I agree with several of you who say that some people lie so much even to themselves that they begin to believe that their lies are reality. I know a woman like this. She lies about everything. She will tell you something & then conveniently forget what she said. She just tells you what she thinks you want to hear at the time. She will also spin things to make others look bad if they don't agree with her or go along with how she wants things done. She was telling me something about a mutual friend & it just didn't sound right to me. None of it went along with what I knew or had ever heard others say about this person. Knowing her history & realizing that there are two sides to every story, I asked the other person & got their side. It made perfect sense then. I'm not sure why some people are like this, but the ones I know do have some sort of issues. Usually it seems to be a need for attention or to be pitied (I guess another way to get attention). This lady will tell everyone about how badly people treat her, when it's actually the other way around. I know a lot of people she's used, but she always spins the story to make it sound like the other person treated used her & treated her badly. She's constantly telling these "poor little me" stories. I think that this lady honestly believes her own lies. She's lied to herself so much that this has become reality. I had a college roommate who was a habitual liar. She knew that I liked a guy & would tell me stories about how she'd run into him on campus & he wanted to send me a message, etc. She even went so far as to give me notes that she said were from him. I wondered why she was always the one to run into him & questioned why he would send notes but not call me. She managed to convince me that he was really shy; you know how it is when you have a crush, you want to believe things. I actually got up the courage one day to call him, which she did not expect, as I was extremely shy at the time. Of course, he had no idea what I was talking about. He was embarrassed. I was embarrassed, furious & hurt. This girl had real problems. She would lie to her parents & sister & to me & my friends. She got to the point where she didn't want me to go anywhere without her. It wasn't exactly "Single White Female", but it was creepy. I would definitely say that this girl could benefit from counseling. She may not even really know what is reality at this point.

I'm kind of curious what KIND of uncomfortable the feeling is...it could be nothing more than the acoustics of the place, or something equally subliminal - the orientation of the house, where and how the light falls, the smell of plaster dust, where you're used to drywall...new homes that are so tightly insulated that you can feel the vacuum when you pull the front door open drive me quietly nuts, for intstance. part of the problem is, of course, that once you responded to that feeling by stepping outside, the idea of 'creepy' kind of set hold, and started feeding on your behavior - by avoiding it, you created fear, by becoming fearful you had a reason to avoid it, and that can go round and round forever... and at no point to I have to know if the cat is looking at something, or simply the number and type of dust motes in the room - if I choose to personify those feelings and speak of the house fae, or spirit? that's just me, it's a language that I find useful. could be electromagnetic charges, could be inner-ear pressure changes, could be memories from before you learned to talk, it could be anything or nothing... but I do know that Lav's got a great idea for getting you and the house used to one another - another is to talk to the house, compliment it, maybe even have your husband introduce you to the house like it's a spinster aunt - sometimes, rituals like that need to no more than speak to the part of us that never quite stops being afraid of new or unfamiliar things.

"And if you think all of Alabama is the same, (that's like saying all from California are Charles Manson or all from New York are from Hell Kitchen), just read this:" Sherry, I'm confused, or you are. Or maybe it's the wrong link? Your link goes to the story of an Ohio elected official seen having sex with another male in his state office space. That seems to have nothing to do with Alabama. Sexual orientation and lying don't necessarily have a political party or geographic correlation. Charles Manson was born and raised, if you can call it that, in the Midwest and moved to California when he ventured into the world on his own. But it's true, the rest of us Californians are just like him.

