Tag Archives: addict

A Reflection of Us

We had just recieved the news, my mother had been found dead on her couch by her neighbor and a maintenance man. I had been trying to prepare myself for her death for twenty years but somehow I still felt blindsided by the news. Still in shock and processing the information, we had just received, Scott and I started tossing around questions…what do we do with her things? She wanted to be donated to science. How do we do that? What do we do about a memorial service? Where do we have it? When do we have it? Who will come?

“Wait! Where is her body?”  I asked.

Scott didn’t know the answer to this question. He called the Police Department in the city she lived in and asked them. They didn’t know and said they would find out and call him back.

It was about 11:00 p.m. when Scott came into the bedroom where I was curled up in my bed. He laid down beside me and told me they had found my mother’s body. He told me the name of the funeral home. It felt weird. Not knowing where your mother’s body was and then being told they had found her and then thinking about her body  in a freezer at a funeral home. I knew it wasn’t her. I knew it was just a shell her soul had lived in. I knew she was in Heaven with family who had gone before her. I knew she had been saved years ago and we had talked about some of those things.  Even though she had done bad things, I believed she was in Heaven. When she wasn’t drinking or using she was kind, meek, quiet, thankful, pleasant, funny, anxious, embarrassed and full of guilt. When she was drinking or using she was mean, ugly, hateful, entitled, spewing nastiness, always looking for a fight, confrontational, and aggressive. She was the total opposite of her sober self. And lately, she had been more of the ugly side than kind side.

It reminded me of one of my favorite Native American Proverbs…

A Native American grandfather talking to his young grandson tells the boy he has two wolves inside of him struggling with each other. The first is the wolf of peace, love and kindness. The other wolf is fear, greed and hatred. Which wolf will win, grandfather? Asks the young boy. Whichever one I feed, is the reply.

Mother had been feeding the wrong wolf for a lot of years. I knew she was happier now than she had ever been. I knew she was at peace and that she had a brand new beautiful body. And the truth was, I was also at peace for the first time in a long time. As she became more and more out of control, her behavior escalated. The more she escalated the more my world became disrupted and uneasy. And the more I had to try to keep my sanity and positive outlook.

I would get phone calls multiple times a week from hospitals, neighbors, case managers, life line and police. Sometimes I could get multiple calls in the middle of the night. Then the calls would stop for a week or so. I could always tell when she was on a binge. She was out of control and they didn’t know what to do with her and neither did I. She was of sound mind and could make her own choices. It was everyone else who had to deal with the fall out. When they called I had to tell them, no I can’t come and get her. I had to tell them I lived almost 2 hours away and have 2 boys and a full time job. What am I supposed to do with her? It would make me feel terrible and guilty and sad. But I knew I couldn’t race down there every time I got a call. We had already tried moving her closer and that had been a disaster. I wasn’t going to put my boys, family or myself through that again.

Now, all that had stopped. She was at peace and so was I. I was sad and I cried a lot. My heart ached for what could have been and the sweet stuff she missed out on. I cried for the sweet stuff I missed out on too. But I also knew for the first time in her life she was completely free of all the cravings that had controlled her for most of her life. But it was still weird and sad. My mother’s body had been lost and now it was found at a funeral home I had never heard of.

I went to sleep. I tossed and turned, dreamed and cried.

When I’m going through something tough, I like to be alone. I have to submerge myself in the junk – the ugly and the hard stuff. I have to process, think and try to make sense of things.   I don’t stay there very long because I don’t want to get stuck in the junk. After I have dealt with some of the junk, I dig really deep for the sweet because it’s always there. Sometimes it takes getting out the shovel and digging deep and hard but it’s there. It’s like a diamond in the rough. I can’t get in the junk and do what I need to do with people around me. I have to be alone with no distractions. After a little time by myself, I’m in a much better place. Scott knows this. So he let me have the next day alone to take care of myself and process.

