50 Questions: My Obituary

Write your obituary.

Having never wrote an obituary before, I had to do some research to figure out what to put in it. I tried to have a little fun with it too since I am not that serious of a person. Since everyone posts their favorite picture of the person, I added mine too. One of my fears is that I will post this and then die the next day. LOL

Okay, here it is… my obituary.


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Dotchi Anni Latham

Dotchi Anni Latham, 69, of Libby, MT left this crazy realm last Saturday after she was shanked for sarcasm. Her wit and sarcasm, was a gift she was known for among her family, friends, and quite a few enemies.

She was born in San Diego, California and raised everywhere else on Navy bases. She married a Navy man in 1994 and promptly moved to the backwoods of Tennessee where they stayed for ten years. In 2006 the family moved to San Diego where they lived on a boat named Epiphany which she named by accident during a drunken epiphany. Not long after that, she and her sons moved to Montana.

During her free time she enjoyed sleeping, making food, crochet, reading, blogging… yea, that’s about it. Her hobbies dwindled after a back injury in 2012. She turned to Minecraft to create worlds and entertain herself. She also became a staunch advocate for use of the Oxford comma, never using the word fishes, and banning the word “Ginormous” from the English language.

She is preceded in death by her son Brandon (1991). She leaves behind two sons, Miles and Mendel 2.0, three moms, three dads (it’s a long story. Ask at the memorial service) and too many brothers, sisters, cousins, etc to list here. If we did, we would have to buy the entire page in the newspaper.

Services will be held at the top of Whiskey Hill where part of her ashes will dumped into the blowing wind while family members yell, “THAR SHE BLOWS! She’s GONE WITH THE WIND!” (that is really in my will). The rest of her ashes will be used to plant a tree and it will be her memorial tree instead of the usual headstone.

Flowers can be sent to the nursing home or hospital where they will be appreciated by the elderly and infirm, by her request. In lieu of donations, please do not vote for Trump.

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I AM CRAZY! I have PROOF!

Sorry for the late posting. I went to therapy today and started with, “I am crazy. I just know I am. I have lost my damned mind.” My Psychologist laughed and was all, “No you are not!” And I said, “I have PROOF!” So she humored me and listened.

First, don’t Google anything yet. Make notes and then compare them to what you remember and what Google says.

Remember Jiffy peanut butter?

I remember Jiffy peanut butter. Not Jif! JIFFY! My kids remember Jiffy peanut butter. In fact, they remember when it switched over to the name “Jif” because I bitched about it for about a month because I couldn’t my beloved Jiffy. Everyone in my apartment building remembers Jiffy. My mom remembers Jiffy. My friends remember Jiffy.

It was JIFFY. Not Skippy. JIFFY! Jiffy peanut butter was the bomb!

So I sent an email to Jif asking when they changed the name. Here is the email I got back. Remember… no Googling yet!

Reference Number 10680945 dotchi gmail.com Gmail

In case you can’t read it because of screen size, it says,

“… the name Jif was chosen because it was easy to say, spell and remember. It was never called Jiffy.”

Stay with me on this… changing subjects. This is NOT a squirrel alert! And stay off Google until I am done.

Berenst_in Bears Books

Remember the lovable anthropomorphic family of bears that lived in a tree and had wonderful lessons to teach in each book? How did you spell the name?

Berenstein?

Berenstain?

Write it down. Visualize the book in your head. If you have a book nearby, no peeking.

Back to therapy

So, I told my psychologist about these two things. I made sure she agreed with me that Jiffy peanut butter was real and that she spelled the bears names like I remembered. Then I blew her mind…

Jiffy peanut butter never existed. Ever. It isn’t a thing.

I remember spelling it, “BerenstEin”. How did you spell it? Write it down. Okay, now Google it.

It is spelled BerenstAin. I swear to you it was spelled with an E. She said, “No. It was spelled with an E.” and objected to the non-existence of Jiffy peanut butter.

She didn’t believe me SO much so that she went and got her computer and brought it in the counseling room and googled it herself. She seriously thought I was bullshitting her. The look on her face and the gasp of shock as she saw this was totally worth all the happy pills in the world.

