It has been a long day at work. I had to stay late for a big meeting, and I didn't get home until almost 8:30. I left at 6:30 this morning. Soemhow, there just doesn't seem to be enough time in the day.

But, as much as I found the day to be never-ending, I think now of those serving in our military forces--and how never-ending that assignment must seem. For some, it really never ends. They never come home. Not as we remember them, anyway.

And, while they are concerned about the lives of those around them--of their own lives--I worry about staying late at work here in the homeland, staying late so that we can sell a product to the world that really isn't absolutely necessary. I can say that it is necessary to enjoy life, and we provide a means to enhance that enjoyment, but I still don't think I should be complaining about my relatively easy day--and world.

There have been a lot of deaths in Iraq, and today the radio really went to town on trying to affirm in people's minds that this is a "civil war" and not a "war against terrorists." For today, I don't care which it is. People are dying. We need to find a way to promote the good things in life, the universal good things that all people recognize as valuable: smiles, laughter, good food, hard work, good fun, caring family and good neighbors. We need to let the world know that we are wanting the people in Iraq to find their own future, a future that every individual recognizes as good and full of hope.

We can't achieve peace until we send a message that life can be good and that hope is inherent in each of us. We need to extend to these people the idea that "all people are created equal" and entitled to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." And we are not going to pound this thought into their heads. We can only demonstrate it through works. While I don't encourage a Christian-style mission of private individuals, I do encourage the thought that we must go forth into the world and extend an olive branch, that we must provide leadership through grace. To do so, we need to establish that all men are, indeed, equal in our eyes--and that justice can only be served through respect and honor, not domination and humiliation.

Let every person of every creed send a message of hope to Iraq, a message that extends hope and respect.

I just got home from working the weekend. And I wonder why we work seven days a week. Where does it get you? All you do is make more money to pay more bills so you can get gas money to go to work the next day. And, in the meantime, none of the bills at home get paid. It's very frustrating and very exhausting.

I hate complaining. And now I'm complaining about complaining. Everything seems to happen in a cycle.

And now I need to go to bed so I can get up tomorrow and go to work again.

I am tired tonight. Exhausted. And deliberately so. I want to sleep, so I am staying up late--and as I stay awake, I sanded down a kitchen island and put a mineral oil finish on it. My sister gave it to me last week, and it's just been sitting in my kitchn. I used to work in the office of the company that made these ready-to-assemble hard wood furniture--about fifteen years ago, until they went bust. I remember selling this one to my sister's then-boyfriend (later, husband), and I used to have a similar one, but it kind of languished through time and neglect. I hope to take better care of this one.

I will be gone from tomorrow night until Sunday night. It's my weekend to work...though this time I only work on Saturday night. With tomorrow night off, I"m going to stay at a friend's house tomorrow night...my very best friend. One day I hope to marry this man. We just have to figure out how to coordinate his mother, my kids and each other.

I will miss writing. I like to write, especially when I'm stressed. But I won't have access to a computer for a few days, and this is not a good thing for my mind. It likes to think, to keep active, and to communicate the thoughts through writing. I think I'll survive, but it won't be easy.

I better go to bed soon. I need rest. Today at work, I threw up twice. The food sat in my esophagus and really, really hurt as it just sat there. I thought maybe I could take some rolaids and it might relax the tube--but instead, the food came back up. And it didn't have that acid taste that it would have had should it have reached my stomach. It was a horrible feeling. I knew I could breathe, and I wan't having a heart attack, but it hurt like the devil. And then it just popped up after I took the rolaids. I really think I need to relax, and I'm hoping tomorrow night will help.

It's time to sleep. I hope I do.

Here I am again. Almost midnight. And I feel like something the dog dragged in--then dragged back out. Somehow, the dog forgot that there's a warm bed that is just begging for me to use.

I want a manual or something to tell me what decisions to make...or at least, once I make a decision, to tell me not to keep second guessing myself. Not to worry. That life comes along and happens...and we need to roll with the punches.

But that would be too easy.

I took an online test earlier tonight to determine if I'm depressed and, if I am, then it will show you how depressed you are. I was as far into the "major depression" side as you could get. Maybe I'm not always as wishy washy as I think. When I do something, I do it all the way. If I am depressed, then I guess I might as well do it right!

And, you know, there's not much I can do about it. It's pretty obvious that I should go see a counselor or someone, but it's also pretty obvious that I can't afford that. I sure could use a counselor or at least a friend. But I can't communicate all these thoughts to even a very good friend.

I think that is one thing I hate about the incest. It helped me learn how to keep secrets--but only those secrets that could hurt me. In almost everything else, I am an open book. But if I'm hurting, then I won't tell you that. Even if I cry, I can't tell you why. I guess that's what taboo subjects tend to do--surround the little thing and expand it's boundaries until it's all way out of proportion. And then, when you never realized it was happening, that one little part that was supposed to be a secret has suddenly caused your entire life to be a secret.

I have gone to counselors in the past. But when I'm there, I don't know that I've ever been completely honest with one. The closest I came was a few months back when I tried to get help through our employee assistance program at work. I went to a counselor, who recognized that I had some issues (as they say). And he was more than willing to help me, but he was not local--so I asked him to refer me to a local counselor. He did. The insurance company didn't cover his referral. So I either have to pay for it all myself, which I can't even begin to do--or go somewhere else that I can't afford gas and time for, but the insurance company will pay for the visit. What a choice.

That counselor did know that I needed help, but I couldn't even tell him everything. I was honest, but not everything could be told. So, how do you get help from a counselor when part of the problem is that you can't discuss the problem?

So, now, I am going to try to go to bed again. And I hope to goodness that I sleep good!

I'm trying to be a positive person. I really am. I want to think that things can only get better.

But they don't.

Today I had enough money to pay the insurance that was past due as it said was due on the notices they sent to me. The notice said I had to pay by today or insurance will be canceled tomorrow morning at 12:01 a.m. It is being canceled tomorrow.

The notices were deceiving. I gathered the money to the penny and took it in. I got there, and the agent advised me that I actually had to pay three times the amount that the notice said. The notice was strictly a legal requirement and gave the amount necessary according to the statutes. But for the insurance company to continue coverage, I needed to pay the amount on the legal notice and two additional months' insurance. So, I won't have insurance as of tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will call and get new quotes with another agency. I think I can get some for a much better price than they are offering me.

But it is all raining down. I seem to keep going back in my mind to wondering whether I would be in this spot if my childhood had been different, if I had never been molested. And then I think how I'm in the exact same spot I was ten years ago, broke and no insurance, bills owing to everyone--and there's been no molestation during that time, so I don't know if I can say that the childhood experience really made a difference.

So, when I think about all this, I worry about the insurance. I am concerned that my car will break down--and if it breaks down on the road now, will a highway patrol come along and ask if I need help, and then ask me for proof of insurance? I can't afford food. I can't afford to pay medical bills. I have past due credit card debt. I can't even get my son his senior pictures. I took a second job every other weekend--only this weekend I'm told I'll only be needed for half a weekend, so my money will be cut in half. And I'll have an extra person to care for, but only get about 40% more than the one. I haven't been paid for last month yet because they didn't send the right paperwork, so now I got it today and I'll get paid next month for both this month and last month. I haven't gotten any decent child support for the past ten months....he now owes about $7000 just for this year. I'm grouchy with the world. My body just keeps gaining weight...

Isn't it funny that for every physical ailment you read about, you're supposed to lose weight. That doesn't work with depression, at least not my depression. I have gained forty pounds in the past year. I lost thirty the year before. So I net only about ten. Not good.

I think I'll try to sleep tonight. I hope I can...