Realtor vs. Social Worker

I am a realtor who in the past did social work. I recently helped my best friend purchase a home. She will be moving cross country. The positive, she will be close to me. The negative, the move and selling her home.

Moving is no fun. No one likes to move. Packing all that crap you have gathered during the years. No one wants to pack all that crap. So what do you do with the crap? Do you donate it?  Do you keep it? Do you give it to your kids? Anxiety about all your crap keeping you up at night! What the hell! Should we rent a truck? Should we have movers? Should we get a POD? What the hell is a POD and how big is a POD? I think of a POD and I think of some alien movie and PODS are what baby aliens are born from.

Also, when you sell the house you are moving from and the buyers agent wants to come over with the buyers every day to see their new house! Why? They’re going to own the mother f******* thing in 30 days! I personally think a KEEP OUT unless you are an appraiser or inspector, sign should be hung on the front door as soon as you sign the contract. Just say, NO! No you can’t show your mother in law your new bedroom. Or bring the kids over to play in the new yard. Why? Because we are not cleared to close! It isn’t your home yet!

If you have ever sold a home you know the chaos that is involved. There are papers to be signed. There are inspections, appraisals, showings, open houses, repairs, contingencies, escrow, insurance and a multitude of other things that need to be completed.

I am a realtor in Missouri. Let me say that we seem to have a really good grasp on keeping things on the up and up and making sure our clients are well taken care of. We do not leave it up to the seller to make the showing appointments. We don’t harass the seller once our buyer has an accepted agreement.  Making sure the seller and the buyer are happy with the end result is the most important part of the process.

So when my friend asked me to help her find a home out here in Missouri I was so excited! Not only was I going to be able to show her the hospitality of the Midwest, she was going to be closer to me. In this process I referred her to a realtor in California to sell her home. I had assumed that we all worked the same way. We all wanted the best for our clients. Well, let me just say, it is cut throat in California, realtors playing buyers against each other, buying agents calling the sellers to harass them until they feel so crazy they just give in. Buying agents have no reason to call the seller of the home, that’s what the listing agent is for! The seller pays the listing agent for a reason. All of this makes me happy to be an agent in Missouri. So far I haven’t run in to any of this type of nonsense.

I feel sad for my friend. She is living in hell right now. The buying agent has no respect of others time, space or emotions. It’s a total mess, but I can say that it will end. She will be here in Missouri and I will be certain that the buying process here is much less stressful and they won’t have to worry about anyone harassing them on the phone or making them feel guilty. This is how I treat all of my clients. Giving my best to them means that they will remember the great treatment they get and if they need help in the future with real estate they won’t hesitate to call me.

Buying and selling a home is emotional. People are attached to their home, a place where you raised your babies and made memories with your extended family. This is why real estate agents should have empathy yet be able to differentiate what is necessary to get the job done.

For all you overbearing, rude, mean, unthoughtful Realtors out there, remember these are people not transactions. They feel, they need and they appreciate. Give what is good for them and you’ll get it in return.

As you can see, I am a combination of Realtor/Social Worker. I want the process to be smooth and not overly stressful for my clients. I feel, I see and I know what they need.

Moving sucks, but the end result will be worth it.  Breathe in slowly and out slowly and feel the anxiety leave your body, oh and remember crap is just crap, let it go ūüôā


It’s My Birthday

It’s my birthday.¬† A day which I have decided isn’t as important to me as it is to others around me. I appreciate the well wishes and smiles. I like the idea of comradery and wine drinking. But what is a birthday really about?

It’s the day your mom births you. A day where she endured the most physical pain she will ever endure, followed by the most emotional happiness she will ever feel. It’s the day when people gather round a little baby, happy for the new mom and dad’s upcoming adventure.

Every day after your birth, your mom and dad teach you right from wrong, they love you though the skinned knee’s, take care of you when you are sick. You mom buys you new pajamas when you have your appendix out, then your gallbladder, then your uterus. She is there for you when you get married and have your own babies.

On this day, I miss that woman, the one who called me at 10:26 AM every year to wish me happy birthday. The woman who kissed me every time I left the house even as an adult.

Really this is her day, because without her I wouldn’t be who I am today. Happy Birth Day Mom! I miss you!

On your birthday remember to wish your mom a Happy Birth Day and thank her!




Friends. We all have them. Some are funny. Some are serious. Some think they know it all. Some think they know nothing.

