The season of Lent is a time of prayer, penance, and preparation for the future celebration of the resurrection. This is the most sacred of times in the Christian calendar, and by far my most cherished of holiday seasons. This time of year is especially important to me as a time to reflect, spiritually, personally, and professionally....a conscience "spring cleaning" of the mind and soul.
I hadn't thought much this year about how I planned to make this year special. I have never been a fan of giving up cookies, social networking, or text messaging. These vices are silly things that we did without before, and can do without after. For me to feel the true and utter void of something in my life, I need to have something that MEANS something to me. As much as I enjoy nosing around wedding pictures, reading emotional rant status updates, or just the friendly "chitchat" text message, these aren't the ties that bind in my life.
This year for Lent, I am giving up my walls. These self-preservation mechanisms that have kept me guarded for so long, are now my killer, because once the flood waters of tears and fears cross over the barriers, they flood the inside, and your protected enclosure has now become your drowning vessel. These walls are no longer my haven, and are no longer necessary.
This year for Lent, I am giving myself. Yes, I have a promise to becoming a better friend. I am going to spend 40 days and 40 nights listening, soaking up the information I have missed, and am focusing on another person instead of myself.
This year for ME, I am making a change. I am taking the plunge, a BLIND LEAP, of faith. I am moving forward into 2012 as if it is MY YEAR. I am focused on the small picture, but I am fully aware of how the story ends: Me, in a casket, wearing a black dress, with a smile that no mortician had to paint on. I wouldn't say I am better, because I am not, but I have recently been given the gift of motivation. I have no intention of losing that.
I've got 40 days of praying, fasting, dreaming, and planning ahead of me.
Tomorrow might not be a good day, but today the sun is shining....and it will always eventually come out again.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Scoured the Town, Completely Aroused, Making Love to our Memories
Having a difficult time today....tried to ignore the fact of what this week is and focus on those things that come around it, but apparently it's too much. If you asked the Marine Corps, they might say it never happened, but I know better....as do more and more conspiracy theorists who I, years ago thought were Fruit Loops, but now believe are JUST eccentric enough to at last run with a Fraction of the truth towards the whole truth or at least closeby. <INSERT BIRTHER RANTING ABOUT OBAMA BORN ELSEWHERE>
My crying in public days are over, and I'm sitting at home keeping KLEENEX and EDY'S ICE CREAM in business, celebrating what you might call my own version of the sad holidays. (Pearl Harbor Day, Patriot Day, Holocaust Remembrance Day). You might even call it "Mission-That-Ruined-Lives-iversary". I'm being cranky...forgive me. I'll blame it on the ANGER stage in the grief cycle that I have revisited lately and stalled upon. And a little moan and groan about how my company's EAP program won't cover my issues because apparently your husband being blown up in Afghanistan is considered a "big, longterm" problem, and the are designed to help with "small, short term" problems. LESSONS FROM THE WIFE OF A MARINE #1: Any situation that puts a spouse in a caretaker role, is a HUGE issue. That huge issue also creates lots of smaller issues such as social issues with friends, family, and strangers, frustrations with coworkers, policy, or government, etc. I'm still waiting for the Department of Veterans' Affairs to give me a service-connected lifetime supply of uppers to compensate me for the loss Operation Enduring Freedom caused me.
I'm aching today, from crying to the point of being physically ill. I'm tired of thinking I am doing better, and then BAM. Is it going to be like this EVERY February? Every November like when he left? Every May on his birthday? Am I EVER going to feel whole again? I've got so much anger inside of me right now that I want to be able to release in a safe controlled environment.
I was born a spitfire. My father told me often that I was born 8lbs 0 ounces and wearing a tiny little business suit. My grandmother confirms this often, apparently forgetting what day of the week it is, or my friends names, but NEVER misquoting anything I said as a child (most recently repeating how when I was 11 I shattered my wrist and when told I was going to be given morphine until the surgeon was available, I flatly told the ER doctor that I was refusing it and could take the pain because I was fully aware that Civil War soldiers became addicted to morphine, and that I neither was a substance abuser or wanted to be a future statistic.) I try, try, try to live the DON'T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF mantra, but this week it's so hard for me not to want to explode. I'm so SICK AND FUCKING TIRED and of people not appreciating their lives, jobs, families, or friends. I'm SO tired of being surrounded by people who are so slack in their daily lives that they need their hand held.
I'm HUGELY tired of insincere people asking me, "How's Hubby?" only to get the response that he STILL has permanent brain damage, STILL is wrecked with PTSD, and STILL is deteriorating. It makes me freaking wonder if he hadn't have gotten a brain injury, and instead his arm was blown off, if they would ask me if he had gotten better, as if his arm was going to grow back. HELLO...what does PERMANENT MEAN?! Yesterday, someone asked me about him, then afterwards mentioned how a few years ago we were SO HAPPY and that I loved him SO MUCH and that's so sad how things can change. This is so damn disheartening to me that people can think that way. I said that I appreciated her thoughts and CLEARLY still love him equally if not more than I did when I put him on that freaking bus.....he's just not here. Someone else earlier in the week asked about him and then said, "Once you picked yourself up....you're doing so well. You seem so happy." I told her that I'm in survival mode. I try to find the beauty and humor and irony in life every day. Try to find something to smile about everyday. I try to hold kids and hug my friends (PRIOR I WAS NOT A HUGGER) and give the elderly attention and respect, and REMIND myself every day that I had it great and perfect if only for a little while. I mean, C'mon! The most handsome man in the world loved me. Who has it better than that?
