The Well is Deep, the Water is Cold

Oh, how I wish I could just plug this thing into my brain, sometimes, & let the words fall out to the screen. Typing them out seems to lose something in the translation.

I really want to go “stream of consciousness”…but I’m afraid I’d end up with the police at my door doing a “wellness check” in the middle of the night because of it.

Yeah, there are dark corners in my cranium that should probably remain unexplored.

And, around me, there sits a deep well of silence that keeps growing deeper and wider. The darkness wraps around me like a lover, only cold. Like the dead.

Fair weathers pop up every now and again, with platitudes & cliches…I smile tightly and nod my head once in acknowledgment of their words. It’s maybe well-meant, but they don’t get it. They have no clue what depression is, or they wouldn’t spit their *insert eye-roll* armchair opinions at me.

So, I retreat again, going back into my silence. Both at work and at home, only speaking when absolutely necessary, or to maintain the facade of reasonable health.

Fuck ’em, it’s none of their damned business.

They don’t really seem to care anyway.

Relagating them back to the “friendly acquaintance” circle.

Which is ok. They don’t have to be my friend. It’s not a requirement. And I don’t hold it against them.

But – there is a loss of privileges with the movement to a further circle.

A loss of trust and friendly intimacy. A definite loss of sharing.

They will be the ones who, when they ask “how are you?” Will get the reply “I’m fine”. End of.

Nothing more than surface.

And then…there’s the anomaly of this blog.

Sometimes I speak so raw & honestly here, my soul bleeds out onto the screen.

Other times, I’m so hitting the delete button time and time again, editing myself for fear of exposure.

And yet…the only one who really gets it, is so far away I’d have to hop a plane to get a hug.

Just to reiterate, for the nervous, I don’t want to die, nor would I ever commit suicide.

But, lately, and for a while now…I just want to lie down, fall asleep, and not wake up.

Maybe that’s why I spend so much time with my face buried in my Kindle, or in my gaming. I want to escape so hard from the reality that is my life, I’ll take the path of least resistance & throw myself down the rabbit hole.

I’m avoiding everything else so hard, I just can’t deal, right now. It hurts, like sandpaper on my skin.

Facing dead-end relationships, knowing there’s no hope, no future. An ex trying to contact me again, harassing me with “anonymous” phone calls & whiny emails. Stress and heartbreak, so I’m closing those doors & compartmentalizing that for some time later down the road. Or maybe never.

I haven’t decided yet.

And thise fair weathers? Those “friendly acquaintances”? I can tell that I’m not their friend, nor do they consider me such.

How?

I receive no phone calls, no texts, no visits – just for shits and giggles.

There are no invitations to anything. Unless it’s the odd birthday get-together at the bar after work, which I do sometimes try to go, but I don’t really drink, anymore, because of my medications, nor do I really enjoy it, anymore. I’m just kind of over the “bar bingo” thing. I certainly don’t get invited to join them when they all go out somewhere for lunch. Who wants to invite the woman who’s allergic to half the menu?

I don’t get included in, or asked to participate in, their little clique conversations.

Oh, I used to try. I’d initiate conversations, try to find things to discuss in common, try to arrange outings other than the bar…

And…it would dwindle as soon as I took my foot off the gas. As soon as I stopped attempting to fire up a friendship, the embers would drop to ash & go cold.

I used to let it get to me. It used to bother me quite a bit, and in fact… No, never fucking mind. You don’t get that reaction anymore.

Now, all I have, really, is apathy.

I just don’t fucking care.

About much of anything.

Except my Beloved Nephew, my kids, & my grandbabies.

And the only one that seems to truly need me, is my Beloved Nephew.

Eldestdaughter has her husband.

Youngerdaughter has her boyfriend.

And OnlySon has his father.

Speaking of… Did you know that a few weeks ago, OnlySon asked me to help him pick out good steaks for him to buy – for his father???

You know, because he just wanted to do something nice for his dad…

So, of course, for OnlySon’s sake, I helped him out.

And the selfish, asshole midget inside my brain whispered “And what about all the nice things I do for you, you ungrateful little wretch? When was the last time you did something nice for me…hmm? Oh…NEVER! THAT’S WHEN!”