Have you ever kept in your feelings when you talk with your friends? You try to avoid any type of confrontation with friends?¬† I personally don’t like confrontation. I also don’t want to lose friends. Is it¬†necessary for me to keep it inside to avoid making a friend mad? Do you ever feel like you’re the friend on the outside of the circle?

I’ve never had a lot of friends. As a child growing up I had 3 or 4 close friends. And as an adult, of those 3 or 4 friends, I’m still close¬†friends with 2 of those people.¬† When I was younger, kids didn’t want to be my friend because of my name. Kids are great for making fun of their peers for whatever reason they choose. My name is Gay, so you can imagine the things kids were saying in the late 70’s early 80’s. In high school I went by my middle name Lynn and life was a bit easier. After high school I went back to Gay Lynn and now I go by Gay once again. I was bullied my entire childhood, because of my name.

As an adult, I still hold those feelings that people are not honest and like to talk behind others backs, but while standing in front of that person they act as if they are their best buddy. It’s hard for me to speak my mind to my friends in regard to differences. Now don’t get me wrong I will speak my mind to my employer or my server at a restaurant, but for some reason I don’t want to make my friends angry with me. So I hold it in. I pull away. I stay quiet. I don’t mention when my feelings are hurt by something they have said or done. I have learned to ignore my own feelings.

Today I woke up feeling sad about my friendships.¬†I looked in the mirror and thought, “You’re better than that. You deserve to have friends who treat you equal.¬† Who make you part of the crowd, instead of making you feel like an outcast.”

What is a friend? Someone who calls you when your down. Someone who checks on you when your suicidal. Someone who brings you groceries when you are in the middle of cancer treatment. A friend makes you meals when your so sick from chemo¬†you can’t get off the couch. Someone who laughs with you till you pee your pants. A friend is someone who knows what you like and what you dislike. A friend¬†knows what type of wine you like.¬†A friend pulls you up. A friend doesn’t make fun of you for being a pig parent or a vegetarian. A friend remembers your birthday. A friend listens.

As my life goes on I am realizing that great friends are hard to come by. I miss some of my friends from California. I miss talking with them, drinking wine with them and laughing with them.

Remember¬†in order to have great friends you need to be a great friend. This is something I’m always working on. Being a great friend does mean being honest with your friends, which I suppose means telling them your feelings instead of holding back.

If you feel like an outcast in your circle of friends, perhaps they are not the right friends. When you find good friends, keep them close. Friends come and friends go and you learn something from each and every friendship. Learn from those lessons. Tell your friends you love them, keep them close and be a great friend.


Have you ever wondered what will make you at peace and happy? Have you tried to do anything and everything to create happiness in your life? Me too.

Finding happiness is more about being true to yourself, as opposed to finding what makes you happy. If you are like me you have changed your goals, your motives, your dreams and your career to try and find happiness and calm. I’ve discovered this is not the best way to find happiness.

In my quest for happiness I have found anxiety, sadness, depression, confusion and so many other feelings that I can’t list them all. In all of these feelings there was one common theme that I found and that is, “the harder I looked, the more deceived I became.”

I was deceived as to who I am. WHO AM I?! Yes, I was deceived as to what I thought made me happy. I thought helping people made me happy. I thought adopting animals made me happy. I thought raising kids made me happy. So many things that I thought made me happy, a clean house, clean laundry, mowed yard, you name it I thought, “oh if I do that I’ll be happy.”

NO. Those things make me who I am, compassionate, kind, loving, tidy and anxious. Yes, if those things that make me me don’t get accomplished then I am anxious. So I fight to get them done and in the process become stressed.

Those are just regular things in life. They are not¬†the things that¬†make me happy. Life long happy is what I am talking about. I have been searching for who I am. I haven’t found her yet. I have found some things that I now believe help a person become one with themselves. Become happy. Become calm.

First, never work at a job that makes you sad, depressed, angry, or anxious. It isn’t worth your happiness to stay someplace you are not treated fairly, you are talked down upon, a place where you feel, “if only they would listen, then I could make a difference.” If you go home every night and cry, vent, and¬†drink a bottle of wine then it isn’t worth it.¬†Your mental and physical health should not be put on the line for a job. Yes, I am saying quit that job! If it takes a toll, say bye Felicia. There are other jobs out there and you deserve to feel¬†appreciated¬†in your job.

Second, if people tell you that you are good at something, believe them. Do what you are good at. It’s hard for me to believe I am good at anything, but I love to write and talk to people. I would love to be a motivational speaker. If someone gives you a chance to be who you want to be then try it, do it and be proud that people think you are good at it!

