This is the fall wreath I made a month or so ago. It's been hanging by my door like this, and has been bothering me.
It wasn't symmetrical. The lower left of the wreath wasn't as full as the rest of it. So I got out my glue gun and just added two leaves. Much better! Sorry for the before pic being shown twice.
I know I had a setback over the last couple of weeks, but I'm ready to delve back into writing. I need to start racking my brains in order to remember a small lesson a woman from church gave me once called “Advocates in the Bible”. She wrote the lesson herself years before she showed it to me, and taught it to me briefly when I was staying at her home between apartments. I was about 23 years old then, and she was a mom figure to me. I often referred to her as my “foster mom”, even though I was grown and not a foster child. To make a long story short, she was a spirit-filled Christian and was diagnosed with bone cancer. Her denomination believed in miraculous healings, and she prayed for one. She believed she would receive one, but didn't. Her passing was what made me sort of “give in” to dating my first husband, Anna’s father. I didn't believe that I really could ever have a partner, but grieving her just made me give up and be like “ok I'll go out with you.”
Before her tragic passing, though, she did write this lesson called Advocates in the Bible, and perhaps she taught it to others in the past. She and I spent a few days at her table going through the lesson. She went through all these biblical characters and explained how they were advocates of a certain cause. I hope that makes sense. I was a little lost in life, because I really wanted to know what advocacy was, but was constantly told it meant I had to go to law school. An advocate can mean a lawyer, but it means many other things too.
I no longer rely on the Bible for inspiration, but I did then. Over the past 20-something years since she passed, my faith has evolved. I deconstructed before deconstructing was popular.
However, in the last couple of years, I honestly hate to say it, but the war in Israel has really caused a totally unexpected wave of deconstruction. Some people say this war started on 10-7-2023, some say it was 1945, but honestly, it started when Joshua fought the battle of Jericho and the walls came tumbling down.
As I watched the news over the last couple of years, I realized that the stories in the Bible that used to bring me so much inspiration are actually stories of this same war that's been happening for thousands of years. The Queen Esther story was part of this war. When David killed Goliath, we are also taught that it was an inspiration for if you are facing an insurmountable problem. When Moses went before Pharaoh (as an advocate) and said, “Let my people go”, it laid the groundwork for the following battles. “The promised land” is used as a euphemism for either the end goal of something positive or maybe going to heaven, but it didn't start out meaning those things.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not taking a side in a war in a part of the world I've never been to. I've struggled enough taking sides in my own country. I've spent the last year or two listening to the advocacy of Ms. Rachel, the education from Miriam (and the subsequent antisemitism against even her 1-year-old baby girl), and I can't stomach the hate against the innocents on both sides. That's all.
Going back to those biblical stories and remembering my inspiration when it's now two decades later and I'm learning to associate those stories with current events is going to be really hard. There's no room in my book to talk about the war in Israel since 10/7/2023. I do talk about the crisis of faith in other ways.
To sort of get back into the spirit of who I was when Mary sat me down at her table and essentially gave me what I wanted by teaching me what an advocate actually was, I've started listening to some songs that I stopped listening to. The main one is Jericho by Andrew Ripp. It's supposed to be an inspirational song, and it is. The chorus goes, “All of my fears like Jericho walls gotta come down, come down, come down.” No one is actually talking about what happened in Jericho- we just want our fears and anxiety to come down like Jericho walls. The song is about us, not them. I'm trying to get back into the innocent t headspace I was in when I was 23 or 24 and sitting at Mary’s table.
Once, right after the October 7th attacks in Israel, I was venting to my mom that this has been going on since Joshua fought the battle of Jericho. Now my mom is very religious, but has never read the Bible. I think that's pretty common for her generation. When I said that, she told me, “I don't know the story of Joshua, but I do know the song.” I thought she meant the Andrew Ripp song that I mentioned above. No, actually she meant when Mahalia Jackson sang it to MLK. The fact that we have drawn so much inspiration over the millennia from the battles and wars that led to the events of today is wild to me now.
In order to write about this effectively, I have to temporarily let go of all the ways in which the current events have clouded my view of the biblical stories in the actual lesson Mary had. Mary lived from the 1950’s until then early 2000’s, so probably never had the opportunity to watch the ongoing conflict live like we do now in 2025. RIP Mary C,
I'll do my best.