Irrational anger, short temper, panic episodes, pounding heart, tight chest, shortness of breath, muscle tension, brain fog, lack of focus, general apathy, insomnia, nightmares, frequent migraines, lack of energy, bursts of severely emotional crying states, self-criticism, bouts of staring into space…at nothing, really, for long periods of time, lack of motivation, procrastination, easy tasks that become insurmountable simply because of the depression, severe anxiety, dread…over everything.

This is what lives inside me.

All. The. Time.

Not just right now.

Always.

Some days are better than others.

Some days are bad.

I’ve been having a lot of bad days.

But, I’m starting to feel fictionally inspired by some music I’ve been listening to.

So, there will be horror coming up.

Fictional horror, that is.

The real horror no one wants to deal with. Obviously, as evinced by my silent life.

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Snake Bite!

It’s funny what the cessation of pain can do for your perspective.

And for your attitude.

It’s hard to realize just how much your attitude is affected by pain, until the pain stops.

Now, I’m not normally someone who goes around recommending products for anyone.

I might try new things for myself, say they “work for me” or don’t, or whatever, but I don’t try to tell anyone else whether they should use something or not.

But – I’m breaking that “rule” today.

I’ve also never come right out and publicly endorsed a product on my blog.

I’m doing that today, too.

Any of you who’ve been reading my blog for very long, know that I have rheumatoid arthritis in my hands.

I’ve been seeing a Rheumatologist for a few years now, and get steroid shots in my hands about every 6 months, just to keep the pain at bay. I also take daily anti-inflammatories to keep the swelling down. (My fingers get like little German sausages without them, and sometimes even with taking them – it’s yet another cause of discomfort, pain)

There is also a prescription gel that I have that’s supposed to help with pain. It does…a very little bit, but not to the extent I need anymore. It’s just not strong enough.

Well, I’ve been putting off going to see my Rheumatologist, because it’s kind of expensive, even with insurance, and I’ve been in a lot of pain. My thumbs, mostly.

Most people don’t realize just how much they rely on their thumbs for everything their hands do.

Pick up a stack of files?

Pressure on your thumb.

Lift a pitcher of juice out of the fridge?

TONS of pressure on your thumb.

Typing, which I do all day for my job, and typing on cell phones. Yes, different motions, but both rely on thumbs.

Getting dressed??? Try it with your thumb taped to the rest of your hand once, just to see what I’m talking about.

Luckily, the worst pain is in my left thumb, and I’m right handed, so at least I can “wipe” myself without pain. Geez.

Ok, so we’ve reviewed why I need pain relief.

Now, here’s the WHAT.

*I’m not getting paid to endorse this, wasn’t asked to endorse it, and the makers have no idea I’m writing this blog post. (I’m sure they have zero clue who I am, so, why would they know what I’m writing?)*

This is CobraZol.

And I’ll tell you right now, I’ve tried at least 4 other “arthritis pain relief” things that did- Zip. Nada. Zilch.

2 different types of daily supplements that were supposed to “boost your immune system, slow degeneration of joints & lessen pain, as well as 2 completely different type of creams. None of them worked – At. All. Binned- all of them.

But, the first time I rolled this stuff on my hands?

THE. FIRST. TIME.

Within 5-10 minutes, I had fucking relief from the pain.

The shoulders-falling, breath-blowing, muscles un-knotting, instant-smile kind of relief.

I found it on Amazon, & decided to give it a shot, after the last stuff I’d tried failed to live up to its hype. (I tried a hemp-derived cbd cream, no joy, & a strong smell, it went in the bin).

The CobraZol wasn’t expensive, just a little under $20 for a 2oz. roll-on bottle, so I figured, if it didn’t work, it wasn’t a big loss, right?

Well, I’ve been using this now since Wednesday night, so – approximately 3&1/2 days, & haven’t had to use my gel once, which is normally used 4 times a day. My hands have felt amazing, just some lingering muscle soreness (which could honestly be the beginnings of carpal tunnel, too, as I’ve been noticing some tingling & numbness in my fingers for about a week or so).

Ok, so, for those who noticed the name of the product. YES, it does mention COBRA.

The list of ingredients are on Amazon, as well as on the bottles, but, here are the main active ones:

Arnica

Capsicum

Rattlesnake venom

Bushmaster venom

Indian Cobra venom

Yes. 3 different types of venom. You read that correctly.

No, I don’t want to hear negative comments.

You see, I’ve done some research on this (I am a Google research nerd, don’t doubt).