Third, always dig deep. By this I mean, look deep inside of you and determine what has built you up. What in your life has made you strong? What in your life has made you laugh? What makes you wake up everyday? Don’t forget to look at and see what has torn you down. That also helped you become you, but don’t let it tear you down again. Every time you are torn down by something, when you build yourself back up you are stronger than the last time. But never let the same thing tear you down twice!

And finally, be true to your feelings. Those feelings of sadness mean something. You don’t feel sad for no reason. You are sad because something isn’t right. You are laughing and happy because something is right. It seems easy right? I know, it isn’t easy, but there are some things you can do to be true to you. You have morals, you have feelings and you are you. Be you, don’t let society drive you in a direction you don’t necessarily want to go. Be the gardenia in all of the roses. Be the one and only you, the man or woman you have grown to be. Feel it, live it, and love you!




Many days I say that I don’t like people. People don’t care, people are self centered, people are rude, yet I find myself being overly empathic. What is empathy? It is basically the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. It is when you see someone crying and you yourself begin to cry. You are not crying for yourself, you are crying for that person. As much as I like to say people drive me crazy, I can’t help but feel empathy when they are in pain, hurt, sad, depressed and even happy.

Empathy has driven my career choices. I have done social work with people who are mentally ill, people who have disabilities, and people who have dual diagnosis of addiction and mental illness. I worked as a disability analyst for Social Security Disability. This job was difficult, because when you work on a case where a woman has breast cancer, but you have to deny her because she “should” be better within the 12 month time frame, it’s heartbreaking. Writing that denial letter was probably one of the hardest things I had to do in this job. This job drained me, just as the job where I worked with people with mental illness and people with disabilities drove me to depression and suicidal thoughts.

I feel as if these jobs drained me because I am overly empathetic or an empath as people call it and I want to help everyone. I want to see them do well. I don’t want to see them suffer. Even though I myself suffered during these positions, due to my hyper stimulation of these feelings.

‚ÄúEmpaths are naturally giving, spiritually attuned, and good listeners. If you want heart, empaths have got it. Through thick and thin, they‚Äôre there for you, world-class nurturers.‚ÄĚ  Emotional Freedom: Liberate Yourself from Negative Emotions and Transform Your Life



When I am in a calm, quiet, situation this is my ideal place. I also feel overtly negative when antagonistic situations are happening. I have become suicidal due to a job I recently had, because of the negative “vibes” in the work place. I loved working with my consumers, I hated the way management thought of our consumers and treated their employees. They didn’t want to help our consumers with disabilities, consumers with very low income, they only saw the bottom line. As a non profit agency this was very difficult for me. I had to go out on disability. I believe that my overly sensitive self couldn’t handle how others were being treated. I couldn’t watch it anymore. It caused anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideations.

I have always been the person who people come to when they are having difficult times. I have always been an active listener. I feel the mood. I can tell immediately when someone is down, sad or hurt. I always say my heart hurts for them and I really mean it. I enjoy being the person who people trust enough to share their hurt and pain, happiness and secrets. It can however become very stressful and overwhelming to me, because I don’t want my friends to hurt and I feel their hurt. I cry for them at night.

I try to not care so much, I always say, “I just don’t care anymore.” but I am the one who cries when a squirrel is dead on the road. I brake for anything when driving, my son laughs at me, but it is true. I don’t want to see humans or animals hurt in anyway. And no, I do not eat meat. I am the one who feels and see’s from the other perspective. It is not always good. People tell me not to be so sensitive, as if I can stop being sensitive. It isn’t possible. It’s the same when people tell me to stop being so anxious, just do what makes you anxious and you’ll get over it. It just doesn’t work that way. This is how I am wired.

I have intuition that seems to be spot on 99% of the time. It is a little scary. I have been right with nearly every one of my kids boyfriends or girlfriends. My kids can’t lie to me. I can feel the tension when my husband has had a bad day. I know when I need to call someone or text someone because they may be feeling down.

I don’t watch the news. I recently deleted and unfollowed all the news channels on Facebook. It makes me overly sad. It hurts me to know that there is nothing I can do to help our communities become safer, happier communities.  If I don’t watch it, I don’t feel it, right? No not true. I still feel the hurt and pain of those in our communities who are hungry, who have lost a loved one to the violence in our streets. But not watching the news does decrease the anxiety that comes with those feelings.

I see with others eyes. If this is difficult to understand for some of you, then you aren’t an empath. You don’t feel from the other perspective. I sometimes think if people did feel from others perspective, then there may not be so much violence and hate in our world.

