Posted in family, Life, writing

Write Like No One Is Reading…

Yesterday, my mother was upset with me. She said that I make her look “Like a monster.” in my blog posts…Although I tend to disagree, for the record, I would like it to be known that my mom is anything BUT a monster. She’s my mom- she’s tried her hardest to be there for me, she’s suffered a lot watching me suffer, she’s loved me no matter what. The last thing I want is to give the impression that she’s been a bad mom.

That being said, I did not have a perfect childhood (who has?). I did not have perfect parents (who did?). There was a lot of ugly stuff that went down, and I can’t pretend it didn’t. When I feel like I need to write about it, I’m going to. Let this serve as a blanket disclaimer, then- I don’t blame anyone for anything. I’m sorry if I write about you and it makes you feel bad- if I’m bothering to take the time to write about you, I must care for you an awful lot. Otherwise, I wouldn’t waste my time.

One of the things I think people appreciate about me is that I am an honest girl. I think the best way I can honor myself  and the people that read the stuff I write is to continue to be myself, which means to be REAL. I like to talk about the things that I don’t always hear people talking about, because I’ve learned that people really, REALLY want to talk about it. They just don’t always know how. So I’m going to write like no one is reading, the way they tell us to “dance, like no one is watching.” I’m not trying to upset anyone. I’m trying to have a conversation with whoever wants to chime in.

In the last three months, I’ve told you that I feel middle aged and fat. I’ve told you that I smoke. I’ve shared with you that I am a recovering drug addict. I told you how much I yell, how much I eat, how much my teenage daughter hates me. I shared with you that I had a miscarriage three years ago, and that I wasn’t that thrilled (at first) to find myself pregnant at the age of 35. Looking at it THAT way, I’d say I’m not exactly painting myself in the grandest of lights, eh? But you guys told me you relate to that! That is reality for a lot of folks (hopefully not ALL of it, for your sake) and it’s the stuff we keep inside of ourselves…it’s the stuff that makes us feel different and shamed and apart from other people. My suspicion is that we ALL are just alike, we all have that stuff- and if we don’t, we just don’t YET.  No one goes through life unscathed.

The point is, I want to connect with people. I have always been this way- I never leave a grocery store without making a new friend. I’m the girl in the  office that you can talk to about ANYTHING, who will share right back with you. Nothing makes me feel better than connecting with another human being on a deeper level. When I write this blog, I want to connect with whoever is reading it. I may not be able to look you in the eye, but I do get to read your comments, here, and on Facebook, and I know that I am doing that.

If it means that I do it because we both had shitty parts of our childhoods, so be it. We made it anyway. If you relate to me because you have struggled with addiction, too- great! We are surviving, right? If you have a brother who is an alcoholic, a daughter that is a nightmare, a puppy who only eats your most expensive shoes, or a boyfriend who cheated on you, broke your heart, and you loved him anyway- guess what? If you read my blog, you will know you are not alone. I am proof positive that ALL of those things can happen in one – not -even-that-long-of-a-life, and happiness is still within your reach.

That is what I want you to take away from my blog. So I’m going to keep writing it, exactly this way. Sorry mom.

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Posted in family, Life, Uncategorized

For My Baby Brother

Right now, you are high above the clouds, in an airplane. Maybe you are sleeping…maybe you are waking up and wondering how, exactly, your life wound up where it is right now. I’m sure that is a thought that has been coming up a lot in the months, the weeks, the hours that came before this flight. I know when I was in the dark place you have been in, that thought plagued me- how did I get here? And it’s twin-how will I ever get back? They wouldn’t leave me alone.

We have spent years and years in this half-relationship. Some of it because of my addiction, some of it because of yours, and some of it just due to time and distance apart. But that doesn’t erase the fact that I have this great and tender love for you, this burdensome thing-you are one of the only people I have a hard time expressing myself to, and one of the only ones I can’t ever seem to find the right words for. This love for you I carry around, it scares me, if you have to know. It seems like you are one of those people always two steps away from being lost to me forever- first, because of our crazy parents, then to your crazy lifestyle…loving someone like you is a study in vulnerability, and that is one role I don’t play too well.

When mom brought you home from the hospital and leaned down to show you to me for the first time, she said “Isn’t he beautiful?” and I thought, ‘My God, NO, he is hideous.” I guess I thought you would be a little older or something, but you were just this wrinkled up little poo-sack with a rotten stump where your belly button should have been. Totally gross.  Then, months passed, and I remember watching you in the back seat of the car- you looked me right in the eye, and my stomach did little flips, and I started to love you.