I'm feeling God's agape love all around me. In the past two months, I've fallen deeper and deeper in love with my friends, who are my family with tangible phileo love for me. I especially like kisses on the cheek. I still am in romantic love...I'm just in love alone.
My biggest gripe right now? It's hitting me hard that I'm so freaking angry I don't have a family. People screw up their lives and dreams on a daily basis. Myself? All I wanted out of my earthly life was to be a good wife and a good mother to a handful of children. I had ambitions that I achieved, personally and professionally, and I have more goals....but the only thing that I truly WANTED was the family. Maybe I'll get over it. Maybe I wouldn't have been a good mother anyway. Maybe I'm getting more and more damaged by the day, deteriorating myself.....or maybe I just need to have a cold root beer. <INSERT OVERACTIVE IMAGINATION THAT PROVIDES SURPRISE VISITOR WITH COLD ROOT BEER TO SHARE.>
I'm planning out my future on paper.....and I'm thinking the house is what I want. I'm also coping now by borrowing my friends' families as often as available.
I found a new feature on facebook timeline which allows you to view back all of your history by the month and year. I went back to the Angry Megan from 2008-2009....and BOY! It's funny that I don't remember writing what I wrote then (as we know, I'm very direct, but you have to speak "Megan" to understand what I am saying) but I remember the dates and what I was doing during all of that....and it's horribly sad how down I was, however it's awesome to go visit myself in the past and see how, even at the time very dreary, I was SO CLEVER.....and vague. I don't remember writing any of it, but I can am Megan-literate and can know exactly what I meant immediately. Again, if I had that time machine, I would go back, pour doubles, and have a drink with myself and remind me to chill the hell out. Worse things are on the way....and right now, I feel the same. I need a visit from the 2015 version of myself to tell me to snap the hell out of this, because life is SUPER CRAPPY in 2015.
I AM thankful for my friends. Some of them more than others, but all are fantastic. I'm so fortunate that I am blessed with people around me that are so selfless and giving, even though I am so self-centered.
In 2007, I wrote about how that I was ready for 2008 and that it would be awesome. Not...so...much, but let's hope for sunny skies for at least a little while.
I've now got a date with some melatonin, freshly changed sheets, a candlelit room, and a few hours of voice recordings. This is the last time I'm doing this, and then this love affair with my memories has got to stop. April, referring to holding on too tight, told me, "It's a footprint on your beach of life, Megs. Time to create new ones or sit on the beach and watch the world go by." She's right...someone grab me by the hand, and bring me back to the future. I'm tired of feeling like I was living a fantastic dream and then woke up to find it never happened.
Isaiah 54:4 Fear not; for thou shalt not be ashamed:
neither be thou confounded; for thou shalt not be put to shame:
for thou shalt forget the shame of thy youth, and shalt not
remember the reproach of thy widowhood any more.
My crying in public days are over, and I'm sitting at home keeping KLEENEX and EDY'S ICE CREAM in business, celebrating what you might call my own version of the sad holidays. (Pearl Harbor Day, Patriot Day, Holocaust Remembrance Day). You might even call it "Mission-That-Ruined-Lives-iversary". I'm being cranky...forgive me. I'll blame it on the ANGER stage in the grief cycle that I have revisited lately and stalled upon. And a little moan and groan about how my company's EAP program won't cover my issues because apparently your husband being blown up in Afghanistan is considered a "big, longterm" problem, and the are designed to help with "small, short term" problems. LESSONS FROM THE WIFE OF A MARINE #1: Any situation that puts a spouse in a caretaker role, is a HUGE issue. That huge issue also creates lots of smaller issues such as social issues with friends, family, and strangers, frustrations with coworkers, policy, or government, etc. I'm still waiting for the Department of Veterans' Affairs to give me a service-connected lifetime supply of uppers to compensate me for the loss Operation Enduring Freedom caused me.
I'm aching today, from crying to the point of being physically ill. I'm tired of thinking I am doing better, and then BAM. Is it going to be like this EVERY February? Every November like when he left? Every May on his birthday? Am I EVER going to feel whole again? I've got so much anger inside of me right now that I want to be able to release in a safe controlled environment.
I was born a spitfire. My father told me often that I was born 8lbs 0 ounces and wearing a tiny little business suit. My grandmother confirms this often, apparently forgetting what day of the week it is, or my friends names, but NEVER misquoting anything I said as a child (most recently repeating how when I was 11 I shattered my wrist and when told I was going to be given morphine until the surgeon was available, I flatly told the ER doctor that I was refusing it and could take the pain because I was fully aware that Civil War soldiers became addicted to morphine, and that I neither was a substance abuser or wanted to be a future statistic.) I try, try, try to live the DON'T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF mantra, but this week it's so hard for me not to want to explode. I'm so SICK AND FUCKING TIRED and of people not appreciating their lives, jobs, families, or friends. I'm SO tired of being surrounded by people who are so slack in their daily lives that they need their hand held.