Being overly empathetic means I need space to rejuvenate myself. I need quiet to calm my mind. I need to be alone to revitalize myself. It’s hard for people to understand. My mind becomes tired. It is always feeling, always thinking and it needs a break. I become fatigued.

Being overly empathetic can also be great personal attribute. I feel intensely. I genuinely care. I love to laugh and feel good. Calm is wonderful.

Please remember if I seem distant, it’s because I need to rejuvenate. I need to clear my mind and find balance in my life.


Whining For Wine

The grocery store, the freeway, Ikea, and the likes of any of these places cause anxiety. I can be feeling fairly well before I head to the grocery store, but then I get in my car and there are immediate issues with people driving. Seriously there shouldn’t even be a speed limit, because no one follows this law. I just need to get to the grocery store to get a bottle of wine and I can’t even do this without people making me anxious and angry.

In the grocery store I’m already feeling heightened anxiety and I’m angry from the drivers on the road and in the parking lot! I know exactly where I need to go, but it’s 1:00 PM and every senior citizen in the county is doing their grocery shopping. As I zig-zag though the crowd of seniors a grocery store employee pulls in front of me with a hand cart full of eggs! Why? I just need to get to the wine and then the cheese and then the crackers. I personally believe that all three of these items should be on the same aisle and perhaps include grapes.

Finally I arrive in the wine section. It’s a pretty¬†big section¬†at my grocery store. I appreciate Hyvee for having such a wide array of choices for me to choose from. They know how to stock their wine section. From Moscato to Merlot, they have it all plus some. I usually go for a nice semi sweet wine, perhaps Riesling or Pinot Grigio, but some days I just go for what ever is 14% or higher alcohol. Depends on my level of anxiety, I just need to lower my inhibitions at this point.

I head over to the cheese, because everyone knows you need to have something to eat with your wine and you don’t want a huge meal, so cheese it is! Again with the seniors pushing their cart slowly, stopping to chat with their neighbor who they just saw¬†an hour¬†ago and had coffee with this¬†morning.¬† Finally¬†I get to the cheese aisle and yes¬†there he is, the hand cart guy with the eggs. Why do they have to stock in the middle of the day? They are open 24 hours a day! I just need cheese!¬†I feel tears welling in my eyes, I’m overwhelmed and just grab the cheese without looking and go.

I decide I am not going to brave the cracker aisle, I just can’t handle it at this point. I still have to pay.¬† I make it up front, I give the woman checker my wine and cheese to ring up and she asks if I want plastic, “No thank you I would like paper please.” So she puts my wine and cheese in a paper wine bag. So I look like a wino on the corner with a bottle in a bag walking out of the store.

Finally on my way home. I just can’t wait to get home. I feel like I should never leave the house. I hit every red light. And then it happens, lightning, rain, hail. As much as I want to open that bottle of wine right now, I don’t have a cork screw! No really I wouldn’t do that, but if I was stuck on the road due to inclement weather it may be necessary. A panic attack is starting to show it’s nasty self and I have to pull over.¬† I try box breathing, I roll the windows down in the crazy down pouring rain and I finally have to take an Ativan. After about 15 minutes the panic attack has calmed I feel well enough to drive home.

This trip was pointless! I had to take the Ativan, which you can’t take with wine, so now I can’t drink my wine! The life in which anxiety and panic rule. I think the answer to this is a wine delivery service in my geographic area.


The Mom Monster

Life isn’t easy. There are bills to pay, people to please, kids to raise, meals to make…Wait did I actually say people to please? Because in reality the only person you should be pleasing is yourself. Without a happy healthy you, others don’t get the care they need. Caring for you is imperative. Calling all moms!!

Remember those days when you were a kid and all you did was play, have fun and do what your parents asked? Well those days ended for me a long time ago. In the years to follow all I wanted to do was make sure everyone was happy. No one was angry with me. I made dinner, I changed diapers, I cleaned the house, I worked, I went to school and all of this was not necessarily for me. It was for all the others that just let me do it. No one ever asked me if I wanted help. Everyone must have assumed that I was happy being the “all in one mom, wife and friend”.

It took years to realize that all of the things I did for everyone else wasn’t being returned in kindness or love. It was taken for granted. Kids screaming about what they want and when they want it. I thought I did a pretty good job at parenting, but I would have been a better parent if I had forced my children to do their chores. I wouldn’t have had to fight the messy grown men I have today. Although they do not live with me any longer, they come over and leave a mess for me to clean up. I find myself angry and anxious. I find myself crying because I feel I could have done better.

