and Max
the king of all wild things
was lonely and wanted to be
where someone loved him best of all.
Yesterday I received a package from Jeff. It was the book "Where the Wild Things Are" and a tiny little DVD. I had known that he had gone to the USO and filmed himself reading the book to Alec, but I was unprepared for how strongly it would affect us.
I gathered Alec up, snuggled him in my lap, handed him the book and pressed play on the remote control. Alec looked at the TV, turned around and looked at me. I said, "There's Daddy!" and he pushed the book aside and lunged for the screen. Jeff had recorded the video so that when he was done reading a page, he would put it to the screen so that he could show the pictures. In doing so, he slightly covered his face. Whenever the camera went back to him, Alec would crack up. He laughed, pointed, and said "Dada" over and over again. Every time he saw Jeff's face it would start him anew. I swear, I haven't seen Alec so happy and excited in a very long time.
Of course it killed me. Every time Alec laughed, I started to cry. And obviously I had to hide it from him. It felt like my heart was being stabbed. That was a strange mixture of emotion. On one hand, I was elated that Alec was able to 'see' his father, relieved that he hadn't forgotten him, and thrilled to see Jeff myself. On the other hand, it really cemented how much I miss my husband. I don't know how to describe it (imagine that! ME at a loss for words!) but it made me want to bury my head into Jeff's arm and never leave. I don't know if any of you have ever ached to touch someone.
Jeff has recorded another book. We should receive that in a week or so. He wants to record a story every week on his day off, so that he can build Alec's library. I know that each and every book and DVD that Alec gets he's going to be so very happy. Hopefully, I'll get to the point where I don't feel like my heart is being ripped out. After all, I love what he's doing. It's truly the most wonderful gift a parent can give to their child... the gift of themselves.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Go AWAY!!!
Aug 6, 2006
What was I thinking??
This is really difficult for me.
I need closure. I need to be able to deal with this so I can completely let go of my past.
Here's the thing. I've always considered myself an open-minded, well adjusted sort of person. I know I've been through a lot of "difficult" things but this experience that you are about to read is probably one of the worst. I lost myself. Keep your mind open while reading this, even though it's a lot of information there is still so much more. If anyone ever has any questions, please feel free to ask. I'm not ashamed anymore.
In 1998 I met a man we'll name "M". When I first met him I thought he was a pretty cool guy. Attractive, quiet, mysterious. I found out about his past. He had come from a really tragic background, badly abused by his foster parents and I felt so bad for him. When we first began dating we argued a lot. I thought it was just a sign of all the passion we had for one another. The arguments escalated pretty rapidly. He would get mad about the most trivial things; being unable to locate the remote control would send him into such a rage that he would punch the living room wall. After several months of dating, we split up. I couldn't deal with that kind of temper and I think he thought I nagged too much.
In December of 1999 we began dating again. I was in a really vulnerable place. My best friend, Danielle had been murdered earlier that year and I was having a lot of trouble finding my place in the world without her. "M" had known my friend, and I thought he would be able to help me deal with the loss. I moved in with him. The arguments started right away. Now, I'm sure that I probably fueled some of the fire, but he would get really nasty. He had a history of cutting himself, and when we would get into really big fights, he would slash open his arm. One time I even had to take him to the Emergency room. He didn't just reserve his anger for hurting himself. He shoved me a lot, called me a bitch, was really ugly. Once in our 1st apartment he shoved me into the wall when a nail was sticking out and it went into my forehead.
Now, I'm not stupid. I've volunteered for women's shelters, and I knew I was in an abusive relationship, I just didn't know how to get out of it. I felt horrible about his past. I'd found out that when he was a child he tried to hang himself when he was told he was adopted. He was really badly beaten by his foster father, and I thought that there had to be a way of helping him become healthy again. If I just loved him enough, he could become the man I thought he could be. I should have known better.
After a year of living together "M" told me a secret. We had just come home from Insurrection in Atlanta, and I'd thought we'd had a blast looking at all the porno mags and what not. He sat me down and told me he felt dirty and ashamed. Crying, he told me about a secret fetish of his. "M" liked to wear diapers. I didn't know what to say. I was shocked, but confused. I don't know if I was ever in love with him, but I certainly know that I did love him. How do you respond to a secret like that? Was I supposed to pack up all my things and move out immediately? Part of me definitely wanted to, but then I also felt I could maybe help him work through this. See, in my mind, I felt he just wanted the comfort of being a child that was safe and loved. I knew that he had never gotten that from his childhood, and thought maybe I could see this as a form of self-therapy. I listened to him, and tried not to judge what he was telling me.
Time went by and "M" wanted me to now join him in his fetish. He wanted me to be the babysitter or the mommy in his sexual fantasies. He bought pacifiers, bottles, wipes, baby powder and of course diapers. He wasnt happy with adult types, he would buy the childrens kind and tape two together. He liked the rustling sound that the baby kind made. I was grossed out, but I didn't know what to do. Im a sexual being, and I'd engaged in fantasy role-playing in the past, so I just tried to go with it. I thought weird sex was better than no sex at all. Eventually he exposed more of his secret sexual life. I had noticed that my panties were sometimes missing, and I wouldn't be able to find certain clothes of mine. I confronted him and he confessed to cross dressing. Again, I was freaked out. I was seeing a therapist at the time, and she told me that perhaps "M" was just expressing his feminine side. For instance, if he had come home from worked and hugged a teddy bear would I be disgusted with that? I don't believe the comparison was fair, but I still tried to work around it. "M" started wearing the panties under his work clothes. He felt it helped him when he was at work stay close to Michelle (his pseudonym female personality.)
He still continued to be abusive. One night after some really heavy drinking, he attempted to have sex with me. Of course, now, I never felt like a sexual being. How can you when the man you're with looks better in lingerie than you do? Also, Im definitely not a lesbian. I didn't want to make out with a man wearing women's clothing and makeup. Anyway, when he came on to me, I tried to avoid his advances. One thing led to another that night, and I remembered him holding me down, me laying on the bed, his knees on my chest while I was crying. I got away for a little bit and he slammed me into a post in the living room, leaving a huge bruise on my arm. He pushed me back on the bed and head butted me. I dont remember the rest of what happened that night, it was a blur. The next day he cried and told me how sorry he was. He hadn't meant to hurt me, if I would just take him back he promised he would never again hit me. Like a fool, I believed him. To make things up to me, he would take me to Savannah, my favorite place in the world. Things were actually ok on that trip, but when we got back home, we wound up getting in another fight and he punched me in the face, blacking my eye. I called into work sick the next day. I told everyone I had gotten sick from some bad shrimp and while throwing up I had blacked my own eye.
I left him that week. I went to Atlanta and stayed with my friend Ryan. (He was the only person who ever knew what happened during the relationship.) "M" called me constantly, showed up at my work, left flowers on my car, and finally when he couldnt get a response from me, called me telling me he was going to kill himself. I left work and came to our apartment. He was laying in a full tub of hot water with long vertical gashes running down both his arms. He was bleeding a lot. When I left him that night I was deeply confused. I didn't want to be responsible for his suicide, but I never wanted to get hit again. That night I went out with an old friend. He told me he was dying. He was really sick, and didn't know how to handle it. I cried, not wanting to lose another friend and called "M" to talk about it. He asked me to come over, telling me he had started going to anger management. I moved back in. (I know, I'm a fool!) A week later I found out that he wasnt telling the truth. He hadn't gone to therapy at all. He had tried, but felt embarrassed, so he backed out of it.