I'm HUGELY tired of insincere people asking me, "How's Hubby?" only to get the response that he STILL has permanent brain damage, STILL is wrecked with PTSD, and STILL is deteriorating. It makes me freaking wonder if he hadn't have gotten a brain injury, and instead his arm was blown off, if they would ask me if he had gotten better, as if his arm was going to grow back. HELLO...what does PERMANENT MEAN?! Yesterday, someone asked me about him, then afterwards mentioned how a few years ago we were SO HAPPY and that I loved him SO MUCH and that's so sad how things can change. This is so damn disheartening to me that people can think that way. I said that I appreciated her thoughts and CLEARLY still love him equally if not more than I did when I put him on that freaking bus.....he's just not here. Someone else earlier in the week asked about him and then said, "Once you picked yourself up....you're doing so well. You seem so happy." I told her that I'm in survival mode. I try to find the beauty and humor and irony in life every day. Try to find something to smile about everyday. I try to hold kids and hug my friends (PRIOR I WAS NOT A HUGGER) and give the elderly attention and respect, and REMIND myself every day that I had it great and perfect if only for a little while. I mean, C'mon! The most handsome man in the world loved me. Who has it better than that?
I'm feeling God's agape love all around me. In the past two months, I've fallen deeper and deeper in love with my friends, who are my family with tangible phileo love for me. I especially like kisses on the cheek. I still am in romantic love...I'm just in love alone.
My biggest gripe right now? It's hitting me hard that I'm so freaking angry I don't have a family. People screw up their lives and dreams on a daily basis. Myself? All I wanted out of my earthly life was to be a good wife and a good mother to a handful of children. I had ambitions that I achieved, personally and professionally, and I have more goals....but the only thing that I truly WANTED was the family. Maybe I'll get over it. Maybe I wouldn't have been a good mother anyway. Maybe I'm getting more and more damaged by the day, deteriorating myself.....or maybe I just need to have a cold root beer. <INSERT OVERACTIVE IMAGINATION THAT PROVIDES SURPRISE VISITOR WITH COLD ROOT BEER TO SHARE.>
I'm planning out my future on paper.....and I'm thinking the house is what I want. I'm also coping now by borrowing my friends' families as often as available.
I found a new feature on facebook timeline which allows you to view back all of your history by the month and year. I went back to the Angry Megan from 2008-2009....and BOY! It's funny that I don't remember writing what I wrote then (as we know, I'm very direct, but you have to speak "Megan" to understand what I am saying) but I remember the dates and what I was doing during all of that....and it's horribly sad how down I was, however it's awesome to go visit myself in the past and see how, even at the time very dreary, I was SO CLEVER.....and vague. I don't remember writing any of it, but I can am Megan-literate and can know exactly what I meant immediately. Again, if I had that time machine, I would go back, pour doubles, and have a drink with myself and remind me to chill the hell out. Worse things are on the way....and right now, I feel the same. I need a visit from the 2015 version of myself to tell me to snap the hell out of this, because life is SUPER CRAPPY in 2015.
I AM thankful for my friends. Some of them more than others, but all are fantastic. I'm so fortunate that I am blessed with people around me that are so selfless and giving, even though I am so self-centered.
In 2007, I wrote about how that I was ready for 2008 and that it would be awesome. Not...so...much, but let's hope for sunny skies for at least a little while.
I've now got a date with some melatonin, freshly changed sheets, a candlelit room, and a few hours of voice recordings. This is the last time I'm doing this, and then this love affair with my memories has got to stop. April, referring to holding on too tight, told me, "It's a footprint on your beach of life, Megs. Time to create new ones or sit on the beach and watch the world go by." She's right...someone grab me by the hand, and bring me back to the future. I'm tired of feeling like I was living a fantastic dream and then woke up to find it never happened.
Isaiah 54:4 Fear not; for thou shalt not be ashamed:
neither be thou confounded; for thou shalt not be put to shame:
for thou shalt forget the shame of thy youth, and shalt not
remember the reproach of thy widowhood any more.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Let My Love Open The Door....and close....and open again
Happy Valentine's Week. Of course, I believe that we should celebrate love, in phileo, erotic, and most importantly agape form every day of the year, but I take pleasure in the festivity of every holiday...and like to stretch most for a week. This year, I am stretching the Valentine's high through my favorite holiday, Ash Wednesday. Something about the Lenten season brings energy to me (which is kind of strange for 40 days of fasting.)
I had *PROBABLY* the most fantastic Valentine's Day ever (considering we have already covered, I've never REALLY had a good one.) Highlights as follows:
- Someone took a picture of me in the office and stated they were uploading to facebook as the "coolest loan officer ever."
- I spoke to 4 old men that talked about how they were treating their wives. (The Old couples are what I like....not the young ones.)
- My Nicole left me a surprise on my car that left both excited and soothed at the same time....and a note that made me Laugh out loud, which I am trying to as much as possible these days.
- Met a man that is unfortunately going through a divorce that has wedding rings tattooed on....and had a positive attitude. (And the lady took the freaking lightbulbs when she left!?) He was pretty special.
- Had a "chance encounter" with my future husband. Ok....not really. I had an orthodontist appointment, but the man moves as slow as molasses in winter....so I'm guessing Mother Dora meant a different dentist.
- Was given roses by an 11-year-old.
- Was made breakfast (for dinner) by my BFF Carlos*.
- Was bridesmaid in a sporadic wedding downtown.....for people I knew about 12 hours. (I can't SAY how much that was. Thanks for letting us be a part of your day Ricky* and Lucy*.
