Torture

I once heard that interrogators would use sleep deprivation as a form of torture for prisoners of war. I used to feel as though I was being tortured like this when I had small babies who were up all night wanting my boob or just crying for the heck of it over and over again–every hour–every single night. My babies grew out of all of that (especially the wanting the boob part, thank god,) but I am still reminiscent of those days of being woken up over and over again from time to time.

Like today.

Part of my overhaul has been getting some things looked at medically that I haven’t been able to do for the past few years. The past few years I hadn’t had health insurance and I’ve had to private pay for my doctor’s visit which is prohibitive from having certain things done because of their cost. Now that HG is able to carry me on her insurance–Kaiser is my new best friend and we spend a lot of time together. One of the things in my overhaul has been trying a few different medicines to help with my occasional anxiety and inability to sleep. I’ve already been through one that didn’t work, and I’m on to Plan B. Plan B medicine will be fine I believe when I get used to it–but in the meantime, Plan B medicine makes me completely nauseous and tired. These two things–being tired and nauseous–are two things that are difficult to work into my daily life.

Today, as I nauseatingly drove home from school, I was comforted by the fact that I could lie down in my lounge clothes and take a small nap before the girls came home. Quiet house. I live on a quiet street. It would be great. I snuggled into my bed with my lounge pants and immediately dropped off to napland.

Then the phone rang. Later I found out it was Bill Clinton but I didn’t answer.

I drifted back to sleep and a few minutes later the neighbor walked outside to his car and Abby and Ginger went ballistic barking. I mustered up enough energy to tell them to shut up and went back to sleep.

Then the phone rang again–it was probably Barack Obama this time but he didn’t leave a message.

Then the UPS guy pulled in to the cul-de-sac and Abby and Ginger again went into attack mode.

The girls came home. I quietly explained to them that I didn’t feel well and to do their homework but then . . .

They listened to the phone message and ran upstairs to tell me that Bill Clinton had called and that we should call him back.

A minute later they came in my room again to tell me that DD#3’s fish is dead. I told her I would fish him out of there later–I was too nauseating for a fish funeral.

And then the dog barked again–I think someone checked their mail or something traumatic like that.

And then I gave up and decided to lie here and blog.

I feel like I’ve been in a torture chamber.

And I’m still tired and nauseous.

I don’t know what the military is doing with those prisoners in Abu Ghraib these days but I can tell you what they should do. Give them some pills that make them tired and nauseous and send them to my house for a nap at 2:00 o’clock in the afternoon.

Maybe they can take care of the dead goldfish in my kitchen?

If only Xanex was put in our water supply

Today is Thursday which generally is the day where I catch up on things that I got behind on during the week or work on something new or do nothing much at all except clean my house and have lunch with friends. Today is not such a Thursday and every day this week has been a bit on “over-load” and I’m a bit frazzled.

Tuesday I almost made myself crazy with a list a million miles long of all of the things that I needed to accomplished. I was stressed and crazed and beside myself. The day ended with Thai food celebrating my friend Stacy’s birthday and me falling into bed–completely exhausted. Wednesday I had school which included a mid-term followed by a Dairy Queen milkshake, french fries and a coke while driving to North Portland to see my new Gyno. Amazingly when I got to my new Gyno appointment and the nurse made me get on the scale it said that I gained five pounds. Weird. I have no idea how I’ve gained five pounds. It couldn’t have anything to do with my Dairy Queen french fry, milkshake, and coke diet.

My new Gyno is the sister of a good friend of mine. A good friend that I helped have a couple of babies and who taught my Writing class last term (in which I received an A.) Follow all that? It really wasn’t that weird to have the sister of a good friend of mine feel me up because I’m really not all that modest in the least and I don’t care as long as whomever is doing the feeling up does not have cold hands (she did not.) By the end of my appointment we determined that the best course of action would be for me to have one of the new fancy IUD’s inserted that will virtually stop my period all together–a concept that sounds kind of great to me. We won’t worry about the possible side effects (death) because really as long as I don’t have a period–that’s all that matters. And because I’m a big fat baby–I had to schedule to have this little procedure done because I need pain killers prior-during-and after and because my friend’s sister is a responsible doctor and won’t let me drive after taking Vicodin–I have to wait until HG can drive me. Also I need to get tested for Chlamydia and Gonorrhea beforehand–I’m feeling pretty good about passing those tests.

