Day 2 of October Postive Challenge
https://beckyms1213blog.wordpress.com/2018/10/01/im-trying-to-better-myself-2/
5 Things That make me smile or happy
1. Writing for hours straight
2. Compliments about my writing
3. Getting paid for my writing, (see a pattern here)
4. Cooking or baking awesome food
5. Having and playing with cats
I’m taking part in 31 day self challenge. . . From http://www.7cups.com
That I posted here. . . https://beckyms1213blog.wordpress.com/2018/10/01/im-trying-to-better-myself-2/
Day 1: Self Esteem Challenge – List 10 things that you love about yourself. (Physical or personality)
1. My writing http://rebekahquinne.wordpress.com
2. My musical ability
3. Giving nature
4. Strength
5. Control
6. Endurance
7. My hope
8. Sense of humor
9. My hair
10. My eyes
Growing up, my sibling and I were raised that our pets, were not just animals but they were a part of the family. They were family members. We always had at least a cat or dog. . . Sometimes we have rabbits or hamsters too. However most cats and dome dogs were furry babies, I can depend on to talk ur snuggle. The animals do listen and communicate back.
I was snuggling with a cat at age of 6 months, my parents have pictures if me in my baby photo album cuddling with my first cat, Spooky, she was a black Siamese. She got wild: she would hiss and scratch, and they took her to a farm. (My grandpa actually did, the same farm, he got his watermelons, he sold at his fruit stand.)
My first dog was a corgi named hopeless. She died when she got hit by a car . . . I was 7, my parents took it hard.
Mama was my second cat a miniature torishell, she had Orange, an orange tiger, who can open doors. She also had Joey (a grey tiger) and Roshell (torishell) who cuddled with each other.
Our second dog was a Keeshond, Bear, a grey fuzzy winter dog, hair everywhere. . . Who knocked down the Christmas tree the first day home as a puppy. It was sad to see him go. We had him 15 years, easy.
My dad go more corgis, were had four in the last ten years. One of the claimed my youngest brother. Ten years later, he had to put her down. It was hard, but it made him tough.
I had one of my favorite Mona a miniature caico, who loved my brother’s cat Dirty Dog, an orange tiger. (My brother has claimed all orange cats.) He was originally Sir Doughnut after eating an entire doughnut bigger than he was after eating weed when he was a kitten. Dirty would talk to me and would argue with Mona. my mom would feed Dirty, but he would burping my brother’s face.
I loved the other cats I had Sybelle who thought she was better than all, and Armand who was brother to Mona. Armand ran away.
I had MoMo for almost a year, but she by herself had anxiety whenever I would leave to do errands. So I sent her to a family that had other cats, because she needed to know that she was not alone.
My current cat that I miss is elmo. I helped heal him with an eye infection.
I am currently in a living situation in which I cannot have a cat. They help my anxiety, and I can cuddle with them.
We have a stray, I also call Mama. We got someone to take her kittens, but they said she was too wild, but I’m not supposed to feed her. It kills me.
I don’t want kids. https://beckyms1213blog.wordpress.com/2018/09/11/anti-kid-zone/
However I do want a few fur babies. I hope to find a guy who love cats and some dogs like I do. Someone who will help take care of them and let them sleep with us in bed.
I hope to get out of my live-in situation soon, so I can have my cats again.
They help me with my anxiety and depression. They are not just my fur babies, but my friends. They are the third thing that makes me happy. . . (1. Writing, 2. Good food, 3. Cats)
I do not want kids. I like sleeping in. I like going out. I like to write without “butthead is hitting me.” “He called me a butthead”
Please do not tell me that you’ll spoil me and only me, but secretly leave your kids hanging. (If you are a kid person, please do not have more than you can afford. Please don’t make you or them struggle for food or a roof over your head.)
I’m not mean to be mom or a step mom, and I do not want to be. I’ve learned the “I love your dad and I want us to be friends. . . It is very tricky.
(I also don’t go to the bar or other locations and take any random guy home. I am dominant, monogamous, demisexual, saphiosexual, and grey sexual. This means I’m seeking a smart, submissive boyfriend for a female led relationship possible marriage. I’m seeking more of the relationship than the sex. The grey sexual part means I’m picky in who I am attracted to. I have health issues, in which I cannot physically enjoy sex. So it’s really going to take someone over special to not want kids or sex.)
