Sending you elsewhere to see something I like...

I hope you will take a second and stop over and check out BHJ's post today at Wind in Your Vagina...If you have never visited him, let me just say that BHJ is a great writer, with an amazing way of visualizing his world and painting it with beautiful words and metaphors, and I am at times insanely jealous of his talents and his ability to so perfectly describe his outlook on the world, which often echos mine, but is expressed more beautifully than I could ever hope to express it.

His post today is wonderful and perfect and powerful.

Angry

I wrote a post and emailed it yesterday to Maggie for her Violenced Unsilenced website. I had been debating doing this for awhile, after Maggie encouraged me that my story may help someone. I am not sure when it will be up, but I will let you know.

It turned out to be much harder than I had originally expected it to be. Not the writing, but the feelings that it exposed. As the memories unfolded on the screen, it struck me that those things happened to ME. For so long I have thought that I had addressed the issues and moved on...that I had come to terms with it all. But I realized that for so long, when I thought about those things that happened, it was like watching a movie; those children were not me and my brother, they were just actors...Those adults were not my parents, they were just.actors. It turns out, I hadn't addressed or come to terms with much of anything...My brain had just conveniently removed ME from the equation. They were Other People. Not Me.

I think part of that comes because my mother likes to say "You only focus on the bad. Your life wasn't that bad; there are so many who had it worse."

Yeah. There were and are LOTS and LOTS of people who 'had it worse'. I need only read the stories here to know that, but does that mean that I am not entitled to the pain that I *did* suffer? Discounting the situation as 'not that bad' is an excuse. It is her way of justifying all that happened, and making herself feel okay with exposing us to it all. I know this. But that doesn't help heal that little girl who still witnessed horrible things, even if they weren't the MOST horrible things.

It could also be the fact that I was stoned for a decade. From the time I was 14 until I was in my early twenties, I was stoned. I always told myself I just liked to smoke pot, and that it was all good, but I can see now that I was definitely self medicating, avoiding, hiding.

Writing it all out has left me feeling like an open wound...my emotions are oozing out of me...slowly. And they feel hot, and angry, and they burn as they come. Different emotions keep coming...the more I think about it the more different emotions boil up to the surface. I feel angry, and disgusted, and sad, and confused.

There is just so much coming out lately...Starting with all of the issues that have been coming forth with my dad's spiraling alcoholism and his relationship with L and this coming baby, and now with everything that is coming up from writing for Violenced Unsilenced...it's all working its way slowly to a head it feels.

It's good. I know it is. Things I have wanted to say to my parents for a long time are starting to burst forth from my mouth as they run through my head. Almost by the will of someone else, they come forth, where before they would have just continued to run through my head, WANTING so desperately to be said out loud. That little forgotten girl inside of me is finding her voice. And she is TIRED of the silence, and the waiting, and the holding it all in, it seems. And she is ANGRY.

Like the other day, my mom stopped by and was talking to L about the summer and how much fun they were going to have...she asked if L had a fishing pole, and I said 'No' and she told L that she was going to buy him one so that her and Papa could take him out fishing in the boat.

I was standing at the counter making supper and as the same old thought ran through my head it simultaneously came out of my mouth -

"As long as Papa realizes he isn't going to be drinking before OR during the fishing trip"

It felt SO. GOOD. to say that out loud. I wish he would have been in the room, but it's okay. It still felt good.

My mom looked at me with a hurt look on her face, and proceeded to inform me that she had already had that talk with my dad - that he 'Better realize that E isn't going to put up with you drinking if you want to take her son fishing'...and then she asked me if I really thought she would allow that.

I told her that No, I don't think SHE would do anything to put my child(ren) in danger, that I do in fact trust her to obey my wishes when it comes to my child(ren), but that my Dad needs to realize that there is no leeway on the boundaries I set; that he is going to be forced to make a choice. It may break my heart if he cannot make the right choice, but on this I will not bend. He is going to make a choice - his grandson or his alcohol. It doesn't mean 'just a few beers' before hand, it means you don't drink until AFTER you have my son safe and sound back with me. That my brother and I may have survived him, but I will be DAMNED if I am going to put my children out there and chance them surviving him.

I so so wish he had been there, but it's a step. I felt lighter, and relieved. I know I need to say it to his face, and I really really feel as though the day is coming when it is all going to come out of me, and onto him.

But good as it feels, it hurts me, too. Because it hurts her. It's hurts her probably on so many levels that I cannot even comprehend. And that hurts me, deeply. But I cannot continue to be silent. I cannot. It's not just me, it's MY CHILDREN on the line now. Being a mother changes everything SO MUCH.

She stopped again a few days later, and as she was leaving she said to me

"L is so so sweet, E - enjoy that now, because it all changes...they grow up and leave you. I should know, I have completely lost my son"

Meaning she has lost her son because he married a woman who took him away from her and turned him on her...

"Yeah, but part of that is not your fault -"

"I know, he and I always had a very close relationship"

"-no, I mean part of that is because of Dad."

"Yeah, but what can I do about that? I can't do anything about his problems...and I may be an enabler, but what can I do? My mom lived with the same thing."

BINGO. There it is, the continuation of the cycle. 'What could *I* have done? My mom lived through the same thing...*She* couldn't do anything, what could *I* do either???'

"Well, it's too late now."

"What could I have EVER done?"

It saddens me to no end to see that she doesn't get it. That she came through her experiences with her OWN childhood as the person who perpetuates the cycle. It's all excuses. As my friend Kori said, it's all excuses. Excuses for inaction. Excuses to quell their own feelings of guilt.

It angers me. I am ANGRY at her. As much as she was a victim herself, I still hold her partially accountable and at fault, for letting it happen. And that then CONFUSES me...how can I be SO ANGRY at another victim? But then again, I guess I could look at HIM as a victim, too? Couldn't I? A victim of the disease of alcoholism? A victim to his uncontrollable anger??

I am also guilty of being an enabler myself. By not telling my father EXACTLY what I feel, by not telling him that how he drinks is NOT okay, and that he NEEDS help; by continuing to sweep it under the rug, I myself have become an enabler. By not drawing a line in the sand and saying I love you, but I will not continue to sit by while you drink yourself to death, I will not allow you to have a relationship with my children in the state that you are in, I am allowing him to continue on.

There is so much going on in my head. And I know the pregnancy and the hormones add fuel to the fire. But this NEEDS to happen. But that doesn't make it easy. And it all threatens the relationship with my parents - this delicate balance I have struck between my true emotions and what I want to be...but that relationship is built on sweeping the dirty, hard, disgusting facts under the rug, just as we have always done. I don't want to do that forever. I CAN'T do that forever. It's like balancing a ton of feathers and a ton of bricks...somehow, that ton of bricks is just so much heavier...

Fooling myself...

I had this naive notion that I could protect my children from my parents' alcoholism. That due to the fact that *I* was determined to show them with my own actions and life choices that drinking like my parents do is not normal or healthy or the way that all, or even a majority of people, live their lives, that they would be safe from the hurt and pain inflicted upon me by my parents alcoholism. That my parents could be a part of my children's lives and somehow I would use their sickness as a way for my children to learn from a distance...my children would not have to live through what I did in order to learn the lessons; I could teach them by viewing it from afar.

I had this plan that I would simply tell my children that Nana and Papa (him, especially) have a disease, a sickness they couldn't control, and that drinking like that was not a healthy or happy way to live. And that somehow, some way, those words would make them understand and would protect them.

HA...yeah...good plan.

Last night I was telling L that I was going to call Papa B and Gramma C (W's father and his wife) and see if he could stay with them on Saturday night while mama worked. He immediately started whining that he didn't want to go there, he wants to "Go Nana's house...and Papa be der too!" (my parents).

In that instant, at TWO years old, L blew my plan wide open and exposed it for the weak little wanna be protection from the storm that it was trying to be.

"No, you can't go to Nana and Papa's, we're going to see if you can go to Papa B's and Gramma C's house"

"Noooo - wanna see Nana an Papa, and Jack be der too!"

How could I have thought there would be no pain in it for him? How could I have thought that saying the words "No you can't_____with Papa because Papa is sick" would magically make him understand my reasoning and squelch his desires to spend time fishing or hunting or hanging out with his Papa that he loves?