Today I had to attend seventeen Student-Led-Parent/Teacher Conferences (okay, three) and had to register my friend Cory’s kid for kindergarten (at 8 AM) and take DD#2 to the eye doctor (she needs glasses) and take DD#1 to soccer and pick up DD#2’s friend and take them to the mall and to dinner and sometime tonight I may see HG.

Does anyone feel my pain?

But tomorrow is the weekend. And weekends are good. This particular weekend I will be spending the majority of my time with LeLo because we are very fancy and we are going to a very fancy, fancy Portland social event that is Black Tie. I will not be wearing a Black Tie and neither will LeLo–but we will be looking very spiffy I Am Sure. As a matter of fact–I believe that Lelo may be out shopping as we speak. If you see her tell her that black is good. I am getting my hair done on Saturday–I told my hair stylist that I needed her to make me beautiful–I hope she can work a miracle.

There will be photos.

Maybe one in a rattan chair with a fern–if we can find one. My only other confusion about this event is whether I should buy LeLo a wrist or pin-on corsage. I think either would be lovely as long as it’s done with a color-tipped carnations and a matching bow. I’ll see what the florist has that day.

And all of these events would leave me perfectly calm if only the Scary Suburbs put Xanex in our water supply. Think of how nice and relaxed everyone would be–especially me.

SMB tagged me for a Meme.

The rules of the meme:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

From: The Art of Creative Nonfiction by Lee Gutkind (who is very full of himself if you ask me.

The physicians intimately involved agreed that it sounded right. Bernstein thought that it was right, too, but she could not and would not vouch for the absolute essence of truth.

But if you stand back from the situation and think about it, this makes sense.

This was written in a section called “Who Knows the Whole Truth?” Best to be truthful while writing Creative Nonfiction–otherwise you may lose your advance and be dropped by your publisher.

I’m just sayin’.

I tag my local ladies . . . Melissa Lion, Wendy, Stephanie,

Indy, and Teresa.

The rest of y’all? Have a stress free day, will you?

Technical Difficulties

I’m experiencing Technical Difficulties.  All of a sudden I upgraded and enhanced and now things are all askew.

Today I woke up from an e-mail from LeLo stating that I was ignoring her.  I was not!!!  I called her on my way to meet my editor for the paper I write for and explained that I did NOT get her e-mails.  I figured out through our conversation that something was terribly wrong.  I had e-mailed Fleur de Lisa with no response.  It’s not like her to diss me.  Or my friend Sam who I also did not hear from over the weekend.  WTF???  Something must have had happened when I upgraded to Mac Office 2008 on Friday.

So I get to Starbucks to meet my editor at 9:30.  I waited until 10:35.  He didn’t show.  More mystery.  I sat in Starbucks sans computer and watched everyone–looking at every middle aged man who walked in the joint wondering if he was my editor–my late in arriving for coffee editor.  None of them were him and a few of them were probably wondering why I was looking at them so thoughtfully.

I realized a few things while sitting at Starbucks for an hour.

• People spend entirely too much money on coffee and coffee cakes and danish and fancy breakfast sandwiches.  Like that place makes bank.
• Mr. or Ms. Starbucks is a freaking genius.
• I think it’s amazing that Seattle is the home to both Mr. or Ms. Starbucks AND Bill Gates.  I guess all that rain is good for budding entrepreneurs.
• People who talk on their cell phones in Starbucks is one thing–people who talk on their cell phones while on Speaker Phone–is completely unacceptable.
• Waiting for someone for an hour and five minutes while drinking mass amounts of coffee makes one a little edgy.

After Starbucks I went to Trader Joe’s for pasta and wine–the two staples I always purchase there.

My pasta has gone from 69 cents a bag to 99 cents a bag.

My wine has gone up one dollar per bottle.

Milk is 3.99 a gallon.

This is George Bush’s fault and I intend on letting him know how pissed off I am.  Gas is one thing–don’t be fucking with my wine damnit.

So I get home and log on to Verizon to find my e-mail.  What do I see?  Two e-mails from LeLo, two e-mails from Fleur de Lisa, an e-mail from my friend Sam, two e-mails from Melissa Lion and an e-mail from my editor re-scheduling our coffee.

Damn technology.

And I don’t know how to fix it.  I’ve tried everything I know how to do and I’m flabbergasted to no end.

