A sad day...

The matriarch of this family had a massive heart attack last night and is currently in critical condition, on life support and in an induced coma, at the hospital.

I am supposed to be working; I NEED to be working, but all I can think about is this family and the ache this is causing in the pit of my stomach.

I stopped by her room this morning because I had to be at the hospital anyway for work, in the exact wing she happened to be located, and I couldn't NOT stop. I didn't want to intrude, but I felt compelled to express my love and to let the family know I was thinking of them and that I was available if they needed ANYTHING.

I only stayed about two minutes, and didn't even enter the room; the whole situation felt sacred - something to be shared by the family. But the daughter (whom the letter was initally sent to) assured me that I was not, in fact, intruding, and thanked me for stopping. She mentioned the letter and said how it had had a very large impact on her mother; how proud and happy it had made her, and how they had talked about it often. All in all, I am very glad that I did stop.

That entire family means a lot to me, and has for the majority of my life. I am very saddened today. The prognosis at this point is not good - they will be doing some additional testing today. I am hoping and sending my love and energy their way.

And now I am going to try to get some work done.

Day three...

Third day back at work, and things are okay. Only okay. But that is better than terrible!

Evenings are 10X more hectic with two than they were with just the one, and the hardest part is that baby C is extremely worn out, a bit cranky, and sleeping within an hour and a half to two hours of me picking him up from daycare. BEYOND FUCKING SUCKY. I have hardly seen his coo-ing, smiley, happy personality at all this week. And I know it will get better; he will get more used to all the stimulation and will adjust and won't be so tired in the evenings, L went through the same thing. But for now it really sucks. SO I have been letting him fall asleep on the boob and just holding his sleeping little self for a bit before laying him down in his crib.

This morning was a bad drop off...Baby C was crying, L was whining, I was running late. I tried to comfort the baby while helping L get his shoes off, but ended up having to turn the baby over still crying, and in all the commotion I didn't even get my hug and kiss from L and didn't get to tell him I love him and to have a good day. Not a good way to start my day.

On top of it all, today is 10 years since my friend Paul shot himself. I do not mourn him any longer; in fact I think I have stated before that I think things are better for many people, him included, the way things are, but it is still a tough memory. I still remember the day like it was yesterday, of course.

So yeah, today is another tough day. Soon I will stop posting crappy, sad, whiny posts, but that's all I got for today.

Happy Anniversary to W and I...

(Please note that this was intended to be posted Thursday, as that was our anniversary, but I got busy and didn't have time to finish it that night...Also note that this post is just a long trip down memory lane for me and may be a little boring for you :0))


W and I got married 4 years ago today. It was a gloriously sunny day; not a cloud in the sky. It was hotter than hell, like 98 or better, but not a drop of humidity, THANKFULLY. Had it been humid, it would have been miserable. I remember it had been an unusually rainy spring; it rained EVERY WEEKEND for the 7 weekends before our wedding date, and I remember being EXTREMELY worried that it would rain on MY BIG DAY. But, it didn't :0)

W and I spent the night before the wedding apart; my girls and I stayed at the house and booted him out to spend the night at his best man's house...I woke up that morning, rolled over in bed, looked my best friend of 21 years (since we were 5!), R, in the eyes and said "I'm getting MARRIED today!!!!" to which she replied "I know!!!" LOL...it really was the perfect start to a perfect day. There was something very surreal about waking up next to her; it brought me back to when we were kids having sleepovers (which happened often) and it just didn't seem possible that we could be adults, in our mid 20's, her with a babe at home and another on the way, and me getting married...It felt like maybe it was all a dream and we were REALLY still just kids, prentending it was my wedding day.