All in all, I am pleased with how it went, and am determined to now appreciate the holiday more every year. Valentine's has never been my thing, but I am getting there.
Once upon a time, J played my favorite song "Let me Love Open the Door" for me by the water, and although I didn't like him....I loved him, and he did. These days, I'm finding God has opened the door to my heart yet again.....but it's a kind of empty room. Hoping to fill with as much agape/phileo/romantic love as possible for the rest of my life. <3
Sunday, February 5, 2012
It's 5 O'clock in the evening....
It's 5 O'clock in the evening and today is a day for tears.
I made it through the month of January, in short form, from an Oreo-filling induced sugar high. I had company through the holidays with family here half of the month. I had not felt this "good" in a long time. Consider the term "good" relative. Life changed for me in January with about 10 of my friends filling my time, where I can't remember the last day I had that was actually "open" and I was alone with my thoughts.
Today, I read through old love letters, skimmed through our yearbooks (referring to the adult yearbooks I make for myself each year) reliving all of our memories, listened to his voice in the recordings, and made myself cry to the point of dehydration. <INSERT GENTLEMAN FRIEND TO COME VISIT ME AT THIS MOMENT AND TAKE MY MIND OFF THINGS> or better yet <INSERT ....> nevermind.
I've had an emotional high (SEE: Sugar rush) in January....however February, with it's pre-spring connotation, date-iversary, and Valentine's Day, has hit me hard and I'm crashing. I thought I was doing ok, and I'm just as mixed up now as I was two years ago. I'm so angry. And I'm never going to get better. I'm smiling and happy-ish, and then BAM, in the blink of an eye, and a glance to the left I see a wounded warrior poster and it makes me sick. When I think about how I could have a 7-year-old child, I wonder WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?! Why do so many people have the good things in life and not appreciate them? How can any decent human being walk away from their spouse and children? Why? Why? WHY!?
If we keep asking ourselves "why" we will go crazy. (Say, "Stop asking why, Megan. You can't afford to be any more crazy.") I know the answer: Because Life Happens. But knowing that answer doesn't stop me from being angry. I'm so FREAKING angry that I'm where I am in life. I'm FREAKING angry 50% of people walk away from their life for no good reason. I'm FREAKING angry because my husband didn't love me enough to "magically" come back and be well again. I'm FREAKING angry because I'm lost.
I miss my life.
And the worst part about that....is that I don't know what exactly I'm missing. And in the last month, I've contemplated a few things, and a few offers, and it freaked me the hell out (to the point of throwing up from emotional rantings to my mirror because no one else is here.) I'm angry at myself because I don't miss J as much as I miss the feeling I had that I knew the road we were going on. When I put him on that freaking bus, I had no idea that he would come home the way he did.....more precisely, I thought a Marine either LIVES or DIES from a war. I've come to find out, "surviving" is relative. I miss the comfort of knowing our plan. The kids, the house plan, the singing, the love.
I'm so terribly sad today....and don't know where my day went. I think it's a day for cuddles....yet, I don't even have a teddy bear handy. I'm wondering if this will ever stop.
I've been searching for PRACTICAL MAGIC without success for weeks. I NEEEEEEED to watch this movie as it explains how I feel, in a kind of singsong comedic relief kind of way. (OR, it's an excuse for my to see Aiden Quinn in a movie other than LEGENDS OF THE FALL which makes a person want to jump off a bridge.)
Today is a day for crying.....and I don't even know why, but I am blaming it on the month of February. Come on, March. Mama needs to smile again soon, and Pawley's Island is the best place to see the blooms.
I made it through the month of January, in short form, from an Oreo-filling induced sugar high. I had company through the holidays with family here half of the month. I had not felt this "good" in a long time. Consider the term "good" relative. Life changed for me in January with about 10 of my friends filling my time, where I can't remember the last day I had that was actually "open" and I was alone with my thoughts.
Today, I read through old love letters, skimmed through our yearbooks (referring to the adult yearbooks I make for myself each year) reliving all of our memories, listened to his voice in the recordings, and made myself cry to the point of dehydration. <INSERT GENTLEMAN FRIEND TO COME VISIT ME AT THIS MOMENT AND TAKE MY MIND OFF THINGS> or better yet <INSERT ....> nevermind.
I've had an emotional high (SEE: Sugar rush) in January....however February, with it's pre-spring connotation, date-iversary, and Valentine's Day, has hit me hard and I'm crashing. I thought I was doing ok, and I'm just as mixed up now as I was two years ago. I'm so angry. And I'm never going to get better. I'm smiling and happy-ish, and then BAM, in the blink of an eye, and a glance to the left I see a wounded warrior poster and it makes me sick. When I think about how I could have a 7-year-old child, I wonder WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?! Why do so many people have the good things in life and not appreciate them? How can any decent human being walk away from their spouse and children? Why? Why? WHY!?
If we keep asking ourselves "why" we will go crazy. (Say, "Stop asking why, Megan. You can't afford to be any more crazy.") I know the answer: Because Life Happens. But knowing that answer doesn't stop me from being angry. I'm so FREAKING angry that I'm where I am in life. I'm FREAKING angry 50% of people walk away from their life for no good reason. I'm FREAKING angry because my husband didn't love me enough to "magically" come back and be well again. I'm FREAKING angry because I'm lost.
I miss my life.