To top this all off . . .

I’m about ready to go to Kaiser to get my boob squished and I need to buy a new outfit because I’m having lunch with the governor of Oregon tomorrow.  Well, I’m going to a luncheon where he is the keynote speaker which is almost like having lunch with him, isn’t it?  And me with nothing to wear.

It’s just all too much today–but at least tonight I can have a glass of wine–inflated wine, but wine nonetheless.  And maybe tomorrow I can con someone to help me with my Entourage settings that are not working.  Anyone who is interested–I’ll be happy to serve you a glass of very expensive  milk or wine.

Any takers?

So . . .

(Buttons on your underwear . . . )

Thank you everyone who left a comment and sent me e-mails. I have absolutely no idea why anyone would be getting a virus warning from visiting my site. I host my site on Hosting Matters and they are delightful so I will certainly be asking them why this may be–they are much, much, much smarter than I am and I’m sure they will have an answer for us all. I don’t get that warning, but I am a Mac user, so that could be why.

Today the girls were off from school and we drove to Eugene to pick up my friend Cory and her two little boys. Cory has been living in Mexico for several years and her oldest boy (who is four) speaks mostly Spanish so none of us know what the hell he is saying most of the time. The baby doesn’t speak much of anything English or Spanish–so he’s a little easier.

Tomorrow DD#3 is scheduled to have two extractions done. Today, the oral surgeon’s office called to inform me that I am expected to bring $1,400.00 to cover the procedure in addition to the $200.00 balance. Hello? WTF? First of all–I wasn’t aware that there was a balance–I have never received any kind of statement stating this. Second, $1,400.00 for the procedure tomorrow? Do they think that I have that just hanging around in my Petty Cash Jar?

I have a call in to them. Let’s just say I’m not so much on the Happy about it.

Tomorrow I also go to my doctor to have her look at the big fat lump in my boob that I’ve had forever but this month it started to get all sore and bothersome. I had it checked several years ago and the doctor said it was nothing and I’m sure it is, but it interferes with my bra and that’s just not going to work. I can’t be seen without a bra as I will scare small children and animals. In addition my doctor will be going over with me the pelvic ultrasound that I had done the other day. The one where the Ultrasound technician wouldn’t tell me anything except that I have a uterus and ovaries. That’s reassuring. HG is going to go with me because she is nice that way and because I’m such a freak that I’ve already imagined that I have uterine and ovarian tumors and the lump in my boob has turned into some horrible cancerous thing that has metastasized into my lungs and I will only have six months to live. I guess the bright spot of that is if that is the case–I won’t have to worry about that impending $1,600.00 bill from the Oral Surgeon.

After the doctor we’ll go on a date. At least that’s something to look forward to.

So.

Xanex?

I’m out of it.

Stress?

Lots.

It’s 2:15. Is that too early for cocktail hour?

I think not.

Overhaul

Today was that time of the year again.

The Girlie Exam.

I’m one of those people that don’t mind the Girlie Exam–I’ve had three children for god’s sake, I have no modesty left. I love the part where they ask me what kind of birth control that I’m using; I say, “I only sleep with women, that usually controls it.”

Today, my new doctor and I talked about all sorts of things and on top of getting probed and swabbed and what not, I had blood drawn to check my thyroid, my blood sugar, and my cholesterol. (I’m turning 39 on Monday; it’s pretty much all going to hell from here on out.) Not to mention that my father had a heart attack at age 45 and had quadruple bypass surgery. Yes, I have Estrogen on my side, but still. Good to check out the blood–see what’s going on in there.  Because KP is very efficient, they’ve already sent back my CBC.  Looks normal to me, but I’m not a doctor–I just play one at home.

Yesterday I met Melissa Lion for tea at the coffee place in Portland where (apparently) all the lezzies hang out.  I didn’t know this until I got there and Melissa and I both noticed how many were there with their lezzie clothes and lezzie shoes.  Melissa doesn’t have good gaydar, but luckily I do, so we were able to pick them out quite easily. We had fun.  I got a little high from the caffeine of the loose tea and Melissa told me to take the little basket of tea out of the pot, which was a good thing because by that time the tea was blacker than any coffee I’d ever had.  We gossiped about the people that we work with, except that we don’t work together, but if we did work together forty hours a week, we would gossip all of the time and it would be really great.

