I appreciate it

Again, I want to say how I appreciate the comments I do get on my blog. I really feel less out of touch with the world when I am faced with comments from those suffering the same/similar as I am. It really does mean a ton to me to have that kind of support even if it is just a few people out there in the world who I may never meet. Though, I have to admit I would love to meet each and every one of you who reads this, or comments on all this. Just because I would feel great meeting face to face people who struggle the same.

My crab is the perfect pet for me, plus some positivity.

1. It requires absolutely no dealing with poop. Just dirty water when the water needs changed, which is not that often and does not stink up the house.
2. It does not destroy ANYTHING of mine.
3. It does not make loud noises and keep me up at night.
4. It is not demanding
5. It does not fight anyone. 
6. It does not cause pain
7. It's improving condition since buying it proves that I can care for something fairly well.
8. It's there, in that spot, no matter what. I can walk there, and it's there! In it's little tank, just living it's little life.

Isn't that just perfect? It doesn't stick it's butthole in my face. It doesn't ruin my couch. The first couch I ever bought myself. Like EX's dumb cat has, ugh, my poor couch! It doesn't make noises at night. It doesn't attack the kids. It doesn't poop and stink up the house. It requires very very little maintenance, and watching it grow and thrive brings me happiness as I talk to it in that little baby voice. "Ohhh who's my sweet little crabby-one?" 

Remembrance of an innocence lost.

When Dr. L and I first met, she did this little thing on her white board to figure out where things started to fall apart in my life. We dug deep back, how far back could I remember?

3ish. I remember being 3. I remember the night my little brother was born. I remember some night, possibly nights before that. I remember boys about 10ish - 12ish staying at our house, and I remember the way they'd touch me, and they way they'd kiss me. Not things little boys are supposed to do to little girls, right? Yes, at 3 and 4 years old I can remember 'French Kissing' and being touched 'down below.' But I didn't tell my parents, I'm not sure why, I can't remember if I was told not to or not.. I just remembered not doing it..