A couple of weeks later we moved out of our apartment into a much nicer one. I felt like we could make a fresh start. For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like real progress. He had promised me that he wasnt going to wear panties anymore, and the whole diaper thing seemed like an old nightmare. One night, however when we were cleaning house together, we got into a fight. I had asked him to hand me a roll of trash bags and instead of handing them to me, he through them at me with such force that it whacked me on my back and left a huge whelp. I started crying and yelling at him, and he ran into the kitchen and stomped on my toes. I got away from him and grabbed one of his belts that was laying on the floor and started swinging it around me in a defensive maneuver. I didnt want him to get close to me. Of course, he still came at me, and when I hit him with the belt he reached to the floor and grabbed a boot of mine. He hit me on the head with it. All of a sudden my head felt wet. I ran into the bathroom, screaming and he followed me in there apologizing. He claimed to have felt like I was his father with the belt, and he said he just freaked out. I probably needed stitches, but I was too embarrassed to go to the ER.
After that, I know I should have left him for good, but again, I felt like he was just lashing out because of his messed up past. I tried to see the good in him, tried to make things work, but it was hard. "M" started with the cross dressing again. I would come home (he was supposed to pick me up, but would invariably have passed out, leaving me to catch a ride with co-workers) and find him sleeping on the bed with remnants of mascara around his eyes. I would yell at him to wake up and he would rush to the bathroom to clean himself. I started finding other bizarre things, too. My tampons would go missing. I later found out he was using them on himself. I found receipts for underwear, and vibrators that I knew didnt belong to me. I found my computer toner had been run out when I hadnt printed anything. He had been going to cross dressing web sites and printing out pictures of the she-males on there. Then, I found my diary next to his porno magazines. I was going crazy. How is anyone supposed to live like that? Every time I would try to leave him he would tell me I was being unsupportive and judgmental. He would call me "vanilla" and tell me I was close-minded. I tried to tell him that his lifestyle choice was fine for him, but not for me and how dare he try to make it? He wanted me to become his mistress. He wanted me to lay down the law and boss him around. He wanted to give me his paychecks and make me in charge of everything. He wanted me to yell at him and call him names, humiliate him. The f*cked up thing is, I tried it. I started hitting him all the time now. In my head it was payback. He didnt clean up the kitchen like I had asked him to? I would beat him with clothes hangers. In my mind I knew how wrong it was, but I was so very angry. I hated him for making me something that I wasn;t. I hated him for hitting me. I hated him for hurting me. I hated him for making me feel sorry for him.
I would come home to weirder and weirder situations. He started shaving his legs and underarms. One night I came home and found him in a reverse eagle position using a vibrator on himself. I also came home to find him vacuuming the house in a French maid uniform. I remember being dull to that sort of thing, but still being in shock that he didn't have the decency to close the blinds. For everything that I was going through, I didn't want anyone else to know. I felt like they would judge me. Think I was a sick person for staying through all that crap. In my mind I made justifications. He had been abused when his sister hadn't so maybe he thought women were treated better and thats why he wanted to be one. How could I explain that to someone else?
Finally, I grew sick and tired of all the crap. I was sick of yelling all the time. I was sick of being pushed into the walls of our apartment. I was sick of being called a bitch. I was sick of making excuses to my family and the few friends I had left. I was sick of being sad. I was sick of trying to explain to him that we in fact, did NOT have a healthy relationship. I tried to get him into counseling. Nothing worked. One night I had a dream about a man that I had been in love with for a very long time. I saw myself happy. I didnt know how to get to that place, but I knew I had to try. I had given up on myself. I no longer believed in me and I was absolutely miserable. I had gained so much weight, stopped wearing makeup, and had begun dressing in baggy clothes. I now know that those are the symptoms of someone who is depressed and beat down.
I left "M" in April of 2004. Of course, he never understood why I left. I didn't leave him for someone else, even though he thought I did, and I'm now in a happy healthy relationship. He hates me now. He thinks I'm the one responsible for all of his pain. I know I'm not. I don't put up with bullshit anymore.
I stick up for me.
If you have ever been abused, know someone who has, or know someone who knows someone please tell them it is never to late to leave. I can't tell you how many times I felt alone, scared, and fearing for my safety. Forward them my blog. Trust me, if I can come through this and still retain my dignity, anyone can.
Thank you for reading this.
What was I thinking??
This is really difficult for me.
I need closure. I need to be able to deal with this so I can completely let go of my past.
Here's the thing. I've always considered myself an open-minded, well adjusted sort of person. I know I've been through a lot of "difficult" things but this experience that you are about to read is probably one of the worst. I lost myself. Keep your mind open while reading this, even though it's a lot of information there is still so much more. If anyone ever has any questions, please feel free to ask. I'm not ashamed anymore.
In 1998 I met a man we'll name "M". When I first met him I thought he was a pretty cool guy. Attractive, quiet, mysterious. I found out about his past. He had come from a really tragic background, badly abused by his foster parents and I felt so bad for him. When we first began dating we argued a lot. I thought it was just a sign of all the passion we had for one another. The arguments escalated pretty rapidly. He would get mad about the most trivial things; being unable to locate the remote control would send him into such a rage that he would punch the living room wall. After several months of dating, we split up. I couldn't deal with that kind of temper and I think he thought I nagged too much.
In December of 1999 we began dating again. I was in a really vulnerable place. My best friend, Danielle had been murdered earlier that year and I was having a lot of trouble finding my place in the world without her. "M" had known my friend, and I thought he would be able to help me deal with the loss. I moved in with him. The arguments started right away. Now, I'm sure that I probably fueled some of the fire, but he would get really nasty. He had a history of cutting himself, and when we would get into really big fights, he would slash open his arm. One time I even had to take him to the Emergency room. He didn't just reserve his anger for hurting himself. He shoved me a lot, called me a bitch, was really ugly. Once in our 1st apartment he shoved me into the wall when a nail was sticking out and it went into my forehead.
Now, I'm not stupid. I've volunteered for women's shelters, and I knew I was in an abusive relationship, I just didn't know how to get out of it. I felt horrible about his past. I'd found out that when he was a child he tried to hang himself when he was told he was adopted. He was really badly beaten by his foster father, and I thought that there had to be a way of helping him become healthy again. If I just loved him enough, he could become the man I thought he could be. I should have known better.
After a year of living together "M" told me a secret. We had just come home from Insurrection in Atlanta, and I'd thought we'd had a blast looking at all the porno mags and what not. He sat me down and told me he felt dirty and ashamed. Crying, he told me about a secret fetish of his. "M" liked to wear diapers. I didn't know what to say. I was shocked, but confused. I don't know if I was ever in love with him, but I certainly know that I did love him. How do you respond to a secret like that? Was I supposed to pack up all my things and move out immediately? Part of me definitely wanted to, but then I also felt I could maybe help him work through this. See, in my mind, I felt he just wanted the comfort of being a child that was safe and loved. I knew that he had never gotten that from his childhood, and thought maybe I could see this as a form of self-therapy. I listened to him, and tried not to judge what he was telling me.
