I have so many good blog posts. words pouring from my head. beautiful words elegantly strung together. almost melodically. but by the time I sit down in front of the computer they are gone. just a heap of mismatched phrases that are just a skeleton of the masterpiece that had unfolded earlier.

my head is always blogging. constantly banging out stories and recalling small pieces of our life. meant to be placed here. but then they are gone. this is the part about writing that I hate. if I were more diligent I would record them as they come to me. but I am not always in a position where I can. and I have actually tried this a few times. but by the time I was sitting down listening to myself and typing the words out it just felt so fake. and creepy. so I am left with these beautiful words twisting around in my head. and no one will ever hear them. and I know it is not as if I have something monumental and life changing to say that anyone particularly needs to hear. I would just like to get the words out.

one day I will get the hang of it I guess. I am disappointed that I don't blog more. even if no one ever read my blog I would still want to do it. I have always enjoyed writing. getting things out of my head are always better than leaving them in there. it helps my sanity. which is in short supply these days. not having internet at the house does not help. it leaves me with having to blog from work or make a special trip into town to hit up free wifi. yes. I said into town. because I live in the country. and our café is only open till 3:00 in the afternoon. don't judge.

while I am here let us talk about mid life crisis. I feel that I have had a few of them. as strange as that sounds. points in my life where I just don't understand where I am and why I am not where I want to be; points where I am angry at circumstances, most out of my control; moments in time where my internal hater is in overdrive; sadness over what I should have done and regrets from the past. I have tried to refer to them as mid life acceptances. because really in my house it seems like crisis is a constant state. and to me it is more about just accepting where you are. I feel as if I am at that point again. I am nearing 40. I do not have a degree and I am not certified so continuing in what I have been doing off and on since 1997 is no longer becoming a choice. but then that leaves me with just experience on the other things I have been doing since the age of 16. as they say I am a jack of all trades and master of none. and it is frustrating. Lil'K and all of her issues are making it hard for me to work and make enough money to afford things. like a car. and food. having Big'K in college (a post I keep meaning to write) and no longer home has me depending on neighbors in the after school hours to watch Lil'K so I can work. I teeter back and forth between wanting to go back to school and wanting to get an RV and just leave. being responsible and just hanging in there and paying things off or just saying screw the pooch and let the car go back. I have waves of anger that a house fire can completely financially destroy you as well as why must everything be so hard for me. always. I will pass through. I always do. but wow. then I just do the human - why am I here and certainly there must be something else I am supposed to be doing because life certainly cannot be this shitty and then just boom it's over. right?

we are a little more than a month away from the year mark since the fire. I would love to tell you things are awesome. that everything is back to normal. and things are looking up. but not all of that would be the truth.

I don't think we will ever have a normal.

the house is coming. little by little it starts to come together. and it will be awesome. watching it transform from two steel school buildings into what we consider a home has been neat. being excited to have a wall here or a door there. seeing another wall has been painted. brought to life with color. knowing how much love has gone into each brush stroke and driven nail. enjoying the days that cousins from my mother's side of the family have come with wood and ladders and tools and more importantly full hearts and hands at the ready. watching a wall covered with 30 year old cedar planks from the sides of the yellow house that were uncovered after the fire. using the chalkboards that were in the Tin Beast to cover other walls. having privacy when we take a shower or use the toilet because the walls have been covered all the way around and we have doors. we have doors!! the little things that so many other people take for granted everyday. that is the part that is awesome.

noticing how different other people are in their opinions of what makes a house and having to hear their criticism and justify your situation is not awesome. a lot of people don't 'get' the house. they don't understand why we did not build a house. because hello money. or fix the other one. because hello FIRE. their faces trying to hold a smile but contort when they see how the inside is. no walls? just one big continuous room split into three bedrooms? but how do you sleep? well I am so sorry, I did not realize that the thing that allows us to sleep are the walls between rooms. if only I had been smart enough to realize that. because obviously that is the problem. how on earth do people in warehouse flats make it. or a third of the world who live in one room houses or mud huts or tents. dear baby J. if only I were as smart as these people. then all my problems would be solved. people are so small minded and quick to criticize. namely my own family.

