Diary of a Mad Woman Gone Sane

A young child disappears around 5pm on  Monday June 24, 1946, days before her 3rd birthday. She lives near the Flynn ditch in Missoula, Montana. She was born in Hawaii, where her father was stationed and her mother was born and raised. A beautiful blonde child with curls and an angelic face. Her father, along with the sheriff and the police, search tirelessly for days. While her mother waited at home. Praying that her child and her husband would return safely. The police didn't think that she had been kidnapped, but they didn't rule it out. They received some anonymous tips regarding a vehicle at a nearby service station that had been seen around the same time as the child's disappearance. On Sunday July 7th, 1946, a man that worked on the ditch found her. What a horrible day that day must have been for her parents, even worse than the days leading up to her being found. She had been missing for nearly 2 weeks. Her father, my grandfather, and her mother, my gran

In 2018 I was diagnosed with complex PTSD. I had no idea what that meant and I didn't understand how it happened. I wasn't in combat, so how could I have PTSD and what did the complex part mean. I had developed complex PTSD from a lifetime of trauma. My entire life was a reaction, because of the traumas. I was unaware that I had been drug around my life by PTSD. I didn't know what to do next. I had just lost my husband. Suddenly I couldn't "manage" my PTSD any longer. I was unable to be in crowds without a panic attack. I was overrun with anxiety. I felt out of control and broken. I'd been so high functioning for so long and now I could barely leave my house. I'm not the type of person who seeks help, especially from head shrinkers, psychologists. I had no other choice. This was too big for me. I couldn't do it alone. I believed that I was irreparable and that the traumas were my fault. I felt like I would be forever damaged. Add on to the PTSD, co

A few days ago, a friend of mine said that inside of the house is a woman's domain and the outside is a man's. And then, another friend said that there's man jobs and woman jobs at their house. This got me thinking. When Joe was alive there wasn't things he did and things I did, exclusively. He took care of our son. He did laundry. He cooked. He cleaned. We were a team, a partnership. Of course, strength wise, there's things I just can't do. However, living in the presert, there are a lot of things I have to do. I don't get to say I won't do it because it's a man's job. I've been told that I'm supposed to be barefoot and pregnant, raising babies and taking care of my husband. Fortunately for my family, I was more than willing to be the breadwinner, when Joe became unable to work. I worked hard to make sure my family had food, shelter, clothing, video games, etc. I am a decent cook, but Joe loved to cook and he was exceptional at it. Every