SUNSHINE

The Tulips are blooming finally, goddamnit!  

The sun has been shining for two days, and it does wonders for my mood.

There was wine and papa and Noah today.  Sword fights and soccer as well.
It was nice to sit outside with Ben and just be.

Ben and I played strip Uno last night.  I won for a while, but Ben prevailed and took my clothes before bed.

In the end, we both won.  He threw me on the bed and took me until I'm sure we were scaring the neighbors.

Ben is under a little stress (or a fucking lot), as the restaurant is undergoing some changes starting tomorrow.  

I'm trying to not make these changes which don't effect me, affect me.

We went to Pasta Piatti for dinner tonight, and I ate too much, as did Ben.

I was kind of unsatisfied and wanted more to do.  There is nothing to do in Ashland.

We walked for a few minutes, saw Dave and Nolan briefly (eating sushi).  

Dave was drinking warm sake which kind of made me cringe.  Warm sake is not good sake.  
Ben said I was being a know-it-all.  Maybe I was, but I do know a lot about sake.

We drove home and were here by nine.  Perhaps we're getting old.

Tomorrow I don't work.  I'll catch up on laundry and vacuuming, as well as dishes.

And I'll research and write as well.

It's good to be calm, normal, and exceptionally happy.

I'm looking forward to going to bed with Ben again tonight.

GO BACK TO MEDICATION!!!

I know you think medication is going to "save me" and help my family.  That seems to be a valid idea, judging by the circumstances.  However, there's something you should know.

I did not stop taking medication against my psychiatrist's treatment plan.  I have to get that out there.  The only thing I did differently is that I stopped completely and did it cold turkey.  The withdrawl was unbearable, but necessary.  The reason it had to happen so quickly is because I moved back to Oregon, and my psychiatrist was unable to renew my prescription for me.  I had two choices.  I either needed to expedite my end date for taking medication, or I needed to find some county doctor to re-evaluate and medicate me.

Doctors love to change people's medications.  They love making whatever cocktail they can to appease the drug companies who produce them.  I don't want to be their guinnie pig.  No way.  I wasn't about to switch doctors and have them try to give me Seroquel (an  atypical antipsychotic) again.  No way.  

Many people think I have "episodes" and problems coping because I have stopped taking my SSRI.  However, the episodes were more frequent and more severe while on medication.  Stopping the medication has put me in a place where I can control my emotions much better, just as therapy has helped me understand my emotions.  You (you know if I mean you) are only noticing the episode now because you read about it and how painful it is for the first time.  You associated it with medication because you are uninformed.  Here's the information.  Read it, research it, then judge if you must.

First of all, there is no medication to treat OCPD.  There are other mental problems that arise with OCPD such as depression and anxiety, caused by the strife the OCPD person feels each day.  There are medications to treat both anxiety and depression, and they should be used where needed.  However, what do you do if you only have OCPD with transitional anxiety?  I was never depressed.  I should never have been given an SSRI.  There are other illness where medication is required, and when stopping the medication leads to horror stories (such as mood disorders ,Schizoaffective disorder, and others).  Keep in mind as well, that you'll never feel as good as you do after your first hit of SSRI, according to some.

However, America and big business drug companies want to sell their products.  I was given my first cocktail four years ago, without a diagnosis or a way out.  I was given an SSRI for keeping my house too clean.  Strange, isn't it?

My prescription of celexa in the morning and trazodone in the evening left me fuzzy, to say the least.  It's difficult to explain, but I see it like having a bag over my head.  I was unable to see the details because of fuzziness; I could not get excited.  I was not sad and angry.  Very rarely was I motivated to do anything besides the day to day mundaneness of life.  It is a sad reality, really.  However, I tend to take my situation and my surroundings and make the best of it.  So, when I wanted to feel something, I'd get drunk.  Makes sense, right?  Drunk is a feeling.  Right.  When I say I drank a lot, I mean, A LOT.  If you want the amount just ask.

When I spoke with my psychiatrist (a real psychiatrist) for the first time, he was shocked and dismayed that I had been on medication for so long, let alone on meds at all.  His first priority was to get me off medication and into psychotherapy.  He said the medication was hindering, not helping me.  I needed to be in control of my feelings to be able to live with myself and learn about myself.  I thrived with control in my world.  He asked what made me think I could be successful if I couldn't control the one most important human trait: feelings.  That was four months before we moved home to Oregon.

