Well...

Good news, bad news. Just news? First and foremost: my results came back today and I am cancer free. I still have to get a small procedure done but not having cancer makes that such s small blip on the radar. Baby William is growing so much by the day. My heart melts every time I look at him. He's holding hands and grabbing hair and smiling and trying to talk and cuddling everywhere. Sir Anakin is also doing very well. The treatment plan we have him on seems to be working quite well and he's back to being my amazing little big man. I love him so much it makes my heart ache. He's growing into quite the young man and I couldn't be more proud. Country Boy and I are still together. I'm at odds on really where we stand currently. Things got so bad there for a bit and honestly I was ready to leave. We talked in depth for the first time in ages and it seems to have helped. He's trying really hard and that's what matters most.
As far as relationships in general I'm just still not feeling that connection on a deeper level, but then maybe I'm not meant to right now. Seems every time I've ever had the type of mental/emotional connection I'm currently craving I get broken in the end. I don't mind that though, it helps me to grow more. It's never been unworthy of the prices paid from my heart. I need communication on that deepest of levels. I need to feel my soul undressed and unwound, laying in the comfort of the afternoon sun awhile or wandering through fields of thoughts and dreams. That type of connection is intense, deep, difficult yet so rewarding. I need it. My soul craves it down to my core. Usually when I start feeling this way some life changing event occurs in the near future so I'm a tad bit anxious as well. I don't know where to go from here. I feel like I have so many good, loyal friends, but it's all so superficial. Get down to the nitty gritty with me. Grow with me. Open your soul and I'll do the same. I can't keep wasting time, it's all we have. Get real people. Get deep down, to the core, in touch with every fiber of your being real. I mean, it's hard. Reality checks suck, you have to learn to love your light and dark on the deepest of levels, you have to be willing to expose yourself to situations that are often less than ideal. I mean, I don't necessarily like reviewing past hurts and traumas, but I do it to keep in tune with myself and grow. I need those kinds of people in my life. Not the drama, just the kind of deep knowing and understanding that says "I am here, I am beautiful and I am a survivor." That connection from soul to soul, not just heart to heart. I need people that I can look at and know I'm not seeing a mask they're hiding behind. Be brave enough to open your soul to the world. Yes, there is risk of pain but I'm telling you the friendships derived from being that way are such a reward. Please someone... soul journey with me...

Anywho, I guess I'll update more later. I really need to try to take a nap.

Grief

The children are napping, so I took a moment to shed a tear. I'm hiding in that so favorite hiding spot of mine. You guessed it, the bathroom. You were an incredible woman. At 23 I still hid from you to have my cigarettes. Pepaw had lung cancer and almost died that year. Seems so trivial now. I would rather have those hidden moments with you. Your smile was quick and easy. Your laughter contagious. The very essence of you brought out the woman in me. I don't know a soul on this earth that didn't strive to be better just for you. You were just that kind of woman. And now, not even half a day past your departure, I already feel the emptiness in my soul. You had strength in reserves and you were always willing to share. Wisdom for days you said gave you your silver hair. Wit and charm floating around you in the air. I've never known another that believed in miracles like you. Gah. I can't even bring myself to finish this so soon. Bottom line is this: I already miss you and I still feel like you're here. I miss you today, I'll miss you tomorrow, I'll miss you forevermore. The grief has yet to hit me full force, and even I can not grasp the magnitude of feeling so bereft. You were the Nanny of my soul and I pray forever that you knew.