but then there are the believers. the ones who say well it sounds a little different but let me see it. and after visiting, 'get' it. everyone has a different ideal of what makes a home. some choose brick and mortar. others will choose wood. some have hay bales and others grain silos or shipping containers. some are huge and expansive and others are compact and tiny. some even made of all glass, just mind the stones that are thrown. in my mind, whatever you make a house out of, if you fill it with love, then it becomes a home. cook in it. share laughs in it. shed tears in it. do what you do. have tons of love. and it is home. although so many may not agree or get it or not understand...yes the big ugly corrugated tin building with no windows on the front is my home. and we have lovingly coined it 'The Tin Beast' and it is filled with love. love for ourselves and for all who enter the french doors to the breezeway. if the only feeling ever to come from The Beast is love, then we will forever be happy and rich.

lately it has been quiet. which has been strange. Big'K has gone to college. two years early. to a special program for gifted kids and those that in general just worked their butts off to get there. Big'K is the former, not so much the latter. but she is loving it. mom however is sad and conflicted. but she is oh so happy and I cannot take that from her. she loves it. and truly at the point we were at it was a life or death moment for her to get out of the house and move on with her. being her. finding her. making her. and working on her future. after the fire 'home' became too much. it was too emotional. too raw. and with Lil'K...too everything. had she stayed in the home with the sadness and the anger she would have caved inward. and I truly believe her spirit would have died. she had to get out to be able to live. and I will never begrudge her for that. I understand. there were times when I was a teenager that had I had the support to flee and work on me things would have been so different than they are now. so I am super proud of her. and happy over the hills.

Lil'K is a different story. she has been in four crisis units in less than a calendar year. three of them in the last ten weeks. we have been living in hell. her voices are back. suicidal ideation rules the day. she just wants to die. my beautiful smart sweet loving little girl wants to die. every day. and she is serious. our area sucks. we have no resources for mental illness for her age. getting her help has been a battle. one that we have been fighting hard. we have new diagnosis' everytime we come home from a crisis unit. mood disorder, NOS; bi-polar with psychotic features; RAD; anxiety disorder; ODD; and the list continues. I fear they just really don't know. and neither do we. it has become our normal. and I hate it. she does not understand why Big G made her this way. to have to live like this for the rest of her life. it is not fair. and she feels that he wants her to be with him. to hear a child so small say these things will break you. in half. and your heart will never recover. and hope is very hard to find. for either of us.

YaYa is tired. and Loco of course. and broken. sad. overwhelmed. struggling. tearful. turned inside out. financially cleared out. angry. raw. impatient. confused. upset. frustrated. and just plain pissed. I struggle between wanting to do what is best for her and working and keeping her in school and keeping her alive and oh my Big G this medicine is expensive and sweet baby J are we having rice again and please help me find money in my budget for food and wow is it this Friday that the lights get turned off and please please don't let me have to let my car go back and boy I really wanna be able to work from home and thankful for my job and I need a nap and please help us find relief and tomorrow is a new day and oh dear heavens tomorrow is a new day and I am not sure I can take another day. people don't understand. they see her and think there is no way. well big ole world there is most certainly a way and it is mental illness. yes she is only 9. yes she wants to kill herself. oh how am I holding up? well thanks for asking. I'm not. oh that's nice. really? and sure go ahead and make nice and walk away. because you don't know what to say. trust me it is just as scary and unbelievable to me too honey. and if one more person tells me He doesn't give you more than you can handle I'm gonna freaking blow a gasket because fuck you.

it is strange what your normal can become. and how you adjust. and then how people think they want to know but when they truly see it's oh we are praying for you and we understand. and I just wanna stand on a corner and scream "my child has mental illness and you can all go to hell!! but hey come by and have coffee with me in the breezeway because it makes me feel normal". I can say I must have had a very colorful previous life because I am paying out the nose for all my bad karma. and this is not just one lifetime full of payback.

oh universe. you silly thing you.

you always know. always.

sometimes bad. sometimes good.

horrendous and miraculous.

but you know.

