Ugh...

I knew that it would happen eventually. I just didn't realize it would be so soon. It happened today though. We were driving back from my little sisters driving test and there you were. My first reaction was shock, followed by fear and then quickly overrun by anger. Boiling in me like the rage you deserve. Riding along on your bike with its sorry ass windgaurd, as if you deserve to be alive. As if your freedom doesn't put oh so many at risk. I hate everything you are. I hate looking in the mirror and seeing your face. Everyone tells me I'm so beautiful, so how did I come from something so hideous? You have no heart. You have no morals. You have nothing. You are nothing. Nothing but a monster in human form. If I believed in demons on earth you'd be first grade. Piece. Of. Shit. But then it wasn't you. Here I was having homicidal thoughts about some poor guy that just happened to be on a bike like yours. The rage receded. I took a breath. Yet still I fought the tears. How could you do this to us? Strike fear in the hearts of those you're supposed to love. Those you're supposed to nurture. All you ever did was create nightmares. Hell, the worst of what you did wasn't even to me. I don't know if I'm afraid of you or of myself when the day comes to face you. I preach forgiveness, a life of the higher ground. I am above your petty actions. Still, I don't know if I could ever forgive. I try my hardest. But every time I hear your name or it crosses my mind there's bile that rises in my throat. Burning like the anger rolls. I pray that day never comes. I want nothing to do with you. Ever. My children will never know your name. But my sisters? They'll deal with the Hell you created for them the rest of their lives. How? Why? I wish they'd let you rot.

Memorial Day

It's coming round again... I miss you so much it hurts. Especially this year. We're going to have a cookout. The first one since you passed away... It hurts to know my boys will never know your silly songs. Will never know your face retelling how you saved me from the snakes on that last memorial day you could walk. William will never know the man who shared his name. I couldn't fully give him your name, for reasons we should all be aware of by now. But my heart still smiles to know he's got a part of you to carry with him forever. You'd love him to pieces. Anakin would join in your silly songs. I've contemplated teaching him them just to hear someone walking around the house singing them again. Or your laughter, how rare but how musical filling our home when you found something funny. I've thought of taking a day to see you over the weekend. Making a trip of it with my love. Oh, how you would have enjoyed knowing him...I miss you daddy. I hope you look down and smile Monday. I hope you know we've never forgotten you. And I pray every day that you would be proud of me and the woman I'm becoming. It's been ten years but it hurts like it was yesterday...

Because sometimes I just wanna say f*ck being a mom

Let me just upchuck these words like the bile rising in my throat..
When did this get so hard? Let's be an idiot and go bathing suit shopping like we're gonna find one that's cute and doesn't scream "I'm a mom". Except the only ones I like are one pieces and they have some cute ones but I don't have $40 for that. So instead let's piece together old bathing suits that don't fit anymore because motherhood changes EVERYTHING. I shouldn't be biting back tears. I'm proud of my stretch marks, I'm proud of my extra pounds. I've spent eight months convincing myself that I'm okay with this. That it doesn't matter that my boobs aren't as perky as they used to be. Hell, they're smaller than they've ever been and there wasn't much to begin. But I've spent months working myself up for this. Knowing I should be proud of my body and the things it's created. Yet I'm not. I want my youth back. I don't want my thighs to dimple when I shift my weight. I don't want to put on an xl bottom when I've only ever worn mediums, sometimes large. I don't like the dip in my hips creating a muffin top esque appearance regardless of the size of bottoms I put on. I want my strength back. My endurance. My cardio. I find it finitely baffling that after child two I've returned to the struggle of one again morning the woman I used to be. But it's all changed. Everything. Even my own personal style has changed. Fitted, not tight. Cute yet classy. Alluring but conservative. Can I just go back to the fifties already? Give me a one piece and let me rock that shit sexy or give me back my old body... what happened to the days of running with reckless abandon in a poor excuse for coverage and not giving a shit? Still feeling sexy? Why do I feel like I'm grieving the loss of what my body used to be? Why do I feel as if I've lost my youth? My appeal? How can I look at a picture of my own body less than two years ago and barely recognize myself.  How can others not recognize it as me at all? Sure, I've got a nice ass by others accounts. Truth be told I don't think it's all that great and I get sick of hearing about it. My pride and joy used to be my legs. Long enough but not too long. Toned, strong. Lean. My torso with my ever perky boobs and smooth abdomen. Now there's like this permanent pooch and I have no idea when my boobs started looking like they've been engorged with milk a time or two. (Twice. Foreal.) I should love this motherly body of mine. But I'm not ready to feel so old. My face forever appears younger than my age, but the rest of my body? Shows in ways only clothes can mask. And that's precisely what I do day in and day out. Give a woman the right clothes and she can conquer the world. Put her in a bathing suit and apparently all façades of confidence shatter...

