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I'm heading over to Sissyface's to spend the the night, and to view my apartment for the first time. Tomorrow morning before she heads out for work we're going to pick up paint so I can get started on the bedroom. As I contemplate this move, all sorts of negative phrases parade through my mind.

“The tree whose leafy umbrella had curled around, under and over her fire escape had been cut down because they complained that wash on the lines got entangled in its branches. The landlord had sent two men and they had chopped it down. But the tree hadn’t died…it hadn’t died.

There's a part of me which wistfully longs to be like others who are whole and unfractured. I wonder at random moments what that must be like. To sail through childhood with one whole self and personality intact, oh what deliciousness! I can't even imagine it.

Some Rights Reserved by will hybrid at Flickr The other day I looked back at a couple of posts by Therese Borchard at Beyond Blue about the behaviors that distinguish men and women in their responses to depression. She quoted two different studies in posts she published about a year apart, and that’s how long I’ve been mulling over writing about this subject.

~edited 10-5-08 to add: I originally wrote this post for my own benefit never expecting to publish it. I accidentally hit publish and this was posted to Google reader. I immediately received emails and comments about where it had gone. I decided to post it since many had already seen it.

How fitting that my mother plans on willing me her cookbooks, considering what a Cinderella I was in her second family. The insult of my little inheritance is just now sinking in. She so easily could have left me nothing, which is exactly what I would have expected and wanted.

Santa Barbara School, Guam Sixth Grade at Santa Barbara School was momentous to me for several reasons. There were no longer Seventh and Eigth Grades at the Catholic school so it was my final year there.   My previous year in the 5th grade was very difficult because we were in a class of over 50 kids due to a shortage of teachers.

Tim and I met Sissyface yesterday to pick out paint for my apartment. I've never done this before, never had the luxury of choosing different colors for every room. My head swam from all the available choices. Someone inside my head kept sounding off a warning, but I ignored it.

From "Opening our Hearts, Transforming our Losses," Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc., 2007, page 60:"Growing up with active alcoholismSome of us who came from alcoholic homes feel that we grew up too fast. We carried a burden of responsibility that was too much for any child to bear.

I’ve been fairly stressed out this week. The state of the American economy, the housing market, health insurance (or lack thereof), my yet-to-be paid off student loans - in other words, money (or again, lack thereof) - all have me freaking out just a bit about my future and my country’s future.