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Today, I have just one client left, it's PAYDAY and tomorrow is my weekend off. YIPEEEEEeeee!

The IL's are moving in to their new place. I will help them today and tomorrow. I know already that I will miss my FIL. He has a sweet and constant outlook on life that I am sure pleases God. Although I may have blown off steam about the housekeeping details my MIL employs which make me feel so inferior, I know we will all miss her constant cleaning, hymn-humming, and her being there when the kids get home.

This "someone being there" is really a problem for us. My Blog title is really a misnomer. I can hardly be called a housewife, not because I am an outrageous slob, but because I am home so little. I log lots of overtime, and my split shifts cause me to be in other peoples' homes at waking, ready-for-bed and meal times. Still, I am glad to have a job. I am hoping that my husband will find something soon. I have also applied for another job within my company that is related to duties I performed successfully elsewhere. The pay is a little better, and I would be working office hours. I hope I will be considered, and that the HR people will call me soon.

Ron and I have had our fight and made our present peace.

I have a dark side. I am constantly trying to suppress it. I became a Christian to drown it. It is full of fear and anxiety, guilt, shame and blame. Toxic to happiness and trust. I know. I grew up in circumstances that showcased this darkness as a powerful tool.

Think of it as an evil, poisoned sword, like from Mordor.

Circumstances honed this darkness and gave me skill in wielding it. I had plenty of practise putting others down, including my siblings, friends and even, at times, my parents, husband and children. And some of them became used to it enough to learn to fight back. Some of them even learned to like it.

What is the result of such "swordplay"?

Fear instead of love, for one thing.

I may pick up a good sword 29 days out of thirty, and fight the good fight. But I find myself with the poisoned blade in my hands, stabbing someone right in their self-esteem on one awful day, and all the 29 good days are as nothing to me, or my victim.

Can I change this, or will I have to fight forever? I live in hope that I can change.

Change takes effort, committment and constant vigilance. I have committed myself to change often, I am capable of any effort, but my vigilance sometimes slips.