Mays Ln

Memories are all I have.

Tennessee is more than just a place on a map.  It is where Shady Valley is located and where my dad's dad's side of the family lived.

I have never lived in Shady but it still holds experiences and memories that I hold very close to me.

The south has distinct nicknames.  My Great Grandma was known to us as Mamaw.  My dad's dad was not the normal Grandpa Mays but rather Grandad.  My dad's mom I chose how she was referred to by us.  She was my Grammy.  When my mom became a Grandmother I said she should inherit Grammy because it was beloved by me and at the time I was the only person I ever knew who had a Grammy.  It was then decided my dad would be referred to as Grampy so it was very fitting. 

I remember in 4th grade, I had to call Tennessee to conduct an interview with my Mamaw.  I second guessed how I should refer to her on the phone.  Not knowing who would answer and wondering if they would know what I meant.  In my anxiety and overthinking when I heard the voice say, "Hello," I panicked and asked for, "Grandma Mays."  My Grammy said, "This is her."  So I blurted out, "Not you Grammy, I meant Mamaw."

When you live out of state from family there are those that mentally default to out of sight out of mind.  I have never been one of these people.  I think of all those I care about often even daily no matter the distance.  This is probably because I wonder if I am ever thought about by anyone.  It is always a hard pill to swallow when I find out I are not thought of whoch happens more often than not.

I had my Grammy tell me that sometimes she forgot I even existed because I didn't live in Tennessee. To hear her say this was heartbreaking. I just smiled, nodded and told her it was okay and I understood.  I didn't actually understand because I never forgot my grandparents existence.  Even in death they are not far from my thoughts.  How a grandmother could say this to her grandchild let alone me the sensitive selfless overly caring one.  To me she could do no wrong as I have always respected my elders as I have been taught to do.

When my family moved from Michigan to Florida I was an infant.  My dad drove me to Tennessee to stay with my grandparents for a week.  I do not know if this is why I feel so connected to Shady but I do.  When leaving that trip my cousin who was 4 at the time gave me his baby blanket.  My first blankie that I slept with every night and could not be without until it was literally so worn the backing of the quilt released from the front.  I was five by then and had to transition to a "new" blankie which was difficult.  I still remember how my first blankie felt crisp cotton and cool.  The pattern with tiny rose buds and figures similar to Holly Hobbit with the profile image and the bonnet.  

Security blankets are something I gravitate to even today.  I have my specific blankets that provide me comfort, security, and I always struggle when one needs to be replaced.

Shady never left me I carried it with me nonstop for years.  When we lived closer we visited more often.  There was a time when we were in North Carolina that my dad helped to build the big porch and we were there every weekend for a month.

Trips like these made the attachment to Shady grow.  I loved the view of Bristol Mountain from the porch.  While there each weekend I seemed to keep loosing a tooth each time.  My Aunt commented saying if the tooth fairy forgets maybe they will remember when I get to my own bed.  The tooth fairy never forgot when I was in Shady which means my Aunt remembered to do it.

When I was in 7th grade my Mamaw died.  That was a very difficult trip.  Not only was it my first funeral of someone I knew, but it was my Mamaw.  She had visited our house for a week when we lived in North Carolina.  She liked to wander the woods and we found these special rocks at the base of tree.  She told me it could be a gnomes home and she could build me a clubhouse out of sticks so I could meet the gnome someday.  It was not until I was walking through Meijer as an adult that I realized those rocks were fish tank rocks.  The aqua blue color I had never put it together before.  

Another Mamaw memory in Shady, my cousin and I saw the end of the rainbow was in my Mamaw's crop share property.  He tossed me over the fence and climbed over himself.  We took off running.  Mamaw was yelling at us about ruining her tobacco crop but we knew we were on the right track to find the pot of gold.  I just visited my cousin who remembered this and says he still  searches for the end of rainbows.  

My Mamaw's funeral I held in my emotion.  I told myself I needed to be strong.  Then we arrived at the cemetery.  When I realized I was leaving her there forever and she would never be sitting in her kitchen when I would run down the mountain to let her know we made it.  I began crying I held it in until I got to the van but the tears started flowing.  My middle cousin looked at me and said, "Why are you upset, you don't live here."  

It was 7th grade but I realized showing emotion wasn't safe.  Why did where I lived matter?  She was my Mamaw.  She wore polyester suits of vibrant colors.  She collected Avon perfume bottles, quilted, and knew how to do so many things.  I had memories just like my cousin why did it matter where I lived she wasn't less my Mamaw because of distance.

The day of her funeral my cousin and I went to the neighbors.  They were using tubes to sled down the mountain.  It took us 30 mins to walked up the mountain to get to the area they were starting from.  My cousin laid down and told me he would keep me safe.  I laid next to him nothing to hold on to, then we were pushed and it was the fastest sledding I have ever experienced.  In the time it took us to walk up they created a ramp at the leveled area where we stopped.  As soon as, we hit that ramp I went flying off the tube in one direction, my cousin in another, and the tube stayed straight absent of its riders.  The snow was so deep I needed help getting up from the area I landed.  It was an epic ride and anyone who thinks the Hogbacks could even be compared to the Appalachian Mountains has no clue. 

We only took the one ride before heading back to see what everyone else was doing at the house.  Everyone was at my Mamaw's except my mother when we returned to my Grammy's house.  We headed down to Mamaw's house to discover my Aunt, her two daughters, and my Grammy going through all of her possession.  It is a horrible memory that I vowed to never do in the event I was having to deal with someone's belongings.  Out of respect for the deceased time should be granted before search for hidden treasures that ultimately did not exist.

