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dozen boyfriends that I came in contact with. An alcoholic with brief stays in the psyche ward. Frequently suicidal and diagnosed with physchitzophrenia. She had the habit of keeping me up all night to listen to her talk, fret, cry, explain, apologize, etc. In a language that sounded remotely like English, but not always. This event during much of my childhood taught me to use few words for fear of repeating myself or boring anyone. Listening to this intoxicated woman at all hours of the night, I believe, also contributed to my insomnia and eating disorder. Please don't think that I have bitterness towards my mother. I actually attribute her to the part of my personality and character that I now love. They just seemed to be natural outcomes of the environment. She would buy herself a case of beer and I would ingest a dozen Twinkies or cupcakes. I have to admit, it helped me stay conscience during the bouts of meandering ramble.

I've just confirmed with my most recent therapist, that I have been to see her roughly fifty times. No wonder I'm so god dammed healthywhere's my wine? Really though, I do feel healthy, almost 90% of the time. And that seems like pretty good numbers nowadays. I'm sure it has something to do with the 45 self help books I read while I was in Amway. So I guess my first marriage did come in handy for something. Maybe that's why being a hairdresser was a good fit for me. I was naturally, predisposed from childhood to listen to people. What started out as a career in helping people to look beautiful, turned into sympathizing, empathizing, complaining with or about, and calling most husbands assholes'. Year after year, gossiping earfuls that could fill a lifetime supply of National Enquirer. Everyone wants to complain, unload, and receive a little sympathy. Then I heard this story

There were two neighbors. One had a dog. The dog was howling and howling. So the neighbor finally asked, "What is wrong with your dog?!" The other neighbor replied "Oh, he's just lying on a spike is all". The first neighbor asked, "Well why doesn't he get up and move then?" The owner of the dog replied, "Well it doesn't hurt that bad!"

Point being, that we actually have to do something and not just howl about it. That's when I made up my mind to become the contributor of my life instead of the bystander. Where do I find the time to do something about these looming issues? What was the issue again, I forgot? Oh yes, how to edit my life? How could I possibly have time

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