She was 6 mos pregnant at the time, R was, with her second babe, and although I didn't realize it at the time, I now fully and COMPLETELY can comprehend just how good of her it was to stand up there, in the 98 degree heat, in a modified bridesmaid dress, in a Catholic Church, have tons and tons of photos snapped, stand up and make a toast in front of 275 pairs of eyes, and dance the night away with me all while being 6+ mos pregnant. Not that she would have ever said no - I know it meant alot to her to be a part of my day, but it had to have been hard. Now that I have been pregnant myself, I can say that in NO WAY would I be excited about the prospect of doing all that crap at 6+ months pregnant. I would TOTALLY want to be part of my friend's day, and would TOTALLY do it, but I am sure it was by no means an EASY, super enjoyable day for her. Her part in my special day means even more to me now that I can understand it from that perspective :0)

We got married in a Catholic Church because it was what we knew and what was 'expected' of us. Growing up, that was the only kind of wedding I ever saw, and so my dreams of my wedding day had always been shaped around that. Although I had already moved far FAR away from the religion of my childhood at that point, I was not far enough along in my journey and not strong enough at that point to do it any other way. And I do not regret it, but will say that if I had it to do over again NOW, I would definitely do it different. The only part of it that truly bugged me was the part of the vows that talked about promising to accept the children that god gave us and to bring them up in the Catholic Church...I already had NO INTENTIONS of doing any such thing.

I always thought W would be the nervous one, but as it turns out, *I* shook like a LEAF through the entire ceremony...W was holding my hands and at more than one point had to ask me if I was okay I was shaking so hard. But I made it through, and only sounded a *little* silly as my voice got higher and higher pitched as I recited my vows, so that by the time I said "I do" I am 99.9% sure I squeaked that part out sounding like a mouse. And we only had one awkward moment when the 90 some odd year old ancient priest decided to take a little nap in his chair after communion, and the music had ended and everyone in the church started rustling around uncomfortably, not sure what to do next...I am pretty sure this was when R and I looked at each other and got the giggles, which we were SOMEHOW able to contain to the SILENT giggles, which probably didn't look any different to all the people in the pews than all the SHAKING I had been doing throughout the ceremony anyway.

My brother gave a great TEARFUL speech at dinner, my dad a drunken speech, my friend R a truthful heartfelt one...We ate, and visited and drank (well not me - just a little wine with dinner, but W, he drank...along with a lot of others who had their fill!) we danced, we celebrated, we loved. I got told over and over how I was the most radiant bride people had ever seen; that the love that W and I share was pouring out of us so visibly that day. And it was. And it does. I felt absolutely beyond beautiful that day...which is a feat for me...My self esteem has come a long way since I was a kid / teen, but I still have trouble seeing myself as beautiful, even though people tell me so, but that day, I had no troubles feeling it what-so-ever.








We partied after the reception at our house with our wedding party and some close friends...I remember busting out our bong and smoking some in front of my now sister in law, who was just starting to get serious with my brother at the time, and who probably had some knowledge that W and I were not so straight laced, but had probably never seen pot or a bong in her life, but I didn't care - it was my day and my house. I am pretty sure I went to bed around 4am, in my wedding dress and W came in as the sun came up and the birds were singing good morning.

Most of the wedding party and some of the friends crashed at our place, strewn around our house on couches, chairs and the floor...we were awoken at about 7:30 am by my crazy dad pounding away in the front yard, installing some stone steps that W had been meaning to get to for a while. LOL...my crazy dad...yeah.

I spent a lot of that next day still in my wedding dress and all my dolled up hair and makeup. I figured shit, I paid all that money for all that stuff, might as well enjoy it for as long as possible, right? Although I didn't spend too much money - I bought my dress off the rack on clearance for $100, and only spent $30 on alterations - Yeah baby ;0)



(7 Mile Beach, Negril Jamaica)