My grandparents visited Michigan not so much to see us but to see my Grammy's parents.  So I saw them occasionally until my Great Grandma passed away when I was 19 years old.  That is the last time my Grandparents took the drive to Michigan where they met, raised their children, and had family from both sides.  That trip is the only time my youngest cousin ever visited where I lived.  She was 11 at the time and told my mother, "I will never come to Michigan, again."  Why she was so adamant I do not know but it was apparent I needed to make mental note of the occasion as it would never occur again.

My Grammy visiting her mother meant playing 100 games of Yahtzee at one time.  Going to church and being labeled the "Catholic" granddaughter.  Going to the store to return cans they collected in Tennessee to receive the $0.10 can deposit in Michigan.  It also meant hearing how we needed to visit more and we didn't spend enough time in Tennessee.

My Grammy told me at the funeral home for her mom's viewing, "I do not like you calling me Grammy, do not call me that anymore."  My 19 year old brain did not understand where this was coming from.  I told her I would do my best but to this day I struggle to figure what a proper reference would me.  Grandma is my Grandma Hooper, my younger cousin said Gramma or Granny which is just not natural to me.  I started saying to my dad, "your mom" or my mom I would say "Billie."  Since my mom renewed the meaning of Grammy for my nieces and nephew that no longer is fitting.  I will probably struggle with that forever more.

When I was in college I did not spring break at the beach. Since my dad taught at the same college I figured we could Spring Break in Shady which we did throughout my time in college. We spent the week. Later when I got married I was heartbroken none of the Mays' attended my wedding. We planned a trip to Shady and they all did meet my husband. When dad lived in Boston we met in Shady a few times that year because my Grammy was ill. She ended up passing in 2010 and we headed down to the funeral. My mom, sister and I met up with my dad who was coming in from Boston.

My Grandad's funeral in 2012 was difficult because my dad struggled a lot.  He was informed my Aunt had taken my Grandad to an attorney and my dad was not included in the Last Will.  He was acknowledged so no recourse could be done.  My dad was asked to provide over the years.  Paying bills that needed to be paid.  My Grandad did woodworking and my Grammy did folk art painting.  My dad would buy their projects as a way of contributing to them.  We always paid for meals when we were there.

After my Grammy died my dad had me keep an eye on public record to ensure the property owned by my Grandparents was taken care of.  My Grammy was in charge of the finances so my dad wanted to make sure Grandad was ok.  His anxiety regarding the property increased after Grandad passed.  

His sister has struggled with steady employment and living arrangements her whole adult life.  My dad was huge into genealogy.  He had the Mays lineage traced back to the 1600's.  On a work trip to England he paid for Ancestry.com to access the European files when he was there.  His claim to fame was his family was in America since before the war of 1812.

The property now known as Mays Ln in my lifetime has evolved.  When I was little the post office only delivered to PO Boxes for the whole Valley. Then years later they transition and allowed my Mamaw to choose her Route number so of course she chose her birthday 327.  They changed Route to street names again allowing residents to choose so 327 Mays Lane is the name of property.  

The property is family owned for over 100 years.  The parcel was gifted to my Mamaw and her relatives surround her with similar family names identifying their lots.  The cemetery in Shady is actually my Mamaw's maiden name Blevins Cemetery.  Many of the headstones relate to the links you see on my Ancestry account.  

The property is more than a parcel of land it has over a century of memories and history directly related to my family.  The memories and experiences lived there is what helped to create me and my own experiences is what has shaped who I am today.

My mom and I just drove to Tennessee to see close friends in Bristol.  Of course, we made the drive to Shady. We did in part to check the cemetery and the granite stones we added to the Mays headstone and I wanted to stop by the Shady Valley Country Store for a new shirt.  

Mom stopped at Mays Lane and I said we could just check.  We were at the top of the hill looking down at Mamaw's house and up the mountain is where the barn and Grammy's house are. Growing up the 3 acre lot was all mowed except the large garden.  

The view from the top of the hill now compared to when my grandparents were alive is shocking.  My Mamaw's house is almost completely taken over by trees, bushes, and weeds.  The growth is so tall you can only see the roof of Grammy and Grandad's house and the barn.  It is just visual proof of the neglect, lack of care, and total disrespect for all those who cared for the property prior to my Aunt.  

To turn around you have to drive up to the main house and that is when I saw the n

NOTICE sticker on the mailbox.  I instantly knew that property was in process of being seized for back taxes is my worst nightmare.  Knowing my dad would do whatever necessary to prevent that from happening I contacted the county.  

That is when I see the name associated to the property is my Grandad.  Meaning 14 years after his death his name is attached to court records for lack of payment.  My Aunt and younger cousin whom my Aunt lives with not only are physically neglecting the property but financially are neglecting it as well.  All while not changing ownership to them tarnishing my Grandad's name.  

I contacted my Aunt and cousin requesting a copy of the Will to see if there was anything I could do to get taxes current and the property out of my Grandad's name.  I was met with flip comments and being told, "I have it taken care of."  They supposedly paid the 2024 taxes yet 2025 and soon to be 2026 are outstanding.  My response was if it were taken care of Grandad's name wouldn't be in court records.  I pointed out the disrespect and neglect.

My cousins response was, "I don't know why you are concerned about it.  It's kinda weird."  This comment instantly made me feel the way my middle cousin made me feel saying I shouldn't be sad about Mawaw's death. As well as, my Grammy's comment about forgetting I even existed.

I care why is that a problem.  I am a Mays.  I have memories attached to a place that has history and meaning directly related to my family.  My dad was the only son of the only surviving son of an only son.  My dad had girls so while genetically his branch continues with my nephew and niece his name Mays ends.  Since I went back to my maiden name after divorce the name ends with me. 

