Father Found, Identity Now Missing.

A few years ago, my mom found out that her father wasn’t her father.   She and my uncle had taken a DNA test and it turned out he was her half-brother.
The relationship between my mom and grandma was already strained, so this bomb basically destroyed what little bit of communication still existed between them.  On the few occasions they did speak, it always resulted in my mom insisting on knowing who her real father is and my grandmother insisting that either the DNA results are wrong or the hospital gave her the wrong baby.
While this revelation tore my mom up inside, it didn’t affect me at all.   (Cue the stages of grief…)
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I had never known her father… my grandmother had remarried by the time I was born and I had always thought of my mother’s stepfather as my grandfather.  Even when my grandma divorced and remarried again, I considered her new husband my new grandfather.  (I’m pretty adaptable that way I guess.)
I barely let any of it bother me and continued on with my life.  After all, what did any of this have to do with me?
Whenever I visited either of them, I listened as my mom and grandma berated each other and recounted their side of the story over and over again.  Each defended themselves as if I was the judge & jury and they were trying to avoid the electric chair.  Still, it barely registered as a slight annoyance on my “things I’m going to stress about today” meter. meter down
Then the day came when I got this text:

Call me.  I have a dad.
(more…)

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Note to Self: You're failing miserably at…

So I basically suck at blogging.
If you found this blog when I started it last summer, then you may have noticed that I went from posting almost daily to  being almost eerily silent.  You may have also noticed that I’ve occasionally changed a background or something, but haven’t bothered to even post a quick “hey y’all, how’s it goin’?” since November .
Of course, it’s more likely that you barely noticed I’ve been gone at all – much like the tabs on my page that I just discovered disappeared at some point during my tinkering.
Oh, before I forget…

Hey y’all!  How’s it goin’?  
And now back to our regularly scheduled blog post…

No excuses, no reason, I’m just failing at being a blogger.
It’s not for lack of trying, or for lack of something to say.  (I’ve always got something to say!)   It’s just that I can’t stay focused on writing a post.  I start, then stop to browse other themes, then start on a completely different post, then move on to whatever in my real life requires me.
The number of unfinished drafts I have saved on my laptop is actually a little embarrassing.

But it’s not just blogging.  I’m really starting to think I may be failing at life in general.  (Yep, that’s right — you get a grade for this life thing.)
So let’s start with the last thing I posted about…  NaNoWriMo.
I won!  YAY!  I didn’t fail at writing a novel in 30 days!  I’m so amazing…
After finishing the first draft of my novel in November, I tucked it safely away in it’s little Scrivener folder and moved on to my next unfinished project.
Much like this blog, I’ve visited my NaNo novel many times and even done some editing here and there…  but that’s as far as it’s gone.  At this rate, it might be ready for a first reader somewhere around the year 2040.
So “F” number #1 goes to…  failing miserably as a novelist.
Let’s move on to “F” number #2, shall we… (more…)

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How Can I Keep My Sanity and Enjoy My Life? By A Power Outside of My Own.

Warning:  Today’s post is not going to be funny or upbeat.  I’m about to be serious (for once).

Mauerbauertraurigkeit – n. the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like.
I saw this word on my Twitter feed today.
My husband and I were sitting at the table this morning talking about this problem I have.  He went downstairs, I checked Twitter, and there it was.
I had no idea that this word existed…. But I should have. (I also wasn’t sure it was a real word when I read it, so I looked it up here.)
When I was in the 8th grade, a close friend died.  Almost every year thereafter, until I was in my late 20’s, I lost another friend.  At one point, I attended a funeral every month for 5 months… none of which were for anyone over the age of 24. (more…)

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