I started this journal as a place to put down my innermost thoughts and feelings. I felt like it would be good to get them out, rather than to keep them bottled up inside, even if no one else reads them.

However, there have been several instances lately where someone used something I wrote here or in my writings on FL to slap me in the face and shit on me. My last entry here was a reaction to that when it first happened. Its happened several times since then.

As such, sadly, I no longer feel like I can be open anywhere. Once again, I've been shown that I can't open myself up because if I do, someone's going to try to hurt me. And the sad thing is that these people don't even know me, have never bothered to talk to me, but are just pissed off that I had the audacity to disagree with something they wrote in a pubic discussion.

So be it.

This one is for those douchebags that read peoples' journals and then use the information they find to slap someone in the face or shit on them publicly. You are an asshole. You are the scum of the earth. I have zero respect for you and don't give two shits what you think about me. If it makes your dick feel longer, go for it. Whatever makes you happy and gives you one-up on someone, right?

HERE'S A FUCKING CLUE FOR YOU: Someone disagreeing with your idea is NOT a personal attack. Someone being blunt is NOT a personal attack. However, someone calling names IS a personal attack. Someone regularly shitting on another person IS a personal attack, even if using snide innuendos and trying to make it sound like they are speaking in general. Everyone knows who you mean and no, you aren't being clever, you're just being a jackass. Oh wait, we've already established what a fucking jackass you are. Sorry, I forgot for a second there.

You can suck the corn from my shit because that's about how much worth your and your sycophants' opinions mean to me.

I went to my weekly therapy session today, but I'm wondering if its really worth it. I sit there and talk about how I'm doing and question my thoughts and feelings. She listens and nods and says I need to work on things. No, really? So what is the point of me going? I can't really be honest with her about myself because she'd cringe in horror. She already seems to think there's something wrong with me because I like playing World of Warcraft so much, or at least I did before the depression and other issues hit. She doesn't know anything about the game and doesn't understand the appeal, and thinks that I'm using it as an escape - a way to live a different life because I'm not happy with my real life. WTF? Yeah, cuz I seriously think I'm a hunter with a stable full of pets, shooting bullets through creatures.

No, I can't really go to anyone else. There IS no one else in this area. Not anyone I could really be open and honest with who could help me figure out why I'm so fucked up in the head. So Should I keep going to her or not? Really, what's the point? Master has done more to help me than she has, so what are we paying her for? Don't get me wrong, she's a nice lady. But I don't know that she's really helping me all that much, if at all.

And yet instead of going to bed, I'm sitting here at the computer eating a bowl of Cream of Wheat. Don't get me wrong, its yummy Cream of Wheat but I'd rather be in bed asleep, snuggled next to master. Why am I up? Because my dog is retarded.

Ok, he's not really retarded, he just wigs out a lot. And tonight we are having one helluva thunderstorm, so he's constantly getting up and barking at nothing. But then he barks at birds flying by, squirrels on wires, whenever the phone rings, whenever he hears any sort of sound that isn't ongoing like a floor fan. Sheesh. He's so high strung, but I love him to death so I really don't mind sitting up with him all that much.

Thursday wasn't one of my best days. I needed to go to the hospital to drop off the prescription for my thyroid test, which I did. I needed to take my youngin to get a new bathing suit, which I did. But once again, I didn't make it to the gym like I wanted to (and master had told me to, too). Monkeyboy was gonna go with me but decided against it and after all the driving round town, I couldn't make myself drive all the way out there. I love my gym, its a fantastic facility, but its also a half hour drive from my house. Wish it was closer.

Friday is therapy day. Don't really want to go because I don't see it helping much. I'm still suffering black hole days, I still wanna grab a bottle of pills, all the feelings I had before are still alive and kicking, thanks very much. Still having a hard time telling master that I'm having a bad day. He probably knows since I haven't logged into WoW in 2 days, but I don't think he KNOWS, if you know what I mean. He did cuddle me a long time this evening and I fell asleep in his lap with him stroking my hair and back. That was lovely. I wish we could stay like that all the time and never have to get up.

I got a call today about going back to work. Even though we could use the money, I don't really want to deal with the legal rat race again. Master says he likes me being home and able to serve him. Working takes a big toll on me physically. So I'm going to compromise and start looking for a part-time job somewhere other than fast food.

Wish me luck.

So I FINALLY got through to my rheumatologist's office today to get the results of my latest blood work. Testing shows I have a thyroid problem. Ok, let's forget the fact that I have a fucking GOITER that's visible to the naked eye and the majority of symptoms of a thyroid problem, until now the blood tests came back normal. WTF?

Anyway, so now I have to go to the local hospital to have a nuclear scan and uptake test on my thyroid. The hospital is the only place in town I can get it done as none of the other diagnostic testing facilities will deal with radioactive substances it seems. Go figure.