Then after the tea and the lezzie gazing and the gossip I went to my non-shrink therapist to have my head examined.

Wow.  That was fun.   She said that we took out a lot of things to examine and that maybe I have some un-resolved guilt about not being with my children all of the time and that perhaps I need to tell those voices in my head who is boss around here anyway.  And that will be $95.00 please, shall we make another appointment for next week?  Of course.  Because I’m having an overhaul and I need all of my parts checked out.

I’m trying something new for anxiety (drug, that is.)  Part of the being in charge of the voices in my head thing.  I don’t really hear voices, it’s a figure of speech.  It’s kind of like there is a board meeting going on in my head all of the time and sometimes I forget who the chairwoman is.  My anxiety interferes sometimes and I get, well, anxious.  I don’t want to take anything addictive (nice as that may be,) so my nice new doctor gave me something else that may help.  Or make me crazy, only time will tell.

Speaking of anxiety.  I was having tea at Starbucks with my new friend Wendy this morning before my girlie exam and my ex-husband was there.  Lucky for me, I didn’t see him until he was leaving.  He’s one of the people at the board meeting in my head and someday soon I’m going to figure out how to fire and kindly ask him to collect his personal belongings and leave the premises.  I’ll need a few more sessions with my non-shrink to do that I think.  Or maybe just a few more tea’s at the lezzie coffee shop with Melissa Lion to gossip.  Or both.  We’ll see.

Right now I’m going to overhaul my laundry basket and show that laundry who’s in charge around here, (HG,) and take my kid to her indoor soccer game and color Easter Eggs and maybe my hair.  Then I will slip into my bed with my beautiful wife and get up tomorrow and overhaul some more things in my life.  Like my taxes.  Good times.  Just part of the Homosexual Lifestyle you’ve all heard about.

Jealous much?

Overwhelmed

overwhelmed

• bury or drown beneath a huge mass
• defeat completely
• give too much of a thing to (someone)
• inundate

I haven’t been able to stop crying today, everything brings me to tears and all I want to do is go to bed and stay there for about six hours.

Motherhood prevents this.

I’m overly hormonal, completely overwhelmed and feel just a bit desperate, not able to see a light in my fog.

There have been some great changes in my life lately, I LOVE school, and I’m doing very well, learning a lot already and it’s only week 2.

All of the other changes are exasperating me right now. I’m not quite sure how to put myself on the right track and I am feeling a bit alone in trying to problem solve. I could get in to a whole bunch of little things that are adding up to one big great feeling, but really there is no point. Some people have big problems, some people have little ones, right now I have a few of each and when they all get piled on to one big heap, it gets a little bit heavy; especially when it’s on top of me.

Sometimes I have expectations that don’t work out, and sometimes I over extend myself, my time, and my money. I do this for several reasons; generosity and guilt among others. I want to give my children and my wife every thing I can, do things for them, celebrate our lives and sometimes I get in a little over my head.

I know people do, it’s just life.  However, viewing it from the perspective of  it all piled up around you, makes it hard to look out and see a solution that is (probably) there.

Yuck. I hate doing the downer blog post, it’s really not attractive. With that said, this is one of the reasons I do blog; because it’s my therapy, because writing it out (sometimes) puts things in to perspective, and because it’s just what I do.

I am grateful for blogging, and I am grateful for all of the nice blog friends that I have, who I know will say something nice to make me feel a wee bit better. And hopefully, tomorrow, I’ll have something much more fun to write about.

How I got screwed, and it cost me $15,000.00

Spoke to my pastor the other day. Well, I don’t go to church anymore, but she’s still my pastor. She gave me some deep theological advice that she knew to be true about the universe.

She told me, “Shit happens.”

I guess she’s right.

On Tuesday I was on my way to a court hearing and I saw a rainbow in the middle of a rainstorm. I took it to mean that perhaps “the powers that be” were giving me a sign of strength and love and hope for a positive outcome. The court hearing didn’t go my way. The judge ruled by the law, but it still didn’t seem right or fair. I felt that “the powers that be” lied.

But I suppose that shit just happens.

And fair is something you pay on a bus.

