Do Nice Guys Really Finish Last?

I've heard this whine so many times it makes my head spin around on my shoulders like I'm possessed by evil spirits whenever someone says it to me now.  So many men think they have to be assholes if they want a woman in their lives because "Women don't like nice guys, they like jerks."  That one irks me too.

Here's how it happens (or at least here's how it has always played out in my life).  Woman meets man.  He is kind, thoughtful and considerate.  He volunteers (or so he says) he goes to church, he has 7 kids to raise by himself because his slut wife left him, his parents were abusive and he either has deep emotional scars that he needs Woman to help him heal, or he hates everyone in the world besides Woman...It all depends on the guy really, but that's the general scenario.  He wins Woman's affection, by being kind to her and/or telling her the horrifying tales of his past.  She thinks he's a sweet guy (meaning NICE) and decides to give him a chance, and things are great for a while.  THEN, he decides if he wants to keep her, he better start treating her like crap because women don't REALLY like nice guys.

The reality is, if you have this line of thinking, you are pretty self-absorbed and you probably aren't as much of a nice guy as you think you are.  How many women have you gotten involved with by being kind and thoughtful in the beginning?  Are you even aware that you morph into some other person after you've been with someone a while?  We don't fall for jerks.  We fall for men who we believe are GOOD men, and then they BECOME jerks.  What was that you said?  Women become Bitches?  Yes, we do at times.  Some women are bitches, just like some men are really jerks and nothing will change that.  But if you got involved with a woman you KNOW is a good person and she suddenly starts acting bitchy, it's probably something you said--or did or didn't do that you should have done.

I actually told a guy very recently that he was a nice guy.  He reacted as if I just called him an ugly name.  "I'm not a nice guy!" he said.  "Nice guys finish last and I'm not going to finish last."  That was the beginning of him becoming a jerk to me.  I stuck with him though, believing the best of him despite the evidence to the contrary.

Here's what women want: A companion.  That means someone to talk to, do things with, cuddle with, make love with, hang out and do nothing with.  We want someone who is on our side, who will stand with us through thick or thin.  We, just like you, want someone we find attractive yet not conceited.  Just so you know, when I say "someone we find attractive" that doesn't mean you have to look like Brad Pitt, but at least bathe, do something with your hair and wear something besides ragged T-shirts and jeans once in a while. Just as you don't like the idea of a fat woman, we don't like the idea of a fat man, but the difference is, if we truly love you, we will love you despite your imperfections and even if you are fat or get fat, we'll hang in there with you because we care about you.

Your nice-guys finish last mantra will always defeat you.  Every time you feel like you're starting to fall for a woman, you'll start acting like an asshole.  You might not even be aware that you're being an asshole, but you are.  You stop calling, you stop being considerate, you stop acting like you care, and then she catches on to your attitude and she changes how she behaves towards you.  She wants the "nice" you to come back, but the harder she tries to get back to the YOU she fell for, the less of that person you are, until finally she gives up and goes looking elsewhere for what she wants--and you think, "I knew it.  Nice guys always finish last."

Bob tripped over his enormous ego during the last leg of the race

On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have the "nice guy" who calls too much, expects too much of your time, and smothers the daylights out of you.  He seems like a nice guy, but his insecurity drives you crazy.  Love is not insecure.  It is confident because real love doesn't depend on the response you get from another person.  Love isn't knowing that someone else is always thinking about you or needing to be near you at all times.  Love is something you give without regard for what you get in return.  If you're obsessing over a woman, you aren't in love with  her. You are trying to soothe yourself by having her reassure you that you are loved.  You aren't being a "Nice Guy" showing his love, you're being a self-absorbed insecure BAD GUY.  Self-absorption will trip you up every time.

So, to all of you REAL nice guys out there who think you'll never find a good woman I say, check up on yourself before you blame women for "crapping on you" because you're nice.  Are you really a nice guy or do you just think you are because you're not getting what you want from life?  I have no doubt that there are really some nice men out there. I say that with a lot of hope and even a tad of faith because I've yet to meet any of you.  If I ever do meet a nice guy, I hope he'll be single and emotionally available as well, but to be quite honest, I'm growing weary of looking for you.

Be who you are.  Don't adjust your personality based on what you believe you have to do to hang onto someone. Who ever said life was a race anyway?  So what if you do "come in last?"  The point is to finish the race and to be at peace with who you are.  Life is a journey not a competition.  Try not to be a sore loser when things don't go your way, just keep your nice little head up and keep moving forward.  You'll finish the race in time, and even if you don't get there before all your friends, you'll be right where you're supposed to be, just when you're supposed to be there.

Here's to Nice Guys everywhere.  May you finish.

Back to Me

I got a new CD for Christmas.  It's a Neil Young CD, with lots of the songs that got me hooked on Neil to start with,a few years ago, and a couple I've never heard before.  It's strange how I have felt so out of my element lately, like I'm just feeling my way around, really unsure of what I should do next and even of who I am.  When I put the CD in my computer and settled down on my couch to relax I had no idea that his voice coming from these speakers would make me feel so at home in my own skin.

The first song I listened to was "Bad Fog of Loneliness".  It's a song I had forgotten about; but a song that truly describes me and the situation I'm in.  I listen to it and remember my resolve, only a few months ago, that I was meant for singleness and that I was determined to be at peace with my destiny.  I guess the loneliness got to me though--a bad fog of it that led me to make bad decisions for myself, like getting re-involved with a man that I knew couldn't, wouldn't and probably shouldn't love me.  I let myself get comfortable with his company instead of getting comfortable with my alone-ness.

After several days of not communicating with him at all, I struggle again with the pain of being forgotten--being used up and tossed aside again. Although I'm not surprised by it all, I am still sad and disappointed in him.  I remind myself that this is who he is: distant, cut-off from the world, emotionally, and sometimes, downright mean.  He's also the sweet man I came to love at some point, but in loving the sweetness of him, I must also accept the ugliness and love him despite it.  I must love him from a safe distance and never let him get a hold on me again.  It's not healthy for me or for him, the way things have been lately and I know we are both better off apart than we would be together if things must stay the way they've been lately.  I have no desire to hold him back and I don't intend to let him drag me down anymore.  I know I'm doing the right thing to keep my distance, but it is so hard to not reach out to him somehow.