Last night, I was able to brush it under the rug and just move on. I just stopped the conversation, and when Saturday comes and we drop L off at his other Papa and Gramma's house, he will be happy and he will forget that he wanted to be at Nana and Papa's instead. But what happens when he is 4 or 5 or 8 and he won't take no for an answer? When he wants to know why he can NEVER do x,y or z with Papa K? When he wants to know why he always stays at Papa B and Gramma C's, but never with Nana and Papa? What then? Could I seriously have thought that saying those weak little words "Papa is sick" would somehow leave him understanding what my 30+ years of life, and being bombarded by and living through all the ugly faces of alcoholism has taught me? How will there not be pain for him when he wonders why Papa can't just love him enough to NOT drink? Did I think he would not wonder that same thing that I myself have wondered a million times over?

I truly believe that I am here in this life and that I chose these parents because *I* will be the one who breaks the chain, the one who chooses the other path. But how could I have thought that there would be no pain for my children? There is no escaping the pain when you are on the path of leaving your family's legacy of alcoholism behind...and regardless of the shortsightedness of my previous thinking that the pain would end with me; that *I* was the end of that legacy, it is obvious that my children are REALLY going to have to be the end. Hopefully my choices, which were shaped through my own pain, along with my children's choices learned through their own different, but equal pain, can allow my grandchildren to be the ones who won't have to learn the lessons through pain. They hopefully can learn to live healthy, productive lives simply because that is the ONLY thing that they know and see in their immediate family.

And although that thought brings me hope and joy, it does not ease the sorrow I feel for my own children. It does not answer the question of 'what's my plan NOW?' How am I going to help ease their pain? I'm tired. Tired of the alcoholism. Tired of thinking about it and seeing it and figuring out how to live through it. Tired of feeling guilty and disappointed and embarrassed and sad and mad because of it. I would so much like to brush it under the rug, but I keep tripping on the bump it creates. I cannot even look at my father these days, which makes me feel so sad and guilty and angry. I see in his eyes that he knows; he knows that I can hardly stand to look at him, and he knows why, and it hurts him SO BAD...I can see all that in his eyes, and it makes me SO FUCKING angry at him for knowing it and allowing me to feel so guilty because I cannot muster the strength to say it all out loud.

I only wanted to spare my children this pain...this unfair, unrelenting pain caused by the actions of our loved ones which we have no control over. This realization of my flawed plan has dampened my heart...

A true struggle and REAL worry...

My friend Kori over at See Kori Rant reminded me today that although we may be struggling in some ways, we have SO SO MUCH to be thankful for, and that things could be SO much worse in such bigger ways. There are much much more trying things that can happen in life, and I should be thankful for so much. Which I am.

She has some friends who are going through probably the most difficult thing I can imagine in life; watching your baby (or child) go through a major illness. I can't say much about it right now, it has really dampened my heart. I cannot bear to imagine seeing my L or this growing life inside of me in that position, and I pray that I never have to experience it.

I am not usually one to ask people to give to people they don't know, and I know we are all struggling, but on the odd chance that this story touches one of you and inspires you to help in whatever way you can, I ask that you stop over here and just take a look.

All I see is Love...

I just stopped to see Erika over at Be Gay About It and check out her post today and I hope you will jump over there and check out the link she posted.

When I watch that video, all I see is Love. So much beautiful, pure Love. And it made me cry, and yes, it breaks my heart too. I just don't understand, and never will, how someone, ANYONE feels that they have the right, or responsibility or mission or whatever to come between the bright shining Love I see when I watch that video...

Thanks for that Erika. Your day will come. Love WILL prevail.

Snippets of life stuff...

It is getting noticeably lighter on my drive to work in the mornings...A reminder that this bitter cold, dark, restricting winter cannot last forever. Warm, green, light times full of birth and growth and fresh garden goodies and evening walks to the duck pond with L and picnics and Farmers' Markets and parades and BBQ's and bare toes in soft grass and lazy days in the sun WILL return.

*SIGH*

I must just be patient for a bit longer. It is on the horizon.

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Maybe it was the noticeably lighter drive, or the fact that the final tendrils of the flu have finally left our house, but I felt absolutely WONDERFUL on the way to work this morning...Better than I have felt in so long. I felt that 'pregnancy glow' you hear about.

I have decided that I am definitely NOT a person who loves being pregnant. I LOVE the outcome of it, and I do love PARTS of it; feeling the baby move inside of me, knowing that I am literally growing a life inside of me, the wonderful primal sense of empowerment that comes with labor and childbirth (think I am woman, hear me ROAR!), but for the most part, I could REALLY REALLY just skip this part and go right to the wonderful prize at the end. I am definitely feeling SUPER inpatient this time, and decidedly more selfish about giving my body over to this baby for 10 months + however long she/he decides to nurse, and definitely NOT reveling in the attention which is piled upon pregnant women from everyone from family to complete strangers. All of these feelings make me feel incredibly guilty. I *KNOW* the pain of wanting it SO BAD and feeling like it will never happen. I *KNOW* the pain of finally succeeding only to have the rug pulled out from underneath you just as soon as you settle into feeling comfortable and happy in your success. I *KNOW* how I would have liked to seriously murder a pregnant woman who would say these things when I was on the other side trying so desperately to get in. So I hate that I feel impatient and selfish.

This morning, though, in my moment of basking in the 'pregnancy glow' I did not feel any of these things...I was thinking about how wonderful it was going to be to feel this baby start to move around inside of me...to get to know her/his sleep and waking patterns and to see how this baby behaves differently or the same as L did in the womb. I felt really good about being right where I am at in this pregnancy, and so I only hope that as I continue to feel better in this second trimester I can continue to just sit back and enjoy this time and really relish it as probably the last time that I will ever experience growing a human being inside of me.

I just need to keep my eye on the prize...

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I have been listening to Dave Ramsey on the radio for awhile now and his guidelines and financial ideals really make sense. I have been wanting to get his book(s), and have REALLY been needing to get a handle on our money situation. We really need to actively start controlling our money, rather than wondering where the heck it goes. We should absolutely be able to have a safety net in savings much larger than what we have (we have one mortgage payment, which I realize is more than most people have, but it is really not enough.) I should not have to dread balancing the check book and paying the bills, at least not as much as I do now.

It is partly my fault...I have really been slacking on buying food for lunches for W and letting him eat fast food for lunch every day. Partly my fault for not putting my foot down and saying enough is enough, and MAKING him be accountable for the money he spends...partly my fault for marrying someone SO OPPOSITE me in our financial ideals and who has never really had to be responsible or pay attention to where to money goes (neither before his relationship with me nor since the start of it) and for never MAKING him have to take part in the responsibility of figuring out how to pay all the bills on time...We both know and have always known that were something to break up our relationship, it would be financial dischord...

So last night I sat down and did a budget. And I MADE him be a part of it. I MADE him go through it with me and SEE where the numbers come from and where the numbers go...I have done this before, and have always gotten to a point where I was tired of fighting with him on it, and we have fallen back into our same old ways. But this time, it HAS to be followed through. Things are going to be tighter than they ever have once this new baby arrives...Things beyond our control are more uncertain than ever, and we are LITERALLY one set back or disaster away from becoming a statistic. Although we may be 'okay' now, and not struggle as much as so many other people I know, we are by no means financially secure, and it is time for us to buckle down and face reality just like so many others need to do right now.

So we came to some agreements. And although I know it will still be more in my court to ensure that we both follow through, I AM making him become partly responsible for managing his money...He will no longer have his check card (something we BOTH know he is just not capable of using responsibly, as he has no connection to what's ACTUALLY left in the account) but will be getting a set amount of money each week IN CASH, and he will have to make it last and once it's gone, it's gone. I have been kind enough (as an ex-smoker) to keep his cigarettes in the budget as a necessity and they will be covered, but energy drinks and beer and whatever else he spends his freaking money on come out of his small cash allowance and once it's gone, too bad.

Sometimes I REALLY REALLY hate the fact that I have to treat him like a child in this aspect, rather than a partner...I hate that he isn't more on the same page financially as me, I hate that he is so laid back about it all and so "Oh, it will work itself out" about it (because IT doesn't just work itself out, it NEVER has, *I* work it all out) and that really, he is so immature about it. But this is who he is...he is very laid back about most everything in life, which is part of what attracts me to him...he balances my unrelenting uptightedness (is that a word??) and helps me let loose and laugh...and I knew this when I married him, and I married him despite of and because of this, all at the same time. But sometimes it is SO frustrating and tiring and makes me wonder...SIGH.

