An Open Horizon

Okay, Okay... so I just wanted to drop a quick note to all my lady friends.

I've noticed a shift in the last year. I've stopped watching talk shows and only read Parenting magazine, so that may be the shift I've seen.... but still. The shift is an empowerment amongst us gals. I partially blame the gay movement. Why? Because you pretty ladies are emerging with your chopped off hair, boy pants and no make up. You are kissing your partners and the world took notice to how damn sexy you tend to be while doing it.



Lesbians are making hetero women realize they were mislead on what "real" beauty is meant to look like. Well, labels aside... you can tell the shift is style. It's kind of 80s grunge and I love it. Our teenagers are showing us adults how it's done. Tegan and Sara are setting a prime example of beauty beyond the magazines. Hell, the phenomenon of the Philippines Transgender Pageant have shown us that the beauty of a women is an open horizon.

So lets take this moment to smile at our beautiful bodies and faces. Let's caress our stretch marks from birth like honor. Let us make cosmo and other fluff magazines sell us health food instead of quick fix creams. Ladies, take a look around you. Skinny isn't in-- being healthy and loving yourself IS!

Now that I have a daughter I realize more and more how critical my mother was of my sister and I growing up. My mother is a bit of a control freak (she's gotten a lot better since my adolescence) so she just wanted us to be like her, which is understandable... but even with that said, I'd much rather my daughter be with the fringe crowd and dress in clothes from goodwill than be with the cool kids in the name brand clothes. It takes more confidence to overcome the Mean Girls than to join them.

In middle school I use to come home and cry for hours because of what was said to me. I would leave the house with my sister teasing me and then spend hours at school hearing about my appearance from others. I'd hear about who was wearing make up and who had sex over the weekend. One of my close friends was going to the tanning bed every day with her mother. I felt consumed with my outsides and it made my insides twist with confusion.

"If I wore lipstick maybe he'll notice me."
"If I wore different jeans maybe she'd be nice to me at school tomorrow."
"If I bought different shoes maybe I could sit with the cool kids at lunch."

By the time I turned fifteen I had already had sex, began painting my toe nails and would spend hours in front of a mirror trying to fix my hair just right. That is entirely too young to have had sex already. I had been sexualized by peer pressures about my appearance. It seems a lot of people don't see that connection. If you start out your child giving them stern gender barriers:

"No, Timmy, only girls play with dolls."

"No, Dana, only boys like the color blue." 

You make them define themselves purely by their gender and not by their interests. You are restricting them from expression and forcing them into roles that are way past due to be shattered.

By forcing your kid into the role of "male" and "female" instead of "baby", "child" and "teenager" you are telling them to act out roles of "female is submissive to her male counterpart" and "have sex to keep your man interested" because those are the examples we are giving our children at home and in the media. If you make your daughter define herself as a girl instead of a person, she'll follow all those Top Girl fashions and Girls Guide to Sex lists. Now, I'm not saying that it won't happen regardless and preteens are already developing their personalities and have their own opinions about things already. I'm just saying-- maybe it'll show our teenagers that finding themselves and loving themselves is more important than finding what's in each others pants?

[Quick Disclosure] I'm speaking purely on personal experience and theory.

Maybe it was because I was raised in a very religious home. Maybe it's because I grew up in a small town and there wasn't much else for young people to do but explore other people's bodies, get involved in drugs or get a job. Luckily, I chose the job route. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and no matter how many showers I took I swore my hair still smelled like cheeseburgers. I didn't respect myself though, I sought love through affection because I knew of no other way. I had been taught that love comes from the outside in, not the inside out. That is what I wish to never impose on my daughter. Why did it take me years in my twenties to realize that I had to love myself first? Why didn't someone tell me before hand?

O yeah, that's right, I was told jesus would make me happy and that's the only way I could find love. Way to give everyone insecurities and not let them trust their own instincts, jesus. What a douchebag. I didn't know of anything else. I was told if I put on my sunday best (outward appearance), gave my heart to god (outside source), and love him first (outside source) maybe I could be happy (inside) the rest of my life. Instead, it took me reversing that list and omitting religion all together before I felt comfortable with myself and began to love myself full on. I worked hard on getting to where I am today with my body. I'm still thirty or so pounds over what I was when I made this revelation but I realize I've had a baby and I don't let a little thing like baby weight make me reconsider my love for myself. I remember what it took to get to where I loved myself and I plan on revisiting those things to nurture my love.

Every relationship needs attention, even the relationship with yourself.

That's just my insight for today. Pass this on to someone you know struggling to find love through someone else. You can love yourself and still want to change things about yourself. Only you should be allowed to make those decisions about yourself anyway.