Let me throw this out there, my kids aren’t terrible by any means, but there are things they do that drive me absolutely insane! Those are the things that make me think I was a bad parent.

My oldest son was addicted to drugs, he is an addict. His father and I didn’t do drugs, but somehow my son became addicted. It started when he was 18. He recently decided at 26¬†that he had enough and needed to get his life in order. He went to rehab, this was the 3rd time for rehab. But this time it was different. I played the tough love card. I told him he couldn’t come stay with us after rehab. He needed to figure it out. He needed to take care of himself. Guess what, he called Artist’s Helping the Homeless and was able to get into a sober living house. He now has a good job, he is still at the sober living house. He is working the AA program. He has a sponsor and I couldn’t be more proud. I couldn’t continue to enable him to keep going round and round in the same circle, he needed a round about and needed some choices as to which direction he was going to take.

It’s things like this that didn’t help my anxiety or depression. The last five years I felt myself going deeper and deeper into this abyss. It was dark and slippery and I couldn’t pull myself out. I don’t think that kids, even grown kids understand the stress they cause their parents. It takes me becoming a crazed maniac for them to listen. I have to look like a mad woman coming at them with a broom to get a response. Why in the world would you want a mad woman with a broom charging you? Why wouldn’t you just do the dishes after the 9th time she asked? Or maybe even better the first time she asked! In all seriousness, laughing makes me feel better. Finding the funny in the bad days, I know sounds terrible right? No.

I have to say, husbands are just as bad. Why does it take 6 months to get a door put on the bedroom? Yes, last year we rehabbed a little shack in 3 months. It was crazy! Why do I do this to myself? I asked him after we moved in to get the bedroom door installed. Literally, he¬†was mad because there is no hanky, panky going on! We have kids coming into and out of our house on a regular. I NEED A BEDROOM DOOR! You want some, do the work to get some! I’ve been living with all these men with no common sense. What did I do wrong with my kids? Where is the common sense? I believe that these male beings were born without the common sense circuit. This circuit is obviously missing on my husbands side of the family and now my boys are missing the circuit. When the circuit is missing there is nothing you as a mom can do except pour a glass of wine and watch the chaos ensue.

So when all else fails, circuits included, it isn’t your fault, you’re just a mom. Mom’s with expectations are the best moms out there. Keep up the good work moms and remember you weren’t crazy before the kids and husband, they created the mom monster!

Take care moms, run that bath, light those candles, pour that wine (bring the bottle into the bathroom) and lock that door!


I’ve had my moments

I’ve had my moments in life.¬†It’s been a crazed road paved out of tiny pebbles that slowly wash away with the rain leaving a muddy mess to only be repaved again and again.

Just when you think your dad is your dad, turns out he’s not your biological dad at all. After 14 years of people saying, “Wow, you look like your dad.” I found out that he wasn’t my biological dad. My early life started out with 14 years of lies from my entire family.

The way I found out that he wasn’t my dad was just a fluke. My best friend and I were snooping in my moms closet only to find my hospital birth certificate. From what I recall after seeing the paper, I thought,¬†“Who is James Lindsey McGowan?” I was very confused. I didn’t ask my mom about it for some time. I don’t know exactly how it came out to my mom, but it did and she wasn’t happy. She was mad at me for snooping. It wasn’t until two years later, when my mom and¬†dad divorced and¬†my¬†maternal grandfather passed away¬†that my mom offered to help me find my biological dad and then I was informed of the story of the beginning of my life.

Let’s just say in those days, if you got pregnant, you got married. Even if the other parent was “from the wrong side of the tracks”. After about a year of being married and a short time after I was born, my dad was basically banished from my life. My maternal grandparents decided that he wasn’t good enough and they wouldn’t let him see me anymore.

When I was two my mom had remarried and this is the man I called dad. He adopted me when I was two. He was pretty good to me, he treated me like his own.

Not long after my mom started looking for my biological dad she found him and a meeting was planned. We met at the Peppermill Restaurant in Sacramento, California. It was nerve wracking, this is when I started to feel that crazed anxiety, the inability to focus on what was really happening. As we sat there, he told me about his wife and my half sister. He also pulled a picture out of his wallet. The picture was tattered and frayed and had been in his wallet many years. This was a picture of me in a light pink dress when I was about 8 months old. He told me that he carried this picture with him all these years and never stopped thinking about me. It was a heartfelt moment, one that I will never forget.

