka jacket, I could hear them talking. Wanting to be a part of the conversation, I approached the circle of girls. Unsure of which word was the correct one, I knew I had a 50/50 shot at getting it right; that’s what I remember thinking as I was walking towards them. So, in a split second decision, I chose…..poorly.

“It’s DIARY, not diarrhea!” they laughed at me as I sheepishly walked away.

Why is it so damn hard to make friends?!?!

My mom really should have socialized me better.


Mom’s Always Right

“Um…YEAH, I’m pretty sure it’s a bullet wound,” he flatly rasped back to the snooty operator.

As the phone cut out for the fifth time his legs could no longer support his weight and he slowly slid to the floor. Now slumped in a heap of defeat, the only current comfort he had was the illumination of the overhead light warming his sad, soggy frame.

“How the hell did I end up here?!?!” he rhetorically asked himself, sitting all alone in a red puddle of woe. This lone, oddly placed phone booth he now found himself in was a double edged sword. On one hand it was a desperately needed respite, but at the very same time it also seemed to serve as an obnoxiously bright beacon calling out to the threat looming outside.

A sudden onslaught of rain violently beat against the booth’s glass suggesting impending doom would soon be on its way. Left with only the torture of regret, all he could do now was reflect on the last four days of his pathetic existence and how foolish he had been. With no other options for help and all hope seemingly lost, he uttered the most odious phrase no one ever wants to declare… “I should have listened to my mother.”


Floating up towards the sun, without wings I can’t follow.

I gave up the chase around noon.

Why run after a heart so big yet so hollow?

I’m glad it was just a balloon.


For if I’d taken a risk for a heart so real

and followed without caution or care,

I may have found myself in a place nonideal,

lost in the  middle of no where.


I followed my heart yet will never regret

the heart wrenching pain that ensued.

For before all the pain and unbearable fret

love and joy my life did exude.

Ice Skating On Carpet?

So, in this particular dream I found myself on a small ice skating rink. I was trying to see if I could still skate like when I was a kid. I used to figure skate back in the day (for a short stint) and I wanted to see if I was still capable. When realization set in that I could comfortably raise my left leg high above my head as I leaned forward horizontally over the ice with my arms stretched far out to each side like a bird, I was pretty excited! I mean, I couldn’t believe how perfect my form was and it didn’t hurt a bit! All I wanted to do was hold that position as I glided freely about the ice, but there were so many people in my way that I couldn’t glide more than a few feet before I would have to stop. I felt extremely frustrated to say the least, and I wanted nothing more than for all those people to get out of my way. If they got off the ice altogether that would have been even better.

Then the ice rink became

a large living room with beige carpet…but I would still be able to skate around freely on it if I could just move the furniture out of the way.

No problem!

There was only a couch and coffee table. I pushed them to the far end of the room so I would have the open space I needed. I was sure to be neat about it because I didn’t think the furniture or the space actually belonged to me, so I wanted to be respectful.

But when I turned around

there was more furniture sitting in its place, right in the middle of my newly cleared area!

Every time I turned around there was more and more large pieces of furniture to be moved, all in the middle of the room. Soon it wasn’t just furniture, but clutter as well. I wasn’t even trying to be neat about it anymore as I hastily, and now carelessly, hurled old papers and all sorts of other junk out the doorway and into the next room. Despite my efforts, the mess never got smaller. I knew it was Satan putting all this crap there every time my back was turned.

All I wanted was the freedom to glide freely about but I couldn’t because of all the obstacles blocking my way. Perfect summation of my life, I would say.

Hitrecord.org Helps Inspire

So I signed up on HITRECORD about six years ago but never did anything with it. Suddenly I’ve contributed two poems within the last week and I’m not even a poet. This entry was written to compliment a picture of a flower underneath the moon. Like I said…I’m no poet, but I still like it…


Unaware the rules of Day,

her flourishing happens by night.

Never growing by Sun’s ray,

but only by glow of Moon’s light.

I was up ’till 3am writing this next one. The challenge was to write in two sentences or less a tiny story describing what we saw in the “tiny film” of a girl, surrounded by fish, standing underwater in the subway. After reading one contributor’s idea, it inspired me to elaborate on this idea of a train ride to a secret underwater world. The ending still seems awkward to me but it was the best I could do… Also, I couldn’t keep it under two sentences, but it was still fun and it was nice to feel inspired to create something! So here ya go…


She’d been told of a world deep under the sea,

a place with no worry or care.

It’s where she knew she needed to be,

longing to breath without air.

Magic ticket in hand she boarded the train,

uncertain this was a wise plan.

As doors closed behind they formed a good seal,

and soon the flood waters ran.

The seawater rose and then she was under,

lost memories began to creep in…

As fish swam about they soon did remind her

of old allergies to scale and fin.



I just went back and read ‘Eternal Perspective’ to see what I wrote about needing to stay in my marriage despite my feelings. I went back and read what I wrote almost a year ago because I’m feeling it again. The angst, the frustration, the anger and resentment; they’re all rearing their ugly heads once again. I knew I shouldn’t have watched those stupid romantic movies. It’s not reality!! And they always trigger this response in me and it lasts for WEEKS.

I feel like giving up.

So, in hopes of receiving encouragement from my own words, I went back to see what I had to say. Honestly? It wasn’t what I wanted to hear (or read, I should say) and I’m wondering if I was right or if I’m forcing myself to carry a load too heavy to bear? BUT, I have to admit…it did encourage me to keep at it. I do feel I haven’t done all I can in respect to “delighting in the Lord” as I should (read the link for ‘desires of our own hearts’ to know what I mean by that). I’ve been too focused on my misery. I will try and give the praise He deserves. I haven’t been listening to any worship music AT ALL. I will start there. It’s all I’ve got in me currently. Thank the Lord He understands where I’m at.

