Daddy's Girl

You'd be 58 this year. In five short days it will be your birthday. Most have forgotten. But me? Oh no. I'll never forget the day you died but I choose to remember the day you lived. You were a fighter. So strong. So very very strong... and it's crazy, ya know? Years down the road and it's like I just miss you more. You were my rock. My protector. My strength. And no matter how bad it got physically your spirit stayed alive. I miss you so much...I miss you daddy... and I'll sing your songs, hear your voice in the wind. I've forgotten your voice...I can't hear it anymore. And that breaks my heart. And your face... I'm so scared I'll forget. There aren't any pictures. None from when I knew you anyways. None that I can see. They told me you would die. They tried to prepare me. But nobody ever told me part of me would die with you. And I'm trying. So hard. Every day. But I'm still falling apart...I wish you were here daddy...I miss you...

Meh.

Let me just tell you guys that my head and heart are just so beyond fucked up right now. I'm not even sure I'm capable of writing it all out and that's unusual for me. I just can't deal. I'm almost numb really.

Musings of impromptu adventure

Some days you have had enough and everything is just too much. So I walked. Right out that door without a word. Found myself in a park. Literally and figuratively. And I knew he was cooking. I knew the kids were going crazy. I knew the baby was about up be hungry. Yet still, I walked. I couldn't take anymore. So I sat there. I watched the sun kiss the earth. I laid back watching the clouds waltz with each other. I had a young man stop and ask me if I was alright. I looked up to see a face I used to know. Then we stopped and talked a while. I told him of my children. My home. My life. And just like old times he shared his. A wife and kids waiting at home. He talked of her laughter and how it filled his heart. Their bedtime routines most nights. The way the kids ran to say hello when he walked through the door. And in this conversation I asked him why he wasn't there. He said "you see, I work a lot and it causes some stress. So before I go home to them I come here. I shoot some ball to clear my head. It eases the tension. Then when I get home I can just be there". I replied saying it's like having two jobs, but there he corrected me once more. Saying being home was the greatest feeling but they deserved his whole attention and heart. Playing ball wasn't for his sake but theirs. He went home feeling refreshed instead of stressed. That way he could play with the kids while his wife made dinner or even make dinner himself. He could help with chores without getting overwhelmed, he could read stories and at night when the kids were in bed he could hang out with his wife without being too tired. I asked what kind of things they did and he told me of watching the sun set and talking, or sitting in silence just enjoying one another. Sometimes they would watch shows and sometimes they just teamed up to get the housework done. But whatever it was, they did it together. And when his back hurt or hers they would care for each other. He paid attention to the circles under her eyes when she was struggling or the small tilt of the corner of her mouth when she was playful and the way she took such care with everything she did. She noticed when work had overwhelmed him, or if he needed some extra time to recover. He appreciated her and she him. And often it was hard but they helped one another get through the good and the bad. I asked him why he did the things he did for her. He described to me a love like no other. His love for her. Said it made him not only want to be better, but to also strive for better. To show his kids real love. To raise them with all his heart. To cherish her forever. Actions behind words. So I sat there and I wondered. I watched the sky kiss the earth goodnight. I went home to my own and felt joy as my children ran to greet me. Yes, sometimes you just can't take anymore. Buy some days you're reminded what you're living for. I may not have those things he does, but I have three small children that are my world. I may not have someone taking care of me but I realize now I have to take care of me for their sake. So no more waiting or moaning or groaning. It's time to start living again, with or without that something more.

A beer for momma.

Why do you like going to the bar?