Today, my manager introduced me to a song I've never heard before- I've Been Everywhere by Johnny Cash
I liked it, and it reminded me of that time in 2020 when I took off and did these side hustles on the apps and made a lot of money. I went all over nine states plus Memphis, Tennessee (but not into the rest of Tennessee). I often say I may do it again someday and visit the entire lower 48. We'll see. I thought about copy pasting the lyrics here and answering yes or no to each location Johnny Cash names in the song- did I go there or not during the time period that the apps were my only job? Here are my answers:
My answers are in ALL CAPS. I went all over Oklahoma too, and some of these town names sound like Oklahoma.
I've been everywhere, man
The main character is Bill Henrickson, played by Bill Paxton, a Mormon polygamist with three wives and nine children (three per wife). His first wife Barb was born and raised in the mainstream LDS church. His second wife Nikki was born and raised in a polygamist compound on which her father was the prophet. (Her sect of Mormonism was fundamentalist and separate from the mainstream LDS). Bill’s third wife Margie was raised by an alcoholic single mother who was a non-practicing catholic. Margie was 25 years younger than Bill and didn't become Mormon until after she married Bill (and essentially Barb and Nikki).
In the first four seasons, only Barb is Bill’s legal wife. Then in the last season, they obtained a divorce on paper only so Nikki could be the legal one.
Bill is the owner of a chain of home improvement stores. He then buys into a casino and ultimately runs for state senator. During the election, he hides that he's a polygamist, wins the election, and reveals that he's a polygamist while accepting the nomination. Kind of sneaky!
I've never been Mormon, but I lived in Arizona for exactly nine years. I had a lot of Mormon friends, a lot of ex-Mormon friends, and a little bit of a fascination with the LDS church, even though I do not believe in it. Nowadays, one of my side jobs (which I haven't done in several months ) is to take pictures of the landscaping around LDS churches. Kevin asked me why a fascination if I don't believe in it. I said mostly because of their extreme niceness when you first meet them, their emphasis on having large, loving families (which my first boyfriend Matt and I wanted), and just the sheer number of friends I had as a teenager who were born and raised in it. In my high school on the south side of Phoenix, LDS kids could skip one class period per quarter to go across the street and attend seminary. When I used to visit Arizona back when my side hustles paid a lot better, I often made about $60 per hour on the landscaping jobs because of so many LDS churches in the greater Phoenix area.
I have one funny memory of when I was in high school, and they were going to have a hypnotist in either an assembly or a senior event (don't remember exactly). Several LDS kids were getting religious exemptions from participating in the hypnosis. My mother, a devout Greek Orthodox, also went with me to get a religious exemption from the hypnosis. The school administrator commented to my mother like, “If you have a note from your Bishop, you can submit it, but it's not necessary.” I burst out laughing. In Mormonism, every single church location has a bishop. In the Eastern Orthodox church, there's only one bishop over an entire area including several states. Living in Phoenix, we were actually in the diocese of Denver, whereas the local LDS churches with one bishop each were everywhere. My mom looked confused and said, “The bishop? Why would I ask the bishop????” It was just a funny side memory, because my mom didn't realize the disconnect in the meaning of that title across denominations.
But back to the show Big Love. It took a lot of mental gymnastics to watch that show! A marriage with four people instead of only two really gets convoluted. The three women all slept with Bill and considered themselves married to Bill, even though only one was legal, but they weren't lesbians and didn't sleep with each other. There were never three ways or four ways. They had a schedule for “who gets Bill” when. But the three women all talked to each other and used lingo with each other as if they were married to each other. In their eyes, they were.
