When I first wrote about Brett Reider here I had just seen the documentary BRETT KILLED MOM: A SISTER’S DIARY on HBO and I wanted to write about my feelings and also to encourage everyone to watch what I thought was a very important film. I wasn’t even thinking that other people, who were, like me, wondering what had happened to Brett, would be searching the internet and coming to my site for answers. I posted what I had been able to find out here. I was saddened by the site that stated that Brett had committed suicide. I wanted a happy ending for this young man. As much as I wanted to know the truth I never imagined that I would receive an email from Brett’s wife Sara. She had heard about my site from a friend and wrote to let me know that not only is Brett alive, he is married with two beautiful boys and another baby on the way.

 

 

 

 

I emailed her back expressing my gratitude for her taking the time to not only contact me, but for providing photos so that I could see for myself that Brett now has a beautiful wife and two darling little boys. I also asked her if she would mind if I wrote a little note on my site stating that Brett was OK. I promised not to use any of the photos and to respect their privacy as it was clear that they have moved on. To my surprise she kindly gave me permission to not only pass on the information but to post the photos as well.

 

In Sara’s own words (I will place them in italics to make it easier for you, the reader, to differentiate between her words and my own),

“Brett and I just celebrated our 10 year wedding anniversary. He turned
30 this year. I am 37. We have two boys - Gavin (3) and Garrett (1). We
also have another (of unknown sex) on the way. Our oldest, Gavin was
diagnosed with Autism at 13 months old - so our lives revolve around
that. Parenting an autistic child is very challenging. Brett is a
wonderful father and Gavin has come along way because of all of the
time and attention Brett is able to give him.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Brett just lives a normal life. We moved from Nebraska to the coast of
North Carolina and he enjoys his anonymity. The documentary was filmed
when Brett was 16 years old - and they still air it now and again. We
did ask for them to put a written update at the end - but they never
responded and Brett has no rights or control over the program.”

 

 

 

“…we have received thousands of emails, letters and phone calls over the years
with horrific stories of abuse. Some similar to Brett’s - some much
worse. It really gets to be too much sometimes…because it is so sad
how common it is and can be very depressing. Brett also couldn’t
possibly respond to them all - which is why he doesn’t.”

 

“We are grateful to all of the people who have reached out to Brett over
the years - many of whom wrote the parole board and were critical to
his early release. We would like everyone to know this. We would also like for people to know that our focus now is on our son and advocating for Autism awareness. It truly
consumes our life.”

“We really aren’t hiding – we have just moved on and have so many other things to deal with now.
Hopefully, people searching from here on out will find your site and be
able to get the information they are seeking.”

 

Sara also let me know that Brett’s sister, “Alissa, is married and also has two boys aged 2 and 4″.

 

Sara also closed her email with a link to a website dedicated to autism http://www.generationrescue.org/

 

I myself have a nephew with autism and I have seen first hand the time and effort my sister and brother in law have put into making sure that their son lives the best life possible.

 

For me, this whole experience has been a lesson in hope and the ability of a person to not only survive horrifying abuse suffered at the hands of the ones who should ultimately protect us, our parents, but to rise above the idea that the cycle of abuse can’t be broken by going on to become wonderful spouses and parents.

 

My sincerest thanks to the Reider family for not only sharing this information and these photos with me, but also for allowing me to share them with the thousands of people who have been searching the internet to find out what happened to Brett Reider after his release from prison.

For those of you who have commented or emailed me with your stories of abuse please know that you are not alone. So many of us unfortunately share this common bond. If you are currently in an abusive situation don’t be afraid to ask for help. If you are out of the abusive situation but still finding it difficult to deal with the pain and/or the low self esteem that often follows there is help out there for you too. So many suffer in silence.

11/21/07 Edited to add that Brett’s wife Sara saw that people were curious about Brett’s current occupation, and she wrote me to say “Brett is a construction foreman who works on multi-million dollar projects.”

 

 

 

As I mentioned in an earlier post, my cousin is here on a visit from Australia. This is his first visit to this country and I wanted very much to help him have a nice time while he’s here. When I asked him what he wanted to see while he was here, the only thing he said was, “Snow!” Actually, he later asked me if I could help him find rugby on TV and after I pointed out ESPN I had no idea how else to help him, so I suggested he go to a sport’s bar. Off topic! Kinda.

