why the f*** DID i START THIS THING?

Funny thing is that I haven't written much in here nor is it giving me the outlet to vent as I thought it would. Alot of things have happened and none good. My uncle died August 12, from internal bleeding but he had many more other health issues besides that. He was, no is my uncle who married my father's oldest sister, my aunt. They are the ones who live with my mom, the ones that cause more grief and stress for my mom. The ones with endless health issues, endless late night visits to the ER, we joked they were frequent fliers/ER'eers. It is so weird how one dies they are just gone, you know like they never existed besides for the ones that hold the memory of their loved ones. Sometimes life feels so long, and hard but then when I see how fast my kids have grown or how old I have gotten I realize how short life really is.

All things considering I'm ok...I've inherited the paperwork and financial and legal things concerning my aunt and uncle. But not a big deal since I had taken over doing my mom's bills and stuff. I'm on automatic after all its my aunt we need to be there for...its weird how the only time we can cry are late at night when everyone else is sleeping, or when we are alone driving in our car or in the shower. It hurts, I hurt, I miss my uncle, I miss my dad...death sucks, getting old sucks. I hate that I cannot be ok for my kids or more so for my self. It amazes me how well I function when it comes to others but I'm so empty when it comes to myself. I'm tired and yet I'm tired of feeling like shit, of feeling empty and so sad and hurt. I want to move forward...hell that is why I haven't visited my dad's grave either cause I don't want to think about him because it makes me stop wanting to live, to snap out of this crap. But here my uncle dies...sad to say in ways its a relief because taking care of sick old people sucks. It drains the very life out of you, because there is nothing you can do to make things better. The thing I have most in the inability to take the pain anyway from the ones I love, even like. I hate not being able to solve their pain, to ease their sorrow, to wipe away their emptiness. I hurt for all the pain there is and wish that there is none in that other life.

I'm not religious but I want to believe their is something better, that this life isn't just for the hell of it but we find meaning and give meaning in this lives of ours. My baby girl asks me what died was? I told he uncle John dies, like Papa, so she asked where died was? So I told her he went to heaven...kinda sad since I don't really believe in a heaven and hell thing, or do I? As I face immortality it doesn't scare me, although it never did, that is my own but that I feared that of my loved ones...my mom and dad. So now being faced with death once again I'm sad more than anything...the greatest fear I had has happened twice...I've lost my father, he is only a memory but damn it I miss him so much! He was far too young...he and my mom didn't get to enjoy their time together. Their time was cut short...my mom tells me the happiest time in her life was when she was a young stay at home mom in korea...bathing her babies, feeding us, cooking, waiting for my father to come home from work. She says those were the best times in her life, when she was young and in love waiting for my father to come home, being a mom taking care of her babies. She says she never realized this until now thinking back at her life...she feels cheated that she didn't get time with him. For them to enjoy "their" time after she retired. I cry for her, for him, for all the others that lost their time, for holding back on living their lives. I cry for all the people who have sacrificed for their children, to wait until later to have a life.


I don't want to be those people but I'am. I haven't been living, not really living I've let days, years pass by my hands, dwelling on the past, hating the present and awaiting for tomorrow for my life to start. But my life has gone by, so fast, not waiting for me to be ok, my children have grown, my baby isn't a baby anymore and my son is already 15. It feels just like yesterday that I felt like I was a young single mom, so sure of myself, that is bettering myself. Having a goal of supporting my son with a kick ass career. Bt here I sit empty and so alone. I'm 20pds heavier but 20 pds less confident. I feel lost, unsure of myself. I feel like a loser. I'm scared I will never be able to get a job again let alone a career...I want to earn money..I need to earn money but I have no self confidence. I've become a horrible mirror image of my youth and self hatred but I definitely don't look as good and I really do need to lose weight now!

I hate feeling this way and I know its not ok but I can't stop feeling whats inside...it sucks...I suck. I could use a smoke just about now, or a good drink/s to drown in my sorrow my pain...to dance my ass off, not to give shit...to flirt, bump and grind with a good looking guy, to feel desirable once again. To stop being old, helpless, crazy and fat!

I hurt and death sucks.

Is it me or are we all a bit crazy?