The legal aspects of getting a divorce really sucks. Even years later, it still sucks and there is just no getting around all of that. At my hearing I had the opportunity to listen to another hearing prior to ours; the pain, the frustration, the loss of a hope of something that turns into a battle over money and property. To try to discern these battles, a person must wade their way through confusing rituals and rules and regulations that no one really understands, and the only people that win are the lawyers. I have nothing against most lawyers, I realize that their jobs are very difficult and they are working within an imperfect system, it must be daunting holding that kind of responsibility to another person, and I realize that they are human and make mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes; those are forgivable. Not attempting to remedy those mistakes, is not forgivable.

Here’s a short little story about mistakes, how the law isn’t fair, and how some lawyers really give other lawyers a really bad name.

Fifteen months ago I had to respond to a summons served on me by my former spouse, and I hired an attorney to represent me. I may have found her in the PDX Gay and Lesbian Yellow Pages, her last name might be O’Reilly, (as in Bill.) Her first name may or may not start with an E, (as in Eileen.) I interviewed her, she seemed quite competent, all was well. We went to court and between the two attorneys, myself and the other party, we decided on terms to settle the dispute. It was read on the record, the terms drawn up by the attorney that was not mine. And that is when the problems began.

I objected to one of the items in the draft document that was not discussed during the hearing and extraneously added after the fact. I noted my objection to this term in writing to my attorney. I followed up with a reminder that I had sent that objection. I didn’t hear anything from her for awhile, I inquired several times (in writing,) regarding the status of the judgment. I was ignored for two months, despite many e-mails and phone calls. When I finally did get in touch with my lawyer she informed me that the judgment had been filed (I had not seen the final copy,) and when I reviewed it, the item that I had objected to was still there. And not only was it still there, it was even more financially exaggerated. I objected again, in writing. She assured me she would look into it. I continued to inquire about this issue, questioning how this happened, asking (demanding) that is be corrected. After fourteen inquiries in writing, including a certified letter, I gave up. It was obvious that my attorney had ignored my case, allowed items to be included that I did not agree to, did not review the document prior to it’s filing, did not allow me to review the document prior to it’s filing, did not sign the document prior to it’s filing, did not communicate my objection to the opposing attorney, did not notify me the status of the filing of the document, and upon realizing these things, ignored me, placated me by telling me she would take care of it, all along hoping I would just go away and forget about it.

I hired a new attorney. My objective was to set aside that issue that I did not agree to, have the paperwork re-drawn reflecting what was actually agreed to and stated that day in court. I wanted nothing more than what we all agreed to that day. Nothing more.

In the meantime, I filed a complaint with the Oregon State Bar Association against my attorney, the proverbial Eileen O’Reilly. In her response to my complaint, Eileen O’Reilly miraculously had a sudden memory of my verbally agreeing to the terms that I had continuously objected to, before and after the filing of the judgment. Suddenly we had long phone conversations regarding this issue where she repeatedly reminded me that I had indeed agreed to said terms that day in court. Suddenly she had notes that had been “in storage” reflecting this said agreement, despite the fact that for six months, she had not mentioned any of this, and I knew it not to be true. So oh, well. She’s now incompetent and a liar. I wasn’t going to worry about it until I had to answer more questions from the Bar, and I knew that I had ample evidence that showed my my continuous, un-relenting position of what it was I had agreed to and my incessant attempts to communicate with her. She hired a lawyer to represent her in the complaint. Okay, that sucks for her, perhaps if she had done her job, and fixed her mistake? Not really my problem. Or was it?

Unbeknownst to me, when one files a complaint against any proverbial attorney, all submitted information regarding the case, regardless of it’s personal nature, becomes a matter of public record. This fact would not have dissuaded me from filing my complaint but imagine my surprise when the attorney for my ex-attorney appeared at my hearing to state that Eileen O’Reilly did not agree with my affidavit to support my motion. Well, duh. If she agreed with my affidavit then she would be admitting that she’s a big fat incompetent liar and who’s going to do that in open court?

The judge heard my request for relief from the judgment and ruled that I was bound to the decisions of my attorney. I am bound to the decisions of my attorney, despite the fact that her lack of attention to my case will cost me in excess of $15,000.00 over the next fourteen years, including what I have paid both of my attorneys.

Shit happens?

I suppose it does.

And that my friends is a little story that is not a fairy tale, and is very unfortunately true. Names were not changed to protect the innocent, because no one who’s name was mentioned is innocent and besides, everything I stated here is a matter of public record.  My hope is that someday I will realize a greater truth and lesson from this confusing, stressful, and anxiety filled ordeal that I have endured for over a year.