My older cousin was given the last name so on paper the name continues.  My Mamaw used to tell me if we lived in a castle one day I would be the Queen.  She taught me the English lineage and how succession worked.  I never let this go to my head.  I respect my elders.  When I saw the images of my Grandad's will the only thing that jumped out at me was the date.  My Aunt brought my Grandad to update his Will within two weeks of my Grammy's death.

The credit union I was in charge of deceased accounts.  I have seen the ugly side of money too many times.  The property condition shows the disrespect for elders where our family came from and everything they did to keep the property.  From collecting all depression glass, growing tobacco to earn a living, raising family, and more.  The property represents all of that to me not a dollar amount or cash.  To know that is how it is viewed for others is just so disheartening and disappointing.  

All I can do is cherish my time in Shady and Mays Ln.  I hope some day the property will be cared for by people who appreciate its beauty and all it can offer.  I would love it to be someone I am related to but if that is not the outcome I will be heartbroken.  The moment I go to Shady to visit the cemetery or stop at the Country Store for a new shirt and realize I cannot pull into Mays Lane to drive to the house because I am not related to the owners will be a very sad day.

I have always said, "Shady is shady and I know shady because my family is from Shady Valley."

Amaysing Thoughts 

Acknowledgement

I say, "I am sorry," when it isn't even me who should say it.  This is because so many people act or react and then fail to ever acknowledge what their actions do to those around them.

I apologize for my actions and reactions.  When I see others who should apologize I say it just incase it was is needed to be heard to move forward for the other person.  I am continually denied accountablity from others.  My brain considers these actions as unresolved because there is no true understanding in order to move forward.  It is open ended items on my to do list that just keep going unchecked.  If me acknowledging for others helps them mentally check that box as done I do it.

When faced with a wall of obstanence I get loud.  There is a barrier and I have never figured out how to break through it quietly.  I am seen as the probably because I react loud. This is a work in progress and it seems the wall of obstanence is always silent but moments before the wall is placed there is noise or actions.

It is difficult to rewire a brain when in the moment to stop your learned or natural instinct and redirect it.  Knowing is one thing.  Communicating is another.  I have said to everyone this is my issue so that if they see I am doing it and they can help to redirect me.  I have done this.  I have spoken this and written this and communicating this.  The message has yet to be recieved by many.  It also is ammunition for some to provoke me and then again it is my failure because I am the only one people focus on.

My words are deflected, ignored, and dismissed all together.  I listen, observe, communicate and because my message is unwanted is it my fault?  If my message is too long is it just something to disregard?  When I attempt to "get to the point,"  I am told I didn't provide enough.  Everyone is armed with double edged swords so no matter my move I am hurt.  To stifle my words just causes emotional build up and to express them is considered my problem no one elses.

My blog discussing these things to attempt to get my message across had too many words so it wasn't read through.  When speaking out loud my frustrations I am constantly interrupted with what I should do to appease the other party.  I walk away with a to do list yet the person causing my hurt never gets my message and therefore proceeds to continue their pattern of behavior.

I do not get apologized to for what others do that hurts me.  I must live without those words. If the words are expressed it is most always accompanied with a "but" pointing it back in my direction as the cause.  I do not get acknowledgement about how others actions affect me.  I get silence and then their assumption it is resolved.

When I see the pattern of behavior and attempt to resolve I am disregarded.  Yet, if I do something that causes any level of hurt I must plead for forgiveness jump through hoops and swallow all pride.

I have no more pride to swallow.  I am tired of being held to the expectation that I must comply with everyone else or else I am replaceable.  I have lived in constant survival mode to protect relationships I hold dear.  You say jump I have to say, "How high." I say jump you say, "No."  

If I do not respond this way then my relationship is non-existent.  I live in a world of silence without anyone checking in on me.  If I comply with the demanded responses then I will get communication as long as I play by their rules.

My marriage is even an example for this.  I asked him to leave because I had to think about my nieces and school.  They would be coming with me regardless of my marriage so I asked him to leave as to not uproot the girls.  I never anticipated he left that day came back for clothes and his PS5 and that was it.  Seventeen years of marriage and he left without looking back.  I spent those years stressing to ensure we had a roof over our head, food, necessities and did my best to make sure his wants were taken care of (PS5).  Yet at the end of the day none of it mattered.  Everything including myself was insignificant.

I am realizing my capacity to genuinely care about people is greater than many I know.  Ways I show care is doing my best to thank people, provide if they need me for something and to not burden them if I can help it.

I may vent my frustration but I do not ask for help.  I have done things on my own.  I ignore my own hurt as priorities matter.  This is at every level.

I had an emergency appendectomy on a Saturday which was the same day my Great-Grandpa died.  Monday, I reported to work to do my paperwork job as I was the trained employee to get the reports to corporate.  That day I also attended my Great Grandpa's funeral.  Less than 48 hours from surgery I was taking care of my responsibilities.

My hurt whether physical or emotional is not a priority when I care.  I may not have become a nurse because of test anxiety but I have the trait of a provider and caregiver that many good test takers lack when it comes to bedside manner.

I have allowed so many to just abuse my empathetic nature and my level of care.  Why is it ok to hurt me, disregard me, and provoke me?  

I know the answer.  It is because they know at the end of the day I will always be there no matter what.  My care is to great that my hurt does not matter.  I just wish others could at the minimum acknowledge their actions and be accountable.  My mental check list is long and my wounds are deep.  Instead of continuing to cause harm I just wish others would begin to care.

We all are going through life with hurdles.  Some of us are taking on more responsibilities but that doesn't mean it is all theirs to endure.  Maybe if you care you can offer acknowledgment when you make their burden heavier.  When you cause hurt apologize so that specific wound can heal. 

If I have to put it in video game terms.  I am surrounded by Bosses and each are taking the blows.  My health is diminishing and I need more hearts to fill it back up.  Acknowledgement is finding a chest with a few hearts to keep me in the game.  If there are no chests to be found then my game will be over sooner than I like.