I heard that if you thought you were crazy that you really weren't cause real crazy people don't think they are crazy. But hey I know I'm and I don't try to rationalize it, I try to "control" it and I guess in ways have been very successful....did I mention I wanted to be a psychologist or a counselor however even with my depression/bi-polar? state I have not sought out any medical help. Why? Because I know the stigma attached to mental illness in our society, to be medically labeled "depressed/bi-polar" is a mental illness, one that stays with forever and in our medical records. Did you know it can affect your ability to be covered by insurance, sure its not supposed to be but it is...I know this because I've was a psychology major, I worked in a medical clinic with doctors. So as sick as it all seems maybe also cause I'am Korean, its not ok to be depressed or sick.

Even during my turbulent teen years when I tried killing myself, my family didn't know. Nor do they know know...WTF, even though I lived with my parents until I was 30 years old, before I got married and moved out (hell I'm really way more traditional than I believe myself to be) they never knew. I used to be a alcoholic too...I needed it to function, to come outside of myself, liquid courage, to face people, to speak, to be me. When I think back now of how self destructive and in pain I was, I feel sad for the girl I used to be. In ways she is still inside of me, although the woman I have become is much more confident, assured but sometimes that little lost girl comes out. All I know is that I don't want that little girl to know my children, that is I don't want them to ever feel so much self hatred and pain, to never feel good enough, smart enough, attractive enough...i want them to have all the security and self confidence I lacked.

I know of the ugly things one can do to their body, their soul, only to deepen the wounds and make things worse. In ways my son saved me, did I mention I was a unweded mother at 20, pregnant at 19 and by a Mexican home boy. Yep looking a me people think they have me figured, I look together, typical Asian woman but I'm so far from it. I was the black sheep, I say was because I become "respectable, human" after I married my husband in 2003. Did I mention I didn't know how to handle my family caring about me and showing me respect. I did not know how to handle them asking about me, caring whether if I ate or not, if I was sick, or busy, up until I become "human" I was the unmarried, single mother. Even when I was going to school I never spent real time studying, I worked my school around everyone else, I didn't get good grades, heck I barely made it. I was busy being a good daughter, well trying to make up for fucking up, bringing shame to my family for being a single mother and with a bi-racial child. But you know what that child was the one that made me snap outside of my own self hating ass to become someone. I enrolled myself back into city college cause I knew I had to give him more, it wasn't about me anymore, I had become that stigmatized single welfare mom. Did I mention I was on welfare too. Yep I was the loser, black sheep but guess what I did more for my parents than my brothers did.

Living with them wasn't an easy ride, good lord far from that. My mother would remind why I hadn't followed her direction to get a abortion, even up to a few years ago she would say see you should have listened to me, even though she and my father adored my son. She knew how hard it would be for me, she knew he was no good and wouldn't be there for me, she knew of all the pain I would endure. And yet it was she and my family that caused me the most pain, after all I could care less of what others tought of me, it was always their acceptance and loved I sought.

I do understand that it is because she loved me she told me to get an abortion, because she knew what a hard time I would have.....but hell I was already having a shitty time as it was. But my son is the one who saved me from myself, to stop being so damn egocentric to focus on someone else besides myself. So I stopped being obsessed with my eating and stopped taking laxatives, yes I tried to make myself vomit but I couldn't, so I would take laxatives and also diet pills. Man even when I think back I'm amazed at how sick I was but I remember so clearly all the pain I felt with it all. Sometimes if I find myself telling someone of my past I feel like its a lie cause their is so much bad things in it. I call myself a statistic because almost anything that can possibly happen growing up has happened to me and looking at me now no one would be the wiser.

But I'am here today, I know I'm not ok but I can be, I want to be....when I feel awful I can reason myself that I don't want to feel that way, that certain things can't helped and that I cannot control my thoughts but I don't have to act out on them. That's the difference now and then I don't act out on the ugliness but contain it....I have felt better, I know their is a good place inside of me even if I can't feel it now. The fog has lifted but the pain is so raw, I don't think about my father because I know it will consume me and I want to go on, I have too. So each day is a battle, some days not so bad as others never less it lingers.

On a lighter note.....so I thought

I have walked/jogged over 39 miles since I received my tread mill for mother's day. I have to say I feel much better too but I knew I would so it really isn't a surprise but a relief. I know, why don't I just go outside and take a walk but the fact is I do not want to see anyone, I do not want to offer greetings nor smile. Because I'm depressed damn it, unlike the "real" me who is warm, bubbly and social I'm withdrawn, cold and unsociable, yes totally opposite of who I'm in normal times. We have lived in our new house coming this September for three years however I do not know my neighbors nor do I care too, when we first moved in we said hello and exchanged names, it's a new development built for young families, a community in itself. It is a great place for families and for walking but I just haven't been in the state of mind to enjoy it.