When I was faced with the option of continuing my "drug" addiction to Celexa, or just facing the withdrawl (the scariest part) of stopping, and getting it over with.  That is what my previous blog was referring to.  

I am going to include a page on my blog for you to view which will include various articles and sources regarding medication use for OCPD.  Please research and form your own opinion; after all, I'm just a girl with an illness.  

Episodal Writing

I know Episodal is not a word.  I just can't write the word "psychotic" and relate it to me, let alone my writing.

Definition of Episode: an incident, scene, etc., within a narrative, usually fully developed and either integrated within the main story or digressing from it.

Okay, the god damn dictionary wins tonight, I lose.  Last night I lost, seriously.  I almost lost it all, yet again.

I'm sure you read, and if you did not, I think you should.  I find it amazing!  The clarity of purpose I had last night as I was writing is astonishing to me.  It's almost as if I believed Ben left on his own accord last night.  I almost believed I had done nothing wrong at all, that he was mean and was looking for an excuse to leave me.  I blamed work and lack of time, as well as distrust on what was happening.  I even said I left the situation so I didn't erupt, that I didn't feed it.  Wow, I really justified myself, huh?  Bet you thought Ben was stressed and moody, didn't you?  I can make you believe anything I think is true.  I write my truth, remember?  My truth last night was skewed and distorted.  I was in the middle of an episode.  I have never written before while in the middle of a tantrum.  It's shocking to me to go back and read the words I let so easily fall onto the screen.  

I woke up this morning and thought my right thumb was broken.  Then, I thought it was sprained.  Either way, it is just bruised, no big deal.  The big deal though, is how the fuck did that happen?  I can't remember how I hurt myself.  I was out of my mind and away from my skin last night.

I know many people will blame the fact that I was drinking last night as the reason for my outburst.  I understand why you might assume that, and I can't say it didn't play some role in the chain of events of the evening.  However, I just want to point out the fact that I freak out without cause or reason, sober or drunk, happy or mad.  I haven't found any pattern or rhyme to it.  I know it has to do with control, but in what way?  I can't control Ben's job or his time.  He can't set a schedule for himself and give me absolutes, nor can I ask for it.  Is that the problem?  I really can't figure it out.  

Ben walked in the door when I was getting up to get ready for bed.  He had taken his phone battery out (as we know, because I barely stopped myself from throwing it at him), so I hadn't spoken to him or seen him for an hour or so.  I exhausted all efforts to find him at that point, and I was giving up.  I had called Avalon, called Noah, and sent Susan mean messages again.  He wasn't any of those places.  I thought maybe he had gone to an ex-girlfriend's house or to his new lover's house.  I became angry and enraged (again) the moment I saw him.  I also felt immense relief that he had come home to me.

I pushed him and pushed him.  I demanded to know where he had been.  I accused him of things.  He tried to speak to me rationally, but I was beyond control.  He wanted space, and I was unwilling to give it.  I followed him around the house and berated him.  I, looking back, was verbally abusive toward him.  That wasn't who I wanted to be.  It's never the parter I strive to be.  I just wanted love.  I wanted to feel loved.  I know, though, that no matter what, it wouldn't have been enough.  He could have done everything I was asking him to do, and I would still be fucking crazy.

I finally realized I wasn't going to win.  I went to bed alone.  However, as I walked into our room, I unplugged the wireless router for the computer.  HA!  Now he'd have to come in and see me.  He'd need the computer, right?  Needless to say, he didn't come into our room.  He slept on the couch.  He's too smart to feed into my insecurities and demands when I am having an episode.

Today, when I awoke, I was feeling rather normal.  I wasn't upset with him, I had no accusations.  I just felt guilty and ashamed.  I knew I had been the "crazy girl" again last night.  I hated myself for it.  I woke Ben and had him go to our bed, as I was getting the kids up for the day.  He spoke to me calmly, yet with brutal truth.  I had hurt him.  That Mel, crazy Mel, is not the Mel he loves.  He is afraid of her.  Afraid for himself and for my children.

He did not want to tell me where he had gone last night because it's the only place he has that I can't find him.  He was afraid that if I knew, the next time I had an episode I would wake my kids and drive to him.  He's got a valid point.  It's not beyond what I'm capable of at times like that.  He said he was trying to help and appease me last night, that I kept making ultimatums and putting demands on him.  Each time he'd do what I asked, I make another, more deliberate demand.  I was trying to control him.  In whatever way I could.  Remember how I removed myself from the situation and went into the kitchen?  Well, I neglected to tell you I was screaming the same words (I'm not going to fight!  You're being mean!  I don't want this!) over and over again.  I had removed myself?  right.