Amaysing Thoughts 

I need a minute.

I was five when I knew I wanted to be a mom.  I knew I wanted kids and to get married, period.  A career was not in the idea until I was seven and by then I was going to be a wife, mother, and doctor.  

My Cabbage Patch (Kenneth) was my first baby and then came my My Child (she was never given a name just she was my My Child), and my special Cabbage Patch whom I opened the box without permission and lost her birth certificate was my third baby.  I knew they were my practice babies even when I was little.  I knew I couldn't lose my real child's birth certificate or let them live without names.

Names are tough though.  How do I know the name I choose will be right for them throughout their whole life?  I spent hours throughout childhood, and even my twenty's brainstorming names for my future kids.

I knew I needed stability if I were going to have a family.  I grew up always being the new kid never feeling as though I fit in or really had friends.  I was never there long enough to feel rooted anywhere.

When you grow up with this plan and working towards the goal when it crumbs so does a piece of you who spent your lifetime focused on the plan and goal.

When I decided to stop telling myself there was a chance for kids a piece of me died.  The five year old who regretted the moment I took my crayon to my MY Child's lip because I wanted them to look brighter.  The girl who tried to scrape the crayon off with scissors only to slice her lip.  I cried realizing I hurt my baby when I was supposed to protect my baby.  That little Katrina Marie only loved her babies from that day forward keep their clothes on and hair neat because that is what mommy's do became just a childhood memory.  

No longer doodling names for potential children because there will never be any child I will have the responsibility to name.  No child will have my brown curls, olive complexion, similar laugh, and green eyes like my grandpa.  

There is no cause for concern that time is running out because it was never really ticking for me to begin with.  To mourn the loss of humans whom only existed in your dreams is hard to articulate.  

Everyone I know has at least a child whether planned for or not.  They may have struggles with infertility so their ideal number is not achieved.  I still say this does not compare to no children, no miscarriages and D&C because of pregnancy nope just inability to stop hemorrhaging naturally.  

Seeing your sister who struggled for 10 years get pregnant was difficult.  Then to watch your younger sister not really struggle at all was even more difficult.

I have been told maybe the plan was predetermined and the reason I don't have children is because my nieces need me.  I understand the concept but it is not how my brain functions.  I had to mourne a loss of something that only existed in my mind.  

I have items I saved for my children.  It isn't as meaningful being gifted from an Aunt.  Unless you are me because cherish family at all levels and value tradition.  I have unused items in my save for baby stash that has never been used.

Grief and loss for me exists even for humans whom will never exist.  When I told myself to accept it doesn't mean I am over it.

I can't anticipate how this loss effects me or even when it will impact me.  I understand my role with the girls.  I get it and accept it.

My dream never considered me a single parent.  I never dreamed to have two kids needing me while working full time and having no one available to help me in the day because they are all an hour away from me.  

I never asked or wanted to do this alone.  Those are my circumstances though whether I want it or not.  There is a respect and idealized person whom is always present.  I am not her.  I have never been her and will never be her.  

I know if she were here I would be on speed dial to defuse so many things.  She wouldn't be alone because she always had me.  I was that for her from the moment I was born.

When you lose a dream it can haunt you at times but loss of children is different. Being a guardian I did not anticipate how it would trigger the loss in so many different ways.

Not only is it the I am an Aunt never a mom.  It is triggered even in the I am taking legal and financial responsibility to purchase a second car so my niece can drive.  This is beyond a tantrum of someone upset they will never get to have a baby registry, decorate a nursery or have a baby shower.  No this is me putting myself out there beyond what my five year old dream ever considered.

Foster Parents and Guardians of State Wards don't just put their own money and legal liability on the line for the minors they care for.  

Working to accept I will never have children yet to be equally responsible for children is a mental tornado of fear, loss, panic, all at once.  Normally a parent has 16 years to mentally prepare for this.  I can honestly say I did not ever prepare to be my niece's parent.  I would rather have my sister alive.  I did not ask for this it is what the girls need and that is the most important.

I did not get a choice.  I wasn't asked if it was okay to lace my sister's food.  The moment she died the plan she made was what mattered.  Take care of her girls. He was free at the time so I had to ensure she got justice.  This would protect the girls from him in the long run and then do what needed to be done to make sure they are taken care of.  When focusing on obtaining evidence I wasn't reading parenting books. 

Mom's cry and have emotions when their kids hit milestones like first day of school, graduation, achievements and other significant things.  I wasn't prepared for the panic, loss, and feeling regarding how my niece was going to drive.

My sister's favorite thing was turning 16 and driving.  She loved the independence.  She struggled with vehicles her whole life from crashing them to not being able to afford them and yet she always got where she needed to go.  

I didn't plan to purchase a minor a car and have it insured by me.  My five year old self kept it relevant and Kenneth had to be carried around he was an infant no way was he needing a car.

I cannot explain to those with kids how not having kids alters you.  Being so focused on the creation step for years and every month being reminded you are a failure the brain doesn't move up to planning the teen years.  The brain just stays at the stage it is failing to achieve until you decide to release the dream, hopes, and wishes you have been clinging to since you were five.

My guardianship is a toddler yet buying a car and adding a driver and car to my insurance policy is not Toddler phase what so ever.  I have a Junior who will be a Senior next year and is talking about college.  I couldn't get past creation so I need a minute.  

I never get my minute because everyone is running while I am trying to keep up.  When I ask for a minute they don't hear me because they are on their own path.  I am by myself, and no one else is there to help pick up any of my slack or take anything off my plate.   If you could all slow down and give me a minute that would be great.

Parts of me have died and I am doing my best but I am broken so it going to take me a minute. 