Sometimes, during the silky embrace of the night, I allow myself to think of you. The warmth of your hand running through my hair, the sound of your heart against my ear, the strength of your arms around me. In those moments, I love you still. I breathe the emotions almost easier than I breathe the air. There's a familiarity there, a comfort in the memory. I allow my heart to wander, finding where you are. And though I will never open that door again, the could have beens seep through the wood once more.
Sometimes in the light of the day, I hear your laughter floating through the air. It takes me back to those mornings spent talking and sharing and the merriment there. I hear the dog getting jealous, and sports on the telly. I see the way the sunshine plays against your hair. I remember that morning as you cooked us breakfast, the way the light came through the window. And I sat there picking music as you laughed at my choices, though it was your collection I was choosing from. I again feel your shirt wrapped around me, smell the food on the stove. And there it is. That moment I knew you just had to be the guy I had been searching for. I glanced up for a moment, as the sun lit the room around you and laughter filled the air. The smile on your face was the most genuine thing I ever have seen. The light in your eyes shone straight through me. In that single breathtakingly beautiful moment, I had never wanted you more.
Sometimes I wonder, will our paths ever cross again? In some distant future will your soul remember mine? I pick up the phone to ask you, for these are things we used to share. Remembering the last conversation we ever had, the sadness returns. The moments are gone but I am still here. And though your bare skin never caressed mine, I physically feel the whispers of your words in the wind. It's in these moments I know, I was truly naked around you. It's in these moments I know that the future will never be ours, but part of me will always remain with you. You were a soul mate, though what kind I wasn't aware.
Now I know. You taught me so much about my own heart, about my wants and dreams. I guess somewhere along the way I lost sight of that kind of friendship, or maybe pure friendship was never really there. All I can say in this moment is that I miss you still. I pray that some day in the future your soul recognizes mine and once again we can be friends. I pray that you understand the way you reached me to the core. That deepness and beauty and a connection like never before. No, I won't go back there, not with you. Forever, though, my heart will remember.

Hear beneath the simplicity of words.

I tell you these things, I rip apart my soul and hand you the pieces in little bits of information. I don't think you even realize that. These things I tell you are more than mere information, each thing is tied to a part of my soul. I try so hard to gain your understanding, to show you the vulnerabilities in me nobody else can see. This information comes to you in all of these little things I tell you in those late night conversations. I tell you- not to strike fear in your heart, not to bring stress upon you, not even to merely point out our weaknesses. No, I tell you these things so you know. You see: this journey we're on will never be easy. There will be ups and downs and all arounds. Some days I will be free and breeze through life as though the wind itself carries me. Others I will be so broken I may blow away should just one more breeze caress my skin. And I open my soul to you so you know, so you understand every little piece that makes me a whole person. Every concern, every joy. Every fear, every hope. I tell you these things so you know my heart, where fear threatens to win and the past haunts every thought. Because in our darkest hours, where fear abounds and stress makes a mess, you will know. You will see into the depths of that chaotic storm that is me and know where we stand in reality. You will still see your hold on my heart because you will know, whether I can show you or not. You are my solid ground. I tell you these things so we know where to work. Because to work together on these things is to gain a bond so strong the pull of the moon couldn't rip us apart.  We all know my love for the moon, so think of what this must mean of my love for you to be willing to tell you these things. I do not speak out of anger or hurt. Those emotions would make me hide these things I've been trying to tell you. So when the times are hard and I tell you these things, I tell you to fight the storm trying to tear us apart. The very storm that threatens to rip me apart in the quiet of the night, with or without your love near. I know that it is a plentiful weight I lay on your shoulders, as I tell you these things. Please know though, I tell you so you have a fighting chance. I tell you these things so that in those moments of darkness you have these little reminders, these little pieces of my soul to aid you. I tell you these things to add another piece of armor to our love, gaining strength until we are unbreakable. Know these things, learn these things, study these things, work on these things. For in our weakest moments, as the storm rages and the wind rips through and we feel like we're drowning, these things I tell you will come to light. For these are the things that will make us or break us. I tell you these things because together we can weather the storm, but separate it's vast and all consuming. So listen carefully my love, as I give you these pieces of my soul when I tell you these things.

The brokenness of a little girl...

The cold winds are here
Going straight through my soul
Knowing this year
You'd be 56 years old
It's your voice I want to hear
Full of wisdom and love

I was your Angel. You told me so. Your laughter filled the room. Your voice fills my head. If you were happy you sang. If you were sad you prayed. Things got so tough. Still, you weren't dead. That day plays in my mind. No smile, no laugh, no joy. Now I'm left here all alone. Knowing you'd be 56 years old. You said "I'm going home my dear. There's no need to fear." What you never knew, was you were my angel too.