I would like to stop and take a moment to proudly announce that I am so crazy that I am taking my Psychologist with me! Not sure if that counts as a squirrel alert or not…

Yes, my psychologist was blown away.

Okay, now go search for Jiffy peanut butter. It doesn’t exist. It never has. The ONLY thing I could find was in a cartoon. You can see it here. Does that look like Jiffy peanut butter to you? It is super close to me! But other than that one picture, I cannot find it. In fact, if you Google “Jiffy peanut butter” you get this…

Jiffy peanut butter Google Search

Don’t believe me? Try it for yourself.

What the fuck!?

In case you are checking to make sure you took your meds today, you can put the lid back on your bottle. It’s called the Mandela effect.

It was named that because MANY people vividly remember Nelson Mandela dying in the 70’s or 80’s while in prison. Do you remember that? Brace yourself… He died December 5, 2013. Here is the WIkipedia page.

If you think I am totally batshit crazy, you can check out The Mandela Effect’s Major Memories page and start scrolling. They have a list of them. I had to Google some of them because I was like, “No. It’s BarbAra Streisand! Not Barbra!” *types in Google* “Wait. Whaaaa….???” The comments have other ones so enjoy the read.

Have you experienced the Mandela effect? Let me know in the comments. I am curious to hear your experiences.

If you think we are all crazy, that’s cool (check the title of my blog), we still love ya!

50 Questions: A Deep Dark Secret

Share a secret you’ve never told anyone. Until now…

I was pondering this question for a while. I am an open and honest person. Sometimes to the point of it being a fault of mine. If you ask me a question, I will tell you the answer. It might not be the answer you were looking for, but I will tell you anyway. After all, you asked for it! So, I thought about all the secrets I could tell you guys.

Had a son who died because I took him off life support… nope, already told that.

All my medical conditions… talk about them all the time.

My children… talk about them all the time too.

My ex… talk about him some too.

There really isn’t anything very secretive about me at all. And then I had a conversation with someone (who wishes not to be named on my blog) about life, death, poverty, and self-image; and it hit me! I know what secrets I am going to share. I say secrets because they go hand in hand. Get the happy pills ready… here we go!

Death is not an end

This isn’t really a huge secret. Many people believe in an afterlife. But I do remember things that aren’t from this life. I remember them vividly. I have had out of body experiences and near death experiences. I can tell you that is what shaped my beliefs, partly. This is why I would never commit suicide. You can kill your body, but the soul continues on and you will be reborn into something or someone. Your energy is what makes you who you are. Not so much the body. The body is just a physical experience you claim before you are born.

Call me crazy all you want but, I warned you about that when I called my blog “Crazy Woman’s Journal“.

Let’s say you have a shitty life and you decide to off yourself. You will get to redo the life over again. Maybe not the exact same life, but one with similar problems. You can get a new life here in this time or in an alternate universe. It won’t matter if you kill yourself because you will get to redo it over and over until you live the life you are supposed to complete.

Analogy time! Your life is a series of books…

It would be like if your life were a series of books. You were reading through the books and decided in book 3 that you didn’t want to read them anymore and threw them in the trash. You went to the life library and picked a new set of books and started reading. But damn it! These books are following the same story line as the last series. You toss that set in the trash too and go back for another series to read.

This next series is JUST like the last two series. Same type of characters, same settings, and I swayer to you, the story is the same as the first two. Only this time you begrudgingly finish reading the series to learn something amazing, some life altering experience that you didn’t expect.

So, while the books sucked at first, and droned on in some areas, and one chapter just described a cat’s fur, the story line (as a whole) has a purpose.

That purpose sometimes sucks

While some lives are meant to change something or be amazing, other lives are a form of punishment. I call this idea “The Good, the bad, and the ugly”.

The Good

Some people get to have amazing lives with “demons” they still have to battle or overcome. They might create a mega-company that changes the world. They might become doctors who revolutionize cancer treatments. They might be some guy who discovers something great but it’s not recognized in this life. They might be an artist who touches many. There are so many great lives people can live.