Amaysing Thoughts

Pay It Forward

Pay it Forward

I have lived by the concept of Pay It Forward my whole life.

It did not take the Helen Hunt, Kevin Spacey, and Haley Joel Osman film for me to figure out what it means to pay it forward. (Fact - Helen Hunt narrated the Lifetime documentary episode of  interview for).

If I have, I always give.  The concept is that one day if I don't have maybe someone will give.  I talk myself into keeping the concept even though I have found I give and give but it never comes full circle.

I was the person that packed 3 towels, 3 goggles, 4 swim caps, and basically every supply you can think of.  If your cap ripped I have one for you, your goggles broke here is an extra pair, you forgot your towel here is a dry one.  This is me.  

You used all your golf tees?  Here I have an extra bag.  Need a golf ball? I got you covered, and here is the Sharpie so you can mark it with your signature marking to identify it on the fairway.

Disney vacation, you have a headache here is Tylenol, scrape I have the bandaid, here is the hand sanitizer, need a kleenex here you go, and here is a baby wipe to wipe off the stroller handle.

My bag feels like a Mary Poppins carpet bag.  Never ending like Hermione's enchanted beaded handbag.  

Your a parent and need a night off.  I will make the kids dinner, do the dishes, give them baths, brush their hair, read them a story and have them in bed on time so you can feel like you can relax when you get home.

You want to hang out, don't feel up to making food and don't have cash.  No problem order the pizza we will eat and hang out don't worry about it.

If I need something done and you help me I will cover your cost plus a little extra.  

My uncle would fix my car, if it cost $200 in parts then he knew he would have a minimum of $250 coming his way.  

I am responsible and take the responsibility seriously.  I have never had a debt I didn't pay.  Debts circle my brain like vultures over a dead carcass.  I wish for the day my debts are all paid.   This will never happen. I have lived through financial hell that I had to manage because I didn't get to have control.

I worked hard to increase my earnings.  A mortgage that was calculated on two salaries for thirty years, I cover solely plus all other household expenses.  Some may say this is an accomplishment but in reality it is because I can rely on me and no one else. 

I work to survive.  I would wake up in the middle of the night with an uneasy feeling.  Look up my bank account to realize what I thought was there was not.  I was consistently told my lack of purchasing things was unfair because I wasn't normal.  Apparently, living with a minimum of 8 authorizations at any given time is the new normal.  The amounts could vary anywhere from a drink at the gas station under $5 to a video game over $80.  

Paying off debt with a loan against your retirement is sometimes the cheapest interest rate you can get.  It isn't so great when your employer of 10 years decides they don't want you because they can pay someone less to do what you do.  Then your result is no more retirement.  Basically, the girl who opened her 401k as soon as she was old enough to and always contributes the max match amount and lives like my take home amount is my actual pay.  Tricking myself to live on that knowing I am saving for retirement.  When you leave the employer the loan is paid with your remaining funds resulting in you starting from scratch.

I have always thought outside myself.  I knew my parents could only afford to help one of us with school.  They didn't say this to me I knew looking at cost of school and knowing they had their own school loans from finishing their degrees older.  Watching my big sister not get accepted to her school of choice Kettering University, refusing to send in her housing paperwork to Central Michigan University, and then she enrolled at MOTT Community College.  She found hanging out at Kettering, the mall, and other places were more fun than classes leading to her dropping out.  This weighed heavy on my mind when it came time for me to go to college.  

My major, Associate of Applied Science, Nursing (Registered Nurse), was offered at MOTT Community College.  I could take any prerequisites they offered at MOTT for my Bachelor of Science, Nursing and then transfer for the four year degree while working as a RN.  The Associate would be free since my dad taught at MOTT and I would be working so I could pay for my 2 year Bachelor's.  This meant I didn't need my parents to help me with college and they could put all eggs in my little sister's basket. 

This was my 17 year old brain thinking it through.  Making sure my slice of the pie was not more than someone else's.  I didn't anticipate my path would not end the way I had planned.  I decided to finish my free degree in the most transferable way when nursing didn't work out.  I focused on my strengths.  I am over analytical and very detail oriented.  I am great at cash handling and therefore credit union made sense.  Working my way up from the entry level to management in a little over two years worked.  

When you start out a marriage with a brand new mortgage and your spouse's job literally was gone before we said, I Do, causes stress.  I took the responsibility to ensure we would not be homeless.  I knew the best option was for him to finish his classes for his Bachleor's so he could click the button instead of being weeded out of the opportunity without even finishing the application.  I worked harder so he could do school and part-time work.  

I worked harder when his degree was finished and we were in a economic recession with hiring freeze.  I worked harder to ensure the mortgage did not go into foreclosure.  I went without eating at times and still would wake up to money not being where I thought it should be.  I can only control myself.  I controlled my spending to manage what I could not control.  I ignored my house's chaos to manage what I did not have the time to deal with.  

I control myself and at times there is just too much and it is hard to always be the one taking the responsibility.  

When mom went to Boston to see my dad at Christmas, I filled the void and did the tradition at my house including purchasing everyones gifts my mom always purchased.  (The Socks... always the socks).  The year mom and dad were in OBX and Christy had an infection that needed tending to, I filled the void.  I took her to urgent care and paid for her treatment that ended up being three days of appointments when she had no insurance.

I spent years arguing about money for a mortgage and now I have the continual pressure to refinance.  Can I have a minute, I know the divorce mediator gave me a year and it is four months past that but this is a life plan of mine beginning demolished.  

I was going to own my home free and clear when I was 55 years old.  When we refinanced because of lost wages I reluctantly understood I would own it when I was 60 years old.  Now I am starting over, again at 43.  I continually get part way to my goal and then have to start from scratch.