So, here you go, some juicy excerpts with a few rude interruptions, by me, here and there…

“…Could I have walked away from my marriage a long time ago? SURE! But this life was never meant to be all about us and our own wants and comforts. Yes, God does care about the desires of our own hearts, but He also knows what is best for us in the long-run. He exists outside of time. He can see far ahead and knows just what needs to happen when and where in order for His perfect plan to come to fruition. What if my willingness to stay in this thing and keep pushing through these trials will eventually bring BREAKTHROUGH because I didn’t give up? What if, by my staying, Rick gains true salvation and revelation because I persevered; because I stayed and continued to grow in my own walk with the Lord? What if my own life wasn’t ever about me but meant to be a light for someone else? …”

Pardon me, but I must interject here for a moment… What if, by my LEAVING, Rick gets his revelation? As far as my life being a light for someone else goes?…yeah, I’m failing HUGE in that department. I’ll speak for Rick when I say, it’s been difficult to be around me lately. Whatever light I’m supposed to be for him has been snuffed out by my own misery. Okay, you may continue…

“…What if?

By my staying, God is able to prune me while I learn about my OWN character flaws…and believe me, there are PAH-lenty. …”

Okay, sorry, me again…WOW. What a true statement…

“…What if a tenderness and a patience I never demonstrated before in our marriage suddenly becomes the fruit produced from my own pruning? Could that be what sparks a change in Rick’s own walk? And how amazing would it be for God Almighty to be glorified through the restoration of our marriage?!?! …”

Ummm, yeah…That WOULD be amazing but I’ve yet to see this long awaited fruit. If that’s what is needed to spark change then we’re both in trouble. I’m still too busy carrying around a heavy, hardened heart. And believe me when I tell you, I continually ask God to change/fix my heart because I can’t do it myself.

“…I’m trying to grow in the Lord and become all He meant me to be since before the beginning of time. It’s difficult to grow when you walk AWAY from the fire. How can you become refined when you walk away from the fire? How do you become stronger when you give up on something because you just don’t want to stay in it anymore? …”

Yeah, this statement punched me right in the face. I definitely don’t want to stay in this anymore. I don’t want to live this way anymore. But I guess I made a good point…How DO I become refined if I walk away from the fire? …maybe there are different types of fire? Maybe a new phase is necessary. Maybe a change is needed because I can’t see myself continuing for much longer before another breakdown occurs.

“…What if, by my staying and striving to seek God through it all, THAT is what makes the difference in Rick’s life? Isn’t he worth it? And isn’t marriage more than just wanting what you can get from your spouse? Isn’t marriage a covenant which means a whole lot more than whether the other person makes you happy enough?…”

Boy, talk about putting pressure on myself! But perhaps I was right? I think I’ve lost my eternal perspective. I’m still seeking God but He’s been silent with me for quite some time now and I’m not sure why.

“…It’s hard to live this way. I bottle it all up and then, after some time, it slowly makes its way back up to the surface and I break down all over again. This has been the cycle for YEARS. But I CHOOSE to persevere until the Lord clearly shows me it’s time to do something else. If He wants me to leave I will know on the Lord’s timing, not mine. … Because if I make some hasty decision based on my own feelings, I fear I may miss something big that God already has planned. I don’t want to miss out on what God has for me because I just couldn’t wait anymore. And besides, nothing I could choose to do on my own could ever compare to what God can do for me…”

I’m still waiting on the Lord. I don’t want to act without His blessing and clear guidance. I can’t do that. Not again. It just makes the journey longer and harder. I’m already so tired.

Another Weird Dream

Day 5 of 2020 and I’m not exactly getting on with life.

I got out of bed around 10:42 to pee and chose to lay back down again. When my kitty, Cece, decided to join me along with her amazingly soothing purr, well, I naturally fell back to sleep.


She’s adorable, I know.


In this dream I’m about to place an order at Dunkin’ Donuts but I’m standing outside in front of the drive-thru speaker. I can’t decide what I want and just then some girl from several feet away recognizes me and starts shouting to me as though we know each other well. In my head I’m wondering who she is as I outwardly keep up the friendly banter. She seems to really admire me, as though it’s almost “cool” to know me. Before she walks away I jokingly shout out to her that she should become a teacher and save the world. She laughs and then I’m back to trying to figure out what the hell I want to order.

I realize it’s quite cold so I decide to walk around and go inside to place my order…that and I don’t have a car so what am I doing trying to order in the drive-thru (even though I’m pretty sure there were other people doing the same thing)?!?! Upon entering, I notice that the workers and most of the patrons are black. It’s just unusual, is all, and I suppose it made me feel a bit out of place…out of my normal element, if you will. I walk right into one man on my way to the counter… “I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologize.

I realize I still can’t make up my mind on what I want; so far I know a hot chocolate is part of my order but I have no idea what I should eat. I know a ham, egg, and cheese croissant is bad for me but OH SO GOOD. I leave without placing an order because I still can’t make up my mind.

Not sure where I went, but I NOW know what I want and I have it all written down, so I go back to finally place my order only to find that the establishment is completely shut down. I mean, there is absolutely no sign of life. The windows are pitch black and I’m super bummed because I waited too long. “It must be because it’s Sunday” I think to myself. “They must close early on Sundays…if only I could have made up my mind in time…why is it so hard for me to make decisions?!?!”

I now try to make my way down the street away from Dunkin’ only to find that it’s a struggle. I feel disoriented and my vision seems off, like I can’t focus. I think that may have been related to the fact that, in real life, I have to now wear reader glasses and my eyes feel out of focus for the first couple of seconds when I take them off (or I just really needed sugar but took too long to decide what I wanted). I then see some guys I know and ask one of them if he can give me a ride home. He seems quite reluctant to do me this favor and I’m not sure why because it’s not that far (I seem to be in my old hometown for some reason).