An Open Letter to my Brother-in-Law and his Mistress

How do I begin a letter to someone that has caused my family such distress in these last few weeks and my dear sister for half of my lifetime? What do I say to begin a blog that I have been forming in my head for days? I've got so much material I'm almost buried in the filth you have so easily tossed my way.

I guess I could address why an open letter. Why I would choose such a public domain for all to see and revisit often? Why would I blog about something so personal and not pertaining to me? I've often said in my blog that my one major rule is to only blog about myself and my problems. This isn't Gossip Girl and I'm not out to whine like a teenager about adult subjects.

Truth is, this is a situation that pertains to me; my mother; my grandmother... my family. You see, when you enter into a family as close as ours, you marry all of us. You become our brother, our son, our grandson and nephew. I was just thirteen when my sister brought you home for the first time to meet us. When you got my sister pregnant that pretty much concreted you in to our family. No matter how that pregnancy happened or how young you both were, that did it. After thirteen years of being in our family how do you expect us to act? My sister has done an amazing job keeping your actions private. Believe what you want but we all had formed our own opinions of you without her validating your worth amongst us.  My mother sobbed because she felt not only robbed of a son but violated through her daughter. I cannot overlook that.

Valentine's Day is for schmucks

Okay, okay... before you just write this off as yet another anti-valentine's blog hear me out.

First off: I think every gift giving relationship "holiday" is complete bullshit. Yes, even anniversaries.

Why? You ask.
Here's why. Those days weigh so heavy on men and Significant Others. Those specificed Hallmark-fuelled days socially sets them up to fail. So much hype and comparisons make for a lot of disappointment.

Sometimes you just need to cry

Learning how to be a parent is exhausting. Not only does everyone have an opinion, throw in some lack of sleep and realizing you haven't showered in a week... all you want to check yourself into the nut house for some quiet time.

A week or so ago I had a moment of, "Don't look back" and then instantly felt guilty.

It had been a horrible day. BabyG woke up consistently every few hours during the night and then at 3am went into an extreme fit. She wouldn't latch on to breast feed in the bed and was punching and scratching my chest and nipples. OUCH! I might add. This form of restlessness means she is DONE with trying to sleep, or at the very least done with being in the bed. I move to the living room and change her diaper (Which always seems to be full). She plays for a few minutes before getting mad again, I lay on the floor and nurse next to her. I dose off on the floor next to her feeling like a mother cat with a kitten. I awake about an hour later to her screams, she had awoken from her little cat nap and was hungry again. I move to the rocking chair and hope to get a bit more sleep out of her. I manage to get a few more hours of sleep with her secured to me by pillows in the chair. Hubby wakes up and playfully kisses me awake. All of my small amount of energy is used to not jump from the chair and strangle him. I was sleeping the best all night and every second is precious.

The entire day is spent nursing every 45mins and listening to screaming if I have to go to the bathroom or fix myself something to eat. I'm so tired the entire day I can barely form a thought. I keep telling myself she's my daughter and I should love her. I'm so lucky to have a baby when so many people all over the world would love to be in my situation. I have some close friends that keep trying and not succeeding. I should be grateful, I tell myself, this is a blessing. Children are a blessing, BabyG is healthy and growing. I search the internet about her nursing habits, I check her temperature, everything is normal. It's a growth spurt, her doctor's appointment was in just a couple days away so I decided to stick it out as long as her temperature stayed normal.

Before I know it the sun has dipped behind the horizon and I'm starving. I had managed to eat a few things that take the less effort possible but we hadn't gone grocery shopping so we needed something and quick because my patience was well overspent.

Hubby gets home and changes into his comfy street clothes and plops down on the couch to play on his phone with little to no response to my inquiry on dinner. This is something new has been doing, the tango of who's going to do what. No hint of moving when a decision is made so it makes me think we're at a stand off. The anger builds behind my eyes and flexes it's muscles, I hand him his angry baby who had been nursing for almost a full hour and said, "I'll go. You stay here. Text me what you want." With that, I was out. I stuck the key in and pushed the button to start the car. I had a surge of excitement as I slowly pulled out of the apartment parking lot. This was the first time I was out of the house without the baby. My self awareness slowly seeped back. My teeth weren't brushed, I looked down and noticed I was basically in pajamas and with a glance in the mirror I see my nasty hair-- When was my last shower? Well, fuck.