Ben left and didn't tell me where he had gone because he knows what to do.  He knows that if he leaves, I'll eventually sleep.  He knows I'll wake up the next day and be "me" again.  So, what the fuck makes me lose it?  I know it's a lack of control, but in what area?  Is it any area I perceive as important at the moment?  Maybe it's a combination of hurt and fear and anxiety, along with a lack of control.  Something puts me over the edge.  That's for damn sure.

I woke this morning and re-read the blog I posted last night.  It's almost frightening how sane and put together my writing seemed to be.  I wasn't sane.  I wasn't put together.  In my mind, however, I was.  Nothing was my fault.  I had a lot of time to think about it while sitting in the ER with Garrett's "W" problem.  Lots of time.

Ben will be home sometime tonight.  Sometime between now and midnight or one or two or.... I can't control that.  I really wish I could though.  At least tonight the house is clean and the kids are in bed, and I'm feeling relaxed and ready to sleep... I think I'm just going to go to bed.

I SHOULD HAVE GONE TO BED

It's not my fault.  Not today.  But he left.  He left again, and I'm here alone.  I think I'm going to write til I'm too drunk or sad to do so anymore.

 Fact is, I had a budweiser with dinner at six thirty tonight.  The boys and I had burgers, soda and a beer, all for the amazing price of six bucks at Bunks Deli.  It was good, actually.  So delicious it was disgusting.  I guess that's what  a hard day's work will do to you.  We came home, watched a couple videos on netflix.  Garrett is dealing with a green pussy swollen "W" right now.  The W stands for WiWi, by the way.  Very exciting in the middle of the work week.  Anyhow, we had a vinegar and peroxide treatment after work, followed by burgers and dessert of our choice from the Mini Market down the road.  A couple videos and off to bed they went.

Me?  During the time I was home, I paced myself, had a couple of "tally beers" until Ben would get home.  He's either home at nine or eleven or whatever.  I just wanted to not be too tired, not too drunk when he walked in the door.  I wanted to make love.  I wanted to connect.  Lucky me, he got home around nine.   Such lovee texts on his way home, such nice words.  When he got here, he proceeded to sit with me and have some wine.  He brought home a couple bottles of italian, and explained how the police had followed him to the grocery store.

We drank a bottle while he shared stories of how his day had gone.  He talked about the new management and the issues at the restaurant.  He spoke about how Susan had been there to work for the day, etc.  He spoke about the stress involved in management.  He spoke and spoke, and I was jealous.  I was jealous of the things happening.  I had questions for him about the till, etc.  I had questions about the employees.  He didn't have answers, as he explained.  The Front of House Duties are not his issue at the moment.  I get it.  But they will be, and in only four days.  He and Susan had spent the day together, awesome.  They spoke about things.  They spoke about things I wasn't involved in, and it took me an hour to take it all in.  It took me an hour to realize how left out I was.

Then, it was my turn.  I told him about Garrett, and his Wi Wi infection, that I needed to take him to the doctor.  Ben asked why I hadn't asked Susan what to do.  Well:

Susan hasn't spoken to me on any real terms or subjects for a couple of weeks now.  The one time she did contact me, it was regarding the money owed for rent due.  It's not like I really wanted to contact her for medical advice.  She seemed to be avoiding me.  I don't need her.  At this point, I opened the second bottle of wine.

Then we went on to my work, how it was.  We never got a chance to talk about my day.  You see, I'm involved in my blog at the moment.  I called Noah today to ask about how to fit a certain video onto my page, and I told Ben about that.  I was excited, I wanted his approval.  All he asked was how I had verified the "Dr's Credentials" of the video I had posted on my blog.  I only wanted his approval, not his evaluation.  I don't have much time for evaluation with him... I only want love.  There's just so little time.

At this point, for some reason, the issues arose.  He was upset that Noah had gone to pizza with me the night he got called into work.  He was upset that Noah came to take his table and had assembled the "guest bed" with me.  He was upset  that Noah was helping me to assemble my blog.  He showed the distrust outright, saying Noah is always there when he is not.  He is jealous.  Whoa.  I said, "It's not like it's some random dude that I work with, it's your brother!"