Time went by and "M" wanted me to now join him in his fetish. He wanted me to be the babysitter or the mommy in his sexual fantasies. He bought pacifiers, bottles, wipes, baby powder and of course diapers. He wasnt happy with adult types, he would buy the childrens kind and tape two together. He liked the rustling sound that the baby kind made. I was grossed out, but I didn't know what to do. Im a sexual being, and I'd engaged in fantasy role-playing in the past, so I just tried to go with it. I thought weird sex was better than no sex at all. Eventually he exposed more of his secret sexual life. I had noticed that my panties were sometimes missing, and I wouldn't be able to find certain clothes of mine. I confronted him and he confessed to cross dressing. Again, I was freaked out. I was seeing a therapist at the time, and she told me that perhaps "M" was just expressing his feminine side. For instance, if he had come home from worked and hugged a teddy bear would I be disgusted with that? I don't believe the comparison was fair, but I still tried to work around it. "M" started wearing the panties under his work clothes. He felt it helped him when he was at work stay close to Michelle (his pseudonym female personality.)
He still continued to be abusive. One night after some really heavy drinking, he attempted to have sex with me. Of course, now, I never felt like a sexual being. How can you when the man you're with looks better in lingerie than you do? Also, Im definitely not a lesbian. I didn't want to make out with a man wearing women's clothing and makeup. Anyway, when he came on to me, I tried to avoid his advances. One thing led to another that night, and I remembered him holding me down, me laying on the bed, his knees on my chest while I was crying. I got away for a little bit and he slammed me into a post in the living room, leaving a huge bruise on my arm. He pushed me back on the bed and head butted me. I dont remember the rest of what happened that night, it was a blur. The next day he cried and told me how sorry he was. He hadn't meant to hurt me, if I would just take him back he promised he would never again hit me. Like a fool, I believed him. To make things up to me, he would take me to Savannah, my favorite place in the world. Things were actually ok on that trip, but when we got back home, we wound up getting in another fight and he punched me in the face, blacking my eye. I called into work sick the next day. I told everyone I had gotten sick from some bad shrimp and while throwing up I had blacked my own eye.
I left him that week. I went to Atlanta and stayed with my friend Ryan. (He was the only person who ever knew what happened during the relationship.) "M" called me constantly, showed up at my work, left flowers on my car, and finally when he couldnt get a response from me, called me telling me he was going to kill himself. I left work and came to our apartment. He was laying in a full tub of hot water with long vertical gashes running down both his arms. He was bleeding a lot. When I left him that night I was deeply confused. I didn't want to be responsible for his suicide, but I never wanted to get hit again. That night I went out with an old friend. He told me he was dying. He was really sick, and didn't know how to handle it. I cried, not wanting to lose another friend and called "M" to talk about it. He asked me to come over, telling me he had started going to anger management. I moved back in. (I know, I'm a fool!) A week later I found out that he wasnt telling the truth. He hadn't gone to therapy at all. He had tried, but felt embarrassed, so he backed out of it.
A couple of weeks later we moved out of our apartment into a much nicer one. I felt like we could make a fresh start. For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like real progress. He had promised me that he wasnt going to wear panties anymore, and the whole diaper thing seemed like an old nightmare. One night, however when we were cleaning house together, we got into a fight. I had asked him to hand me a roll of trash bags and instead of handing them to me, he through them at me with such force that it whacked me on my back and left a huge whelp. I started crying and yelling at him, and he ran into the kitchen and stomped on my toes. I got away from him and grabbed one of his belts that was laying on the floor and started swinging it around me in a defensive maneuver. I didnt want him to get close to me. Of course, he still came at me, and when I hit him with the belt he reached to the floor and grabbed a boot of mine. He hit me on the head with it. All of a sudden my head felt wet. I ran into the bathroom, screaming and he followed me in there apologizing. He claimed to have felt like I was his father with the belt, and he said he just freaked out. I probably needed stitches, but I was too embarrassed to go to the ER.
After that, I know I should have left him for good, but again, I felt like he was just lashing out because of his messed up past. I tried to see the good in him, tried to make things work, but it was hard. "M" started with the cross dressing again. I would come home (he was supposed to pick me up, but would invariably have passed out, leaving me to catch a ride with co-workers) and find him sleeping on the bed with remnants of mascara around his eyes. I would yell at him to wake up and he would rush to the bathroom to clean himself. I started finding other bizarre things, too. My tampons would go missing. I later found out he was using them on himself. I found receipts for underwear, and vibrators that I knew didnt belong to me. I found my computer toner had been run out when I hadnt printed anything. He had been going to cross dressing web sites and printing out pictures of the she-males on there. Then, I found my diary next to his porno magazines. I was going crazy. How is anyone supposed to live like that? Every time I would try to leave him he would tell me I was being unsupportive and judgmental. He would call me "vanilla" and tell me I was close-minded. I tried to tell him that his lifestyle choice was fine for him, but not for me and how dare he try to make it? He wanted me to become his mistress. He wanted me to lay down the law and boss him around. He wanted to give me his paychecks and make me in charge of everything. He wanted me to yell at him and call him names, humiliate him. The f*cked up thing is, I tried it. I started hitting him all the time now. In my head it was payback. He didnt clean up the kitchen like I had asked him to? I would beat him with clothes hangers. In my mind I knew how wrong it was, but I was so very angry. I hated him for making me something that I wasn;t. I hated him for hitting me. I hated him for hurting me. I hated him for making me feel sorry for him.
I would come home to weirder and weirder situations. He started shaving his legs and underarms. One night I came home and found him in a reverse eagle position using a vibrator on himself. I also came home to find him vacuuming the house in a French maid uniform. I remember being dull to that sort of thing, but still being in shock that he didn't have the decency to close the blinds. For everything that I was going through, I didn't want anyone else to know. I felt like they would judge me. Think I was a sick person for staying through all that crap. In my mind I made justifications. He had been abused when his sister hadn't so maybe he thought women were treated better and thats why he wanted to be one. How could I explain that to someone else?
Finally, I grew sick and tired of all the crap. I was sick of yelling all the time. I was sick of being pushed into the walls of our apartment. I was sick of being called a bitch. I was sick of making excuses to my family and the few friends I had left. I was sick of being sad. I was sick of trying to explain to him that we in fact, did NOT have a healthy relationship. I tried to get him into counseling. Nothing worked. One night I had a dream about a man that I had been in love with for a very long time. I saw myself happy. I didnt know how to get to that place, but I knew I had to try. I had given up on myself. I no longer believed in me and I was absolutely miserable. I had gained so much weight, stopped wearing makeup, and had begun dressing in baggy clothes. I now know that those are the symptoms of someone who is depressed and beat down.
I left "M" in April of 2004. Of course, he never understood why I left. I didn't leave him for someone else, even though he thought I did, and I'm now in a happy healthy relationship. He hates me now. He thinks I'm the one responsible for all of his pain. I know I'm not. I don't put up with bullshit anymore.
I stick up for me.
If you have ever been abused, know someone who has, or know someone who knows someone please tell them it is never to late to leave. I can't tell you how many times I felt alone, scared, and fearing for my safety. Forward them my blog. Trust me, if I can come through this and still retain my dignity, anyone can.