I was just going through a drive through anyway, I reasoned with myself. Who cares. I'm still fuming about how passive and "who cares" attitude Hubby had when very obviously I was starving and it would've been nice if he had offered to help me with his daughter. I drove the exact speed limit to expand my time out of the house. "We don't have onion rings," the first place I stopped at tells me through the speaker box. Her attitude was too much. "Fuck this place. Cancel my order." I bark at her through the box. Okay, she had some tude but cussing at her wasn't nice. I thought about apologizing but I knew anything I had ordered in it's place would come with special teenage spit-sauce so I decided to go somewhere else instead. I drive in the opposite direction and decide I need wine. I instantly knew why my BFF use to tell me about drives she would take, just circling around my tiny little town wasting a few hours to blow off some steam. She would just use the time to gathering herself and maybe cry to herself about the recent frustrations.

I parked in front of a department store and cried. I turned the car off and sobbed as loud as my body would allow. People slowly walked by and tried to stare without me noticing. I didn't care. I wanted to scream: "I HAVE A BABY AT HOME, I NEED THIS! SHUT YOUR FACE!" I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and let the tears roll down my nose and drop, drop, drop down into my lap. I shouldn't have cussed at the fast food chick, no matter how snotty she was. Her day was obviously going south as it were. Hell, I may have just projected her being snotty and she wasn't even meaning to sound the way she did. Maybe Hubby wasn't being evasive when he got home? Was I projecting that too? No, he was totally being evasive and avoidy and totally unacceptable. I check the time, I've been gone for twenty minutes at this point. Twenty glorious minutes. I tell myself I'll take a full hour. Yeah, fuck it. I had just fed BabyG before I left so I deserve an hour, she won't be starving.

I even entertained the thought of not going back at all. What would happen if I just took off? I grip the steering wheel with both hands at ten and two. I flex my fingers and close my eyes. I imagined seeing the road slip underneath the car in the night. I picture me driving to Florida and sleeping on the beach then waking up the next day to finish the drive to North Carolina. I just wanted to cry on BFF's shoulder and curl up on her couch in a drunken stupor. Yeah, I could do that. I tried to factor in how much gas money I'd need. Wait. What am I doing? I can't leave my baby, I can't leave Hubby. What would Hubby do with me gone? He'd do fine. I knew he'd do fine. BabyG would be fed formula and Hubby would divorce me and find a beautiful woman that BabyG would call Mommy and forget all about me. I was the deadbeat mom. He was the savior. My stomach turned at the thought of someone else raising my kid. I couldn't do that. I tried to beat myself up about thinking about such an atrocious thing but there wasn't enough room in my soul for more sadness.

I spent a full hour shopping for my wine and just taking laps around the store. It felt nice to walk around unattached. I kept checking my phone and wondered why Hubby hadn't texted me yet. Did he even care I was gone? Whatever, I thought. Maybe he is mad at me. O well, I'm mad at him, I thought. I picked up a few things on a whim and decided I needed a book. Growing up in a small town with a bunch of dumb rednecks I quickly learned that reading was a prime escape when I couldn't physically disappear. I self medicated with wine and a book. I paid for my items and realized I would still need to bring home food. I stopped at a burger place attached to the same parking lot just in time to receive a text message.

Hubby
  -Where are you?
Me 
 -I'm on my way home.

Nothing else. He didn't ask where I had been or inquire more about anything. Augh. As I'm parking I can see in through our open window, he is pacing with BabyG. He stops when he notices me and looks pissed as I'm unloading the bags from the car. I think about getting back in the car and driving off. No, I think, I have to face this. I make my way up the stairs and put some groceries away and pour myself a glass of wine. BabyG's lips were dry and she looks uncomfortable. Hubby drops some guilt on me about how hungry she is. I was only gone two hours. Whatever, I think, who cares? I'm just baby food. I had resigned myself to being an object rather than a person.

"Where is your food?" He asks.
"I decided not to eat." I respond. He just stares at me. I take a seat next to him and notice he's eating french fries, "Are there onion rings in the bag?"
"No."
"Goddammit. The whole fucking reason I went there was because the first place 'didn't have anymore onion rings' Stupid bastards." My rage is way too much at that point. I just lean my head back on the couch and try to shove it all back in the bottle.
"You okay?" He asks.
"No, I'm not." I instantly start crying, his face softens. I unload on him how I felt while I was out.
"You matter too, ya know." He says, shoving fries in his mouth. "You want some?" 
I shake my head no.
"You need to eat. You have to eat. BabyG depends on you. What's wrong?"
I cry a little harder, I only exist so she can. Great. What about me? "I'm just depressed."
He gives me a really long look, I look away but every time I look back he is still looking at me, searching for something to say then he breaks the silence, "Anything I can do?"