But I am hopeful and determined that this time it will stick and that he WILL learn to be at least a LITTLE bit responsible and a little bit more of a partner in this with me...And I bought a used copy of one of Dave Ramsey's books to help keep me on track and help keep me motivated.

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Oh, oh I forgot...I saw the most annoying commercial last night...annoying on so many levels.

It was for a tax debt relief company, you know 'Do you owe the IRS money? Well we can help!' and there were all these people saying 'We owed the IRS $17,000, but we only PAID $2,000!' 'We owed the IRS $200,000 but we only PAID $8,000!' and the best of all 'We owed the IRS $3 Million but we PAID less than $1 million!!"

Every admission was followed by this happy, coniving smile.

SERIOUSLY? If you owe the IRS $2K or $17K or ESPECIALLY $3 MILLION, you are obviously making some money and you have OBVIOUSLY been doing something ILLEGAL by AVOIDING PAYING YOUR FUCKING TAXES in the FIRST place, and you are PROUD that you got away with ILLEGALLY AVOIDING TAXES and THEN strapping the REST of us who PAY our taxes with your burden as you snake your way out of paying taxes that you should have paid in the first place????

Am I the only one who sees something morally wrong with this? I mean, c'mon, we all look for every break we can get when it comes to taxes, but I definitely don't AVOID my taxes and I pay my share and I definitely find it morally not acceptable to illegally avoid taxes and then brag about how I hired a fucking lawyer to beg, borrow and steal my way out of paying taxes that I evaded in the first place.

UGH, pissed me off.

My poor W and how the hell do you make THAT decision??

W has been working on replacing the trim in hour house lately, and his current focus is our little entry hall...I told him the other day to just let me put a fresh coat of paint in there before he does it, as it definitely needs a coat.

He was off work yesterday due to the insane cold, and decided to surprise me by applying the coat of paint himself and putting the new trim up...

Well, I was surprised, alright, to find that he had painted the walls GREEN in lieu of the cream color that was in there prior.

I walk through the door to find him kneeling down working in there...

"OH, you painted it green." OMG, why in the hell did he paint it green??! That is HORRID, there is no way I can live with it being GREEN!! How can he think that looks good?!?

"No, what do ya mean?"

"It's GREEN, honey"

"No it's not, it's the same color as it was before; I compared it to the walls to make sure, I even checked the color composition listed on top and it doesn't say anything about GREEN"

My poor color blind W tried his best, but alas, his eyes could not tell the difference between the cream on the walls and the light shade of green that he was painting over it with! He was so bummed. I was so bummed for him.

It continued to baffle him throughout the evening how that could possibly be a different color. I continued to praise him for his efforts, although I don't think it helped.

I can't imagine living like that and not being able to see those differences in color...

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I watched a show last night and the plot was about a single father and his ± 7 year old daughter and 2 year old son. The mom had died (sometime after the boy was born, obviously) and all three of them (father, daughter, son) had cystic fibrosis...They went into the doctor because the father was coughing a lot...Turns out, the daughter had contracted a highly contagious, deadly (to them because of the CF), incurable bacterial infection that was going to, eventually, kill her. The father, of course, wanted to be with her to console her, etc, but they told him that neither him nor his son could make any contact with her or they WOULD catch the infection and they too would die.

So she is admitted to the hospital, and the closest the father can get is to see her from the corridor through the window and talk to her on the phone. They try some long shot treatment, but find out that it is not going to work. They tell the father this, and he insists that he needs to be with her to tell her, and the continue to tell him no, that then he will die, etc...he is so torn between going to his daughter and being with her while she dies, or leaving her to die alone so that he can live to raise his son.

OMG, how the fuck do you make that decision?

Needless to say, I was BAWLING my eyes out for the entire second half of the show...

In the end, the father hands his son over to the doctors, gives them some instructions on who to contact (he has NO close family) to take his son, and he goes into his daughter's room...

I am going to start crying again...

I don't know how a person is supposed to make it through something like that.

It reminded me of all the things that can go wrong in life and that we never know what tomorrow brings...

It totally made me think about this post by Maggie over at OkayFineDammit, and made me sad for all of the people that are suffering and that endure so much while simultaneously others are celebrating joys...

It made me want to beg and plead with the Universe, or Goddess, or God or my Karma or whatever is out there that I NEVER NEVER have to go through something like that...That I somehow live a life that never knows that type of struggle, because I don't know how it is possible to endure that type of pain, and I never ever ever want to find out...

It made me feel bad, somehow, for living the blessed life I have so far lived while others suffer so much...It made me question, again, why things happen the way they do...

It made me feel so grateful for said blessed life...

It made me so so sad.

Congratulations are in order...

One more thing I have to say today...

Since I have been stuck on the re-curring theme of alcoholism in my life, I have come across it again today.

But today, it is in a good way.

I have had the wonderful luck of 'meeting' this amazing woman in the big blogger world, who celebrated 9 years sober as of yesterday. What an awesome achievement.

So, CONGRATULATIONS, Kori. I really do think you are an amazing woman, and it lifts my spirits to see you reach another year sober. I can only imagine that it is not always easy. I wish you a lifetime of sobriety milestones.

I also wish your entire family peace in your current struggle.

(((hugs)))

To break the cycle

I hate alcoholism.

I can't say that I hate alcohol really, although I don't drink myself (save for an EXTREMELY rare Mike's Hard or a bit of wine), I do know that there are people who can have a few drinks and relax and go on with life.

Unfortunately, I have been surrounded in this life by those that CAN'T have just a few drinks and relax and go on with life. Maybe they started out that way, but they found something that easily filled voids that they desperately needed to fill. Something that, due to misfires in their brain or whacked out receptors or some chemical imbalance, they cannot enjoy in moderation, but continually and habitually take to the extreme.

My maternal grandmother's father was an acoholic.

My grandmother went on to marry an acoholic, my mom's dad. He was a MEAN MEAN alcoholic who kept his bottle next to his bed so he could take shots when he woke up at night. Who took a flask with him in the car to work and drank all day, every day. A man whose alcoholism brought out his demons which he unleashed on his family verbally and emotionally (and probably physically too).

My mom went on to marry a similar alcoholic. My dad has mellowed in his older age and his progressed disease, but he unleashed his fair share of demons on us throughout our lives. He never physically abused us (my brother and I), but I have at least a handful of vivid memories of him attacking my mom. I remember lots of nights spent on the stairs, sitting just at the edge of where the wall opened up, listening to them scream at each other, waiting to hear it turn physical, at which time I would run down and yell at him to leave her alone. I remember wetting the bed till I was like 10, and all the trips to the doctors and no one being able to say why it was happening. Simple answer; I was so tired by the time I returned to bed after my nightly vigil that I just couldn't get out of bed when I had to go...(I remember waking and thinking I need to go to the bathroom and picturing myself walking to the bathroom and going; I guess I just never made it out of bed.) I remember as we got a little older (and braver) screaming downstairs "SHUT THE FUCK UP, WE GOTTA GET UP FOR SCHOOL!!!" I remember them getting in screaming matches over something they disagreed about on the news?! I remember what I believed to be the last time my father got physical with mom (it was the last time he did it in front of us), and how my brother went off; broke a chair and screamed at them, and then locked himself in the bathroom. The physical seemed to stop after that, but the verbal continued.

(I later learned from my mom that that *wasn't* the last time, but that the physical stopped shortly after that when she finally fought back one night.)

My mom has her own issues with alcohol. She doesn't think she is an alcoholic because she doesn't drink ALL DAY, yet she drinks most EVERY day, and 'catches a buzz' most every day. She doesn't get as drunk as my dad, and she can abstain (like when she takes care of L) but the tendency is definitely there. Just because you are not falling down drunk every day does not mean there isn't a dependence there...

The two families that I grew up closest to had their own, somewhat similar somewhat different, issues with alcoholism. It just seemed normal to me that parents drank every night. And not just came home and had a drink or two, but got DRUNK, every night. Growing up around the bar like I did, it was just all around me. Alcohol was just an every day part of life. I didn't realize (sadly) until I was a teenager that there are A LOT of families that aren't like that.