Depression is a sad state, really how lame is it that you cannot experience joy, only to feel flat, anxious and worst of all not wanting to get up in the morning. All shitty and not something one chooses to live in, but it happens for one reason or another, having family members who've experienced depression increases ones chances of developing depression, so it sucks....this is one legacy I don't want to pass on to my kids! So I'm struggling to get better, without the drugs without the "medical professionals" help...I know the ways in which I can get better because I have experienced depression many times before. I had enrolled back into college to better myself, especially since I wanted more for my son, this is how I saved myself and also learned how I had post partum depression and healed myself. It isn't a coincidence my current bout with depression started with my pregnancy with my daughter and has lasted longer with the death of my father. So yes I know all the contributing factors that led to my current state of being and I'm trying to come back. I'm sure for those who have never experienced depression may find it hard to understand how one can in such a state of funk, my husband is one of those people.

But he loves me so he blindly accepts what I do, in ways he has enabled my state of depression, never demanding that I stop being depressed, to get out of my funk, to get out of the house and move. He works, supports us financially, and he also goes out to run errands that I do not want too. He doesn't demand that I do them, he lets me be...so the first time in my life I'm able to live this way, inside of my house, not having to leave it, because he can do the things outside. Don't get me wrong I cook, clean and do the laundry, I take care of my family. I'm one of those depressed people who function, I do not just lay in my bed, I wish I could but I can not, I have a three year old who depends on me, I have a widowed mother who depends on me. So I'm there for everyone but myself, I function for others. I do leave the house every other week to drive 60 miles up to my mother's house where we do her yard work, fix up her aging house and where I pick up hers bills to pay. I do all the things I'm supposed to do, I do our financials, I have budgeted, skimped and saved so we can live on my husbands income. Even though I did not make lots of money however my departure from employment to a SAHM costs us 2k less a month after taxes. So it has been more than a adjustment in many ways.

So I struggle to keep my sanity and raise happy well rounded children while trying to save my mother from her own depression. So I walk on my new tread mill hopefully walking away this shitty state of depression. Gotta wear my running shoes, I have been walking/jogging bare foot, bad idea I have high arches so now I have been getting feet and ankle pain. But I've just washed my running shoes to use on my tread mill, can't wear dirty shoes inside the house so hopefully the pain will go away.

I tried to write something on the lighter note, oh well maybe next time.

Within myself....

Growing up I always day dreamed, not just sitting around and wishing myself away into another life but while I was physically doing something. Washing the dishes, cooking dinner, folding laundry all while playing scenes in my head living another life. It would sometimes be from books I read or something I saw on t.v. or a combination of both. My mind wandered where I could be free to be the me, the one I knew was inside that couldn't be free. I realize now how active of a imagination I had as a child, not the kind living in fantasy worlds but one living in reality, I day dreamed but in real life, just not my real life.



I discovered a love of reading books in third grade and spent many days just lying in bed reading, escaping into worlds and lives that I did not have. My profound love of reading inspired me to become a writer. I wrote a book and even drew pictures because I loved to draw however I realized I couldn't be a writer because I did not have true talent, talent one was born with. This became my cycle of self doubt and hate, no matter what I thought or wanted to do I always convinced myself I wasn't good enough. I was a jack of all trades but a master of none, I was always good enough however I never felt passion nor true satisfaction that others seemed to posses while pursuing their true talents and dreams. I was meant to be average, even though deep inside I felt I was really meant to be great. That I was meant to leave some great contribution in this world before I met my demise. I wanted to make a difference, I wanted to help mankind, to seek others who were lost to ease their pain and find understanding. I wanted meaning in my existence, because I felt empty, lost and so lonely.