Bill grew up on the polygamist compound where his second wife Nikki came from, and his parents were also polygamists. However, he was exiled as a teenager by his father. This is very common in polygamist groups. It's referred to as “polygamy’s lost boys”. It's because in any society/group of people, it's likely to always be roughly half male and half female. Any time you get pregnant, it's literally always a 50/50 chance of having a boy or a girl. So what happens is that polygamists have a ton of kids, and the next generation is roughly half male and half female like the rest of planet earth. But the men are only considered worthy to go to heaven if they have at least three wives. The more the better. This results in teenage boys being seen as competition for the younger girls. The men want to keep taking wives, and as the young people get old enough to marry, the older men don't want the younger men marrying the younger women, so they exile them in very horrible, abusive ways. Most of the time, when you hear about abuses on polygamist compounds, you only hear about the abuses towards girls and women. The lost boys aren't talked about. But they're pretty much a mathematical inevitability. In the show, when Bill was exiled by his father, he went out into the world and made something of himself, joined the mainstream LDS, met Barb, and then after years of marriage to her, he realized he wanted to be a polygamist too, and married Nikki and later Margie.
The show has all viewers asking how they would feel about sharing their spouses. No, I wouldn't want to share Kevin. When I was married to Anna’s father, I wouldn't have wanted to share him either. If I had married Matt, I wouldn't have wanted to share him. But when I was on again/off again with my long-distance boyfriend in Arizona, I suspected he saw someone else, but didn't care. I didn't care, because I knew that it was expected of me to be single, independent, and not need/want a man. But going to see him was still fun. People who knew about it were mad that he was a single parent (even though I was too- make it make sense). People were angry and said I “needed to get her side of the story.” One time I said, if she sends her kids a birthday card with five bucks, I might care about her side of the story. My daughter’s stepmother never cared about my side of the story. I even got yelled at once as if I didn't know how to add one plus two. “Do you realize that if you marry him, YOU WILL HAVE THREE KIDS?” Yes. I know that his two kids plus mine would make three.
With all of this outside influence, I didn't consider him a real relationship and knew I wasn't supposed to want one anyway. So the possibility of him seeing someone else was moot..
Women who grow up and are in polygamist spaces are actually taught that they are supposed to share their husbands as a part of God’s will. I understand being ok with something due to your surroundings, due to my complicated feelings about my long-distance relationship. I was born and raised and still live in a society where polygamy isn't the norm, so of course it makes sense that I wouldn't “want to share my husband”. I wonder how I'd feel about it if I were raised in that world, though. Your surroundings shape your beliefs more than you know!!
At the end of the show, as a senator, Bill initiated legislation to legalize plural marriage. It was an extremely emotional scene. He made a lot of good points.
I do believe that there isn't anything wrong with polygamy and polyamory. Yes, there are good points for making it legal. The problematic part is when you start bringing salvation and God’s will into it. If God really wanted every man to have three wives, then babies would be born at a rate of 75% female and 25% male (at least). And this goes for everything else in life- what's right for some will never be right for “everyone”
That's just the way it is.
In the last two seasons, Bill has become a major asshole. In the first three seasons, he's only a little bit asshole. The ass-holiness grows exponentially when he runs for office. At the end, I believe he redeems himself greatly before he gets shot and killed by one of his many enemies.
I really really admired the writing in this series. It was so good at capturing many elements around a specific topic, and this is what I strive to do when I write.
The epilogue sucked- I wish there could be a season six with just the wives. It could happen. Bill the character and Bill the actor both are dead, but all three main actresses are alive and could pull it off. Eh maybe they will someday.
Yesterday I was in a pretty rural part of the country near the Texas/Louisiana border. I was doing inventory of all the merchandise sold at the checkout lines, and the two teenagers working there as cashiers were cracking me up. (A boy and a girl). They were clearly flirting with each other, and they were arguing about who should be homecoming royalty.
Then, a customer came in who they knew on a first name basis. This customer looked like he had done some methamphetamines in his life. He was bald and had no teeth, and just looked worn. They conversed with him quite a bit actually and obviously knew him. Then, he paid for his stuff and left. The boy cashier said jealously to the girl cashier, “I think he likes you. I think he was flirting with you.” The girl cashier said, “ew! I don’t want that old man! He’s like 32!”
I had not been talking to these kids at all, just eavesdropping, but I laughed out loud.
Was that man actually 32, because the features he had from apparent past drug use made him look about 60. Or, was the number “32” just, in the girl’s mind, this extremely old age? Of course it’s too old to be flirting with her, but the way she said “That old man is like 32” made me think that either she just thinks 32 is really old- or he really was 32 and meth really is that much of a hell of a drug. I told Kevin and he said, “Maybe he was really 39.” I bust out laughing again.