Such a simple question. Could be blown off with a simple answer. Usually "because being an adult means alcohol is a reward". But here is the truth of the matter:

Because I'm the responsible one. I'm the one that cooks. I'm the one that cleans 95% of the time. I'm the one that knows what bills are due, when they're due and how to pay them. I know that the sponge on the dish wand has approximately one week left before it falls apart. I know how much a new one costs and exactly what aisle to go get one from. I know when the animals ate last. How much food they have. When we'll need more. I know the places in the house where the dirty hides and I'm the one that uncovers it instead of just pretending it isn't there. I'm the one that could tell you precisely what drawer the potatoes are in or what hook the can opener is on. I know the kids. When they ate, when they slept, if their nose is runny or their hearts hurt. I know their dreams, and it's my job to help them get there. I know their quirks, their habits and I'm constantly trying to teach them better. I know my husbands moods. Whether he's happy or frustrated or angry. Though I'm still learning when is the right time to actually communicate with him. I know exactly how long it will take me to catch up on laundry. And how high is too high before the grass is full of bugs. I know what time the mail runs. And in my head is stored schedules for events, birthdays, appointments, when school starts, what is needed before, familial obligations and that one friend who's felt neglected recently. Day in. Day out. I'm the responsible one. I know precisely what is in the diaper bag and what is needed. How soon we'll run out of diapers or wipes. How long that can of formula will last and how to soothe a grumpy newborn. I know exactly how long until the two year old needs a nap or has a melt down. I know that whiny lilt means the six year old didn't get enough sleep or that he's having a bad day (and which one). I practice being the balance between my sons need for control and my husbands temper. I try my hardest to teach all of the kids through example and not just words thrown at them. I've trained my body to only need a few hours sleep because that's all it will get anyways. But I also know that in the event I don't sleep, which happens often, I will still function tomorrow. Because I'm the responsible one. I don't get to sleep in. I don't get to run away for a few hours. I don't get to sit around and be lazy because I'm tired or sick or in a bad mood. No. Because I'm the responsible one. And when I do say screw it and do those things I have twice as much to do later. I know what time to make dinner before the whole house gets grumpy. And I'm in charge of making sure their diet is balanced. I know where everything is and have become a master at finding lost items. I make the house functional and organized. I keep our lives running as smoothly as possible. I try to bite my tongue when angry. I do my best to put others first. I go without so the family has more. I make a lot of sacrifices to make sure others don't have to. I understand my husbands need to escape, and my six year olds need for an emotional outlet, and that the two year old wants to learn and loves to play, and that the newborn just wants to be held. And I do my best to ensure every single one of them gets what they want and need. I'm constantly thinking and doing whatever I can for them. I barely have a social life. I have little to no free time, and what little I do is usually given to others. I've given up writing and art to spend more time with them. I've given up hope of school for financial security. I've turned down adventure for stability. Not my own, but others. I take others into account before I ever wonder about myself. I give them everything. I have slowly molded myself into everything this family needs (though it's still a work in progress). You see, even when I myself am completely a mess, I can't just stop being responsible. So why do I go to the bar? Because sometimes it's too much. Sometimes I want to be the one that gets to run outside or throw my dishes in the sink and not have to wash them later. Sometimes I want to go to bed and sleep in. Sometimes I get the urge to run away. Sometimes, I don't want to be me anymore. Every now and then it's nice to remember the woman I used to be. The one that laughed freely and sang and wasn't JUST the responsible one. The one that ran barefoot through forests and laid on the couch drawing in her underwear. The one that could handle all of the responsibility yet somehow still have the freedom to be herself. The one that didn't have to watch her every move to avoid an argument. The one that could dance in the living room without feeling self conscious. The woman that felt loved, even if she was the only one that loved herself. The one that didn't shut down pieces of herself to make others happy. The one that didn't depend on anyone for her happiness like so many depend on her. Because every now and then it's worth the double work load later just to have a few hours to feel free. Because I've realized that no mater how much I give to others, the same won't be done for me. Because I'm the responsible one but sometimes I don't want to be. So every now and then, I go to the bar. No responsibility. No stress. Just me. Remembering.

Who Am I?