When my sister died, I was in the last year of earning my Bachelor's of Business Management degree.  Priorities changed.  I had to make choices.  Do I go home to work on Statistics or go to my parents house to feed the baby, give her a bath and put her to sleep?  Sorry, the baby won.  I knew she lost her source of life when her mom died.  The 100% breastfeed four month old needed to have stability and routine.  That routine turned into my mom doing early morning feeding, baby went to daycare, then she got picked up, when I got out of work I drove to my parents where I did a nightly routine to put her to bed and my dad did late night feedings.  

Did Statistics matter more than making sure my sister's case was followed through on?  No. My plan derailed.  Change the lyrics just a tad and I am Frenchie from Grease... Bachelor Degree Dropout... No Graduation Day for Me.

Does this mean I have looming student loan debt that hovers over me like a little black rain cloud?  Yes.  Am I able to click a box to get through the application filters to earn more?  No.  

I appreciate my job so much.  I am able to survive.  I also know when things get tough I work harder.  I can't risk unemployment.  I have dealt with too many times being told he lost his job.  All of that over 17 years was not the reason I was done.  I stuck to my word and continued to provide, work, and ensure needs were met.  

I could have fought for my fair share of things but I am responsible.  I have two traumatized kids who need stability so I knew I needed to keep the house for them, they deserve it.  Do I need a new clean slate?  Yes, but I am not thinking of only myself.  Do I make enough to cover house and expenses, yes.  Do I make enough for wants? No.  Do I manage girls funds preventing them from having their wants? No. I manage their funds to cover their wants.  Are they spoiled? Yes.  They get name brand shoes twice a year while I am wearing the same shoes I bought myself for Disney in November 2023.  

They come first.  I work to survive.  Paying off credit card debt where I don't even know the purchases because I wasn't even a card holder.  Years of investigating my own accounts and listening to my intuition to discover money spent we needed for something more essential.  No wonder I fear debt and live by paycheck.  I have no credit card to put a purchase on and manage paying off over time.

If the money isn't in the account it isn't there period.  I don't have a slush fund.  Do I make enough to save?  Not really, as soon as their is surplus there is something that happens to use the funds.  I am done fighting about it all.  Everyone's wants and needs is exhausting.  

If I didn't plan for it I will need a minute because paycheck to paycheck when you are responsible means I cannot just give you money.  It is already spent before it is received on the house payment and housing expenses.  I will have to figure out how to work out the funds beyond that.  

Does this mean I am bad with money?  No, it means I am like so many other average working people who live pay check to pay check.  Savings is a luxury.  When the cart of groceries I bought two years ago cost me $300 and now costs me $500 yet I haven't had a raise.  I want to tell everyone to, "Just go, just leave me alone, and when I say I am done... I am done".  

I was left with the chaos of the house I ignored to survive.  I have only used three vacation days since May 2024.  I manage the girls including their needs and wants.  

Refinancing a mortgage is not just a business transaction.  Seriously, I am a Mortgage Auditor.  I earn my money analyzing thousands of documents everyday.  Mortgages are a major life change.  From newlyweds first home, change of employment needing relocation, upgrading for growing family, downsizing as empty nesters, divorce, and selling a loved ones home after they passed or needed to be moved to assisted living.

To me this is forcing me to increase my mortgage rate causing my retirement plans to extend longer.  Realizing my deed will be solely in my name, so how will I manage planning for my estate.  Fretting over the house's needed code improvements we knew when we bought it that I have to do for anyone including me to be able to sell it.  

This doesn't even touch base on my overall anxiety about having people inside my house seeing it as is.  From the appraiser taking photos that will last thirty years in a file to repair worker for my plumbing and electrical.  

This is not mentally easy process.  Is it a constant terrifying concern I have had since signing my first mortgage April 2007?  Yes.  Is it believed I got more out of the deal when divorce was finalized? Yes.  Is that the truth?  Absolutely, not.  Were things done that were not fair.  Yes. Did I bring it up?  No, I was done fighting. 

I get to take the burden for that but in the back of my mind I keep thinking I have so much unreciprocated Pay It Forwards banked up that maybe some day I will catch a break.  

I still provide even when I can't afford.  I think of others and do my best to be responsible and Pay It Forward.  I do wonder though who will have the knife that stabs me in the end.

Amaysing Thoughts

Crash Test Dummy

Doctors appointment this week. Knowing life expectancy from diagnosis of liver cirrhosis is 10 to 15 years.  I am almost 20 years post-diagnosis with 30 years from initial bloodwork showing liver function was a problem.

When I opted for gastric sleeve there wasn't research to back up my thought for how it could help the liver.

Doing all the dieting over the years and putting my liver through a weight roller coaster of ups and downs is not reducing stress on liver.  My thought was gastric sleeve can maintain steady weight which ultimately will benefit the liver.  The liver won't have the consequences to keep up with increased cell production and decreased cell production related to weight.  

My appointments since surgery have not focused on weight. I have maintained about 100 lbs weight loss since surgery September 2019.  The discussion has turned to improving living liver tissue.  Cirrhosis is scar tissue and basically dead cells that do not function as liver.  The more scar tissue there is the less my liver is functioning.

As of 3 years ago, I am Stage 4 Liver Cirrhosis.  My doctor stated it as if I forgot but we both know we are in unchartered territory.  I said, "I look at it as my liver will do a 180°.  By the time my skin shows jaundice or yellow I am already behind and have to hope a liver is available."  

She said, "Yes, you are right and I am glad you are seeing it that way."

She then said, "You have history of pancreatitis."  I confirmed her statement.

I reminded her of the odd situation.  My dad was complaining of symptoms for a year, he had multiple tests all showing normal results.  Then I had the same symptoms.  Pain on my left that turned severe which if I am saying that it is pretty bad.  I have a high tolerance and only seek medical help if needed.  