It's moments like that, that validate why I married him. Then I realized that if I had left we would've never had that conversation. It's so easy to leave, it's so much harder to stick with it. No matter how easy it is to be in love with Hubby, co-existing with someone and raising a third party is difficult. Juggling each other, work and a baby is hard. Being under the universe's thumb while trying to successfully function is hard.

Reading has helped, by the way. Hubby has started helping around the house more and the next day wasn't quite as hard. Every day it seems like BabyG lays on the floor longer, is happier with more tummy time and some times I even get a little longer between feedings. Every day is different. Some days are a breeze while others are full of challenges. I'm grateful and very lucky to have a spouse that is willing to put forth an effort and help me when requested. He even helps without my request, too. While I have a great support group they are on separate coasts and it isn't an easy drive. None of our friends here have kids and meeting people is hard. I'm glad I didn't leave but now I understand why people do... But leaving is a bad choice, it leaves lots of room for regret. 

Appreciation Day

Let's face it, the original Thanksgiving was new Americans celebrating the fact that they were stronger than the Indians. Poor Indians. I won't go too far into the actual history of this holiday but I feel it is a disgrace to simply overlook such details.

Anyway, everyone is posting statuses on fb about things they are thankful for, or appreciate about their lives. I felt a status would be far too short for my now very full life. All day I was thinking about last thanksgiving. I was newly homeless and living out of my car. My hours had just been dramatically cut at work and my romantic life was pretty much in the shitter. My sister had agreed to let me crash on her couch and half my stuff was in my hometown while the other half was being held hostage by gas prices three hours away. I didn't have a cellphone, was down to my last $20. My life had hit the ultimate rock bottom.
Funny how holidays really make you reflect on your existence like that. I had to be around my entire family and tell them I had failed at life. I had truly given up on life. I picked up an old job at a sandwich shop and started casually dating out of desperation.

I had cashed out on life. 

This thanksgiving I have an apartment, a cellphone, an amazing husband and a daughter on the way. We always seem to have food, gas and enough money for fun stuff too. Even as I sat in the bathroom this morning sobbing because I couldn't be with my extended family today it was hard to ignore the family I have created here. Hubby is everything I have ever wanted but never thought that I deserved. He supported me mentally before he ever needed to financially (even though he offered quite a bit).

Without Hubby and BFF I wouldn't have survived this long. They showed me what love is and what true family means. They have gotten me out of more situations than I'd care to admit. If there were subjects in which to give most thanks for it would be those two. (BFFs hubby by extention, they are both very wonderful people) They are the family I chose and that welcomed me when I felt the entire world had turned their backs to me. No matter how self wallowing and sob story I ever was to them they unfailingly were there for me. 
 

For that, I will forever be in debt to them and will always put then at the top of my "most thankful for" list.

I love you guys.

<3 br="">

We All Want Mental Illness.

Mental illness is tricky business. Most of America is afflicted by it, or hoped to be. I say hoped to be because it seems like every highschooler blog or reality TV show is shoving mental illness down our throats.

"I have OCD"; "I'm BiPolar."; "I'm ADHD"... etc, etc.

Some people announce it like it's a badge of honor. It's their street cred in the life of, "I'm fucked up, now where is my TV show?!" Sadly, people embrace their mental instability instead of trying to mend those mental incapacitates with self-evaluation and self-love.

I like to say I am depressed instead of have depression. Positive feelings are just as natural as negative ones.... it all depends on how you embrace them. I have triggers that set me off, as do most people. Horribly bad medical news from a family member or friend; moving a great distance away from friends and missing out on birthdays/holidays or just working entirely too much. Now, those individually can be triggers as well as stacked. You pile up a few of those and I'm rocky. Once you stack all of them I'm a blubbering baby whos a mega bitch to anyone that might reach out and help. I like to think of my mental break down as that scene in Constantine when he visits hell. It's calm, life slows... and he's sucked into a blustery unpleasantness with demons/negative thoughts sniffing him out and getting ready to attack.

Now, with that said... Everyone is allowed a good cry, an absurd moment... or even an outlandish bitch-mode moment. Everyone is very much entitled. Not saying it's a great thing or it needs to be the new past time but showing emotions are embracing how you're feeling and owning those feelings are when you express them to others. I've discovered that by owning my feelings I feel more power over them. No matter how upset I get or how out of line I am with someone else... Being able to say, "I'm sorry, I got really upset because I haven't had time to myself lately and I feel like life is just smothering the life out of my lately." I owned that feeling, I addressed it and I even apologized (if needed) about that emotion that I took ownership of. Therefore, I felt felt growth within myself and more powerful than that emotion that just took over me. (And maybe can recognize that feeling the next time before I spout off at the mouth.) I smashed that marble and got sent back to earth... got me?