No. I’m not bitter. I don’t think all lawyers are bad, just the one I had, and I don’t even think that she is bad, I think she made a mistake. And then she lied.

There are lawyers that I like.

A few of them read this blog. One of them is my nice new lawyer who actually answers my questions and pays attention to my case. I also like several others:

Bill

Al

John Grisham

Duh, the greatest lawyer ever.

And that is all that I have to say about that. I’m putting it behind me, and readying myself for a lovely holiday season with my beautiful family.

Because sometimes shit happens.

And when it does,

make fruitcake.

Okay.  I wrote a cute little post about how we’re heading out on our trip here soon, and we are.  The plan today was to take a nap between the hours of 3-7, get up, get ready and go to catch our red-eye flight to Guadalajara, then Mexico City, then Puerto Vallarta.  We’ll be there by noon Saturday.

Couldn’t nap.  So now we’re sitting here watching Dr. G, (well, HG is watching, I’m blogging and surfing.) And now.  As I wait to get ready to go.  The anxiety is setting in.

We have been SO DAMN busy this week that I feel like I have been operating on Adrenaline, coffee, Halloween candy, and Tylenol.  Everything on our lists have been crossed off and now as we wait to go to this vacation that we planned a year ago, I can’t help but feel a heaviness in my chest.

I totally realize that it’s safer for me to travel than it is for me to go to Safeway, but when you’re packing up and leaving the country for a week, it’s difficult to not think of bad things that could happen.

I could die in a plane crash.  Be abducted by terrorists, thrown in a Mexican prison.  What if something happens to one of my children?  To Ginger?

My children.

I hate telling them goodbye and thinking about missing them so much.  I hate thinking of them missing me.  Yesterday DD#1 said that she was feeling anxious about everything that she had to remember to do, and the fact that she wasn’t going to have a Mommy next week, (Hello Guilt?  I’m Kathryn, nice to meet you.)  Of course I have their entire schedule typed up on a Master Schedule with copies to half the world, but apparently DD#1 was worried.  The girls will be well looked after by their Grammy, and my friend Stacy, and their dad of course.  They won’t even realize I’m gone?

We took our Powers of Attorney to be notarized today, our Wills are in place, our Advanced Directives signed, all of that stuff.  My mom has copies of our passports, the school has been notified, emergency contacts updated, lunches paid for, clothes cleaned for the girls, DD#3 is packed for the week.  Really, I took care of everything.

The house sitter comes tomorrow, the dogs will be taken care of, and I.

I just need to relax and go have a great time with my wife.

My wife.  Rocks.

She is the one who takes us on these trips, these fabulous adventures that we are so, so, lucky to be able to go on.  She loves to travel and see and do things, and I am happy to oblige her and be her travel companion.

She.

Is the center of my life and the single most incredible person I have ever met.  She makes everything special in my life.  Everything.  Even if it is something simple she does it for me in such a wonderful and loving way.

She never takes me for granted, she never takes advantage of me in any way, she never holds things against me or uses my short-comings as ammunition in an argument.  She respects and loves me, even the things she may not “like” about me so much, (like my lack of laundry skills.)

She is amazing.

Often times I will think about her, even if she is sitting right next to me, and suddenly my heart will jump and flutter.  I will feel the love that I have for her burn inside of my chest and down through my stomach, down my legs.  My body gets consumed with love and desire for her.

And I.  Get to be with that wonderful woman, for an entire week, in a Mexican paradise, (and unlimited cocktails!)

God.  My life is good, and that makes me feel grateful and abundant and okay.

Okay?

All will be well in the world for the next nine days, and when I return, I’ll be wondering what the hell I was so worried about, (and wishing I was leaving again!)  One more hour, we’ll be on our way; I think I’m okay now, and of course, I have blogging to thank.  Once again.

Until I return, Ciao!

Be the change

that you want to see in the world.

It’s fucking exhausting.

Despondency

Phrases sometimes get me through the toughest times.  One of my very best favorites is a line from A Course in Miracles, and it says,

“Every act is an expression of love, or a call for love.”

What that means is that no matter what it is, a person is either showing their love or needing to be loved.  Seems simple, doesn’t it?  Application in thinking is a bit harder.

Today I have been calling for love.  Sometimes in a not so pretty way.  But that is what I’ve been doing.