My brother also has the tendencies. He is one who DEFINITELY cannot just have one or two; when he drinks, he gets PLOWED. He went through a phase in his twenties where he was drinking constantly. I hated him so much for that. It had always been him and I against the world, and we had hated what we grew up with SO MUCH, and how could he GO THERE? I never stopped loving him, and I never stopped letting him crash at our place, and I never stopped taking care of him (as much as it caused friction with W and I at times) but I really hated that person he was becoming. Thankfully, he has beautiful daughters and a wife and enough going on in life to keep him away from that life, but I have no doubts that the seed remains within him, and without care and vigilance, and presented with the right circumstances, he could easily wind up down that road.

I am no angel. I definitely have done my share of self medicating with substances, mine just happened to not be alcohol. It definitely ventured beyond experimentation at times, into the realm of addiction. Given the right (horrible) circumstances, I am sure it would not be impossible for me to fall into a life of addiction if I lost sight.

W's dad drank his fair share while W was growing up. There were other issues in his family that led him to also do some self medicating and experimenting with alcohol and other drugs, and he also drifted beyond the experimentation phase at times in his life. There was a time, after we had been together for about 6 years, before we got married, that I questioned if I wanted to be with him. He was drinking pretty heavily, on a daily basis, and although I loved him, and the thought of leaving seemed impossible, I KNEW that I did not want to marry my father. I had made myself a promise YEARS before, that I FULLY, without a doubt, intended to keep, and that was that I would NOT, no matter what, let my children grow up thinking that getting drunk every night was 'normal'. I would NOT continue the cycle. It was a hard time in my life. But, we talked, and I let it all out, and he made changes, and he grew, and I do not doubt that we were put together in this life to help each other.

When I was 20, a very close friend of mine was killed by a drunk driver who had a record of drunk driving offenses.

I have watched kids I grew up with take their experiences and react in different ways...some have taken the lessons, and like me, vowed to break the chain. Some have taken the lessons and set them aside and will inevitably continue to cycle.

Alcoholism never seems to back down...it is consistant in my life. It continues to knock on my door, no matter how many times I tell it is not welcome. It won't let me be. Now, it has returned in the form of my friend who has relapsed after so many years of being strong. It has and continues to cause me so much heartbreak. I hate it.

And yet, I know that its ever annoying presence serves a purpose. I AM intended to break the cycle. I DID choose this life, and these parents and these people who surround me and these challenges because I AM the catalyst for change.

And yet, knowing this does not make it any easier. I know I need to reach out to my friend who is struggling, and I know I will, but I just need some time to process this. Some time to work through the ANGER at the alcoholism that this current situation has re-ignited. And time to remember that I chose this because I *can* help make change, I *am* meant to break the cycle.

The feminist in me....

So the Feminist in me reared her gorgeous head last night...She still kinda takes me off guard when she surges forward with her sort of newly found voice...

My father-in-law and his wife invited us over for supper last night, which totally ROCKS on a weekday since it means that the mad dash that constitutes 'evening' in our house does not have to be so mad, and there are no dishes to find time for, either.

So we were sitting in the living room after seriously gorging on some bad ass chili, and the CMA's happened to be on the TV (or the TB, as the boy would say ;0) ). I am not a country fan, but whatever. So some chic in a pretty tight, short black skirt and low cut top was singing some song, and L was glued in his spot watching her intently.

"You like that peanut? Does she sing so pretty?"

"Yeah" he says, without even a sideways glance...

"Yeah, she sings alot prettier than Mama"

Then my father in law decides to add his two cents and this is what I hear come out of his mouth:

"She's SEXY, huh buddy, can you say 'sexy'?"

Cue angry feminist voice screaming in my head WHAT THE FUCK!? Are you fucking kidding me? Did you really just tell my 2 year old son that this chic is SEXY? And not only that but try to teach him to SAY IT? Did you really just imply to my son, who happened to be just enjoying a beautiful voice and song, that he should pay more attention to the fact that this lady is SEXY than just enjoy the beautiful voice that is radiating out of her mouth? I really wanted to channel some BHJ awesomeness and slice my FIL's head off with a samurai sword in one fell swoop...

Seriously.

The level of my anger at that statement took me by surprise. And really, it may seem like no big deal to him, and really, it may NOT be as big a deal as angry feminist voice made it out to be, but honestly, that type of shit DOES make a difference. Those subtle messages that we send to our children even, or maybe even ESPECIALLY, at this young age DO matter, and will shape their mentality towards all types of things later in life, and I will be damned if my son will grow up viewing women as objects.

Yes, she was beautiful. And she was sexy. And I don't think for even a moment that my father in law looks at women solely as sexual objects. And I sometimes even feel good about being found sexually desirable. But something about my father in law telling my 2 year old son that 'she is SEXY', and trying to get him to say it, REALLY REALLY rubbed me the absolute wrong way.

A day of remembrance

November 11. Veteran's Day in the US. Remembrance Day in Canada (my calendar tells me so). A day to remember and give thanks to the brave men and women who have served and/or died for our freedom. How fitting, and coincidental(or maybe not) that 9 years ago this day took on another cause for remembrance for myself and my group of friends.

9 years ago today, 11/11/99, about this time of the day, I got the call from my friend S that our friend Paul had shot himself sometime in the early morning. I remember that call as if it were yesterday. It struck me as wrong as soon as I picked up the phone and heard her voice at the other end, because she had NEVER called me at work. That and the shakiness in her voice told me immediately that something was terribly wrong.

She said "Paul shot himself last night" and I remember asking "He shot himself??...Is he...is he dead?"

Of course, the answer was yes. At which point, I lost it. I remember going and standing in the doorway of my co-workers office, crying, and sinking down to the floor. I was 20 years old, and this just couldn't be real.

My boss was very understanding and told me to go home and take what time I needed. The ride home is a blur of tears and questions and disbelief. The afternoon was spent with our core group of friends, no one *totally* surprised by Paul's suicide, and yet at the same time, shocked that he had actually done it. And drugs. Drugs to numb the pain. The pain that they had helped to cause in the first place.

I remember thinking back to watching my mother cry after receiving the news that her good friend's 18 year old son had shot himself.

Paul had been one of W's best friends. He had a troubled childhood, in which his mother had abandoned him, his sister and her 2 children from a different marriage, leaving them with his father. He grew up VERY bitter toward his mother, and women in general. He, like a lot of our group, was into drugs, all kinds, but had definitely gotten into a serious relationship with meth and coke, and the old stand by, alcohol. He had a rocky on and off relationship with the mother of his 3 year old daughter. She deserved so much better, and I think she had finally realized and fully accepted that and told him so not long before he shot himself. (I am not, IN ANY WAY, saying that his suicide was her fault, although I know that she struggled with a LOT of guilt for a long time, as did many of our other friends.) I considered him my friend, although he treated me like shit as he did all females...he had more to hate me for than just his usual bitterness toward females though; he hated me because W and I had been seeing each other for about 2 years, and I had 'stolen' W from him...So, in compromise, the three of us spent alot of time together, doing our thing.

It was the start of one of the most difficult times in my life to date. Suicide leaves those surviving friends and family in such a bad spot. As much as anyone knows that they should not blame themselves, it is impossible not to second guess everything you said or did to that person. He had told W multiple times that he should just do it. Everyone knew the emotional struggles he went through. 2 weeks before he shot himself, he came to our apartment, wasted, in the wee hours of the morning and had passed out on our floor. When he woke up a couple hours later and we would not let him take our bike or our car, he stormed off, swearing we were no longer his friends and that we didn't care about him. 10 days before he did it, I picked him up in jail at 2am after he was driving drunk and crashed his car. He told me on the way home that there was NO WAY he was EVER going back to jail. I have no doubt in my mind now that he was already sure in his mind that he was going to do it, it was just a matter of when. He had called many of our other friends earlier that night, looking for someone to come and get him and hang out, but by that point everyone was feeling that they were at their last straw with him, nobody could handle being around him and the abuse that he doled out to everyone at all times. Any attempts at helping him were shot down and countered with abuse. This is why there was so much guilt among our friends. There was too much a feeling that we had let him down. Instead of stepping up, we had turned our backs. But what do you do when all of the help that you try to offer is countered with hatred and anger and pulling away? Not to mention we were in our early 20's, and many of us had our own issues with drugs and denial and emotional ineptidudes. Everything was just so foggy and crazy and messed up and we were so ill equipped to deal with the situation.