I loved you, demonic as you were, with your cowboy boots and your white blonde hair. I loved your big green eyes, and your tough attitude, because I knew it would save you. I loved you because you were in it with me, but I wished that you weren’t. The stuff we had to go through, no kid should ever have to see.

I can’t help but wonder how much of that stuff made you into the person you are today. I know it’s useless and pointless to blame anyone for the way we turn out, but it’s an awful shame when the people who are supposed to protect you fall short of the mark. Grown ups don’t see the way that little kids do…I know I was scared all the time, and you were born into a home full of anger and fear. I wish it had been different. For both of us.

I have watched you falling apart for such a long time now. I have heard all of the excuses mom has made, all of thehope she had and then lost, again and again, and I said nothing to you. Every time you called me, you were three sheets to the wind, anyway. Some of those times, I was okay, and some of them, I was in no position to offer advice, if you catch my drift. But every time I hung up the phone, I knew what you were, and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it or change it or fix it. All I could do was let you go and hope you wound up somewhere safe.

It looks like maybe you will. I am so proud of you for getting on that plane today. While you are gone, you are going to learn a lot of great stuff about why you are the way you are, and what you can do to be someone else, a better, more well version of you. You are going to get stronger. When you come home, you are going to have some tools to keep you out of those dark places. You don’t ever have to feel the way you’ve felt for so long now, ever again- if you don’t want to.

You will be in my prayers every single day, and in the meant time, I will write your name on this date, on my calendar. Happy Birthday, brother. I love you with all of my heart.

Posted in Uncategorized

Quick Update

So, I am a far more frequent yeller than I had ever suspected! Try as I might, I have yelled on at least five occasions since the beginning of this little endeavor. I am acutely aware of it now, though, so it should get easier.

My touchiest points seem to be while I am sleeping ( I kicked both the boyfriend and the baby out of “my” bed last night, as the baby seems to think it is loads of fun to head butt me while I snooze- NOT COOL. They were sent on their way with a few choice words) and in the mornings when I have very little control of my temper OR time. Both seem to get away from me with frightening ease.

So, I’m just checking in, letting you know where I am at. I know you are just sitting at your computer, waiting for me to write this, right? So here it is. You can go on with your day now. 🙂

Posted in Uncategorized

Old Yeller

No, not the dog. I’m talking about me, and my propensity towards being rather loud. I come from a family of yellers- my mom is one, by grandfather was one. My cousin Heidi, my Uncle Boogie, (yes, I have an uncle named Boogie. His real name is Fizzle, though, just to clear that up.) the whole mess of us are yellers. Thanksgiving at our house is not for the faint of heart- it is, however, great if you are hard of hearing.

The bad thing about being a yeller is that when you are actually upset (which for me, with my two kids, puppy and somewhat frustrating boyfriend, is often) you have no choice but to kick it up a decibel or twelve. The neighbors always know who I am. I don’t always care for the way they look at me when I am outside- I mean, really. You try living with this bunch of maniacs, sometime. I am actually a really nice person, as long as you don’t know me very well.

The other bad thing about being a yeller is that after a while, no one pays attention to you anymore, no matter how loud you get. “Oh, that’s just my crazy mom again.” Aisley might say to her friend while I am in the kitchen screaming at what a mess they’ve made, or because someone ate ALL of my emergency Goober Grape AGAIN, and put the empty jar back in the cupboard.

I do not discriminate at whom I yell- inanimate objects are just as likely to be the focus of my rants as are the breathing inhabitants of my home. I try not to yell at the baby, since she is, after all, just a baby…but she may have gotten it a time or two, herself. Like when she just will NOT stop putting the dogs food into the water dish, or she refuses to keep her fingers away from the twelve billion outlets in this house. YES, they all have those baby proofing thingy’s in them, but still! I yell at semi-retarded drivers and sometimes at my own car while I’m driving. I yell at my daughter for using my bathrobe as a make-up rag, and for using my razor. I yell at Devon for leaving coffee cups everywhere and not calling me when he’s going to be home late. I yell and yell and yell, and no one is listening. I’ve become white noise.

But I have a solution. I become quiet. Deadly, scarily quiet. This really freaks everyone out. It’s not an easy thing for me to sustain as it is completely contrary to my nature, but I think I could get better at it with practice.

So…Here is my little project. From now until this time next week, I am going to calmly, quietly, go about my business. When I am pissed off, I am going to find another, new way of dealing with it. I am going to scare the pants off of these monkeys I live with.