“But I don’t feel safe!” I cry,

but he still won’t comply. So I slap him on the arm or maybe it was upside the head? That might have been it. Whatever the case, I tell him that he’s not a real man or a gentleman or something to that effect and I continue unsteadily on my way, struggling to walk down the street. It’s almost as though there’s some sort of invisible force against me, like when you try to run in your dream but you’re stuck in slow motion. Yeah, so it was just like that…but different.

I reach the entrance to one of the town parks and begin to cross the street, but it’s very hard to run (don’t want to get hit by a car) because I just can’t move as I normally would… as I explained earlier. After I reach the other side (on my hands and knees) I notice a small rock face up ahead, probably about forty degrees in angle. When I walk up to it I see some sort of wheel barrow laying there about halfway up so I attempt to slide it ever so slightly to the right until it feels secure and locked into place; don’t want it to come loose and slide down into traffic! But right when I wedge it in I somehow trigger an implosion across the street where the entrance to the park is. The ground starts to rumble and then proceeds to cave in. I even see a man getting sucked into the ground (he seemed rather large too…like giant size).

I try to run up the hill because I realize the ground underneath me is not stable and so I better get out of there! When I made it up the street a ways I think there was an older lady I conversed with, but I can’t remember what that was about now.

Then I woke up around 12:24, got up and finally fed my cats.

So yeah, that was my dream.

Not the greatest of endings but there you go.


Weird Dream

I just had a weird dream. I haven’t been remembering my dreams lately. But I was more present in this one than in others.

One of the first things I remember is Toco coming back to me. I realize this cat is next to me on this bed and I wonder if it could possibly be her. So when I look closer I realize it really IS Toco. I yell, “Toco, you came back to me!” I pet her to make sure she is real. She is. I don’t think she stayed, though. I think it was just a visit. Then I go to tell someone. I said I think she came back to me because I was missing her so much, which is true; I miss her so.

Then Rick and I were at some unfinished, loft type building looking for some guy he knows. I was thinking to myself about how this space would be a cool place to live if it were finished. Then I start to feel frustrated and think about how that’s all I’ve ever really wanted. A cool, FINISHED place to call home.

So we find who we’re looking for out back and he’s an older guy with white hair. Part of his face and head look odd; kind of swollen and disfigured a bit. When he stretches out his hand for me to shake, I notice it’s also disfigured and puffy. All his fingers are stuck together like a mitt and part of this “hand-mitt” looks discolored with a sort of whitish pigmentation. It’s also very soft and squishy when I take hold; jellylike. At first I’m sure to be gentle and he says to grip harder, so I squeeze harder until he winces a bit. Right then a thought comes to me to say a quick prayer for him while we’re still touching, so I say in a soft voice, “Be healed, in Jesus name.” He heard me, which I don’t think was my intention (out of fear), but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He said something I couldn’t understand as he was walking away (we were following) but it sounded like agreement and approval.

Next thing I know we’re in a car with the guy and someone I guessed to be his buddy…two old guys. Rick and I are in the back seat and we’re driving on a dirt road high up on a cliff. I see lots of pine trees and steep rock faces. The driver is going way too fast and as we take a corner he loses control. I feel the car veering off course and I know there’s no correcting it. The two front wheels seem to drag perpendicular to the edge of the road until eventually the vehicle loses its grip and finally separates itself from the edge (all in slow motion, of course).

We are now airborne.

Rick and I realize this fact and so we both say to each other “I love you” because we know this is it. Then I keep saying it over and over and over again…

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Then I say that I’m sorry for being such a shitty wife and I ask the Lord to forgive me for all my sins (apparently it was a long drop). But we never  crashed. Next thing I know we’re driving along on another street and we’re fine. So then I start thinking to myself about how maybe we should get divorced since we’ve now had such a traumatic experience that gives one new perspective on life.

A Promise For EVERY Believer

Today I discovered two videos in my “recommended” YouTube feed that confirm what I have already FINALLY come to understand to be true. We can be saved but still lack the baptism of the Holy Spirit. The baptism of the Holy Spirit is a promise from Jesus that ALL believers can receive. This gift fills us with God’s power and enables us to really tap into God’s kingdom in a way we never could before. I want this. I need this. I keep asking for this but still have not been able to receive this promise. But now I think maybe it DID happen to me when I first believed but, because I had zero discipleship, I never learned about what I had?

Or, perhaps there are still things I need to let go of that are inhibiting me from receiving; things that are “in opposition to the Holy Spirit” (spoken by lady with the cool hair) which prevent Him from getting in?

Or maybe it’s both!

Anyway…This is the first video I watched…


And this is the second video I watched which I think is REALLY GREAT!


I hope the Lord will give me the answers I need like He did for the woman in the second video. I’ve been asking for a really long time.

No Regrets

My plan to quit my job always depended on the completion of my work-space at home; then the timing would be right because I could fully focus on my artwork and airbrushing for income. So, when I quit far sooner than planned I couldn’t understand how it suddenly came to be. To quit so soon wasn’t part of my plan! I wasn’t set up yet! I wasn’t ready! Why did it unfold in such a way? It almost feels like it was fast forwarded out of my control. Next thing I know I was giving my notice.

Well, I am no longer kicking myself for my decision. If I hadn’t quit when I did I wouldn’t have been able to give my sweet, beloved Toco the time and care she needed.

And she really needed me.

I would have been at work worrying about her all day. I wouldn’t have been able to see her distress and take her to the vet at the drop of a hat when there was a last minute cancellation giving me only fifteen minutes to make it there. It would have been next to impossible administering her medication and monitoring her condition throughout the day. I wouldn’t have had the warm pleasure of cozying up with her all day when she was at her weakest and could not move around for herself as she needed.

