This post is mostly about Sunday, so I changed the date even though I am writing this on Tuesday.

This morning was very difficult, I awoke frightened with my heart racing and my pillow and sheets drenched with sweat.  I was feeling like a failure which I am doing at a more frequent rate.  I just kept thinking what would happen if I closed down the business.  The big problem is that I don't know and yet I am so willing to do it.  I keep speculating on whether it would drive me broke or not.  I know that severing the relationship with the franchiser is the easy part.  The hard part is what I need to do with the corporation I created.  Is there a way to close it down?  Since I used my 401K, am I going to have to pay penalties and taxes on the money I put into the business?  How much would that be and do I have enough to cover it?  I also keep thinking of dumping the house by calling Homevestors.  The problem there is whether I will get enough money to cover what I owe on the house.  I have about 30-40K in equity if I can believe the people who send me fliers on how the houses are selling in my neighborhood.  The house needs some work, but there are a lot of things I have down to it.  My biggest concern there is how to get rid of the stuff in the house.  Do I have a big garage sale?   Do I try to sell the stuff on ebay ot Craigs List.  I am not good at these things and I don't know that I will ask anyone for help.

I turned on the TV and started flipping through channels.  I watched several things before I found Backdraft with Kurt Russell and one of the Baldwin brothers.  The first time I saw this movie, I bawled like a baby at the end with the long procession of firemen walking through the streets--it reminded me a lot of my brother's funeral.  Then they cut to Kurt Russell's son holding Baldwin's hand (his uncle) as they walked in the procession.  I lost it at that point wondering who would be the father figure in my nephew's life and wishing I had that kind of relationship with my nephew.  When I saw the movie on Sunday, the same kinds of feelings cam back and the water flowed from my eyes.  I didn't really bawl like before, but I definitely cried.  I realized that I don't cry much anymore, I always hold it back.  Like at Toy Story 3 a few weeks ago.  I was there with some good friends and their kids.  There was some really touching parts in the movie and I barely held it together--their second oldest son however could not and I think it embarrassed him.  I was good and didn't say a thing to him, although I did tell his parents later.  Anyhow, I seem to be able to get sad at movies and my eyes water up, but I don't really cry.  I remember when I was told that my brother had been shot and was dead and I cried so much that night.  I was on a business trip and had no one really to talk to.  My manager was really good and helped me get a flight home.  He had been on a business trip some where else.  I couldn't get a hold of any of the managers with me because they were all out partying.  I got a really early fight for the next morning and tried to go back to sleep.  I could stop crying for periods, but every time I started talking to someone, I was done for.  Anyhow, I was kind of glad that I could dry, but it did not bring a feeling of release when I was done.  It seemed more superficial.

I managed to get out of bed and get something to eat.  I kept thinking I would go but lottery tickets, but I did not.  I talked to my Dad later, before Mom got home.  He is sounding kind of old and is having some problems.  He had fallen some time and scraped himself up.  He put some bandages on and called it good.  Evidently, it got infected a little and wouldn't heal.  When he finally saw a doctor, they gave him an antibiotic.  Dad had prostate cancer and just finished radiation treatments.  He is supposed to have a radioactive seed put into the gland in the next week or so.  He won't be able to do that if he has an infection.  Dad has never really gone to the doctor when he hurts himself--he puts a bandage on it and calls it good.  Maybe that is part of the reason I can't ask people for help.  I talked to Mom for a bit and I know everyone is concerned and wishes they could help.  I just don't know what they can do.  I would kind of like to have a cleaning party at my house where they help me get rid of stuff either by selling it or throwing it away.

I talked with my sister afterward for a very long time.  She had a good week with some of my nieces and one of my grand-nieces.  As we talked I realized more and more that I would like to be closer to home so that I could be a part of these children's lives since I never had children of my own.  It is the same feeling I had about my friends' kids and why I wished they had never moved up north.  We talked about a lot of things including Dad and what I should do.  She thinks I should be some kind of teacher and wants me to substitute.  I looked into briefly once before and it looks like you need some kind of certification, but I did not look into what exactly the certification is.  I do everything half way which is the lie I am living.  I always convince people I have done what I need to, or at least I convince myself.  It is like when I bought the franchise--I really didn't do the homework I needed to.  I still have yet to speak to another franchisee other than Mike that was in training with me and I haven't spoken to him since the training.  My therapist says lazy is a perception, but that is the negative perception I have about myself.

Anyhow, my sister and I talked a little about our childhoods and mine was definitely different from hers.  Part of it is that I don't remember being poor, but I also don't remember us being rich.  We always had the necessities and then some.  I always had new clothes for school and we always had food to eat and we always had a decent place to live--in the last house there was even a swimming pool.  On the other side, very rarely did I ever get something I wanted.  I never got the coolest toys or anything.  But it didn't seem to matter too much.  I think I kept my disappointment bottled inside.  There was one time in high school, we had gone shopping for suits for some reason, and my Mom bought me a really nice coat.  I was expecting to see it under the tree, but instead she gave it to me from Santa Claus.  I was so distraught Christmas Eve to not get the coat and for some reason even more upset when it came the next morning from Santa.  Anyhow I am off the topic again.  My sister and I talked and I mentioned I wanted to see a psychic and she thought it would be a good idea.

I was terrified in the morning and was feeling a little better in the evening, but it was still very difficult to sleep.  I have been taking way too many sleep aids in my opinion.  But I took them nonetheless since the next day was Monday and I had some things I needed to do.