I know the benefits of arnica and capsicum, so didn’t have to research those. (Witch, remember? I’ve read up on herbs, tinctures, & homeopathy)

Snake venom being used and useful for pain relief, however, I wasn’t familiar with, so I fucking looked it up. I don’t just buy things because some yahoo on the internet says so.

(Sorry, my mother had some things to say about this, or rather, we had a passive aggressive non-discussion about this, so I’m still a little tender around the mouth)

If you go look, and no, I’m not putting links in here, go look it up yourself if you want to read about the benefits of cobra venom in pain relief, you’ll find that there are many studies being done into how cobra venom, and even black mamba venom, have a better analgesic value than morphine, with fewer side effects.

A BETTER ANALGESIC VALUE THAN MORPHINE WITH FEWER SIDE EFFECTS.

Big pharma’s going to haaaaate that.

But, anywho.

Even if I couldn’t convince my mom that this was worth trying, I did convince many of the women in my office. I even got one of the others to try it, & she was convinced after about 20 minutes, when the pain she’d been having in her back for about a week was seriously reduced, & she had a better range if motion again.

She got on her Amazon account right away & ordered some for herself.

If that’s not a convincing endorsement, then I don’t know what is.

All I know right now, is that CobraZol works for me. The pain is so much less, which makes me feel better, & brings my mood up.

And lately? Anything that can bring my mood up is pretty much gold.

If that means snake venom?

Then…bite me.

Hourglass

Life slips away…don’t you know?

It slides right through our fingers, like sand…or water.

It’s so easy for it to slide past us, to wash behind us, and before we even realize it…

Years have gone by.

Oh, but yeah, the memories are there. And they are precious. And treasured.

But when you’re sitting home, alone, with no one to hold, no one to love, to care… At the end of the day.

The sand slips through your fingers like regret burns.

It’s the hazard of the way I’ve lived my life, I guess.

Not to settle for less than love.

Which means I end up alone.

Because the sand in my hourglass is over halfway through, and who wants to invest in that?

Don’t answer. It’s a stupid question.

And I already know the answer, anyway.

I’ve pushed them all away, at some point, so I guess some part of me feels as though I deserve to be alone.

Another year, another measure of sand through that hourglass.

Everyone tells me

“You have to hang onto the good times!” (Live in the past, it’s the only good thing left for you now!)

“There’s someone out there for you, if you stop looking, they’ll find you.” (If I “stopped looking” any harder, I’d poke both my eyes out, honestly.)

And, one of my personal favorites…

“If you’d put yourself out there a little more, smile more, you’d find somebody”. (Just be someone else, anyone else, other than yourself, cause bitch – you depressing!)

You know what? Fuck that.

I’m tired.

If someone is going to love me, they have to love all of it. Anxiety, depression, PTSD, along with the good stuff, the random gift-giving, the snuggling, the back rubs, the kinky sex, the off-color jokes, the random trivia, the insomnia, the random TV & movie obsessions I sometimes get, the odd music I listen to, the love of RPG gaming, all of it. (They don’t have to love my being Pagan, just accept it & not try to change me)

The same as I would have to love all their weird quirks, and learn to live with, or at least compromise with, theirs.

That’s what love is.

It’s NOT about the first flush of passion & the rush of lust that floods your hormones with fire and sparks.

It’s NOT about the lovey dovey eyegasms people give each other from across the room when they first start dating.

And it’s NOT about the giggly phone conversations saying “You hang up”, …”NO, YOU hang up…”

Gag.

It’s about rubbing your partner’s feet at the end of a long day, because he has to walk a lot in hard boots in cold weather.

It’s about cooking dinner while she grabs a shower, because her brain feels like mush after a long day of dealing with stupid people on the phone.

It’s about not killing each other over how you load the dishwasher, or how you fold towels, or whether you fold, roll-up, or fold-into-themselves your socks before they go in your drawer.

I’m just tired, I guess.

Sometimes I wish I had someone here to share everything with. I hate that I come home alone, every night, to an empty house. That there’s no one here to take care of but the cats.

(They’re assholes, but I know at least Sally loves me. She says so every time I sneeze. Truly. I sneeze -she cries & jumps in my lap & checks on my face)

And I’ve gone down the rabbit-hole tangent.

Anyway…

I know I’ll be alone.

It’s difficult sometimes, being on my own.

It hurts.

I’m not used to it, and I don’t really like it. I’d rather have someone to take care of, and someone who will take care of me back.