On the one hand, I'm glad they've finally figured out after all these years that its an issue (like the huge fucking goiter wasn't a clue, eh?). But all I can wonder is what next? What are they going to find wrong with my decrepit body next? Hmm? They're running out of things to find wrong with me. I can't even remember what all is wrong with me. Lets see, fibromyalgia, iron-deficiency anemia (let me tell you how fun treatment for that is sometime), degenerative disk disease, empty sella syndrome, arthritis pretty much everywhere including my eye (who knew you could get arthritis in an EYEBALL?), insomnia, allergies TO TREES ffs, vitamin D deficiency, malabsorption issues due to stomach surgery years ago, ingrown toenail... I know I've forgotten something.

What next? Erectile dysfunction? I mean seriously!

I had a pretty rough day yesterday. I didn't even realize it at first but slowly things started to build up inside until the dam burst. It didn't help that I was tired from the heat, spending time at the DMV and then the police station to straighten out having expired tags on my SUV that we hadn't driven in awhile. I couldn't even muster up the gumption to get to the gym and I really did want to. Master wanted me to, too, and I let him down. That didn't help matters.

After I got home from running around, I started working on my Blood Elf DK. I've been doing pretty good, its taken me 3 days to get from 55 to 69. Not too shabby. But then I started thinking about WHY I was rerolling horde on another server. Sure, Emma was looking for good players to have a solid raid group for 10man Ulduar, but that's not really the reason that I've all but abandoned my hunter that I've been playing for 4+ years, as well as my 80 NElf DK. No, its because of my former master and the whore. Because it hurts every time I run into them. It hurts every day that I see him logged on and he doesn't bother asking how I'm doing. Yeah, I know he doesn't care, but that doesn't stop the hurt.

So not only am I feeling hurt, but I'm also pissed off because I love my hunter, I love my other DK, I love playing Alliance, and I love raiding. And I've had to give all of that up, at least for the time being, for my sanity. Its either that or down another bottle of pills and hope it works this time. *sigh* So even though I'm enjoying my horde DK and enjoying the new quests that Alliance don't do (all of which I've done about a billion times), I'm still feeling a bit bitter about it.

I did a pretty good job suppressing it all day. Master had no idea I was doing as poorly as I was. Hell, I didn't even know it until I went to bed, grabbed my Cornelia (a stuffed Build-A-Bear I've taken to sleeping with lately) and started crying silently. Unfortunately, I woke Master up. He'd been asleep for a couple of hours by then. He was feeling frisky and started kissing me and touching me, and I just started crying harder. So he wrapped me up in his arms and held me, encouraging me to let it out and stroked my hair while I did. Then he kissed me and we talked for a little while. Funny thing is that comforting me turns him on something fierce so by the time we were done, he had a raging hard-on. So I helped him take care of it, kissed him goodnight, he went back to sleep and I got up to write in my journal.

Critter graduated from 8th grade yesterday (well graduation was Friday but yesterday was the last official day of school). He's got a week before he starts summer school. And since its so far away, he's scheduled to take the bus. Only the idiots want him to take the CITY bus. Ummm, yeah, there's no way I'm letting my little guy (and he IS little) ride the city bus through a horrible part of town to get off somewhere he's never been before. So I'll be hauling my sorry butt out of bed early to drop him off and pick him up. Which will work out pretty good I think. It'll help me get up and out. I'll probably drop him off then hit the gym before coming home.

Life goes on. One day at a time.

Late night is my favorite time. Everyone has gone to bed, the house is quiet, my puppy is curled up beside me on the sofa, and I can just sit alone and process things. I think about the day and what's happened, things master and I have talked about and conversations with friends. I can also plan the things I want to do tomorrow, even if I know they aren't likely to get done. :)

I plan on leaving the house early (for me) and head to the mall. I need to pick up a new watch battery and a few other things. Then I'll come home for awhile, as my son is graduating from 8th grade at 1:30 p.m., and I must get ready for that. After that, I'm hoping to head to the gym for an hour or so. Its upper body workout day with some cardio thrown in.

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I wonder sometimes why I am the way I am. I mean I know our past shapes us and makes us who we are now, but what if only one thing in our past changed? Would that change the rest of our lives?

James Belushi starred in a movie in 1990 called Mr. Destiny. In it, he was a father and husband struggling to make ends meet. Of course he loves his wife but covets the daughter of his boss, whom he went to school with and who is, of course, quite beautiful. There was an incident when he was a kid where he was playing a baseball game. If he hits the ball, his team wins. If he doesn't, they lose. Obviously, he misses. And he goes through the rest of his life well into adulthood believing that if he had just hit that ball, his life would be different.