We left on Tuesday to spend a week in Negril, Jamaica on our honeymoon, and I will just say that that week was honestly the best week of my life. I have never felt so relaxed, happy and so deeply in love as I did that week. I have never seen such natural beauty as that of the white sandy beaches, teal greenish - blueish clear Caribbean water, the wildness of the jungle as we traveled inland to take a day trip to hike up a stream. THAT was a trip...from stopping on the side of a mountain on the way up to visit a true to live Rasta man who hacked us up fresh pineapple, that he had just picked, with a machete, while trying to get as many marlboro's off us as he could, with a huge doobie hanging out of his mouth the entire time; to eating fresh mango that our tour guide pulled from the mineral spring (OMGOD heavenly), to jumping from a cliff, to diving under the water to pass through a hole in this rock under the water (that was nuts - W wouldn't do it, but I did - I wouldn't do it again, but I am glad I did it once!), to our bus getting pulled over by the police on the way back to our resort. Seems they had some little issues with our driver's paperwork. The 'police', by the way, carried fucking machine guns, and I will be completely honest in saying that I was FREAKED RIGHT THE FUCK OUT as they argued with our driver...I kept thinking 'maybe they AREN'T the police...'. After hasseling our driver for awhile they let us pass, and I was able to relax again...



I pushed beyond my fears of the water and spent lots of time swimming, did a little snorkeling, jumped off the catamaran boat and swam around the caves by Rick's cafe which are amazing...and where the locals cliff jump from CRAZY heights...a few of the people on our cruise tried it too - THAT was one thing I didn't even consider ;0).



We ate candle lit buffet dinner barefooted on the beach most every night, and had fresh fruit smoothies and made to order omelets for breakfast most every morning. We opened the shutters in our room and laid on the bed listening to the rain and thunder which came each afternoon for an hour or so, and then blew away leaving more sunny skies and hot weather. The thunder was truly amazing...louder than any I have ever heard. Must have something to do with rolling out over the open ocean or something...




(Where the magic happened...well, *some* of the magic...some happened in OTHER places too, but we won't go into that ;0) )


(Oh, that hammock was TO DIE FOR. I really almost smuggled it home with me)


Mostly, I think it was just the relaxation that made it all so amazing. Of course, the relaxation was aided by a wonderfully mellow buzz from a little bit of Jamiaca's finest smoke, courtesy of our beach friend Elvis - not too mention all of the banana rum drinks that flowed freely all day and night! I am sure that the weight I gained was more from the banana drinks than all the food I ate!!


(This was the view from 'our spot' on the beach where we spent a LOT of our time...**sigh** wish I was there now :0) )




(Our beach friend Elvis...and me in my standard attire - sarong, tank top and sandles...with a banana rum drink in hand! Hmmm...for someone who really HONESTLY hardly ever drinks, I sure did drink a lot of alcohol THAT week!)

It just really was the most amazing time of my life, and I cannot believe that I almost didn't book the trip because I thought we couldn't afford it. My friend J convinced me that we MUST do it because if we didn't - if we said 'We will do it in 5 years' that we would SO REGRET it and that we probably would not get around to it and I am SO GRATEFUL for her relentless badgering because she was ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. We COULD afford it then; and had we waited, there is no way we would be doing it next year on our 5 year anniversary. There is no way we could afford it now. And in my heart I know that it would not be the same as it was then. The combination of all the stress and planning leading up to the wedding, and the excitement of just being married, and the fact that we didn't have any kids at home to miss (besides the cats!) made it impossible to recreate that same experience 5 years later. However, I do so hope that we are able to make it back there some day and are able to 'somewhat' recreate that level of relaxation, adventure and pure reveling in our love for each other.


(Looking at that photo, all I can think is MAN we look young!)

Bravo for you if you made it all the way through this trip down memory lane with me...thanks :0)

On my mind

Just a couple of things that are / have been on my mind.