Oh how precious it was to have her nestled along side me with her chin gently rested upon my shoulder…which ended up being her very last day with me.

No. I don’t regret my decision anymore.

Unexpectedly quitting sooner than later was a blessing.

God knew what was coming…

And He still knows what is coming and so I put my trust in Him.

I will treasure those last moments I was graciously gifted. I am grateful.

No more what ifs or worrying about tomorrow.

“…Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Today has enough trouble of its own.”   -Matthew 6:34

R.I.P. My Sweet Toco

She was laid to rest yesterday. We picked a spot under a tree in our backyard.


We placed a birdbath on top to mark her place and topped it off with an outdoor stone kitty we already had…seemed quite fitting.


Now we can sit by her resting place and remember all the good times we shared.



Her absence is still felt. She’s missing. But I know it gets easier with time.

Remembering Toco


She Was A Special Kitty

My precious Toco didn’t make it last night. She had been struggling to breath for over two hours and I had to decide whether to leave-her-be at home knowing she was fighting hard to breath and would likely suffer all night OR risk aggravating her condition more with a stressful car ride to the emergency vet…I chose the latter.

It was a horrible ride and by the time we found the poorly lit place she had collapsed in her carrier. She was already close to death but we allowed them to help her along. Even my husband was crying.

It was a horrible night and I miss her terribly, but I know there wasn’t anything more I could do. I wish I could have relieved her suffering sooner but these decisions we have to make are never easy or seem cut and dry at the time. I hate how unpleasant her last moments were and it keeps replaying in my head. But at least it’s over now.

RIP my sweet little girl. I love you so much. I’m so glad I adopted you. The pain I feel today is immense, but the joy you have given me for the last thirteen years outweighs this current sadness I must feel. Having to come home knowing you would no longer be sleeping in the crook of my arm every night was heartbreaking. It won’t be easy getting used to your absence. You were practically attached to my hip. Thank you for your unconditional love. Oh my gosh, you were sooo loving!

You truly were one of a kind.

I do hope Jesus is petting you right now.

…until we meet again…




Sick Kitty And Self-Pity

I don’t want to complain about my life anymore.

After reading back my last post, the self pity stood out to me like a sore thumb.

I tried do disguise it by owning my shortcomings and mentioning my faults while still managing to simultaneously blame my husband for my decision to quit my job. Clever girl.

At the end of the day I’m the only one responsible for the decisions I make. Sure, we may bounce stuff off of people but, ultimately, the final decision lands on us. Granted, I really was feeling super sad when I wrote what I did, and that’s the point of this blog for me; to write what I’m feeling, at the time, to get it out of me. But it can still sting a little when I read stuff back in a different frame of mind.

Whether I did or didn’t do the right thing at the time…it doesn’t matter now. All I can do is move forward. No one can change my attitude but me. Wallowing does nothing but make things worse. I should know that by now! Just wish it was easier to do than say…or should I say type? Why is it so hard?!?!

As far as doing the right things for myself, NOW, goes…it IS a struggle. And I still haven’t told anyone in my family OR Rick’s family that I quit my job and I don’t plan to. I’m pretty good at feeling bad about myself…I don’t need their help. I’m just hoping I get out of my own way, get up, and then get on with it. I did find myself actually designing a T-shirt concept on my computer yesterday and noticed how good I felt later, simply because I created something. Funny how that works…Perhaps a creative flow is beginning to seep back into my soul.


I do hope I figure my money situation out soon because I have a very sick kitty who has been draining my bank account ever since I quit my job. But that’s usually how it goes, right?

Impatience Leads To Dissatisfaction

I’m so stupid.

It’s my third week of unemployment and I’ve reverted back to my old ways. It took less than a week to screw up my sleeping patterns. I stay up later which, in turn, causes me to sleep later. I typically get out of bed around 10:30 every morning…sometimes later.

I feel extremely down.

Now that I have no where to be and no schedule to keep, that gives me more time to focus on my miserable marriage and all my failures at life. Yeah, I’ve been trying to work on my house, but I’m running out of supplies…paint, brushes, etc. and now don’t have the luxury of buying more because…


Everything I do in life is wrong. If I make the right decision I manage to counteract it with a wrong one…


I don’t think I’m capable of being happy in this life. That seems to be the pattern.

I feel so sad.

I shouldn’t have quit my job. My husband said what I wanted to hear and so I quit…just like that. He wasn’t thinking about what kind of negative impact that would have on me. He either doesn’t care or that shit just never occurs to him. God led me to that job and I went and threw it away because why? …they wouldn’t let me go back to three days a week? ..because I knew Merry made more money than me for doing the same exact job? They seem like good reasons but now I have no money. I should have just sucked it up despite the bodily pain and frustrations and waited until God had something else for me. My original plan was to stay there until my work-space at home was complete. Then I could start producing artwork again and make some money that way.


Instead I got impatient and threw away a steady income.


There are no other places where I can go and make what I was making at this place. Besides the fact that I can’t bring myself to seek work at an unfamiliar place because…

…social anxiety.

My job was at a very small and familiar company where I knew everyone and was comfortable. The only reason I got this job was because THEY asked ME. I’m no go-getter. I hate unfamiliar territory and the uncertainty of the unknown. Too much anxiety to put myself out there like that. Besides, I ain’t gonna work at Walmart. This company ruined me for other places. They were extremely laid back and I could typically zone out with my headset while doing my work. They had a lot of positives and I chose to focus on a couple unfavorable facts.

So now…here I am… Back to being a miserable, broke, dumb-ass who has no purpose in life. Too hard on myself? Maybe. Perhaps I just need more time to adjust. After re-reading “Here I Go” I tend to still agree with everything I wrote. But the concerns I spoke of seem to be coming to fruition. I know myself too well.