I still think about Paul on occasion. I still have his obit hanging on my tack board in my office. But, honestly, I can't say that I 'miss' him. I honestly cannot imagine my life right now had Paul not committed suicide. The mother of his child found comfort in the arms of another of his best friends, and he in hers. At first it was awkward, but now, it only makes sense. Today, they are married, with 3 children (hers, his and theirs) and they happen to be some of mine and W's closest friends. I *KNOW* to the bottom of my heart that were Paul still alive we would not still be friends, and I would not have J, one of my best friends, in my life as she is now (her and I really only became close because she was dating our good friend M). Nor would I have their wonderful children in my life. I doubt I would have had the opportunity to be close to Paul's daughter as I am now.

Not only that, but I think it has saved Paul's daughter and her mother, and all of us, really, of years of anguish watching Paul buckle under the weight of his depression and his substance abuse. Many of us went on to move beyond the crazy drug use that defined that time in our life, but a few did not, and I fear Paul would be one of those who didn't make it beyond were he still alive. It breaks my heart to see those people caught up in the vicious life that is addiction.

Paul lives on through his daughter. A is an amazing young lady who radiates her father's essence in so many ways...Looking into her eyes is EXACTLY like looking into Pauls, without the ever present trace of anguish. She has Paul's competetive spirit; that attitude that if it is worth doing, it is worth being the best (or sometimes, if I can't be the best then I don't want to do it at all). She is so smart, and spirited and I am so thankful to be able to watch her grow and to see her father shining through. Not to mention how wonderful is it that I get to be a guiding influence and a friend to her in this life.

So, today I remember Paul with a heavy heart. I am not thankful that he did what he did and I cannot be certain that his life would have continued to descend to the depths, and yet, the landscape of my life is hard to imagine without that experience, and it is hard to think about my life without his daughter and her mother and their family in my life exactly as they are.

Happy 30th, R

Today, the woman who has been my best friend for the last 24+ years turns 30. I can hardly believe it, as all the memories I have with her feel as though they happened yesterday. I am beyond grateful that she is STILL a part of my life after all this time; and not just a part of my life, but an IMPORTANT part of my life.

We met when we were in 1st grade. She was the new girl, and I don't remember much about meeting her, but I remember I wanted to be friends with the new girl. We both lived in the country, near a small town, but rode different buses. I suppose we became friends because of our parents' shared connection to the local bar. I am not even sure. R probably remembers though, she remembers SO MUCH more than I do :0) I was just thinking the other day that I honestly don't even know where they lived before they came to my town? Funny how you can know someone intimately for the majority of your life and still not know everything about them!

R is completely intertwined in my life; she is as much a part of my history as I am. She knows everything I went through growing up; knows most everything that has shaped me into the person I am today, and I would like to think she feels the same way about me.

I remember so many good times; sliding down her icy driveway, being pulled by the 4 wheeler, the cooking shows we hosted from my sandbox, swimming at Trout Brook, tubing, that time I had my first Big Mac on the way to her cousins house, running around the hills by her house, our fantasy land of Terabithia near the fence corner at the edge of my parent's wooded property, her birthday party that year that we played with the Ouija board and her parents got SOOO pissed at us (OMG, that night still gives me the goosebumps; I had the funniest conversation with her parents the other night about that particular event - they have sworn revenge in the form of the gift of an Ouija board to mine and R's kids when they turn 12 - AHHH!!!), passing notes in high school, hot boxing the car with cigarette smoke on the way to school every morning, fighting!! (Oh the fights we had, LOL, we fought like a couple of wolverines, and about the stupidest stuff sometimes...but we always made up), our impromptu weekend jet-a-way to Florida 7 years ago, her telling me she was pregnant with C, being there at C's birth, learning of her pregnancy with M, her in my wedding 5 months pregnant with M...

I remember lots of tough times too; and sad times and angry times. Those are as much of our history as the good times...

Even though we fought, R was always there for me. She was my confidant, my rock, the one I could go to with anything, the one who understood the difficulty of my home life, the one who told me what I needed to hear, even if I didn't want to hear it, the one who had the guts to tell someone when she thought I had a problem with cocaine in HS (man, I was mad at her...She was right, although it was not coke, but similar...there is much to that story, but that is for another post).

Never could I guess that we would REALLY still be this close at 30 years old, 25 years after we met...We did drift apart for awhile, in the last year of HS (the time of the cocaine incident) and the first couple of years after HS. We had different things going on in our lives. But the Universe had plans for us, that did not include us growing further and further apart. We reconnected at a time when we both really needed it; she was at the beginning of some tough times in her life, and I was moving away from a destructive path in my life and feeling lost and was desperately missing her presence in my life (I didn't at the time know I was missing her so much, but looking back I can see it).

There is something, that I cannot put into words, about the unique relationship that forms with someone who has known you forever. It cannot be matched. It cannot be recreated with someone you meet in your adult life. Yes, strong bonds can be formed with someone you meet later in life, but for me, it will never feel the same as my relationship with R. As I said, she is as much a part of me as *I* am. Without her, I would not be whole. She cannot be extricated from the tapestry that is me.

Today, at 30, R is an amazing woman. Her journey has taken some turns that she never expected, and she isn't necessarily where she thought she would be at 30, but she is there, and she is living life. She is a strong woman (even if she feels weak inside), a great mother, a wonderful friend.

R~ I know that your life is not necessarily what you had pictured it to be, and you may feel that you could be doing things better or different, but just know that you ARE doing a great job, you ARE a great mother and friend, and you are a shining light on this earth, your children DID make a good choice when they chose you, and I am SO THANKFUL to have YOU as part of ME.

I hope that things in your life continue to look up; you deserve it. I wish for you a WONDERFUL birthday.

And I hope that in another 25 years I am saying Happy Birthday to my best friend of 50 years.

A letter of thanks...

T-

Becoming a mother has caused me to reflect on my life and the experiences, choices and people that have influenced me. Lately, I have been thinking about your family and what you did for me and what it has meant in my life.

I do not know the extent of your knowledge, but I am sure that you figured out that life at the (family) home was difficult, and at times, volatile. I sometimes joke with people that I was ‘raised in a bar’. The sad part is, that is pretty much how I remember it, and how it felt, at least from my child’s perspective. Many of my memories of childhood involve the bar, hanging out in the booths, or the video store or running around (the town). When I look at L and I think about that it saddens me deeply.

Looking back at it from my adult perspective, I can only assume that your family was also saddened by the situation, and that it was a driving force behind offering me a ‘job’ of buttering buns and helping out around the place, at my young age of 10. I was there so often anyway, might as well earn a little money and have something to do.

I am so thankful that you did. Your entire family; you, (brother), (mom and dad), (Grandma and Grandpa),(sister), (oh and 'resident old bartender' too!) have had a positive impact on my life and have helped shape who I am today, and you ALL mean SO MUCH to me. I remember I looked up to you, T, SO much! And what did you do? You worked your butt off at that place. My work ethic has DEFINITELY been impacted by you and what you taught me! The whole 20 year experience and the larger (business)’s ‘family’ continue to be important in my life and to my family.

I have come to terms with my childhood; with my parents own personal struggles and the choices they made. Although they made some bad decisions, they really are good people and loving parents. Were it not for the situation, I would not have the opportunity to write this letter of thanks. All of those experiences have left me with a clearer vision of who *I* want to be, and the things that I do and do NOT want my OWN child(ren) to experience and learn growing up. I can only hope they are blessed to have some family friends as important to them as you have been to me.

So Thank You, for everything you and your family have done for and given to me. Please feel free to share the sentiment with your (mom and dad) and (brother). I just felt driven to let you all know that you will always hold a special place in my heart.



I will be going today to find the appropriate blank card for this sentiment this weekend, and will be handwriting and sending it out. As it stated, I have been thinking about this family lately, and feel it is important for me to follow through with it. Maybe it is just what one of them needs to hear right now or something. Maybe it is in the spirit of the approaching Thanksgiving Holiday. Maybe it is something that will have a future impact upon my life. I don't know. All I know is that it came to me this morning, and I know if I don't send it, I will regret it forever.

Something I have never done...