I went to ER where literally everyone on the ER floor went to lunch and left my mom and I in the ER after they took my blood.  I waited and over an hour with no one in sight to even ask what is happening.  I opted to leave and self manage pain which meant I spent a week not eating only able to lay on the floor going through waves of pain or sleep.  

I was charged $3000 for my non-visit via my deductible that I had to pay.  Another reason I do not go to doctor unless I need to.

Once my pain subsided after a week my dad ended up coming over jaundice.  Then we were told pancreatic cancer.  Either I am so empathetic I got pancreatitis to be able to confirm my dad's symptoms or it is just a very strange coincidence.

Confirming history of pancreatitis my doctor said she had an offer.  

I am used to this type of request.  I have been a crash test dummy for many medical treatments.  Glucophage treatment for PCOS when it was only used for diabetes. A patch infused with scar reducer that I was supposed to wrap around my head each day to me that plastic surgeon was a quack and I lost the patch as soon as he gave it to me. What 18 year old wants a patch on their forehead 24/7 wrapped with either a headband or guaze as there was no other way to keep in on my head wound.  I was the first in my family to take antidepressant/anti-anxiety meds.  I was even signed up for a trial for liver disease with U of M Hospital but in the time it too for me to get appointment the trial had failed and wasnt available.

Wanting to be a nurse I knew how nervous I was giving my first intermuscular shot or starting IV.  So I always all the students to start my IVs, provide shots, do assessments or observe appointments.  Learning and having an understanding patient is so appreciated to the student and I know this first hand.

Medical research is on going and continuous.  I feel like the more research the more knowledge which means more successful advancements.  I also understand every body is different and just because it is "normal" does not me it is your body's normal.

She said one of the GLP-1 has been FDA approved for Fatty Liver treatment.  My eyebrows went up and she knew my thoughts.  She said, "You and I both know there is no research on Liver Cirrhosis."  She has prescribed and had other patients have good success with GLP-1 for their fatty liver.  

She wants me to take the GLP-1 to see if it improves my liver function tests.  She reiterated my weight and any other symptoms are not the reason for me to take it.  It is simply to see how it effects my liver function.  

My results could help others with cirrhosis or more advanced liver disease.  I have always been my doctors youngest patient with cirrhosis.  I was youngest at 24 and now even at 43 most patients are still 20 years older than me who have test results similar to mine.  I am now my doctors longest living cirrhosis patient by about a decade.

She then said, "My biggest concern is one risk factor is pancreatitis taking the GLP-1."

My liver complications have already caused my gallbladder issues, enlarged spleen, anemia and a new normal of low hemoglobin.  Do I add pancreatitis to the list?

This is a difficult decision.   Knowing my dad and his grandpa died of pancreatic cancer matched with my mom's side of the family with generations of liver failure and cirrhosis.  This genetic lottery is a gamble.

I have a month sample to see if I can tolerate it.  She will submit to insurance as liver treatment.  Knowing I am a living case study for medical professionals sometimes feels like I should live in a petri dish.

This is a tough choice to make.  

Amaysing Thoughts

Man Up

Man up.

My dad played a game when we were little.  I would ask to play it and believe of the three of us I enjoyed it the most.

My dad was the father of three girls.  He would lay on the floor when we were little and let us play beauty salon with our combs, brushes and barettes.  Until one day he leaned forward and the barette just fell right out that was when the beauty salon was closed for good.  Male patterned baldness could not hold up a plastic bow barette.  

My dad was the best girl dad.  He taught us it is okay to beat the boys and encouraged us to do so.  We were smart and could do whatever we wanted to as long as we worked hard to achieve it.  

My favorite game though was Sons.  My dad would flip the switch and call us his three sons, Christopher, Kyle and Patrick.  Miss Manners, Katrina, would then take the stance no dad we're girls!  I am not a Boy!  He would play right into his role, "Stop it, Kyle, I have three sons.  I don't know what your talking about."  This would go on for some time and then he would flip the switch again and I would then be Katrina again, no longer Kyle.

I have always joked my alter ego is Kyle.  The name peselected by my dad.  The part of me that helped grandpa in the garage woodworking.  The one who was dad's helper building sheds in the back yard, "Hand me a screwdriver."  The one who knew the difference between phillips head, and flat head (never cross or straight).  The one who checked the oil in my first car weekly and knew how to diagnose my cars rattling noises.

The part of me I allow to take over when mom calls that she has a flying rodent, that I, Katrina, am panic attack driven fully fearful of.  Kyle is the one who entered the house from the garage calmly pinpointed its location, grabbed the nearest long handled device (a mop), got it trapped in the mop, and thrown outside so my mom didn't have to be terrified.  Kyle did that, Katrina had the panic attack hyperventilating crying aftermath that followed.

My mom has said many times, my husband has been gone too long he can come home anytime now.  I get it this business trip had lasted almost two years and he is not coming home.  

I have said, I am trying my best to man up.  Fix what is broken, manage what he managed, and be Kyle.  Katrina feels like this game is last a little longer than expected.  She is ready for dad to flip the switch and let her be his little girl, again.

He used to say when I first started talking I would meet him at the door hold up arms and say, "I a Bup."  He called me Bup because he said I was so little I was a baby but little like a puppy so I was a Buppy later shortened to Bup.  Bup was his pinky holder in the parking lot.  My hand too small to hold hands that I only held his pinky.

My dad was known in Shady as Uncle Bubb.   Hence why I call my nephew Bubb.  It seems like the B nicknames always stick.  My niece's are Bug and BooBoos. My nephew Bubb and then of course the littlest who has a mind of her own I call Sassy Pants.

Bup grew up and became Beaner later shortened to Bean.  I rarely ever recall hearing Katrina said by my dad.  If it weren't Bean it was Trina but even that was rare.