It is my nature to want to keep the peace.  I almost always cave to the other person's wishes in order to avoid conflict.  This time though, I have to be strong and let this discord be.  I can't take any more insults from him: He doesn't even seem to realize how insulting he can be at times, perhaps because he doesn't understand that I value his opinion about things.  If you value someone else's point of view, it cuts into your soul when they criticize you or tell you you aren't good enough.  I know he's only one person in my world, who used to be in my world, but he's been pretty important to me.

I just keep praying that I will learn to love the way God intends for me to love.  I keep practicing the letting-go part of loving in hopes that it will eventually become natural to me to love without holding on too tightly.  I keep reminding myself that love is not something I do for myself, it is a gift I give to those God has blessed me with.  I shouldn't expect anything from anyone, I should just love.  I think if I ever get that right, everything else will likely fall into place and I will find the peace and contentment I crave.


I'm thankful for my new CD.  I'm happy about getting reacquainted with a part of myself that I have neglected for a long time--a part of myself that I really like.  Oh, and lest I forget, I'm thankful for Neil...maybe someday I'll get to hang out with him and we can swap stories.  Wouldn't that just be the coolest thing ever??  I think so.

The Life-Line

Today I stayed in bed for a long time.  I wasn't feeling particularly depressed, no more than usual anyway, I just couldn't find a reason to get up.  My boy was happily playing in his room and I had Netflix playing on my TV, but I wasn't really watching.  I dozed off a few times--lay there wishing I could just sleep, sleep, sleep, but sleep wouldn't really overtake me.  I was left with the sound of the TV, my thoughts drowning out the dialogue, making me wish for a panacea, a comfort of some kind that seemed unattainable.

I sat in my bed staring at the spot where the tube comes out of my abdomen.  It seemed unreal to me, that I was looking at my own body.  My eyes followed from where the tube exits my skin, across my abdomen to where it is taped to my other side to keep it up and out of the way.  I thought about the machine sitting by my bed, the clicking and ticking, the beeping of it all night long while I try to sleep, and I suddenly remembered:  This is how my life is supposed to be.

I spent a year of my life mourning what I came to understand I would never have again, but somewhere along the way, after spending so much time with him, I forgot how unreasonable it is of me to expect anyone to ever sign up  to join me in the struggle that is my life. I got so used to having his companionship that I came to depend on it, but I never should have.  It is unfair of me to ask anyone to be my companion, unfair to ask anyone to look at this tube in my belly every day or lie beside me at night while the machine hums at my bedside and I curl up in a ball of pain each time it empties my belly.  It is unreasonable of me to expect anyone to want me, with all the troubles I bring.

I know I'm not a bad person.  I know there are many who love me and show me their love at every opportunity.  I know that without my disease my life would be easier.  I know that if I had no children, I would be more appealing as a partner.  I'm not saying I would ever change the fact that I am a mom--in fact, my children are all I have.  I must believe that they are also all I need, since God gave them to me and made them a part of who I am.  I wish it weren't too much to ask that someone give me the kind of friendship I crave, but the truth is, it is too much to ask and it is selfish of me to expect it from anyone.

 It seemed so cruel to me the other day, when he said my illness didn't "earn me any points" with him.  It made me so hurt, so sad to hear those words from him--from someone whom I wanted to believe cared about me and understood that this disease is something over which I have no control.  I didn't abuse my body and cause this problem, it just is.  I've had it since long before I even knew it was ravaging my kidneys. It seemed so unfair of him to judge me so harshly for something I cannot change and would never wish upon myself in the first place.  When I put myself in his shoes though, I can understand his point of view.  When I look at me from where he stands, I see a terribly selfish person and I feel ashamed of myself for expecting anyone to take the kind of risk it would take to love me.  Who wants to sign up for a life of watching the person they love suffer through such an illness--always fearing that I'm about to die?  Who wants to go from not being responsible for anyone but himself, to feeling responsible for me and my child--even though in my eyes, I alone will always be responsible for caring for my family, even if I were in a relationship.

The way I see it, my kids are my joy, my responsibility, my pleasure to care for.  They are a joy and a responsibility which I never want to pass on to someone else.  However, I'm a sick person and someday, maybe sooner than I realize, I may not even be here to carry out my duty to them.

I'll never lie about it:  I do miss the friendship.  I miss the affection, the opportunity to call and have him answer.  I miss the laughter, someone to do things with, even the fact that we get on each other's nerves sometimes.  I miss it all, but I know it was never mine and I know that I am not meant to have it, not with him and not with anyone else.  This is just the way it is.  This is the life that was chosen for me, and this is yet another thing over which I have no control.

I don't know if I'm supposed to have another chance at life.  Maybe a transplant is in my future, maybe it isn't.  Maybe, just maybe, my life has already been lived and all there is left for me now is the waiting to die. It really seems that way right now, and not just because I'll never have a partner again.

I'm on the verge of losing my home.  I'm on my last week of Unemployment.  I have NO income after this week--last I checked, you can't really make it in this world without money.  I don't even have anything to offer my children besides my love, and love is frequently not enough to meet the needs of a growing child who needs clothing, food and shelter.

I am alone in this: and I am where I am supposed to be.  For me, it is merely a matter of acceptance at this point.  Maybe lying in bed all day is what I need for now.  Perhaps lying there, letting it all soak in, is the best thing for me.  I really don't know anymore, but it seems so pointless to do anything else when the only thing it seems there is left for me is waiting for this all to end.  

My gratefulness for those who truly love me is overwhelming.  I know people care, but no one will ever walk this path with me.  It is a harsh reality for me to accept.  It is a heart breaking realization to let my alone-ness sink-in.  I want to fight it, but I know that by fighting what I cannot change, I merely succeed in frustrating and hurting myself more.

So I am working hard on letting go of my hopes and dreams.  I am working hard to accept what God gives me with a grateful heart; working to release my hold on what I think I need and instead reach only for what God puts within my grasp.  I am praying that He will help me love others as they need to be loved, instead of seeking to have them love me the way I want to be loved.  I am trying to love without letting my own ego--my own agenda--get in the way.  I want to learn to love others in a way that brings them joy, even if doing so leaves me without the love I crave in return.  I'm trying to constantly remind myself that loving is a self-less act, not a thing I should do for someone else in order to get something in return.  I have decided to set my desires aside, set this man aside, and love him from a distance.  This is a true test of my own ability to love without concern for myself and it is not easy.  I can only accomplish this kind of love through prayer, for I have no strength of my own on which to stand for this task.  It is by God's grace alone that I can learn to love in this way.  It is only He who can heal my heart from this brokenness; only He who can rebuild my spirit into the kind of being that is able to reach out to others with love that is truly altruistic.  I want to give my heart without regard to self, while still doing what is right for me.  It is a lot like walking a tightrope strung from the highest mountain over a raging river filled with sharp rocks.  It is so frightening at times that I can't look down--only straight ahead, and keep putting one foot in front of another.  It is a balancing act consisting of holding on and letting go at the same time and at the end of this terrifying trip, I still have no idea where I will end up.