But – this is where I am.

Whether through past choices I made, or whatever, this is where I’ve ended up.

And the hourglass doesn’t run the other direction.

I have no idea how much time is left.

So, I guess the memories will have to do.

Sometimes Weekend Insomnia isn’t my fault

I have insomnia a lot, mostly in the fact that – yeah I have trouble falling asleep, so I’m up late, but I also wake up 2, 3, or sometimes 4 times a night.

Not for long, just long enough to roll over, look at my clock, realize it’s hours before I should be getting up, & go back to sleep – but still, it breaks up my nights enough so that I normally only get around 4 or 5 hours of sleep a night on the regular.

And, weekends are usually worse.

Because I’m busy, and have shit to do.

Things I want to get done.

Things I want to enjoy.

Things I can’t seem to get accomplished during the week, like laundry (my dryer takes foreeeeever), and housecleaning, & grocery shopping & things like that.

Weekends mean all-nighters, a lot.

With a crash nap the next day, sometimes.

Yeah…*sigh* I know. Not healthy.

But, whatever.

I live alone. Who’s here to care?

Anyway, this weekend, it wasn’t really my fault that I ended up staying up late, and extended it out into an all-niter.

It started with OnlySon.

He changed his “visiting day” to Saturdays, so that we can actually see and interact with each other, talk a little, maybe, before he goes back to his dad’s. It was great, we went grocery shopping, which we both hate, so we riff off each other, & make fun of everything the whole time. When we came back, we talked gaming for a while, which we both enjoy, & made chocolate-covered potato chips together. (I’m using them for gift-giving this year, & he’s not much of a sweets eater, so it was just the making, not the snacking)

We had hours actually together, which we don’t really get, and it was – – great. It was just, really, super nice to have my son back for a while.

Not long after he left, I got a phone call from YoungerDaughter, she was on her way home from a friend’s house after some holiday activities, & wanted me to be her late-night phone buddy while she drove a very lonely, long stretch of road.

So we talked for a couple of hours as she drove home, from the town where she was, to the city she lives in a couple hours away.

By this time, it was already after midnight, and I’d hit my second wind and was good to go for a few more rounds.

And…Just as she was pulling into her driveway…my Beloved Nephew calls & my call waiting beeps!

No rest for the wicked, right?

I’m absolutely NOT going to turn down a phone call from Beloved Nephew, and the daughter is now safely home, so I hang up with her & call him back.

….

By the time I get off the phone with Beloved Nephew, it’s about 3:30 am.

Why the hell would I sleep now? Sun’s going to be up in a couple hours, & I was in the middle of a pretty good book on my Kindle.

ANYWHO… I started receiving texts from my highschool best friend about 9:30, so she & I chatted through text for a bit. She loves over-tired, insomniac me, says I’m hilarious.

Then, yes, I crash-napped for a bit.

Fell asleep around 11:30, woke up around 3:30, & here I am.

Oh, I’ll sleep tonight, even with the nap, never fear. It’ll be the same, broken, woken sleep…

But, sometimes?

Honestly, the insomnia really isn’t my fault.

But I love them.

And I wouldn’t change a damned thing.

Call me anytime, fam. You know I’m here.

Time Travel happens when you’re not looking, so wear sensible shoes

I lost my damned wifi password today.

And, of course, I never bothered to write it down for myself, because it was stored in my phone, so why bother, it was right there.

I wrote it down once for OnlySon, but, like all good tragedies, his room was struck by a cyclone before I could get to the Post-it note, and he’s not here to find the grumble-fucking thing for me.

ANY WHO…..

During my rip-tear-toss of a search around the house, I decided to try my rusty, trusty… (Drumroll please ****)

ADDRESS BOOK!!

YES, this is a thousand years old, the binding is cracked & in desperate need of some form of bonding agent, but!

It’s also a vehicle of time travel.

Honestly, I think I picked this book up at Ben Franklin in the little town I used to hang out in, my senior year of high school… It. Is. That. Old.

My Mom always told me to write addresses into these books in pencil. (wicked, morbid woman).

Because you know what pencil means…right??

TEMPORARY.

It makes my heart hurt & my brain ache, just thinking about all the names my mom would’ve had me erase from this book if I’d kept following her stricture.

But…I’m an ink-pen kinda girl.

Yeah, some of the names in my address book are written in pencil, but I’ve still never erased One.Damn.Name.

