Well today I get to endure my biggest fear. I get to go to the dentist. Ya for me. It is for the good I keep telling myself. But it doesn't help my anxiety. Three extractions that I am scared the death of. I hope I am making the worse of it. Here I am, the person that encourages other people to look at the brighter sides of a yucky situation, but today I can't do it for myself. Maybe I am feeling sorry for myself ahead of time. But I am just plain scared. I could pee on myself. I sure hope the PRESCRIBED xanax will help a little. Ugg...... I just don't wanna go!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
GHOST HUNTING
So I have been a ghost hunter 2 years this December. WOW time flies when your having fun. I have many investigations under my belt and every investigation is different. Our goal......debunk. It's when we can't debunk it that it gets interesting. I have many recorded EVPs. Pictures with possible apparitions. But my favorite part besides the investigation it's self is discovering the EVP's or abnormal pictures. Join us on our web at: www.mymindseye.ning.com
Friday, July 9, 2010
blog #1 "cont"
So...this lady moved in with a three old girl. I instantly feel in love with my soon to be little sister.
She couldn't speak a word out of her Korean language. Mom had passed on April 4, and dad remarried on July 15 of the same year. I hadn't realized it yet, but this was the start of years of anxiety, panic attacks and stress related illnesses...
Although it seemed interesting at the time to have a foreign step mother, the weirdness in my home was just beginning. I remember her (the step mom) chasing my oldest sister with a butchers' knife. Sister had run out the back door, jumped the back fence and never came home. She moved in with a friend. Then what really seemed odd to me was almost every time my oldest brother walked through the kitchen when the step mom was chopping something on the cutting board, there was always a comment made about how she could "choppy choppy his pecker." I truly believe she had a crush on my brother.
She had beat little sis (her daughter) with a plastic little shovel on the head because she didn't listen. For crying out loud, the child is three. There go a few stitches in her poor little head.
I don't know if abuse is a power thing with her or what. But we all got it. I know my dad felt stuck between a rock and a hard place, but shouldn't the children come first? I have a hard time with that one to this day.
She had beaten me with bamboo sticks across my legs, arms and chest. She beat my chest so badly, that my breast tissue was damaged to a point that I had no boobies til years later when I got pregnant and the hormones kicked in. I was nineteen then.
My baby brother was born about a year later. Again I fell in love. When that child was brought home, (I was 13 then) I knew a mother is what I wanted to be when I grew up. Between my little step sister and my new half brother, these are the only two things I thanked her for.
My freshman year in high school, Our family packed up and left California and headed to Missouri. This where my dad grew up, and I could finally meet the grandparents I only knew as a voice over the phone. Instantly I knew I belonged. My grandma and grandpa showed the love of grandparents that I longed to have. I was introduced to cousins that I instantly bonded with. And Aunts and an Uncle I loved from the start. I was so thrilled to have all these people in my life. The house we moved into was a nice house in the tiny town of New Hampton. Dinky as it was, I loved it. I loved the fact that I could walk to my grandparents house anytime I wanted. And knew I was always welcome. I loved feeding the hogs with grandpa, picking berries with grandma and eating her cooking. Grandma's always have good food.
One day in the winter, my middle brother had done something (minor I'm sure) to upset the step mom. So, without a coat in the middle of winter while lit was snowing, she locked him out of the house for punishment. He went to the grandparents. Dad got home from work and wasn't really happy with her. Another time, the baby brother was about 3 and he had noticed that the wind had blown a box of matches off dads' dresser and he started to pick them up. (he want not playing with them, i know, i was there) so she decided to lock him in her room and burn his fingers. I ran and got my middle brother and together we knocked her door down. He sat on her, while I grabbed the baby brother and locked us both in my bedroom until dad got home. EVIL is what I decided she is. I was on guard 24/7 for my sister and brothers.
I was not gonna let her hurt them anymore. I was willing to take sting of sword for my siblings.
This was the time of my life where I started talking to GOD. I not only prayed, I talked to him to release the confusion and pain I was feeling. Why talk my mom and spring all horror on us?
I didn't blame him, I just wanted answers. I was so confused.
She couldn't speak a word out of her Korean language. Mom had passed on April 4, and dad remarried on July 15 of the same year. I hadn't realized it yet, but this was the start of years of anxiety, panic attacks and stress related illnesses...