Just as this tube from my belly is the life-line for my Earthly being, this tightrope of self-less love is the life-line for my soul.  It is the only thing that keeps me moving forward, even in times when I am without hope.  It gives me something to reach for; it is my only path to renewal, it is my only chance at finding peace in this life.

"...The reason for living was to get ready to stay dead for a long time." -- Addie Bundren in Faulkner's As I Lay Dying.

The Most Depressing Christmas Song EVER

Every year, I hear it and every year I think, "I should look up the lyrics to this and really break it down."  "Maybe," I think," it isn't as gloomy as it sounds when you just pick out a few phrases here and there".  Well, today when I got home from picking up Charlie, I looked it up.  The song is called "Feed The World".  You've heard it, but you probably think it's called, "Do They Know It's Christmastime?"

Here are the lyrics and a break-down of why they suck and/or essentially make no sense.

"Do They Know It's Christmas" (Band Aid 20 version)

It's Christmastime
There's no need to be afraid--I strongly disagree with this statement.  Have y'all watched the news lately?  I know we don't live in a third world country, but come on?  I seriously am afraid every morning of the year when I drop my kid off at school because kids are getting shot at school all the time lately.  And need I mention robberies, rapes or murders that are plastered all over the headlines every day?  Oh wait, nobody's thinking of those because they're all worried Phil Robertson's opinion of black people and gay people is really going to have an impact on the world somehow....I digress.  Let's continue with the song.

At Christmastime
We let in light and we banish shade
And in our world of plenty
We can spread a smile of joy
Throw your arms around the world
At Christmastime

But say a prayer
Pray for the other ones--Oh, don't forget about the "other ones."  You know, those people who don't have enough food, water shelter--the basic stuff you take for granted every day because:
At Christmastime it's hard--But it's not so bad being poor the rest of the year.
But when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dread and fear--Wait, I thought there was no need to be afraid?  What's with all the dread and fear?  Come on, it's CHRISTMAS, y'all!
Where the only water flowing
Is the bitter sting of tears--Okay, since this song is about drought and famine in Africa, I'll give them that there's not much water flowing in the form of rain or rivers.  However, I doubt if there are THAT many tears.  I mean, can you really cry that much when you're really dehydrated?
And the Christmas bells that ring there
Are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you--I don't have time to Google it, but I'm not at all convinced that Christmas Bells are a common theme in Africa.  They actually aren't even that common anywhere anymore, but what the heck are "The Clanging Chimes of Doom?"  I wasn't a band geek, but I don't remember those in the percussion section at all.  Additionally, all I can say is, if you look at suffering people and say, "Thank God its them and not me!"  you're the biggest jerk in the world.  Really.  
And there won't be snow in Africa
This Christmastime--There won't be snow in South Carolina either, but we won't miss it.  I doubt if Africa will be very troubled by the lack of a white Christmas.
The greatest gift they'll get
This year is life--Duh, isn't that the greatest gift ANYONE can EVER get?
Where nothing ever grows
No rain nor rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmastime at all--Well, I'm not sure.  I suppose it would depend on whether or not they know about Christ, or believe in Christianity, or even CARE that it's a Christian holiday?  And seriously, when you're suffering, you're suffering.  Christmastime or not, suffering sucks.
Here's to you
Raise a glass for everyone--Seriously, don't you know there are thirsty people in Africa?  How insensitive.
Spare a thought this yuletide for the deprived
If the table was turned would you survive
Here's to them--Because toasting the poor with some bubbly really helps.  It helps a lot, folks.
Underneath that burning sun
You ain't gotta feel guilt just selfless--But your donation will mean so much more if you make it out of a guilt-laden heart filled with self-loathing and bitterness.  
Give a little help to the helpless--But not too much help, remember, "Give a man a fish..."
Do they know it's Christmastime at all

Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world.....etc....

(This song, performed by Band Aid 20, features Bono on vocals and can be found on the Do They Know It's Christmas 20 single)

Ah.  I feel better now because I'm sure this is a bad song.  It's just bad.  I hope they were at least able to raise a bunch of money with it though.  It would be a shame to waste all this awfulness on the world and not get any benefit from it.  I know it was meant for good, but really, for a Christmas song, it's just, well...bad.

Go Fund Me

Over the last couple of days I've received donations on my Go Fund Me site from people I don't really know.  It's sort of unsettling that so many people are reading my thoughts and getting to know me so personally--personally enough to want to send me money to help pay for a new kidney.  

I just want to say thanks to all of them, and to all the people who haven't been able to give financially but who have shared my story with others.  I'm so aware that many other people in the world are suffering and in need of help right now, therefore I am even more humbled and grateful for your thoughtfulness and generosity.

My life is a bumpy road right now.  Nearly everything is uncertain, from my living situation to whether or not the lights stay on next month....Will I get a transplant?  Will I find a job?  Will I forever be alone?

As human beings, we love certainty.  We love knowing our cars are going to start when we turn the keys, we love knowing the lights are going to come on when we flip a switch.  We take for granted that our hearts will keep beating and our organs will keep working until we have done all those things in life we want to do.  When everything is uncertain though, you are a like that white feather in the wind at the beginning of Forrest Gump.  Blown here and there, going with the flow, letting life happen to you to some degree, rather than making things happen.  It isn't that I'm not trying to make things happen, it's just that they aren't happening yet.  Sooner or later, I'll have to settle down though, right?  Maybe I'll figure some things out and be able to have something of a "normal" life--normal for me anyway.  Maybe someday, something will again be certain.

Maybe my disease is a gift.  Maybe it's a chance to start over again.  Right now it feels as if I'm loosing everything, but maybe I'm gaining things I can't see yet.  Maybe.  I can only hope.

We walked down the path, not touching one another, except for once in a while, when one of us (usually me) would get a little off balance.  The dog behaved well, we said hello to other walkers, moved out of the way of bicyclists, and once in a while we spoke.