I literally cried all weekend. yes it was mother's day. I know this. but Friday and Sunday tried to kill me. I swear it. worked so hard on trying to get the washer hooked up. got the hoses hooked up and boom...water spraying everywhere. I cried. get the water situation fixed and there is still a cap on the drain. I cried. I even sent out an SOS on the book of faces. it simply said "Please send: flathead screwdriver, hammer and beer." within a few minutes I commented "found screwdriver and hammer" needless to say quite a few friends say the cry for help and started trying to mobilize a beer drop. I popped the cover off finally. I still cried. got it all ready to go and them boom...no electricity to the outlet. so I cried. one of my neighbors showed up. saw the state I was in and immediately left. but came back with beer! I cried again.

Saturday was great. we spent the day with the BFF and Big'R, who celebrated a birthday; as well as Lil'R. got to see Mid'K and Juice too. ate some awesome sushi and had some yummy froyo. walked around window shopping and just having a great time in general. left to come home after a wonderful day and cried. because it was one of the best days I have had in a while. and I miss the BFF and the kids so so much.

Sunday decided to hand me once since Saturday went so well. the electrician showed up and fixed the plugs so everything was golden on that end. I plugged in the washer and voila! we had power people. one small step for mom means no tears today. so then I decided to hook up the dryer. and realized that the cord was not hooked in yet. I struggled to get the plate off. cried. could get the wire hooked in but could NOT get the tension-relief-strain-stopper-don't-pull-the-cord-out-the-back thingamajig done. my hands would not work right. years of carpal tunnel and neuropathy have taken their toll. that screw seemed so small and my hands so big and clumsy. so I cried. and cried. and Lil'K stayed away because she thought I was nuts. and I was crying. and mom never cries. or at least she never used to this much. I eventually got the damned wire and tension thing done and in. could not wait to plug it in and get going. go to plug it in...wrong receptacle. the range and dryer outlets were backwards. cue more tears. luckily the electrician was still there and came and switched them around. plugged in...power. yay! wash a load. yay! move to dryer... fuck. we still had not cut the hole to vent the dryer. are. you. serious. tears. more tears. cussing. flinging of things. frustration. defeat.

between the washer and dryer and Friday and Sunday I can honestly say I was defeated by the weekend. and laundry apparently. it happens. just normally with much fewer crying.

the funny thing is where I work we have donors. and one of them is a younger guy. my age. and he was asking about how things were going. and as I was telling him you could see the horror on his face. "what in the hell is wrong with you? crying and shit. you've lost your inner dude. you are totally a girl now. we need to bring you out for beer and wings and man your ass up." I laughed and laughed. but it was so true. it seems like ever since I lost my uterus I lost my dudeness. yeah. do not ask me how that works, but it happened that way. me. crying and shit. jeez. I have been so weepy lately. like a big pansy. argh. this house thing is gonna be the death of me.

needless to say after all the book of faces posts and stories my cousin Harley has organized a group of people that are coming over this coming Sunday to help. Baby J send in the calvary! the universe heard me. and has sent an angel. it was supposed to be a surprise but she had to oust it because she had questions. and wanted to make sure I was up for it. and had a list. so yeah. surprise ruined. but that is ok. because I still do not know who all is coming. so that will be nice. I have made a list. and answered her questions about what I need and do not need. they are bringing food and help and paint and all kind of stuff. and just help. help. and I am ok with that at this point.

 and I am sure I will cry again. but it will be good tears. not tears of frustration. or anger. or sadness.

when i get quiet and still i can still feel it. smell it. hear it.

i still have nightmares. more nights than not. everything is on fire.

i have panic attacks so many times a day that i lose count. my chest is tight constantly.

it is still there. like a big  yellow sore thumb. staring at me. taunting me.

the hollowed out room of Big'K with it's burnt windows. the blackened windows in all the rooms.

but the outside looks fine. what's the problem? what do you mean you can't live in it? it's fine from the outside!

people are dicks. they don't know. they don't see what is hidden behind the bright yellow siding.

fire makes you a burden. on others. on yourself. emotionally. physically. it makes you feel helpless. and worthless. and stupid.

it has been 195 days since my house caught fire. a lot of the details are blurry. i remember parts of it. i wrote down what i could remember. i will share it. just not today.