I could not identify who I was, I was told how to behave and be but no one showed me how to love myself. Looking back I hated myself for not being good enough at anything, I wasn't pretty or smart nor was I a boy. I was invisible to my family, only visible to be scolded or to be ridiculed, never being good enough. I sought acceptance and love elsewhere because I received none at home. I had a few boyfriends in junior high, the kind that lasted for a week which at the time was considered a long time. I was in a lot of pain during these years, I guess the onset of puberty and hormones didn't help. It was a horrible time for me, I started hating myself to the point of attempting suicide, one of the many failed attempts. I started drinking because it gave me courage to break out of my shell, to be able to talk to others, to feel less self conscious, it was liquid courage. I feared crossing the street because I was sure people would stare at me for being so ugly so I would actually walk further down to where their was no congestion and run across. It became a obsession to the point I thought I was fat, I was 105 pounds and 5'2 and half. So I dieted, not that I ate much to begin with but that was the one thing I could control. I couldn't change the shape of my Asian eyes, nor my straight dark brown hair, nor my small nose with the tiny nose bridge. I couldn't change that I wasn't white, but maybe I could change how fat I looked? So I wasn't fat but at that time my mind was so warped, I guess this is what it means to be a teenager, so self-absorbed, not able to see beyond oneself.

some past thoughts...

I wrote this last year a few months after my father passed away, I was hurt and angry but more so disappointed in my family, my father's siblings.


Tradition of Ignorance...

With the recent death of my father I have been forced to face the truth of Korean traditions, beliefs and culture. It is something I ‘m not proud of or want to have any connection with, I see the hypocrisy and the mistreatment of woman. I know Korea is a patriarchal society however I did not really grasp the reality of how ignorant and one sided there beliefs are. I know daughters were considered as nothing but liabilities, not a real family member once they were married however I did not realize I would receive such treatment from my family. Having lived in the United States most of my entire life I was raised traditionally and felt proud of my heritage and upbringing as I grew older. However these last few months have shown me the ugly truth about my family but more so of the culture I once revered and felt proud of. It is actually sad and disappointing to have to admit to myself that what I once believed to be true was false, very far from the tight knit caring family I was believed to be from. I guess in many ways I fooled myself because why would I have grown up so insecure and unsure of myself, not valuing myself, hating myself. I wanted to believe my childhood didn’t affect me as much as it did, that I could change on my own, that if I didn’t focus on the past that I could try to understand the past without blame, after all who is perfect. I believed I could change myself that I was responsible of the person I was, to be but I denied the depth in which my childhood affected the person I ‘am today.
Fortunately I ‘am not the self hating, self destructive girl I used to be, however I did not come unscathed nor had I healed and dealt with all my demons. I realize the demons are now coming out to be addressed and that I cannot solve it all by myself anymore, that I do not have control over things like I wished to be. The “problems” I had in the past were what I believed to be of my own doing, my own making, bad choices and decisions I made on my own and things I handled on my own. I had handled these problems on my own since high school, probably longer than that but ones that really changed me. I was scared to go to my parents for help, I feared them, wanted so badly for their approval but never seemed to achieve it. So it was better to stay under the radar, because doing otherwise would cause the wrath of my parents. My entire life my memories are only filled with living with other extended family members, never having anything to myself let alone my parents’ attention. My entire life consisted of watching others moods and emotions, by this I could act on how others felt. I had always put my own self second, that I was not as important, that others needs were more important that mine after no one else told me different nor ever put me first. Even though I had both of my parents I never had their protection, their emotional support, they were never there for me. So I relied on myself from a young age, to clean up my own mess, to take care of whatever I could without them knowing. I became very good at handling everything on my own, it was scary however I did not have a choice. It’s funny now when I think about how strong and independent I was however until now I didn’t realize it. I had neither self confidence nor belief in myself although now I realize I kicked ass. It’s sad that I had to grow up hating myself and abusing myself in the ways I did. One thing for sure I do not want my kids to repeat the same cycle I came from, I realize that the greatest thing I can do in this life is to raise my children to love themselves, to have the self confidence and security that I lacked. That pursuing my career or need to find meaning from the outside world does not compare to the reality of raising secure, confidant happy children. I have to admit it’s easier to work outside the home than be a homemaker, nor does it not have any pay or benefits nor value from society and its straight out depressing at times. However I realize all that can be a reality once kids go to school; after all it really is a limited of time when children stay babies. We stay a less than quarter of our lives as kids, it all happens so fast and so unforgiving at times. I don’t want my children or any other children to grow up feeling so lacking, so unworthy, so unsure and undervalued as I did.
I know I have depression maybe even bi-polar disorder how I believe besides being chemical I do believe how I was raised had much effect on how I ‘am today…I’ve been struggling with depression for the last three years or more, with the death of my father it has changed but I know I’m not ok. That I haven’t been ok for a long while. The good thing is that for the first time in my life since childhood I have not been drinking. I know at one time was very dependant on alcohol, that maybe at times it saved me, that it could have killed me and maybe that I tried and hoped it would. But that has changed the drinking that is. In ways for my body it is better however for my emotions I do not know, it was a way for me to cope and now I do not have any methods in coping with stress.