Do you think I can do it? Do you think it will even be noticed? Hmmm….let’s see!

Posted in Uncategorized

My Worst Fear…

Is actually happening to someone else, just over the hill. She’s the mother of a beautiful teenage girl, just like me- I don’t know her or her daughter, but I know she is beautiful because I see her face every time I turn on the news. Her daughter, Sierra LaMar, is missing. She’s been missing for fourteen days now…FOURTEEN DAYS. Do you know how long that is for a mother, when your child is missing? Every time I start to imagine it, my mind pulls away in fear, and I can’t. I just can’t imagine it.

I joke around all the time about how awful my teenager is- I’m not saying it’s not true, I’m just saying I crack a lot of jokes about what a hormone imbalanced demon she is. There are times, though, when I am in the middle of things with her, and it’s all I can do to keep from snatching her by her neck or popping her right in her rotten little mouth. I am NOT laughing then. There are moments such as those, when I literally cannot come up with one pleasant feeling for that kid, not even pity for her evil little soul ( 😉 ). It’s really hard to live with her, day in and day out, the way she bullies (yes, she really is a bully-she makes everyone completely miserable until she gets her way. That to me is a bully.) everyone in the house.

But I’ll tell you what-I would gladly live with that kid every day for the rest of my natural life if it meant I could rest easy knowing my baby was safe. My heart goes out to Sierra’s parents and family, but more than anyone else, her mom. I just don’t know how you could possibly get through a day of that kind of fear and worry. Let alone fourteen. There is no drug that could calm you down enough. There is no prayer, except an answered one, that could really comfort you. It upsets my stomach just thinking it over.

I know that while Sierra is missing, they don’t really know if she is harmed or even if she is alive. They aren’t really even saying for sure that it’s an abduction- they are calling her “involuntarily missing”, which sounds about the same to me. They found her cell phone a block from where she was supposed to catch the bus to school, in a field. Later, they found her bag in another field, a mile from the first one. I am trying to ask myself this- if my little girl, my Aisley was missing for fourteen days, would I want her found alive at any cost? I don’t mean to me, of course at any cost to me. But to HER. I am not trying to be morbid, I just can’t fathom that you could avoid those thoughts in those shoes…selfishly, I think my answer would be yes. Maybe I’m just crazy enough to think that there is nothing a mothers love can’t fix. Maybe I would just tell myself that, or anything at all that I needed to, for a chance to hold my daughter again, hear her voice, see her smile. Even to hear her scream how much she hates me, even that would be wonderful.

So many children go missing all the time, every single day, more than you can even comprehend when you look at the statistics. Some of them run off, some are stolen by their parents, or other family members for reasons that are usually at least not horrific. Then there are the kids like Polly Klaas who was stolen from her own room during a sleepover by some evil man and murdered, or Christina Williams in Ft. Ord right here on my peninsula, who was out walking her dog and was never seen again until they found her bones years later. I just don’t and can’t for the life of me, understand it. How can a person be so sick and so selfish and so broken inside that they can destroy so many lives? Those children need not have suffered, ever, but at the very least, their suffering ended. What about the ones left behind who must face the rest of their lives with this part of themselves missing, just stolen and destroyed for nothing, no purpose at all? I don’t really believe you can qualify as a human being when you are capable of such things- there is a vital part missing in those people, and knowing they walk among us, blending in, is terrifying.

I don’t really believe in the death penalty for most things- I think being held in prison for every single day of your life is a far greater punishment than death, and I don’t mind that my tax money has to feed those prisoners. Money well spent. But when it comes to pedophiles or people that steal and harm children, I can’t lie, I change sides. My two girls are THE most important people in the world to me, without exception. That’s what being a parent does to your heart. You devote yourself to loving them and caring for them, to shaping them and to letting them show you who they are, and it is the most intimate of bonds- you will find none closer. And a twisted, crazy minded man is going to just destroy all that love and work and hope and dreams for the fulfillment of some urge he can’t control? Well, that guy needs to die. I like to think that usually, God knows what he is doing. I don’t pretend to know what the master plan is. But I can’t help it in situations like these.

I didn’t mean to rant like that, but I guess I did. I ‘m tired and I ought to be sleeping, but this has been on my heart all day today. I hope that those of you who read this and who pray will include Sierra and her family in your prayers. I certainly will- right after I say thank you God, so, so much, that my babies are here and safe. Please keep them that way.

Goodnight.