Not. One.

Ohhhh, I’ve scribbled out a few, hooo boy, yah I have.

But erased?

Nope.

My Grandma’s name, last home address and phone number are still written in this book, and she’s been gone a couple of years now.

My friend, Shane, he’s still in the book…and he passed away quite a few years ago from a cancerous brain tumor.

A great aunt & uncle, both passed, many years ago… Still in the book.

Friends I haven’t talked to in years, but if I saw them on the street tomorrow, I’d hug the crap out of them?

Still in the book.

Multiple addresses for my male sibling… Some crossed off, some not, none current. All still there.

People’s names, addresses, and/or phone numbers that I haven’t thought about or used in years, they’re probably no good anymore…

But when I look at their name in that old handwriting, I’m suddenly transported back to whatever time of my life that was, & remember that person.

And…in the back of the book…carefully scribbled

Anniversaries

Birthdays

Important numbers belonging to people I cannot forget – my children, my parents.

For a book small enough to easily fit in the back pocket of my jeans…

There’s a whole lot of living time crammed into those pages.

Step lively, step lightly, but step forward.

…….

…………

No, I never found the damned wifi password. I’ll call the cable co. tomorrow. Dammit.

Nopevember 2018

I was quiet all month about my Nopevember curse, hoping it would pass me by this year.

Annnnd… No such luck.

This month has ended in its typical crash, the way it has for the last 10 years.

Every. Damn. Year.

Something happens.

A deer smashes into our vehicle, or there’s an unholy, knock-down, drag-out fight with my brother, or my daughter crashes her car (black ice, NOT her fault), or, well, a mixture of awful things that culminate in totally fucking up the month.

This year?

I spent Thanksgiving week trying to help my son deal with severe anxiety and panic attacks. And spent an afternoon in the ER with him the day before the holiday, making sure he was safe, and not spiraling out of control, due to a bad reaction to his meds.

When he called me that morning, I was at work, & luckily had my cell phone ON me, instead of charging, so I was able to take the call right away.

This kid doesn’t call me for shit.

He hates talking on the phone. Period. But, he called & begged me to take him to the ER, because he couldn’t take it anymore.

Now, I have this weird thing that happens in my brain when there’s an emergency.

I call it my “ER Nurse Gene”.

See, my grandmother was an RN for many years, and my Mom was an EMT, and an LPN, at different times, and for many years, as well.

I’ve had a lot of exposure to the medical field in my life, both growing up, and as an adult.

Mom brushes this aside & says it’s not a “real thing”, but even she’s seen it in action with me, & can’t truly explain what happens.

You see, when there’s an emergency…

Something clicks inside my brain, and suddenly… Everything gets very, very clear.

Like, my vision is suddenly crystal clear, & I can see everything going on. I am hyper focused and can triage with the best of them. My senses are all heightened, my mind has a clarity to it that – even I don’t truly understand, once the whole ordeal is over.

Whatever it is, I knew exactly what I needed to do, where I needed to go, just what to say.

My son wasn’t able to focus well enough to answer many questions for the nurses and doctors, due to the medications side effects he was experiencing, so I asked him if it was ok for me to answer for him. He nodded, so I did.

We were lucky, we got right into a room in the ER, & were seen in a relatively short period. All in all, we were only there for about 3.5 hours, which is fairly quick for our ER.

OnlySon got some help, even if it wasn’t exactly what we were hoping for, more of a stop-gap measure until he can get into his regular doc. But it was at least better than what he was going through before.

And, I talked to my ex, his father, & tried to explain that, yes, OnlySon’s anxiety & depression are mental illnesses, but, they are also –

Physical, chemical imbalances.

They are physical disorders as well as mental, and need to be thought of in that way.

It is a chemical imbalance, that can cause, will cause, mental instability, if it is not properly balanced.

That just like Diabetes, this is something lifelong, to be treated and lived with, not something to be hidden or ashamed of.

He grumbled at me a bit, told me, jealously, how “He talks to you about this, he doesn’t want to talk to me”.

And I told him, that, OnlySon knows that I live with anxiety and depression too. That I understand so much of what he’s going through, and that, unless you live it, unless you’ve been through it, it’s really difficult to explain to someone looking in from the outside.

And, when the day was over, after I’d take OnlySon home & finished my workday, I drove home…

And shook.

