I’m bored now, but earlier I typed a couple of letters and played Balistic. I need a new project. Something new and exciting that’ll take me a while to do.

Tammy left a message saying she was just calling to say hi. She would never call to just say hi, so she probably has some computer questions.

I’m getting nervous about Tom’s upcoming vacation. I’m afraid all we’ll do is fight no matter how hard we try not to.

When I look at this man there’s so much love I feel, but there’s also so much anger. I just try to remind myself that I’m sure he tried to find a way to tell me the truth, but he just doesn’t have the heart to break my heart and no one should be forced into being a father or a mother if it’s not what they want. I must continue to accept that just cuz I can’t have the things I want, doesn’t mean there’s not something else out there just as fulfilling.

We had sex yesterday which was a bore. I didn’t cum cuz I had taken care of myself earlier due to thinking he wouldn’t bring it up.

He says his favorite time for sex is in the mornings, but his actions show me he likes it at the end of his day. It’s safer that way. That way he’s more tired so he can hold back.

I know now that Tom and God are only trying to protect me. I’ve been praying steadily the prayer I wrote a few pages back. This way I can feel close to him and that he loves me cuz I’m praying for what’s correct for me.

There are two things out of the many things that Tom’s been all talk and no action that I’m truly grateful for and that’s that he doesn’t wake me up when I’m asleep for sex as he said he would. He’ll also never read my stories which saves me lots of embarrassment. I told Tom that if I die to give my original journals to Andy. Andy will read them, but Tom wouldn’t, so I guess it’d be best for those books to go to someone who’ll read them and get a big kick out of them. The only other person in this world who might want to read these would be Tammy, but I don’t think she’d have the time.

I’m gonna go leave Andy a message unless he answers.

Later...

I can’t believe it took me 30 years to learn that the word instrament is spelled instrument when it applies to a musical instrument!

Andy’s been on the phone for quite a while, but I left him a message. He’s probably talking to Quinn.

Karson hasn’t called which is fine with me. I admire her respect whereas Fran would keep calling people who didn’t want to hear from him, no matter what. I’m still amazed he doesn’t call periodically. He must’ve lost my number and forgotten my married name.

I guess now’s as good a time as any to write more about my life. I’ve thought of such subjects to get into such as places I’ve lived in, health situations and accidents I’ve been in, goals that are both current and past, friends and enemies I’ve had and people I couldn’t be with that I once wanted very much to be with.

There’s not much to say in the way of goals since these have pretty much been a joke for me. I’ve always wanted to be a singer. I didn’t start wanting to be a mom till I was about 24 and then after I left the NHA when I was 26 it went away till I met Tom. I should visit a place like the NHA daily cuz this not only may bring back bad memories, but it’ll surely help me get over never having a kid much easier.

Up till I was about 10, I used to also want to be an actress, but I haven’t wanted to be since then, even though, if a legit deal came my way, I wouldn’t necessarily turn it down.

I had thought about working with the deaf since I’m fluent in sign language, but there’s so much more needed for that than just knowing how to sign. There are extra credentials required like experience working with all different kinds of people, other degrees, etc. Nowadays, I’d just prefer to have a deaf friend to sign with for the fun of it as signing is fun.

Other than wanting to be a singer and a mom which cannot be, I just have to have confidence that I’ll find something just as fulfilling and productive. Like I said, I may wonder why God hates me at times, but I know deep down he’s just looking out for my best interest and loves me enough to protect me. Therefore, I have faith in him that he won’t just let me wander around aimlessly forever. He’ll make sure I cross paths with something. Meanwhile, I know that as long as I keep praying for him to continue protecting me from pregnancy and stuff like that, that I know would hurt me, and that I’d be lousy at, and to help me find something correct for me, I’ll be on his good side for sure.

Let’s move on to the health and accident department. Well, I’ve been lucky for the most part, but I’ve been through enough hell as well. Besides typical colds and flues, I’ve had to deal with asthma and allergies for the most part. I outgrew my asthma till a few years after I began smoking and I began smoking when I was 13. From about September 1990 to early 1993 was when I went through hell with my asthma, having attacks that nearly killed me. It was a constant living nightmare that I never thought I’d be free of. It had me in such a grip that this alone made me wish I was dead plenty of times.

When I was about 9, I had double viral pneumonia and was hospitalized for two weeks in New London, CT with it since it happened while we were at our summer home at the beach in Old Lyme, CT.

When I was around that same age, I was spending a few weeks at Jenny C’s house in Huntington, MA where I went over the handlebars of my bike and wound up with 60 stitches in 4 layers in my chin.

I also banged my pinky finger and my knee doing gymnastics. I got my pinky sprained on the vault and sideswiped my knee on the beam.

I was born with no outer ear on my left side and no canal or hearing. All I had was a tiny portion of the lobe. It took 15 operations in the 70s in Boston to build the outer ear out of plastic surgery. The first 8 operations were in-patient, and the rest were out-patient. Back then they had no CAT scans and was told I’d never hear out of that ear.

Then, in 1994 it took two operations to build an ear canal and in the second operation, the frame was taken off cuz it was causing major sensitivity. Both operations were out-patient. It’s amazing how it took 15 operations where I had to stay a few days to build the frame and it took only one to remove it in 10 minutes when I was home that same day. That ear doesn’t hear half as well as the other, but some hearing is better than none and music sounds pretty neat with headphones on.

The rest of my medical ordeals were self-inflicted. I began cutting my forearm as a sick way to release my pressures which became rather addicting at around age 8. That escalated over time but stopped when I was 17 after I jumped out of a window and broke my upper right arm. That was the most painful thing I ever experienced, aside from wild cramps due to the DES, and that deterred me from suicide attempts, even though I’ve thought about it many times.

I also began starvation diets when I was around 10 and that nearly killed me twice. It began when I was at the beach and didn’t eat or drink for 3 days. When I awoke on the third day, I couldn’t raise my head off of the pillow. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the kitchen was 3 feet away from where I’d slept, I’d have died as my mother couldn’t care less. Her attitude was, “You did it to yourself; you correct it.” It took me nearly 8 hours to muster up the strength and determination to grab a devil dog, then 10 minutes to open and eat it, then another hour or two to get up and shower.

This really messed up my stomach and I’d have diarrhea without even knowing it. It was so gross and embarrassing, but I’d be right smack in the middle of the beach when all of a sudden this brown stuff would be running down my legs. I don’t know who I was madder at. Me for doing this or at my mother for not helping me. Would she have left me to die if I could never have gotten to the cupboard for that Devil Dog? I’ll always wonder about this and it’s a scary question.

I’d have times when I’d not eat here and there, but I always made sure I had plenty of liquids. When I was 16, I became seriously anorexic. A lot of it wasn’t just that I wouldn’t eat cuz I thought I was fat, but I was going through such a hellish ordeal that I just couldn’t eat and the second foster mother I was with wouldn’t feed me that much at all.

When I was around 14, two years before what I just wrote about happened, I overdosed on pain and sleeping pills. Luckily, though, I never needed my stomach pumped.

Before I get into more detail about my life, I think I’ll describe all the places I’ve lived in and that’s omitting any foster homes or funny farms I’ve been in for now.