When I woke up the next morning, after Scott and Mason had gone to work and I had taken Madden to school, I started picking up my house before I called the funeral home. I did some laundry, dishes, swept, vacuumed, made the beds, and such. I’m weird like that. It’s a control thing. I know I truly have very little control in this old world so I control the things I can. It makes me feel better for my house to be clean. For me, it’s like having a solid foundation to pour the junk on so I can sort, trash and file away. I know. It’s crazy.

After I was done picking up, I sat down on the couch and looked at the name and the number of the funeral home Scott had left for me. I dialed the number. Someone answered. What a weird feeling. I explained that I believed my mother’s body was there. The guy asked what her name was and said he would check. I thought to myself…”Really? You’re kidding me! Don’t you have a list by the phone so you are prepared and can sound more empathetic?” Instead – I felt like I’d called Wal-Mart to find out if they had a certain item in stock. He got back on the phone, “Yes, she’s here.” I told him I needed some information about donating a body to science. I explained that is what she had wanted. He told me I would have to speak with someone else and they would have to call me back. We hung up.

I waited. The man I needed to speak with returned my call. It sounded like an unenthusiastic uncaring sales call to me and when I explained she wanted to donate her body to science and asked if he could give me any resources or phone numbers, all care when out the door. I also asked about state aid for cremation just in case that’s what I decided to do. Mother had nothing. No money. Nothing. He said there was no money to help with her body. He said if she would have been homeless and didn’t have any family – the county would pay a very small amount of money to dispose of the body but that it actually cost so much more so they lost money. He told me what my cost would be.

It kind of irritated me the way he said it. I asked how my mother’s body had ended up there any way. He didn’t really know but from our conversation I got the impression the Medical Examiner or someone had made the decision to send her to that particular funeral home because they had their own crematory and would be paid the very small amount of money from the county. I got it. I understood their thinking. She was well known in the town with the police and hospitals. I’m sure they thought after my many “no’s” over the last couple of years that no one would claim her body. I made it clear we weren’t doing anything at the funeral home besides cremation if that is what we decided to do – no services, none of that stuff. We would handle that on a much more personal and less formal level.

I spent my time trying to find a place that would accept her body for science like she had wanted. I was unable to find anything. No one would accept the body because she had an infectious disease. Someone managed to tell me about “The Body Farm.” I was mortified by the name and googled it. I was just as mortified after finding out exactly what it was. I know there is a need for it but I certainly wasn’t making that decision.

When Scott got home, I told him I needed to see the body. It isn’t real to me if I don’t. He called the funeral home to arrange it. The guy said he wouldn’t recommend a viewing. Her body was decomposing. That really irritated me. Who was he to tell me what was or wasn’t appropriate for me. I’m sure he wouldn’t recommend a lot of the things I had been through and seen in my life!

I wasn’t sure when she had actually died. The guy at the funeral home said Friday night or Saturday. Which meant she would have died sometime soon after I had last seen her. That was a long time – almost a week now. I started second guessing myself. I know this is super creepy but I asked Scott to see if the funeral home man would send me a picture. That might help. I could view her body by phone and not have to deal with a lot of junk.

We felt really creepy asking such a question. The man said – it really wasn’t as uncommon as you might think. He said he would send one. I was grateful. They hung up.

Scott had my phone. I couldn’t bear to hold it knowing the text notification would be a picture of my mother’s dead body. I knew someone had to look at it before I did. I wasn’t that strong. Madden was standing next to Scott. The text notification came through. I was anxious. They both looked at it and looked concerned. I asked – “Is it bad?” They both nodded yes. I grabbed at the phone and said let me see it. I looked at the picture of my poor mother’s body. She had blood all down the side of her face. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? You can’t even wipe her freaking face! What the hell?? You send a daughter a picture of her dead mother and you can’t even wipe the blood from her face. What is wrong with you? You need a new freaking profession! That’s what I was screaming on the inside. I held it together. Fake it till you make it. I had learned how to do that as a child. Don’t ever let anyone know what you’re really feeling otherwise you might really let your crazy out. Besides, I hate being reactive. It’s another control thing. As the child of an addict, you learn at an early age how powerless you are so you control the things you can. I collected my emotions. I was thankful the man had sent her picture even if they hadn’t wiped the blood. I’m tough. I’m a nurse and I’ve seen numerous dead bodies over my career. I just wished they had treated her body or me with a little more respect. In healthcare, when someone dies. We take care to clean up the body and make it more presentable for the family. But this was different. And I understood.