Tomorrow we are going to drive until we can find snow. My kids think this is funny, but I reminded them of their thrill of snow, and tried to explain to them that yes, he’s 29 years old, but he’s never seen snow at he wants to and dammit it he spent 19 hours on an airplane to come here and see snow I will find him snow because it’s a dream of his and I believe in dreams. We are never too old.

Wish us luck.

My mind has been positively racing as of late, but I’ve felt unable to write it down because my brain moves too fast. At times like these I wonder if maybe I am bipolar but I don’t say anything because this drug thing? It’s getting so old. I honestly don’t feel that I can have a journal all about me and my depression and anxiety. It’s boring even for me, the subject matter. I could go on about the cold I can’t shake and how I feel dead inside right now. I suppose the Paxil has kicked in. I feel empty. Is it normal to have the reaction that you’re somehow dying inside? I resisted the doctor’s orders to put me on medication in 1986. I thought that it was important to feel, but it was all so overwhelming. I caved in 1993, and it’s been on and off since then.

I imagine that you, my reader, have to have a shelf life of how long you can pay attention to listening to some woman on the internet drone on about a depression that can’t be cured. I have been looking for other subject matter.

My Mom asked me recently what I loved to do; what I wanted to do with my life. I told her that I’d never been as happy as when I worked as a volunteer feeding the homeless.

“How are you going to make money at that?” was her reply. But that wasn’t her original question. She asked me what I loved to do. I like to feed the hungry. It might sound silly but it is such a simple and complex thing, removing hunger from someone’s life, even temporarily. I have been on both sides of it; having dealt with a severe lack of food both as a child and as an adult and it’s amazing what a meal can do to really fill someone.

“Hold tight. We’re in for nasty weather”

Yesterday I was grumpy. Polly was being her usual chatterbox self and I felt as if I needed some quiet. She doesn’t understand. She can’t understand. I ended up getting snappy with her and I feel guilty about that. The dog doesn’t like to go outside when it’s raining. That has been a struggle, this being Portland, Oregon and all. So yesterday I was doing the dishes and she shit all over the carpet. Diarrhea. It was my fault, because she should have been in her crate, but I wanted to let her out to roam the house a bit. I took her out and then came in to clean the mess. The whole house smelled and I couldn’t find any incense and I wanted to crawl into bed and hide. I was uncertain as to whether I needed to make a cup of coffee to perk me up, or perhaps have a nice relaxing cup of herbal tea? I considered taking a walk to the store to buy a bottle of wine. Maybe that would relax me?

I remembered how when I was a kid my Mom used to put a pot on the stove with water in it, and cinnamon sticks and cloves. She would simmer it and the whole house would smell wonderful. I grabbed a pot, filled it with water, dropped in some spices and then threw in some vanilla and a good dash of the lemon oil that I bought last year for some cookie recipe. I put it on the stovetop and went back to the dishes. I heard a sound, turned my head, and Woosh! The whole thing was on fire. I stared at it in disbelief for a second. The top of the pot was covered in flames, under the burner was on fire and flames were licking the wall. I put it out as quickly as I could. The kids came out of their rooms.

All that feng shui crap about not having fire across from water suddenly made sense. While you’re doing the dishes the whole house could burn down. After the fire was out Nathan looked at me and said, “Well, at least it smells better in here” and went back into his room.

The smoke detectors went off as I was wiping the black marks off of the wall above the burner. Alex came from upstairs where he had been sleeping, looked at me, turned around and walked back upstairs without asking me what I had done.

I grabbed my coat and walked to the store in the rain. Once there I decided that I wanted to have a beer. I looked in the cooler and they had Budweiser, Corona, and Heinekin. “Heinekin! Fuck that shit! Pabst Blue Ribbon!” I remembered. I smiled and bought the Heinekin, forgetting that it loses its good flavor on the ship over from Holland and always tastes nasty to me.

On the walk back home the rain stopped and I saw a double rainbow and I felt better. Not great, but better.

Sorry I haven’t been able to update; I’ve been the sickest I’ve been in ages. I’m finally feeling like I may be coming back to the land of the living tonight. Or maybe it’s just the fact that I just drank an iced coffee with a shot of espresso. I never do that this late in the day but I needed a kick to help me get some work done.

My illness started with food poisoning, and once I had ridden the porcelain god for a night, the cold from hell crept up and kicked me. Actually, I think it was the flu because fever, chills, body aches, oh my. Whatever. I am done for the whole season I hope. Oh, and if you are sniffing something in your fridge and wondering if it’s still good maybe you should just throw it out. I can’t believe I needed to learn that lesson again.