Thank you for reading this.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Mama told me there'd be days like this
Today sucks.
My anxiety levels are through the roof. I feel worried, suspicious, and slightly desperate. I don't think that any one thing has triggered this; this is hitting me from multiple angles.
I'm trying to reassure myself that it's just the Wellbutrin. I know that it can initially create some anxiety before it starts working properly.
I tried to sweat out the agitation but that didn't work. Now I'm just sitting at the computer, eating pistachios, and hoping that I hear from Jeff soon.
My anxiety levels are through the roof. I feel worried, suspicious, and slightly desperate. I don't think that any one thing has triggered this; this is hitting me from multiple angles.
I'm trying to reassure myself that it's just the Wellbutrin. I know that it can initially create some anxiety before it starts working properly.
I tried to sweat out the agitation but that didn't work. Now I'm just sitting at the computer, eating pistachios, and hoping that I hear from Jeff soon.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
I love drama... Just make sure it's a period piece.
So, this has been some* week. I can do without all the excitement.
When I was younger, I thrived on drama. In the workplace, with my friends, with my lovers... the juicier the better. When I first started dating Jeff, I was surprised by how smoothly things went. I figured that something must be wrong. What was he hiding? He must have several thousand skeletons hiding in his closet. I'm not proud of it, but I stirred the pot on occasion. Nothing big, but I started more than a couple of arguments. Just your basic "You don't really love me, do you?" kind of stuff. Fortunately for me, he really does love me.
Slowly, over time, I began to appreciate a life without chaos. I began to recognize the worth in a relationship without those crazy highs and deep, dark lows. I started to revel in the "vanilla" that made up our day to day life. Today, I am thoroughly spoiled. I mean, we still bicker every now and then.. what couple doesn't? For the most part though, we get along well, and I consider Jeff my best friend.
So imagine my disdain for all the bullshit that has occurred this past week. All the 'Disorder' that I've been able to weed out of my life (and it hasn't been easy. Some things/people just don't want to leave) has come to visit. In fact, it's walked right in my front door and found a comfortable spot on the couch. It looks like it's brought luggage. I need to nip this in the bud, show it the front door. I have a plan to escort the dysfunction from my life- it may seem simple, but it's difficult to put into action.
First on my list has been starting an antidepressant. Wellbutrin, in fact. My Dr didn't even blink when I asked for it. Having a husband in Iraq and finding a lump on your breast would probably give anyone anxiety.
Next up is scheduling my appointments for the mammogram/ultrasound and the breast specialist. I really want to play "ostrich" right now, but I have a little boy that probably wants me around for a long time.
I'm trying to de-clutter my life. I have been going to the storage facility, grabbing a box or a bag, and bringing it "home" to go through. I really don't want to hang on to every little thing..... Actually, I have to find a way to organize all the cards that Jeff and I have given each other. I just can't throw those out. (Any ideas that don't involve scrapbooking? I suck at that.) Also, many of my friends and family know that I've given up my beloved collection of all things girly (all my lotions, body washes, perfumes and makeup) in order to reduce my chemical exposure. I missed out on an opportunity to sell most of it at my SIL's yardsale, and I have a box of stuff for a friend of mine... just waiting for her to give birth! Right now everything is just sitting in my youngest brother's old bedroom, driving me bonkers. I think I've actually heard it call out to me in the middle of the night. Nobody has to know, Anna. Just me and you. C'mon, baby. You know you still want me. Give me a little spritz. I need you. Ok... maybe not, but I'll feel much better when I get that crap out of the house.
Finally, I'm trying to simply breathe. I know that I can't merely will my life be perfect. I admit, I have a problem with control and relinquishing any of it is a difficult task for me. I am trying to let go, trying to find my path, trying to reach Zen, trying to just Be. I know that my life is currently disharmonious, and it will continue to be until Jeff comes home, but I would like a bit of that peace back.
The most difficult task in life is taking a leap.You have to be courageous. You have to find the strength. You have to be willing to fall. Not every leap is over a canyon, some are just the cracks on the sidewalk.
It's those cracks that frighten me. I want to walk softly and quietly, and hope that if I fall down, there are people willing to help me back up.
-------------------------------------------------
*My upsets from this past week have included (but are not limited to):
When I was younger, I thrived on drama. In the workplace, with my friends, with my lovers... the juicier the better. When I first started dating Jeff, I was surprised by how smoothly things went. I figured that something must be wrong. What was he hiding? He must have several thousand skeletons hiding in his closet. I'm not proud of it, but I stirred the pot on occasion. Nothing big, but I started more than a couple of arguments. Just your basic "You don't really love me, do you?" kind of stuff. Fortunately for me, he really does love me.
Slowly, over time, I began to appreciate a life without chaos. I began to recognize the worth in a relationship without those crazy highs and deep, dark lows. I started to revel in the "vanilla" that made up our day to day life. Today, I am thoroughly spoiled. I mean, we still bicker every now and then.. what couple doesn't? For the most part though, we get along well, and I consider Jeff my best friend.
So imagine my disdain for all the bullshit that has occurred this past week. All the 'Disorder' that I've been able to weed out of my life (and it hasn't been easy. Some things/people just don't want to leave) has come to visit. In fact, it's walked right in my front door and found a comfortable spot on the couch. It looks like it's brought luggage. I need to nip this in the bud, show it the front door. I have a plan to escort the dysfunction from my life- it may seem simple, but it's difficult to put into action.
First on my list has been starting an antidepressant. Wellbutrin, in fact. My Dr didn't even blink when I asked for it. Having a husband in Iraq and finding a lump on your breast would probably give anyone anxiety.
Next up is scheduling my appointments for the mammogram/ultrasound and the breast specialist. I really want to play "ostrich" right now, but I have a little boy that probably wants me around for a long time.
I'm trying to de-clutter my life. I have been going to the storage facility, grabbing a box or a bag, and bringing it "home" to go through. I really don't want to hang on to every little thing..... Actually, I have to find a way to organize all the cards that Jeff and I have given each other. I just can't throw those out. (Any ideas that don't involve scrapbooking? I suck at that.) Also, many of my friends and family know that I've given up my beloved collection of all things girly (all my lotions, body washes, perfumes and makeup) in order to reduce my chemical exposure. I missed out on an opportunity to sell most of it at my SIL's yardsale, and I have a box of stuff for a friend of mine... just waiting for her to give birth! Right now everything is just sitting in my youngest brother's old bedroom, driving me bonkers. I think I've actually heard it call out to me in the middle of the night. Nobody has to know, Anna. Just me and you. C'mon, baby. You know you still want me. Give me a little spritz. I need you. Ok... maybe not, but I'll feel much better when I get that crap out of the house.
Finally, I'm trying to simply breathe. I know that I can't merely will my life be perfect. I admit, I have a problem with control and relinquishing any of it is a difficult task for me. I am trying to let go, trying to find my path, trying to reach Zen, trying to just Be. I know that my life is currently disharmonious, and it will continue to be until Jeff comes home, but I would like a bit of that peace back.
The most difficult task in life is taking a leap.You have to be courageous. You have to find the strength. You have to be willing to fall. Not every leap is over a canyon, some are just the cracks on the sidewalk.