More On Tongues…Again

How quickly I forget.

I just came across this video on YouTube and soon realized I had posted this very video in a much older post about struggling to understand the gift of tongues. Now, after watching it a few years later, I’m hearing it with newer ears. This video corrects me on my suspected misinterpretation of 1 Corinthians 12:30 (from Afterthought to ‘Inadequate’). That verse was speaking of a certain type of tongue…there are about four. And yes, I do believe all spirit filled believers CAN speak in tongues. I still don’t because I have yet to yield myself fully to it and I’m still not sure how, and it’s not from a lack of trying. It’s like there is a wall in my way. As I wrote in an update on 3/3/2018 in a post entitled “Deception Unveiled?” (not a recommended read)…

“…I still don’t speak in tongues, but I’ve also since become aware that I’m holding myself back by not “yielding” as John suggested in the above video. Derek Prince has also shared similar thoughts that line up with this. All the gifts are available to all believers whenever the Spirit wills it. I just have to be open to receiving it. I’m sure I’ll get there…”

This is the same conclusion I had already come to years ago. How many times must I circle around this mountain?!?!


I almost forgot about the baptism in the Holy Spirit…Don’t I need that first? In this video, John Bevere talks about being “filled” with the Holy Spirit but he never mentions being baptized in the Holy Spirit…So what did he mean?!?!

Long, frustrated siiiiiiiigh…

I’m so tired.

This is the last post I care to make on this subject until I am finally operating in this gift.



Afterthought to ‘Inadequate’

(I also added this to the end of ‘Inadequate’, but I thought I’d publish it separately, as well.)


After rewriting about my experience of becoming born again, I find myself wondering if that experience was indeed a baptism in the Holy Spirit? Did I receive Jesus AND become baptized in the Holy Spirit simultaneously? Did I just not understand what had happened because I was so young and had no one to help teach me?

…But I had no evidence of speaking in tongues…is that the only evidence there is of being baptized in the Holy Spirit? So many questions…

It does say in 1 Corinthians 12…

“… 27 Now you are the body of Christ, and each of you is a member of it. 28 And in the church God has appointed first of all apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then workers of miracles, and those with gifts of healing, helping, administration, and various tongues. 29 Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? 30 Do all have gifts of healing?


Do all interpret? 31 But eagerly desire the greater gifts.

And now I will show you a way that is beyond comparison.”

Reading this confuses me a bit since it seems to imply that not everyone will speak in tongues, or at least that’s how I seem to be interpreting it to mean. It’s often taught in the church that speaking in tongues is evidence of the baptism in the Holy Spirit. The first baptism in the Holy Spirit was on Pentecost in the book of Acts and EVERYONE spoke in tongues that day. Also, in Acts 19: 6, tongues and prophesy seem to be the immediate evidence…

“… 5 On hearing this, they were baptized into the name of the Lord Jesus. 6 And when Paul laid his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came upon them, and they spoke in tongues and prophesied…”


I came across this article and I think it further answers my questions…


I think the following excerpt from the link above describes me well and I have been asking my Heavenly Father for this baptism. I will not stop asking until I finally receive this promise.

“…The baptism in the Holy Spirit is a crisis experience just as our initial conversion experience was. We cannot be gradually baptized in the Holy Ghost, just as we cannot be gradually baptized in water. Certainly we can be gradually filled with God’s Spirit, but one day that “filling” will spill over into a baptism or complete immersion in the Holy Ghost. Many believe they need not ask for this experience because they think they receive the Holy Spirit at conversion. While this is true in the sense that the Holy Spirit comes upon us, and in us, to plant the seed of life in Christ, it is not true that we are completely filled with His Spirit unless we ask for it. “…How much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?” (Luke 11:13).

Many people have been “born again” and have the Holy Spirit working in their lives, but have never received the baptism in the Holy Ghost which equips them for service and gives them the power needed to overcome in Christ…”


I need that! The power to OVERCOME in Christ. Oh how I need that.



Born Again

I’ve posted about this before, but it’s good to repeatedly speak of what God has done…

I was nine years old when it happened. I remember sitting in my dad’s car listening to him tell me about Jesus. He was dropping me back off at home after another Sunday visit (my mother had full custody). Before I got out of the car to go inside he told me about how if I ask Jesus to come into my heart,

                         He will.

I honestly can’t remember details of this talk, but that night after I had gone to bed, I remembered what Dad had said earlier in the day. As I lay on my belly with my little cheek pressed against the pillow, I began to pray to Jesus. I told Him how I wanted Him in my life. I asked Him to

        “PLEASE come into my heart.”

The more I prayed the deeper the sincerity became until I was

         sobbing UNCONTROLLABLY

into a now wet pillow, pleading with Him to come into my heart. I remember feeling COMPLETELY desperate for Him.


a powerful energy I’d never felt before entered into my back,

        went directly into my heart

and then spread throughout my body. At the time I believe I referred to it as

       “a giant gush of love.”

I know now it was the Holy Spirit. Jesus LITERALLY came into my heart! The peace was immediate and I went right to sleep. The next day I remember standing out in my yard, raising my hands up to the sky and hoping for that feeling to happen again, but it never did.

        But I knew Jesus was with me.

I remember all this like it was yesterday. I was a child crying out to Jesus with a sincerity that couldn’t have been any purer. I was not expecting to feel anything that night. Didn’t know I COULD expect to feel anything. I didn’t even know about the Holy Spirit! All I knew was that I needed Jesus. I didn’t need any proof of His existence.

   I just knew that I knew that I knew.