I just got done cooking a real dinner for my family, one that involved chopping and preheating and sautéing etc. I have been turning a blind eye to the food situation the past few days as I stayed sweating on the couch. I was actually relieved that they are now old enough to fix themselves something for dinner if need be. Sure, that might be a bowl of cereal or Macaroni and cheese from a box, but a few days won’t hurt them.

I made this for dinner tonight from chocolate and zucchini.

It was a huge success. I ate a bean burrito. Sometimes I feel a little left out as a vegetarian, but not often.

Le Poulet de Muriel

1 large free-range chicken, about 2 kilos (4 pounds)
1 tablespoon olive oil
Fine sea salt, freshly ground pepper
1 large head garlic
1 organic lemon, cut in four quarters
4 sprigs of fresh thyme
2 sprigs of fresh rosemary

Rub the skin of the chicken with olive oil, sprinkle it with salt and pepper on all sides, and place it, breasts-side up, in a clay pot or cast-iron cocotte large enough to accommodate it. Peel the outer layers off the head of garlic to separate the individual cloves — don’t peel the cloves themselves. Arrange the cloves, lemon, and herbs around the chicken.

Put the lid on, slip the pot in the cold (not preheated) oven, and turn the oven on to 150°C (300°F). Bake for three hours, or until cooked through (if you have a meat thermometer, insert it in the inner part of a thigh: the chicken is done when the thermometer registers 82°C / 180°F), basting the chicken with its own juices every 45 minutes or so.

Transfer the chicken to a cutting board, carve the different serving parts, and transfer to a warm serving dish (pour very hot water from the kettle into it and let stand as you cut the chicken). Transfer the juices, herbs, and cloves to a gravy boat, and serve immediately, with green beans and mashed potatoes.

I had originally planned on starting this off with an explanation as to why I haven’t written but why?

I recently mentioned that we had decided to get a new fence. The old fence on the North side of our property was falling down and the wood was in extremely bad condition. After getting price quotes Alex and I decided to do a lot of the labor ourselves. Since I am not exactly as handy as he is, I took over the demolition. Prying off the fence boards was easy. Digging out the posts wasn’t. We only dug out the ones that had to be removed and decided to offset the new ones to save on labor. I wanted to do as much of this work as possible because I felt guilty knowing that the majority of the building of the new fence would fall on Alex. So I took the old fence down. As you can see from this photo, it was past time for this project.

There is something that I find extremely rewarding about physical labor. I like to see a job through from start to finish. I loaded the dumpster with Nathan and enlisted Polly to help with Maggie as she has grown extremely fond of me and whimpers when she can see me but not be near enough to satisfy her mommy love. Maggie, not Polly. I was worried that someone would step on a rusty nail but it was only me who managed to do that. I ended up needing some help from Alex with the removal of the posts because digging that concrete out was hellishly hard. Alex did seem happy that I did as much of the labor as I had and he explained that he hadn’t thought that I was going to do so much on my own.

After I had trimmed the shrubs and things that were blocking access to the property line I started cleaning up the mess and preparing to go inside for a warm shower. A neighbor came by and inquired as to what we were doing. I explained and she frowned at the dumpster. “Couldn’t you have used that wood for something else?”, she asked. “No”, I replied, “it was totally rotten and there were a lot of termites and ants in it.” “Well you could have burned it in your fireplace!” she said, all huffy and superior. I explained that we don’t have a fireplace. The chimney on the top of our house is for the furnace. “Well you could have given it to someone to burn!” she responded and Alex stepped in and told her that the wood couldn’t be burned because it was painted and then made sure to let her know in no uncertain terms that she was in our way.

I have never understood the inclination of people to approach others and mock their decision process regarding personal decisions.If that would could have been reused I would have done so.Even if I felt like throwing away perfectly good wood, what business is it of hers. There is so much intervention into our personal freedoms. After spending the years since my eighteenth birthday as a Democrat I have found myself more and more disenchanted with the two major political parties and more curious about libertarianism.