There's always been heavy air around us wherever we are, even walking down a breezy fall pathway filled with color.  It's the heaviness of the unspoken but understood that, I think, makes us both kind of sad.  I mused at the bright yellow leaves that had been plastered to the asphalt by the rain, noticed some pretty purple wildflowers, which I pointed out to him, and tried to tease a little, to lighten the air.

The air is heaviest in bed, where we are lying so close, yet so very far away from each other, knowing the temporal nature of our comfort with one another.  Even with the heaviness though, we must both somehow justify the risk or we wouldn't be there.

It gets to me though...the heaviness, I suppose because I know the heaviness of loss so well.  I know that losing someone doesn't lighten your burden in life, it adds to it and I've had so much loss that it has become my biggest fear that I won't make it through another one.  What if the next one is the last straw and I lose my mind--end up in an institution playing with dolls and calling everyone I see "Naomi".  I knew someone who did that once.

I'm a smart girl.  I know stuff.  I know nothing about relationships, friendships, whatever, that are by design, temporary from the get-go.  Even at summer camp when you left, you promised to keep in touch with that best friend or that boy you met and kissed behind the pool when no one else was around.  Even then, when you knew you'd lose touch, in the time you spent together, you were together--you were a team--friends to the end!  So I don't get the "for now" attitude, unless you're the kind of person who doesn't emotionally attach to others.

And the thought of that makes me feel like the air is super heavy.  Hard to breathe even, to think of someone who is unable to attach to anyone at all on a meaningful level.  On a level where you want to give as much or more than you get from the other person, and on a level where you don't even want to think about the day when things change or end, or loss comes knocking at your door.  And it makes the air heavy because I'm afraid I'm the only person left who values such things anymore.  Surely someone is out there who thinks having a pair of arms to come home to is more valuable than the largest plasma TV you can buy for your living room, or a brand new truck, or...whatever...But he is sure hard to find if he exists--and isn't a psycho of some variety.

We walked back to the car faster than we walked away from it.  I could barely keep up and I felt embarrassed because of that, because I used to walk faster than him.  I kept up though and we made it back, hot and tired and a little irritable for some reason.  The dog was too excited, and we were arguing a little about another one of those insignificant things that's really meaningless in the long run.  Things settled down though, and we eventually made ourselves comfortable in the heaviness around us and made the most of the moments we shared.

To me, the heaviness is almost too much to carry, and to him, I don't think it's worth hanging onto.  So, I suppose we are both on the cusp of letting it go--the heaviness and each other.  It will be a relief to be rid of one burden, but with the other loss, comes a new burden of its own for me, and I hope I can bear it.

The Thread

I always fall asleep on my left side.  I suppose it's been that way all my life.  Sometimes, I toss and turn--must lie on the right side, must lie on my back for a few minutes, but always, I end up on my left side clinging to that one thought that gives me peace of mind and calmness of spirit.  Even in the worst of times, there has been the tiniest of thread of hope connecting my heart and mind, a cord of assurance that no matter what, I will be okay and things will work out just fine.

Lately though, I lie awake at night, unable to still my mind or my body and searching desperately for that one tiny thread that seems to have all but disappeared.  My friends pray for me.  They tell me that they love me and remind me that God loves me too.  I know they are sincere; they show me in so many ways that I am important to them and that they genuinely care about what happens to me.  But they can never know how horribly Alone I am when I lie with my thoughts of what is happening to me.

 Alone has become the only thread I can find.  Day and night, it dangles from my mind and sometimes tugs at my heart so fiercely that I put my hand over my chest to make sure it doesn't get pulled right out.  Alone isn't the same as lonely.  I am familiar with lonely, as I'm sure every human being has been at some time.  There are people all around me, but no one who truly understands the turmoil in my soul.  I want to tell someone about it, but I don't know how.  I want someone to see inside me and know that I have fear and unhealed wounds and even shame, but I'm afraid to show them all the unseemly bits that reside at my core.  If they see that much of me, maybe they'll think I deserve to be Alone.

Alone is the deepest, darkest well of silence where no matter how loud you scream, no one is going to hear you. It's when you open up your heart to someone and spill your very soul and all you hear back is the echo of your own despair. You keep thinking that someone, God perhaps, will send down a rope and pull you up, but the rope never comes.  You can try to climb out all by yourself,  but Alone is a slippery place and if you aren't careful, you'll slide so far down in its pit that you may never be able to escape.  After a while, you get hoarse from all the hollering and you tire from all the struggling--the climbing and plotting to escape, and you just give up.  Instead of looking up out of that hole into the sunlight, you retreat, let the coldness of the water cover you over and fill you up so there's no more Alone to feel.

If only we all felt safe enough to shed our pride and truly invite another in, Alone might cease to exist.  It is our own fear that holds us hostage, locked inside our darkness, while somewhere outside us there is something--someone willing to take Alone's place.  Could there be something or someone out there who has the needle and the thread, just waiting to mend us back together? How do you know when it is safe to leave your heart and mind in the hands of someone else--they could just dangle that string in front of you long enough to let you reach for it, and pull it from you just when you start to Trust.  It's a chance we all have to take at some point it seems, but Trust can be even scarier than Alone.

A couple of times recently, I have spoken with friends about Faith.  Faith in God and Faith in man.  When I was younger, I memorized the Biblical meaning of it--"The substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen."  I urged one friend to try to have a little Faith that opening up and letting people see the inside just a little could be a good thing.  I assured the other of my own Faith in God and my faltering belief in myself.

I have figured out that when you are trapped in the dungeon of Alone, Faith, Hope and Love seem quite impossible to find, even though they might be hovering all around you.  Hope gets replaced by fear, Faith gets blotted out by doubt, and Love just starts to bounce off those thick barricades you've built around your heart.  For a while, all you feel is turmoil boiling in your belly, roiling up through your soul until you think your mind will explode; but then, after a while, you just sink into yourself and become the very well into which you've fallen.

So how do I get myself out of this hole?  I've considered reaching for that thread even though I can't see it.  I don't know what will happen though.  Maybe it will be there and I can grab-hold, roll over onto my left side and drift peacefully off to sleep.  I think though, that until I learn to Trust, every thread I pull will only unravel and leave me with a pile of useless string at my feet and a heart filled with disappointment.

I try to pray, but I don't know how to pray without being able to Trust.  I don't know how to have Hope when I seem to have so little Faith.  I don't know how to receive Love if receiving it means leaving my heart in someone else's hands.  Without meaning to, I push everyone away and I embrace the very thing I loathe: Aloneness. I let it lie beside me at night and I carry it with me throughout the day.  Sometimes I come close to letting it go, but I always seem to sabotage whatever comes my way to banish it.