I wanted Him in my life. I asked Him to come into my heart. With my face pressed into my pillow I sobbed with a desperation that could have only come from a deep, inner knowing that my heart was incomplete. How could I be aware of such a thing at the tender age of nine? Perhaps because I had not yet been jaded by this fallen world?…I really don’t know. My dad used to tell me a lot of things as a kid, most of which I could not understand, but when he simply told me about Jesus I knew it was true. It was the one time he managed to relay something to me in terms I could grasp. Imagine my surprise when God literally entered the depths of my heart upon an innocent child’s request. A most pleasant surprise indeed.

         So sudden!

     So unexpected!

And the peace was immediate. Lying on my little belly, crying out to Jesus to come into my heart and then Him responding in the most literal of ways. The energy was immense! It shot right through my back, directly into my heart (just like I had asked) and then spread throughout my entire tiny frame with such warmth and love…well, it’s beyond words. After that I knew without a doubt that Jesus was with me. I had been sealed by the Holy Spirit.

Ephesians 1:13-14

13 In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, 14 who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.

My brother once suggested that is was merely endorphins I felt that night…nothing supernatural. But no, big brother, that was not the work of endorphins…especially when one is not expecting to feel anything but the wetness of her tear stained pillow.


I need to be baptized in the Holy Spirit. I do believe that’s what is missing. Can’t understand why I haven’t received this promise of God. It’s by grace that He freely gives yet I can’t help but think it’s me.

I feel inadequate as a Christian without this anointing in my life; as though I’m an artist without any hands to create.

I lack.

It’s like I’ve been trying to do it on my own; using whatever I have in the natural to accomplish what only the Father can do through me by His power…His anointing. I have yet to receive His power and I desperately need it. I became born again 35 years ago. I know I received the Holy Spirit then but I have not been baptized in the Holy Spirit. There is a difference. I want to be able to pray in the Spirit but I am still not able. What’s wrong with me?

Am I under a curse? Is my husband under a curse? I do think we are both under a curse. I feel there is something blocking me from fully receiving all the Father has to give. I feel so frustrated and useless. I want ALL the Father has to give. I want to be baptized in the Holy Spirit AND in fire. I want Him to burn up and relinquish all the “gunk” right out of me. I want to be able to operate in all the gifts, as the Spirit wills. I want to be useful in the kingdom.

I will not stop seeking. I will not stop asking. I will stay hungry for all God has for me. I will receive because God is faithful and keeps all His promises.



After rewriting about my experience of becoming born again, I find myself wondering if that experience was indeed a baptism in the Holy Spirit? Did I receive Jesus AND become baptized in the Holy Spirit simultaneously? Did I just not understand what had happened because I was so young and had no one to help teach me?

…But I had no evidence of speaking in tongues…is that the only evidence there is of being baptized in the Holy Spirit? So many questions…

It does say in 1 Corinthians 12…

“… 27 Now you are the body of Christ, and each of you is a member of it. 28 And in the church God has appointed first of all apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then workers of miracles, and those with gifts of healing, helping, administration, and various tongues. 29 Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? 30 Do all have gifts of healing?


Do all interpret? 31 But eagerly desire the greater gifts.

And now I will show you a way that is beyond comparison.”

Reading this confuses me a bit since it seems to imply that not everyone will speak in tongues, or at least that’s how I seem to be interpreting it to mean. It’s often taught in the church that speaking in tongues is evidence of the baptism in the Holy Spirit. The first baptism in the Holy Spirit was on Pentecost in the book of Acts and EVERYONE spoke in tongues that day. Also, in Acts 19: 6, tongues and prophesy seem to be the immediate evidence…

“… 5 On hearing this, they were baptized into the name of the Lord Jesus. 6 And when Paul laid his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came upon them, and they spoke in tongues and prophesied…”

I came across this article and I think it further answers my questions…


I think this excerpt from the above link describes me well and I have been asking my Heavenly Father for this baptism. I will not stop asking until I finally receive this promise.

“…The baptism in the Holy Spirit is a crisis experience just as our initial conversion experience was. We cannot be gradually baptized in the Holy Ghost, just as we cannot be gradually baptized in water. Certainly we can be gradually filled with God’s Spirit, but one day that “filling” will spill over into a baptism or complete immersion in the Holy Ghost. Many believe they need not ask for this experience because they think they receive the Holy Spirit at conversion. While this is true in the sense that the Holy Spirit comes upon us, and in us, to plant the seed of life in Christ, it is not true that we are completely filled with His Spirit unless we ask for it. “…How much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?” (Luke 11:13).

Many people have been “born again” and have the Holy Spirit working in their lives, but have never received the baptism in the Holy Ghost which equips them for service and gives them the power needed to overcome in Christ…”



Thankful For Jesus


“…Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”   

-Matthew 11:28-30


Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
    and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
    and he will make straight your paths.

-Proverbs 3:5-6 

Here I Go

I gave my two weeks notice yesterday.

I hadn’t planned on giving it so soon but, after a mass secretion of tears and a talking-to with my husband, we decided it probably best to just get out of there. Although I have a peace about my decision I still feel sad at the same time. I wish I could have gone back to three days a week. I can handle three, as I said to Mike yesterday at the end of the work day. I wanted to be sure I spoke with him before I left to make sure we were on the same page as to when my official last day would be. I also just wanted to have a nice chat.

So I told him I didn’t want to leave on a bad note, to which he responded in such a way as to imply “Don’t be silly!” And I’m not leaving on a bad note, which is good. We had a good talk. I started off by thanking him for my time there. I said how I had reflected a bit and understand why he can’t let me go back to three days a week. Said I can see how it would be more beneficial to him to hire someone who is willing to work full time (no response from him…crickets…but he does that sometimes; super awkward).

I spoke of how this job has been good for me to which he emphatically replied,

          “Oh, I agree!”

I mentioned how it has helped me get out of a “self-destructive rut” by giving me a much needed routine, but I feel it’s now time to move on. I cannot physically or mentally handle more than three days a week; it has become too much. Even Rick says,

                           “Your not wired that way.”