My Mom received short notice last week that not only was one of her nephews on his way from Sydney, Australia for a visit but that the foreign exchange student she hosted in 1987 was going to be here too and could she stay, please? My Mom has just recently taken possession of her new house and was in the middle of that after move chaos with the boxes and the where the fuck is anything hell. I probably would have had a breakdown at the thought of having two unexpected guests when I hadn’t even unpacked but my Mom took it all in stride, welcoming them both into her new home and having a large party at her place last Saturday. I was originally very nervous about this get together but I managed to attend with Nathan and Polly and we had the best time. This cousin of mine, Peter, is one that I have met a few times but never gotten to know well. It was wonderful to see him and I look forward to getting to know him better. The beautiful woman from Japan looked exactly as I remembered her when she was here at 16. Her English is still rusty, but way better than my Japanese. We talked quite a bit with the aid of a little dictionary and a pocket translator she typed into. She told me that when she was here before I had refused to allow her to take any photos of me. I don’t remember doing that but I tried to make up for it by allowing myself to be photographed by everyone and trying not to worry about my appearance. I always feel so ugly, so fat, so awkward. When I see other women who have scars or stretch marks or extra pounds it never occurs to me that they are unattractive. When I see these things in my own reflection I have a hard time not feeling ugly. I am not sure why this is.

This party on Saturday put the whole of our family together for the first time in ages. All nine of my mom’s grandchildren were there, ranging in age from 22 to 2, and all 4 of her children. I haven’t seen my brother in about a year. I am usually quite nervous around him. He brought his new girlfriend. She is one of those people who puts you at ease immediately and it felt really good to sit and talk with her. She asked about my recent decision not to have a hysterectomy (news travels fast in my family) and I explained my feelings that alternative methods of dealing with it hadn’t been tried and that I wanted to explore those options first. She recommended a Naturopathic physician she is friends with. It was nice to meet someone new. I later told my brother that I was so smitten with his girlfriend that he’d better watch out for I was tempted to take her home myself. He laughed and said that he had been friends with her for over twenty years and he agreed that yes, she is wonderful. It is nice to see him smile.

My kids are doing well in school. Polly has had the flu for the past couple of days so we’ve had her resting and drinking plenty of fluids. Nathan completed the testing that was required for his new school to assess his levels and he came home beaming when he did very well on every test. It’s interesting, I have told him many times how smart he is and how much potential he has. He has always brushed me off, stating that I had to say that because I am his Mom. Now a teacher he hardly knows tells him the same thing and viola!

Alex finished the fence and it looks beautiful. He also installed a gate so the backyard is more private and we don’t have to worry about the dog escaping. We cooked dinner on the grill last night and ate together as a family.

I am feeling pretty good. My doctor is weaning me onto Paxil now and I am very tired. I took a three hour nap yesterday (snuggled up with the puppy) and felt very guilty about it. It is hard for me to learn that it is OK to take care of myself. I’ve always been so busy taking care of everyone else.

The moon sends its love.

“We are stardust, we are golden,
We are billion year old carbon,
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden.”
Joni Mitchell

I highly recommend the gardening method set forth by Mel Bartholomew. In addition to the aforementioned website, his book is available on Amazon. When we first bought this house, I had visions of turning the backyard into a beautiful garden. After struggling with the rockiest, crappiest soil I have ever encountered in my life, I was ready to give up. Using the square foot method I was able to grow herbs and vegetables without breaking my back. I only wish I’d known about it sooner.

For those who want to garden but think they can’t with no yard, I recommend The Bountiful Container. Even if you just have room for one pot this book can help you learn to grow some of your own food. I know that I personally find gardening to be extremely therapeutic.

A lot of people have asked me how I manage to get my children to eat so many vegetables. One of the things I’ve done has been involving them in the process of selecting seeds or starts and planting their own food. Something about the tending of their very own plants helps to encourage them to eat vegetables. I also allow both of them to be a part of the selection process in the produce department and before meal times. Now that they are older I am teaching them to cook. Even as they struggle with some of the more complex procedures I try hard to encourage them. When they make something all by themselves they are very proud, even my fifteen year old son, who has no trouble putting on an apron and joining me in the kitchen.

One more thing, don’t be afraid to continue to serve things that your kids have previously said that they hate. Sometimes it takes numerous attempts before they become accustomed to a new food.

Oh, and if you can, start when they are very young. I feel as a mother that food battles are not something I choose to have in my house. There have been times when my kids have refused to eat, or when they have declared that they will only each such and such… When they were small we had a policy that they had to at least try one bite. Now that they are older (12 and 15) I don’t push food issues. I try to keep the house stocked with healthy foods and sometimes treats and remember that they will not starve to death.