I don't want to be this way anymore.  I don't want Alone.

They keep telling me God is with me, but I don't feel God.  I feel like the thread that once tied me to Him has been severed, that He doesn't care or even know I exist.  In the grand scheme of things, I can't even believe I would ever matter to Him.  And there, I suppose is the beauty of it all--of life itself, I mean; that even though I don't feel Him, and even though I doubt Him, he is still there loving me anyway.  He's skillfully directing my path, even when I'm in this darkest of places, feeling so full of Alone that I can't feel anything else.  It isn't Aloneness, Faith, Hope or even Love that keeps me steady on my feet even though I feel so orphaned and discouraged.  Grace is the only thread left for me to grasp. I will cling to it because, right now, it is all I have and ultimately, it will be enough.


2 Corinthians 12:9 "And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

Good Kidneys are Expensive These Days...

My incredibly adorable kids

Whole outfit from Goodwill...Really!

 As most of you realize, I'm just your average gal with a mortgage, a cute kid, two beautiful daughters and lots of thrift shop clothes,
because I can't exactly afford the new fancy ones from Wal-Mart.  Most of you also know that I'm pretty okay with all that, and could continue my life quite happily driving my quirky used car and giving myself homemade haircuts, but I have these two kidneys that just want to rain on my parade. What's a girl to do?

Well, for one, I went a couple of months ago and got this nifty tube placed in my belly.  It helps me connect to a machine called a Cycler, which I hook up to every night before I go to sleep.

Seriously, this was the most expensive accessory I ever purchased

The Cycler pumps a special kind of solution called Dialysate into my Peritoneal Membrane, where the solution  (2000ml) sits for an hour and a half or so at a time, filtering out the impurities in my blood. (I know this would be a good place for one of you to take a humorous jab at me, so go ahead if you need to.)  Then the solution that sat there for all that time drains out, and my belly gets filled up again.  This happens four times throughout the night and takes about 9 hours to complete.  I have to do this every single night.  If I stop, I'm pretty much pushin' up daisies in a couple weeks or so.

This is the Cycler that adorns my bedside table...so much for candles... 

The positive aspects of Peritoneal Dialysis are that I don't have to go to a clinic three times a week, my blood never leaves my body, and I don't have to deal with the fluid and dietary restrictions that most people on dialysis have to deal with.  

Extra Closet, huh?

The negative side:  it won't work forever.  Also, it is kind of painful sometimes, and well, that belly-tube isn't exactly the newest fashion fad--although I manage to hide it under my clothes pretty well.  This type of dialysis does allow me more freedom that I would have if I had to go with Hemodialysis, and for that I am thankful, but it does require lots of planning ahead if I go on a trip.  I have to use 2, 6000 liter bags of dialysate every night.  These come delivered to my door in boxes.  Boxes which take up a lot of room in my "extra" closet.  This seriously limits my thrift shop experiences--whether or not I have $20.00 in my pocket (which lately, I rarely do).

copious amounts of garbage

I really cannot leave out the fact that I produce copious amounts of garbage every week from all the tubing and empty solution bags and empty boxes I have to throw out.

That is where I am now, adjusting quite well I might add to the experience of being kept alive by an annoying beepy machine that only wants me to lie on my back or left side to sleep.  But hey, at least I have enough energy to do more than lie on the couch watching Netflix all weekend now!

Dialysis is expensive.  I have private insurance through my former employer, for which the National Kidney Foundation is paying the COBRA premiums.  This insurance is basically useless, because they consider my Renal Disease to be Pre-Existing.  It will not cover anything kidney-related until after March 2014 and will expire in January 2015.  That leaves me with 20% of the cost of everything Medicare will not cover while I am on Dialysis.

In the long run, I will need a Kidney Transplant.  Scary words, even to me--and especially so after learning how much a new kidney will cost me, both in time and in money.  The average kidney transplant costs around $75,000.00, not including the pre-transplant healthcare maintenance, or days/weeks of staying at a hotel in Charleston to be near the Transplant Center at MUSC.  There's also the time I'll miss from work during my assessments, transplant and subsequent follow up. I will be out of work for at least 6 weeks, if not longer.   I mean, really , somebody's gotta keep a roof over my kid's head and at least for that amount of time, it's looking like it won't be me.  

According to MUSC, if a person only has Medicare at the time of Transplant, she can expect to pay about $5000.00 just the first month after transplant for medications and follow up care.  That's AFTER Medicare pays it's 80%.  Also, I will owe 20% of all the other charges not covered by Medicare.  That's about 20K just for the transplant and the first month's check ups and medications.  This amount doesn't include the hotel stay in Charleston for me and my caregiver, who will be required to stay with me 24/7.  If I find a living donor, the costs soar even more.  

I'm not sure if I'm covering everything here, it is all quite overwhelming.  However, I am getting to a point, so bear with me.  The folks from MUSC have encouraged me to reach out to my friends and family and ask for volunteers to help me fund raise.  I have a general aversion to asking for help that has influenced me my whole life, so doing this is not easy for me.  After all-  I'm the problem solver, ya know?  

There is an Organization called National Foundation for Transplants where people can donate money (or not) to help people like me.  The NFT collects donations specified for me, and allocates those funds to me as I need them.  Since the NFT is a non-profit, donations are tax deductible and I will not be responsible for paying taxes on the funds raised because I will receive them as grants from my own fund--therefore they aren't counted as my income.

The website covers in more detail, the kinds of financial help I will be able to receive from donations made in my name.  The big hurdle I'm facing with this, is I'm not allowed to fund-raise on my own behalf.  I have to ave a few dedicated friends who will be willing to sign up for the task of managing this campaign for me.The first step in creating my donation page is to find a Campaign Manager and a Campaign Secretary.  Those are the primary volunteers who can help me get this show on the road.

 I know you are all busy, and have your own battles to fight, so if you can't help out in this way, please don't feel bad about it.  But if you can, I'll buy you a Margarita after I get my Transplant and we will party 'till the cows come home!   

The Cows, FINALLY coming home....sheesh!

The Quest vs. Circumstance

Dear Blog,

It has been awhile since we spent some time together.  When I first created you, I planned to use you as vehicle to carry my story of finding happiness to the world.  Of course, the decision I made back then (to write about my quest) came from all the advice I heard the therapists at work telling our clients all the time, "Your happiness is up to you."  "You create your own happiness."  "You determine your fate."