At the same time as our engagement, the pastor of the college age ministries was preaching a sermon series on the will of God not being your will. We in that group were all at the age where we were figuring out what to do with our lives. We were picking majors and working while attending college. About half of us were paired into relationships. One thing was for certain though, as I listened to the sermon series on the will of God- I knew that marrying Caleb and having children was “my will”. It’s what I wanted more than anything else aside from my faith in God. I ended my relationship with Caleb after I heard the following concepts in church:
Proverbs 14:12 “There is a way that seems right unto a man, but in the end it leads to death.” (Marrying Caleb and having kids seemed right to me, did that mean it would lead to death?)
Proverbs 19:21 “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it’s the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” (My plan being to marry Caleb and have a family was something that God would have to prevail over?)
Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto your own understanding.” (My own understanding was that I wanted to marry Caleb and have kids, was trusting the Lord the opposite of this? As in, I couldn’t do both?)
I remember our pastor Jacob saying “Doing what makes you happy is so bad for Christians. We aren’t called to do what makes us happy, we are called to glorify God.
Sadness persists. I don’t think I’m going to be able to write the book I want to write. The book would have been based on my experiences working with kids. It would have told a story, raised awareness, and made people laugh simultaneously. I think the book was my ultimate life calling. Nonetheless, I’m still going to try and bring my laptop with me to Louisiana, since I get more writing inspiration in motel rooms.
We go to Louisiana and the Beaumont, TX area every three months for inventory. The workdays are very long, but at least the motel rooms have bath tubs and the stores we do carry epsom salts. Kevin and I joked that we’re going to go out after work to a Cajun club and dance like this. Those two really got it, don’t they? I don’t think Kevin can dance at all, but I could probably do some of that with some practice.
They called me again regarding my appointment on 10/2, which was now three damn weeks ago. They told me I have iron deficient anemia and to take OTC supplements. So I got them yesterday and took one last night, am about to take one once we leave for work. I’m hoping these make me feel not so drained.
My mother attempted to apologize and sent me a picture of the three granddaughters of one of her good friends. The oldest of the three girls is 19 and was just recently declared cancer free. Then my mom started criticizing the girl’s appearance. As soon as she did, I said I gotta go. Dammit. You’d think by the time you get to be 80, you’d learn to be a better person than to make fun of a teenager who has been battling cancer for two years. If I said anything, she would have called me a goody two shoes or something.
Here’s some more Cajun dancing to get me in the mood for Louisiana. I actually think that guy in that video is cute.
20 years ago, the popular way to make homemade laundry detergent was just grated Zote soap, Borax, and washing soda.
This one is different. All of the ingredients cost about $30 the first time I made it several months ago. We were getting low but not really anywhere near “out” so I thought I’d buy the ingredients again. This time, they were a little cheaper and totaled $26. They are:
One tub of oxy
1 and a half bars of Zote soap grated. Kevin helped with this since I had some hand pain, and he laughed at himself the whole time.
One box of borax
One box of washing soda
One four pound box of baking soda
One tub of scent boosters
The oxy comes with a scoop. Use this scoop to scoop the detergent. Only use 1/3-1/2 of the scoop depending on how soiled everything is. The lady online said this lasts her a year and she has five kids. She doubles it though.
Last night, I tried to go to bed in my own bed, but Kevin was diagonal, so I went in the other room. I started to fall asleep to one of my favorite true crime channels. He started to talk about a married couple that was murdered in Arizona. I was not paying attention until he said where the wife worked. She was the nurse at the child abuse emergency shelter that I worked at in the early 2000’s. The staff at this shelter had a TON of preexisting tension, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Being so young and having such a low self esteem and having grown up with it instilled in me that I couldn’t do anything, I internalized a lot of the hatred between the others. It was hard to deal with while taking care of kids in precarious circumstances. I have a lot of trauma and vicarious trauma from that job. I remember being on the road from Phoenix to Houston for the first time ever and thinking, I will not be surprised if some of those people murder each other.