-My recent reminiscing of my early days with W got me wanting to go through my old photos. I have been meaning to weed out the duplicates and then someday put them in the empty albums I asked for and received a couple of Christmases ago. On Saturday, I sat on the living room floor and pulled out the big box of photos and started going through them. W sat down next to me while L played with his cars near us. It was GREAT. We reminisced together over memories of days gone by - the good and the bad. And even better than the together-remembering was the deep conversation that followed. We talked about our childhoods and how they affected us similarly and differently (not that we haven't done this before, but it is the first real deep conversation since we became parents, which changes and clarifies your perspective so greatly...) We talked about how I have been going through some really intense reflecting lately, and how I am having issues with my feelings toward my parents right now. We talked about raising L and this coming baby, and how and why we want and NEED and WILL do things differently. It was some intense reconnecting that we REALLY REALLY needed. It was lovely.

-Not too long ago W and I had a conversation about homosexuality. I can't remember what spurred it, and I don't remember the conversation in detail, but the part that makes me sad is that we came to a point where I started getting angry at him for his opinion, and we had to agree to disagree...he truly believes that homosexuality is a CHOICE, that it is a 'learned behavior' and I do not. As far as gay marriage goes, I don't think he could care less either way, but he was surprised and disappointed that I totally believe that TRUE homosexuality is not a choice. It makes me sad that we disagree on that at such a fundamental level.

-W's mom asked us to go out to eat with them on Saturday at a place called Treasure Island. On Saturday morning, as I was getting L dressed, I told him that we were going to meet G-ma and R at Treasure Island and have lunch, and did that sound like fun? His eyes got all wide, he started nodding his head yes, and he said "We gon be PIRATES! We need a boat, too Mama!!!" at first, I was wondering what the heck he was talking about when it dawned on me that Dora the Explorer (L's favorite cartoon character) and her friends dress up as pirates and go sailing off to Treasure Island to look for buried treasure!! I laughed so hard! We had a blast on the way there pretending that the car was a boat, and that the river we crossed was Crocodile Lake; another obstacle that Dora and her friends must cross before they can get to Treasure Island. He woke this morning immediately talking about G-ma and R and pirates and treasure...Ahhh, he's growing up too fast.

-I have almost 15 weeks to go yet in this pregnancy, and it feels like a LONG time, and I am SO SORE. All the time. My hips and back and pelvic region seem to be feeling it much worse this time. Probably doesn't help that I am at the weight already at 25 weeks that I was at at 31 weeks last time. It's a lot of extra weight for my body to carry around...Yeah; I gained THIRTEEN, yes that's 13 pounds in the last 5 weeks (Go ahead and laugh, Kori, it's okay, my doctor did!)...I am not even sure how that is humanly possible, but obviously, for this human, it is. I thought I was doing kind of okay, I figured I would have another 8# month like last month, but it was even worse. I have promised myself and my doctor to buckle down a bit and hopefully slow the weight gain. So yeah, it feels like a LONG time to go. I know it will go by fast, but I am gonna be one crabby mama bear by the time this baby pops out! I am just going to keep walking as much as I can, at least 4 times a week, and keep stretching and hopefully I won't get too much more sore than I am now.

-Here's some more true as hell pregnancy information that, were you never pregnant yourself, you would probably never know. Having a little person kicking you LITERALLY in the anus from the inside is the WEIRDEST.FEELING.EVER. Or maybe she is kicking something like my intestine that's connected to my anus, but my anus is where I 'feel' it. Either way, it is not really all that pleasant. Sorry, but it's been happening, and it's on my mind.

Destiny

I have been thinking back a lot in the last few days to mine and W's early relationship; how we came together, where we have been, what we have come THROUGH together, what our love looked like back then. It has been good for my soul to pull these memories up and revel in their sweetness; not that it has been, by any means, ALL sweetness, but those are the memories I have been thinking about. With all the difficult memories I have been dredging up lately, remembering our years of love has felt good, and helped to balance me out.

I heard a song this morning that I guess I haven't listened to in quite some time and it instantly transported me back to an important incident in our journey that I hadn't thought about in a long time.

We had to have been 22 or 23 when my forever friend R and I took a spur of the moment weekend trip to Tampa, Florida. She was going through a hard time, and needed to get away. She called me on Tuesday and said "Let's go to Florida" and told me the flight details and cost, and said we leave on Thursday.

