Be confident. Be awesome.


It’s been a while since I had anything poignant to blog about. Seems each year grows worse and worse with more trials and tribulations thrown at me. It’s been almost a full year since my last entry, and after reading it, I’ve realized that nothing has changed. But I do not want to dwell on that, as I actually have something important I want to start blogging. I want a written record of what I’m going through, and I couldn’t find the proper venue, so I decided to just add it to my ROCKSTAR blog. Because after all, if I make it through this trial, I really will be able to feel awesome like a Rockstar.

At the beginning of March, I was diagnosed with a glomus jugulare tumor. It’s a benign tumor that started in my middle ear, but has grown into my head, down my neck and up the base of my skull. It has also invaded my brain and is now displacing my brain stem to the left. The tumor has damaged many nerves, including the one controlling my right shoulder, tongue, vocal cords and my face. I’ve lost hearing in my right ear completely. My right vocal cord is paralyzed, with the left starting to show signs of strain and failure. I can’t use my right arm like I used to, but it still functions minimally. My voice is harsh and I cough a lot due to aspiration, so I can’t sleep laying down anymore. Any and all airborne irritants ignite a coughing fit.

The treatment is extensive surgery that would require a team of surgeons because of the size of the tumor. It requires an ENT surgeon, neck surgeon, neurosurgeon and vascular specialist. The surgery will take three days: first day will be angiogram and embolization, second day will be tumor removed from my ear and neck, and third day tumor removed from my brain. I did not get a surgery date because the doctor who’s handling my case (Dr. Cass – the ENT specialist) said this is a massive project that will take a lot of planning, so it might take some time to coordinate everything.

On Monday, May 20th, 2013, I had my first ever jury duty. And while I was in the jury room, unable to return phone calls, I got a call from Dr. Cass saying he referred my case to Dr. Gaspar in the Radiology Oncology depart in the Cancer treatment center of University of Colorado Hospital. Dr. Gaspar thinks she can remove my tumor without the need of “extensive surgery”. So I have a consultation with her on May 30th. My feelings on the matter are that I do not want my brain fried and I would rather have the surgery, even if recovery will take a year longer than it would with the high-dose radiation.

When I found out about the tumor, I withdrew from school because it became too hard to concentrate and I was falling behind. I intend to re-enroll once my recovery is to a point that I can physically do the work and concentrate again.

It’s been hard dealing with this, because I always try to handle things on my own, not wanting anyone’s help. But this is something that is bigger than myself and I can’t do it alone. It has brought out the best and worst of my family too, and shown me who really cares about me, and who just lies to my face to get stuff out of me. My sister has been very supportive, as well as my mom. My mom is devastated and unsure how to handle this, and she’s been trying to make things easier for me, but it’s hard because my brother feels threatened. He doesn’t want to lose his Golden Child status, and feels if mom is nice to me, he loses his free-ride.

I want to start blogging the details as they happen, but I have neglected to so far because I haven’t been able to decide on a venue or delivery method (blog, tumblr, etc.). I finally decided on this blog because if I can survive this, I’m an amazing rockstar.


Subterfuge is a word I’ve known for a long time. But it was only tonight that I truly understood the meaning. My small world is full of subterfuge. My tribe would collapse without it.

My tribe consists of my housemates. I would say family, but my sister has her own tribe, and someone not part of my family lives here now. Before this year, it was just my mom and me. We made plans, we set schedules and we lived cohesively together as roommates and friends, rather than mother-daughter. The paradigm shifted when my brother moved back home and brought his girlfriend with him. So I went from being a member of a very small tribe with equal say, equal responsibility, basic human rights and a certain amount of safety and happiness, to a the bottom of the 4-person totem pole with no rights, no privileges, no say and a brand new position of “the bitch”. I lost my place in my tribe, and it has been an incredibly difficult struggle. 

Adjusting to fit in means I have to start lying, like the other three. It means I have to be tolerant of drug use. It means I have to let the ones who do not help pay the bills take advantage of me. It means buying groceries for those who don’t pay for their own food. It means stooping to subterfuge in order to survive.