Oh My Goodness, now the issues intensify.  The questions start in.  Ben starts questioning how much I've been drinking, how many times Noah is texting, he is essentially accusing me of something, though I'm not sure what.  I am upset.  I can't answer as fast as he can ask.... I shouldn't have to.  I shouldn't have to answer to questions that are based on Jealousy and alcohol and stress.  I am feeling the pull.

I ask him where he is sleeping for the night.  It's just not fair.  I have tried so hard, and he is trying to pick a fight with me.  He is so stressed and jealous.  I didn't mean to portray myself in a way that made him jealous.  I didn't mean to.  I know it's him though.  I knew it was coming.  I knew jealousy and stress would take over our lives.

The Avalon will take over our lives; it's inevitable.  Unless we are careful with eachother.

I will do whatever he wants.  I want to be supportive and I want to be understood.

When the shit hit the fan tonight, I went into the kitchen and removed myself.  I said it wasn't my fault, that I didn't want to feed the situation.  I said I didn't want jealousy and stress and money to ruin us.  I knew he would blame me.  He would blame the fact that I'm not on medication to be the cause of my outburst.  However, truth be told, I didn't outburst.  I removed myself, though it was hard.

He walked out the door, he got in his car.  He took his phone battery out of his phone.  I tried to throw it at him.  Instead I dropped it.  I yelled and threw a laundry basket.  Then I ran after him.

He was abandoning me.  He was leaving yet again.  

When he left, I yelled at him.  I said the words, "Is it worth it?!"  He pulled out and then yelled out the window: "Isn't that what you wrote on the window of your ex's car at the bar?  The night he didn't come home?"  

Yep.  That's what I wrote.  I won't and can't be abandoned.  Not again.  Not now.  The Avalon is tearing us apart.  And as much as the "owners" respect our relationship, I don't think it's going to pull us through.  I fucking hope it does though.  I fucking Hope It Does.

DISGUSTED, BUT I CAN'T TURN AWAY

Dirty Goose, two olives please.  Yes, that's what I like after a hard day at work.  It's not that it was very difficult, it was just that one man I had the pleasure of serving first thing in the morning.  Apparently if you serve a vegan man yogurt his stomach gets upset.   Not my fault he didn't read the menu or tell me he was vegan.   I offered him immodium, took the damn smoothie off the check and gave him the boss man's email address.  I'm sure I'll be spoken to about it, but I did all I could do to remedy the situation.  I worked my shift, made it through and went straight toward my favorite stop in for a dirty goose, two olives.

While sitting there, sipping away and swirling the olives around in circles deciding the best time to eat them, I was slightly glued to the gigantic television on the wall.  It was tuned to "Hoarders, Buried Alive."  There were pictures of obese people standing in their kitchens surrounded by old food and garbage piled high toward the ceiling.  The music  in the background and the geriatric conversation looming in the room wasn't enough to make me feel soothed.  I felt disgusted, but I couldn't avert my eyes.  I looked around the room and noticed many others were entranced by the devastation of a home on the 50 inch screen.

Did you know that many people with OCPD are "hoarders"?  Yes, the majority of them have that trait.  However, there is another, less persistent trait, which is throwing everything away.  I'm glad I have found myself in the latter of the two extremes.  Ben has been very helpful in this area, as well.  He brings up the fact that the children won't feel secure if I get rid of things when they're not home; that they'll always be afraid of the things they love disappearing.  Fair enough, I had never thought of it that way.  I keep the black trash bags in the back of the drawer, out of reach.  It seems to help.

People like disgust.  People like it because it makes them feel better about their own lives.  People like it because it's real.  People like and appreciate realness, even if they don't or can't admit it.  I realize this now, and why it's challenging for me in regard to my blog entries. 

I know I have an inner editor, or conscience, if you will.   I have 80 drafts written in my blog, waiting to be looked at and published.  However, the inner editor in me keeps me from hitting the button to make the piece of writing available to you.  I'm afraid I'll hurt feelings.  Here's the deal though, I HAVE to publish them.  I have to, because it's what I set out to do when I first set out to write as a form of therapy.  I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I might, and I'm only apologetic in the sense I can't apologize for it.  I'm hoping though, that however disgusted you may be, you will still read.  I want to capture you and show you truth and realness.  I can apologize for my lack of emotion and realness in a few of my previous posts.  I hope they were still good read for you.  

