Dealing

So, as you all know, I have not been having a happy few months. Unhappy enough that I started therapy two weeks ago because of it. Well, things are looking up, and I don't think its from lying on a couch talking about what makes me so depressed, bitchy, etc. Nope, it was a trip home and a talk with both my mammaw and my aunt.

I hate cemetaries at night. Can't stand them, guess I watched too many horror movies as a kid, and now too many romance novels with sci fi twists that still keep cemetaries off limits at night for me. Yeah, it makes Ian's ultimate fantasy a bit hard to preform, but there are still a few years before I will even think about that. I do love cemetaries in the day, not the more modern ones with the headstones that are flat to the earth to make care taking easier. I love the ones with the weeping angels looking over children's graves, mausoleums peering out through a small foresty area, large tombstones with Mother Mary's, crosses, and even the occasional personal likeness. I guess that is why I like going to visit and talk to my Mammaw so much. I drive out to mogadore, and in a small country area there is Saint Michaels Cemetary and to the first tombstone to on the left is the graves of my Mammaw and her hubby, my Great Grandpa Homa. Sure, I never met him, but my mammaw, she was something else. She is the one who kept my family together, all barely hundred pounds of her. She could beat up her boys, and guilt the women over the tiniest things, and well, she was one of the few Homa's who liked my mother right off the bat. Maybe it was the size similarities, who knows. She always babysat all of us kids, me, my sister, my cousins, all of us. She would also yell at all of us, and then force us to eat apple sauce, hot dogs, and kraft mac and cheese. Okay so maybe force is not the correct term, it was more like she would get out the pans to make it and by the time she turned around to go to the pantry, we would be sitting at the dining room table. She was always so proud of us, and so when we lost her when I was in second grade, it sucked majorly. Now my sister and I make sure to visit her weekly for her, and whenever I am home. It feels weird to not drive out by ourselves and have a few minutes "conversing" with our mammaw. We go out, tell her what is going on, whats wrong with us, how much we miss her, kiss her tombstone and leave. Its more therapeutic than sitting at my spot in the park, and normally I feel better immediately.

Then while I was home, I spent more time with my Aunt Shell than normal. Alone time with her which is not normal at all. We ran her errands, which were mainly to all the stores I had gone to earlier in the day. J.C. Penneys, Borders, Walgreens, Staples, Michael , and then to her house to show off all the butterfly stuff she has for her new little house which is being worked on right now. Of course, she has a ton of stuff for the house, and I have already offered to buy a set of pictures off of her. Even better than the shopping though was the talking. First I felt guilty telling her my problems when she is still getting over the loss of her husband, my Green Bay lovin Uncle Jon/Frog. But then, I just let it out because she assured me that it was alright, that everyone gets down on themselves at times and its often best to just let it out. She also bought me a book on positive thinking, which though it took me a few days to crack open, and since it was written by a preacher, I am following her advice and sticking to a chapter a night. She tried all the way through when she first bought a copy for herself, and well, she could not do it. So she waited a few months and tried again, once chapter per night and that worked best. After reading the first four chapters of it, I agree, one chapter per night, and have something enjoyable to read afterwords or else you will be dreaming about bible verses all night long. I have to thank her for that again when I am done reading it, it has really helped.

So though things are getting better, and I am letting go of the Blanda thing, and the Florida thing, its tough to think about the fact that in 13 days, it will be a year from the incident, and I will be score keeping by day, lying out on the beach with that positive thinking book at night.

Love You All
Laurel Lee