Now; I had NEVER flown anywhere. I had NEVER seen the ocean. I had NEVER done anything like this. I was 22. I had the money. I was a young professional. I was an ADULT, and I could DO something like this; just take off for the weekend. It didn't take me long to make the decision that Hell yeah, I needed to jet to Florida for the weekend.

W and I were living together at the time, and when I got home that night, I told him our plans.

He was NOT happy. At that time, he was still having some jealousy issues, and was still somewhat insecure in our relationship. I know that the reason for this is because he believed (and somewhat STILL does believe) that I was too good for him, and wondered why the hell *I* was with *him*. He has told me this. Several times.

We had a pretty good argument about it. I could understand some of his fears, but I honestly didn't much care. It was actually a really good thing in that it basically gave me the opportunity to express to him that he needed to get over the jealousy thing, and to realize that if I didn't want to be there, I wouldn't. And that I wasn't going to live the rest of my life in a relationship with someone who can't trust me because of his own insecurities. I had NEVER given him any reason to doubt me or to not trust me. And that I was GOING TO FLORIDA dammit, whether he liked it or not.

I left for Florida with a somewhat heavy heart. Before I left, he was still very cold toward me; obviously still hurt or angry or whatever that I was actually going through with it. The couple of times I talked to him over the weekend, he was quiet and didn't say much, and what he did say was snotty. Which on one hand made me angry, but I also missed him and knew he was missing me. It was the first time we had spent the night apart (let alone a FEW nights apart) in at least 3 years.

Although I was missing him, I had a BLAST!! It was my first adventure. And it was great fun. The ocean was amazing (people have corrected me saying "It's the Gulf, not the ocean", but I fail to see or acknowledge the difference. For me, it was my first trip to THE OCEAN.). So much more powerful and huge and awe inspiring than I had ever imagined it (think how blown away I was when I stepped into the 10 times sweeter Caribbean Ocean on our honeymoon to Jamaica!!). We swam in the ocean, even though it was the end of October and not all that warm. But to us, it was heaven, coming from the chilly fall weather we were escaping. We went to some night clubs. We went to Busch Gardens.

On the flight home, despite all of the fun I had, and the anger I had felt toward W for his childish behavior, I was still very anxious to get home to him. And then this song came up on my CD player, and although it was a song I had listened to a LOT, it was the first time I really HEARD it, and it was SO PERFECT. I remember the sky outside the plane window was dotted with clouds beneath us, and I remember the intensity of the sun way up there, and the lyrics were so spot on and it made me so happy. And I remembered how much I loved and appreciated that man, despite the jealousy issue. And it reminded me of how much light he had brought into my life. And I put that song on repeat and listened to it until we touched down at home, and I was soon to be back with him, and I was nearly me again.

And as cliche as it seems, I still believe he was and is my Destiny.

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...

Bye Bye my beloved Auntie R...say hi to my G-ma...

I just found out that my Auntie R passed away this morning.

Auntie R was really my GREAT Aunt, my dad's mom's twin sister. Being that my G-ma (her sister) passed away when I was like 12, which was close to 20 years ago, Auntie R has really been more like a grandma to my brother and I since then. It really was an easy transition; she looked more like my grandma than my grandma did at the end anyway, and she was just as sweet of an old lady as my grandma, and she loved us like grandkids anyway, not to mention we didn't have ANY of our grandparents left after her sister passed away, so why not. We did not see her a ton, but definitely felt a connection to her, and she to us...



This was Auntie R last summer with L at a family reunion (CORRECTION: I was not thinking when I wrote this...this photo was 2 summers ago). (Can you see the family resemblance? The pale and pasty color with the veins showing? Seriously, though, L and I definitely take after my dad's family, and in the larger version of this photo you CAN totally see a bit of family resemblance...) This was the last time I really got to spend any time with Auntie R with her mind completely intact. It was so great to see her, and for her to spend some time with my first born. L took to her right away, and I have an even sweeter photo of the two of them with him looking up into her eyes and she down into his.