Fight or flight

I had another flashback last night. It's been so long and I was so unprepared. It hit like a ton of bricks. The fear and then shock and now that voice won't stop. That inky feeling is back. The one that makes my skin crawl and no amount of showers will wash it away. And so badly I needed someone here. To remind me that this is reality and the rest is just some distant memory. But that comfort won't come and I keep finding myself unable to hold back the tears. I try to speak and it's like my throat closes it on itself. "Don't make a sound Sarah" "let down your pretty hair for me Sarah" "do as I say Sarah and there will be no more scars". But there are scars. On my body. In my mind. On my heart. I can feel his hand on my throat, shutting off the ability to scream. Feel every touch like a burn seared into my memory. And I just want it to stop. I wanted him to stop and he never would. I want the voices to stop and they're overwhelming. I'm crying out and begging for mercy. For someone with a loving touch to hold me. For someone to remind me how to breathe rather than drowning in these memories. But that help won't come. Nobody will ever understand these needs. People only think of their own. And this lesson I should have learned so long ago. When it comes down to it this is my burden to bear and how stupid and naive was I to believe that maybe someday someone would be there. How child-like to believe someone could see the pain and misery behind the silence and tears in my eyes. They didn't back then, why would anyone now? So I'll force myself to breathe past the memories suffocating me. I'll force it down like the bile it is. And I know it's poison running through my veins. And maybe someday I'll find the cure.

Why I don't like Mother's Day

This...
"Oh, you're working on Mother's Day? That's so shitty. It's supposed to be a day about you, a day for you."

No. Just no. I don't want flowers or presents or any of that. I don't want a day "about me". That's not how you can show true appreciation for everything a mother does. You know what I want? I want to come home to a house that's clean.  Legitimately clean. With things on the to do list finished. I want a delicious melt in your mouth dinner prepared without having to do a thing. I want a movie cuddled up as a family in the living room. I want a bubble bath, complete with candles and a glass of wine. Norah Jones sultry tone playing through the speakers. I want to be seen as a woman and not just a mother. But you know what? I've got all of that. Maybe not every day, certainly a day doesn't go by without one of the children throwing a tantrum or something going wrong. But I don't care. I've got a little boy that gives me random kisses and tells me he loves me. He thanks me for dinner every night, says his prayers and tries his hardest to be the best little big man around. I've got a baby that hugs me and let's me cuddle him to sleep just about every night. I've got two kids that make me laugh, make me cry and show me every day that every moment with them is a piece of Heaven sent to earth. It's a blessing. Motherhood is a gift from God and I don't need appreciation for the blessings he's given me. I've got a man that sees when I'm overwhelmed and does everything he can to help. That shows me appreciation for raising two kids and doing all I can for our family but that also reminds me I'm a woman. He makes me feel like a goddess even with my stretch marks and bad attitude days. We're a team, a family that works together. And that's so much better than flowers once a year. That's everything. All day. Every day. No, I don't want Mother's Day. I don't care a thing about it other than making it special for my mother. I just want the every day. I live an extremely blessed life and I don't need some special day out of the year because every day is special to me.

I need...

A day to journey
A moment to breathe
The wind through my hair
The ground beneath my feet
A dress that flows when I walk
And a skip in my step
I need to recover
To restore
To retreat into me

This world is so overwhelming, and I may seem strong but inside I'm breaking. I need understanding. A hand to hold. Don't demand of me, but be there for me. And actually be there. For words sound so sweet but they turn so bitter when actions compete. I may make choices with which you don't agree. Don't snap. Don't be angry. Just take a moment and try to understand. For when you listen and watch from a place of understanding instead of retaliation the world becomes so much clearer. I miss the beauty of the wind dancing with the leaves... And oh how I long to dance freely. To wrap myself in the warmth of the love from this universe. This works is so beautiful and it's been so long adobe I've stopped to enjoy its beauty. The stars don't shine quite so bright hear and the music of the earth has turned to cats driving by and shouts throughout the night. Would you come away with me? Stand back patiently or run with me? Not running away. But running into the arms of earth herself. Would you breathe deeply with me as I take it all in? As I soak in the magick of this earth and restore my heart? If not I ask that you grant me the time to do so myself, for I so deeply need to breathe. To meditate and journey. Perhaps somewhere new, perhaps somewhere treasured. I need time with my thoughts, and moments to stand in the breeze. I need to run through creek beds and splash in the water as a child. I need to return the light to my eyes and the blush to my cheeks. The life to my very essence, for it has been so drained recently. My heart is hurting, my head is spinning. The wheels keep turning but they're stuck trapped here. My place is not in this city, burdened with the weight of this world. The stress is too much, the worries like chains on my feet that love to skip so freely. The day to day is often so lovely yet so taxing on my soul. And I know that you look at me and see what you see, but you've never seen me release my gypsy. She's so  desperately begging to be free, if only for a day. I promise you that we would return, though we may take the long way home. That sentence made me giggle for I'm currently listening to a Norah Jones song. It's called "Come Away With Me". That line is from a different song though. Could you imagine a day in the fields and trees? Just the two of us laughing and dancing and being. For just a day. I just want to be. Leaves the worries of reality behind and make a little magic to restore. It isn't really a want. This is what I need.