I'm not saying apologizing will get you out of certain situations. If you constantly badmouth someone else because of your own inner turmoil it will be your fault that you can't mend that relationship with that person or that relationship is forever tainted because of your bad vibes. It happens. Best thing for you to do is stay away from that person (Apologizing does still mean something before you leave and may just give that break away from that person time for them to realize that you are able to move forward with a most positive attitude with them. Everything takes time.) and give them space. Let them know you still want to be their friend but at arms length is sometimes best.

But anyway... that's not exactly why I wanted to write this blog. I've just been thinking a lot about all the hate that's being flung around these days. For fucks sake, your Neighborhood Chick-Fil-A hates your gay Uncle Adam. That burns, right? It hurts. It hurts to be hated. It hurts to feel hated. It especially hurts to feel hated by those that don't even know you. No matter what the reason you feel sad or hurt, own those feelings. Don't be afraid to express them. Cry about them, be mad about them... but own them. Their yours. I think if you're able to own your feelings you will be better able to mend that mental instability you have. America isn't about taking responsibility for anything anymore and that saddens me. "Take a pill if you feel sad, it makes you better! Watch out for those sideaffects though! THOSE, could kill you! Not that pill I'm making you take instead of just asking you how you feel."

Blarg.

Well, I guess I'm done ranting for today.

"I don't want to be ANYTHING like any of your exes!!!"

Augh, okay...

So, I'm a girl. Duh. But I must state that for very obvious reasons-- Girls have irrational ideas sometimes. (CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!)

Not wanting to be anything like your current's previous significant others is quite the irrational idea. It's also one that I am quietly struggling with. I'm struggling because I can see the rational side of it.

I'm getting married soon. Also, duh. One thing about marrying one of your close friends is you can recall how ever many years worth of previous significant others they dated freely in front of you. It was shameless because there was only a platonic relationship between you and whoever they brought around. (Well, at least in our case) I knew these girlscoughwomen that he dated before me. I spoke with them, they sought my approval and sized me up accordingly. I have never been intimidated by them and apparently that's intimidating. I, in some cases, got more into their brain than Hubby did. (It's a girl thing) I became their frienemy and got to know them. I remember picking them apart, quite often finding similarities between them and I. Sometimes it was unsettling how my likes were their likes and my hobbies were their hobbies. But then again, a lot of Hubby's likes were my likes and a lot of his hobbies were my hobbies.

Obviously things would stack with who he chose to date as well. Again with the duh

Now that I am romantically involved with him my angsty twelve year old hormonal self can't help but peck at my brain with all the usual paranoid ideas. If you are even slightly aware and female (Or male, I guess?) you know what I'm talking about. Those paranoid ideas just bubble up from within and you have to mull over them and shoot them down or address them aloud if they feel justified enough. Also, getting married isn't child's play. Marriage is not taken lightly by me and my relationship with Hubby is very much adult. I've known him long enough I was more than aware of who I was getting myself involved with. (Translation: My qualms in this post have nothing to do with him directly, I also know he religiously reads my blog, so I have to put that out as clear as possible. This is me just being a vagina.)

But anyway, I know a lot of girls feel this way. Correct? The whole: "I'm nothing like his exes, I don't even see what he saw in them!" Yeah, that. Well, ladies, I'm sorry to break it to you but that is quite irrational. Although I do want to say that all cases are different and you very well may be in one of those glorious "I'm completely unique to those of their past" things. Let me break it down.

People tend to stick with what they know:
If they grew up around intellectual types they will tend to date college graduates or someone with a prestigious career. If someone grew up primarily around a specific race or creed they will tend to date someone of that religion or skin color. If they reallyreally loved their mother or father they will tend to date someone resembling them. Or if they really hated their mother or father they will tend to date those that resemble nothing of them. That's the same with those that have a passion for something and they tend to surround themselves and date others with that common passion.

People tend to date what they like:
If they like poets, they will primarily date poets. If they would prefer red headed gym fanatics, they will stick as close to that as possible... Let's say Person A dates 10 people in their life time. Person A is a guitarist that prefers blondes that are also artistic in some way and loves dogs. It's safe to say Person A had 7 out of 10 that have lighter colored hair; likes dogs and either plays an instrument or does some sort of artwork either as a job or a hobby. Sounds logical to me.

