I have been secretly hoarding bills, that is what life is like for me, I can keep a secret not because I have to, but it is the way in which I maintain a sense of autonoumy. I can be like a thief in the night, and fox in the hen house all at the same time. I have highly dysfunctional marragie, if you want to call it that, but I actually live with my guy for over 15 years now, combined between some rough spots weve been through, and weve been through them it is closer to 20 years. Yep thats the 20 mile mark at the marathon, the one where you decide and some other entity inside your brain devolop stratergies of why you have remained in rather than just throw in the towel. Lets face it, getting older is not easy, we can't hide from ourselves, we see the wrinkles, the ones that don't go away after you've bought the expensive creams, the ones that you can't hide, with the peaks and valleys of day to day life. My husband hasn't looked at my body in a long time, you ask why, I don't know I can't tell you exactly. It started to take a toll on me, after I lost my mom, that was the first invitation I mentally recieved to old age. I felt down, drained, like I was run over by one of lifes speed by bandits. It was painful as is the death of a loved one, it happened in a tragic way which didn't help either. I had also been able to sue as a result, and was able to have some considerable compensation paid, due to her demise.I spent money uncontrolably, I spent on necessary things, such as remodeling work, that was always put off, I purchased cars, yes you see correctly cars 4 in total, and one that I had to fight over with a car dealership, because I was losing sense of just how fast I was spending. I am sure G-d was angry with me, there was a sever lightening storm one night, it was truly horrific, I was sure this was to avenge what I was doing. My mom had been a good soul all of her life, she was dutiful and purposeful, full of pride that no one could take away from her. I still carryed on, and was secretely happy, that this money was there, since my partner always rubbed into me, that I didn't have money. He could be mean like that, and not realize how low I felt allready. Now that I rethink some of the arguments that may have compelled me to keep my lips zipped, I also want to shout how unfair it was to criticize me for something that was not my choice. I wasn't born poor, but poor in my thinking, I always carried myself with pride, and despite some obstacles that I had to over come, such as being thrown out of my home at a young age. Which I am sure, now that I am older, if my mom were still here, she would have rethought. I never called my mom back to say "I was sorry", all I knew was that I was mis-understood big time. All I ever wanted to do, was write, from my earliest recollections when first asked one day, while sitting in the kitchen of one of my moms homes, a lady she knew asked me, "what did I want to do when I got older"? I replied, "I want to write poetry", what inspired me to say that, I don't know exaclty. I was an excellent reader, right from the start, words came very naturally to me. But that is what I said, she responded back, "you can't do that", I asked in my little girl voice, "why"? She replied, "you don't understand that stuff", That was always the understanding that I endured always "no you can't", the other answers I learned to tolerate was "theres no money in writing", another from my mom of all people was "I wanted to write, but I knew that was not to be". Those words broke my heart. They destroyed my sense to know that her true dominion was not to be heard, but more surpressed. She was sharp, and focused and had a keen eye for people. She was clear, and seldom deluded into not meaning what she did not say, she was able to formulate an opinion, and was prompt and clever, usually allowing the other party to fall flat on their face if they were not on the up and up with her. She loved G-d and law, and knew how to be respectfull with out ever impressing anybody with money, but with a sense of spirt that far prevailed. She never bowed to anyone, and that certainly was no excuse where I was concerned either. I know that I am not my mothers daughter. It breaks my heart also, but to each our own, as were one of her wise expressions. She would not endure what I have, for no amount of money. I have been chastized my husband, and by others in my existence, but my tolearance level is high. I will still declare what I see as being events that have scarred certain people earlier in their lives, such as what I have described here. I would hope that in establishing a sense of committment, that it is clear that I have every sense about me to write, and plan to procure that entitlement if is the last thing that I do. I will hope that if I Tighten my Rope, the load will be lighter. This is my Lenten Prayer, and I hope I will be able to take classes at a wonderful private college that specializes in educating women, and also adults.