It's those cracks that frighten me. I want to walk softly and quietly, and hope that if I fall down, there are people willing to help me back up.
-------------------------------------------------
*My upsets from this past week have included (but are not limited to):
- Alec and I were chased by an aggressive pit bull. I'm really aggravated because now I'm afraid to walk in that area. Does 'Killer' care nothing for my cardio workout?
- I had to argue and debate with
a bitchyan unpleasant pharmacy manager in order to resolve a simple problem. I think some people like to spread their unhappiness. - My Diaper Genie has broken and only Jeff knows how to fix it (sometimes it's the small things.)
- I turned 33. Yeah. I'm getting really old. Can I still say I'm in my early 30's? Can I get away with late 20's? Didn't think so.
- I miss my friend. Danielle would have turned 32 on the 16th. Time may heal all wounds, but the scar runs deep.
- I have been dealing with my lump. I'm trying to remain positive, but it's difficult when all I really want is my husband to hold and comfort me, and that's impossible.
- Jeff's safety. He tells me things that I can't really share with the general public, and some of it really scares me. Faith is a difficult concept for me to grasp, but I must trust that he will be fine. He has told me that he's not worried, and I shouldn't be either. I'm going to have to put my confidence in him.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
So, Jeff will be deploying on Sunday. I knew this might be coming, but you're never emotionally prepared for it. I know he's going to be fine, but still can't help worrying. I mean, he's going to Iraq... not exactly a "safe" zone, although I guess Afghanistan would be worse. He'll be gone for four long months. He'll miss Christmas, but at least Alec's too young to remember. We'll just celebrate when he gets back.
I know this will be hard on him. He is going to miss Alec SO much, and Alec's going to miss his daddy too. I'm going to miss him. He's such a great father. He loves Alec more than I could have thought possible. He's protective, not just of his safety, but of his emotional needs, too.
He takes care of things. I know that sounds simple, but it means so much. He takes out the trash without being asked. He changes the Diaper Genie so that I don't have to think about it. He does the dishes at night while I put Alec to sleep. He kisses us goodbye in the morning when he thinks we're asleep. When he goes to the grocery store he always gets me a little treat. I know that sounds silly, but do you know how important it is to have a man think about your chocolate needs?
It's much more than what he *does* that makes this so hard. He is my emotional safe place. It's hard to really put into words, but Jeff grounds me. He always calmly listens to my newest passions or woes, and laughs (but not in a mean way) at my latest antics. He always asks me how my day was and he really cares. He doesn't ever patronize me. We laugh together, even over the silliest things. When we argue (full disclosure: He doesn't really argue with me. I just bitch a lot and he listens.) we still find a way to laugh. There is a song by Sarah McLachlan called Push that kind of sums it up.
Every time I look at you the world just melts away
All my troubles all my fears dissolve in your affections
You've seen me at my weakest but you take me as I am
And when I fall you offer me a softer place to land
[CHORUS:]
You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all together
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me
You're the one true thing I know I can believe
I get mad so easy but you give me room to breathe
No matter what I say or do 'cause you're too good to fight about it
Even when I have to push just to see how far you'll go
You wont stoop down to battle but you never turn to go
[CHORUS]
Your love is just the antidote when nothing else will cure me
There are times I cant decide when I cant tell up from down
You make me feel less crazy when otherwise I'd drown
But you pick me up and brush me off and tell me I'm OK
Sometimes that's just what we need to get us through the day
[CHORUS]
Fuck. It's going to be so hard while he's gone... Is it January yet?
I know this will be hard on him. He is going to miss Alec SO much, and Alec's going to miss his daddy too. I'm going to miss him. He's such a great father. He loves Alec more than I could have thought possible. He's protective, not just of his safety, but of his emotional needs, too.
He takes care of things. I know that sounds simple, but it means so much. He takes out the trash without being asked. He changes the Diaper Genie so that I don't have to think about it. He does the dishes at night while I put Alec to sleep. He kisses us goodbye in the morning when he thinks we're asleep. When he goes to the grocery store he always gets me a little treat. I know that sounds silly, but do you know how important it is to have a man think about your chocolate needs?
It's much more than what he *does* that makes this so hard. He is my emotional safe place. It's hard to really put into words, but Jeff grounds me. He always calmly listens to my newest passions or woes, and laughs (but not in a mean way) at my latest antics. He always asks me how my day was and he really cares. He doesn't ever patronize me. We laugh together, even over the silliest things. When we argue (full disclosure: He doesn't really argue with me. I just bitch a lot and he listens.) we still find a way to laugh. There is a song by Sarah McLachlan called Push that kind of sums it up.
Every time I look at you the world just melts away
All my troubles all my fears dissolve in your affections
You've seen me at my weakest but you take me as I am
And when I fall you offer me a softer place to land
[CHORUS:]
You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all together
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me
You're the one true thing I know I can believe
I get mad so easy but you give me room to breathe
No matter what I say or do 'cause you're too good to fight about it
Even when I have to push just to see how far you'll go
You wont stoop down to battle but you never turn to go
[CHORUS]
Your love is just the antidote when nothing else will cure me
There are times I cant decide when I cant tell up from down
You make me feel less crazy when otherwise I'd drown
But you pick me up and brush me off and tell me I'm OK
Sometimes that's just what we need to get us through the day
[CHORUS]
Fuck. It's going to be so hard while he's gone... Is it January yet?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
I need a distraction!
I feel really overwhelmed right now.
I have so much anger towards our government, and I don't know how to direct that energy. The corporate greed in America has turned our "democracy" into a fascist regime. Monsanto, Dupont, JP Morgan, Goodyear, Bath & Body Works, Gap, Halliburton, on and on and on... They own us lock, stock and barrel. They own the politicians. They make policy change, not us.
It's impossible to not be a consumer, unless you live in a commune, and even then you still need to buy. The thing I've found so difficult is who do I trust with my money? I mean, IKEA and Gap Inc. claim social responsibility, but they've both been guilty of using sweat shops and child labor. I hope that my recent purchase from Pacifica was a wise decision, but I don't really know for sure.
Who can we trust? Our president? Obviously I thought so, otherwise I wouldn't have voted for him, but I've recently come across information and it has most definitely changed my mind.
It seems like the real evil in this world are the Chemical/Petrol companies. They are destroying our earth and paying off the government for a "get out of jail free" card. They are making us fat, infertile and giving us cancer. They are trying to make organic food illegal. They threaten us and our pursuit of life, liberty and happiness.
Have you seen The Matrix? I'm sure you have. I feel like Neo. It's so hard being awake. It's hard to be aware. I'd rather go back to sleep, but I can't. I brought a child into this world, and I have to protect him and his future.
These are some of the things I'm doing, and I strongly encourage others to do as well.
- Buy American. It sounds so simple, but it's easier said then done. If you buy, say, Lucky Jeans, you're buying an American made product, but where was the denim sourced? Who grows the cotton? Is it organic? Is it sustainable? Do the workers that pick it make a living wage? Are there children working in factories to loom the fabric? What dyes are used? Are they harmful?
- Buy from consignment shops or the goodwill. It's basic reduce/reuse/recycle, focusing on the reuse part. If you are using something that someone else considers trash, you aren't making the corporations any more money.