As my posts become more frequent, I'm going to ask that you post comments only on the blog pages, anonymously.  There is always a link.  I realize many of you read via Facebook, and that's great.  Please don't comment or send me messages via Facebook.  It will be too difficult for me to continue writing when I am cautious because of something you may have said to me.  

What would you like to know?  Do you have questions for me?  What can I answer for you?  Let me know, please.  I know there were questions and misconceptions regarding OCPD vs. OCD, and I will answer those soon, possibly this evening.  Please understand, I don't have OCD.  These are two completely different mental illnesses, though they have many of the same traits.

Oh, and for the guy that drank the yogurt smoothie, tell me:  Was the aftermath disgusting or what!?

Anonymous Letter to You Know Who

There is resentment, of course there is. I know there is resentment in your household as well. Partners are meant to work together as a team, and when that opportunity is taken away it leaves jealousy and hurt in its wake.

I have a history of a rather successful working relationship with Ben, but our working relationship was never up for discussion. I believe plans were made previous to any negotiations or resume views. It's okay, too. Each business owner creates the environment they want. That's the joy of being a business owner; THAT is the joy I will achieve one day. I know Ben and I will become successful in business together, even if now is not the time for it.

When John and Elise came over for a bit yesterday, the conversation at the table was inevitably "restaurant" talk. Not just any restaurant though. It was your restaurant, of course. I realized for the first time that family doesn't exist anymore. I mean, it does, but there will never be a conversation that does not somehow relate to the restaurant. Family get togethers and big dinners will never be the same. Family and business has been placed on the same level.

What's the big deal? I'm sure you're asking. Well, it's not a big deal, except that it is. The problem is this: Those of us who have no involvement (either through our fault or through no fault of our own) have possibly lost the "family" connection. No longer are we included in discussions, no longer are we taken seriously. No longer are we involved in the largest family function of the year. Maybe I'm speaking only for myself, or maybe I'm able to put into words what other people are afraid to.

There are three essential reasons this is taxing on me and my emotional state on a constant basis. The first is that I was trying and working very hard on building a family connection that I have always missed. The second is that I feel like I'm not being taken seriously on a professional level. The third and most important is this: It feels like Sheep Ranch and your wedding all over again. I was not uninvited, I just wasn't welcome there. It was crushing. I replay that situation and the resentment of that day, simply because it feels so much the same. I have the same raw emotion toward this situation.

Honestly, I'm excited to be involved in something other than the restaurant. It feels okay, though not overwhelmingly wonderful, to be on my own in this big world. However, I'd be excited to have something to talk to Ben and my family about; something besides the restaurant I'm not involved in.

Perhaps if I was taken seriously, if I were regarded as a professional by my family, it would be easier. Perhaps if I wasn't an emotional mess, it would be easier on me. However, maybe I'm right. Maybe my feelings are validated. I am insecure.

Maybe our family could get together for dinner and make a pact to not talk about the restaurant. I wonder how that would go. It would make for a nice blog entry, at any rate.

Drug Addiction and SSRIs

Have you ever withdrawn from an SSRI? I have. Twice now, with deliberation to break the cycle. It's funny, too, because doctors will swear by the drug, making you think everything will be easier on it. Sure, life is a bit easier. The first few days of a new SSRI feels strange and discombobulating. Maybe you lose a few pounds or get some great sleep, something of that nature. Of course you keep with it, hoping the "feel good effects" are real-life things, and that they'll surface sooner rather than later. The effects do kick in, however they do so gradually, so you never really know if you're just feeling better or if the drug is really helping.

That is, until you stop taking the drug. Maybe your prescription ran out, or maybe you were just curious.

Yep, two days off the drug you never knew you needed, and you feel like shit. Crying spells, rapid heart rate, night-sweats, brain quakes (don't worry, I'll explain), crying spells and anger fits. Sounds like fun, huh? After two days of thinking craziness and depression has seeped back in to your life, you go back to the "temporary fix drug", and just continue taking it, because it's easier that way. Taking an SSRI after a few days without it feels like bliss. I imagine it is the same type of "fix" a heroin addict has when they shoot up. It feels good. Though it's prescribed, I'm realizing it's a drug. I'm realizing I have an addiction.

Here's the deal: I'm a clean freak as well as control freak, and I have to have everything in my world in perfect order. That's why I'm a drug addict. I'm an SSRI addict. Pretty silly, huh? I know a lot of people would LOVE to have the disorder I have. They would LOVE to have a psychiatrist tell them, "You're fine, you're just a perfectionist."