Currently, I’m seeking friends, around my age, but preferably those without kids. . . It’s not your fault or your kids fault, but I’m going down a path with no kids in it. This is a very rare find, I know. ( I write about ghosts, vampires, violence, and sex . . . Mature audiences only.)
I just want to enjoy a night without a call from the babysitter or without the million stories of how Jr walked early or how he looks like the mail man which he has cussed out.
If you have kids, please seek someone else. I think you should find those with kids too, so you can plan fun dates with and without your kids. (Just a suggestion. . . )
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I was not always against kids, but I got burnt out in college. (When my last obygn told me that I have like a less than a 5% chance of having a healthy, complete pregnancy, I knew kids are not in my cards.)
My first story that freaked me out with infant was when I changed my brother. I was 12 and my stepmother was going to Wal-Mart, she was only going to be gone 20 minutes, but of course during that time my brother decided to mess in his diaper. He was about 6 months, the age where they roll and crawl. I found the last diaper, put it on the couch, put him on the couch, but I lost the baby wipes. . . Grrr. I was looking for the damn wipes. I found them, he was only rocking back and forth, but still on the couch.
I took off his dirty diaper and clean up but then the clean diaper was gone. I moved him, but it was not under him. I put him back on the couch as I look behind the couch I heard a splat and the a shrieking cry. My baby brother had rolled off the couch on to the hard wooden floor. I grab the baby and the diaper on the floor as it was under the couch.
I put him on the couch, and checked him head to toe. . . There were no bumps, no bruises. He was okay. I’m freaking out still which was why he was still crying. I put his diaper on him and tried to call him down.
Once she got home, I told my stepmother who checks him over and give me a mixture of laughter, yelling, lecturing me (as if she was communicating me with different personalities, I felt like I was talking to Glenda the good witch, the wicked witch, and a mama dragon.) Then my stepmother said “I’m telling your father.” I’m freaking out crying in the shower thinking I’m going to get grounded because I am not responsible, because my stepmother is going to make it sound that I wanted to hurt my baby brother. . . In reality it was just accident.
I told my dad when he got home, he looked over my brother, and just said “be more careful next time.”
(It didn’t help that I had just hit by a car months before this incident.
I can’t hold a baby or change a baby under a year without freaking out in fear I’ll hurt that one too. I’m too nervous, scared, and anxious that I’m accidently going to hurt anyone else’s kid.
I dont know how I managed to take care of my youngest brother, but from the moment I got my first drivers tempts I blocked out from the years 15 and half to almost 18.)
My younger brothers were usually well-behaved boys who knew their “pleases” and “thank yous.” (I liked to think my walks and cars and cookies bribes were teaching in that.)
If I just had my brothers after school, I would probably still want kids, especially like them.
However, I would have help with breakfast, mornings (I’m not a morning person), when I got home school, and if I didn’t have to work. My average school day, get up, help make boys breakfast, eat breakfast, get them dressed, go to school, get home, watch the boys, try to get homework done, make dinner, eat, bath boys, shower, finish homework, sleep repeat. (I rarely had time to myself or with my friends. . . All because my stepmother had back and depression problems that mixed with a biological clock.)
My dad pushed the education major so when I had ear problems and couldn’t finish my music major, so I logically switched. I was good with my brothers, so I thought I would be good with kids. I’m not sure what precalculas had to do with teaching junior high math. . . But I was first Math and English teacher. . . I got a multi-varible calculas professor trying to teach me as if I know what kind of math that was. . . So I changed to early education. . . At the time I was volunteering for my brother’s elementary class. His classmates were all sweet and most were very helpful. I did enjoy it, but I don’t know if I could emotionally handle getting attached to kids for a year and them having to let them go.
At the time, I would voluteer once a month for nursery at the church, the toddler side, not infant side. My stepmother got sick one week so I took her week (as parents who use it are supposed to volunteer once every six weeks in order to allow everyone to attend service.) Then my stepmother started to volunteer me for her friends to, saying it looked good on my educational resume. However this happened for over seven months in which I never got to go to service. (My dad finally caught on and made sure I stopped volunteering as I was getting taken advantaged of.)
At the time, I was taking early education courses only to find out as soon as I finished them the main college said everything I learned was out of date and they had newer lessons and I were to repeat three of my courses in order to keep early childhood education major. However I was not to get any refunds or credits for previous classes. I had not been out with anyone my age for months and burned, I had a break down. I changed my major to English as if too me 6 years to get a basic Associate of Arts.