If you've dated "it" before and loved/hated "it", then you will/won't date "it" again:
"It" being something: a trait, a hobby, a defining character of someone. Think: "I dated that guy Jake and he loved to go to the gym. I think it mellowed him out otherwise, so now I dig guys that go to the gym." So then you tend to date athletic people. Athletic people appeal to you. No shame, right? In that same way: "I dated this red headed chick Sarah and she was such a bitch and made all my friends don't want to be around me anymore if she was around. I refuse to date a girl named Sarah or red heads. She was a teacher too, no more teachers for me!" Same idea but on the negative instead of positive. Either way you are getting specific about the type of person you want to get romantic with. Also, no shame.


To the core I seem to reflect Hubby's taste in women. Visual appearances aside, I share a lot of their likes and hobbies as well as some of their personal/political views on things. Which makes sense. Being a vagina about it is letting that leave a nasty taste in my mouth and make me feel like a blow up doll with a common filling.

Since I am being a positive thinker and adult: I like to think of me being all the best qualities he found in previous girls all wrapped up in his favorite shaped box.... with my unique quarks and neurotic habits thrown in!

This theory works in both directions too, ya'know.

I want both.

Ten days. One Zero. Ten. Ten days and I get to wake up next to him, cuddle him during a thunderstorm and nag him when I'm feeling bitchy. Sigh I cannot wait! I can tell that he's excited too, since his smiles are bigger on Skype as of late.

"You're going to miss those babies!"
I keep hearing from... well... everyone. It's true too. The twins I babysit have quickly become my entire life. My reason to get up in the morning, my smile when I feel like crying as well as my hair-pulling, snotty nosed cry babies when I'm already at my wits end. They cry when I walk out of a room, they make me feel needed.... they snuggle me close when they're feeling bad. I'm going to miss those little bobble heads like no other. It's not just the twins though, I'm going to miss their older sister, their mom, their dad, their Mama C and PawPaw. All of them. This family has been with me through the thick and thin. They have given me a place to stay when no one else wanted me. This family has given me a job when I was scraping by at a sandwich shop. This family has done absolutely everything for me, without hesitation, without asking for anything in return. Leaving them breaks my heart. I can't help but cry at the idea of leaving them at all much-less in need. The boys are still too young for daycare and too expensive to have in daycare, anyway. The boys don't like strangers but they took to me the first time I met them. Their older sister asks if I'm out of the house for longer than twenty minutes. I feel more apart of this family than I have any family, ever. Yes, even my own. They accept me for who I am and always wish me the best. They have showed me unconditional love (Not required by blood relation) and now I have my chance at also creating a family of my own. It's the dilemma of a life time. I've tried not to think about it. BFF (The twin's mom) and I don't speak about it... It's the elephant in the room that no one wants to acknowledge. I worry about them thinking I'm abandoning them. Is it too selfish to leave now? But staying hurts too. I feel like I'm happy with a thorn in my side. It's like gnawing my arm off to live another day. I want both things equally. To stay and be apart of this family and to go and start my own with someone who I've always had a very strong emotional attachment to.

I want both.

I want both.

I want both.

I've been going through the motions since I got back from my short visit to Louisiana. Sometimes I'm in the moment [with normal every day routine] and I'd think, "I've got to remember this, take a picture, cherish it... I'm about to move" and it still wouldn't feel real. As I'm nearing the single digits on my countdown, the realization has settled heavy somewhere in my pelvic region. (You know, where IBS lives.) I feel like it's a backpack when I run, a fly in my ear as I play with the boys and a heavy beating drum when I'm hanging out chatting with BFF. I don't feel doubt in wanting to live and be with Hubby, I feel guilt for being happy. Does that make sense? How can I be happy about something that will be taking me away from this new family that has stood by me for so long? Guilt because I've lost friends along the way and it doesn't bother me. Guilt because I'm so happy and quite frankly, I'm not sure I care who I lose in the process. (Well, accept the twins and their family. Everyone else can go fuck themselves for all I care.) Hubby means that much to me.... I hear that's suppose to prove you do have real love. The fact that the ones that matter supports us the most seems to be the shining factor.

This isn't a thinking decision, this is a decided matter. It's finally sunk in. It's real. This isn't a fantasy anymore. This isn't a day dream on a hot summer day in Greensboro... or a last thought before drifting off to sleep in the middle of winter....

This is real.

Holy shit, is it real.

Hopeful, not hopeless.

It seems like every blog I make recently it's to defend myself for one reason or another.

I find myself single, once again. This time I don't even blame myself at all. I have no idea how something that seemed so sound and so solid could suddenly be cold and transparent.

I struggle to mourn the loss of another failed relationship. Maybe I'm repressing those feelings? Maybe I just don't care? Maybe he wasn't worth it to begin with? Eh, those are all questions that don't need answers...