And the worst part about that....is that I don't know what exactly I'm missing. And in the last month, I've contemplated a few things, and a few offers, and it freaked me the hell out (to the point of throwing up from emotional rantings to my mirror because no one else is here.) I'm angry at myself because I don't miss J as much as I miss the feeling I had that I knew the road we were going on. When I put him on that freaking bus, I had no idea that he would come home the way he did.....more precisely, I thought a Marine either LIVES or DIES from a war. I've come to find out, "surviving" is relative. I miss the comfort of knowing our plan. The kids, the house plan, the singing, the love.
I'm so terribly sad today....and don't know where my day went. I think it's a day for cuddles....yet, I don't even have a teddy bear handy. I'm wondering if this will ever stop.
I've been searching for PRACTICAL MAGIC without success for weeks. I NEEEEEEED to watch this movie as it explains how I feel, in a kind of singsong comedic relief kind of way. (OR, it's an excuse for my to see Aiden Quinn in a movie other than LEGENDS OF THE FALL which makes a person want to jump off a bridge.)
Today is a day for crying.....and I don't even know why, but I am blaming it on the month of February. Come on, March. Mama needs to smile again soon, and Pawley's Island is the best place to see the blooms.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Playing With Fire
The problem with playing with fire is the promised pain of the eminent burn. You know it's going to happen, you know it's going to hurt like hell, and you may even brace yourself for it....but the glow of juggling flaming bowling pins is too mesmerizing to make yourself stop.
I am playing with fire.
As a child, I suffered from a case of juvenile masochism: I picked the skin off my scabby knees, poured freshly melted bubbly wax on my skin just to let it dry and peel it off to leave a red mark, and stole needles from my grandmother's sewing room to prick and poke myself until I bled....sometimes you just want to bleed to know you're alive.
As an adult, I have suffered heartache, pain unnecessary and possibly avoidable, but a direct result of life happening. Living is a fire. Those who cease to exist are extinguished, and often forgotten.
True love is an eternal flame that never burns out....even if on person has to go on loving alone for the rest of a lifetime that should have been shared. Life isn't fair. It's messy and painful.
I'm making the most of it, LIVING, and attempting to go to bed every night feeling spent after having woken up and having made sweet love to my day for twelve hours straight (HOTT!) and knowing at the end as I close my eyes to rest that I did the best I could to look at myself and make a change. (CUE: Michael Jackson's MAN IN THE MIRROR)
Today, I made a person know they can count on me.
Today, I made one person smile.
Today, I made three people laugh.
I did absolutely nothing.....and absolutely everything all at once, in that to five people, I made an impact. Five people are going to bed right now, and I'm on their subconscience mind...I'm a person that changed their day for the better and not the worse, and that's something to be damn proud of.
I've been so busy the past two weeks, I've (almost) been too busy to realize the true reality that is my life. I'm falling more madly in love with my friends by the minute (about 4 of them in particular) that are rocking my world these days by just being alive, and in mine, and are rapidly improving my quality of life. Chats with these people and REALLY laughing to where I can't stop and my side hurts are the best of the best things in life.
I am playing with fire.
I am likely to get burned.
And I don't care...because life is for the living, and damn it, I'm alive.
Somtimes I think I want it to be smooth sailing from here on out, just me all alone...but let's face it:
I'm still a soft core masochist, and I'm hitting myself in the head with a hammer, because "it just feels so damn good when I stop."
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
I am playing with fire.
As a child, I suffered from a case of juvenile masochism: I picked the skin off my scabby knees, poured freshly melted bubbly wax on my skin just to let it dry and peel it off to leave a red mark, and stole needles from my grandmother's sewing room to prick and poke myself until I bled....sometimes you just want to bleed to know you're alive.
As an adult, I have suffered heartache, pain unnecessary and possibly avoidable, but a direct result of life happening. Living is a fire. Those who cease to exist are extinguished, and often forgotten.
True love is an eternal flame that never burns out....even if on person has to go on loving alone for the rest of a lifetime that should have been shared. Life isn't fair. It's messy and painful.
I'm making the most of it, LIVING, and attempting to go to bed every night feeling spent after having woken up and having made sweet love to my day for twelve hours straight (HOTT!) and knowing at the end as I close my eyes to rest that I did the best I could to look at myself and make a change. (CUE: Michael Jackson's MAN IN THE MIRROR)
Today, I made a person know they can count on me.
Today, I made one person smile.
Today, I made three people laugh.
I did absolutely nothing.....and absolutely everything all at once, in that to five people, I made an impact. Five people are going to bed right now, and I'm on their subconscience mind...I'm a person that changed their day for the better and not the worse, and that's something to be damn proud of.
I've been so busy the past two weeks, I've (almost) been too busy to realize the true reality that is my life. I'm falling more madly in love with my friends by the minute (about 4 of them in particular) that are rocking my world these days by just being alive, and in mine, and are rapidly improving my quality of life. Chats with these people and REALLY laughing to where I can't stop and my side hurts are the best of the best things in life.
I am playing with fire.
I am likely to get burned.
And I don't care...because life is for the living, and damn it, I'm alive.
Somtimes I think I want it to be smooth sailing from here on out, just me all alone...but let's face it:
I'm still a soft core masochist, and I'm hitting myself in the head with a hammer, because "it just feels so damn good when I stop."