Just as we had hoped, Maggie and Itty Bitty have become very close. Especially when they are not chasing each other around the house biting and scratching one another. They even curl up and nap together and it’s so cute I want to squeeze them but not really, because then they would be racing around the house again.

I was all scheduled to have my surgery this week. Tomorrow, actually. I have been depressed about it and thinking that it was the wrong decision, but I felt so much pressure from everyone around me (excluding my husband, who said it was my body and my choice.) I especially appreciate the phone calls from family members who said, “Get that thing ripped out!” I stopped answering my phone for a few days. They can go have their own reproductive organs removed if they so choose. So I actually canceled the surgery and I am going to look into alternative treatment options with another doctor. Yes, a third opinion.
I really appreciate the women who left comments of support and the women who emailed me to offer to lend an ear. Having agoraphobia/ anxiety/ depression can be very isolating and it meant so much to me that others were willing to share their stories, or to just listen. Thank you all. I have wished for a long time that I could develop a circle of friends around me. Maybe one day I will be brave enough to try.
I’ll be back soon with a longer entry. I have to help Polly with her Spanish homework (?!) and the laundry is piling up.

I had my appointment yesterday with a highly recommended surgeon/OB/GYN. I asked a lot of questions and she sat and talked with me for a long time. I wanted to just flat out ask her what I should do. Instead she got out a piece of paper and wrote out the problems that I have been having, the treatment options available, and the pros and cons of each. Everything points to my having a hysterectomy. She told me to take some time to think and she would have someone call and check on me soon to see if I had made my decision. If I decide to do it they schedule it ASAP.

When I arrived home I gave Alex the brochures she had given me and he set them aside without looking at them. I felt mad all of the sudden. I started thinking about how he hadn’t thought to call me to see how my appointment went even though he knew I was scared about it. I took Maggie into the backyard and sat in the corner of the yard near the shed where I hoped no one in the world could see me and I cried for awhile. Polly came out back and I dried my eyes quickly. She asked me what was wrong and I just told her that I was feeling stressed because I had a big decision to make. I went back inside and tried to do normal things like dishes but I kept feeling these waves of sadness come over me. Alex approached me and told me not to be so “mopey” because apparently I had scared Polly and she had gone to him to ask what was wrong with me. I tried to tell Alex that I was scared and confused and he patted me and told me that everything would be OK. He ordered pizza so I wouldn’t have to cook and I got into the shower and wept until I could cry no more. This is the worst possible time for me to be weaning myself off of Effexor as I was weepy before my appointment.

Later I was reading some article about Britney Spears’ performance and how she looked “fat” and I started to cry again. I’ve never even been a fan of her music but I had this idea of this young woman who had just had two children and a divorce in a very short period of time and of how nervous she must have been about this “comeback” performance and the whole thing seemed so horrible to me, that people would come right out and mock her body like that when she has obviously been going through a hard time and who hasn’t felt like shaving all of their fucking hair off? Hell, I’ve done it!

Then I realized that I was crying over Britney Spears. Alex suggested that I have a drink of the alcoholic variety and lie down on the bed. He came in and stretched out beside me and I reached for him and he held me while I cried (AGAIN!) until my head ached. Then I went to sleep and dreamed that I opened up my own bakery and it was a huge success. This morning he let me sleep in and he took Polly to school so I could stay in bed as long as I wanted to.

Today I feel better. Polly took the photo of me I put up, by the way. She has decided that she wants to be a professional photographer as she feels she has “an eye” for it. I love it when my kids display confidence, even though I let her borrow my camera and she returned it with 379 photos on it and only three of them weren’t blurry. I told her that they were wonderful and she beamed. She told me that after taking photos of me she noticed that I had an “unusual” chin and I noticed that hey, my hair probably would look a lot better if I did take the hour to use a flatiron but Nah.

 

 

My uterus is still negotiable. I have arranged for a second doctor to give me an exam and also to look at the images I have in my medical history. I don’t want to have any body parts removed unless I absolutely have to, thank you very much. My sister Monica helped me come up with a list of questions to ask this doctor. Last time I just dropped my mouth open and stared in disbelief. My sister Maria called with suggestions of herbal remedies and vitamin solutions. I do believe in some natural remedies, sometimes. I wish more of them worked for me. At one time I gave St. John’s Wort a good long try, just in case. I am not opposed to the idea; I am just not going to eschew western medicine entirely. My appointment is next Monday.