The next time I saw Auntie R she was in a nursing home, and not doing so well. This was probably 6 months ago. She was still fairly mentally intact, but she seemed to really be withering away.

Last week, my mom called me and told me that Auntie R had been moved to the nursing home in our town, and that for her birthday (on Valentines Day) she wanted to have us all get together and go see Auntie R. ABSOLUTELY I was game...I had been thinking about her lately, and really was excited to go see her again.

I had this nagging feeling though, that instead of waiting until Valentines day, that we should go THAT weekend (which would have been last weekend). I didn't know why, just felt like we should.

Well, DAMMIT, I should have listened to my gut. Now I will be seeing her ONE LAST time in her casket at her wake. I am irritated right now. And sad. And feeling that regret of letting life get in the way of the really important things, and not spending enough time with someone when we have to chance.

UGH.

I know the last time I saw her though that I did impress upon her how much she meant to me in my life, and we shared a moment. It really kind of was a goodbye as at that time they didn't think she would make it much longer. So I guess I have that.

So, goodbye Auntie R. I really did love you and you really did mean a lot to me. Say hi to G-ma M for me, and G-Pa R, and keep an eye out for us from up there, k?

Love you.

Giving in...

Let me just say that giving in to pregnancy food cravings is even better than giving in to stoned food cravings...

Dude in my office gets a DQ daily special value meal EVERY DAY and EVERY DAY I sit in my office with my mouth watering to the smell of the greasy burger and french fries.

Today, I decided I just couldn't smell it without tasting it, and I just finished scarfing down the best greasy, cheesy fast food double cheeseburger and crunchy, delicious deep fried french fries I swear I have ever eaten. And while eating it, I seriously pondered over how that giving in was more fabulous than any meal I ever ate to fulfill a case of the 'munchies'...

*SIGH**

Now I just need a nap....

The dreams...ohh the dreams...

I have a love/hate relationship with the pregnancy dreams...

Alot of women report having especially vivid dreams during pregnancy, which is (for the most part) one of the nice side effects of pregnancy. I DO dream much more and much more vividly during pregnancy, and for the most part they are of the good variety, which is great.

Especially the sexual ones...hmmm...Seeing that at this point I have no energy left at the end of the day to do the deed, and yet still have some *desire* to do the deed, those sweet sex dreams fill the void ;0) Poor, poor W has to fend for himself on that front, hehehe...

But then there are the bad ones...the tame ones are usually dreams of parental inadequacies; leaving the baby in the car, forgetting them at home, etc etc. Those aren't so bad, but it's the not so tame ones that really make it a love/hate relationship...although they haven't been very numerous (at least for me, yet), they are so horrible that they weigh so much more heavily on the average than even the really good dreams.

The REALLY bad ones are about death and loss and are the kind that have you waking up to find that you have literally been SOBBING in your sleep. They leave you feeling sad and completely out of sorts, and not just for a few minutes...usually for the day, at least. Amazing that a series of thoughts, images and emotions created by our mind during sleep can have such an impact upon our waking lives...

So last night brought a very awesome happy dream and a fairly tame bad one...In the good dream I met up with a guy from my high school life that I haven't seen since HS that I think about and wonder about on occasion. Our relationship was...well, we were friends, but more than friends, but I have no delusions about the fact that it was definitely a little more one sided than a relationship should be...I 'loved' him, at least in my teenage mind, and we hung out alot, and he payed attention to me, and we were definitely friends, and we had sex (only once), and there are still some letters from him in my little (big) black box, but I knew then, and I know now, that he definitely used my feelings for him to his own benefit. It's okay though, it didn't leave lasting damage, and I still remember how nice it was when he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on top of the head...**SIGH**