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
Monday, January 23, 2012
My Last 25 years....
I survived the 24 hour period also known as my 26th Birthday. Some statistics for you regarding birthweek 2012: I received 66 birthday well wishes via facebook, 12 via text message, 2 birthday songs (one at my birthday dinner with 11 friends attending, and one via the telephone from Manfriend), 1 birthday New York strip, 6 shots, 2 lemon cupcakes, 4 birthday presents, one bouquet of flowers, and a 90 minute birthday chat before bedtime.
In my last 25 years, I have grown from 21 inches long to 67 inches tall, from 8 lbs to MORE than 8 Lbs, which makes me think my Grandma tells me the truth when she has always said I was "worth my weight in gold"....and I keep getting more valuable. I have moved 5 times, bought and sold a home, went through 7 (DAMN!) vehicles, loved and lost, worked, played, and cried a million tears in between. I've planned a wedding and a funeral in there, put some of the best people that walked the earth into the ground. I've made some friends, burned some bridges, and learned the difference between loyalty and love, and know what's worth having, and what's a waste of time. I have accumulated the life experience in my time that most people don't have until they are in the twilight years ready to bite the dust.
Carlos* and the kiddos came over to swim to kick off my birthweek. They are a ton of fun, and make me feel better just being around them...and DEFINITELY make me want to get involved with the parish youth again. Carlos makes me laugh and I'm lucky to have such a good damn friend. He asked me what he could bring me for lunch that day, and I said nothing because I just had eaten. He said "What an empty rum bottle?" THAT is written right out of a movie. Very funny...and I need funny. And Corny these days. Lots of Hugh Grant + Tom Hanks + Greg Kinnear for Megan.
Carlos* and the kiddos came over to swim to kick off my birthweek. They are a ton of fun, and make me feel better just being around them...and DEFINITELY make me want to get involved with the parish youth again. Carlos makes me laugh and I'm lucky to have such a good damn friend. He asked me what he could bring me for lunch that day, and I said nothing because I just had eaten. He said "What an empty rum bottle?" THAT is written right out of a movie. Very funny...and I need funny. And Corny these days. Lots of Hugh Grant + Tom Hanks + Greg Kinnear for Megan.
Grandma's visit went well. I'm glad to see her with a companion, although I was minorly envious when I saw them cuddling, and wish I could have a person on standby that I could keep in the closet that could rub the back of my head when I am sick, share a bag of popcorn because I could never eat a bag by myself, carry my clubs on the golf course, etc....and then be able to be tucked back away when they were not necessary. (I am aware this is considered slave labor at worst and mistreatment of household staff at best, and is purely a fun thought.) While she was here, we purchased the most perfect wedding dress for a nearly 80-year-old woman. I adore it, and I'm so fortunate to have been able to shop with her and help her try them on. I had a mother's pride when helping and cannot express the sheer joy I had well up inside of me when she tried it on and I knew it was THE ONE! They went home yesterday, and I have to say I cried a little more than I normally do when she leaves.
Before J deployed the last time, Sundays were my favorite day of the week as far back as I can remember. I loved going to church with my family then eating lunch after with my cousins and aunts and uncles at my Grandparents home. I miss riding bicycles on muddy roads. I don't miss crashing and having scabby knees.
I gave my mobile number out several times in the last month to people I truly felt could use a friend in their life, and since I am not good for much else these days, I figure I can impact the world by at least lifting others up. Ricky*, 38, apparently waited a few weeks before calling...and it was a few weeks two long, because I can't place his name with his face. THIS, I find to be like Russian Roullette, or more accurately, forcing myself to not judge a book by his cover. He does have one thing going for him though, that in fact, he prefers the cookie to the cream.
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with Carlos* and the kiddos. Tweens are the MOST FUN EVER. I'm surprised at how clever they are, and I love to hear them laugh. We danced, and played and watched a vampire movie (YUCK!!!). This family deserves the best the world has to offer. Being around them, made it hit home HARD I could very easily have a 7-year old, 4-year-old, and 1-year old and they would be coming up on these 'tween ages soon. Where does time go? Can I bottle it and save it for later down the road when I am feeling better? I need to get a prescription for STRENGTH in pill form and be able to take it in order to pick up my pieces and move the hell on. My friend Amelia* from "back home" had posted on her facebook about the ignorance of people giving unsolicited thoughts on her and her husband's family planning. It blows my mind the things people say. I wrote back, "I LOOOOOOOOOOVE it when people tell me these days either "You're so LUCKY you didn't have to have kids because that would just be so damn sad you raising them alone with their Dad sick" or "Well you could still use his sperm and have kids anyway alone because you'd ALWAYS HAVE A PART OF HIM!" ---- FREAKING A. It's either a blessing I'm barren....or I should force myself into single parenthood where we can go visit daddy sick in the nursing home someday! "
These days I am having a hard time grasping why people with perfectly happy lives up and walk away from them, thinking they are going to find something "better" around the corner. I can't fathom why people don't make it work....and why the HELL people who actually ARE happy with their partner end up losing them, to death, illness, injury, or something else completely out of their control, but still leaves them alone the same. I'm not saying I don't understand a master plan....I'm saying I don't understand how people can't appreciate what they have, appreciate their life and the sheer grace that is bestowed on them.
I want my HUSBAND. I want my KIDS. I want my LIFE.