The buttons have been sitting on the dryer by the door for a few weeks. There are 3 of them. Every day as I walked by them I have contemplated doing it...pinning one onto my purse strap. It would be fairly safe; it's not like I was putting a bumper sticker on my car; most people probably wouldn't even notice it. It would be like speaking at normal volume in a noisy room; someone right next to me might hear, but then again, they might not. And the majority of the people would never even notice what I was saying. But I have always stopped short because I am so fucking indecisive. One day I feel I am SURE that there is no way I am going to vote for McCain, but then the next day I start thinking *ideologically* again, and then I start the whole weighing the pros and cons thing all over again...

I start stacking the chips, and keep finding that every time I do it, I come back around to the fact that although I don't agree with Obama on everything, I agree with him on more issues than not. Not to mention the fact that my biggest turn off, which happens to be his lean toward bigger gvmnt and socialism, is becoming more and more of a non-issue...In the past, the Republican party has always claimed to stand for smaller, less intrusive government. I believed them. The ideology seemed to make sense...personal responsibility, reward for hard work, less gvmnt intervention in our day to day lives, fewer laws, the idea that the free market works such that if the people at the top are making money, and the people down the chain work for it, that they will get their share and be treated well, protection of our personal rights and freedoms, etc. But the current state of the economy, among other things, seems to have opened my eyes to some things...I am becoming convinced that although the ideology may make sense, the incorporation of it has failed, and it's all a bunch of crap...

Trickle down economics? Those down the chain will benefit from the success of those at the top?! BAH! Yeah right...the greed and lack of morality and ethics seems to be choking off the downward flow of said 'success'.

Personal responsibility? Morality? Ethics? Good for the Geese, but not for the Gander, I guess...Greed along the spectrum has landed our economy in dire straights. EVERYONE is paying for the actions of some...It's a 'necessary evil' to bail out the big financial institutions and Wall street types (rather than let them fall prey to their shady, unethical business practices and greed) because if we don't, it will hurt ALL of us worse in the long run...although it may be true, it pisses me off to no end...and yet, it seems that the majority of the Republicans are not in favor of at the same time trying to help out the homeowners who are facing a similar situation of their own...they may also be guilty of extending themselves beyond their means, but I still would rather help them out than help those who made GOBS AND GOBS of money off of the rest of us...I also know that the Democrats are not innocent in all of this, and were the ones who pushed these institutions to extend credit to more people...I also think that the push for de-regulation is not working, as obviously a lot of these entities cannot be trusted to 'do the right thing' when left to their own devices. This is getting jumbled and off topic; basically, although the *ideology* is reasonable to me, I feel that the current direction is not working...

Protection of our personal rights and freedoms? Sure, unless it has to do with a woman's right to choice when it comes to HER reproductive life, or if the government wants to tap your phone calls in the name of 'national security', or if you would like to have civil liberty rights with your partner who happens to be the same sex as you...

(disclaimer; I am not pro-abortion, I am pro CHOICE...Abortion, to me, is horrible in most cases, but should NOT be the realm of the government)

The war in Iraq? What ever happened to the plan of going in, removing Saddam, stabilizing their gvmnt and training them and then MAKING THEM TAKE OVER at some point? If we do not set a time table to turn responsibility over to them, they aren't EVER going to take over the lead role on their own. Much easier for us to spend OUR money. Not that it has to be a publicly announced time line, but there HAS to be some sort of plan to get our troops out of there.

Not to mention, what ever happened to OBL, the ORIGINAL target?

Not to mention, I don't like the growing disdain for the USA that this administration has seemed to create...The more and more I read about the global view of the USA and what we stand for and believe in, the more I am convinced it is time for a different approach.

Not to mention the level of involvement of the religious right in the Republican party is starting to freak me out.

Not to mention that Sarah Palin is beginning to annoy me, BIG TIME, with her "I'm just like you soccer mom" spiel...I know that's a damned if you do damned if you don't type situation for them, but she bugs me.

I still don't like the idea of wealth redistribution, and have no idea what the answer to the big tax question is, how to make it fair and how much is too much, etc etc.

So, I could really go on, but you get the point, Internet. I don't know the RIGHT answer, and it may still be the lesser of two evils, but I can't see continuing on the same type of path we have been on.

Maybe it's because having a child has changed ME and my view on the world at large and what our responsibilities should be to society as a whole...

So, I did it this morning. I stuck one of those Vote Obama 2008 pins on the strap of my purse. I am trying to be decisive. I am (quietly, tentatively) putting my political opinion out there to the public, which is something I have never done.

He even wrote me a poem...

I had intentions of watching the entire presidential debate last night, but when I put L to bed and W decided to go visit a friend in need for a bit, the beckoning of my little black box (which is actually a chest) was more than I could resist. So, I shut the door so the light crossing the hall would not wake the boy and I cracked open my chest of memories for the first time in a LONG time...

I pushed aside various things that I had no desires for at that moment; I waded through awards and cards and pages of jokes and emails and Lynda's obituary (luv and miss you, my Lyndy Lou)and the cast from when I broke my thumb a few years ago, and a couple of journals (I DO want to read through them again, but not right now, I have a VERY specific target right now) and some high school pictures of various people I have forgotten about over the 11 years since I graduated. I set aside a couple of shoe boxes of notes from high school and AHA! There it is, the shoebox with the letters. I know exactly where they are, standing up along the left hand side of the box.

I pulled them out; there were 5 of them total, less than I remember. I guess we talked on the phone more than we corresponded by letters. They are numbered, in the order I received them, and inside of each envelope the pages are numbered too. I took #1 out of the envelope and I could see where the cologne had soaked in and blurred the edges of the ink...I put it to my nose, but the smell has long since dissipated; damn.

#2 is the letter that had the kindergarten picture, but it also had a 7th grade photo which I had forgotten about.

#3 had the trinket; it was a little button that said "Too drunk for sex", with a reference to the button being "totally you - NOT!" I do not drink, and I think it was also a little joke about me (as of yet) not wanting to have sex with him (which he was totally respectful of). 'It reminds me of us' was what he said in regard to the clipping he included of an Obsession ad with a man's face buried in a naked female torso; very sexy.

#3 was also the letter with the poem. I had totally forgotten he had written me a poem. It was sweet and abstract and full of metaphor, and I remember thinking at the time that it was perfect.

Reading back through the letters confirmed my memory that he indeed liked me as much as I liked him and that my mind has not been embellishing the details as our minds tend to do as the distance between now and then grows. It reminded me why he holds a spot in my heart still, and that knowing how he is doing now could very well turn the sweet memories bitter and taint the good life I have imagined for him.

I put the letters back in order and back in the box against the end where I had found them, where they will stay until I get the urge in another 10 years to re-live one of the good times from my childhood / teenage years. I have decided I can never throw them out. I would regret it when next I had the NEED to see them and take that trip.

That was not, however, the end of my trip down memory lane...after I finished with the JJ letters, I went through a few of the notes from the HS notes shoe boxes...OMG R, I wanted you there with me SO bad! We REALLY need to have a day of reading through those babies. Most of them are from you, although there are some from Blondie, M, T, N, the whole crew...They are funny shit. There's alot of talk about work at the bar and moonlight bowling and the C town crew vs the H town crew. Most of them end with "WBS" and "Sorry So Messy", LMAO! It made me wonder if you kept any of the notes from me? And what did you do to your right hand during high school that you had to write with your left hand?!??

There were also some letters from some people I don't even remember, and will need to probe the memory of my brother and possibly others to place these people.

I definitely will need to take some more time to go through my little black box someday soon, but for now my thirst has been quenched, and my heart is full of the sweet memories of young love and HS friends.

The one that got away...

The morning show I listen to has a bit that is called "The one that got away" where they select a listener every week who has someone from their past that they would like to know about, and the station will track them down and ask them 10 questions of the inquirer's choosing...The person who initiates the contact isn't on the phone live with them; the DJ talks to them off line and records the answers to play back the next day to the person who wanted to ask them.


The first time I heard the bit, it got me thinking about someone from my past, someone who didn't really 'get away' but more like just faded away...I would love to know what he is doing with his life these days and if he is happy and has a family, etc etc. Not because I harbor secret desires for him, just because he will always hold a special place in my heart; he was my first love.