So in my dream I ran into him, and it was FABULOUS...it was obviously supposed to be in the present, because I told him I had one child and am pregnant with another, and yet, all the details of where we were don't really match up with the here and now, but that seems to be a common occurrence in dreams...in mine anyway. He looked great; healthy and CLEAN, which, as much as I'd like to believe is true, I am not sure would be the case were I to ACTUALLY meet up with him now...I heard a while back from a mutual HS friend that he was having some issues with meth, which didn't surprise me in the least. In the dream, we caught up on each other's lives, but the best part was when he wrapped those arms around me, towering over me like he always did, and it was just like I remember it...**SIGH**

It was a great dream, and I am left with warm and fuzzy feelings from it. It was one of those dreams that played out much better in my imagination than I suspect it would in real life. I'm okay with that...I have thought a bit more about him today, which has made me feel good, with just a touch of melancholy mixed in...probably mostly just a bit of longing for those worry free days of teenage-dom.

The not so good dream was about the baby...In it I was having some cramping, and some spotting and was angry and scared that I was loosing the baby...I woke up to some ACTUAL in real life discomfort down there; not cramping really, but probably more just uterus growing discomfort. Pretty mild on the bad pregnancy dream scale. Today I have no pain and no spotting, and I am sure all is well with the little one inside me.

I hope that is as bad as the bad ones get...Maybe it was that it was balanced out by such a good dream in the same night, but it didn't leave me feeling icky today, which I am grateful for. I am hoping for none of those wake me in the night sobbing ones about loosing L or W...

An appointment...

I have an appointment at 3:30. I will be heading there soon. Things could go one way, the good way, or things could go the other way, the not so good but not the end of the world way, and then my plans for tonite could be drastically different and I could be flashing back to March 8th, 2006.

Here's hoping that things go the good way, and that all is well and right in my world after my appointment, and that my plans of attending my friend S's 10th Anniversary Girl's Holiday Party are realized and no flashbacks need occur...

All of this will make sense soon, I promise. Just trust me and put the good vibes out there my few trusty readers.

Thanks :0)

Fun facts

I am still feeling all out-of-sorts from finding out about my friend relapsing as well as a more recent development in my life (which I will blog about in the near future) and so my brain is really having a hard time wrapping itself around any type of meaningful blog-able fodder. I have been wanting to do one of these fun fact lists for awhile, so I guess now is as good a time as ever.

1) I am a cat person. I have two, and before L came along, they were my babies.

2) I played the violin for 8 years, still have my violin, and can still squeak off some pleasing notes and read music.

3) My dad's nickname for me growing up was Squirt.

4) I have one brother who is 18 mos older than me whom I love SO SO MUCH. We've been through a lot together, to say the least.

5) When we were growing up, we had a sort of hobby farm...at one time we had 18 outside cats, most of which got killed on the road, but we always had some running around...We also had at some point or another: 4 cows (they got shipped off and butchered and we ate them), chickens (don't know how many, just know it was multiple), whose eggs we collected and ate, bunny I, II, II and probably IV, 2 pigs, a lamb, Mikey, who thought he was a dog, who would scratch on the screen door thinking we would let him in the house like the dogs, a goat (who head-butted me in the ass one time) and dogs...There was Penny and Buffy when I was little, then Buffy had to be put down, then we got Katie, so it was Penny and Katie, then Penny had to go down so we got Amber and it was Amber and Katie when I moved out of my parents house. Both Amber and Katie have now since passed.

6) We also had gerbils for awhile, and they had babies, and I used to have nightmares that those nasty, hairless little babies got loose in the house and it FREAKED.ME.OUT and I wanted to drown the little nasty bastards. I sometimes still have nightmares about hairless rodents infesting my house.

7) I took Spanish for a few years in HS. I still know it fairly well.

8) Before I knew what pot REALLY looked like, we smoked these hollow reeds that we found up our backroad in the woods that we THOUGHT were pot (WTF?!! That was obviously before the whole D.A.R.E. campaign cuz they totally showed us what pot looked like, but by THEN we had figured out our error and already knew what it looked like). They were the harshest thing in the world, and I am sure we thought the headache we got from coughing so hard was from being high. We thought we were so cool. HA!