These things ARE NOT fill-in-the-blanks. Mine were stolen from me, and I'll never have them. Why the hell can't people who have theirs in front of them, appreciate them, and quit complaining that their kids leave muddy shoeprints, there baby cries all night, and that their husband leaves the toilet seat up. (Note: I will never marry a man who does this....If you did, I think their is a learning curve you need to give him for his "work in progress" state which is the first five years of marriage....After that, you should be free to pelt marshmallows at him.)
So here I am...4 days into my next 25 years. I think it's only going to get better from here (of course, I don't kid myself when I say things can be worse....HELLO. If you think not, you lack imagination.)
Before J deployed the last time, Sundays were my favorite day of the week as far back as I can remember. I loved going to church with my family then eating lunch after with my cousins and aunts and uncles at my Grandparents home. I miss riding bicycles on muddy roads. I don't miss crashing and having scabby knees.
I gave my mobile number out several times in the last month to people I truly felt could use a friend in their life, and since I am not good for much else these days, I figure I can impact the world by at least lifting others up. Ricky*, 38, apparently waited a few weeks before calling...and it was a few weeks two long, because I can't place his name with his face. THIS, I find to be like Russian Roullette, or more accurately, forcing myself to not judge a book by his cover. He does have one thing going for him though, that in fact, he prefers the cookie to the cream.
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with Carlos* and the kiddos. Tweens are the MOST FUN EVER. I'm surprised at how clever they are, and I love to hear them laugh. We danced, and played and watched a vampire movie (YUCK!!!). This family deserves the best the world has to offer. Being around them, made it hit home HARD I could very easily have a 7-year old, 4-year-old, and 1-year old and they would be coming up on these 'tween ages soon. Where does time go? Can I bottle it and save it for later down the road when I am feeling better? I need to get a prescription for STRENGTH in pill form and be able to take it in order to pick up my pieces and move the hell on. My friend Amelia* from "back home" had posted on her facebook about the ignorance of people giving unsolicited thoughts on her and her husband's family planning. It blows my mind the things people say. I wrote back, "I LOOOOOOOOOOVE it when people tell me these days either "You're so LUCKY you didn't have to have kids because that would just be so damn sad you raising them alone with their Dad sick" or "Well you could still use his sperm and have kids anyway alone because you'd ALWAYS HAVE A PART OF HIM!" ---- FREAKING A. It's either a blessing I'm barren....or I should force myself into single parenthood where we can go visit daddy sick in the nursing home someday! "
These days I am having a hard time grasping why people with perfectly happy lives up and walk away from them, thinking they are going to find something "better" around the corner. I can't fathom why people don't make it work....and why the HELL people who actually ARE happy with their partner end up losing them, to death, illness, injury, or something else completely out of their control, but still leaves them alone the same. I'm not saying I don't understand a master plan....I'm saying I don't understand how people can't appreciate what they have, appreciate their life and the sheer grace that is bestowed on them.
I want my HUSBAND. I want my KIDS. I want my LIFE.
These things ARE NOT fill-in-the-blanks. Mine were stolen from me, and I'll never have them. Why the hell can't people who have theirs in front of them, appreciate them, and quit complaining that their kids leave muddy shoeprints, there baby cries all night, and that their husband leaves the toilet seat up. (Note: I will never marry a man who does this....If you did, I think their is a learning curve you need to give him for his "work in progress" state which is the first five years of marriage....After that, you should be free to pelt marshmallows at him.)
So here I am...4 days into my next 25 years. I think it's only going to get better from here (of course, I don't kid myself when I say things can be worse....HELLO. If you think not, you lack imagination.)
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Tonight is the eve of my birthday...Happy birthday to me
Tonight is the eve of my birthday...Happy birthday to me.
I could reflect back on the last quarter century for days, reliving hosts of memories in vivid detail. Great triumphs and great tragedies have touched my life and counterweigh each other, holding my sanity, hand in hand with my faith, evenly in the middle, never faltering.
I toss and turn at night. I'm actually, fortunately, suffering from what is either mono or chronic fatigue syndrome, which is making my body shut down and sleep 12-14 hours daily whether I like it, or not. I ACTUALLY like it, however my sweet dreams of my dear husband, formerly the icing to my cake and the moment I looked most forward to in the day, have now become nightmares, shaking me deeply to my core, and shocking me into a startled alertness no one should be in at 4 in the morning (shy an alarm clock and multiple redbulls).
Him happy and healthy shakes me, tricking me into thinking even for a moment I have made a mistake, and that he fine, and that I've just somehow gotten confused and he's waiting for me at the diner we used to meet for breakfast after church on Sundays. Hope is a tricky thing, because hope, in these circumstances, is for the foolish. I've been told by so many that "in 20 years, there could be a breakthrough," or, "I know your miracle is around the bend." The truth is....I already had my miracle, when this man entered my life. He changed me, restoring my faith in humankind, love, and ultimately, deepening my love for my God.
Ultimately, I'm sad. This is different from depression. Depression is being sad for no reason...I have a reason to grieve. I try to stay upbeat...I try to find the beauty in any and every thing in order to not focus on the darkness, however you will not see me claiming to be happy...because honestly, I don't want to be "happy...it's too scary of a thought. People say "don't be sad"...which clearly means they've never been truly sad...because you can't flip a switch on the dire straights of utter heartache to turn it off. People who think you can simply "stop" sadness have never had anything to be truly sad about. This also goes hand and hand with my "if you think things can't get worse, you lack imagination" mantra. When I go back in my mind to the "hard" times I had before where I thought life was "over"....that stuff was a cake walk.