The Bad

Then there are the shitty lives where you just seem to suffer, can never get ahead, or spend the rest of your life in jail or as a slave. These lives aren’t pointless though. They have meaning too. They serve a purpose. Sometimes they are for you to learn some lesson about hardship.

Like, how to live frugally… or how to survive in the mountains after a government overthrow… or how to live homeless… or how you can survive living in chronic pain even though it sucks ass… or to teach you to stand up for yourself when you have lived an oppressed life… or how to change your way of thinking and not be so closed-minded… or a chance to fight in a revolution and help make a change.

The Ugly

It can also be a punishment. It’s a life meant for paying a karmic debt, for lack of a better word.

Let’s say that you had a life where you decided to try making lamp shades out of your friend’s skin and stew out of there brains and vital organs. In that life, you got away with it and caused a lot of pain to many people, not just the one’s you killed off and consumed. Their families, their friends, the community, the state, the nation… everyone who was effected by your murderous, carnivorous, interior decorating spree adds to your karmic debt.

If, in that life, you were caught, went to jail, found remorse, and tried to better yourself; your karmic debt would be less. But that life, you managed to evade police, killed a puppy or ten for fun, set random fires that no one linked to you, and basically were just a psychopathic asshole. Your karmic debt would probably follow you through several lives of becoming Mother Teresa or Princess Di before you would be out of karmic debt.

Not all karmic debt if that extreme though. Sometimes you just suffer through a disease but end up beating it because your karmic debt is paid. Or you have a series of bad things happen but nothing that sends you to a padded room. It’s things that you survive and make it through… and then you help others get through the same thing and your karmic debt gets better each time.

Basically, it’s complicated.

Deep Dark Secret #2: My Karmic Debt

I sometimes jokingly say that whatever I did in my last life must have been horrible to deserve such a shit life like this. But honestly, I don’t think it was really that bad because I could have it much worse. 

I do honestly think that this life is here as part of a karmic debt and part as a lesson that I have not figured out yet. Whatever I did in a past life wasn’t heinous like the murderous example above but it hurt a lot of people nonetheless and now I am paying my debt.

I am assuming here… It probably has something to do with medical since I am living with so many medical problems and I have a hard time with doctors treating me horrible. It probably has something to do with affection since I have trouble bonding with people. Or maybe those are just random forms of punishment that were doled out it has nothing to do with that at all.

Anyway, I do believe that this life is a punishment (for lack of a better word) where I am paying my karmic debt. I have trouble seeing myself as anything good which, I think, is part of the debt. People tell me I am talented, amazing, and all sorts of amazing things but I just can’t see it. I wish that for one day, I could see myself through someone else’s eyes.

Here is a minor example. I drew this picture of my cat, Sweetie. People say it is amazing and I did a great job. I don’t see it. I don’t see why it is so good. I can see all my mistakes though.

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I think the disconnection I feel is just a part of my karmic debt. I can connect just enough so that I am not completely isolated emotionally. But, if I bond with someone or get close to them, they are taken away in one form or another. I am supposed to be alone this life (this much I know). At some point I may bond with someone and they won’t disappear, and then I will know my karmic debt is paid. It may not happen in this life. If it doesn’t, then I know it will happen early in my next life and we will be very close.

Until then, I only have enough bonding to keep me from going insane. When I meet a person that I instantly feel like I could bond with, I find myself pushing them away. Not because I don’t want to have a bond with people but because I don’t want my friends to keep dying off at an amazing rate and in violent manners. I imagine that the person who pushes back and won’t go away… I imagine that is the person that will help me see my worth and finally have my debt paid.

So, if you are my friend and wonder why I tend to run away and not get close to you, this is why. It’s my punishment. And I am sorry for it but I don’t know how to change it, or make it better, or make my friends stop disappearing, or make them stop dying, or make them stay without clinging to them so much that they start to hate me. But mostly, I am sorry.

I don’t know what karmic debt I am repaying but I hurt someone really bad and now, I am paying for it with this life. There are no words that can convey my sorrow.