Waiting For My Floors To Dry

Well, my son is napping. I am awating the my physcial and emotional floors to dry. Some day things will become positive. I hope this person is offended by my reference, but a friend posted that we (I'm assuming she meant the neighbourhood friends) should either win the lottery or start blogging.

I think they are both great idea's. I was also thinking that it should be me to win it, therefore I don't have to share it with any body. I would give to my three neighbourhood friends, family, live off interest, and spent my life time trying to help people are worse off than myself. Many people are struggling and that's why I believe God doesn't deal with the lottery. I sat down and tried to think of all the helping I'd like to do if I won and I was overwhelmed with confusion because I wanted to do it all. Poor God.

As for the blogging idea, great idea. I think it's a great idea. We all have diverse backgrounds, different idea's, different stories, different ways of dealing with things. Maybe one day, there will be a movie about us. We could be like off of "sisterhood of the travelling pants."

I know. I know. I have a vivid, wild imagination.

As for the workability program I cannot afford to make up the difference in childcare (good luck finding any!) and they only pay for one bus pass. After that I am on my own. Nonetheless, my public health nurse doesn't think I should go with that program right now. She says I need to focus on getting better. aka less suicidial.

She said if I can find a licensed childcare she can make up the difference when I go to a program to teach my life skilks. She said maybe I could get a bus pass through my worker, and they might be able to pay a taxi to take my son to daycare.

It is oh so frustrating talking to a blog. You are just like a wall. You don't answer back. Oh well, I'm pretty used to talking to myself... and it's not normal the way I do it!! My therapist told me so! Well not really... she said "we all talk to  ourselves to some degree" or something like that. She just gives me funny looks when I say I do something wierd, like talking to myself.

Seriously...she referred to it as a friend... I have an imaginary friend at 22. Yep. That's right. It's not called inside the mind of a crazy person for nothing.