~ when things began to get good ~

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Preface: The following is more from my personal journal and/or other writings as I moved through the inner turmoil after the Knapp trauma which happened the end of July/beginning of August, 2010. The sharings are simply my thoughts at the time processing through events that took place with my ex-therapist, John M. Knapp, LMSW. To access an ongoing index, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
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when things began to get good
march 2, 2011

Last night I went to bed around 1:30 AM. I'd gotten home from work around 12:15 AM, eaten some oatmeal while watching part of an infomercial advertising the Ahh-bra which sounded like such great boob-back-belly magic that I had to look up reviews on the computer, after which I decided to not buy the Ahh-bra - at least not now. The reviews stated the Ahh-bra isn't Ahh-inducing at all for big busted gals. Since my weight-gain from a few years back, my tee-shirt size is an extra-large which would categorize me for an extra-large Ahh-bra.

After brushing and flossing, splashing my face, re-clothing from day work to night sleep apparel, I finally laid down at 1:30 AM, crawling under the sheets and the down comforter, snuggling up beside my snoring husband, then rolling onto my back and watching the ceiling fan spin.

I like to watch slow spins. Like our ceiling fan, or like the vents on our garage roof that whirl when the breeze blows.

I watched the dark shadows on the white ceiling depicting the slow spinning wooden and woven fan blades, dim light shining from the bathroom night light. The whir of the floor fan and the hum of an air filter in the hallway creating more white to match the ceiling. Their white being the noise in the whirs, white noise that usually holds a hypnotic sway over my consciousness.

I lay on my back, closing my eyes, breathing deeply, enjoying the stretch of my body, turning the pillow over for the cold side, throwing my bare leg out of the covers to feel the cold from the top of the white down comforter. Being present to drift into sleep.

Sleep, which didn't come until over two hours later.

My mind kept going. I was on adrenalin high about the new business my husband and I are in process of purchasing - an opportunity that serendipitously found its way into my life a few weeks ago. I am purchasing a pet sitting service.

Earlier in the day while at work, I had informed my boss about the new venture, assuring him that none of my hours at work will change and that I will continue to get my work done. He is almost as excited as I am. Plus, I'll take on watching the studio dog at a reduced rate of course.

I feel nervous and excited at the same time. I'm inheriting enough clients to keep myself, my son, and one other person already working the service plenty busy. My goal is to pay back the initial investment within 1-1/2 years. In the process I'll lose weight, be forced into some scheduling lifestyle changes that I have been struggling with, and make new friends with some of the greatest creatures on earth...pets. After the 1-1/2 years, I'll actually be making money with the goal of paying off our mortgage in six years.

Oh my god. Could it be? Could it be that we could actually own our house without working until we are 80?

As I lay there, thinking about the future and the past - thinking about coming out so to speak lately over on the Way Corp Site stating that I no longer believe the Bible to be inerrant as originally given. It's not that I've lied to anyone, but I've not openly stated such in a direct manner among a venue of people still and/or once committed to the IT IS WRITTEN standard.

I felt good as I lay on our king-size tube water bed. I still need to handle the speeding ticket my son got last week. The big leak in our plumbing system needs fixing, so much so that we have to redo the ceramic tile shower in our bathroom. Then there is the mess in my house that I want to get to that has piled up since I left The Way and later had hip surgery and then after selling Mom's estate.

I never did get thank you notes written from the time of her funeral in February, 2009.

Middle-age suits me for now. Seldom do the circumstances of life take on an earth-shattering urgency, an all-importance. I think it was Picasso who stated that it takes a long time to become young.

Apparently John Knapp got a make-over. I saw a recent photo of him. It looks like he lost weight, died his hair, and got rid of his glasses. He literally looks like a different person. The photo caused me to wonder if he is having an affair with a male lover.

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