My tragedy isn't what is difficult to cope with: my happiness is. The 100% North Carolina Pure Squeezed Happiness is what I struggle with accepting. I'm accustomed to disappointment....I wasn't accustomed to being so damn perfectly happy, and then having my life stolen from me as a casualty of war, and then be expected to believe I should be this way again when I know it is inevitable that it will be lost again. (Call me "glass half empty" if you must....just remember my glass is filled with rum.)
I long for the day I can close my eyes and dream and wake up and have my healthy happy husband there to tell me everything was a horrific dream. I know this day will never come. So, therefore, I long for the day when I will wake to a person there that will, at least, dry my tears and understand that I am a penguin. I mate for life. My heart is shattered, but I've collected the shards in a jar (and they are kind of pretty in a decorative sense) that I will be willing to give to someone in the future. Someone who has experienced a loss of their own of some kind. Someone who prefers records to CD because they just sound so much better. Someone who prefers the Oreo cookie (so I can have the icing.) And someone who is willing (and able) to learn (and sing) all of the words to THE PROCLAIMERS "I'm gonna Be" for me anytime I ask, and in a silly way say "As you wish."
My grandmother asked me what I would like for my birthday...and I can only think of one thing: SOMETHING to get my mind off of reality for a while (that isn't illegal and/or mind-altering.)
Years ago, I spent my birthday surrounded by friends, to include J, and I remember the feeling I had of being alone at that party, but knowing I was completely loved by many, and knowing, if only subconsciencely, that he loved me so dearly....I can't help but cry and miss my love tonight.
Tonight is the eve of my birthday...Happy birthday to me.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
I could reflect back on the last quarter century for days, reliving hosts of memories in vivid detail. Great triumphs and great tragedies have touched my life and counterweigh each other, holding my sanity, hand in hand with my faith, evenly in the middle, never faltering.
I toss and turn at night. I'm actually, fortunately, suffering from what is either mono or chronic fatigue syndrome, which is making my body shut down and sleep 12-14 hours daily whether I like it, or not. I ACTUALLY like it, however my sweet dreams of my dear husband, formerly the icing to my cake and the moment I looked most forward to in the day, have now become nightmares, shaking me deeply to my core, and shocking me into a startled alertness no one should be in at 4 in the morning (shy an alarm clock and multiple redbulls).
Him happy and healthy shakes me, tricking me into thinking even for a moment I have made a mistake, and that he fine, and that I've just somehow gotten confused and he's waiting for me at the diner we used to meet for breakfast after church on Sundays. Hope is a tricky thing, because hope, in these circumstances, is for the foolish. I've been told by so many that "in 20 years, there could be a breakthrough," or, "I know your miracle is around the bend." The truth is....I already had my miracle, when this man entered my life. He changed me, restoring my faith in humankind, love, and ultimately, deepening my love for my God.
Ultimately, I'm sad. This is different from depression. Depression is being sad for no reason...I have a reason to grieve. I try to stay upbeat...I try to find the beauty in any and every thing in order to not focus on the darkness, however you will not see me claiming to be happy...because honestly, I don't want to be "happy...it's too scary of a thought. People say "don't be sad"...which clearly means they've never been truly sad...because you can't flip a switch on the dire straights of utter heartache to turn it off. People who think you can simply "stop" sadness have never had anything to be truly sad about. This also goes hand and hand with my "if you think things can't get worse, you lack imagination" mantra. When I go back in my mind to the "hard" times I had before where I thought life was "over"....that stuff was a cake walk.
My tragedy isn't what is difficult to cope with: my happiness is. The 100% North Carolina Pure Squeezed Happiness is what I struggle with accepting. I'm accustomed to disappointment....I wasn't accustomed to being so damn perfectly happy, and then having my life stolen from me as a casualty of war, and then be expected to believe I should be this way again when I know it is inevitable that it will be lost again. (Call me "glass half empty" if you must....just remember my glass is filled with rum.)
I long for the day I can close my eyes and dream and wake up and have my healthy happy husband there to tell me everything was a horrific dream. I know this day will never come. So, therefore, I long for the day when I will wake to a person there that will, at least, dry my tears and understand that I am a penguin. I mate for life. My heart is shattered, but I've collected the shards in a jar (and they are kind of pretty in a decorative sense) that I will be willing to give to someone in the future. Someone who has experienced a loss of their own of some kind. Someone who prefers records to CD because they just sound so much better. Someone who prefers the Oreo cookie (so I can have the icing.) And someone who is willing (and able) to learn (and sing) all of the words to THE PROCLAIMERS "I'm gonna Be" for me anytime I ask, and in a silly way say "As you wish."
My grandmother asked me what I would like for my birthday...and I can only think of one thing: SOMETHING to get my mind off of reality for a while (that isn't illegal and/or mind-altering.)
Years ago, I spent my birthday surrounded by friends, to include J, and I remember the feeling I had of being alone at that party, but knowing I was completely loved by many, and knowing, if only subconsciencely, that he loved me so dearly....I can't help but cry and miss my love tonight.
Tonight is the eve of my birthday...Happy birthday to me.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
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