My self worth is fine but my confidence in others is greatly lacking. I know what I'm good at
I know I'm an excellent "ladyfriend"
I know I can make someone the happiest they've ever been.


It's just a matter of finding someone who wants to accept me for who I am, that has enough confidence in me and our connection... And will respect me. That's a major one. It's so hard to find someone that can step up to the plate and be willing to compromise and blend with someone else.

A couple days ago I realized I'm more of a lover than I've allowed myself to acknowledge. I guess I don't want to be the hopeless romantic that is perpetually hopeless. I'm on the eve of my 25th birthday. I want an adult life. I want to share that adult life with someone else. No drama. No questions and lies... Just love. I'm not holding my breath over it, but I am hopeFUL as of late.

I am "talking" with someone.. That isn't exactly new... But is a prospect I overlooked for awhile. I'm interested in how it may unfold. When it does leak I think my entire hometown will implode but I won't be here for the backlash...


I will be elsewhere, enjoying my new life.

Break-Ups

I strongly feel that the universe sends signals.

Recently I seem to have been over-exposed to people very, very broken after a break-up.

Now, I realize that everyone handles breakups quite differently. Not everyone cries, not everyone is heart-wrenchingly upset. Not everyone finds it debilitating after someone leaves them out of personal choice-- rather than death.

The few break-up stories I have been exposed to recently (all on podcasts, btw) the person is borderline sobbing and could easily be misunderstood as someone who has recently had someone die. These people have been grieving the death of a relationship for the better of a year (or more) and the tears roll down their faces like the funeral was yesterday-- not full calender months ago.

I am truly take aback and puzzled at this. Yes, I've had really bad breakups. Yes, from previous posts you can see that I am still hanging on to someone from (kind of) more than a year ago... but I don't break down in tears when someone mentions her name or sob uncontrollably at the thought of her with someone else. I do recall being inconsolable for a certain amount of weeks and sobbing for hours to the songs, "Wait it out" by Imogen Heap & "Call it Off" by Tegan & Sara... and after throwing myself into a (horrible) rebound relationship with someone quite terrible I found myself retreating across city lines trying to escape from her. (and it still not being enough)

As I listened to 3 separate podcasts express ideas, stories and songs about being broken up with I tried to remember being that emotional about someone else. I tried to muster up that type of pain deep inside of me. 

I got nothing.

The jury is still out on the cause of this lapse in memory but I assure you that I've been quite sad before. In middle school I was burdened with being 'the weirdo' and 'the bitch'. I was mistreated at home so I would go to school and take it out on my only friend. (That friend has since never truly, in her heart, forgiven me for how I treated her, even after much apologizing and it being over 10yrs ago... but I can't really blame her) I remember praying to whom-ever could hear my cries to just take the oxygen from my lungs and let me die so then maybe someone would at least pretend to have loved me. I was so very sad-- but that never seemed to involve someone else. I always figured they justifiably didn't want me. (I guess that still lingers a bit today)

Have I avoided being hurt (honestly hurt) by someone by my own depression? I would also like to point out that I am terrified at the thought of a 'forever' with someone else. It seems like an alien idea. I say this and then remember the jealousy I have over the coupled people who live together and seem to be in that 'forever' situation. I've always been a 'for right now' type of gal. The one (legit) time I saw myself in a forever situation I got dumped for a curious-but-straight bimbo... so let's just say the feeling comes and leaves in the same second.

I've been reallyreally upset about a girl not wanting me or giving me the run-around and songs that remind me of them. I've lost friends to death or decision and they seem to impact my heart strings quite a bit... but the ones who have died always get the tears as oppose to just the 'I miss them' feeling.

Maybe it's because I have had so many people close to me leave me by death. Those that leave by decision always have hope left and when there is hope there is healing. I can never have another conversation with my deceased friends to end our radio silence. I can never mend what was broken--- But my alive friends: I can email, facebook, tweet, phone call and txt my way back into their good graces. (Or at least attempt to) So being abandoned by decision just feels open-ended. Anything can happen. They are still alive and maybe think of me sometimes, even miss me on occasion-- this goes for exes as well. To mourn the loss of a relationship like the opposing person is dead just seems a bit silly to me. I reserve my ultimate sadness and regret for a situation that is the only 'forever' situation I can seem to see myself in-- death; the deceased.

Then, here comes my next revelation-- Those who thrive in sadness.