I have been diagnosed with high anxiety, panic attacks, depression, and PTSD. . . I do not want that around kids.
I rather just have cats, maybe a dog or two, but that is another blog.
I learned babysitting with one than one kid is good birth control.
I learned I will always goid to Hell and back for anyone of my siblings.
I posted a simple version of this on my therapy site 7 cups.
I’ve been to 2 therapists, one kept pushing a job, but I have energy issues.the second one kept saying most are my issues are hormonal.
My main thoughts in no particular order. . .
1. Are the different pieces of my family ok? My mom has her health issues. My dad side of he family still not talking to me. . . But I still think of them. My closest brother has health issues (but sometimes, I think he does better than me.). My one brother just got married and other just graduated with many options ahead for him. I have a very young sister, so young she could easily be my own daughter and yet, I haven’t gotten to bond with her. I rather play with the toddler than the infant. I have a sister-in-law who I wish I so could chat with more, but it all just turns into he-said, he-said drama.
2. When can we have our own space (My family and I?) (My mom, brother and uncle live in a very tight space, and it’s very crowded and not as fun as like the show “My Name is Earl.) I would just like my own desk, working computer, WiFi, and recliner to sleep in.
3. I can’t work, and a few doctors will write notes, but government facilities will not count it. (Stupid president killed that.) I can’t work, I can’t sleep right: I go to bed tired, I wake up tired. No one wants me to use those 5 hour vitamins shots, but it’s the only way I can function for errands.
4. I can’t lose weight due to hormones I’m taking and bad sleep issues. The body needs to be balanced and get right sleep in order to function correctly. I lose 5 pounds, but gain ten in water weight. I’m going to scream if I get more doctor thinking all of my health problems are based on me being overweight. I can’t work so I can’t buy decent groceries. Because of weight I feel I’m ugly and not worthy. . . My doctors or media do not help my self esteem.
5. I can go from sweet and caring to bitter and mean. I’m also losing the propper, politeness filter of saying things especially when I’m flustered. My family know I’m bruntly honest, and I try to watch for other’s feelings, but they call me the bear, because I can snap and growl for no reason. I’m afraid to date because it’s bad to snap for no reason in the middle of a date. I don’t know all of my triggers. I know it’s hormonal, and my doctors don’t seem to care.
6. My energy versus my “luck” versus my writing. I love to write, but my lights and computers keep breaking. . . I feel like fates are against me writing, why God/Goddess, why? Writing helps me release and express myself. I’m borrowing the third desk light from a neighbor. I have two computers: one broke in which wires are exposed, my other computer’s fan is broken and charger over heats. I’m using my mom tablet to write this because my tablet needs to be plugged in at all times and tries to run every program at once. (Even when I have them turned off, it’s like if my Wi-Fi is on, it tries to override my controls.)
7. Why can’t I have a cat? Cats help my anxiety, especially petting them when they purr. The current land lady doesn’t even want us feeding the old stray, friendly mama cat.
8. Where can I advertise my blogs? I feel I do not have enough readers and fans, but I feel Facebook pushes it too much.
https://rebekah1213.wordpress.com/
9. Why am in pain at least 5 days out of week? Headaches, pelvic pains, sinus pains, back pains, hip pain. . . Cramping when it’s not even my lady time. WTH? What is wrong with me? (I will let the doctors do their tests, but they can’t say it’s my weight.) I feel I get passed from doctor to doctor (as if they don’t want me) leaving me with more questions than any solutions. . .
10. I am so easily distracted. I can’t mediate or focus without someone or something pulling away my attention, especially during the day. So I try to write between the hours of 11pm to 3am, sometimes later, but I have to have a day schedule on at least Friday’s and any day I have a doctor appointment.
11. I’m lonely. I am not sure why all my so-called friends left me once my ex died. Were they only his friends, and I was just along for the ride? If it wasnt for me, they wouldn’t have hung out as much. I rather have a bunch of friends that hug me (and sometimes understands me,) than a random boyfriend who will just cheat on me when he realize with my health issues I cannot give him physical intimacy.
12. Can, I please win the Mega millions jackpot? I mean. . .May I please win the Mega millions jackpot? God/Goddess, you know 66% (2/3rds) will go to help others just like we agreed. I need a place to call home again, preferable our old land with a new house on it. You know if I had the choice right now. . . I would choose money over love. (I had love with Tom, and now it’s my time to work on me and help others. PLEASE. Today, I am buying a lottery ticket, may it have the six winning lottery numbers on it, again, please.).