Although it seemed interesting at the time to have a foreign step mother, the weirdness in my home was just beginning. I remember her (the step mom) chasing my oldest sister with a butchers' knife. Sister had run out the back door, jumped the back fence and never came home. She moved in with a friend. Then what really seemed odd to me was almost every time my oldest brother walked through the kitchen when the step mom was chopping something on the cutting board, there was always a comment made about how she could "choppy choppy his pecker." I truly believe she had a crush on my brother.
She had beat little sis (her daughter) with a plastic little shovel on the head because she didn't listen. For crying out loud, the child is three. There go a few stitches in her poor little head.
I don't know if abuse is a power thing with her or what. But we all got it. I know my dad felt stuck between a rock and a hard place, but shouldn't the children come first? I have a hard time with that one to this day.
She had beaten me with bamboo sticks across my legs, arms and chest. She beat my chest so badly, that my breast tissue was damaged to a point that I had no boobies til years later when I got pregnant and the hormones kicked in. I was nineteen then.
My baby brother was born about a year later. Again I fell in love. When that child was brought home, (I was 13 then) I knew a mother is what I wanted to be when I grew up. Between my little step sister and my new half brother, these are the only two things I thanked her for.
My freshman year in high school, Our family packed up and left California and headed to Missouri. This where my dad grew up, and I could finally meet the grandparents I only knew as a voice over the phone. Instantly I knew I belonged. My grandma and grandpa showed the love of grandparents that I longed to have. I was introduced to cousins that I instantly bonded with. And Aunts and an Uncle I loved from the start. I was so thrilled to have all these people in my life. The house we moved into was a nice house in the tiny town of New Hampton. Dinky as it was, I loved it. I loved the fact that I could walk to my grandparents house anytime I wanted. And knew I was always welcome. I loved feeding the hogs with grandpa, picking berries with grandma and eating her cooking. Grandma's always have good food.
One day in the winter, my middle brother had done something (minor I'm sure) to upset the step mom. So, without a coat in the middle of winter while lit was snowing, she locked him out of the house for punishment. He went to the grandparents. Dad got home from work and wasn't really happy with her. Another time, the baby brother was about 3 and he had noticed that the wind had blown a box of matches off dads' dresser and he started to pick them up. (he want not playing with them, i know, i was there) so she decided to lock him in her room and burn his fingers. I ran and got my middle brother and together we knocked her door down. He sat on her, while I grabbed the baby brother and locked us both in my bedroom until dad got home. EVIL is what I decided she is. I was on guard 24/7 for my sister and brothers.
I was not gonna let her hurt them anymore. I was willing to take sting of sword for my siblings.
This was the time of my life where I started talking to GOD. I not only prayed, I talked to him to release the confusion and pain I was feeling. Why talk my mom and spring all horror on us?
I didn't blame him, I just wanted answers. I was so confused.
Way back in the 5th grade
Well, this is the first blog I ever wrote to be read by others. It's been said if you write it down, it may help. So here I go.
From what I can remember, it all began with a going away party for my dad. He was going to Korea for 13 months. All I knew was the Army was taking my Dad away. Taking him away and leaving me, my two brothers, my sister, and my Mom alone.
There was this huge long table cover with all kinds of picnic foods and drinks. Tons of people I didn't know and a few I did. All friends of my Mom and Dad. I think that was the first time I tasted beer. Yuck! Just a sip out of someones can sitting around the back yard. Wont try that again.
Next memory, Dad is gone. Mom got really sick. Year. 1972. I was 9. My Mom, a full blood German with a wonderful accent that all my friends loved was on her own with 4 kids. Mom had been dependent on Dad a lot. She didn't even have a drivers license. Until Dad left. She had to learn how to drive in her late thirty's. Because life went on as normal for awhile, nothing really stood out at this time.
Months had passed, maybe 7 or 8. And Dad was home. Why? Why wasn't I told anything? Come to find out Mon was really sick. She had her left breast cut off. Then she spent a lot of time in the hospital. LOTS. I still didn't know what was happening. I guess back then, you didn't share those things with your children.
Now I am on the playground at Cypress Elementary School in Highland California. For some reason, I see the school principal, Mr. Washington approaching Mr. Inman, my 5th grade teacher with the dreaded pink slip. They chat a few minutes and then both their eyes are looking at me and they start walking my way.