And I suppose he’s right. I’m an artist. I don’t adhere well to what’s considered a normal work week…working for someone else. I get restless.

Mike asked me what I would do now and I told him my home plans and how I need to “get my house in order.” Not sure if he understood…you know, because crickets (and his wife, Kathy, must not relay our private conversations back to him?) I said that I do hope he will still call me for vinyl work as he has in the past to which he responded, “Of course!” So, that’s good. Before they hired me as an employee I would sometimes do side work for them on my own…good money when it can be had.

So, today is Friday, the day of the week I don’t work, and my body hurts. I have aches in my wrists and arms from all the folding of corrugated plastic boxes I’ve been working on most of the week. My lower back hurts as well…too much standing. I suppose it’s good that I only have two weeks left, but I’m still sad. I’m afraid to lose the routine. I seem to do better when someone else is expecting me someplace. I want to be able to do the same for myself as I’ve done for others. I’m just nervous because I’ve yet to master this thing called self-discipline. I need to finally show myself and God that I CAN make a schedule for myself and keep it. But I do think having followed a schedule for the last fourteen months has been good training. As my co-worker and friend, Laura, put it…

“I think this job has been a stepping stone for you.”

I just thought a three day work week would have helped me stay on track as far as going to bed early and getting up early. I’m worried about losing this structure. And, to be honest, I’m sad about not being around my co-workers anymore. I’ll miss the camaraderie. As an introvert, I have found this job to be quite beneficial as far having to interact with people on a regular basis (especially my two lovely friends that I like to hang out with at break times and lunch). This has kept me from withdrawing from life; hence the “self-destructive rut” comment mentioned earlier.

There’s still a part of me hoping they will tell me they’ve changed their minds; that they’ve thought some more on it and would I still like to work for them three days a week?

Oh, Lord Jesus, please help me with this. Let Your will be done in my situation; in my life. Please help me to do what I need to do for myself regardless of this outcome. I just want to do the right thing. Perhaps if I still stayed on for three days a week that wouldn’t be completely stepping out in faith; I’d be putting my faith into a false sense of security instead of letting go and giving it all to You? All I know is that I want Your best for me, not mine…whatever that looks like. I want to receive all You have for me, Lord, so…

here I go.

Biding My Time

Spoke to Kathy first thing Monday morning. Asked if I could go back to three days a week. She said they’d have to discuss it. It took until the end of today for anyone to tell me the verdict. Her husband, Mike, called me into his office at the end of the work day.

“So Jon tells me you want to go back to three days a week”

             ….he said.

I’ll just cut to the chase…He won’t let me go back to three days a week. Says the circumstances have changed. Says they’re busy now. I guess they’d rather lose me altogether and try to hire someone willing to work full time rather than let me only work three days a week. Apparently I’m not worth it to them (that was my take anyway) and I suppose I get it…it’s only business. But still, it doesn’t make me feel too great. I didn’t have too much to say; was too busy trying like hell to hold back the tears (wasn’t very successful). I learned a valuable lesson; your bosses are NEVER your friends. No matter how nice they may be or how safe you feel confiding in them or even laughing with them…at the end of the day..they are still only your boss, NOT your friend.

Whatever. I was never meant to be a factory worker anyway. I knew this was just temporary. But my heart is still heavy regardless…I will miss my new friends.

Now I’m just biding my time until I can use my insurance to get my eyes checked…then I’m gone.

Doggy Snouts

“Part-timers make less than full-timers.”

I had no idea of this fact. Why didn’t I know this?!?!

Back in July two new people had been hired and as I worked along side one of them we got to talking about all sorts of things. Among the many things I learned about this new-comer, one of them was how much she made at her old job of twenty years.

“They used to make up to 23-24 bucks an hour at Sam’s Club, but new management is pushing them all out. I had to take a $7 pay cut to work here.”

Without even realizing what she had just told me I empathized with her and said how much that must suck. It wasn’t until the next morning as I was slowly waking that my eyes suddenly popped wide open with the realization of what she had actually said! That’s when I did a little math and came to the conclusion that she made $2.50 to $3.50 more an hour than me!

“But that’s not fair!”

                                         …I thought to myself.

Then I tried to rationalize it… Well, let’s see… she had bargaining chips, a way to haggle. She had twenty years of employment under her belt and maybe she can even drive the forklift? Or maybe it’s because they’re friends? All these thoughts were racing through my mind as I struggled to make sense of this CLEAR injustice!

And then, one day as we were working along side each other, it somehow came up again.

“I’m sure you make more than me”

                                                                    …she said, looking across at me with certainty as we folded a giant cardboard box together.

“Well, actually…..”

I then explained to her how I came to the realization of what she had actually shared with me previously. When I gave her my estimated numbers she corrected me and told me exactly what she makes…$1.50 more an hour than me. That’s $2.50 more an hour to start than I first made when I started. She was very apologetic about having told me this. She insisted it was done innocently (yes, innocent…but still a rookie mistake). I told her not to feel bad, that I know she didn’t mean to spill the beans and not to worry about it.

“Is this going to be a problem for you?”

                                                                          …and I said,

“Wouldn’t it be for you?!?!”

                                         …OK, I didn’t really say that…but I should have…

                                                           …what I really said was…

“Well, it IS messing with my head.”

But I told her not to worry about it. She even said she wondered if she should maybe tell them what she had accidentally done, but I told her not to.

So, for the last two months I’ve been torturing myself with thoughts of injustice. “We do the same job yet they make more money than me?!? That’s so not fair!” Then two weeks ago, first thing in the morning, I LOST IT. Found out I had assembled some boxes wrong and had to re-do them. It wasn’t really a big deal but I made it into one; throwing a little temper tantrum as I re-did each box. My supervisor came over and I immediately lost my shit; started crying like the big ‘ol baby that I am. He was pretty awesome about it though….I must say. I now call him Mr. Zen. He explained to me, with the calmest voice I’ve ever heard, how he’s messed up stuff before that wasn’t salvageable and it’s OK.