The guy at the funeral home had told Scott to let him know after he saw the picture if I still wanted to see the body. He repeated that he wouldn’t recommend it. I was irritated after seeing the picture. I told Scott – “You tell that man when I make up my mind we’ll let him know.”

The next morning we (some family members and I) got up and drove the hour and 45 minutes to her apartment to gather the very few personal items she had. A man from the leasing company met us over at the apartment and let us in.

I asked him a few questions. Like – were you the one who found her? He said yes. I asked where he found her. He said on the couch. I asked when and he said Wednesday. He said he was sorry. I appreciated his condolences.

Mother’s place was a mess but that had become the norm. There wasn’t a death smell. There was lots of dried blood. Lots of blood. But that had become the norm as well. She knew she would eventually bleed to death. She would binge drink on vodka. She would bleed heavily for days after. She had told me Friday when we last saw her that she was bleeding. It made my heart heavy but I knew there wasn’t anything I could do. She had been to the hospital many times for this and it was a vicious cycle. She had to quit drinking and she knew it. It wasn’t as easily said as done. She was completely powerless and controlled by this demonic substance. It had a death grip on her. I understood my mother made the choice to drink but I also understood she never chose to be an addict. She never chose to be controlled and powerless. Who would choose a lifestyle like this? No she was a complete slave to those substances. The only way I could have saved her was to lock her in a cage and control where she went and who came to see her. And I’m pretty sure I would have gone to prison.

We gathered papers, wallet, pictures and anything that was personal. Her neighbor and friend came over. She was crying and telling us how much mother meant to her and how much she will miss her. She told me the last time she saw her was on Tuesday afternoon. It was nice to see this lady had truly cared about mother and would miss her. She had been able to see the sweet side of mother. Mother would tell me how her friend would bring her big stuffed baked potatoes and how good they were. I appreciated this lady for showing love to mother.

We found two large bottles of vodka. One was empty the other was almost empty. I poured the remaining vodka down the drain. I knew it was pointless but somehow in my crazy mind it made sense.

We found her stacks and stacks of Library books. We gathered them up and loaded up in the vehicles to return them. Mother always felt the lady at the library was always so kind to her. I appreciated that too. I wanted to make sure the books got returned.

We left her clothes, her toiletries, food and everything behind. We only took her papers, pictures and personal items. Normally I would have cleaned the apartment and not left a mess. But I wasn’t happy with the people she rented from. They didn’t require a background check so people like mother who had been kicked out of numerous places could live there. She had roaches. Her bathtub still hadn’t been fixed from Friday when I had called them. She wouldn’t let me look at it on Friday. I know she was embarrassed and didn’t want Scott and the boys to see it. She just told me it was covered in mold and please call the landlord. So I did. I wished I would have gone in there even though she had asked me not to. I wish I would have cleaned that bathtub myself. But we had been short on time, we were headed to a funeral that day. Everything in her apartment including the furniture which came with the apartment needed to be taken to the dump and burned. No, I didn’t feel too bad leaving all that stuff behind. Scum lords is what I called those type of people. I understood she was difficult and nasty to them, she tore up things, cussed them out. They did rent her a place to live. I wasn’t responsible for mother.  I needed to get out of that scary nasty place. I felt bad but I couldn’t deal with it. Maybe in some crazy way it was payback for them leaving her with an unusable molded shower and roaches.  They were receiving government money and had standards that weren’t meeting. But people like mother were caught between a rock and a hard place and everyone knew it – most of all people like mother.

Scott had already called the funeral home that morning and left a message that we would be stopping by to view the body and pay for the cremation.