Bean started in adolescence and lasted throughout.  Beaner stuck to the point my Grandpa Hooper called me Beaner and quit using my full name or Trina.  My cousin when he learned to talk called me Beaner.  Yet, it was only the men in my family that used the nickname.  To everyone else I was Trina.  

I have only ever been Katrina at school, work, or partnered with Marina by my mom.  Katrina Marina, a fitting nickname for a swimmer.  

Kyle though has a place and with no men left to call when help is needed Kyle has to man up and answer the call.  Katrina can beat the boys, be smart, and work hard to have what she wants.  Kyle is the son my parent's never had but still taught how to do the things that need to be done.  Like take out the trash, catch the flying rodent, fix the internet, light the water heater, problem solve the furnace, and find the right tool to fix the problem.

Dad taught Kyle how to man up, I just wish the game didn't have to last so long this time.  I am okay with just being Bean, Trina, Katrina Marina, and Katrina, again.

Amaysing Thoughts 

Mental Noise

Mental Noise.

My brain is constantly thinking what I should do, could do, or should have done no matter the topic.

When in a chaotic busy place I have difficulty focusing and handling all the things happening around me.  People take my overwhelm as negativity rather than just having a hard time processing all the mental noise happening.

Sitting in a venue with 18 wrestling matches happening simultaneously with rounds totalling in the 80's per mat is A real life example of my brains thoughts.  

What others are hearing as constant whistling, commotion, and people everywhere you turn is how I feel at home with the girls on any given day.

During the 8 hour event the noise in my brain turns to a hum and my focus becomes sporadic.  So much happening unable to focus while some only experience this at an event like this, I feel like this most often.  

The girls are constant chatter, house noises, visual chaos that I don't have time or energy to manage and girls like any other kid will create the chaos but not clean it.

My environment is always overstimulating and it is exhausting.  Have me at an event that is overstimulating for a majority of other people it is beyond what I can manage.

I shut down.  Noise is no longer distinctive it is ominous.  Visuals are just like looking at blurry pictures just a sea of smudging colors.  Even my senses of touch cause me to feel enclosed, hot, and stifled.  As if, air is not circulating.  

I need space where I can breathe.  When I am with my nieces they are attached to me in every sense of the word.  Wanting to be my shadow or physically touching me in these environments which I just have difficulty managing.

In this commotion my thoughts still run rapid thought my brain.  What I need to do, should do, and want to do.  I appear like I am just observing the event but I could not tell you what is going on.  

I startle when spoken to because I am pulled back to reality.  My senses are screaming.  My niece wants to rest on my shoulder yet I just need space.  She sits back so I lean forward to keep our shoulders from touching.  She moves forward I lean back.  I don't want to do this dance but she gravitates to any touch which just makes me want to yell.

I don't yell as I know it is just me.  I am unfocused because of I am overstimulated but on high alert and edgy all at the same time.  It just seems like an oxymoron.  

I wonder what it is like to not feel this way in this environment.  How would it feel to be calm in chaos?

I think of swimming.  My events were a mixture of quiet and chaos.  When I would swim I would hear the buzzer to start and the roar of chaotic yelling would be instantly quieted once I hit the water.  I could refocus on my task, streamline, kick and get to the surface.  Once surfacing I could only hear the chaos when I took a breath.  Usually I had help with that as instead of mass chaotic nose it was a series of distinctive whistles I knew were specifically my mom (I could hear her call a mile away).  My big sister was pool side when she was at my meets and made sure I heard her Pull, Kick, Pull.  They provided me a focus through chaotic noise.

My other sport golf is considered a quiet sport but there is always distraction from others throughout the course.  I always line up my shot and then mentally center myself.  Closing my eyes taking a deep breath and focusing on wind rustling trees or a bird chirping in the distance. Upon opening my eyes I would begin my backswing and ensure I always followed through.

My sports required me to overcome my environment.  My sports had their distinct moments of quiet where I could focus.

Watching my nephew wrestle in this mass confusion of chaos is overwhelming.  These kids are able to focus on their movements, their opponents, the referee and it all happening with chaos everywhere, I don't comprehend how they manage.  

I had declined going to other events because in a high school gym there is no personal space.  An arena has individual seats but I was not prepared for 18 simultaneous events on repeat for 8 hours.

When I returned home I sat on the couch.  I turned on my mindless show of the moment (re-watching Deadliest Catch).  I realized half way through the episode I couldn't open my eyes.  I was still alert and listening to the show but my eyes wouldn't open.  Next thing I know my niece was asking to go on a walk.  Then I woke up and she was on front porch chatting with her friend.  It had been an hour.  

My body had enough and shut down.  I have been exhausted now two days later.  Yawning all day feeling my sleep isn't enough for me to kick this worn out feeling. 

The thought of doing anything makes me even more tired.  I know it will be about a week for my body and mind to calm due to the mental noise of the weekend.  I do not just bounce back and become energized.

My chaos is constant so exposing myself to extreme environments just is beyond overwhelming.  The girls are enough chaos for me on a regular.  They want to control and be in the know so I am not given time to just free think and plan as I am used to. 

I don't make choices because I don't have that luxury.  They control due to PTSD and trauma that if I just force my way would just cause epic issues.  I manage what I can but if I had my way my environment would be clean, calm, and reduce the visual chaos.  There wouldn't be yelling and swearing or the chaotic YouTube streams they watch.  I would have time to think, plan, and have order because I love organization and routine.

Anyone seeing my environment would not realize my borderline OCD habitual tendencies to my surroundings.  It is the mental noise that effects my environment as well as others lack of desire to manage their own chaos.

I wish for calm in chaos and overall reduced mental noise.

Amaysing Thoughts