When people commend me on my courage to state my opinions or just be myself, I tell them it has nothing to do with courage, it's overcoming a lifelong fear of being singled out and punished for something, for being myself or for stating my opinions.

To grow up in a state like Kentucky and be "different", you are immediately targeted by someone who thinks they can get the upper hand on you = I don't know what it is about this state, but it seems to be the norm.

I never did go hunting with my brother, never did hang out with him when he went drinking with his buddies, but he did teach me how to play poker and when I started winning all the hands, he wouldn't let me play any more. I eventually learned to drink on my own and I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed the taste of a good cold Michelob. Can't drink now because of my recent illness, but when the doctor gives me the "thumbs up" to treat myself to a sit-down restaurant dinner, I'm going to order a Michelob with my dinner.

Maybe indulge once a month, who knows, maybe not. I'm sick of being sick, sick of taking all these meds, sick of this diet I'm on, but I know they are making me better, making me stronger, helping me with my recuperation.

Walking through the fear = I heard that on one of Oprah's shows the other day and it stuck with me, even though it was a woman describing her struggle to be strong and independent, but that's what I've always wanted out of life, to be strong and independent and I think I've achieved it to a certain extent, but when I got very sick with pneumonia and it almost killed me, my self-confidence and my motivation went out the window.

It made me vulnerable, not in control of my life, having to turn parts of my life over to total strangers who were supposed to "help me along" with my recuperation and my recovery, but it didn't turn out that way, not for me anyway. I felt trapped, suffocated, like I couldn't get enough space around me, couldn't take control of anything in my life, fearing that my life was always going to be like this = turning it over for someone else to manage.

But eventually I got rid of those people who were supposed to "help me along" and in the process gained some great friends, the women I hired to clean my place for me. They not only cleaned my place spotless, they became my friends and one of them is going to help me maintain my place, coming by once a  month to "help me along" = to really "help me along" with no hidden agenda = just being my friend and helping me.

You see, I'm not "normal" in any sense of the word, whatever "normal" means = I don't think like other people, I am hesitant to make friends, hesitant to let anyone get that close to me, that is a fear that I think I'm overcoming, at least I hope it is.

Through all of "this" = the past 2 months, which everyone by now is aware of what "this" is = I've become aware of the goodness and kindness of people who are genuine people = no pretense, they are who they are and accept me for who I am = they are not afraid of my opinions, my station in life, my desire to live my life on my own terms, they are not afraid of that, but at the beginning, I was afraid of them, an unknown fear that drove me to shut people out, isolate myself (which I still do, but it's OK now, it's for my own peace of mind) and not trust anyone, because I had been burned too many times because I let people take advantage of me = they saw my kindness as a weakness they could take advantage and they did, so I lost my trust in a lot of humankind.

But as I get older and approach the last years of my life, I know that tomorrow is not promised to anyone, that all of us are going to die one of these days, that one day my babies are going to leave me, but the fear of losing another one of my babies drives me to the brink of paranoia at times but I have to walk myself through that fear, got to get up and walk myself through that wall of fear, got to do it. Can I do it? I have to, I have to.

I believe God is waiting for me when I go Home, I believe He will lead me to a place where all my babies are, to that place at the Rainbow Bridge where I can once again see them in their wholeness. It took me a long time to accept that, the place where I was going, but I do believe with all my heart that is where I am going, to be with them. That was another fear I had to walk through, but I walked through it and believe that's where I am going.

. . . And Still I Rise

After all is said and done and my name has faded from memory, my spirit will still be around, checking to make sure everyone is fulfilling God's wishes = the main wish I have after I am gone is that the work to rescue the defenseless animals and abused strays will continue.

That is my wish and my prayer.

I have already made all of my final arrangements = there will be nothing left to chance, I organized it.

I'm a great organizer and wanted to put my final wishes in my own words.

My recent episodes of illness and grief stripped my soul bare, as if there were nothing left and my brush with death was real and surreal at the same time, like Lazarus, I came back, not quite as strong in body but strong in mind. I didn't actually die, but I came close, according to the doctors in the Emergency Room.

Being that sick is psychological as well as physical. My body betrayed me, didn't hold its promise of keeping me safe, but after all, I am mortal and I was wounded, seriously wounded by pneumonia, the silent killer that strikes without warning, especially to the elderly.

. . . and still I rise.

My routines are now normal, but I don't feel normal, I feel empty emotionally, having cried in my grief and cried out in desperation in the hospital to God to "let me go" = "just let me go" = but He did not "let me go". Trapped, I felt trapped.

Just found out last night that one of my classmates passed away in May 2014, the month of my birthday and the month of my diagnosis for MS. I cried for her, for she was one of my favorite people to be around = silly and reckless and outspoken, she was a bright light in my dark world. God rest her beautiful soul.

When all the paper plates on the kitchen floor are no longer put out for feeding, it will be time for me to go, it will be time for God to lead me home, for I no longer want to inhabit this earth without at least one of my babies in it. I don't think I'm going to live that long, but I think I will be here to see the last one of my babies breathe their final breath = I believe that's why God brought me back from the brink = to take care of them.