You all are very kind as usual..you're not being blunt, and you're being very helpful (and I'm a psycho-more than usual. But it might be my new usual. Things are moving this way) running, I wonder whether it's one of the approaches I love the most..it was developed by Michael White if I'm not mistaken. It does sound like it. There, one does create a story ..and picks certain bricks to build that house so to say, a house of his story..out of thousand brincks that he has, he picks hundreds -and chooses not to pick others, as to confirm his own story. While other bricks continue to be at his disposal..they don't fit. They don't fit whatever he builds, and thus he never uses them. Maybe he doesn't even see them, at times. Sounds familiar? It might be called a narrative approach, I'm not very sure about English terminology. And I'm desperate to continue to write my story. And I want to have some control over it. Who doesn't. It's damn hard to do. Because my control is getting very small precisely when it had a chance to be bigger, and precisely when I sorely need it. It shrinks by the day. It shrinks and it doesn't depend on me that much already, and will depend less and less. So I have a very little time. I'm revisiting my past a lot, that's true, and I'm bargaining about some of "what ifs"-but I probably think too much about future right now because it comes faster than I thought it would. And future -whatever part of the story I have yet to write-it does include the current house. Say I don't want to sell it, or to rent it, or to get rid of it. I want to keep it in the family and all. I do love it. But it shapes to be my "forever" house too fast. Simply speaking-I don't want to die here. And it's very hard becoming a huge burden to your family. I'll be a very big burden. I already am-bui I didn't imagine the degree of how fast it goes downhill, and what will entail. It'll get worse, and it won't be pretty. It will be ugly, and very.. non-elegant. No white camelias.. And I want to die at home. Well preferably to live and die at home, but if living is impossible then to die. And my home is very very far away. And for millions of people that might be a brick that they wouldn't choose. Where they're'd want to die. It's a kind of a luxury too..I'm not even sure that brick is at my disposal)) I realize all that. Yet to me it's fundamental. It's like to write ..well I don't know.."Wuthering Heights" and leave out Heathcliff. My Heatchcliff is not a person, not a passion for something, not a..I don't know. Everybody and their Heathcliff. My Heathcliff is my land. I spent many years trying to write a different story. But that brick Is too heavy to move, I'm not taking it out.. My house of a story might be a pretty place without it. But it would be a lie. And I want authenticity. As with a house.. And to be a burden here...very practically speaking ..lots of money too. Pain to them and torture to me- and tons of money. I need to start leaving-well partially leaving, I'm not going to leave my family and this country once and for all, I'll have to divide my time between here and there, which will be very hard as well-I need to start leaving much faster than I thought. While l I have a capacity to do so at all. While I have my brain still computating things for me, you know? because it's not a given. I thought whatever happens-at least to the very end I have my dignity. I can be of some minor use to my loved ones. One can still think, talk, be a rock in a sense he's there for them.. That's not how things will work in my case, not neccessarily. One needs to be of a sound mind in order to have dignity..to be a rock..to be anything at all. And mind will most likely crumble as everything else does. I'm so so sorry to bring you into my vortex or how it's called. But there are very few people who know these details-and one of them is my husband, and the rest, I pay them money)) I don't want to make others too sad over things they cannot change-so add to it my huge effort to show everybody a different story that you write only for their sake. A story where everything looks better and holds a promise.. It's too many stories to juggle at once..))) And my fingers loose the capacity to hold a pen. I don't mourn my old place. I mourn my old me. After all I'm to separate from her soon. She's a very questionable person of course-but I didn't have anybody else)) I do want to live in the moment (to that end we yesterday went to the party and had fun)) we'd choose it anyway over open house lol, but you probably convinced me not to go at all. Maybe while I was writing here and reading your answers-I lost the incling to go to. Having this thread was enough ) And I do want to accept things .Desperately so. It's just hard because almost every day brings something else I have to adjust to and thus accept. Gardens and orchids do make me happy:) Believe me I'd rather stop writing where I was at orchids' part. Totally my fault to let it slide like that. I'm sorry about all this oversharing..I think it partially falls on you too because is easier to say certain things in English. It being not my native language. It's liberating, to a degree. Not fair to you of course, but you're too good for your own good ..)) I should probably have to just leave it all unanswered. Yet all of you wrote to me and shared with me your thoughts and stories from the bottom of your heart. I'm giving you back something you don't need. But it's also from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.. You are fascinating people, you opened so many new stories to me, and your existence in my life-virtual or not-is also a brick that I'd rather hold on to.