I met JJ at the lake when we were 13. Like my family, his had been going there multiple weekends each summer for years, only they stayed at a campground just down the lake shore with their motor home, and we stayed at the local city park which allowed overnight camping (but had no electric or running water). We had gotten to the age where we started running around the little town (seriously little, like a population of 100 people little) and met the local group of cigarette and pot smoking, mushroom popping, acid dropping juvenile delinquents with whom JJ and his sister were already running. Most of them were older than JJ and I by a couple of years, we were pretty much the young 'uns. I remember hanging out under a tree at the park the first day we met, smoking cigarettes and listening to the "Singles" soundtrack on some one's boom box and him playing footsie with me, LOL.

JJ and I connected for some reason, possibly simply because we were the two babies of the group. We lived about 85 miles apart, but after that first weekend, we started keeping in touch via the phone - OMG, that first phone bill, my parents almost killed me. Young love; expression of longing and lust over the phone, laying on my bed wishing we lived closer and cursing the unfairness of life and love. We also sent letters...he would spray his cologne on them before sending them and when I got them I would smell them for days. One letter contained a kindergarten photo of him. Another a small trinket that escapes me right now. I know I must have sent him miscellaneous pieces as insights into me, although I couldn't tell you what they were. I still have all of his letters with trinkets intact (along with multiple shoe boxes of notes my bf R and I passed in middle and high school!); I wonder if they hold any trace of his scent? I can still remember it, and on the few occasions that I have smelt some man wearing it in public I have been overwhelmed by feelings from the past. My black trunk containing these and many other reminders of the past has been beckoning me lately; I think an afternoon of reminiscing is in order.

(I just need to get rid of W for an afternoon...Although he knows all about JJ and knows -to an extent- what is in my black trunk, which ALSO includes diaries from the first 4 years of knowing and falling for HIM, it does not feel right to have him around when I am walking that road...)

I remember smoking pot for the first time with JJ, out of a pop can, hiding behind the bushes in the park across the little bridge from my families camp site. The next year I remember (vividly) us giving each other our virginity behind that same row of bushes. It was dark, awkward and painful, and I remember him being SO concerned about me. I stopped the act before any conclusions were reached, but that was okay with both of us. I honestly cannot say for sure whether or not we did it again after that; I think there may have been one more time when my parents indulged my incessant pleading and took us up to their place for an overnight...we stayed in our camper in their yard. JJ took me out 4-wheeling and there was some time spent making out in the woods. I remember I REALLY wanted to, but not sure if it did actually happen or not...

We kept in touch for a couple of years, writing and calling and expressing our longing between those weekend trips in the summer. Most of the summers we got to see each other about 3 times; ALWAYS Memorial Weekend and Labor Day Weekend and once in between. I remember the winters were hard, although we both seemed to get caught up with our lives at school so that it seemed the weeks between the summer encounters were almost harder to get through. After a couple of years, we both got more and more involved with our local lives, and it just kinda faded. In that time I met W, as well as had some weird pseudo relationships with a couple of other guys, and I am assuming the same happened for him.

I quit going up north with mom and dad as I was too involved in my life at home and my partying on weekends to take a break and go hang with mom and dad. The last I heard about JJ was when my brother ran into him at the lake when we were making one last trip to the camp site we had used for YEARS as they were closing it to overnight camping...I must have been 19 or 20; I believe W and I were living together already. I *just* missed JJ; he talked to my brother for a few minutes just before we got there, and then I didn't make the effort to search him out that weekend, which I have never forgiven myself for. I was worried that W (who had a bit of an issue with jealousy and insecurity in our relationship at that point) and or JJ's girlfriend would get mad or weirded out or think my intentions were anything other than they were, which was just to touch base with someone who had been an important part of my life at one point and whom will ALWAYS hold a special place in my heart. He was my first love! So I to this day beat myself up for not finding him and chatting that weekend. My brother found out that he had a fiance, and was still living in the same town and a few other minor details, and assured me he looked the same only a bit older.

So ever since this 'One that got away' bit started, I have thought it would be so great to be able to have JJ answer 10 questions for me; is he happy? Married still? Kids? Career? Away from the partying ways we both played with in our teen years? Maybe most importantly, does he remember things like I do, and does he hold a special place for me in his heart as I do him?

Here comes the part I am almost embarrassed to admit; when the teaser for this week's bit was talking about a man who wants to find a girl he dated in his teen years and whom he shared the loss of virginity with but lost track of I have to say my heart jumped and I thought "Wouldn't that be CRAZY if it was JJ?"...and I seriously couldn't wait for the damn commercial to get over with so I could hear the dude's name and see who he was looking for. Even though most of me knew it was not going to be JJ, and that the chances he listens to this station are probably remote based on what he listened to back then, I still have to admit that I had a glimmer of hope.

It wasn't him, of course.

I have thought about calling in and trying to get them to find him, but have decided it is tacky and could be a can of worms I wish I had never opened after the fact. Maybe he is doing horribly and is a loser and has completely forgotten our history, and if that is the case, I do NOT want to know. I would rather keep it in my head the way I imagine it; that he is happy and healthy and a great dad and has a good wife, and they have a good life, with struggles just like everyone but for the most part they are happy. That he remembers me fondly and holds a place for me always in his heart and wonders about my life and maybe, just maybe, he even still has one of my letters that he just can't bring himself to part with.

All on me...

My parents never held back telling us how proud they were / are of us. Every accomplishment got us showered with praise and hugs and love, to the point where you just want to say ENOUGH already. Growing up, this is a good thing. Now though, thinking back to how much they praised us makes me feel even more guilty when I am overwhelmed by feelings of shame (of them).

Mom called me the other night just as L and i were getting started on our walk. We were headed to my MIL's house, which is pretty much a nightly stop on our walk. L gets upset if he can't stop and see GMa Linda and Rob when we walk by their house. I didn't want her to know we were stopping at my MIL's cuz I knew how it would make her feel, what she would say and in turn how it would make me feel. So I answered the phone already feeling irritated with her.

We chatted and I shortly arrived at GMa Linda's house and walked in...L played with Gma and Rob while I talked to my mom. Soon enough came the part of the conversation I was dreading...

"Well, I will let you go, it sounds like you have company"

"L and I just stopped at Linda and Rob's on our walk"

"Oh, well I won't keep you it sounds like you are busy with your family"

--WHAM-- there they are, the words that hit in my stomach like a ton of bricks.

"No, Mom, it's okay, we just stopped quick on our way by to say hi".

There's me, trying to make her feel better when really, I shouldn't be made to feel guilty for the way I feel toward my parents. It's THEIR choice to drink, and it's MY choice to not want my son to grow up (like I did) thinking that drinking to the point of being intoxicated EVERY night is normal. I want MY son to grow up seeing that not everyone does that.

"I will let you go. Have a good night, and one of these nights you will just have to stop by *our* house and visit *us* on your walk."

"'k Mom, love you, talk to you soon. Bye"

I hang up and the same old feelings come washing over me. The feelings of guilt, sadness, anger, resentment, shame. It's not fair; not fair that she makes me feel this way, not fair that they are the way they are.

I love my Mom and Dad so so much. Sometimes I just don't like them so so much. On the rare occasion that I get to see them on a Saturday morning I get to see their uninebriated selves, I am filled with love and longing...Longing that they could be like this all the time. Especially my dad...on those mornings, I get to see what my dad *could* be, and I love the *potential dad* so much (except for the shaking hands, of course...he will shake until he gets a few beers in him, and THAT part is hard to watch. Of course, it remains unspoke of, eyes averted. It is the elephant in the room...). Soon enough the joy is replaced by sadness because I know this state will be gone soon enough.

I hate that they drink so much. I hate that most of the time when we see them they are half in the bag (or more). I hate that they think it's normal and feel hurt when they see me spending more time with my MIL (who doesn't drink hardly EVER) and make ME feel guilty for making them feel hurt when it's their own fault. I hate that my mom thinks she doesn't have a problem because she goes to work everyday and doesn't drink in the morning before work (unlike her father, who would wake up in the night to take a couple of shots; her father who basically drank 24/7), and doesn't get falling down drunk. I hate that my father will readily admit that he has a problem but in the same breath explain it away that he has been doing it for so many years and it just is what it is. My dad who seems to be just drinking away the days, biding his time until he dies. My daddy, who talks to himself constantly and irritates me more than not these days.

I hate myself for not being able to come right out and tell her and my dad how I feel.