I wanna walk through a park. Or go swimming and not be self conscious. I wanna run through fields at sundown and then lay out on a blanket looking up at the stars. I wanna dance in the rain. Sing as I clean. Or dance as I paint. And get messy. The good kind where my hair is everywhere and there different art substances all over me and I just don't care. I wanna sleep. One full night without a single nightmare. And play board games with the kids. And laugh. I need more laughter. I wanna feel the magic of the universe. Breathe in the air, watch the grass dance with the wind. I used to do these things. I used to be happy. But I don't know how to be happy anymore. I don't even know who I am anymore. My very soul is restless. Do you even care? I feel like the invisible woman. People don't even see me. They see a smiling or determined face behind the laundry, dinner, dishes, snotty noses, bottles, burps, etc etc. I'm back to looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger. When's the last time I brushed my hair or took a relaxing shower? Without any stress. That's really what I'm getting at here. When's the last time I felt pretty or wanted by more than sticky hands and Lego towers? When's the last time I laughed? Truly laughed? The kind that makes your belly hurt. And a deep adult conversation. Do those still exist? Because I'm having doubts over here. What happened to me? And why don't you see me anymore? Any of you! Is it really ssoeasy to believe I've got all my shit together or is it just easier for you to pretend? Does nobody really see what's happening here? Open your eyes people. I'm overboard. I'm drowning. And you're all staring down like I'm not desperate for someone, ANYONE, to help pull me out of the water. I just need a hand. That's all. But I guess not just any hand. Really only yours will do. Bad thing is, you don't understand.  You say you just want to feel needed. But here I am needing you and you don't even see me anymore... And for the love of all that is mercy don't say "we can do those things!" because we both know it isn't true. Words spark hope but at the end of the day I'm still down here, overboard, drowning in my own tears. No hand to help pull me through. Yet everyone wonders why I'm always so angry.

Oh man...

Where do I start? I guess from the beginning. This is gonna take some time, but surprisingly I think I'm ready. So...here goes?