In those moments I felt so many emotions, but the one emotion that stayed with me was that anxiety, which turned to panic. It was as if it had been triggered by this moment. It makes me wonder if that moment had never happened would I today have anxiety and panic disorder. Or was it the next moment in my life that caused the anxiety and panic disorder to stay with me?

I’ve had my moments and this moment was one that sticks with me the most. This moment is the one that has kept me from committing suicide. The moment after my parents divorced and I met my biological dad, the moment I came home to find my dad, the one who raised me, on the ground, in the garage, unresponsive¬†with a noose around his neck. The rafter had broken from his weight. He wasn’t dead, he was breathing, but I was scared to death. In that moment I couldn’t think, I was panicked, I was 16 going on 17 and my life had been turned upside down. In that year my parents divorced, my grandfather died, I met my biological dad and my real dad tried to commit suicide. Life changed from this moment. Nothing was the same ever again.

As depressed and suicidal as I have been at times, this is the moment that keeps me from suicide. I can’t put my kids through this. It is scary, it is sad and no matter how depressed I get and how stressed I feel from life or how many times I’ve sat on the bathroom floor crying¬†with every prescription I have ready to take them all, I just can’t¬†put them though that. Life can be very sad, life can be scary, life can be tumultuous, but life changes daily and if I end it now, my kids life would never be the same.

I have many more days to live, to laugh, to cry and to be a mom and wife. And laugh is what I hope to be doing the most.

This is the first in a series of three blogs about anxiety, depression, and coping mechanisms. Please if you feel suicidal call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255. Feel free to email me if you need to talk. Call a friend. But please get some help, there are people who love you and need you.


Anxiety and The Damn Animals

I’m a mom of pigs, dogs, cats and grown kids. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I decided that as an anxious, panic stricken person I should have all this responsibility. What goes on in the head? Everyday I say at least 10 times, “You have got to be kidding me!” This is usually towards an animal. Like when I find that the pigs have once again eaten my pile of dust and dirt I swept up. Spreading it back through the house, damn animals.

Imagine chasing piglets through the yard trying to corral them into their bed! Pigs are fast, faster than you would imagine. The squealing turns to screaming and all of a sudden I’m a basket case. Then I wonder again, “WHAT THE HELL?!” Am I stupid? Why did I get two piglets?

Imagine coming home to what sounds like a mass murder in your house. The vet is there and he and my daughter are holding down a 250 pound pig while trimming his hooves. He is screaming as if he is being murdered! Again I think my nerves are fried. My anxiety is high and I just can’t help but laugh hysterically.  Because that’s what I do when I’m about to have a nervous breakdown. It only took 2 and half hours to complete the hoof trimming. I’m surprised that the cops weren’t called. Come to find out the vet had given Frank the pig enough sedative for a 400 pound pig and it didn’t work. Frank is a beast!

How about that time when the I came home to find the entire plastic storage box of dog food spilled on the floor. Frank was found passed out in his bed like a drunken sailor with a bloated belly, throw up on the floor and dogs eating the throw up. Argh! Seriously, I thought I should just let them eat the rest of the throw up so I wouldn’t have to clean it up. Pigs shouldn’t eat dog food!

Another battle is the battle of the bark. Dogs bark, pigs bark, I yell shut up which doesn’t help. Peggy the white wolf dog has the largest ears and hears anything. I am a very jumpy person and it never fails that every time she barks I jump, my blood pressure rises and my heart palpitates. Again, why do I put myself through this?

It’s astounding that I haven’t completely flipped my lid. Everyday something new and crazy happens with these pigs and dogs. And let’s not forget I have cats. Cats that bring me dead birds, lizards, dead mice and today a dead baby squirrel. The moment I found that baby squirrel I thought, “That damn cat! That poor mama squirrel.” And life goes on.

Again, can someone explain why I feel the need to save every damn animal, yet fail to save myself from this crazy life?

Unsound Mind, Think

Think, think all I do is think
I think about the sink
I think about a drink
I think about all the over issues of being on the brink

Anxiety driven, panic ridden
You’d think it was the Battle of Britain between these two ears
It really isn’t a great state of affairs
Everyday I battle with these thoughts
Whether it’s cosmonauts or apricots my mind doesn’t stop

Feeling like a failure with this behavior
Jumping from one ship to the next, feeling very perplexed
Not knowing where to go from each conquest

Needing to find the perfect project
I think and think, but there’s always a missing link
There can be one object that makes me feel like there may be a prospect
But then reality kicks in and I think and I think