Just like tradition?

Saturday I went to my mother's house to cook food for Chesa for my grandfather, like always it was just myself and my aunt. My mother had to work and my brother and his wife knew nothing of it. Even though he was supposed to be there and his wife should have been cooking I was doing it like I had been for the last 14 years. That's the funny thing about our family, even though my two older brother's were raised here in the U.S. they grew up watching my father fulfill the duties of Eldest son taking care of all his family. However the right and privilege of being a boy excused them from doing "women's work" however their wives were spared the duties that come with being married to them. So I the lowly daughter takes care of my brother's wives duties. Even though I'm excluded in the actually ceremonial part of Chesa I have cooked all the food.

I know Korea is a patriarchal society however I did not realize how much my own life has been dictated by it. Moving to California in 1978 we were the only Korean , heck only Asian kids for that matter in our white suburban school. It was all about learning English, we all had English names picked out for us by my Aunt's white friends. Penny, Patrick, Chad and Jamie...yes those were the names we were given to us. My name is the last one, Jamie...a Scottish boy's name in origin. The key to success at that time history was all about assimilation, to leave behind our old culture and learn to be an American. But regardless of how American I thought I was it was obvious I wasn't, because no matter how well I spoke English and was hip to the customs that would never change how my face looked. I hate to admit it now but in junior high and high school I hated being Korean, wishing I was white. I felt ugly and worthless because no matter what I could not look like everyone else. I'm ashamed to admit it but I tried killing myself during these years of turmoil. It was may things not just my looks and wanting, needing to fit in but the lack of my parents understanding and presence in my life.

I know it sounds cliche but when my family arrived in the U.S. we didn't have a penny in our pockets and after just two days in being in the states my father started working in a factory. Luckily we lived with my aunt and her American husband however that experience in itself was traumatizing. My parents both worked, my father in the factory, doing yard work on the weekends, my mother working night shifts at the same place and cleaning houses in the day. So I never saw them and my aunt became our overbearing, authoritative caregiver. I know she had her reasons of why she treated us the way she did, because she too had a very hard life. I cannot blame anyone really for the circumstances in life we were all dealt. So this isn't about blame but of factual things that occurred in my life.

Even though living in Korea we were considered poor, we always had enough to eat and my mom stayed home with me and my two older brothers while my father worked. However moving to the U.S. changed my entire world, we were moving here for us, to give us a better opportunity, to get an education because in Korea it costs money to go to school. So we came for the American dream of opportunities and for a better life. But it didn't seem that way once we got here, it seemed like the most miserably time because my parents were gone and we were dealing with a strict and mean aunt who drilled us with orders and demands on how to act, talk, play, eat, etc. It was a living hell for us because we actually planned on running away into the hills we saw in the distance, we thought we could live in the "wild" with animals to get away from our wicked aunt, from all the strange new customs and ideas that were forced down our throats. So we would day dream of running away, not worrying about being too loud, or if we could run and play, so we could eat what we wanted when we wanted. Our new life was full of rules, regulations and restrictions. We were called names and disciplined and felt like a burden and our parents were never around to defend us. We became orphans in ways, because our parents were busy working trying to save money so we could move out on our own.

Looking back now I realize this was a very hard time on us all, even for my aunt who surely felt bad and sorry to her American husband to have burdened him with her family from Korea. So I can see why she treated us the way she did. I'm not saying it was right but I can understand why.

Even when we were "poor" in Korea I never felt ashamed, hungry, hurt, scared or abandoned as I did when we moved here. The simpleness that was my world disappeared and the complications of living with others caused fights and tension between my parents. I'm sure they fought in Korea but not like this, and we were constantly ridiculed and disciplined for our bad behavior by aunts and grandmother. I did not understand why they spoke badly of my mother and why they always thought I was spying and telling my mom things they were doing to us, they would call me a "fox", even though I never told my mother of the things they would say and do to us. But that did not stop them, so I always lived very aware of others emotions of how I should act and be.