I'm gonna start at 17. I battled depression and self loathing for some time before, but this is when things truly started to turn around. By turn around I mean I was up shit creek without a paddle and a lot of lessons to learn, but my destiny was finally in my own hands. I'm gonna be 100% open here so you may wanna rethink reading through. 17 years old. Moved out of my parents. In with my brother. I partied like no other. Be still my broken heart, my best friend Jew-fro was still there (please don't be offended by that nickname. Kid isn't even Jewish he just had stereotypical hair) He faced his own battles but loved me so much he stuck around for mine. The truth about friends zones? They were created to keep saviors at bay when we women don't feel worthy of ourselves. The truth about knights in shining armor? They're bleeding hearts looking to save the world they see behind the eyes of a broken girl. Anywho, already I digress. 17 I took a turn for the worst. Parties every night, terrible decisions, promiscuity. I've told you all this part before. I let men use me in ways I shouldn't have. But if I had a warm body next to me I wasn't alone on the bathroom floor. I didn't have to face myself in the mirror. All that hurt and anger from years of abuse, neglect and tears. I drowned it out with alcohol and faces I can't remember. Oddly, the names are still there. I knew it was a bad road. Jew-fro tried to save me over and over. I wasn't ready. Boo tried too and then distanced herself because she couldn't handle it anymore. I don't blame her. She was doing what she needed to make sure she stayed healthy. If only I had been so wise as a teenager. She doesn't know it to this day but her parting words snapped me back to reality. She said you're gonna end up dead in a gutter. Nobody will even know who you are anymore. Ouchies. But she was right. And so I turned my attention elsewhere. Introducing (drum roll please) my ex-husband. The first thing I noticed was his laugh. The second was his incessant chatter. Now, here was a safe distraction from that pesky mirror. But it wasn't safe. I fell in love with the brokenness behind his eyes. And of course, I've shared the rest. Thought maybe if I could save him I had a chance at saving myself. Turned into a selfish perfectionist that wasn't happy with anything. He wasn't ready either. We imploded on each other. His parting words stuck too. "You never loved me for me, you loved me for the man you thought I could be." Ouchies. But he was right. Of course, now we consider each other friends for our kiddo. And we learned a lot of lessons from each other. But I've noticed his laugh isn't quite so entrancing and that chatter becomes a dull roar quickly. I don't want to lose myself in anyone. Not now, not ever. The very things that first attracted me to him now grate my nerves. Not his fault, so I bite my tongue these days. During that time I also met No. Great unrequited love that we all must have at least once in this lifetime. His demons drowned out my own. Flames so fierce it would set your heart afire. And it did. But loving him meant seeing a reflection of me I wasn't ready for. After that was the greatest mistake of my life. As Ollivander Wood once said "great things — terrible, yes, but great." So, in the essence of that quote Country Boy has been renamed Voldemort. Fitting. Quite so. I lost myself in his wild abandon. His recklessness. And I saw the signs, the red flags, but I didn't care. I let him control me. Of course at first it didn't seem that way. But deep down I knew. And there began my journey. Self healing. Growth. My first blog. Took me quite a while to get there. I started it when I began sleeping on the couch. I knew something wasn't right. Inside of me was something waking up that I had thought long buried. My hopes. My dreams. My heart. In its purest form. Aching and bruised, beaten to a pulp over the years. Not just by others. By my own decisions and neglect too. I had to get out. I had to shelter her. Nurture her. Let her grow. She was ready. She came out of nowhere and in the blink of an eye everything changed. She couldn't be controlled. Couldn't handle being manipulated anymore. At the time I had no idea the reasons, I just knew I needed out of there. But something more came with her. A price I had to pay. In awakening my hopes and dreams my demons sprang from the shallow graves where they were buried. In awakening my demons who should come about other than the very No my demons used to play with. And I still wasn't ready. But the journey had begun. There was no turning back now. So I left that controlling relationship but I was still bound there. Had nowhere to go. And I let my demons out to play, further damaging my already fragile heart. In the end I shattered. No disappeared as I knew he would (thanks for that, seriously) and Voldemort broke when he realized he had lost control. I wound up on my ex-husband's floor completely broken and waiting for none other than my mother. Woman I had sworn I would never depend on. Swore I'd never let in. I knew my demons all too well and where she was concerned I had always hid behind anger. But that night I was too broken to care. And as mothers do she set aside her own broken heart to rescue her daughter. Unconditional love. Something I had never understood, but that night I began to. Step two. Or three. Or four. Or whatever. I still couldn't face the stranger in the mirror. Full of grief and despair I quickly lost the hope I had just so recently found. I locked myself away from the world. But, then, a miracle. I was numb for a bit but then I started to feel. Real feelings too. There was grief, there was despair, but there was also a budding recognition. I was free. I was safe. For the first time in my life, locked away in that tiny apartment with just my son and mother, I was safe. They didn't judge me for the tears. They didn't ask questions when I acted crazy. They were just there. Called me out on my bullshit, for sure. Yet still they were there. Waiting for me to get better. Holding me accountable while loving me still And in the midst of it all her and I even began to grow closer. We had to hash out a few things first, but I had a new understanding. She made mistakes but she never stopped loving me. She tried. She loved me as her daughter even when she couldn't love herself. I knew that struggle. And for the first time ever, she gave me hope. If she could make it through the horrors of our past so could I. For a while I lost myself in that safety too. I needed it. I needed that shield from the world. And honestly I probably could have stayed there forever. I worked on projects to give myself a sense of purpose. I painted and sang and began to enjoy life from the safety of my little hideaway. Boo came back. She's