I am told to go to Mrs. Godwin's house. Where is my little brother? I'm told he will be there too. I so remember walking to her house and taking the longest route to get there. I know something is really bad if I get to leave school so early.
Arriving at the end of her driveway, I did not want to reach the front door. I knew inside me something wasn't right. I could feel dread filling my body.
Mrs. Godwin had this big dinner bell hanging outside her front door. We were told not to ring it. (We always wanted to ring it. At 10, it was cool, just the big swimming pool in her back yard). I rang it. Hard. Mrs. G. opened the front door and just stood there a few seconds and looked at me. That is all it took. I looked her straight in the eyes and said "My momma is dead isn't she?" Staring at her, she reached out and grabbed me up and started bawling. That day was April 4, 1973. My life had changed for the worse from that day on. It went downhill for years. Don't get wrong, there are always good things in life that happen at bad times in your life. As you read on, you will understand. All I remember about the funeral is the ride in the hearse and my best friend sitting by herself.
Next memory....My Dad has us four kids gathered at the front door in living room. He says "he is going to go pick up our new soon-to-be step mom. Now I am sure there is conversation before this about this, but I just don't remember. What I do remember is, my Momma died a month ago and my Dad already has a woman moving in our home? He even said that if we want too, we can call her Mom. WHAT? Out the door he goes to the airport. In the meantime, my big sister is explaining to me that she (the new woman) is from another country and she has a little girl about 3 years old. That was kind of interesting to me. But this lady will not be my Mom........
From what I can remember, it all began with a going away party for my dad. He was going to Korea for 13 months. All I knew was the Army was taking my Dad away. Taking him away and leaving me, my two brothers, my sister, and my Mom alone.
There was this huge long table cover with all kinds of picnic foods and drinks. Tons of people I didn't know and a few I did. All friends of my Mom and Dad. I think that was the first time I tasted beer. Yuck! Just a sip out of someones can sitting around the back yard. Wont try that again.
Next memory, Dad is gone. Mom got really sick. Year. 1972. I was 9. My Mom, a full blood German with a wonderful accent that all my friends loved was on her own with 4 kids. Mom had been dependent on Dad a lot. She didn't even have a drivers license. Until Dad left. She had to learn how to drive in her late thirty's. Because life went on as normal for awhile, nothing really stood out at this time.
Months had passed, maybe 7 or 8. And Dad was home. Why? Why wasn't I told anything? Come to find out Mon was really sick. She had her left breast cut off. Then she spent a lot of time in the hospital. LOTS. I still didn't know what was happening. I guess back then, you didn't share those things with your children.
Now I am on the playground at Cypress Elementary School in Highland California. For some reason, I see the school principal, Mr. Washington approaching Mr. Inman, my 5th grade teacher with the dreaded pink slip. They chat a few minutes and then both their eyes are looking at me and they start walking my way.
I am told to go to Mrs. Godwin's house. Where is my little brother? I'm told he will be there too. I so remember walking to her house and taking the longest route to get there. I know something is really bad if I get to leave school so early.
Arriving at the end of her driveway, I did not want to reach the front door. I knew inside me something wasn't right. I could feel dread filling my body.
Mrs. Godwin had this big dinner bell hanging outside her front door. We were told not to ring it. (We always wanted to ring it. At 10, it was cool, just the big swimming pool in her back yard). I rang it. Hard. Mrs. G. opened the front door and just stood there a few seconds and looked at me. That is all it took. I looked her straight in the eyes and said "My momma is dead isn't she?" Staring at her, she reached out and grabbed me up and started bawling. That day was April 4, 1973. My life had changed for the worse from that day on. It went downhill for years. Don't get wrong, there are always good things in life that happen at bad times in your life. As you read on, you will understand. All I remember about the funeral is the ride in the hearse and my best friend sitting by herself.
Next memory....My Dad has us four kids gathered at the front door in living room. He says "he is going to go pick up our new soon-to-be step mom. Now I am sure there is conversation before this about this, but I just don't remember. What I do remember is, my Momma died a month ago and my Dad already has a woman moving in our home? He even said that if we want too, we can call her Mom. WHAT? Out the door he goes to the airport. In the meantime, my big sister is explaining to me that she (the new woman) is from another country and she has a little girl about 3 years old. That was kind of interesting to me. But this lady will not be my Mom........
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