- Reduce plastic consumption. I have entirely eliminated plastic water or soda bottles (actually, I've quit drinking all soda that isn't from a glass bottle, and I only have a max of one a day), and strongly restrict metal cans. Aluminum drinking cans and metal food cans are sprayed with an epoxy resin of BPA. BPA is a known endocrine disruptor.
- Buy organic. You really have to pick and choose. Organic is expensive. I try to buy produce that is on the dirty dozen list, organic dairy and meats (when I can. I can't always afford to, but Alec eats about 90% organic.), non-farmed fish, and non-GMO grains.
- Switch to paraben/phthalate/petrochemical/sulfate/triclosan/propylene glycol/mineral oil free goods. This is a list of some of the most dangerous chemicals in our foods and body products.
- Make your own goods whenever possible. This means cutting back on processed foods (full of bad crap), and cooking from scratch. I also make my own laundry detergent and cleaning supplies from simple ingredients (like salt, baking soda, lemon, vinegar, vodka, and yogurt-- really! Yogurt works great as a fabric softener.)
- Be creative. When I started investigating the crap in my deodorant I got really scared. I've switched to plain baking soda. It really works! I put about a half-teaspoon in the palm of my hand and add just enough water to create a paste. I apply it under my arms and it works like a charm. Baking soda can be caustic if used heavily, so I've found a great recipe to make it a little easier on the skin.***UPDATE*** I found that the simple baking soda was a little caustic to my skin so I switched to the aforementioned recipe. It works like a charm!
- Reduce your carbon footprint. Simple things like switching to fluorescent light bulbs and walking whenever possible. Make less trash. Compost. Here are some more ideas.
- Use water filters, both in your kitchen sink and in your shower. Did you know that chlorine is one of the leading causes of cancer? You absorb more chlorine while showering because the heat actually causes the gas to escape into the air.
Anyway, this list isn't by any means exhaustive, but putting all those links in there certainly was exhausting, heh heh (especially because I had to go through them twice because I put them in wrong the first time!)
I guess I'm so angry because I'm so scared. Now that our health insurance will be active (on Monday!!) I'm going to see a doctor. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know if I should just demand a mammogram or if I should just have the lump biopsied or both. I mean, obviously I should have a biopsy, but should I ask for a mammogram as well? The way the new regulations in health care are, they try to avoid paying for a mammogram until you're 50.
I took a risk assessment quiz to find out what my chances of developing breast cancer are, and apparently I have a "medium" risk of developing it. The quiz didn't address working around chemicals (hello? Pharmacy for 10 years), environmental toxins (my addiction to beauty products) or all the x-rays and CAT scans I had in 2007 (because of my kidney stones and then knee surgery.)
I know I shouldn't be worried until I have a reason to be, but this "wait and see" thing is driving me insane. I have to DO something. That's probably the motivation behind my switch to all things granola, although I know myself well enough to know that this isn't a "phase".
I know this blog has been all over the place, but honestly, my anger and fear have really reduced my mental clarity. I just want this to all be over. I want my family to move to Tacoma, WA and start over fresh. I want my husband and son to be happy and healthy. I want a better world.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Today was a great day
I haven't stressed out over my boobs once, ha ha.
Spent the day in the city. Explored a great new line of natural fragrances. www.PacificaPerfume.com has fantastic scents, and with me being a product junkie, you just know I'm going to insist that all of my products be cute. I know I'm going green and all that, but I don't want to smell like a hippie.
Alec had a blast at Richard's Variety store on Virgina and Monroe. Rode on an old-fashioned horsey ride and Thomas the Train. Picked him up a new ball, Rubber Ducky and a top. He loves his toys.
Right now I'm trying to relax. I'm drinking wine, and dinner is in the oven. I made salmon, rice and salad, and the salmon is divine. I modify Alton Brown's "Broiled salmon with AB's spice pomade". It's to die for.
I quit smoking, and I'm doing great. My last cigarette was Saturday night, and I haven't even craved one. I also gave up soda, at least sodas that come out of aluminum cans or plastic bottles. Gotta watch out for that bpa.
Anyway. Today was a good day. I know I'll be able to get through the week.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Bitchy because I'm itchy
So, I don't know how many of you (how many actually read my blog? ha ha) know this, but I suffer from a condition called Chronic Idiopathic Angioedema. Or in plain English, "deep hives that return and we don't know why".
It started when I was 21 years old, and I had hives so severe that I actually fainted. All the fluid in my body was displaced and it made my blood pressure drop really low. They put me on drugs (that didn't work) and told me that stress was probably the trigger. Well, seeing as my best friend had just passed away, that was kind of a "duh" moment. Thanks guys. When they first started, they lasted for about 3 months straight. My fingers looked like little sausages, and they were swollen so badly that the skin would split open and bleed. Sexy, right?
After about 2-3 years of dealing with them constantly (and I do mean constantly. The least little thing seemed to trigger them, but then again, I was working for a boss that I hated {Tim at GNC} and in a shitty relationship, so stress was always a factor), things settled down a bit. They popped up when I registered for college and when we were under construction at work. They made their presence known when Jeff deployed. They come and go, but about every 1-2 years I get a bad case. Mine usually start out with having itchy wrists. It looks like little pin point pricks under the skin of my forearms down to my fingertips. I try to get it under control at this stage, because if I can, it tends to go away. If not, it progresses to painful swelling of my fingers and toes and hives on my trunk. Sometimes it gets so bad that I can't type or make a fist. They don't just stay in my hands/feet, either. I get hives in my earlobes, my lips- looks like I was punched, and my nose and tongue, they effect extremities and soft tissue the most.
My last "breakout" was in the Spring of 2008, right before Jeff and I were married. I was nervous (who doesn't get some form of cold feet?) and they lasted two long months. I was on steroids but that only helps so much. They go away when I take them but they come right back as soon as they're finished. My hives don't like being told what to do. I swear, I can hear them pouting and bitching like a 15 year old, full of angst adolescent.
Possibly I had hives during my pregnancy. I'm not really sure. In my third trimester I was already retaining water, so I couldn't tell you if it was "hives". I was itchy. My feet hurt. I had issues with protein in my urine. That could have been because of pre-eclampsia, or it could have been my hives (they do that, too- the protein in the urine thing) or my hives could have triggered the pre-e. Who knows? I was nervous then because, well, I was about to become a mother.
So, if my hives are triggered by stress (which seems very likely) what is causing them now? I don't want to alarm anyone, I don't want to alarm myself, but I found a lump in my right breast. I know I have to go to the doctor, but I'm just so scared. I don't usually handle fears and consequences by playing "ostrich", so this is surprising to me. I want to pretend like nothing is wrong whatsoever, and just be ok. This probably explains why if I found the lump several months ago, I'm only just now getting around to telling people and looking for comfort. I only told Jeff a couple of days ago.
Hopefully it's nothing. Hopefully it's just a fibroid. I'm sure it's just a fibroid. I'm not sick. I can't imagine . . . that's not true. I always imagine the worse case scenario. I don't know if I'm just a morbid freak, but I always see the potential disaster in everything. I try like crazy to be positive, but it's really hard.
I feel better typing this out. My chest is already feeling less tight. I'm still really itchy, but maybe today will be ok.
Just keep swimming.