There is no happiness in that. There is also no happiness in fighting it, either. My mother loves my brother more than anything in this world. What mother wouldn’t? But she loves him at the expense of her two daughters. She always has. She was raised to believe women were worthless, and then married a man who perpetuated that false notion. All the plans and schedules we made just suddenly didn’t exist the moment my brother moved in. I expected it, so I’m not bitter about that. It helped me realize that my five-year-plan should not have been created with her in mind, and I simply revised it.

In order to live by my own principles, ethics and values, I can not live in this house, or be a part of this tribe. It is a daily fight to try and be a good person with all the bad being thrown in my face. The way anyone in this house gets things done is by subterfuge. There’s a huge amount of manipulation going on in order to take advantage of the other people in order to get something for nothing. Some examples: someone says he will mow the lawn for $40. He gets the money, but does not do the work. Someone asks to borrow money for some bill or mandatory expense, but when it comes time to pay bills, he considers paying back that loan the same thing as paying the household bills. Someone needs to go somewhere, however there are only two licensed drivers in the house. One of those drivers is at work 7a-7p M-F which means there is only one. That one can only drive an automatic, which happens to be MY car. So I don’t get any say in someone else driving my car to do errands for someone else, who also does not pay for gas or the ride or even offer to help out in someway regarding all of the driving done on her behalf.

I feel like I’m whining, so no more examples. My point is that in order to survive in this house without being taken advantage of, I have to compromise my principles. I will not do that. So I am the enemy, because I look like a bitch, because I’m honest. My mother will not be honest with the other two, but she has no problem complaining to me about how they use her and take all her money and don’t help her at all. When I get mad at them for taking advantage of my mom, I become the asshole.

So my plan is to get out of here. I need to remove myself from this toxic environment so that I can start growing again. Maybe even flourish, which is something I will never be allowed to do while living here.

I bought a car at the beginning of May. My first car since the late 1990’s and it’s 100% paid off with no loan or lien. Every car I ever had with Josh was repo’d, so this is huge for me. My next task is getting my driver’s license back. I lost it due to an unfortunate circumstance that involved my ex-husband royally screwing me over, and then not taking care of it because of the divorce. My experiences at the DMV have not been pleasant, but I am taking my road test on Thursday. 

Once I have my driver’s license and my driving is not limited to my mother’s whims, I will be starting my job search. Once I’ve secured a job, and saved up enough to leave, I will not look back. I know that it is dangerous for me to live alone due to medical complications, but I feel it is more fatal to live in this house any longer.

I know it will be difficult to maintain a full-time job and be a full-time student, but I am fairly certain I can manage. I need to do this for my own health and safety.


Today I felt like a ROCKSTAR. Which was awesome, considering the string of unfortunate events that have been occurring over the past few days.

I bought a car — well, an SUV — at the beginning of the month. A Ford Explorer. I bought it from a lady who was the only owner and took good care of it. It’s red, although someday it will be blue. I got my driver permit 2 weeks ago, and today I was supposed to take my driver test, but something happened, and I couldn’t take it. Not a big deal, because today I am a ROCKSTAR and sometimes, shit just happens. Next test is scheduled for the 6th of June.

As far as other stuff, I started my next two classes this week: Ethics and Technical Writing and Speaking. I’m enjoying the business classes a lot, and it’s making me think that I should just look into a Business degree, instead of Healthcare, because not only is it more versatile, but its far less boring. 

My goals for Forty have been coming along nicely, if just a bit slow. I have five and a half years till I’m forty, and by that time, my goal is to be debt-free, own my own home and be 100% independent. Well, debt-free minus student loans. I’m sure those will take a bit longer than five years to pay off considering the President of the U.S. only recently paid his off.


I re-enrolled for the Bachelor program to try and give myself some more diversity. And because I don’t think I really like Coding all that much. I’m still in a Healthcare Information program, but I will not be limited to just Coding. And I can potentially be a manager in hospitals, if I do well. My only hang up is that I don’t know if it’s what I want to do with my life.