Sounds pretty simple, but it isn't. I turned to medication because my control issues caused me to have no control over my life or my well-being. Strange, I know. However, there was a point three years ago that I wasn't able to cook dinner for my children because my fridge was dirty. True story. It was then I discovered SSRIs. They have been beneficial. However, they are long overused.

I haven't been able to get ahold of my hundred-dollar-an-hour-i-know-everything-you-don't-have-to-be-on-meds-forever-psychiatrist for over two weeks now to refill my prescription. I quit cold turkey and have been living in a shitting-myself-brain-shaking-inside-my-skull-like-a-10.1 magnitute-earthquake-world for twelve days. The shaking is almost over now. Today was a good day.

Ben asked me what I was going to do about medication. I said, "nothing". Yes, I am going to do nothing. I don't want to be a drug addict, a slave to SSRIs forever, and I'm almost out of the worst of it. If my world turns upside down, I'll make a different move and seek out treatment. However, a little OCD could be beneficial. Perhaps I can use it to my advantage now that I am more educated in the way my mind works.

I have approximately 22 trazodone pills left. I have no refills on them either, and I am not sure a tranquilizer is what I need either. That's a whole other story, and a whole other drug addiction. However, I'm willing to rise to the battle and take over my mind and body. I can at least try.

In the meantime, tomorrow is going to be a good day, and I'm going to go clean the windows before bed. Good night. Just kidding, about the windows of course!

I Have Talent

The new house is great. It's a duplex, actually, but it feels like a house. Actually, it feels like home. I like the layout, the color on the walls. I like the yard and the cabinetry in the kitchen. I like to office and the bathtub. Okay, home. I'll call it home. I can stay here awhile, at least. That's more than I can usually say. So, home it is.

My home on a quiet u shaped street, in the middle of a little tiny town. Tiny, yes, but there's a Walmart here. It's convenient, but strange. I drive to Ashland two to three times a day. Not a big deal, it's eight to twelve minutes for me. Ben goes to the Avalon, which is less than a half mile. Man, his world is small right now, in Talent. However, he saves on Gas, right?

Ben and I have two cars; registered, insured, and running. We have money in the bank, an office and a yard. We have everything we need.

They boys, well... Garrett is loving his school. He, however, has few friends that seek him out as a playmate at recess and such (though he is popular and the kids like him). Problem is, he likes to play ninjas, etc. He doesn't play basketball or other sports, really, and that's what the other kids do. I try to be supportive of him being his own person. There isn't much other than that I can do, really. He is way ahead in his education at this point (after going to a California school), and is a little bored, but excited to be reading at a fourth grade level. He knows what viscous is, and taught me again today. He sits at the counter of my restaurant three times a week and reads, while he eats a grilled cheese sandwich and converses with the staff. He is well ahead of his years.

Nate hates his "boring" school with his "mean" teacher. Quite frankly, I don't like it either. They play video games and the other children are quite abnoxious. Each day he cries and I have to bribe him to get out of the car. When that doesn't work, I yank him and run away quickly as I leave him in the doorway. It sucks, but it's cheap. He has paramount control issues, over his body mostly, and ADD/ADHD is always in the back of my mind. Dr. Delgado will see him soon, which is great. Dr. Delgado delivered him, and will make a great family doctor.

My job: I have to learn to delegate more. I have to keep my focus on saving my steps. I know I can learn it all, but I have to patient with myself and give myself the allowance of a learning curve. It's difficult for me to be on a learning curve. I struggle with not being the BEST. I'll get there. I begin supervising soon. I miss sake though, let me just say. I know a tremendous amount about sake, and I feel like it's a waste with me not using my knowledge.

Ben. Well, Ben is working a ton. He took over the jobs of three people, and it's taxing on him. Lucky for me, he is good at working hard, and he keeps a positive outlook. He moves forward, as we all do. He moves with grace and ease, or seems to. What we lack in time we have in love, and we know it will pay off in the end.

The kids love to hang with Suzu and Papa and uncle Nolan, too. It's good to be near family. Noah is great as well, with helping the family out.

So, long story short, we live well and we will prosper. We have the foundation of a new beginning, and are moving in a positive direction, all of us.

It's not easy, and as much as I'd like to vent (and I will possibly in the near future), I just wanted to shed some light on what we are doing and how we are.

My family is strong, and I am thankful each and everyday that we are together and moving in the right direction.