“It’s NOT OK!”

                          …I cried.

I continued on about how stupid I am because I can’t even put a simple box together correctly and what the hell am I even doing here?!?! I’m 44 years old and I work in a factory and no wonder I’m one of the lowest payed people here (yup…I went there). He continued to calm me down with the coolest, zennest (shut up. It’s a word now) voice by insisting I’m not stupid and it was an easy mistake to make and it’s still fixable…no money lost. I apologized for my melt down and said it’s obviously more than this stupid mistake that has me so upset…He concurred.

So, as you can see, I wasn’t coping well with my new found knowledge of this wage gap. I had this speech rehearsed in my mind about how I was going to ask for more money without telling on my co-worker (no need to throw anyone under the bus). I was simply going to mention how I initially thought I’d only be working this job for 2 months since that was what I was originally hired for; a part-time, summer job. I figured three days a week would still give me time to work on my house the rest of the week (the downstairs tenants had just FINALLY moved out and, more than a year later, the place STILL needs A LOT of work). But then the part-time only lasted a week and I graciously gave up my entire summer to work full-time to help y’all out instead of getting much needed work on my house done and it never even occurred to me to negotiate my pay because I thought it was only a temporary job anyway but I ended up staying on and, ALSO, I HAD NO IDEA I’d be working major machinery and yada yada yada.

Yeah, that speech never happened. For two days in a row I could not work up the guts to speak to them. The other day I sat in my car after work for a good half hour trying to get up the nerve to go back inside to give this persuasive speech of mine…




Then Rick ended up calling me as I sat in my car, now crying because, poor me.

“Never show your weakness.”

                                                            …he said.

So I took my puffy, red face home to cry some more. What triggered the upset on this day was from being asked to work Friday because they were really busy. I agreed even though I desperately did not want to! They had already gotten me to give up my three day work week for four which would qualify me for health insurance (30 hours a week is required to qualify).

My heart sank that day.

Not only would I be losing $100 a week to this racket called Health Insurance, but now I’d be committed to four days a week. Up until that point I had been happy as a clam, quite content with the money I was making as long as no one officially offered me health insurance. I was even willing to work extra days when needed because it was still on my terms. But apparently that was too confusing and they wanted to lock me down for four (he originally tried for five). So I struggled a REALLY LONG TIME with that one. I only took the insurance for my husband but it was difficult losing $400 a month. It feels like I’m just flushing money down the toilet, but once it was officially offered I felt I had the responsibility to take it.

So, yesterday it all came to a head. I went into the office to pet Ivory the dog. I could feel the emotion welling up inside and Kathy soon asked if I was OK. I said no and ended up letting it all out (but not the stupid speech I had planned. That would have been, well… stupid) I just sort of said how I didn’t feel I had any incentive to work on Friday and that I had a strong hunch that the new people were making more money than me. She then tells me…

“Part-timers make less than full-timers.”

Oh man, how I wish I had known that!!! I feel so stupid now. All those weeks of unnecessary self-torture. I still don’t understand how we could be doing the exact same job, side by side, yet they make more than me. But after some reflection I suppose it’s fair since I don’t have to be there five days a week. But for me, four FEELS like five just the same! But I digress….

She also pointed out the sweet bonuses I get twice a year. She had a good point (and a friend at work had also pointed this fact out earlier, but at the time I still couldn’t see it. Guess I was blinded by the CLEAR injustice of it all). I have since done the math. Those bonuses ARE quite generous. It pretty much balances out. So yeah, did I mention how stupid I now feel?

Anyway, she told me to stay home on Friday and get some rest and let her know what I want to do come Monday. She said if this job has become too much for me mentally then it’s not worth it. My health is more important, which is also what Rick has said to me (he also said I got a taste of money and got greedy…I think there may be some truth to that!). All of this was followed up with a big ‘ol hug (she’s good for those). And I know they’re both right, it’s more important to get my own house in order than to live in misery and ruin my health. And, I have to say, while walking away from that conversation I physically felt a heaviness I can only describe as the release of actual stress leaving my body. That says a lot.

So, yeah…I need a home.

I’m tired of just existing in a space. It’s been a decade of this and I can’t handle living this way anymore.

This job has taken all my energy away so that when I am home I’m too tired and unmotivated to get anything done. My marriage has been an ongoing struggle and the downstairs of my house is far from the goal of livable.

I’m breaking down mentally AND physically. My body hurts from this job. The long hours of standing all day and other physical exertions required are wreaking havoc on my body. I have a lot of pain. My chiropractor agreed with my thought of returning to a three day work week…”doctor’s orders” he said. I just can’t handle more than that…it pulls me away from what needs to get done and it wears me down.

I was considering leaving all together but I don’t want to go back to having zero income….that would be stupid. But, a three day work week would still be doable until Rick can get my work-space built. Then I can start producing art and make some real money (you know, because I’m so greedy). But, until then, I appreciate the routine and discipline of having to be someplace.

So, of course I have to drop the health insurance, but we’ll figure it out. I have to trust God that He has this all worked out. I do feel this has all been an important season in my life and perhaps it’s coming to an end, resulting in the bearing of good fruit (pruning always comes first). I’ve definitely learned some big lessons in all of this. One of them being, don’t let stuff build up inside you to the point of emotional breakdown…but, IF YOU DO, make sure there’s an awesome dog close by to comfort you in your distress. There’s nothing like looking into Ivory’s big, round eyes of concern as she tickles your sad countenance with her whiskered, doggy snout.