 

My kids are doing well. School starts up again Thursday. They are spending these last moments being as lazy as they possibly can. I told them to enjoy it while they can. Polly is going back to the same middle school she loved last year, and Nathan is attending a new program designed for special needs kids. It became clear that I wasn’t able to home school him very well last year, but I was hard at work trying to find another solution. I don’t think I have ever typed both “special needs” and my son in the same sentence together. It’s sort of the elephant in the living room here. Everyone knows it, but we don’t talk about it much. I told Nathan last night that I would never give up on him, no matter what. Fifteen is a fun age. He knows everything and I know nothing. It’s OK though, because I got to know everything when I was fifteen so it somehow evens out.

Polly asked me last night what I wanted my kids to be when they grew up. I told her that I wanted them to be good people, and that I wanted them to be happy. Of course I have big dreams for them both but I want them to decide their future. I will just sit here and hope for the best and try to help them along the way.

 

Maggie the puppy is doing wonderfully. She has gained eleven pounds since we got her, and I have lost eight. She wakes me every morning around 6:30 to go potty and although I hate getting up early she is good for me, forcing me to get up and to go outside. She has mastered “sit” and “lie down” and “Maggie come”. I really do hate saying that to her as we take walks and she has to stop at every single leaf, rock, and blade of grass. It makes me sound like one of those sex partners who yell out “COME! COME! COME!” Not that I know anything about that. I think I saw it in a movie somewhere.

 

Itty Bitty the kitty has resigned himself to the fact that we have a puppy. They play together each day, sometimes a bit roughly, and then they pass out together and take a nap. They share each others toys and eat each others food if they can get away with it. Polly is constantly yelling out, “Quick, get me the camera, they are doing something cute!” I’ll look at them and they will be doing a slightly modified version of what they were doing ten seconds ago. I now have hundreds of pictures of these animals, thanks to Polly. I think we’ll get her a camera of her own for Christmas.

 

I have been weaning myself off of the Effexor. I was doing wonderfully until yesterday. I was pushing my cart around the grocery store and I burst into tears, right in front of the Tylenol section. I didn’t feel sad as much as I just felt tired of it all. I wanted to abandon my cart and just walk out of the store. I took a deep breath and kept going. My doctor is supposed to be adding in Paxil at some point, but I am still waiting. I called today and left a message for the doctor after Alex approached me and asked me what was wrong. I wasn’t really aware that anything was wrong, on the outside at least, but he said I was acting “weird”, which is always great to hear when you think that you’re keeping it all together and that no one knows. Truth is, Effexor withdrawals are the worst antidepressant withdrawals I have ever been through. Remember kids, I kicked coke and meth and heroin. And pot, because it made me panic in the end, god damn it. I liked smoking pot. That is how I kicked cocaine, meth and heroin. Anyway, if someone has reached my site doing a search about Effexor my thoughts after years of experience are this: Effexor is a good drug. It gave me a lot more energy to go about my daily tasks, something that none of the other SSRIs did. Somewhere in that capsule must be some speed. But, the withdrawal is very hard. I would recommend doing it slowly, under the advice of a skilled doctor. My doctor had to up my dose of Klonopin considerably.

 

I hope that you are all doing wonderfully. Does anyone have any exciting news to leave in my comments? Questions? Answers? It gets lonely here inside my head.

I am currently watching “Melinda and Melinda”. The title of this post is from the movie.

I haven’t been writing because I’ve been processing.

I had an appointment with a surgeon/gynecologist and she said that I need to have a hysterectomy asap. I told her that I needed some time to think it over, to get a second opinion even. I called my sister (opinion #2), I called my Mom (opinion #3). I made an appointment with another doctor. She can’t see me until September 10th. I can’t think of any reason why I don’t want to have this surgery done except for I don’t want to. Is that a a reason? It counts in my book.

I have been working a lot which is good. I get obsessive about things sometimes. I don’t want to think about surgery. I can’t imagine my kids with their mother recovering from major surgery for ? weeks. I was all ready to go in to this doctor and argue my right to have a tubal ligation even though she practices out of a Catholic hospital. I was fire and brimstone and mad at the pope for thinking that he can make such choices for the masses. It didn’t matter in the end. She wants to take it all out.