Strike that, I know it’s not. But what I want to do, I can’t do, because it does not pay the bills or allow for independence. I want to be a writer. I want to be able to sit at my computer or lay out in the sun and ponder the possibilities and write about them. But I feel the chance for doing that has slipped by me, and I’m simply too old to for it. I have to think about a realistic future. And the Healthcare Industry one is that is far more stable than any other industry. Not everyone has the luxury in life to do what they love for a living.

School started today. I have some essays due in two days. 6 classes per week, plus the essays and projects is going to leave very little room for anything else. But I suppose this is necessary.

I feel like I’m trapped in a little cage with the key merely a meter in front of the door, but just out of reach. I can see what I need to do in order to gain my freedom, but I just can’t quite reach it. Not without a nudge, a push, or some little bit of assistance. And I lack the supportive environment required to accomplish what I need to, so it’s damn difficult. So now I am doing the only thing I know I can do, in order to maintain the minuscule amount of liberties I do have.

That’s about as whiny as I will get. It’s far more than I initially intended on allowing myself, but I needed to vent a bit.

Something Positive~

I am making it a goal to read every day, even if it’s just one chapter, or article. I want to write about it on my tumblr blog, so I need to get in that habit.


I nearly forgot to document this momentous conclusion in the blog I started to track my journey in the first place. I graduated on Saturday, the 7th. With Highest Honors (3.80 GPA). I now have an Associates Degree in Medical Coding and Billing.

My plan is to take the next few months to finish my book, so I can start sending it to publishing houses, then I will enroll for my Bachelors Degree in Healthcare Management.

I’m still going to occasionally write in this blog. I know it’s uninteresting to the rest of the world, but I enjoy going back over it once in a while to read.


It’s a term I have only recently started becoming familiar with. And I believe that because my mind wants connections to exist between random events, I try to look for the synchronicity in everything that happens. I don’t know if it’s real, or just me trying to find the connections, no matter how obscure. I do notice the small, random coincidences, and I feel odd even calling them coincidences, because there is a feeling deep down, that they happened the way they did for a reason. I usually don’t know the reason, but I do notice the connection.

So I want to believe in synchronicity.

Most people that know me, pretty much think I’m off my rocker, mentally-challenged, ignorant or unintelligent. I rarely get credit for being smart, except for the few folks that I let in to get to know the real me. I suppose I play up the ‘dumb as dirt’ stigma that people attach to me sometimes, because it’s easier than arguing. Because when I do show my true knowledge on a subject, it seems to make people uncomfortable and argumentative. As if I could know more about something than them. As if! Anyway, my theories on life and the universe seem to be rather “out there” and contrived from my imagination. I use logic as I know it to come to my conclusions, which rarely, if ever, meshes with other people’s views on life.

But I don’t care. I like believing that there is more out there than the mundane. I believe in magic, and the power of our imagination and creativity.

Now, having said that, which, I had no intention of saying in the first place, I will get on with my silly little anecdotes that I actually did want to share.

Last Mother’s day, I mentioned the silly “coincidences” regarding the adorable server and the carnation he gave to me. That is but one example. Here’s another:

When I dream, sometimes I dream in mini-series. Sometimes they’re semi-lucid, but usually they’re not. I will dream the same scenario with the same players/characters for over a week straight until the story plays out. I personally believe I need to write these stories, but alas, I lack the time or motivation to write silly stories with bizarre plot holes. Afterall, my mind is a very strange place, and my subconscious creates some rather odd situations and imagery.

My recent dream series involved me being a nanny for a family similar to Dexter’s on the Showtime TV show. They had the same names, but were different, and the children were two adolescent girls named Astrid and Ellie. (Astrid comes from the show, Ellie does not). I don’t want to get into details, because I get embarrassed to write about my dreams, but I met a detective for Miami Metro named Jeff. His last name was never very clear to me, other than the letter ‘n’ somewhere in it. His physical appearance was very familiar to me too. He looked sorta like the male member of the band, Eden’s Edge: Dean Berner.