Every ounce of adrenaline that I’d been running on all day, rushed out of my body at once.

Thanksgiving with my parents was – an exercise in acting normal.

I wore the mask for their sake, and for Youngerdaughter, who came down to stay.

But, the rest of the weekend was a total bust.

I basically collapsed inward.

I didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to interact with the outside world at all.

That’s the price.

I could never have been a nurse, emergency room or otherwise.

I couldn’t afford the cost of what happens afterwards.

Days in a black hole…

Nopevember.

I’m so done with this month.

Hindsight is 20/20 – squinting – pt. 3

~Don’t seek healing at the feet of those who broke you.

I can’t remember who wrote this, but it really resonated with me this week.

I even wrote it on my desk calendar, so I could look at it every day, and remind myself of those words, practice the mantra, so to speak.

I need to stop kneeling at the feet of those who have hurt me in the past, seeking resolution, consolation, closure, or healing.

I do it way too often.

You see, I used to be the one doing the breaking, so when I crashed at the end, and had to change the way I did things, I really did change.

Except, sometimes, I go too far the other direction.

I’ve had many people tell me I’m too nice, too forgiving.

But – I’m getting ahead of my own story, here.

I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that the summer of 1990 was just a slow roll towards suicide on my part.

It wasn’t.

I had a blast getting into as much trouble as humanly possible, in the short amount of time I had, and in the limited ways I could. (as in, no drugs, no extreme sports – cause HELLO, I SUCK AT SPORTS)

But – it WAS a spiral headed south, and straight into a wall. Somewhere in the back of my primitive id brain I knew this. I wasn’t stupid. I couldn’t see a future for myself, and I was, oddly… wanting to tromp down harder on the gas pedal, for some reason. Get there faster, & you waste less gas?

Well, my parents weren’t having it.

They clamped down on me, & told me to either “find a job, or you’re headed for the military”.

Yep. No shit.

So – I hit the papers, and found want ads – for nannies. People in other states wanted nannies from North Dakota to fly to their homes to take care of their kids, because they thought ND kids made better nannies, for some reasons. And I – wanted the fuck out. Out of North Dakota. Out of my current life, out from under my parents’ rules, you know… Typical young self-destructive type behavior.

Fast forward a few phone calls, and I’d found a family in New Jersey, who had 2 kids, both adopted, and they wanted me right away.

Off I went.

Everyone has baggage.

But Delta had no idea I had TWO carry-ons with me instead of just the one they saw.

You see, I’d been a horrible girlfriend to the boyfriend I fell for…

And I’d run around and used sex to feel good about myself.

I’d thought I was just malnourished, from not eating well, smoking & drinking a lot over the summer, subsisting on sunflower seeds & beef jerky most of the time.

I didn’t realize I had a growing reason for missing my period.

Until the morning I puked for no reason.

Well, there was a reason, I just didn’t want to know it, or admit it, really.

Shit.

*sigh*

On my day off, I ran an errand to the drug store & bought myself a stick test to pee on.

Damn thing practically turned blue in my hand before I got it open.

Hell.

So, on my next day off… I went down to the local women’s free clinic & got tested there. Positive again.

And a courtesy “talk” with a counselor, who gently went through all my options with me, asking me delicately if I was… Possibly…maybe…could I be…considering…abor.. ??

“NO.” I was most emphatic, and a huge, truck-load sized weight seemed to lift from the counselor’s shoulders.

“Oh, thank goodness!”, she was so relieved, I thought she was going to hug me, which would have been awkward, and extremely uncomfortable for us both, I think.

Then, she wanted to discuss adoption, & I shut her down on that, too.

Nope.

I thanked her politely, and told her that, in no uncertain terms, I was going home, I was going to have my baby, and I was going to raise it myself.

This was mine, and no one was taking it from me.

It was time to fucking grow up.

My baby needed me. And needed me to be an ADULT. I was going to be a mommy, and I’d be damned if anyone was taking that from me.

Now, I needed to figure out how to do that.

I wasn’t even old enough to drink legally, yet.

But I was damned well going to figure this out.

For once, it wasn’t about what I needed.

It was about what someone else needed from me. Someone who didn’t have anyone else, and needed me first, most, and who I could love without reservations or limits or embarrassment. I could give this baby everything I was, and it wouldn’t betray me, because I would be its mommy.

This baby was going to love me, because I was going to love him or her so hard, there’d be no reason not to.