When we got there we were taken to his office. The man asked if I was ready and said only one of us could view the body. Seriously? Have you been in this business too long? You are going to send a daughter in to view her mother’s body by herself? “No sir” I said. We are all three going in. My mother’s sister (who took me in as her own), one of my sister cousins (she was my biological cousin but we were raised as sisters) and myself. He tried to argue with me. I went on to tell him – “as far as the body decomposing – that’s not true. I know she didn’t die until sometime between Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday afternoon. Today is Friday.” He knew I wasn’t giving up. He led us to her body. We walked through a dark room full of caskets and when we got to the other side of the room he switched on the light. He took us through a door to a large room that looked like a shop or something. Then we walked over to a metal container. He explained it was the freezer and she was the only one in it. As he put on his rubber gloves, he said I need your word that none of you will sue us for emotional distress because of what you are about to see. Seriously? We all nodded our heads. We walked in – her niece, me and her sister and the funeral home man followed us. There she was. My mother. Lying on a shelf in a cold freezer. The blood was still on the side of her face. Seriously? What is wrong with this funeral home? What is wrong with man? Did it cost extra to get blood wiped off? I wasn’t wanting them to dress the body but show a little compassion and respect. I tried not to be upset. It was only a shell. She wasn’t in that old body anyway. She was at peace, she was with family and had a whole new body.

The man told me not to touch her. I kept staring. After a few seconds, I looked at him and said – “Sorry, but I’m touching her. ” I touched her hand. It was cold. That was my mother. My poor troubled hurt mother was now free. I touched her forehead. We turned to walk out and he instructed me where the bathroom was and suggested I wash my hands. I did. I was disgusted by his behavior. My stomach hurt from the interaction with this man.

I’ve thought about this a lot, the way she lived and the way most people treated her in life and in death. Most treated her in life the same way this man was treating her in death.  But there were also some who were really good to her. They saw her as a person and they treated her with kindness just like they treated everyone else, like she was no less important. She was God’s creation just like everyone else. Sure she had free will and had made poor choices but every day of her life she lived with the consequences of those poor choices. We had to set limits with her – healthy boundaries and say no a lot. There were times I certainly said no a lot more than I said yes. It was exhausting and excruciating to watch and be a part of. She made me mad, cry and disappointed me. But the truth is she was hurting so much more. I tried to keep my sanity but still show love. I failed a lot. I know that’s true. You do as well as you can with what you have.

Addicts are hard and burn a lot of bridges but we should always remember – the ones who are the hardest to love need it the most. Anyone can love the loveable. It’s when we can love and show love to the unlovable that we are doing something special. I’m thankful for kind people like the meals on wheels man, the lady at the library, her case managers, a personal care assistant and people who were there for her when I wasn’t. There will be a special place in heaven for those kinds of people. They treated her with love even though she was sometimes mean and hateful and had nothing to give them. They did it because it was the right thing to do.

Some people haven’t learned that yet. While they may have seen mother as a poor woman who didn’t have much family and not worthy of being treated with care, love, respect and dignity – I saw the funeral home and that man as poor ignorant people  who didn’t have much sense.

The way we treat the difficult people says a lot about our character. The way we treat people is a direct reflection of us not them – another life lesson my mother inadvertently taught me.

Finding the sweet in the crazy!



Written on 4/3/15.

Mother had told me over the last several years she wanted to donate her body to science when she died. Then she would say something funny about things they could study and learn and might find. We’d both laugh at some of the craziness. That’s how we dealt with things – with seriousness and then we’d find the humor in the darkness. We had to laugh through the hard stuff or it got to heavy and we might not make it through.

She said she wanted to be able to do something good – something to help others. I understood.

So yesterday I spent some time making many phone calls to try and honor her wish. I was told over and over again that they couldn’t take her body because of an infectious disease.

Oh the irony – even in death she has had obstacles with doing the good she deeply desired.

One person told me the “Body Farm” might take the body. I was mortified by the name and immediately had this very dark imagine pop in my head. I googled. It was exactly as I’d thought. It was disturbing but interesting. I would still be donating her body to science like she wanted. I called them and asked a few questions. They said they could “possibly” take her depending on some things.