So... I'm sitting here with a little miracle we call babies. He's eleven days old. How crazy is that? And I'm crying my eyes out because I wish daddy was here. This little bundle of joy carries his name, but my heart carries his love. I am saddened that my boys will never know the man that raised me. Even as he knew he was dying he kept his spirits up and gave all he had to us kids. Never again will I hear his silly songs about boogers in his nose or Jeremiah the bullfrog. Never again will his words of wisdom fall on my ears. He was my rock through the storms, my protector though he was bed ridden. He loved us so unconditionally words could never truly explain. Then he was gone. Just like that, without a word. Ten years later I'm still in tears. He was the greatest man I ever knew. Me and little William Clay have a full day today with a friends goodbye party this evening. But the cake is still on the table, and I can't bring myself to cut it. 56 years old, if only you had made it this far...I will always be Daddy's little girl. Your words of wisdom are my strength, your kind heart my guide, your knowledge my drive to learn, your songs my voice to sing, and mostly your love to get me through. Happy birthday Daddy. I hope they have cake up above.

On the brink.

I'm fighting this so hard it hurts. I'm screaming inside for any and every reason you could ever imagine.
As of Tuesday I will be induced to begin labor. I'm angry about this. I have gone through weeks of pain because the doctor didn't believe me when I told him I wouldn't dilate on my own. Now he's saying we can induce Tuesday. At that point I asked to hold off til Friday because my oldest son has school, even if that meant bearing through this pain a few more days. It's just more feasible for my family's routine. That's apparently not an option either. I hate feeling so helpless. I hate that he hasn't listened, or even that he has but hasn't been able to do anything about it. I hate that I've gone through weeks of unnecessary pain all because of a stupid fucking insurance claim. Because they apparently won't cover it unless I'm a week past due. I mean seriously? Since when do insurance companies tell the doctors what to do? And now here I am left worrying and trying to plan everything to make sure Anakin is taken care of, that I don't come home to a fucking mess, that my family is cared for. I'm angry that every plan has gone to absolute shit, but then again this pregnancy itself wasn't planned.  Oh, the irony there. And now here we are being induced in absolute horrible timing. I'm also infuriated that this child's father could not possibly give a fuck less about anything but himself. It may not matter to those around me, but it matters to me a great deal. I need to know that they will have things handled and yet again that responsibility falls on me. Everyone keeps saying everything will be alright, but nobody has the words or actions to prove that to be true. Nobody realizes the weight of the world on my shoulders to make sure this goes smoothly for everyone. The little things that add up every day keeping my head in order. Nobody understands the impact of being nine months pregnant, bipolar and OCD. And it isn't their fault. Everyone is so used to me handling everything that they have no clue what the weight of that responsibility feels like to me. I have to make sure everyone else is taken care of first and by the end of it all I'm so frustrated that I'm on the brink of losing it entirely. Which is where I am today. Someone can literally say hi and I envision myself strangling them. I literally have to withhold myself from doing so. I want silence, but the blaring thoughts in my mind refuse to quiet. So here I am, yet again, in the bathroom floor trying to get it out anyway I know how. And I moved to outside, the walls were reflecting my emotions and smothering me. Which makes me angry all over again. I miss running. Pushing myself to the physical limit, sweating out the worry and anger and darkness. Welcoming the physical exhaustion, the wind tearing through my lungs and clearing out the webs of these disorders stuck in there. As of today I'm not even allowed to fucking swim. The toll that takes on me emotionally is indescribable. A big body of water is my refuge when all else fails. There isn't enough hot water in the world to sting away the fury burning within me currently so my 30 minute shower only wasted money, it did nothing to calm me. Everyone is sleeping, so even my favorite past time of tearing apart the house and cleaning out the corners like the inky blackness seeping through my soul is out of the question. I'm losing my grip on this y'all. I used to have help. The St Johns Wart eased the black tendrils of fury burning through my every blood vessel. Nine months without it has proven just how much it truly helps. It's been a very long time since I've been so on edge. The nightmares have returned. Night terrors that I try to hide memories coming back to haunt me. The irritability is a dead give away though. And I see the concern in their eyes. The sideways glances just to make sure I'm still checked in, that I still have a grip on this disorder. The constant "are you okay". The tentative Hello and obvious suppression of anything at all that could set me off on another tirade. The relief in their eyes when my rant isn't directed at them. The pain when I physically and emotionally can not return the love that is so graciously yet cautiously showed to me. I see these things. I hate myself for it. I hate being like this. I'm desperately grasping at straws, begging for mercy from myself. Drowning in my own emotions and praying they see that it's not them, it's me. I'm tearing out my hair in my mind, screaming at myself to knock it off, breaking down at the slightest failure because I know where this path leads and it isn't somewhere I want to be. This isn't me. But that's just it. This IS a part of me. Part of me that I've controlled so long I no longer know how to handle losing that control, even briefly. And I feel myself on that edge. The Dark corners of my soul edging me closer to jumping into the black abyss being bipolar can create out of nowhere. It feeds on every negative you try to forget. Hungrily eating all that is good and beautiful in this universe. The nothingness that screams