Such beauty has come from individuals bitten by the sorrow bug. Some of the greatest songs ever sung would have never come to pass if they had not relished in the feeling of woe. They held hands with sadness and sang it a lullaby. They sobbed over canvas and their fingers bled as they formed the right notes, the right paint, the right instrument to express the hurt, love and longing. Long elaborate poems and plays were written in the search of closure from the pain and anguish from a lost loved one. (decision or death) These beings got comfortable with their pain and made a home in it, enjoying the feeling. They believed that no one else would bring them such joy (or sadness) like those whom have left them.

Love and pain are so passionate and so close in relation. They are brother and sister, as both are very different but came from the same beginning. Its for you to decide which is more unhealthy or unstable. Which is worth the risk. Break-ups suck, being turned down isn't fun.... But finding someone worth feeling for can be a rare but beautiful thing.

I say embrace what makes you satisfied-- whether it be tears or affection.

xoxo,

SallyD

Hooray for Earth

Yet again, another tune, on repeat... for hours. I really love this song. I cannot for the life of me find the damned lyrics but I'm PRETTY sure it goes something like: "This time no love is what I need / but I want to, want to learn. / I want to want to learn" and that part reallyreallyreally jives with me. It's suck to me and got caught in my hair like a spider web. (In a far less annoying terrifying way) I have to listen to it twice every time it plays.

Okay, it's official... I have a love affair. With the rowing machine. I love it. I was on it for quite some time today. I can get all the aggressions out. I can feel it everywhere: legs, arms, abs.... Also, I feel it after I leave. I hate leaving the gym and not feeling SOMETHING! It makes it a waste otherwise.

Today at the gym I had a theme that I kept reminding myself of, that theme was:

Do something different.

I started out my normal slow start/hard finish 1 mile on the treadmill and I did the mile in 9mins. Impressive (for me) but not good enough. I miss my 6min 1 miles. I need to get that back. It means running at the 7-8ish mph thingy which you REALLY have to move your ass so you won't fall over or break something... but I'm warming up to it. Then I did some stretches and decided to do things differently. I walked around and attempted some new machines I've never even seen before... did the rowing machine, and then decided to ask the nice lady behind the counter for a basketball. No one was on the court so I thought it was safe to make a fool of myself.

I played a lot of basketball in my preteens... A LOT! After baseball (being too old to be accepted into the boy teams anymore, everyone wanted me to play softball) I needed to find something and basketball was it. Although I loathed playing with the girls. Girls (at that age) are so damn prissy and "Don't hurt me" and the boys would plow me over, help me up and then we'd just scamper off after the ball together. I played basketball with the boys during school hours in gym class (Even though the gym teacher thought I was just trying to flirt with the boys instead of get away from the girls whining) and the community basketball teams had a good diverse group and most of the girls in the team weren't prissy. Then I got too old for it and HAD to get into softball.

But anyway...

I played 15mins of bball today and it was great. I chased the ball and quickly remembered some stuff from "way back when" and it was great. I was kind of sad that there was no one in the gym after a couple minutes. Even though I wouldn't make a lot of points... it would be nice to "fight" for the ball. I love street ball. I kind of miss it. My cousin breathes, eats, loves, basketball. He's obsessed. If I ever was like, "Hey, meet me at the gym in five for a pick-up game" he'd be there, no questions. He didn't even care that I was such an easy win. Obviously I was no match for him in a game he worships.... but it was still fun. He'd even let me win sometimes. (to encourage me to keep playing, I think) My arms are so sore from just 15mins of solo shooting. I need to get back into a sport pronto. It'd give me something to look forward to.

The steam room was getting cleaned so it kind of messed my routine up but I did as many laps in the pool as my arms would allow (which wasn't much) and then I eased my way into the hot tub. I had this calming wave come over me and I smiled to myself. Today will be a good day. So far it's been great. I came home, sat on the front porch and ate while I read. My roommate got up and took me to get coffee. I got a raspberry iced tea and the lady gave me a 31oz cup "because we only have one left!" for the price of a venti. There was a cute chick on the patio that I got to look at for a little while when my roommate and I sat out there chatting before coming back home. It was nice.

Now I'm about to hop in the shower and attempt to be girly for work. Maybe do my hair... I'm not feeling the make up today though... I can't wait until I get rid of my stinkin' glasses. This month, hopefully, I can pay off my car... mostly. Then next month I can take a big chunk out of what I owe for rent and by November I should have everything paid off.... (Including my new computer) And then hopefully by Jan or Feb I should have my own place. Either a 1 bedroom or a roommate and I situation. Hopefully a 1 bedroom, I REALLYREALLY want to live by myself. I'm tired of having roommates.... in general. I'm better by myself. I may not even be in Greensboro by February... I have no idea.

Okay, work now.

Blessed Be,
SallyD