Thinking

Well, here I go again, writing my Life. Thinking out loud....again. Hoping that through this writing I will figure myself out and where to go from here. For, I am at a crossroads. Challenge: to find what I Love. I like a lot of things. But, what am I passionate about? I like doing scrapbooking. I like making cards to give friends and family. I like making mini albums and trying other crafty things I see and read online. I like reading. I like to draw. I like helping others. I like making people laugh. I think I would like to travel and see the country where I live. I love my children and grandchildren very very much. In fact, I have given my all to my kids. Sometimes I gave too much of myself, I think. But, it was the only way I could do it. I have wanted to have kids since I was very young. I used to love pets of all kinds. I would babysit with children every chance I got. Not for the money, for heaven's sake because it did not pay much to babysit. 50 cents per hour in fact....sheesh. I like to cook, when I don't have to do it. I really got burned out when I was cooking for the family. I have to admit I did get creative, if throwing a bunch of food into the same pan and making it taste good counts. (it does) My problem with cooking is that when I cook it, I want to eat it. I love to eat. (food critic?) I like the way the food feels. I live the way it tastes. I like the way it smells. I love doing research on my Family History. Reading and learning about what was going on back then is amazing. I like to read about how other families survived, sometimes it was touch and go. Some people died very young. Many fathers died young. In my own family, a great great grandfather died just before his 4th son was born or shortly afterwards. That is a scarey thought because had he died 9 or 10 months sooner, my grandfather would not have been conceived or born. That is shocking. I learned about how rough the journey was from the east. The hardships they went through. Jumping in with both feet and moving family and critters into a land they did not know, fighting to survive. At this time, I am passionate about learning even more about my family "back in the day". What else do I like. I like garage sales, but that is growing old now that we have done it so often the past few years. We went today and the weather was great, cool and no bugs. I like the outdoors sans bugs and stinging insects. I like to plant flowers and don't even mind the weeding...sometimes. I love the feeling it gives me when the garden looks nice. It is a wonderful sanctuary. I love watching hummingbirds feed at our many feeders. I like going on walks. I like riding bikes beside the lake. I want to be able to ride clear around the lake by the end of the summer. It will happen. We are getting further each time we ride. I like chatting with people online, but am weaning myself away from being addicted to it. I don't even miss it anymore. We were gone almost a week, and I only got online once to check on facebook. I love smooching and snuggling my grandbabies, that is when my joy is the highest. I keep having this feeling of wanting to escape, to go somewhere on a journey. Not just in my writing but in real life too. Thing is, I am so scared of doing it. There is the money aspect, but I think the money will come when the time is right. It is interesting to write out my thoughts. I like painting in my art journal. I am intimidated and get stuck often, thus I have many pages unfinished. I continue to learn new techniques all the time, and I truly do love that. Anyway, it is time for me to think about going to bed, I am so tired from the past week. Loved it, but it wears me out. We have been across the State both ways within the past month. I loved it, but I want more. I want to go on a vacation. I would like to go west, young man. Now I have written down my ideas. Now I will come back here and see what my typing has revealed. Then on from there. Goodnight Moon~! Kate

Sitting by the Dock of the Bay

Ok, not the bay, but the Lake?! Yeah, that is my story and I am sticking to it. I love going to the Lake. It is one place where I always feel Happy, truly Happy. Not pretending to be happy. I did that for so many years, I even convinced myself. I acted happy because that is what I thought it took to really be happy. Looking back on my past, it kinda scares me. It scares me because I came to a couple of realizations the other day. I think I have ADHD and maybe even Manic Depressive, or whatever they call that nowadays. I have been thinking about things that teachers said to my Mom. "Kathy is a dreamer". "She seems to drift away, and I have to get her attention to bring her back." "I know she could do better, she is just lazy." But, I wasn't lazy. I was confused and lost. I drifted away because it was a better place to be. I drifted because most of the time I did not understand. Everyone seemed to "get it", except I didn't. I just faked it. I never said anything to my parents or grandparents because I did not want to embaress myself or the rest of the family. If only someone would have recognized and helped me. Instead they put me on a diet when my weight began to go up. I had a good friend when I was about 9. He listened. He cared. He was my mentor. He made me feel like I was important. He made me feel accepted and loved. He was in his 80s. Something happened or didn't happen and my Mom went a bit crazy and did not let me see that man ever again. His name was Mr. Sims. I still miss him. I miss the times we talked. I miss the way he made me feel. I miss that unconditional love. He saw me. He listened to me. He heard me. I think he was my first love. Not the physical kind. Just the friendship kind. Too bad it had to end, I think he would have helped me in my future life. Hugs to his spirit. He was a true friend. Bye Mr. Sims. *Sigh*, I don't even remember his first name. Goodbye Mr. Sims, my first friend.

Me

I will be delving into myself. Thinking out loud, so to speak. Wondering when and why things went down the wrong path when I was a child. Why and what happened or was said that triggered my beginning to use food to fix my hurts, my failures, my not feeling enough love. I am not sure what the answer is, or if there even is one. I know I am not alone in this venture. I only know that I will find out how to fix my pain. I have to. Before it is too late. I have many health issues. Until a few years ago, I truthfully did not care. I figured I would get healthy some day. Or, that when I began to have problems with my health, THEN I would get serious about losing those excess pounds. I have been on some form of diet my entire life. I was about 10 when I first began to hear that I needed to lose weight. I was out of the norm. All I knew was that when I ate that cake and or ice cream, I truly did feel so much better. At least for a little while. Oh, if only they had gone on walks with me instead of trying to limit how much I ate. I felt like I was not worthy. I know that no one meant for me to feel that way. They were only trying to help me. Then I loved the way that those sweets made me feel. AAAhhhhh. For a while I was on cloud nine. Then pow the floor would fall out and I would feel bad. I felt bad when kids began to tease me and call me names. I did not understand what was going on with my body. It was always up and down emotionally. Anyway, I am getting off the track. I have decided to write my feelings here instead of going to the cupboards or the fridge.

Hello there.

I am Kate. This is my Blog. I have not decided yet what this blog will be about. It will vary from day to day. My diary? My Story? My Life? My Family. My thoughts. ME. Yes, probably all of the above. I don't know how to write something knowing others will read it. Well here I go. I choose to begin here. Today. I will undoubtedly ramble until I get my style going. I will type as if writing to a friend, thinking aloud. Letting my brain and my fingers get together and say whatever they come up with. Yep, that's it. Don't expect perfect writing from me. That is not what this space is about at all. This is just going to be me. Raw, uncensored, me. Kate. Kate is a nickname given to me by my dad's Mom, my Grandma Iva. She always called me Katey Jo. It was a way she told me she loved me. She is the only person who ever called me Kate. Most of the time she called me Kate when she and I were alone together doing things around her home. It was her way of connecting especially only with me. I guess you could say it was a "pet" name. I liked it. I think my Grandma felt sorry for me because I was the only girl with an older and younger brother always around to tease and taunt me. They were good at, believe me. I learned at a very young age to yell for help "before" they got to me. I could whine with the best of them too, lol.