Shelly Steele

I was NEVER going to be like my mom. Nope...not gonna be me. Flash forward to current year...holy crap. I'm just like her! How the hell did that happen?

Okay, so I'm not "exactly" like my mom, but I can see the resemblance. I mean, my 96 year old great-grandma still thinks I'm my mom if I call her. Then again, she's 96 and not all with it anymore. But enough about them...how about a little info on me? I mean, that's what this site is about, right? About.me!

I'm almost 35 (take deep breath..it'll be okay)

I'm a full time Insurance Specialist for a local laboratory. If you have a question about Medicare, Medical Mutual or any other insurance..just ask. I can either give you the correct answer or something close to it.

Currently working on a Bachelor's Degree in Health Care Management through National American University. (Classes are soooo dry!!!)

Just signed up to start taking classes for Funeral Service Administration. Yes you are reading that correctly, Funeral Service Administration. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to work in a funeral home. I blame my great-grandpa, rest his soul. He used to work at one and I just thought that was the coolest. And dead people don't talk back to you...well they may talk to me. Lead in to the next bullet...

I've been recently diagnosed with Borderline Schizophrenia. Whoo hoo!!! I'm clinically crazy!! The reason I'm "borderline" is because I can differenciate (I need to learn to spell) between reality and my hallucinations. When I'm having the hallucinations, I know that it's not really happening, yet my brain keeps telling me that it is. The Risperidone seems to be working, so the spiders have been keeping to themselves lately.

I'm obsessed with gnomes. Garden Gnomes, Lawn Gnomes, Gnomes, Gnomes, Gnomes. I literally have about 80 eyes staring at me right now. My boyfriend is an enabler. He will buy me gnomes to add to my collection and he never tells me that I should stop buying them.

I have a 17 year old son, who people think is my brother if we're with my mom for some reason. I can still hear his friend yelling to him, "Dude, your sister is yelling for you!" after a soccer game when he was 8. My son, not missing a beat, yelled back, "That's my mom!" Still makes me smile. He's my miracle baby (3lb 8 oz) and I'd give my life for him.

That's me in a nutshell.