The reason that is significant, might seem silly. When I was young, around 4th or 5th grade, I had a best friend named Janice. She was very big into occult things, which I don’t know why, because her parents were very Christian. But also, at that age, I was very naive and ignorant on the world, so I pretty much believed anything anyone told me, as long as it sounded neat and made logical sense to my 10 year-old brain. Also, I had an interesting way of viewing the world through my naive kid glasses, so my memories from childhood are a lil skewed to that view point.

One day, just out of the blue, Janice called me. “I got a message for you,” she said to me.

“From who?”

“I don’t know, but it came to me today while I was sitting in my room. So I had to confirm it with my Ouija board.” (Note: at this time in my life, I was scared to death of ouija boards. And Janice was a very firm believer in the messages they gave. In hindsight, I know it’s just child’s play, but I believed it back then.)

Scared, I asked what the message was, hoping it wasn’t the same as the last message I got from her board. She took it to school to let the class play with it, and it said the devil was going to get me. After that, the rest of the school year, my classmates were leery to be around me. It sucked. I cried the rest of the day, and had to have the counselor reassure me that a board game wasn’t going to get me. I of course, didn’t believe her.

“You are going to marry a man named Jeff Burner,” she said. She didn’t spell it out, however, so I assumed that’s how it’s spelled.

“Uhm, okay.”

End of conversation. I didn’t know what to do with that information, because I was only 10. But that name got ingrained into my psyche and every time I heard a name similar, I couldn’t help but wonder.

So back to my latest dream series. Jeff, with a mysterious last name, who looks like Dean Berner (pronounced, I assume, just like Burner).  I did not make the connection right away. Instead, I was bored and decided to look up photos of Eden’s Edge to see how much the guy from my subconscious looked like the one he’s apparently modeled after. (similar, but not exact, in case anyone’s wondering). But what jarred me was his name. As soon as I seen it, I was like, “Yes, that’s Jeff last name … wait … that’d make him Jeff Berner…”

And there is yet another silly example of the synchronicity in my world. I do not believe this means I am fated or connected at all to the singer. I do not see this as signs to go fangirly all over the singer either. What I see this as, is positive signs that maybe the story my subconscious was trying to tell is one worth elaborating and expanding on. Worth writing.  Maybe that little dream series would make an entertaining story, because obviously something happened to make it worthy to mention here in the first place, right?


It has been quite some time, yet again, since my last update. It’s a dirty little habit that I have: out of sight, out of mind. Couple that with my new philosophy regarding not posting negativity and that gives me very little to write about. For the past month or so, I have been one big ball of rage; angry at everything. It was not a good time to update anything. I am still somewhat in that frame of mind, but I am hoping by posting some positive stuff that will help push me out of it.

I am poor. That is not something I hide. I do what I can, with what little I have. I do not enjoy being poor, and I am working towards fixing that situation by getting a college degree. I live with my mother. Not something I am proud of, but even if I had a very good paying job, I would still live with her. Why? Because I need someone who has my back, due to my mental illness. I need someone who can save me from myself, and someone I can trust. I trust very few people these days. I do not live with her because I am mooch, or because I don’t want to support myself. It actually pains me a great deal that I am so dependent on another person and don’t have the personal freedoms most adults have. If I had the means, things would be different. I am working towards gaining the means.

Why do I bring this up? Because my sister is jealous of me. I don’t know why. But it is the only explanation for her behavior and why she is constantly throwing untruths in my mom’s face in order to victimize herself. She has a perfect life. A husband, two children (a boy and the world’s cutest little girl), a house, a good job, steady income. Everything every American dreams about having. But she’s not happy. She jealous of me, and my brother. My brother is also working towards improving his quality of life. I just don’t understand why it’s such a thorn in her side.