always been so wise beyond her years. Told me I couldn't lock myself away forever. She literally dragged me out of the house. The sunshine hit my face and Holy Hell it felt wonderful. So maybe I could do this. Maybe I could reenter the world and still work on getting better. I was terrified. But I knew I had to start somewhere. I dated a crazy man. Recovering addict that wasn't so recovered and full of anger. I dated Bread. I actually really liked him, poor thing. He was a sweetheart but way too immature and part of me knew that. The fixer in me, at it again. His priorities were all kinds of screwed and no matter how much I adored him we were walking two completely different paths. I was searching for myself in all these people when deep down I think I always knew it wouldn't work. A few steps back, but still a momentum to move forward. With each failure was a lesson learned rather than a reason to hate myself more. That was huge. I found a new job. I created tentative friendships that would end up playing a part in the bigger picture (didn't know it at the time though). And then one day on the way home I rediscovered a hidden treasure. Bernheim Forest. I spent hours walking the trails, exploring, soul searching. To this day I feel like there are little bits of me spread all through there. I grow with the forest. It is still my favorite place I've visited on this earth. I started to feel better. I took up singing again, invested time in myself, became closer with my kiddo. Throughout all the mistakes I somehow managed to keep growinh. With each failed endeavour I learned something more. It was a new outlook. A new perspective. I was no longer this broken girl, I had hope and a future. In the midst of my self growth high I thought I was ready for another relationship. I don't even know what to call him anymore. So we're just not gonna say. Oh, but buddy, was I wrong. He was fake from the start. My life had taken on this fairytale sheen with all the happy feelings that come from growth but not accepting the full picture. And he played that to his full advantage. You all know the story. Or maybe you don't but I'm definitely not getting into it here. He played me for the fool I was. But even then I was blessed to a degree. My baby boy is still a joy, even if loving him means dealing with his father. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. When the fairytale good vibes fell apart I hit an all time low. I lost sight of my journey because of fear and anger. I went back to Voldemort. Oh, what a nightmare. It didn't take me long to realize the mistake I had made. He was even more controlling, more manipulative. He had lost control once and he was determined not to lose it again so he continuously tightened his grip. Except this time I saw it for what it was. Took me a minute, but throughout this journey I had slowly started to see myself in the mirror. I rallied those tentative friendships around me that had shown themselves to be true. And finally I broke free. Never again, I said. Never again. It was the final straw. I took off the rose colored glasses and saw the world. I saw myself and the mess I had made of my life. The mess I was turning into again. But, wait, there's more. I drug a poor kid into my self destruction. I knew he was no match for my demons. He was too young, too whole. And of course he tried to save me. He tried to hold on for dear life through this life of mine that was more like a roller coaster. I saw it though. I will always feel bad for hurting him, but I knew we would never work and I wasn't willing to continue going down that road. And that's when I knew. Over the course of the next few weeks I spent a lot of time by myself and surrounded by friends that weren't afraid to make me look in the mirror. I was open and honest for once. I was able to breath. No more hiding. No more hating myself. I finally began to accept myself for who I was, what I had been through and the decisions I had made thus far. I bared my soul for the world, knowing that at times it would hurt. But also knowing that if I couldn't deal with the occasional hurt I would forever suffer. I'll take a little pain (though at times its felt unbearable) for those moments of true happiness just around the corner. I still struggle a lot. I get lost or backtrack. I start to ignore the mirror. I get depressed, though not near as much as I used to. There are good days and bad. But now I know myself better. I know what to look for and I've learned enough through my experiences to most times at least be alright. I'm proud of my progress. It took a whole frickin lot to get here. It takes a lot to stay here and continue to learn. But every day I grow. I can look in the mirror. I see myself and I don't hate the reflection. My perspective has changed these past few years. It's no longer self hate or hiding in fear. It's understanding that there will be good and there will be bad. It's acknowledging my mistakes, learning from them and trudging forward. It's falling down but being open enough to let others help me back up (when needed). It's not being afraid of the hurt or letting others down or being too afraid of someone else walking away. It's accepting that we're all on our own journeys, being there to help others on theirs but being strong enough to step back and say no if it starts to pull me off mine. I am the owner of my happiness. I create it in my heart. And when I get down that's what I have to remember. I'm lucky enough to have people around I can ask for that reminder. It took a lot of hurt and lessons learned to figure out who they are. It isn't about being strong. It's about balance. Being open to being vulnerable, because that's how we learn from others. Being open to possible hurt or disappointment, because if the door is closed love can't get in either. Being open and honest even when it's hard, because if not you'll die a thousand deaths from unspoken words. Being open and accepting towards others emotions, because they're on their own journey too and it's not always what's happening on the surface that matters. That one is my biggest struggles these days. I see others emotions and I've studied so much and worked so hard I can usually see where those emotions are coming from (not always, and I'm not afraid to admit that I'm sometimes wrong) but it makes me want to fix their hurt. I can't though. I'll just join them in their misery. Just like nobody could save me until I was ready to save myself. It's a battle we each have to fight for ourselves. All we can do is be there for each other. Openly, honestly, and without trying to force change for someone else's journey. And that last sentence I think it's why I was Inwood to right this. I needed to remember those words...another lesson learned (or re-learned; )