-Dory
It started when I was 21 years old, and I had hives so severe that I actually fainted. All the fluid in my body was displaced and it made my blood pressure drop really low. They put me on drugs (that didn't work) and told me that stress was probably the trigger. Well, seeing as my best friend had just passed away, that was kind of a "duh" moment. Thanks guys. When they first started, they lasted for about 3 months straight. My fingers looked like little sausages, and they were swollen so badly that the skin would split open and bleed. Sexy, right?
After about 2-3 years of dealing with them constantly (and I do mean constantly. The least little thing seemed to trigger them, but then again, I was working for a boss that I hated {Tim at GNC} and in a shitty relationship, so stress was always a factor), things settled down a bit. They popped up when I registered for college and when we were under construction at work. They made their presence known when Jeff deployed. They come and go, but about every 1-2 years I get a bad case. Mine usually start out with having itchy wrists. It looks like little pin point pricks under the skin of my forearms down to my fingertips. I try to get it under control at this stage, because if I can, it tends to go away. If not, it progresses to painful swelling of my fingers and toes and hives on my trunk. Sometimes it gets so bad that I can't type or make a fist. They don't just stay in my hands/feet, either. I get hives in my earlobes, my lips- looks like I was punched, and my nose and tongue, they effect extremities and soft tissue the most.
My last "breakout" was in the Spring of 2008, right before Jeff and I were married. I was nervous (who doesn't get some form of cold feet?) and they lasted two long months. I was on steroids but that only helps so much. They go away when I take them but they come right back as soon as they're finished. My hives don't like being told what to do. I swear, I can hear them pouting and bitching like a 15 year old, full of angst adolescent.
Possibly I had hives during my pregnancy. I'm not really sure. In my third trimester I was already retaining water, so I couldn't tell you if it was "hives". I was itchy. My feet hurt. I had issues with protein in my urine. That could have been because of pre-eclampsia, or it could have been my hives (they do that, too- the protein in the urine thing) or my hives could have triggered the pre-e. Who knows? I was nervous then because, well, I was about to become a mother.
So, if my hives are triggered by stress (which seems very likely) what is causing them now? I don't want to alarm anyone, I don't want to alarm myself, but I found a lump in my right breast. I know I have to go to the doctor, but I'm just so scared. I don't usually handle fears and consequences by playing "ostrich", so this is surprising to me. I want to pretend like nothing is wrong whatsoever, and just be ok. This probably explains why if I found the lump several months ago, I'm only just now getting around to telling people and looking for comfort. I only told Jeff a couple of days ago.
Hopefully it's nothing. Hopefully it's just a fibroid. I'm sure it's just a fibroid. I'm not sick. I can't imagine . . . that's not true. I always imagine the worse case scenario. I don't know if I'm just a morbid freak, but I always see the potential disaster in everything. I try like crazy to be positive, but it's really hard.
I feel better typing this out. My chest is already feeling less tight. I'm still really itchy, but maybe today will be ok.
Just keep swimming.
-Dory
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Brrrrrrr and Random Thoughts
I don't like the cold. I guess it's a good thing I live in the South.
Winter always leaves me slightly depressed. I prefer Autumn and Spring. Never been a fan of Winter or Summer. Even though I'm extreme in certain aspects of my life, climate is one thing that I prefer the middle ground.
I'm ready for Spring-cleaning. Ready to purge and start fresh. I'm ready for new beginnings. Ready to compartmentalise my life.
Alec is such a delight. I love being his mother. Today he tried hard-boiled egg for the first time, and promptly threw it up. Ha ha. I tricked him by adding it to his sweet potatoes, and all was good. We spent about an hour playing drums this morning. (Really, it was just an old pot and a wooden spoon, but hey! what does he know?)
It's really hard to put into words how becoming a mother has changed me. Hopefully, it's made me a kinder, gentler, more patient woman. Those aren't exactly traits I'm well known for. Alec has enabled me to be more positive, he has given me hope for all of humanity. I know that as his mother, I am doing the most important job on this planet.
Winter always leaves me slightly depressed. I prefer Autumn and Spring. Never been a fan of Winter or Summer. Even though I'm extreme in certain aspects of my life, climate is one thing that I prefer the middle ground.
I'm ready for Spring-cleaning. Ready to purge and start fresh. I'm ready for new beginnings. Ready to compartmentalise my life.
Alec is such a delight. I love being his mother. Today he tried hard-boiled egg for the first time, and promptly threw it up. Ha ha. I tricked him by adding it to his sweet potatoes, and all was good. We spent about an hour playing drums this morning. (Really, it was just an old pot and a wooden spoon, but hey! what does he know?)
It's really hard to put into words how becoming a mother has changed me. Hopefully, it's made me a kinder, gentler, more patient woman. Those aren't exactly traits I'm well known for. Alec has enabled me to be more positive, he has given me hope for all of humanity. I know that as his mother, I am doing the most important job on this planet.
Please take pity on this picture, it was taken when Alec was about a week old. Mama looks pretty rough. ;)
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Danielle
I miss somebody. Some days are harder than others.
Today is one of those days.
Danielle has been gone for almost 11 years, but we were friends for 10. Little things trigger a memory. Seeing a trophy will remind me of the time we were blitzed, play fighting, and rolled into some guy's (KJ, I think) book shelf, causing his assorted awards to bop us on the head. It really hurt, but we continued to laugh as the whole case fell upon us.
Nothing makes me remember her more than being in my parent's home. I remember how we used to walk around the lake, sometimes twice in a row. Man, that's like, 7 miles! We used to sing at the top of our lungs, laughing, gossiping... we never ran out of things to say.
I remember the time we jumped into the dam. It was after a particularly heavy rain, and the water was rushing. We would creep out a little, sit down, and let the current scoot us away. I, in my bravery (read stupidity), went out a little too far. The current was so fast I was pushed quickly towards a bunch of jagged, threatening rocks. I was scared, and turned to my belly to try to claw at the ground to save myself. Danielle had to rescue me, but my knees and hands were still a bloody mess.
When she moved in with us, we always had so much to discuss. We would wake up together, catch the bus, skip classes together, go home, get dressed, go out with boys, and always talk ourselves to sleep. We used to streak. We would strip, climb out my bedroom window, creep off the porch (so as not to awaken George, the family Sheepdog), run down the driveway to the street. We always imagined headlights, and would hightail it back; laughing, feeling exhilerated.
One morning after returning home (we had sneaked out) we decided that it would be a great idea to lay out on the roof. We grabbed our towels, climbed the ladder, and soaked up the rays. I don't know if it was her or me (probably me) that got paranoid about getting back down. One of us went to check on the ladder, decided it was too steep, and whadyaknow... we dropped it. We had to jump up and down over my brothers' room to wake them up. They had to have our neighbor come rescue us.
The man that took her away from us tries to appeal his case. Part of me wants to go to his parole hearings or appeals just to look him in the eye. I want him to know how much he hurt us all when he took her away. There is another part of me that just doesn't like to think about it. Just push it away to the far corners of my mind.
I don't know how a person can take a human life. I don't know why a stranger would strangle somebody. I don't think a loss like this is something you ever get over. I know I can't.
I knew Danielle for a third of my life. When she passed, I had known her for half. I miss her every day, as I'm sure her family and other friends do. I know that she lives on. She had such a BIG personality, that nobody could or would ever forget her.