My brother has distanced himself. He has his wife and kids and her family, which is where he gravitates towards, which I TOTALLY understand. He likes to spend time with her family because they are about 180 degrees from what our parents are like, 180 degrees from what the atmosphere we grew up in, and 100% closer to what he wants HIS kids to grow up seeing. He gravitates toward them for all the same reasons I gravitate toward my MIL. (Funny part of that story is that his MIL and my MIL are sisters. He married my husbands first cousin. Our kids are double cousins; first cousins on our side and 3rd cousins on our spouses' side, hehe).

So I totally get it, and I don't blame him, but sometimes I get so envious of him, and somewhat angry at him as I feel I am left holding up our parents. They talk to ME about how it hurts them that he has pulled away. They talk to me like I am on *their* side. And I listen, and I give vague answers and I try to explain it from his side without just laying it all out there and letting them know that I understand EXACTLY what he is feeling and why he is pulling away. Because if I did, I fear they would be left feeling like they have no one on their side...I fear the sadness that could cause..I don't know if I can handle being the one to insert that knife and cause that wound...

I get so angry at them for giving me so little to be proud of them for.

Some days it feels like it's all on me.

The next chapter...

It's official, and as of August 8th @ 3:20pm, there will be no turning back.

DH and I decided (or maybe mostly I decided and he didn't argue?) that we are as ready as we will ever be to make L a little brother or sister...Decided that L is getting "too big", and that we should add another baby to the mix. So I called the dr's office and have an appt for August 8th to have my IUD removed. 2 weeks from today. It's very exciting and beyond scary all at the same time.

The more I think about it, the more sentimental I get thinking about the fact that this means L will no longer be our only little baby. We will no longer be able to play "Who's the cutest baby in the whole world?...L is!!" because there will be 2 cutest babies in the whole world. He will no longer be able to stake sole claim to that title...I feel a little sad taking that from him.

It just feels like it's gone too fast; I can't believe that we are already to the point of closing this chapter in our life; this chapter of 'just the three of us'. It seems like only yesterday that we were going through the whole TTC our first, the losses we had, and all of the emotions that went with it. That amazingly special time of going from being two seperate people bound as one by our love for each other to being a family bound even more so by a manifestation of that love. That time of discovering the first delicious taste of what it feels like to look at and hold and nurture a creation of that love. How truly wonderful and scary it is to realize this new role of parent you hold from now until forever and beyond. How can we already be turning the page to the next chapter?

And yet, at the same time, I cannot wait to feel those first flutters of a fetus in my belly (I remember the first time I felt L as if it were 5 minutes ago)...can't wait to have that little being with me, inside of me, every moment of every day for 10 months, dreaming and hoping and speculating and loving. I can't wait to experience again the empowerment of childbirth. To again undergo the most primal function the female body knows; to feel that connection to our mothers and their mothers and their mothers' mothers; to all mothers since the beginning of time...I can't wait to see what the next creation of our love will look like; will he or she look just like L did? Nothing like L did? Have a similar or divergent personality as L? I long to hold another baby to my breast. I just fear that I may feel like I am neglecting L as I revel in all the joys of a newborn baby...Fear that I somehow won't be able to manipulate time so there is enough to enjoy everything as much as I want to.

I know that this next chapter will be no less special than the previous, and that L's role as a big brother will be no less meaningful and wonderful than his role as the 'only child'. I have no doubt that my heart will simply grow and I will have more than enough love for everyone and that unimportant things will be set aside and this will allow me to somehow find the time to really focus on the things that matter.

It's just the reality of time passing weighing down on me more heavily now that we have actually made this decision.

Emotionally vulnerable...

No one ever told me that having a child, being a mother, would leave me with an emotional wound so raw that I will forever feel vulnerable.

Well maybe they told me, but they described it by saying things like "You'll wear your heart on your sleeve". Said it in ways that in no way, shape or form came even CLOSE to making me understand the astounding depth of vulnerability I would feel upon bringing that little human being into the world.

I have discovered that my heart is not 'on my sleeve', a piece of my SOUL happens to currently be 40 miles away from me. Wherever that little person is, find him, and you have found my heart, my soul. The moment he came forth from my womb, a piece of my soul was ripped from my core along with him and thrown out in the open to be forever exposed. Like a snail sans shell, that piece of me is and forever will be in imminent danger. While in my care, my soul was sheltered, hidden behind years of carefully constructed walls to keep out the pain...motes dug to discourage the enemy...structures built from lessons learned. Now, this piece of my soul is going to go through it all again...all the things that I cannot protect him from, those things he needs to experience on his own to build his own castle against will no doubt hurt me just as much as they do him...


All parents come to know this, but somehow it gets passed over amidst all of the other "Your life will never be the same" type warnings one receives while waiting for that first little bun to come out of the oven. Maybe that is intentional; if one knew completely the depth of this feeling prior to having kids, we may be less likely to undertake the task; that is, until we fully understand the depth and the massive expanse of the emotional fulfillment that also come with it. Quite possibly it is impossible; impossible for anyone to fully grasp the depth of the emotion without having experienced it for themselves, and therefore impossible to explain in simple words.

I wonder how my soul will be able to handle the additional burden of having another child? I wonder, seriously, if I am emotionally capable of spreading my heart out even more? I wonder how any parent ever goes on after some tragedy or another befalls their child? How does a parent cope with loosing a child? I honestly cannot imagine having to endure what must be immense agony that comes with that, and it scares me to think that I will be opening myself even more to that possibility by having another child...

Knowing that having another child means being even more vulnerable is a scary, scary thing.

But I do not want to; no, I CANNOT live my life in fear...WILL not give up the happiness because of fear...

How did I get here?

On my mind today....



My 'baby' will be turning 18 mos old tomorrow, and I am feeling quite melancholy about this at the moment...Something about saying "My baby is *18* mos old"...A year and a half...I feel like I cannot say he is my "baby" anymore. He has reached one of those invisible milestones that, for some reason or another, come to mean so much to us...In the blink of an eye he has gone from this teeny, needy, nursing, coo-ing, rolly polly little baby to a running, talking, climbing, jumping, independent toddler who is showing us more and more everyday who he is inside...I used to be able to hold him on my chest by cradling his little bum in one hand, and now his legs dangle down when I carry his sleeping self in from the car after coming home from somewhere after bedtime...

At least he is still small enough to wrap up in my lap and read a bedtime story. But how much longer do I have before he overflows my (ample) lap? Not long enough, I fear...

I think the saddest part is that I know that in what feels like the same 'blink of an eye' I will be feeling melancholy because he is turning 18...


This morning, a guy at work was singing that Talking Heads song that goes "And you may ask yourself 'Well - how did I get here?" I agree - How *did* I get here?

Wasn't I just like 5 years old answering the phone for my dad during the day while he was working in the garage??("Daddy says I don't have to take that shit from no one!")

Wasn't I just 7 (or was it 6?) meeting the "new girl" in first grade who, unknown to me at the time, would go on to be my best friend long into our adult years (and hopefully till the end of our days in this lifetime!); the 'new girl' who went on to become one of the most valuable people in my life?

Wasn't I just 10, running around at the Wahkon Campground with all my camping buddies, not a care in the world besides what I was doing at the moment?

Wasn't I just 14 feeling the rush of emotions that comes with young love and experimentation?


Wasn't I just 18, graduating from high school, the world laid out before me like the sea, the possibilities glistening endlessly on the surface?

Wasn't I just 19, graduating from tech school, starting my career in the 'real world', feeling excited and terrified of the road ahead of me?

Wasn't I just 20, going through one of the hardest periods in my life to date; loosing Paul to suicide and 6 mos later loosing my Linda to a drunk driver? My Linda who, although our time was brief in this life, was and is my soul mate...My soul mate whom I know I will meet again in another life, just as my soul has met (her) in many lifetimes before this one...

Wasn't I just 25 and totally in love and getting married to my high school sweetheart and enjoying our most AMAZING honeymoon?

Didn't I just YESTERDAY give birth to this amazing son who is now turning 18 months old? This little miracle that sprung from our love, and who grew and flourished inside of me for 10 months and continued to thrive solely on the fruit of my own body for an additional 6 months...who has gone from a helpless little being into an independent little person who every day is discovering new things and growing into himself??

How can it be that I am a MOM? How can it be that I am an *adult* with adult worries, adult responsibilities, adult problems, adult thoughts? I spent so much time wanting to get here, and now that I am here, I have a hard time believing it...

So, yes, I wholeheartedly agree you Talking Heads...How did I get here?