So, off I went, in search of things to be happy about, and to be honest, I did start to feel happier.  I still remind myself to be thankful for the little things every day, because those really are the things that tend to bring me the most happiness.  I have good friends, an awesome little kid, people who make me laugh, and I rock a pretty decent wardrobe of thrift shop clothes.  Something changed though, and the little things that still made me happy, didn't exactly help me capture happy-NESS.  Trust me, there is a difference.

I took some months off from my Quest.  I'm sorry, but I really didn't miss you.  There's so much pressure involved in being happy all the time.  I gave myself permission to be unhappy for a while.  You know, to grieve my losses and admit my fears and even isolate myself on the couch every weekend watching entire TV series on Netflix until my eyes almost fell out.  I let myself forget about reality swallowing me up, and I just surrendered to it.  Some might call this little break I took "depression" but I think that word is way too overused.  I'd prefer to call it, vacation.  I took a vacation from trying so hard and I think it did me some good.

One thing that brief break taught me about the psychological mantra of those therapists I used to work with, was that it's at least somewhat erroneous.  I agree that my attitude goes a long way towards helping me cope with life and keeping my spirits from diving into the eternal pit of darkness, but I don't completely agree that I can just up and whip myself up a big batch of happiness with a little hard work.

You see, there's this thing called Circumstances that kind of always screws things up.  I know it has happened to other people besides me, but I seem to be especially blessed with these miracles.  I call them miracles because people are always telling me that God is giving me these things to make me stronger and better.  All I can think though, is how terribly weak and bad I must have been originally if God has to give me this much crap to make me stronger and better.

I just want to say for the record that it's not my fault that I have End Stage Renal Disease, or that I had to start Dialysis in July.  I didn't create the disease or make it keep getting worse and worse over the years.  Like my Doctor said last Thursday when I told him that the reason I had ESRD was IgA Nephropathy, "That's just some bad luck."  I also didn't purposefully accept a job with a company that was so heartless that it decided to fire me for trumped up reasons once they found out that my health was going to cost their insurance premiums to skyrocket.  I didn't just decide to stop paying my mortgage this month, it's just that Unemployment doesn't pay enough to support me and my son.   I didn't decide to sign up for food stamps because I thought it'd be fun--it was humiliating.  I could keep this list of circumstances going for days, but that would get boring for you so I will stop here.

Anyway, here I am.  I still want to be happy, so I try my best to stay positive, even though people say stupid things to me all the time and all the medical professionals who work with ESRD patients assume we are all 65 or older with grand children and a retirement fund.  I laugh when something is funny (even if I'm laughing at myself) and I joke with my dialysis nurses.  I pretend to be proud of this tube in my belly and crack jokes about that all the time too.  I put baggy clothes on and try to trick people into thinking I'm pregnant, and I joke about the phosphate binders I have to take with every meal.  I refuse to speak of pain or nausea or fatigue, and I push myself harder and harder because I TRULY want happiness!  I know it comes from within, but so does this darned tube in my belly, and the two seemingly fight against one another to my detriment.  I guess that's why I have to come back from my break and start working at it again.

Wish me luck, loan me a buck, or just read this and laugh to yourself and say, "That Rebecca...she just cracks me up."  Any of those would probably make me feel a little happier.

7 People No One Wants To Be

1. You don't want to be Debbie Downer.  You know the type, right?  They can be male or female, and they simply cannot find a silver lining to any cloud whatsoever.  Even when GOOD things happen to them, they find the bad element to harp on.  They win the lottery, but instead of being thrilled about winning all that money, they complain and complain about the taxes they had to pay, or the fact that people want them to donate to charity, or the fact that their mom needs an operation and expects them to help pay for it.  Or maybe they lose 50 pounds, but instead of being happy with their new, thinner size, they complain that their clothes are too big.  Throw Debbie a surprise party for her birthday and she'll be upset that she wasn't prepared for it, forget her birthday and she's convinced you hate her.  There's no making her happy, so don't even try.

2.  You don't want to be Ignorant Jim-Bob.  This is the guy who swallows down every ounce of pro-gun, anti-gay, racist propaganda anyone tries to feed him.  Throw in the words "conspiracy" and "liberal" and you've got him, hook line and sinker.  He will spout statistics he can't back up, and when that fails to make his point, he will take some Biblical scripture out of context to make his point.  He will argue with a stop sign, and he will frustrate you to no end if you try to engage him in rational conversation.  Save yourself the trouble, there's no use trying to reason with someone who is irrational, much less someone who is an idiot.

3.  You don't want to be Ass-Kisser Annie.  These are people who get where they're going in life by sucking up.  Brown nosing.  Kissing ass.  Often they do their jobs very poorly, because they aren't actually qualified for them.  They didn't get promoted or hired because of their qualifications, they just happened to kiss the ass of the most narcissistic manager they could find--and they show promise in their ability to continue to kiss ass once they're hired/promoted.  Eventually everyone who works as an equal with, or works for this person starts to hate them on some level.  Mostly out of frustration, because they see someone screwing up a job they could do better--except for the sucking up part.

Ms. Bitter

4.  You don't want to be Mr. or Ms. Bitter.  Everyone has relationships that go sour.  Lord knows, I've had my share.  I could be bitter-okay, I still have days when I am bitter, but in general, I'm a pretty laid back, easy going gal, so I refuse to let the actions of a few rotten men turn me into a shriveled up angry husk of a being.  No one likes hearing your story of betrayal over and over and over again.  Women don't want to be lumped in the same category as your whorish cheating ex girlfriend, nor do all men want to be referred to under such terms.  Life is what it is.  Some people are shitty--male and female.  Just don't become one of them.

5. You don't want to be Mr. or Mrs. Half-Ass.  Everyone likes to cut corners now and then, but if your name is going to be attached to a project or a task, do it as well as you are able.  What if your surgeon got you half-way sewn up after a surgery and then decided, "Oh well, that's good enough."  Good enough for him maybe, but what about you?  Sometimes good enough will do, other times, it just makes you look like a lazy slob.  Learn to know the difference between those times.

6.  You don't want to be a Judgmental Jerk.  You know who I'm talking about.  It's your girlfriend who makes comments about everyone else's weight--even people she doesn't know.  It's your uncle who decides that all Catholics are going straight to Hell, or someone else you know who says single moms get what they ask for when they are trying to raise a child without its father.  These are people who haven't a clue what it means to be empathetic.  They know for sure, that their way of living and being and doing is the RIGHT way, and it's the ONLY right way.  If you're different from them, you're wrong.  So what if you take medication that makes you fat?  So what if your crappy husband took off with the cleaning lady from his job?  You are still wrong.  And you're likely going to Hell.