I have a wonderful relationship with my mother. We talk like adults; like friends. We trust each other. We can argue and disagree with each other and make up just the same. There are no grudges or hard feelings. But with my sister, any disagreement at all is the end of the world and marks the end of the “relationship”. She won’t talk to my mom like an adult. She doesn’t trust her and refuses to keep her informed about anything relevant. Yet she continues to complain about being “left out” by my mother and “ignored”. She did it to herself. How can she not see that? Pete and I both talk WITH our mother. Jennifer talks AT her. I can see what a drastic difference that makes in the quality of all of our relationships with our mother.

I pray a lot for my sister, that she will someday see the world for what it is, and not what she thinks it is or what it can offer her. I pray that she lets go of her anger and is able to see that change begins with the self, not the people around her. I pray that she matures enough to realize that our mother is an adult, a woman, a human being and treats her as such. I think once she realizes that she will have the relationship she wants with her.

I cannot afford therapy or classes to help myself, but I can read books and take online courses. I have been working on myself since January 2010. I have learned to control my anger and I am on the path of letting go of passive-aggressive behavior. I can recognize my role in any given situation, and act accordingly. When my attitude or problems are affecting others, I step back and reevaluate what I am doing. I admit my mistakes and shortcomings. I know I am only human and I am not perfect, even though I strive to be perfect with everything I do. I know that self-help can only go so far when I have clinically diagnosed mental illnesses, but they are helping me cope a lot better than I used to. I am grateful I had the change of heart that I did. My only regret is that it didn’t happen sooner, before I wrecked nearly every friendship and relationship I had.

I look back at who I used to be and laugh. I was such a silly fool. But I know I had to be, in order to be the person I am today. And despite feeling down lately, I know I am a much, much better person and I am on the right track with my life. I just have to be confident and strong. I have to remind myself to be patient, because it won’t happen overnight. The payoff will be completely worth it.

I graduate March 24th, 2011. I will have my first college degree. That is quite an accomplishment for me.

I am almost done writing a complete novel. I have over 100k words, and just one scene left to write. I never thought I would accomplish that. And November 1 is when NaNoWriMo starts and I plan to write novel number 2. Someday, I hope they can be published. I would love to be able to give back to my mom, to repay her for all she has done for me during the hardest and darkest years of my life.


This is just something that’s been on my mind. No meaning or anything, just jotting it down because I think it’s neat, and could possibly be used as inspiration for something else later on.

I grew up being told that when a guy gives a girl flowers, however long they last shows how much he loves her.  Cut flowers rarely last beyond two weeks, so if they last longer, the guy really loves the girl. When I told my ex that I wanted a divorce, as a last ditch effort, he bought me flowers for the first time (lack of romantic gestures like giving flowers was one of the many things I mentioned in my “I want a divorce” speech.)  It was a very beautiful, very large bouquet of flowers. It last maybe a week, and that’s being generous. I even tried to take care of them, to make them last because they were so pretty. And the frugal tightwad in me wanted to make sure it wasn’t 80 bucks wasted, even if not my own money.

Okay, so…

On Mother’s Day this year (May 8th), my brother, sister w/ her family, and I took my mom to her favorite restaurant for dinner–Black-Eyed Pea. It was quite an adventure, and one that I won’t go into details about. However, there is one very important detail I do want to mention, and that is the adorably cute server we had. I was sitting next to my one year-old niece, so keeping an eye on her was top of my focus, but I still managed to steal a glance or two towards the server.

At the end of the meal, being that it was Mother’s Day, the servers were handing out carnations to all of the mothers dining there. It’s a sweet gesture for the restaurant. I also know it can be difficult to distinguish which women had children and which ones didn’t and it’s polite to just let all the woman have a flower. I’m used to that on Mother’s Day.

I am handed a pink carnation by the cutie-pie server. I think nothing more about it, because I merely was admiring this man, nothing more, even if there is a little girly voice inside of me squealing like a Beiber fan. When we got home, my mom put the two carnations (her’s was yellow, which was even sweeter, because we got flowers in our favorite colors) in a pot I had previously been trying to sprout strawberry seeds in. The pot didn’t have any holes in it, so it was holding water pretty well. We set them on the porch and the pot filled with water during our week-long rain storm.