The only thing I remember about the nurse was her blonde hair that was just above shoulder length. I only really had one interaction with her, when she was teaching me how to give kids breathing treatments with a nebulizer. I only found out about the unsolved murder of her and her husband last night. I had no idea. I want to clarify that I did submit an anonymous tip with details about the tension among staff members in the early 2000’s. I just really hope that my anonymous tip doesn’t make anyone think that I’m accusing anyone. I cannot prove my suspicions, I can only hope that they believe what I tell them and look into it if they can. I do not believe they suspected her workplace, because their obituary stated to donate to the shelter where we worked. After I find out what they are going to do with my anonymous tip, if anything, I’ll talk more about her and her husband in detail. The murder is unsolved to this day, and there is evidence that several individuals were involved. They also think the couple knew the perpetrators.
Even though the episode and finding out that she was murdered gave me some anxiety, I forced myself to relax and try to sleep. Then, I started experiencing sleep paralysis for the first time in my life. It was very scary.
I was in the state that you’re in just as you start to drift to sleep- I wasn’t asleep yet. I couldn’t move at all but was aware of my surroundings and had a hallucination of a young blonde female putting her hand over my mouth. This video explains the medical reasons behind sleep paralysis, and anxiety and PTSD are underlying conditions. I’ve never experienced this in my life, nor have I ever hallucinated. I was finally able to get up and walk to my own bedroom and shake Kevin up enough to move over so I could get in bed. I’m afraid this means I have to see a psychiatrist. I really dislike psychiatrists. I know I probably need to tell my therapist, which is ironic, because she was just literally saying to stay away from true crime. She does know about the trauma and vicarious trauma I endured at that job almost 25 years ago though.
Writing was going well until this week. I have completely fallen off the bandwagon of having a daily goal and have lost all inspiration. So here’s some more pics.
I took this picture at HEB of the pumpkin patch. I love this hippo, and I love when hippos munch on whole pumpkins
Today, I was reminded of the case of Charles Bothuel. He went on Nancy Grace to talk about his missing son (who he was actually abusing) when Nancy Grace got breaking news, This Just In, that the kid was found in his basement. The interview was awesome. Did you check your basement, lol.
My ex boyfriend and I watched this clip years ago and remember what a dumbass the dad looked like. Plus, as soon as he heard that his son who was missing several days was alive, he said “Oh Shit”
I also requested some of my mother in law’s cat Buck with a restored ear. They really went overboard on his ear tip. There's the before and after. They even gave him a
Fireplace.
I took October 2 off for two appointments- fasting bloodwork in the morning at my PCP, and a mammogram in the afternoon. I was completely out of refills on metformin and atorvastatin.
My PCP is a chain of clinics. The last time I went in Houston, a medical assistant and a nurse practitioner both gave me absolute hell about the fact that a psychiatrist gave me gabapentin for anxiety four years ago. They made it very clear that they were against that. So this time, I just called the appointment line and requested to go to another location. My appointment on 10/2 was at the Magnolia clinic, which I’d never been to. I made it very clear that I was there for metformin and atorvastatin, I was fasting, and knew they would want bloodwork. Everything went well, and they were very pleasant. Gabapentin wasn’t brought up other than to ask if I still take it. I simply replied, “Sometimes, but I’m really just here for metformin and atorvastatin refills.” Because that was the truth. With so many people becoming anti gabapentin in 2025, I only take it sometimes in order to save it for when my anxiety is really bad. And I really was only there for the other two. Nothing was said after that about gabapentin at my appointment. Everyone was pleasant, I checked out, and went for breakfast.
Fast forward to Sunday the 5th- three days later. My phone rang at 2:00 pm, and it was a woman from the PCP clinic chain. She said she was calling about gabapentin, and proceeded to accost me about how it’s a controlled substance, off label for anxiety, and this that and the next thing. I was completely caught off guard. By this point, they had already called in the metformin and atorvastatin, and I was able to already have picked up 90 day supplies of each. I had to cut this woman off from talking in order to get a word in edgewise, and reiterated that I did not ask for gabapentin at my 10/2 appointment, and didn’t appreciate her calling me on a Sunday. She combative argued that they do call people on Sunday, and I mean the whole thing was just out of line. I eventually decided to hang up on her, because all things said and done, I did already have the refills I needed. I got very shaken up after that phone call, though. It was extremely unnecessary, especially since I was actively trying to avoid the topic of gabapentin. I decided that I am going to have to start over with a new PCP, and just not ever tell them that I was ever on gabapentin.
