#143....Rev. Jena, Our Angel For everyone who loves Rev. Jena Roy

      I am writing this blog entry at about 1:40 in the morning.  Usually when I write, I listen to music, specifically, The Moody Blues.  Not this time.
     I have been sitting in relative silence except for the sound of the fan, and my sweet, deaf cat's snoring beside me.  I have been thinking about Rev. Jena, for the last 4 hours, and how she impacted my life.
     Up until this point, everytime I thought of Jena, I cried.  She was a remarkable, wonderful, spiritual person.
     I can't tell you with accuracy, when we met.  The years have been rather rough on me, with, numerous visits to psychiatric hospitals, for treatment of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Schizoaffective Disorder, Panic Disorder   I was prescibed almost lobotomizing medications, I experienced Electro-Convulzive Therapy (shock treatments), many times.   All of this contributed to memory loss, over the years.  I would give anytthing, to remember my times with Jena.
    What I can tell you, is that Jena never judged me, for my illlnesses, she visited me, prayed with me, and sent me notes when I was in the hospital  She always had a great hug for me and my husband, Frank.  She told me that she loved me, and referred to me as "Sweet Christine".
     My heart broke, when she told me that she didn't want to die.  Honestly, I didn't quite know what to say, but I replied "Jena, you're going to Paradise"  Jena said: "I know", and we talked about how all those, that she'd loved and lost, human and animal, would be waiting to see her again.
      Rev. Jena was just 49 years old, and died from the horrible disease of cancer.  I think about her children, which are only in theire early twenties, and still need their Mom.  Peolpe have mentioned that they were concerned for me, over Jena's passing.  I am hurting, like all of us who knew Jena are.
     I feel blessed that she was in my life.  I felt blessed to attened her Ordinaition.  I was, in some way blessed to be able to see her one last time, I was blessed to be her friend.  Rest In Peace, Jena,

# 142 My Unintentional Break From Writing

     I think that, I should have written in this blog, quite some time ago, however, circumstances, did not permit
     I was  really phsically ill, with vomitting, nausea, coughing, and lung pain.  It was an on and off thing.  I went to the doctor's several times, and spent several hours in the  Emergency Room of a nearby hospital.,  I was  very sick, some days,   Some days I wasn't  as sick.  Honestly, throughout this time, I didn't feel quite right.
      I have asthma, and my lungs are suseptable to bronchitis, and bronchilitis.   During these times I feel major pain in my lungs, and breathing is difficult.  I can't take prednisone, which is the prefferred drug of choice by doctors.  But prednisone gives me crazy, scary  thoughts.
     I have diabetes, so, it really doesn't help, if you can't eat..  Honestly, I dont know how I survive on my lack of appetite.  It seems that I live on coffee and Coca-Cole, with an occasional meal at dinner time.
     I felt down a lot of this time.  I missed several days at  my job,   My body and my mind were imbalanced because I couldn't eat much, and I felt like shit.
      Basically, I had no ambition to write.  It happens when mental illness strikes

#141

     I,  had been travelling through life, OK,..  Or,.It least, that is what I had told myself,  lately.
      Mental illness and PTSD, have fooled me many, times.    I didn't know that things were going wrong.  I felt somewhat numb.
     It was my husband, who told me, that I was going through psychiatric discomfort, recently.  My husband is amazing.  He can pick up my behaviors amd tics, right away, and know, that I am going through HELL..
     Still, I cannot help, feeling scared, sometimes terrified.

#140...Will The Anger Within Me Ever Die?

    I am mostly easy going, kind, gentle, intelligent.   But within me, there is a lot of anxiety, a lot of heartbreak, a lot of sorrow,  a lot of frustration,  and a lot of anger.
     I have mentioned this, at points in this blog, that my father abused me, and my half sister and half brother, in a very sick way.
     In my late teens, I felt compelled to help my half sister, and I told her what happened to me.  My father found out and cut off all contact that I had with my half siblings.
     I think that the loss of my half siblings was worse than the abuse, that I endured, at my father's hands.  It has been over 30 years since I have had a relationship with them.
      Last, I heard, my half brother , said that my claims were "bullshit".  My half sister tried writing to me, until our father told her " that she would never see her mother again, if she kept writing to me".
    I don't have any other siblings.  How do I resolve this heartbreak?
     I thought that I was doing alright, but my husband knows me very well, and told me, that I was having problems, that I was thinking of my father and my half siblings a lot.

#139...Remarkable Broad

      Recently, I went to see my physician for a physical.   During my physical, Dr. K. said to me:
"I just want you to know, that you are extremely intelligent   I don't think that you realize how intelligent you are."  "Really?" I said.  "Yes", Dr. K. said.  "How do you know this?"  I said.  Dr. K. said "I have been your doctor for at least 15 years."  "As a doctor, I have met a lot of people, but you are one of the most intelligent, that I have met."
     "Don't ever sell yourself short", she said.   "You have had a lot of  ups and downs in your life, but you always pull yourself up and out of it."   Then she said:  "You are one remarkable broad".
      Dr. K.'s compliment was one of the best that I have ever heard.  It moved me to tears, in fact.
Dr. K. was scheduled to retire, the day after I saw her.  I am missing her, so much.

#138.....Little Sister

     I may have mentioned, at some point, in this blog, that I have a younger sister and a younger brother.  Technically, they are my half-siblings, by my father's later, second marriage.   They meant so much to me.
     My father emotionally, physically, verbally, and sexually abused me.  When I told my younger sister,  that our father had molested me, I was banished  from the family.  My father turned my brother and sister against me.  My father threatened to sue me for "slander".
     I was 18 years old, at the time.   They were adolescents.   You can't tell me that he didn't abuse his other children, too.  He's one sick bastard.
     I tried to speak to my brother, years later, He called me a "liar", and said that my story was "bullshit".
     My sister tried to contact me, when she became a young adult.  But our father told her that if she didn't cut off  all contact with me, that she would never see her mother alive again.
      Every time I lost my brother and sister, I felt as if death had occurred.   I mourned so deeply for years and years.
     My therapist suggested that I try to contact my younger sister, by sending her a letter.  In truth, I'm not sure that I can.   What if she rejects me again?    I know that my younger brother is a lot like my father....stubborn, verbally abusive, racist, chauvenistic, etc., etc., etc.  I will not be contacting him, sadly.
      Does anybody out there, have any ideas for me, about contacting my "little sister"?  

#137.....Surviving Illness

     I have been, incredibly irritable for the last two weeks.  Every time my wonderful husband tries to talk to me, I want to scream : "Shut The Fuck Up!  Leave Me The Hell Alone!!".   Even his asking me if I want a cup of coffee, in the morning,, is causing me to feel hostile.
     As time goes on, I realize, that I have a  nasty cold virus.   I am battling it, as best that I can, but still, I feel miserably ill.  My sinuses are leaking like crazy.  My chest is uncomfortable.   I could use some cough syrup, with codeine in it.
      It seems that every time I become physically ill, I become mentally ill.   Usually, I feel deep depression, and horrible anxiety, when I am physically ill.
     It makes sense.  My body, can only handle so much, before it breaks down.  But still  I feel frustated, aggravated, basically, a mess.
     It is hard to explain this, to my friends.  For most of my friends, Nyquil, will save them from their colds.  For me...I worry about my life.  Like, can I survive this?