i just mostly remember panic. horrible panic. this crazy screaming bitch. who could not calm down. and was just screaming. and hyperventilating. and shouting nonsense. and it was me. the one who never panics. straight the fuck panicked. like a crazy person.

the thing is it really isn't about the stuff. i love my stuff. and i mean really love my stuff. most of it is family stuff. furniture my mom and dad had. wooden pieces he made. barstools my grandma had for what seemed like eons before i even came along. my baptism gown that Big'K wore. the new one i bought for Lil'K so she would have a hand me down too. the only six outfits left from when i was an infant. my magic cards that Big'K begged to play with all the time but i always said no. the porcelain dolls Lil'K begged to play with all the time but i always said no. my graduation gown. their hospital bands. the newspapers from each of our birth month day and year. tidbits and pieces from my past. most of it was wooden. but some was not. things. just shit. crap i have tried to hold onto since i received them. thinking my life would just end if they were one day gone. fire being one of my worst fears. and then it happened. i have been able to save some of it. although it is scarred. dark and light spots where things were sitting before the fire and the wet soot settled after in the spaces in between. it will always be discolored. the six to ten pieces i have saved will always be flawed. and that is ok.

the good news is my life didn't end when i realized most everything was gone. it really didn't. it just kind of felt free. like wow. ok. all this stuff i have tied myself to forever is gone. ok. let us move along. and then devastation. and oh. my. god. my stuff. and back to eh it is what it is. and...and... exhaustion. and i have saved things. but when i look at them they no longer hold the love i once had for them. now they just hold sadness. we got lucky. we got very lucky. although nothing made of plastic or cloth or anything other than cast iron or stainless steel really survived, other than the wooden pieces that didn't burn, we were lucky. in that way.

i did think my life was going to end. burst into flames and float away with the wind. i truly for the first time in a long time just did not want to live. i just had no desire to continue breathing. for more than just one reason. and for reasons that would never cross your mind. and that is another story as well. and maybe i will tell it too.

insurance is a bitch. apparently the house, although deemed not repairable by the insurance in the beginning and at least two contractors, has been determined to be 'repairable' in the end. do what? yep. so now we don't get all of the insurance money. which i guess is ok when you have savings and stuff. but when you don't. and that money is what you are counting on to start over. and then you don't get it all. well it sucks. and it leaves you still without plumbing 195 days past flames. electricity having only been on a few weeks. pissing in a home depot bucket. showering at friends. still $3000 short. always fucking $3000 short. feeling like a burden. always a fucking burden. not knowing what to do. being so lost. knowing you are inside. but not being able to be found. appreciative of the help but gut wrenching sickness when you have to take it.

all in all we were so very lucky. none of us were hurt physically. mentally and emotionally are a whole different world. we were lucky to have wonderful friends who are like family. we were lucky to be so loved. and cared for.

the unlucky parts are worse though. because they are mostly emotional. and mental. and they just keep poking and digging at an already broken me. there is so much i just want to vent about. to vomit until the bad comes out. to scream. drink until i pass out. to cut just a little. to complain. cry and wail. flail on the ground until i am bloody. just to bitch. but it comes out in crazy spats. starts as one and warps into another. and then none of it makes sense. at all. not even to me. and the guilt. the horrible guilt. the mind numbing pathetic guilt. that i was out of it for so long. that i shut down. and closed in on myself. that i ruined things without knowing i did. without intending to. with trying to do what i thought was best. was easiest for everyone else. disappear inside myself. you can't see me. i'm not a burden now. feeling left out. feeling hated. feeling like the enemy. what - you don't understand...but you were doing everything you could to ruin it. but i wasn't. i really truly wasn't. i was thinking oh my god. freedom. help. love. family. what we have wanted. and yay. now it is here. but no. it's not. because you're one apple'd and a user. it was truly only the best of intentions. but every road to hell and destruction and fuckedupedness was paved with good intentions. good intentions from oblivious assholes. like me.

i know we were lucky. i do. but some days...well. we kinda weren't.

but i still miss my stuff. and my house. and myself. and i miss my best friend more than life. and my normal. and everything else that those flames took with them. the things that were burned have been the least ruined things. it's everything else that got fucked up since the flames. that has been the worst.

195 days. oh jesus. what will the next 195 hold...