It’s extremely difficult to find a new PCP, because when I call my insurance and ask for other doctors, they give me doctors that are unavailable for any number of reasons. I can only achieve this by changing plans after open enrollment. Luckily, I have enough metformin and atorvastatin to last me through open enrollment.
Yesterday while working, I thought to myself- I never got my bloodwork results. They were so worried about the gabapentin, that I never got what I actually went in for. The last time I had my A1C checked, it was 5.8. Some sources call 5.8 the lowest number to be considered pre diabetic, and some sources say 5.7 is the lowest end of pre diabetic. I’ve been working hard at my eating habits- there have been cheat days here and there, but I would say I’ve made huge improvements to how I eat. So I finished my section, stepped outside, and called the PCP main number. I asked for my results, and a man on the other line said, “Well I have them right here in front of me but I can’t give them to you.” I said, “Can I speak to someone who can?” He was like, “The doctor has to read them and then they’ll call you back.” I begrudgingly accepted that answer, but then called back again in about an hour. I explained firmly that I really needed to know my A1C, because I’ve been working hard at my eating habits. The person I was talking to this time transferred me to a nurse who told me, “Your A1C last time was 5.8, and this time it was 5.6.”
I said, “Good! Thank you!” And hung up. At this point, I am thinking of just blocking them. The guy I talked to first who couldn’t give me the results sounded like he actually could, especially since I called an hour later, talked to someone else, and got them. I really, really needed to not tell anyone anymore that I was ever given gabapentin for anxiety. It’s not just this one clinic entity that has given me a hard time. Pharmacies have a huge problem with gabapentin all of a sudden, and I have tried three new psychiatrists who have all been very hostile when I mention I was given this four years ago for anxiety.
I would be willing to try other things if they didn’t give me a side effect called Akathisia. They say Akathisia is caused by antipsychotic medication, but SSRI’s can cause it too. I have experienced Akathisia even on low doses of SSRI medications and Buspar. I have experienced it on all the medications that a psychiatrist would “try” me on if I went to one as a new patient. Akathisia isnactially worse than anxiety. I spent about five years blaming myself for it until the elderly female psychiatrist I saw in about 2021 that said “How about gabapentin?” She was a godsend- or was she? It's because of her that I've gotten the terrible treatment that I've gotten, but if I didn't have gabapentin in 2021-2024, I'm not sure I could have achieved what I have.
I have grown to hate mental health “advocates” who are like, “You deserve to be heard!” or, “You just gotta try different medication until you find what works!” My least favorite statement/sentiment is, “Going to the doctor for anxiety or depression is JUST like going to the doctor for a broken bone or diabetes!” My story over the past few years absolutely proves that it isn't. If I could show what medication works for me via bloodwork or imaging, then I would in a heartbeat. But I can only talk about it. If my story matched with their agenda, if I said, “Yeah escitalopram works wonders, in fact I can't live without it!” then they'd go “wow proof we do amazing things!” but since I'm saying gabapentin works, all of a sudden patient testimony isn't really diagnostic criteria anymore. I can see through the BS now.
On a much better note, I guess I am no longer pre diabetic. Proof that changing your habits works! I'm really proud of myself. Hopefully in January, I can see a new PCP, never mention gabapentin, and achieve an A1C of less than 5.6 maybe I can even stop taking metformin.
First things first- the wife of one of my cousins gave birth to their second child. It’s a boy, and there’s no need to give the baby’s full name, but trust me when I say, the initials are very unfortunate. They are ASS. The baby’s initials are ASS. My mother is already referring to him as “baby ass” and he’s not even a week old yet. And honestly, I’ll get to what happened yesterday. I’ll just let the news of baby ass sit with yall my readers. No one is mentioning it to the proud new parents, because no one is sure if they did this on purpose or if they genuinely didn’t think of what his initials would be. As for me, I always considered initials, even for hypothetical babies I never had.