I wrestled with mother’s desire to help others but the only option being something I couldn’t live with. It was to heavy and dark. I saw a parallel with how she lived her life and the “Body Farm.” I could hear some of the things she would be saying about the “Body Farm.” Thinking of her humor lightened the load. Ultimately I decided the body farm wasn’t something I could get okay with – so she will be cremated which was also her wish.

So today we head to her dark little apartment (which should be condemned) to gather the very few personal items and papers she had left in this old world. We will go by the funeral home to finalize the cremation. We’ll argue with the funeral home about my need for closure and need to view the body. They’ll tell me once again they wouldn’t recommend it. All the while, I’ll be thinking – I’m sure there’s a lot of things about where I come from or where she came from – things I’ve seen, heard and lived through that you wouldn’t recommend.

The truth is mother did a lot of good. She just didn’t realize it. Most of it was inadvertent. She taught me the “whys” while others taught me the “hows” of most things. She taught me why I wanted to be the best mom and wife I could be; why I wanted to be there for my kids; why I wanted to work hard; why I needed to be strong; why I needed to avoid certain substances; why I needed to have a good sense of humor; why I needed to be resourceful; why I needed to be kind, loving, empathetic, truthful and respectful; why I needed to hide my crazy; why I always needed to look past the obvious; why I always needed to treat people the same regardless of where they come from or how much money they did or didn’t have; and why I always need to find the good in everything.

She taught me some of the most valuable life lessons and for that I am thankful.

Finding the sweet side of crazy.



She Got Me

she got me

I have six  medium plastic tubs full or partially full of mother’s keepsakes.  That’s it.  That’s all she had.  She was 61 years of age and all she had could be put into six plastic tubs and carted away.

Yesterday,  April 5, 2015 – four days after Mother’s death and my 24th wedding anniversary, I pulled three of those tubs outside and sat under our shade trees in my pajamas with the cool breeze on a beautiful sun filled day and began to look through her things. I was looking for something but I wasn’t sure what exactly. I knew in my heart I’d recognize it when I found it.  It was surreal.

There were two of her Bibles (thank you Uncle Jimmy), books, old letters, and lots of pictures, many papers and such. I skimmed through each and created a trash pile for the junk papers. I picked up a black 3 ring binder filled with papers. The front and back pockets were stuffed with papers. The rings were full of loose leaf lined papers she had written on. There were about 9 pages of her handwritten life story. It was very condensed and to the point. As I kept reading, I realized it was from a recovery program and the year was 2010. I had forgotten she had attended a program about that time. She laid out a condensed timeline of marriages, substance abuse, physical abuse and such. I’m not normally much of a crier except here lately. But as I read, I wept. I could see from her eyes. Which was always important to me. I kept reading and some of it was hard to read but I needed it. I was thankful she left this behind. She even acknowledged lying to me about some usage. This was important for me because there is so much guilt when dealing with an addict. My first thought was always – she’s using or drinking. It was a logical conclusion because of history and her behavior but I always felt terrible falsely accusing or questioning. You feel guilt when you have to use tough love too. You have to do really hard things because you know its best. You feel guilt when you can’t do anymore but save your sanity. She could be really mean.

I read she was dealing with being angry with me for having her placed as an “EOD.” How could I blame her? I’d be mad too. But sometimes you are put in a position where you have to do really hard stuff for the other persons own good. It’s called tough love and it’s tough for all.

I sifted through more papers reading where she would write 5 positive things about herself. This was hard for her. She suffered from a lot of regret and guilt herself. It was nice to read the positive things she could identify about herself. She was a wounded soul.

I sifted more, I found my name! I could hear her. When she was serious or wanted my attention she’d say “Now, Kandy Lyn” really fast. It always made me smile the way she said it. Then I remembered how she’d get mad at Scott and she’d call him “Scotty” in a really mean voice. That always made Scott and I both laugh. He would try to protect me from the craziness and she’d get so mad at him.

I continued to read. There it was! Exactly what I was looking for! She got me. She knew my heart. She knew down deep I tried the best I could.