so loud it'll shatter your soul. I'm crying out for anyone to save me. Save me from myself, pull me out of these emotional rapids. But there's nothing we can do. Only endure until Tuesday. And that knowledge is gut wrenching in a way words could never describe. Top that with having to plan out every little detail of EVERYTHING while completely disrupting your family's newly engaged routine. Every time someone tells me it will all work out I physically restrain myself from spitting in their face. Who will sweep the floors? Fill the ice trays? Wipe down the counters? Will anyone else think to wipe down the bathroom properly? Double check to make sure we have everything we need? Make sure everything is organized so it can be found in the middle of the night, stumbling around in the darkness while half asleep with a newborn crying in your ear? These things may seem frivolous to you, but they're imperative to me. How will I know Anakin is on time for school while I'm hosoitalized? What will happen if he has a melt down like he did today? Can they handle it? Can they ease his fears? I'm his mother. That's my role. I know that this pregnancy is a blessing, deep in my heart I know that to be true. I hold no ill feelings towards my growing, soon to be here, son. But it has been one thing after another since the beginning of this journey and it's becoming harder and harder to bear when I didn't want this in the first place. My anger and resentment there is towards his father. That mother fucker that "wanted to start a family and settle down" didn't even make it to the appointment today. Said he was up all night puking and didn't want to spread it. I don't even trust him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt there. He gets to go on about his daily business gallivanting around and pretending as if he's prince charming while the ENTIRE weight of this pregnancy and child thereafter has fallen on MY shoulders. He gets to put on his front of being the good guy (yet do absolutely NOTHING except respond 'k' to the message letting him know his child will be born Tuesday). It's me and those around me dealing with every emotional/physical/financial issue that has risen. Then when he gets the results of the paternity test (that he expected ME to arrange) he'll just swoop right in and be Oh so fucking let me shove it down your throat wonderful. He doesn't have to deal with taking care of our child those first few months. No, he gets to wait until mediation because he CHOOSES to. He gets to stop by randomly to see his son, because I'm trying to be fair. Drop in, coo a little and oretend to be a daddy, then leave and go back to his life. We get to deal with the responisibility of caring for this child. And don't get me wrong, I'm beyond overjoyed that the Lord blessed me with another child. I embrace that responsibility with everything in my heart. I know that the joys of little William Clay will far outweigh anything else. His father though? I hate him. I despise his very existence. I can't blame (though blame sounds negative, I can't find other words) him entirely for this pregnancy but I have no doubt he wanted this to happen thinking it would somehow bring us back together. He hinted at such himself. The thought is sickening. The thought of him literally makes me physically sick. He hasn't been here at all. Made no effort to be any part of this pregnancy other than showing up to doctor appointments. Let's not forget me being cussed out because originally I didn't have insurance and they didnt reimburse him for the first few appointments. Yet he'll get to reap all the benefits of being "daddy" because I can't bring myself to lie to my child. He's no more a father than the dirt on my shoe. I seriously wish the ass would just walk away. The man that HAS been here through it all and DESERVES to be called Daddy is instead taking a back seat out of respect for what is "right". Let us raise this child because we're obviously the ones that truly care. Walk away and continue living your lie of a life. Don't drag my child through this. I already feel sorry for my child that my own naive decisions caused him to have such a lying, manipulative jerk as a father. That is my only true issue with this pregnancy. I burn in anger that I will never allow myself to let my child know these things. He'll learn on his own in his own time. I pray to God that he grows with the ability to see the truth beneath the facade his father puts on. But even I fell for it, if only for a short while. Even still, with all of my anger burning within, I pray that things work out in the best interest of my child. I have grit my teeth and tried to be as reasonable as possible. I can honestly say that. It may not be getting us anywhere, but when the day comes and my child asks, I can honestly say I've tried my hardest to be fair. That small triumph is doing little to ease my fury tonight though. An hour into writing and I'm still burning within, though not as on edge as earlier. I believe I could now face humanity without acting like a savage. All I can do right now though is ask my support group to bear with me at this point. Hold me when I cry, but silently. I do not need your words, I need your presence. Take my anger and tears with a grain of salt because I promise it is not truly directed at you. Genuinely want to help, but don't let it tear you apart if there's nothing you can do. The problem lies within my chemical/hormonal imbalance, not your actions. Your presence during my suffering means more than you'll ever know. Understand that I know things will work out, but that I reserve the right to lose my shit every now and then. See the struggle in my eyes, but know that relief is around the corner. And for the safety of my sanity I pray you fill the damn ice trays and wipe the hair out of the sink. And yes, even I laughed there. But while you're at it, I would be eternally grateful if you also swept the floors ;) Those of you that love me so deeply, I know you are reading this.  I see your love. Even when it seems hopeless, know that it helps. Know that even in the midst of this emotional turmoil I am currently listening to Cher 'You Haven't Seen The Last Of Me' and my heart is singing every word faithfully. We will get through this as we have gotten through so much else. It will be alright.