13. I’m tired of the constant depressed and anxious feelings. . . That instant feeling of doom just around the corner. I hate how I am instantly sad like I want to cry but no reason why. . . Or I snap without warning. Who would want a friend who can bite your head off figuratively speaking?
There are more problems but these are the main issues that constantly boil in my head . . . It’s hard to sleep when my mind doesn’t stop. Maybe since I vented, I can sleep better. . . We’ll see.
Now you may go back to regular scheduled program. . . Lol.
Why am I analyzing myself with the questionnaire questions and articles from Eharmony?
Note: for those who do not know Eharmony is a Christian online date site which uses many questions to figure out your just right partner if they have that person online too.
So why am I doing this (especially when I failed their questionaire twice and was kicked off the site once when I said I thought I was bi-curious.)
First, I I usually overanalyze most things and dating is not different. Some things I’ve overanalyzed, I’ve gotten right and other things I’ve learned from.
Second, I’m not doing this to date (yet), but I hope to learn more about myself. (If I find friends who get me or maybe Mr. Right-for-me, then awesome. I’m here to learn first.)
Third, I really love answering questions and talking surveys and quizzes about myself.
My mom used to tell that . . . “Opposite attract.” That might be right in science, but mom and dad were opposites and they didn’t last. (Its also probably why I argue with myself too. J/k lol.)
I think for partners, there needs some similarities and some differences to keep things interesting p. As long as they keep communication open and honest, that is what is most important.
I need to know myself and get my “stuff” together before I can get someone else involved in the chaotic fun that is me. Lol.
As mentioned in my previous blog, I discovered a difference in being alone and be lonely.
Last month I made a release book. . . (I bought a cheap composition notebook, and I released everything. . . my hopes, dreams, fears, heartache, worries. . . then I reread it and ripped it to shreds. Normally I would burn it, but my current living situation will not allow that.) I felt lighter, but I learned about myself in the process.
With it, I deleted accounts that were wasting my life like plentyoffish or other personals. I kept getting the same horny guy or a guy to ask advice for another girl or the catfish (yes, I’ve caught my share, sigh.)
I have learned I need to love me first. I started working on my novel again.
I’m content writing in my own world.
The world feels so open and amazing.
I hate snow and my body hates cold. My joints are achy. My head is pounding and I’m so tired . . . My body cannot relax.
I miss walking. I miss warm breezes.
I wish I could live in a place that was mostly sunny. . . 70`s during the day and 50`s at night. However no snakes, bugs, spiders, or bees. (I know we need those for flowers to grow, but I am more of a city girl anyway, not a farm/country girl. I just want to be able to go outside for a long walk and worry about ice.)
The problem is that most people want that too so it would belong the rich for vacation escapes.
It honestly only exists in my dreams. . . Sighs.
After my semi vanilla relations, (Oct to Dec (2017)) . . . I’ve learned I cannot not go vanilla, but I do want to date and cuddle.
I want a positive, ambitious submissive boyfriend. (I do not want a mindless drone or a complainer.)
However I’m slowly learning that life or fate will never put you in the wrong spot. I learned I need to let life do it’s thing. I should not push because I feel desperately lonely.
I’ve learned life will put in me in the right place, at the right time, even if I’m confused in the present.
I just need to do my thing and Mr. Right will be there when I probably least expect it.
Meanwhile I should enjoy my life: good writing, good family, and good friends.
I just to realize I will find that genuine people that I’m into, but they are not into me. I’m not everyone’s favorite soda-pop or cup of tea.
I simply need to move on and focus and believe life knows what it is doing.
My sleep schedules are really off. . .
If I fall asleep between 7 pm and 9pm will be up by the latest 2am and my schedule is completely off.
Then I usually write 2am until 8 am and the light has known to give me migraines. Grrr.
However my body loves to sleep between the hours of 7am to 1pm (or if anyone wants to text me in the morning. )
If I get at least a good five to nine hours, I write well.
Ideally I would love to go to bed 3am and wake up by 10am and write 12pm to 5pm, but my muses have different ideas.
I try to find just a few hours for myself.
Can’t I just have six hours for out time and 18 hours of active time?
I’m usually tired all of the time.
I have to thank whom ever made caffeine my best friend. I love coffee and my Pepsi.
In my head 