“Kandy – My daughter, Kandy + I have always been able to tell our feelings to each other except when I’ve been using or drinking. She forgives easily. She knows its the drug + behavior she didn’t like, not the person.  Kandy is intelligent, beautiful inside and out, honest to a “T”, Trustful and compassionate.”

This meant more to me than anything she could have left me that had monetary value. My heart was full! I packed up the rest of her stuff, showered, got dressed and went to be with family for an early Easter dinner.

Life goes on.

Finding the sweet side of crazy!


God’s Perfect Timing

Written on 4/4/15, three days after Mother’s death.

I found out about my mother’s death from my husband instead of finding out from random police officers. One of our lifelong friends was able to give Scott the news. Scott was then able to tell me. Now think about that – our friend “just happened” to be on duty the very day and time the notification came in from the other city’s police department. He “just happened” to receive the information. We “just happened” to recently move from one city we had lived in for the last 20 something years into the city limits where our friend was a policeman which allowed us to receive the information from him. Those things didn’t “just happen.”

Yesterday – I received this text from another beautiful lifelong friend…“Wherever you are and whatever you are doing right this second please know that right now I am praying for you.” We had just pulled up to mother’s apartment. She didn’t “just happen” to send that text at that perfect timing.

Both of these people are some of my (our) best friends. We have been friends with them for more than 30 years. They both know intimate details of my relationship with mother. Both have met her and both have helped me deal with her in very heartbreaking circumstances over the years. God’s perfect timing.

The last time I saw mother was just 5 days before her death. Which is a God Wink in itself. Although I would speak to her multiple times a week, I would go months without seeing her. It was too hard for me emotionally to watch the destruction.

Over the last two years the calls from the ER, ICU, Case Managers, police, neighbors, life line, etc. had all increased dramatically. It was an emotional roller coaster. I knew I was just as powerless as she was. And she truly was completely utterly powerless. Believe me I had tried everything I could possibly think of to save her.

About a year and a half ago on a Friday night Mason and I drove down and picked her up in a very drastic attempt to help. There had been another heartbreaking crazy situation. We brought her to our house in an effort to keep her safe and help improve her living conditions. That lasted exactly 4 days. I had never bought her alcohol in my life. But this time, I knew if I didn’t buy her alcohol and we didn’t ration it out in small doses – she’d most definitely go into life-threatening withdrawals. So I did. I totally went against my own rule and drove to the liquor store to buy her the very thing that I knew would eventually kill her. All in an effort to save her life. That is some heavy stuff….And it didn’t work.

That Monday evening after a baseball game, she had already walked around our neighborhood – going door to door until she found someone to take her to the liquor store. By the time I got home she was completely out of her mind. This was complete craziness! That was when I was hit in the back of the head with a frying pan – I realized there wasn’t anything I could do to save her except pray for her. If I continued, I’d only end up losing myself. I had 2 boys and a husband who needed me and I needed to be there for them. So from that day forward my goal was to do my best to let her know she was loved and try to somehow add sweetness to her very sad life while also protecting myself from the crazy.

Doing love and setting healthy boundaries can be so difficult. I wanted my boys to be able to get a different glimpse of my mother. I didn’t want them to see her as bad person or think less of her. I wanted them to see the sweetness that got lost in the ugliness. I wanted them to know we have a predisposition to becoming this very thing. I wanted them to know she loved them the very best she could. I wanted them to know she was more than her mistakes. Just as we all are.

Anyway – 5 days before her death, we “just happened” to be going to a funeral in the town she lived in. So, I called mother several days before to let her know we were coming. I always gave her several days warning so she had enough time to get herself together before we came. That notification requirement was the result of a very hard lesson which involved my boys. So since that lesson – I always gave the notification. While we were at Walmart picking up the items she needed, we “just happened” to get her an Easter basket and fill it with some goodies and some tulips. I had never bought her an Easter basket before and thought it might be something she would enjoy. As we left that day, mother asked me to call her rental company to let them know her shower wasn’t working. After the funeral, I called her back and asked for the number of the rental company so I could call for her. That was the last time I spoke to my mother.