Well, Mr. Destiny shows up one day and grants him his wish. Larry hit the ball, was the school hero, married the rich, beautiful daughter and lived in a mansion. Typical story follows where he realizes he loves his old friends and his old life and wants to get them back.

I wonder sometimes what my life would be like if just one thing had been different. Would I be the same person I am now? Larry never went back in time to change, he saw his new life through the eyes of the old Larry, but what if he hadn't. What if he really had gone back and relived those days. Would he still be the same lovable slob he became, or would he have become one of the snobbish rich?

I know I wouldn't be afraid of the dark now if I hadn't been locked in a dark basement for days with roaches and rats, not even let out to eat or pee. I remember not being afraid of the dark before those days, so I know that's what caused it. But what if other things hadn't happened they way they did. What would my personality be like now? I sorta like myself as I am. I have a decent set of morals and I know what's important in life. Would I still have the same morals if I hadn't had such a fucked up childhood? I know others that I grew up with haven't done all that well for themselves. I haven't heard many success stories among my peers. I'm not in jail for murdering someone. That means something, right?

But then, along with the thoughts of who would I be are thoughts of who I am now. Who am I really? What defines me? Wife and mother, obviously. But I wonder how others would define or describe me if they had to (and not at my funeral because everyone lies at funerals).

I sometimes wish I could read minds. But then I thank God I can't because I really don't want to know what people honestly think about me.

A beautiful, golden bird flies overhead. It looks youthful, but the aura surrounding it is one of great age. A squawk of dismay escapes its lips as it plunges into its nest, engulfing both the nest and the bird in searing hot flames. But as the flames begin to die, within the burning ashes of destruction, a miracle occurs. It starts small, as many beginnings are wont to do, but then the changes gain speed and in a mere matter of minutes, a bright, vibrant phoenix soars into the air - signaling a new beginning.

The legend of the phoenix has always inspired hope; hope that no matter how bad things were, something good could come of it.

Within the last couple of months, I've watched everything I love and everything I hold dear to my heart crash and burn. While I didn't light the match, I did everything else to aid in the destruction. I gathered the wood and piled it in precisely the right way, added kindling and sprayed the entire thing with kerosene. I did a pretty good job in nearly destroying everything including my own life.

However, a miracle happened. There was a slight movement in the ashes, barely detectable by the eye, but it was there. Slowly, the movement became more pronounced and before long, not one but two phoenixes emerged from the ashes and flew high up into the sky!

A metaphor is a wonderful thing.

Due to my overwhelming stupidity and selfishness, I nearly destroyed my marriage, my family, my few remaining friendships, and my very life. There is one reason, and one reason alone, that not only am I still here, but also that I still have my wonderful family, and that reason is because I am married to the most amazing man on Earth. Most people speak their wedding vows by rote, repeating what the minister (or whomever) says but not really hearing the words or paying attention to them. The words flow into the ears and out the mouth without the merest detour into the brain.

Not so with my husband. When he repeated those vows, he meant every word. And he's proven it time and again. For every time I've broken a vow, he's fulfilled two. He watched over me at times not knowing if I would be alive the next day. He takes care of me whenever I am sick, no matter what that requires. He holds me when I'm upset without judging me. He supports me in everything I want to do, especially when it comes to improving myself. He forgives my every sin - sins few other men would forgive.

He is my bedrock. My rock of Gibraltar. Whenever I have an idea, he is the first person I talk it out with because I know he'll give me an honest answer. Whenever there's something I don't know, I turn to him, knowing that 9 times out of 10, he either knows the answer or knows where to find it. He has an amazing mind. He is my hero, my protector, my main source of comfort.

He has helped rebuild our marriage and myself, infusing both with his strength, making them stronger than they've ever been before.

He is my husband, master of our domain.

Can someone please explain to me the point of Twitter? Seriously. I'm just not getting it. The AP has a story today about celebrities micro-blogging their lives on Twitter. Why? Does anyone really give a shit when Lindsay Lohan tweets that she's just wiped her ass with some lovely three-ply toilet paper and is now off to get a Starbuck's with her very odd looking euphemism friend? MC Hammer claims to have 157,000 followers of his tweets. WHY? Seriously people, isn't it about time to get yourselves a life and find something more constructive to do?

It concerns me that more people seem to be interested in the inane ravings of celebrities and other strangers than they are about the frightening direction our country has taken under the "leadership" of President Obama. They're too busy watching Ashton tweet about Demi's farts, or lack thereof, to pay attention to the ever-increasing debt the President is placing on our grandchildren's grandchildren and don't notice, or seem to care, that day-by-day, we are losing more of our rights and freedoms, that the President and his staff are whittling away our Constitution.

I fear for our future.