In honor of National Black Cat Day, here is a picture of my baby Lucy Belle =

She is representing . . . my baby . . . and she is my company tonight as I take the words out of my head and put them down in front of me.

People often ask me to write "happy" tales, but I don't think I'm wired for that = some people are born to be just who they are and I am just who I am supposed to be = took me a long time to get here, to recognize myself as myself, but here I am.

. . . and still I rise.

I can't make up stuff to write, it has to be "real" to me and my thoughts are very real, they are a part of my past, my present and my future. I have loved parts of my life and I have hated parts of my life, but when all was said and done, I was who I was supposed to be.

Take me for who and what I am or let me be.

I don't need your approval to live my life the way I want to live it and some people have a distorted view of my life, one which they will never change, but most of the time, their view is not true and it's not mine.

= To Maya Angelou, who passed away, also in 2014, my eternal thanks for writing this poem for those who have beaten the odds. =

In The Midnight Hour

In the midnight hour, I'll take you there = 

Inside my head filled with thoughts, emotions and suicide bouncing off each other, each wanting to break free, to express themselves, but I am unable to let all of them out = fear takes over.

Everything is quiet this midnight as if I am the only living person on the planet, but I know that's not true. The TV is turned off, lights blaze in two rooms and the bathroom, I don't know why I don't turn them off, but I don't, psychological I know, but I can't bring myself to turn them off.

Sitting behind my computer keyboard, don't have any company tonight, just me, putting my thoughts down, my babies are elsewhere in the trailer, in my newly partially-cleaned trailer, looking brand new, but it somehow seems like a hollow place, even in its cleanliness, it seems like somebody else's place.

Baby-Doo (aka Boo) has been gone 8 days now, but it seems like yesterday when I held him in my arms and said goodbye. He "claimed" me from the moment I rescued him almost 13 years ago and he didn't stop loving me and "claiming" me until he drew his last breath. I let him go because he was suffering = he couldn't breathe without struggling and I know that feeling too well, having survived two attacks of pneumonia that led me to the brink of death, been home 2 weeks from the hospital when I made the decision to release him from his struggle.

He kept me company beside the computer one last time, making a valiant effort to be normal, but I believe he was doing it for me because he thought I wanted him to and I did want him there and I praised him, made over him and he left his mark on the side of my computer and went into the living room and tried to sleep that night, but at 4 o'clock the next morning, he was telling me he needed to go, I could see it in his eyes, in his face which had aged over the last 2 weeks, he was asking me to let him go.

My friend came by and she carried him to her car = I sat in the back with Baby-Doo and let him roam free = he stood up at both windows and looked through both of them, watching the rain come down, feeling the air on his face from the open window and watching the hillsides go by, watching the traffic go by, the first and last time he would experience that kind of freedom. I wrapped him in a quilt I had with me, been with me many, many years, carried him to the table and held him = he kissed me on the cheek one last time and head-butted me one last time, like he did the day I rescued him and then he was gone = he was cremated wrapped in that quilt and his ashes will be with me shortly, to sit beside Beanie's on my computer desk.

As I struggle every day to come to terms with Baby-Doo's death, I also struggle every day to regain my health = a monumental task in both cases. The pain, like it has been in the past, when my other babies died, is shattering and beyond description in my soul = my heart actually hurts when the grief overtakes me, full throttle and there's no stopping it. The facade I present when there are other people around quickly disappears when I'm alone and reality hits me right between the eyes. That Friday at the vet's office almost put me six feet under, I could feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into that abyss between life and death, wanting death to overtake me at that moment.

But the strength I didn't know I had brought me barely back to where I was and I knew I had to get well and take care of my other 8 babies, but I knew it would be a challenge to get my house back in order, to get my emotions intact so I could at least go through the motions of living.

So, part of my trailer is clean and soon all of it will be clean, thus sparing me from going to the nursing home and sparing me from losing my babies to the Humane Society = I was threatened with both with Social Services = so, the trailer will be clean, I will go on, my heart and soul are shattered, but I will go on, crying uncontrollably at midnight when me and my babies are alone in the dark.

The space by my computer where Baby-Doo loved to sit and keep me company, is empty now, like the space in my life that Baby-Doo doesn't fill anymore.

Lord God help me = because the thought of going to sleep and never waking up is a prevalent thought in my mind each night as I lay my head down on my two pillows = so Lord God help me to wake up to see another day to take care of my blessed, beloved babies.

Baby-Doo, we will all see you and the other babies at the Rainbow Bridge one of these days and I know your spirit is still here, because I feel it around me every day. Every time the wind blows through the open window, it is you = Darby looks for you and is lost, I try to comfort him and I keep a watchful eye on him, but he misses you and looks for you every day. Every time the wind blows, it is you saying "Hello" to all of us. 

Rest in Peace, my beloved baby.