LYLAS
Today is one of those days.
Danielle has been gone for almost 11 years, but we were friends for 10. Little things trigger a memory. Seeing a trophy will remind me of the time we were blitzed, play fighting, and rolled into some guy's (KJ, I think) book shelf, causing his assorted awards to bop us on the head. It really hurt, but we continued to laugh as the whole case fell upon us.
Nothing makes me remember her more than being in my parent's home. I remember how we used to walk around the lake, sometimes twice in a row. Man, that's like, 7 miles! We used to sing at the top of our lungs, laughing, gossiping... we never ran out of things to say.
I remember the time we jumped into the dam. It was after a particularly heavy rain, and the water was rushing. We would creep out a little, sit down, and let the current scoot us away. I, in my bravery (read stupidity), went out a little too far. The current was so fast I was pushed quickly towards a bunch of jagged, threatening rocks. I was scared, and turned to my belly to try to claw at the ground to save myself. Danielle had to rescue me, but my knees and hands were still a bloody mess.
When she moved in with us, we always had so much to discuss. We would wake up together, catch the bus, skip classes together, go home, get dressed, go out with boys, and always talk ourselves to sleep. We used to streak. We would strip, climb out my bedroom window, creep off the porch (so as not to awaken George, the family Sheepdog), run down the driveway to the street. We always imagined headlights, and would hightail it back; laughing, feeling exhilerated.
One morning after returning home (we had sneaked out) we decided that it would be a great idea to lay out on the roof. We grabbed our towels, climbed the ladder, and soaked up the rays. I don't know if it was her or me (probably me) that got paranoid about getting back down. One of us went to check on the ladder, decided it was too steep, and whadyaknow... we dropped it. We had to jump up and down over my brothers' room to wake them up. They had to have our neighbor come rescue us.
The man that took her away from us tries to appeal his case. Part of me wants to go to his parole hearings or appeals just to look him in the eye. I want him to know how much he hurt us all when he took her away. There is another part of me that just doesn't like to think about it. Just push it away to the far corners of my mind.
I don't know how a person can take a human life. I don't know why a stranger would strangle somebody. I don't think a loss like this is something you ever get over. I know I can't.
I knew Danielle for a third of my life. When she passed, I had known her for half. I miss her every day, as I'm sure her family and other friends do. I know that she lives on. She had such a BIG personality, that nobody could or would ever forget her.
LYLAS
Monday, January 4, 2010
I resolve
Every day I take steps toward being the kind of woman I'd like to become. I don't always succeed, sometimes I stumble, sometimes I lose my balance, but I try.
I don't like hypocrisy. I don't understand how others can be so judgemental when they too, fall short. People in glass houses and all that jazz. I try really hard to not be hypocritical, but I'm human.
I can't comprehend homophobia, misogyny, racism, elitism and hate. I can't stand the talking heads that preach it yet quote God in the same sentence. I don't claim to be religious, but I'm oh, so spiritual.
I believe our planet is on loan to us. We can never purchase, only rent. It is our duty to leave it the way it was or better. Nobody can do everything, but everybody can't do nothing.
I try to find Grace. It isn't easy. I have to fight my inner cynic and she's sarcastic, that one. My son has brought me closer. I don't want to fail him. I want to be the kind of mother he deserves. I want to be the kind of citizen our planet deserves. I want to find peace, even if I have to make it up as I go along.
I give myself permission to fail, but not to be a failure.
I don't like hypocrisy. I don't understand how others can be so judgemental when they too, fall short. People in glass houses and all that jazz. I try really hard to not be hypocritical, but I'm human.
I can't comprehend homophobia, misogyny, racism, elitism and hate. I can't stand the talking heads that preach it yet quote God in the same sentence. I don't claim to be religious, but I'm oh, so spiritual.
I believe our planet is on loan to us. We can never purchase, only rent. It is our duty to leave it the way it was or better. Nobody can do everything, but everybody can't do nothing.
I try to find Grace. It isn't easy. I have to fight my inner cynic and she's sarcastic, that one. My son has brought me closer. I don't want to fail him. I want to be the kind of mother he deserves. I want to be the kind of citizen our planet deserves. I want to find peace, even if I have to make it up as I go along.
I give myself permission to fail, but not to be a failure.
A little about me
I'm not new to writing, in fact, I've kept a journal since I was 10, but this is my first 'real' blog. I figured I'd introduce myself.
My name is Anna. I am married to my best friend of 16 years, Jeff. He rubbed my feet every single day that I was pregnant. He makes me laugh when I am ready to kill him. More importantly, he is an amazing father. He loves me not in spite of all my many flaws, but perhaps because of them. I could go on for days and days about how wonderful he is.
We have a son together, Alec Kensington. Alec will be 7 months old the day after tomorrow (January 6). He is the sweetest, smartest, cutest little boy I've ever had the privilege of birthing. He is perfection in a onesie. He is just about my entire world.
A little about me?
I like making lists.
My favorite color is pink.
If something is pretty or has a picture of a cocktail, I WANT!
I'm more of a cat person, but I still love dogs.
I like to stop and smell the roses.
I think recycling is a BIG DEAL.
Jelly beans and gummy bears rock!
I'd like to be organized enough so that my undergarments always match (ha ha, never going to happen)
I have a three tattoos.
I always close my eyes when I dance.
I cry often. I've cried every time I've watched Beauty and the Beast. Dance moves me to tears.
I'm a Libertarian. I'm spiritual, but not religious.
My friends would say I'm fun, funny, compassionate, intelligent, open-minded, and a loud mouth.
I've started this blog because I've always journaled. I think I started my first when I was 10-12, but it may have been earlier. I like to share. I don't think there is any particular direction this will go. In other words, I'm not creating a "family" blog, or a "specialty" blog. This is just for my random thoughts.
I hope you enjoy!
My name is Anna. I am married to my best friend of 16 years, Jeff. He rubbed my feet every single day that I was pregnant. He makes me laugh when I am ready to kill him. More importantly, he is an amazing father. He loves me not in spite of all my many flaws, but perhaps because of them. I could go on for days and days about how wonderful he is.
We have a son together, Alec Kensington. Alec will be 7 months old the day after tomorrow (January 6). He is the sweetest, smartest, cutest little boy I've ever had the privilege of birthing. He is perfection in a onesie. He is just about my entire world.
A little about me?
I like making lists.
My favorite color is pink.
If something is pretty or has a picture of a cocktail, I WANT!
I'm more of a cat person, but I still love dogs.
I like to stop and smell the roses.
I think recycling is a BIG DEAL.
Jelly beans and gummy bears rock!
I'd like to be organized enough so that my undergarments always match (ha ha, never going to happen)
I have a three tattoos.
I always close my eyes when I dance.
I cry often. I've cried every time I've watched Beauty and the Beast. Dance moves me to tears.
I'm a Libertarian. I'm spiritual, but not religious.
My friends would say I'm fun, funny, compassionate, intelligent, open-minded, and a loud mouth.
I've started this blog because I've always journaled. I think I started my first when I was 10-12, but it may have been earlier. I like to share. I don't think there is any particular direction this will go. In other words, I'm not creating a "family" blog, or a "specialty" blog. This is just for my random thoughts.
I hope you enjoy!
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