After she died I found out her case manager went to see her soon after we had left that Friday. Mother was proudly showing him the Easter basket and telling him that we had just been there. I am so thankful we went that day.

I am so thankful for God’s perfect timing. I am so thankful for everything I have been protected and saved from. I am thankful for all the thoughts, prayers, family and friends I have been blessed with. I am thankful for all those who took care of mother when I couldn’t. I am thankful for all of those who took care of me when she couldn’t. I am thankful for God’s grace, love and forgiveness.

For all of you who are personally dealing with this terrible disease – I pray for you and your family. Do the best you can do with the best you have. Always look for the good. It’s there I promise. What you look for is what you’ll find.

Find the sweet side of crazy.




You Should Start A Blog!

That’s what I heard. So I did it! It only took me a bazillion years. Alright, not exactly! Only about 14 hours. But hey, who’s counting?

Did you know you could learn most anything on YouTube? It’s true!

I listened to a YouTube video about how to start a blog on my long drive yesterday. I love YouTube Videos. It was great and the guy made it seem somewhat simple. Did I mention I am technologically challenged? I had to buy a domain, purchase a host and a platform. Something like that anyway. I had to google just to get a little understanding.

My guys (husband and 2 sons) were gone hunting and fishing last night. That gave me time all to myself to dedicate to creating the blog. I could do this! I hoped.

I started last night around 8:00 p.m. and worked on it until about 9:30 last night. The YouTube video said at a certain point I’d have to stop for 2 – 4 hours so something I didn’t understand could happen. So when I got to that point, I stopped, jumped in the shower and went to bed. I’d finish it in the morning.

At 3:00 a.m. I woke up. I tossed and I turned. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I decided to check on my blog progress. It had been more than 4 hours and I was excited to see my accomplishment.

Dang! Something was wrong. I messed with it and messed with it. No luck. I called the host company. It was 3:15 in the morning! The tech support wasn’t very helpful. I’m sure my starting out with…”Hello, I watched this YouTube video about starting your own blog and I’m having problems” didn’t help and it was 3:15 in the morning. I could hear what was coming out of my mouth as I was talking to this technology guru. I knew I sounded a little crazy. The guy said “What is your domain name?” I paused. Holy cow! Why did I choose THAT domain name? Now I really feel crazy! I stated, “Sweet Side of Crazy.” I was a little embarrassed and giggled on the inside. He didn’t laugh. He looked at my information and told me all this technical stuff. I told him I didn’t really understand and as far as I was concerned it sounded like he was speaking Spanish. That didn’t go over so well. He repeated it again. Still Spanish. I said “let me teach back to make sure I understand” because that’s what we do as nurses. I honestly thought he might see what a poor job he was doing of helping me. It certainly wasn’t me and my YouTube education. I tried to repeat what he said. Yeah, I didn’t get it and he didn’t get that he wasn’t doing a good job. I was kind of mad at the YouTube guy. He recommended this company.

The guy on the phone told me I should call the company I purchased the domain from. I asked him if he could at least send me an email with instructions or something. He said he would. We hung up.

I checked my email and opened what he sent me. No attachments. Just a link that I couldn’t click on. I had to copy and paste into the browser. Error message. Well, that wasn’t helpful. I emailed him back and told him so. It made me feel better. Oh nice, another email. His company sent me a survey. Two questions and I answered both. They didn’t score so well.

I called the company I purchased the domain from. The guy was much nicer. By this time it was almost 4:00 a.m. Thank goodness. Maybe I wouldn’t sound so crazy. I did. I repeated the same information as I did to the first company. This guy was nice and helpful. He didn’t speak a foreign language to me. He actually walked me through it and corrected my issue. I’m thankful for nice helpful people. And by the way – the domain company also hosts so needless to say – I switched companies.

Hooray for nice helpful people! I liked that nice guy!

That was only the beginning. Hours and hours and hours later – Happy Blogging! I think.