Procrastinator

7.  You don't want to be me.  Heck, half the time I don't even want to be me.  Why? You ask.  You seem like a really cool chick, you say.  And you're right.  But I also sit around thinking of things like "7 People No One Wants To Be" and then I spend twenty minutes typing about it.  Are there other, more constructive things I could do with my time?  Yes.  Yes there are.  The problem is, I am one of the people you don't want to be because I am a Procrastinator.

Which is why there's no Number 8.  I'll get to that later.

Fire

     "Are you gonna pass that, or what?" He asked in that smart-ass tone of his.
      "Sorry," she said. Then she took another long toke before handing it over. She knew that would piss him off. Lately, she got more pleasure from making him annoyed than she got from having sex with him. He took his turn and then tried to pass it back to her, but she was done.
      She was done in so many ways. The clarity of thought that settled over her as the marijuana closed down the anxious parts of her mind was giving her the courage to tell him she was finished with this. Even when she was high though, she couldn't look into those sky blue eyes of his and be brave. Something about them, the coldness of their color, or maybe even the coldness that radiated through them from inside him was intimidating to her, so she wrapped her arms around herself and said, "It's cold out here."
      They were sitting in the back yard by a little fire they had built together. The frigid winter air swirled around them, chilling their backs while the fire roasted their cheeks. The dog whimpered at a squirrel before he gave a heavy sigh and settled down at her feet in front of the fire. Even the dog seemed to know that something besides the smoke from their fire was making it hard to breathe.
      It seemed like a long time passed before anyone spoke again, but then, the weed sort of messes with a person's perception of time, so it could have only been a moment. She kept sitting there looking for words to say but nothing came to her. What do you say when everything has already been said?
      "I'm thinking about going to Montana for the summer," he said.
      "Montana? What's in Montana?"
      "A ranch. I think I'm going to go out there and work for the summer."
      "Oh."
      They both kept staring into the fire, as if the other weren't even there but she wanted to check out his expression.  She felt like he was looking for some sort of reaction from her but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
      "That would be a great thing for you, Babe," she said, enthusiastically.
      "You mean you don't care if I go away for two months?"
      "I didn't say that. But if you want to go, you should go."
      "So it doesn't bother you?"
      "I guess I'm not happy about not seeing you for two months, but I mean, what can I say? If you want to go you're going to go so I might as well be supportive."
      She picked up a stick and poked at the fire. Who was he anyway, to bring up something like that just to get a rise out of her? She knew this was another one of his wicked tricks. One of his hoops that he held up to see if she would jump through it. Not this time.
      "I'm going to go watch some TV," he announced abruptly as he tossed the the roach into the fire. "You comin' in?"
      "I'll be in in a bit. I want to sit by the fire a little longer. The dog can stay with me."
      She sat there for a long time, watching the fire morph from one shade of orange to the next, her eyes burning from the smoke so badly that she couldn't tell if she was crying or not. "Sooner or later they all disappoint you," she said to the dog. He looked up at her as if he understood.
         Over head the stars dotted the night sky the way her freckles had dotted her face when she was a girl. A person can feel so small, she thought, when they look up and see how vast the sky really is. She wondered if she really mattered to anyone at all--she knew she didn't matter to him. She wondered why it was, that even though she had so many people in her life, she couldn't help but feel horrible about herself because this ONE person didn't see her worth.
      As the fire died down the air wrapped around her, getting colder and colder, until finally even the dog was shivering. She stirred the embers one last time and called the dog to follow her in. Her man met her at the back door, crooked grin applied to his lips, and stepped aside as she walked in. It was that evil grin he couldn't hide when he was getting pleasure from her pain. She came so close to telling him to just leave. To leave and never come back. But he half-heartedly hugged her and she made the mistake of looking up into his cold blue eyes as she pulled away. The decision was made, but the words would have to come another day.

Wish You Were Here

Out There

The thing about sleeping with the window open is, the air just smells better. Not to mention how much cooler the room is, because even though its January, it's hotter than blazes in here. South Carolina has never understood winter.

The other thing about sleeping with the window open is the sound of the train. Sometimes it's so loud the whistle makes its way into my dreams as an alarm or an airplane about to crash. It rarely plays the role of itself in my nocturnal dramas. I like to listen to it as I fall asleep. It makes me feel like a kid again, back in my old bedroom with my sister sleeping in the next bed. When I close my eyes and smell the cool breeze drifting through the open window, I almost feel small as an eight year-old, curled up in a ball under my blankets.

When I was a kid, the train rolling through Liberty at night made me wonder about far away places. I knew nothing of any place other than our small town. I watched in amazement whenever we had to stop for the train to pass through on our way to Winn-Dixie or to school. I counted the cars and wondered what was in them. I wondered if hobos were real.

Our preacher loved talking about The Second Coming. Of Jesus, of course. He talked about The Trumpet sounding, the dead rising, hearing The Lord call our names and all of us who were Saved would be transported through the sky right up to heaven. This Rapture he spoke of was supposedly a good thing, but I was too worried about being one of the Lost. Worried that I might hear the trumpet but not my name. Many times in my childhood I awoke in terror to the sound of the train roaring through town, whistle blasting, thinking I was hearing The Trumpet. Even then, the train became something else to me in my dreams.

The thing about having the window open though, is it makes the sheets cooler, and I really like stretching out my legs so my toes can find the coolest spot between them. When I wake up in the morning, the covers feel a little damp, almost like dew has fallen on them while I was sleeping. I want to curl up and stay in bed but Out There is calling so I have to get up and close the window. It's a shame to leave my little pocket of fresh air--my safe-place where I only have to let Out There in a little bit at a time.

I shower and dress--put on my disguise. I look at myself in the mirror by the front door one more time before I reach for the lock. It's a good-enough costume, I suppose, for a girl who is just trying to look as if she belongs Out There.

The air isn't the same when there's so much of it. Then there's all the light and the noise. Neighbors to wave to, cars to watch out for, red lights to wait at. NPR is talking about the Fiscal Cliff again, and I shake my head because I know it's all just bullshit. The car gets too hot, then too cold. Someone is texting me about work already but I'm driving so I can't answer. I don't want to answer anyway.