9) I smoked pot (the real stuff, not weird reeds I found in the woods!) pretty much daily from the time I was 15 until sometime in my early 20's. I still enjoy it on rare occasions, which is MUCH more enjoyable than smoking it every day!

10) I think that if anything should be illegal, it should be alcohol, not marijuana.

11) When I was probably 10 we started stealing my moms cigarette butts and smoking them. One time, my brother and I and a neighbor kid were smoking in the attic of my dad's garage, and my brother left matches on the insulation up there, and my dad found it and ROYALLY chewed our asses and grounded us. For awhile.

12) I have tried LOTS of drugs at least once, but have never done Heroin or PCP.

13) I love to read. That is something I really miss from before L; having the opportunity to just lay on the couch all day on a Sunday, from morning until night, reading. Not doing anything all day except reading.

14) I love Stephen King, and own the majority of his books, and will be sad when he dies and can no longer write books for me to read.

15) I love photography. I hope to continue to practice it as a hobby, with the dream of it being more someday. I think I have a knack for taking good pictures.

16) I have a big mouth, and sometimes I really hate it. Sometimes, things come out that I wish I hadn't said.

17) I have a need to be a part of everything; like at work, we are a small office, and sometimes I can't keep my nose out of whatever is going on, even if it has nothing to do with me. Or like the time in 3rd grade when we had a sub, and someone came into the classroom and asked the sub if so-and-so was there, and I blurted out "NO!" and so-and-so actually WAS there, and the teacher scolded me, and I was SO embarrased. I hate that memory.

18) I really really thought L was a girl the whole time I was pregnant with him. When the Dr. pulled him out and said "It's a boy!" I was shocked and said "It's a boy? Really?" after which I was immediately happy to have a healthy boy. Now, I am glad I had a boy first...there is just something special about mama's little boy!

19) I really want to have a girl next time. Since we think we will stop at 2, I really want to be able to experience raising both.

20) When I was pregnant with L, I was REALLY concerned that my drug use would come back to haunt me in the form of a deformed or disabled child. (NO NO NO, I did not use drugs while pregnant, I meant my high school / early 20's drug use!)

21) In some ways I am more like my mom than I like to admit or acknowledge(see #16 and #17).

22) I have a tendency to be OCD about things. My dishes have a black stripe along one side adn they all have to be lined up and facing the same direction in the cupboard. Clothing and towels must be folded a certain way. Clothing hung on hangers must face a certain direction. I count my steps a lot.

23) I need to be in charge of things. I have control issues. I like to have a plan, and when things don't go according to plan, I don't like it and it throws me out of whack. I hate that about myself.

24) On that same line, I am not good with change what.so.ever. Not even good change. I also hate this about myself.

25) My friend Lynda, whom I have been trying to blog about, was a total free spirit, lived completely in the now, went with the flow. I think that is why I was so attracted to her; she was completely and thouroughly, down to her core, what I could never truly be. I reveled in her free-ness, I basked in the sunlight that was her soul.

26) I *really* loved her. I loved her so deeply that it went beyond any bounds and is different than any love I have felt for any other woman in my life.

27) I miss her.

28) I used to have a re-curring nightmare about a bear chasing me up my driveway, and I would stab it in the shoulder with a nail (WTF?!).

29) I have only broken one bone in my life; my thumb during a softball tournament when I was like 20. I have only had 4 stitches in my life, when I was probably 12, in my knee. I have only had two surgeries; I had a tonsillectomy when I was 26, just before my wedding, and emergency laproscopic surgery when I was 27 to remove an ectopic pregnancy.

I will stop there...29 facts, one for all 29 years of my life. I only get to be 29 for about 7 more weeks, so that seems like a good number.

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.

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.

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.