Fast-forward to June 1st. I was coming up the walkway towards the front door and I glanced at my flower pots (I have basil, sage and thyme in them, so I was checking to see if they looked healthy) and I noticed my strawberry pot, filled with water still. The yellow carnation had long wilted, but I noticed the pink one still looked vibrant. It struck me as odd, because they were both put in the pot at the same time. That, and it was three and half weeks since we got the flowers.

It’s been a week since I noticed the flower, and it has now wilted. But the fact that it lasted until June looking healthy made me think of that superstition that my mother taught us about how the flowers last because of love.

Mom and I went to Black Eyed Pea for dinner for their Chicken-fried Steak Monday special. I did not see the cutie-pie server at first, so I figured he was not there. We had a nice girl serving us that was a little air-headed. To my surprise, the cute-pie server brought our food out to us, despite that he was not our server. Made my night. ❤

(( I do not think the server loves me. Do not be mistaken. I just thought it was a cute and silly notion, worth writing about, because it could make for a sweet and romantic scene in a future story. I want to start using this blog for things like documenting my inspirations and things. ))


I think I am going to change directions a bit with this blog. My goal at first was to have a place to document all the good, motivating and inspirational things that go on in my life, and that I experience on my journey to normalcy. But things have derailed in my life a bit, and I find it harder and harder to think of uplifting things to write. At least on a regular basis anyway. I will stick to my 2010 resolution about keeping my dirty laundry in the closet, and not ever saying mean or negative things about other people behind their back (or in a public forum).

I would like to just document what is going on, either uplifting, happy, sad or otherwise. That way, I will still feel motivated to update, even if things aren’t going so well.

Now, why is this post called, “Growing Up”? Well, because I feel like I am finally growing up. Maturing. Reflecting back on my actions and the way I reacted to things in my past showed me how incredibly immature I have always been. It took 31 years for me to finally become an adult. Now, I am not talking about tossing out the toys and cartoons and exchanging them for the NYSE tickers and NCIS. No, I am talking about how I handle every day tasks and how I relate to other people. I still love cartoons, I still play video games and collect certain toys. My room still has life-size cardboard cutouts of Darth Vader, Stitch, Mushu and Alice with the Chesire Cat. I also still enjoy a good fart joke.

So what has changed? My perspective on other people. I no longer see the world with me as the center. I can see other people’s point of view, and I am not quick to judge or criticize. I realize that I never will know the whole story behind why people do the things they do, so I don’t jump to conclusions that put me at the center of the slight. The biggest change though, is that I accept that I am real, I am human, and I can’t live my life in a video game where I take the relationships personally. I will never meet any of the people on the other side of the computer, so I don’t care what they think about me. I no longer need the validation of being awesome in that fantasy world, because real life is so much better. Bumpy roads, grey clouds and all.

I am spending a lot of time trying to redefine myself, so that my sole descriptor isn’t “gamer”. I invested in some new hobbies to see if I have aptitude for sewing and sculpting. I spend more time with my mom as well. We have our nights where we set aside time to watch some prime time TV together. (True Blood is coming in 4 weeks! woo!)

I am writing, too. I have half of a novel’s first draft complete. I have the world-building and outlines done for 3 other novels. I am working on gaining the courage to let other people read my work still. But my ultimate goal is to complete a novel, not necessarily sell one. Though it would be awesome.

I am still in school. My graduation date is still set for the end of December, and my GPA is currently 3.91. It will most likely go down when this sessions grades are posted though, because I am struggling with CPT-4. The teacher is way more strict with getting the exact numbers, without hints, second chances, or leeway, than my ICD-9 teacher was. She won’t even tell me what I am doing wrong, just that I am “making several different mistakes one code after the other”.  The more I learn about coding (any system) the less I like it. However, I do like HIM, so I decided I want to be an RHIA (Registered Health Information Administrator) so I will be signing up to get my Bachelor’s degree.