My little one.

I can not get it through my head that he started school today. We've been preparing for weeks. He has all his school clothes, his back pack, his supplies, even his own agenda. But it never really hit me until we walked through the doors this morning. The fear that struck through me is unlike any I have ever faced. My baby. My first born. Wee little one of seven pounds five ounces. It was inevitable that one day he would grow up. He would step out on his own and start forging his own journeys. I just wasn't ready for this so soon. He held my hand as we entered the classroom, said hello to his teachers, and in an instant grew inexplicably. He found his own cubby, his own seat, then set about exploring his classroom. I am now the proud, absolutely terrified mother of a preschooler. From this day on there will be three hours Tuesday-Friday where I can't protect him. There will be other children his age, and new adults in his life. What if they are mean to him? Will he be made fun of because of his glasses? Will he find the strength in himself to say Hello and make a new friend rather than hiding behind my leg? Who will cling to my skirts as I'm trying to make lunch? Who will jump from behind the couch in an attempt to scare me? What on this earth could possibly fill the void left by merely a few hours absence of my little big man? What if he doesn't like the food? Or he gets bored and decides to act silly crazy as he so often does at home? Will he miss me while he's there? What if he likes them better than me? What if he doesn't want to come home? I so badly want to encourage him on this new path, yet I also want to snatch him up in my arms and never let go. A mothers love is unconditional. It is also very selfish. In my heart of hearts I know that he will do great. He's intelligent, witty, fearless, full of laughter and eager to explore. I can't help but worry though. Today as I shut that classroom door and forced myself to walk home I left not just a piece of my heart, but a large part of my soul. For four years he has been my every reason to breathe, to grow and to move forward. Now he's venturing onto his own path and I feel helpless as I sit back and watch my baby boy grow up. And the underlying fear behind it all: what if he decides he doesn't need me anymore?