Being children of immigrants we were to became the translators into our new world, to explain to our parents of new world, try explaining medical stuff when you only have the language capabilities of a 4 year old child but I became the main translator, the main person who family members came for help in explaining paper work or writing applications, etc. I guess the real kicker is when we couldn't explain what things meant we were considered"stupid" by my uncle. My father's younger brother, the mean one, the one who supposedly was a lawyer in Korea. He was always fast to tell us what not to wear, say or do, he knew everything yet always came to us for translation and help. He married a "educated" woman unlike my mother, a woman who he could not stand up too and hated. A woman who bore him a daughter and not a son, a selfish woman who was educated but did not follow Korean tradition of family and shunned his family members because she thought she was better. She was born to a mistress herself, the only daughter who was disliked even by her own brothers that when her mother passed away in Korea they never told her about it. Seems ironic doesn't it for someone who is educated that she is shunned by her own family while she shuns her husbands family.

The complications go on and on, far more than what I can write right now, the reasons why my life was so complicated when it should have been so simple. The traditions that ties us to a culture even though we are thousands of miles away. The pain and confusion I felt growing up a Korean girl in California.

Who Am' I?....Daughter of Eldest Son

You would think after taking 10 years to finish my B.A. in sociology as a single mom (double psychology/soc. major but dropped the PSY...too much work) I would know what I wanted to do. Yet here I find myself "searching" for what I want to do/be once my baby girl starts school. I've been trying to convince myself that these last three and half years haven't been a waste but good for the kids. That being a mother is more important than anything else that I could possibly "be or do" and that my degree wasn't in vain because I would pursue a "career" after the kids were in school and didn't need me as much.


Yet lets be real here, life sucks...I know I shouldn't say that but it has, being a self sacrificing stay at home mom/homemaker sucks! Maybe the fact my father passed away last April from lung cancer hasn't helped and being the sole comfort for my martyr Mother doesn't make things easier. Even though I'm the youngest of three children and also the daughter has not diminished my responsibilities to my mother and extended family.

Growing up in a traditional Korean family that immigrated to California in 1978 had enough of its complications but being the youngest daughter with two older brothers did no grant me the right as princess nor to be bestowed gifts =spoiled. Instead I felt like I was the personal maid and servant of the family, not to talk back, to listen, to learn how to cook, clean, and take care of the men and the family. To be the work horse/cow that my mother had became in serving my father and his extended family. I did not realize the rigidity and profound sexism that is my family until last year when my father, the eldest son passed away.



The shock that came with my father's death was how fast he passed away, he was diagnosed lung cancer and he died in less than a month. He became that statistic, the one that dies shortly after the discovery of cancer because its always too late by the time they discovers it, unfortunately lung cancer is hard to diagnose in the earlier stages because there are no real signs or symptoms. So my beloved father became that number, making the statistic solid, but he wasn't an number. He was husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, and the Eldest Son.

**Insight -I started this blog thinking it was about myself but it has focused on the source of my pain and grief, the passing of my father.

I guess being the Eldest son in Korean custom holds much importance as well as responsibility in providing not only for ones own family but his extended family. My father lived his life to the full extent taking care his extended family members to the point of sacrificing the welfare of his own wife and children in process. He was a honorable man but ignorant in that he did not provide his wife and partner of 40 years with the support and love she deserved. maybe its the Korean way, maybe it's just my family I do not know but I know for most of my life I resented him for the husband he wasn't to my mother but loved him for the father he was. Even as of today I love him and miss him and yet feel anger towards him for the way he treated my mother. Especially as she says it leaving him with the burden to care for his older sister and her her husband.
Sounds strange and unheard of but its true, my mother is taking of care of my father's sister and husband while working a 40hr job as a housekeeper. Sound depressing yes...especially since my aunt is from the old school of scolding mother in laws that boss around and criticize their daughter in laws, however considering the fact my mother isn't her daughter in law makes it more so ridiculous however my mother in guilty of carrying on this morbid tradition of women suppressing each other.

**That in itself is whole other topic! Wow who knew I had so much to let out, vent, express, maybe this blog will be longer than I thought. Gotta go now and start dinner and organize my thoughts so I can write it all done later in a more comprehensible way?