I planted some herbs this year too, because a couple of months ago I learned that I love to cook with herbs and fresh ingredients. Not the “cooking” I was taught growing up (bland survival meals: meat and potatoes with just ground hamburger, potatoes and water) but the kind you see on Food Network. I also have become incredibly addicted to Caprese salad. I eat it nearly every day for lunch. I don’t know the health value in it, but at least there is no sugar or carbs in it. Cooking is an expensive hobby, so I haven’t delved as deep as I would like.

We have an addition to the family as well. A long-haired chihuahua puppy that my mom named Coco. She’s a chocolate brown color, so the name kind of fits. She is still very co-dependent, having never slept a night not next to me. My schedule keeps me up all night, so she sleeps in the chair curled up next to me. Sandy doesn’t quite like her, or at least, she pretends she doesn’t. She acts like if she gets too close, she’ll get cooties. But when no one’s looking, she plays with the puppy.


It is 5:33 am as I begin to type this. I was laying in bed, deep in thought instead of sleeping–like I should be–and I was struck with a grand epiphany. So here I sit, in the darkness of my bedroom with only the light from my little fox nightlight and my macbook illuminating my world.

I have been doing a lot of reading this past week. Not just my normal paranormal UF fiction either. I have been trying to teach myself new ways of creative thinking and bought a book to help. It’s a goldmine. But that’s not what I got up to write about. I wanted to write, briefly, about two topics weighing heavy on my mind lately.

I recently read a quote, and I can’t remember who said it, but I think it may have been Jack London. “You can’t wait for Inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.”

I have been thinking a lot on that quote, and it dawned on me. That’s always been my excuse. “I am not inspired” I use that as my excuse to not get things done. I know that is probably obvious to everyone that knows me, but it wasn’t to me. I genuinely thought I needed to wait for that flash of inspiration to do anything creative. But now that I know, and I have admitted it to myself, I can change it.

I am going to go after inspiration with a club!

The other thing I wanted to touch upon was an extremely odd occurance from this evening. My mom and I went to Hancock Fabrics with the goal in mind to look at sewing machines and hopefully purchase one as well as the material I would need to tackle the 3 projects that have been stewing in my mind lately.

Upon crossing the threshold of the store–which was settled in between a BigLots! and the Wheat Ridge post office–I was washed over with feelings of unwelcome dread. These feelings were incredibly intense. Unlike anything I have felt in years. Even the lighting and visuals in the store began to feel distorted and washed over with an unhealthy orange hue. Truly bizarre. I decided to shrug the feelings off as just a random paranoia thing, and kept going further into the store towards the sewing machine display. But the further into the store I went, the more uncomfortable and unwelcomed I felt. It got so bad, that I thought I was going to vomit. I turned and quickly started heading for the exit, telling my mom that I needed to get out of there before I threw up all over the place. She just followed behind.

Once we were outside, I just stood there for a few minutes and felt worlds better. The nausea was completely gone and I didn’t have that dreadful feeling looming over my head. And I turned to look in through the glass storefront and the store looked fine, no orange hue inside.

I asked my mom how she felt inside, without telling her what I experienced, other than the nausea of course. She said, “I felt very awkward and unwelcomed. I don’t know why.” I then explained that’s the feeling I got as well.

I have no idea what happened, or why it happened to both of us (mom didn’t feel nausea) but I got the distinct feeling we were not meant to be in that store. Wether it was the store, or some other force telling me to not get a sewing machine to complete projects is still a mystery. One that might be solved when I get up, and mom and I make attempt number 2 at going out to get a sewing machine. Only this time, we’re going to Joann Fabrics in Westminster.

I am a very superstitious person. I do things untraditionally, that Christians would not feel comfortable with, but they feel right for me. I believe myself to be an empath, with higher-than average strength with my sixth sense. So when crazy things like this happen, yes, I immediately start thinking that it is something not of our nature giving me signs. I trust my intuition and first impressions. They rarely have let me down.

If anything bizarre occurs at Joann’s, or doesn’t for that matter, I will be sure to note it. For research purposes more than anything. For now, I need sleep, because it is nearly 6 am and I have to be up in a few hours.