Dragging myself out of bed took too long and now I'm late. I try to weave through the minivans and SUVs coming from school but they have me trapped and the next thing I know, I hear it. That familiar "ding ding ding ding ding!" Just before the arm falls and I'm stuck waiting for the train to pass. Oh how I wish I could be on it--just to see all the places it passes through--to see what's at the end of the line!

But the car behind me honks and I startle out of my daydream. The train has passed. It kept its course and kept good time and now I must do the same.

Really Cool Things About Being A Kid (That we forget once we grow up)

I'm at home with my sickly boy today. I gave him Tylenol a few minutes ago, and now he's quietly playing with action figures in the living room floor. I think he's having a growth spurt on top of being under the weather. Watching him play and thinking of how quickly he is growing, I can't help but feel a little tinge if regret for all the wonderful things about childhood I have forgotten since becoming an adult. Here are some of the coolest things about being a kid that most people completely forget once they're grown:

1. How it feels to grow taller. This has got to be one of the coolest experiences of childhood, but how many people really give it a second thought? Kids grow. It's what they do. But just think how awesome it would be to wake up at 30 with leg cramps and then realize two days later that all your pants are too short becauseu you grew 2 inches! I, personally would be thrilled! I wish I could remember how it felt to get taller and taller, but alas, the memory escapes me.
2. How to create alternate realities by using a different voice, changing your name, or shrinking yourself to the size of an action figure and getting lost in your own story line of super heroes vs. villains!
3. Fitting into really small spaces.
4. Eating whatever you want without worrying about high cholesterol, or.your figure.
5. Apparently, when you're 6, poop is hilarious. Not so much when you're a grown up.
6. It's okay to fall asleep anywhere at any time and no one thinks badly of you for it. In fact, everyone thinks its adorable.
7. Playing. I don't mean golf or video games. I mean running wildly, climbing with abandon, skipping joyfully and falling down often. I mean making up the game as you go, making friends everywhere you go just so you have someone to play with, being so tired you can't stand yourself and still wanting to PLAY!!!
8. Christmas morning.
9. Snuggling up on the couch with your mommy when you're sick.
10. Always having someone around who knows more about the world than you do--and being able to ask them questions about anything at any time.
11. Making up the words to songs when you don't know the real words and wouldn't understand what they meant, even if you did know them.
12. Recess! Ah, recess, that few minutes in the day when you let loose and PLAY! When you forget about math and reading and just BE a kid. The closest thing we get to recess as adults is the lunch break--where we work while we eat or talk about work while we eat.
13. Not knowing that "sh*t" is a bad word, and saying it to a stranger--then experiencing the thrill of having shocked a grown up you don't know and embarrassing your mom at the same time.
14. Being able to tell grown ups when their breath stinks, when they're too fat, or that they are very wrinkly, and having them not get angry at you for speaking the truth.
15. Cartoons! Mindless funniness, complete with mini explosions, gravity defying stunts, impossible plots by evil bunnies or ducks or chickens to take over the world! A sponge that talks and blows really cool bubbles, and who has campfires under water...who needs reality TV when you can watch Sponge Bob??

How to Cut Corners and Save Time: The Art of Being A Slacker

It's Monday morning, and as I sit here waiting for my name to be called at my doctor's office, I can't help but wonder: is there some way I could use this time less efficiently? I mean, so far I have checked emails, looked up statistics on SC's domestic violence rates, and posted on Facebook twice. All this has served to do is stress me out, though, so now I'm thinking, why did I do all that??

In an effort to simplify my life, and to help you simplify yours, I've come up (in the last five minutes) with 5 ways to cut corners and save time--so you can do a lot more of what you actually WANT to do. Which is nothing.

1. Be late. That's right, don't be absent, that makes you look lazy, but if you're late, you seem busy and who is going to think badly of someone who has so much on her plate that she can't be on time? Lateness can give you more time to do nothing because you have all that "nothing" time when you should have been "there" doing "something". For instance, my co-worker is kindly filling Infor me this morning while I sit here in my doctor's office writing this post...which is pretty much the same as doing nothing.

2. Leave it for someone else. My children learned this one early. Don't want to wash those dishes? Let them pile up in the sink. Sooner or later, someone will need a fork, glass and plate all at the same time. Then they will take care of the dishes and you just saved yourself 15 minutes of time that you would have otherwise spent loading the dishwasher. Same goes for laundry, garbage and toys on the floor. Eventually someone's going to step on a Lego and end the stale mate.

3. Half-ass it. Use duct tape whenever possible. Just make a pathway to the kitchen and bathroom. Pull the comforter over the bed, but don't bother smoothing out the sheets. Learn to be content with, "good enough."

4. Wait until the last minute to plan parties and events. Most everything can be planned and thrown together in an hour or less. Why waste all that time doing stuff like making phone calls, sending invitations, and ordering supplies weeks or months ahead of time? Besides, the longer you wait to invite people, the fewer guests you'll have, and that's less work for YOU!

5. Go off-radar. Don't answer your phone or emails. Don't respond to texts. Don't check Facebook. How can anyone ask you to do something if they can't reach you because you're so busy doing nothing?

I hope you find these tips helpful. I know I will consider using them more in the near future. For now though, my nothing time is up. Time to go visit with my Doc.

Happy Monday, y'all!

Nancy Grace Enters Glamour Shots Competition: Loses to Grandma with Bigger Handcuffs

Legal commentator, Nancy Grace was irate last Friday, after losing the Glamour Shots Dominatrix of the Year competition in her hometown of Macon Georgia.  Grace was overheard stating that "There wasn't nobody in Georgia better with a whip than her, so Grandma just needs to get over herself."

The winner of the competition, Mildred Nesbitt of Norcross Georgia was excited about her victory.  "It's not every day you get to meet someone like Nancy Grace, but to beat her in a Glamour Shots competition?  It's unheard of!"  When asked what she would do with the prize money, Mildred broke down into tears and said she was planning to use the money to help get her son off death row.  "I know he murdered those poor women, but he's a sweet boy. Really he is."

We asked Nancy Grace what she thought of Mildred's plan to use the prize money to have a prisoner released from death row.  "People like Mildred Nesbitt are what's wrong with this country," she stated as she ripped off her handcuff necklace and threw her barrette at a cameraman before storming out of the room.

Grace has still not abandoned her dream of becoming Americas most beloved Dominatrix.  She can still be seen in her leather and handcuff ensemble on her new show, Nancy Grace Mysteries on HLN every Friday at 8:00 pm.

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