Today

In the past half hour I've wasted about 9% of my battery prolonging actually beginning this. Today though, I chatted with someone I knew long ago and not only was I greatly blessed -I was also rather enlightened and inspired. You see, normally a day like today would have completely drained me. It would have left me feeling inadequate, overwhelmed, and probably more than slightly crazed. But not today. I don't know if it is indeed the solar eclipse, or maybe it was just God's way of answering prayers. Or maybe both of those are one in the same. Regardless, the effect has been greatly felt. For today I know the effect I have on others and I am inspired to let that bring out the true me. The me that often hides behind worry, fear, and a feeling of inadequacy. The me that often smiles without the light touching my eyes. Today was chaos in its purest form. The baby didn't sleep last night, which means neither did I. No nap, 7 months pregnant, chasing an 18 month old and trying to accomplish several tasks all in one day. But you know what? Recently I haven't laughed more, felt more, had my heart so overflowing as I did today. I felt more like myself than ever. I've forgotten so much how much I absolutely adore being home with my babies. And the dirty dishes are still in the sink from dinner, the laundry has reached an alarming amount, the toys are still scattered about the living room floor. Our rooms are messes, my bathroom sink is dirty. The wardrobe was not indeed moved upstairs. But you know what? I don't care. And days like today are absolutely beautiful. Most of you know that having bipolar 2 and an odd form of OCD are part of my every day life. On top of being mother, wife, and jack-of-all-trades. Even earlier I was talking to my sister and asked "was there always this much to do? How did I do it all AND work?!" I thought for a moment I had lost my superwoman mojo. But I didn't. I regained it. My house is a wreck and I'm still happy. Still overflowing with joy. To me this is one of the biggest triumphs, a true reason to rejoice. Today, and maybe not tomorrow but definitely today, I have overcome. I have touched hearts and allowed mine to be open to being touched by others. I have not melted down into a cesspool of despair. I am not crawling all over because there is a speck of dirt. No, today I am wholly myself and full of love and victory. I laughed with my children. Danced in the living room. Kicked that giant red bouncy ball a thousand and one times. Sang silly songs. Taught life lessons (or at least tried to). Reconnected with people that seem from another lifetime that I didn't even realized I missed until they reached out. Today I lived. I played in the sunshine, encouraged exploring the unknown, soaked up the proud moments of learning a new "trick" on the bike that still has training wheels (this is apparently a huge thing to a kindergartener). I've listened to babbling stories, and even just incoherent babbling with the greatest of attention. Still managed to cook dinner while dancing over the toys scattered over the kitchen floor. I have embraced every moment of the chaos. I have kissed my husband in the few moments we could spare, longed for his embrace with an essence exhaustion often times places on the back burner. I have craved him as my friend and the amazing man he is. I have admired as he came home from a long day at work to immediately and JOYFULLY jump into the chaos running rampant through our home. And I have never been more proud. I have never been more full of love. For the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm preoccupied, or the joy across my children's faces at spending so much time with me, for the minor victories of the day that are actually quite great. I'm full of it all. And I feel great. Exhausted, yes I am. But feeling great never the less. And I am praying I can continue to dine through tomorrow. Maybe even the day after. The stress is still there, the fears and worries. Yet somehow today love has overpowered the fog that rolls in with them and allowed me to feel joy. This is the universes magic. This is what we call a miracle.