Becoming A Better Version Of Myself

This is my motto for the next few months - Become a better version of Me. I know I took a long break from writing this summer. I had a job, I was dating, I had my kids and the usual ex drama-trauma-rama to deal with. But I'm back. I took a deep breath and now I'm ready to get back in the saddle again.

Goal #1 - Become A Competent Engineer

School is going GREAT. For the first time in my life, I am attempting six classes with a total of fifteen credits and staying on top of it. (I realize that this isn't a huge feat for many people, but for me this is like climbing Mt. Everest). I found some study buddies who encourage me and make me accountable for my work. I also decided that more than spitting fire back and forth with my least favorite professor, I want to become a competent engineer. I got a tutor, I am making it a point to study and read and study some more, and I am determined to show up on time to every class. Four successful weeks down, eleven or so to go. 

Goal #2 - Become A Girlfriend Worth Keeping

I also found a guy who, so far, is everything I've dreamed of and more. Smart and educated, handsome, fun, creative, spontaneous, caring... what more could I ask for?? [insert starstruck face here]. It's only been a few months, and I will openly admit that I am almost too boggled to just let it be. I know I posted before about not knowing what to do with a man who treats you kindly, and that is exactly what I am suffering from. This man has expended so much time and effort on me the last few months. I'm trying so hard not to take this for granted, and to find something to offer, but for some reason I feel inadequate. Maybe inadequate isn't the word... it's more like I'm lacking focus. He touches me and I'm immobilized. He says kind things to me and I don't know how to respond. I have never said 'thank you' so many times in my life, which I believe is a good sign. I have a lot to be thankful for with this one. We have so much to talk about, and I feel at ease around him. I wake up missing him in the middle of the night, my chest physically aching. I'm tempted to add this guy to my spreadsheet of Not-So-Charming Princes just to prove to myself - on paper - that I did find it all. If anyone in this relationship is the better half, it's him.

So how does this pertain to becoming a better version of myself? First off, I am practicing not cussing like a sailor, and I'm practicing saving my filthy jokes for girls' nights. I'm trying to regain my focus so that I might offer a light touch and a kind word in return. I'm learning what real men do, and how it feels to be treated well, and I'm learning to be truly grateful for a man. Damn, now that is a step forward for me, and I'm grinning ear to ear just typing it.

Goal #3 - Become A GREAT Mom

I bit the bullet and decided to rid my life of some stressful clutter. I got rid of the 'nice' car and paid cash for an older car that gets awesome gas mileage. I also filed papers to modify my custody arrangement. Got an awesome attorney behind me and ready to fight this battle til it's won. My kids deserve stability. They deserve consistency and a mother who isn't always running around like a chicken with her head cut off, scraping for money and stressing about the little amount of time we get to spend together. It's all about the stability and routine for us. 

Goal #4 - Plan Ahead

It seems that every semester we run out of student loan money about 5 weeks before we're due for another installment. Last winter was especially stressful at Christmastime, and if it weren't for a miracle in my family, my son would not have had anything in his stocking. So last week I decided to buy all my kids' Christmas gifts and withdraw enough quarters to do our laundry through the rest of the year. That way, if we run out of money on December 1st, at the very least my kids will have Christmas presents and we'll all have clean underwear :D Go, Me!!

The Problem With Being Beautiful and Strong Is. . .

The problem for me is I've heard how beautiful, talented and smart I am, my entire life. You may think; "Lucky you, I've been ugly, talentless and dumb my whole life!" Than I would point out to you how you were wrong. I would show you ways that you excel, and areas of your life that possibly need improvement, but that does not under-value you as a woman. I have found that when you ask for advice someone is always ready with answers, that doesn't mean those answers will be the correct solutions for your life.
             Would you rather rent a home or buy? Would you rather get a new puppy or an old dog? Would you rather listen to others, or listen to yourself? Whatever answer you are attempting to find in your life I believe the voice of reason has little to do with what others have to say. I have let the voice of my family, God, and my friends rule my life. I have listened to friends that told me to stay in a relationship that wasn't working, and I have listened to my family when I wanted to get out of my marriage long past the expiration date. There is only so much of the wrong advice a girl can take on her journey to womanhood. There are no easy answers. 
              The problems that come with making decisions for yourself are hard to foresee. You may work a job where you believe the people are honest and hard-working, and you wanted to excel badly to add to your bottom line, not for yourself, but for your child. You wanted more than anything to be able to take him to the places he wants to go and help his dreams come true too. You keep getting stuck, hung up on an ex-husband who is hell bent on controlling your life, and has been successful at doing just that. So you start to do what any rebellious teenager with strict parents would do, and you rebel. You push back! After ten years of control, violence and fear, you push back, you let him know that he needs to go FUCK HIMSELF because he never was good in bed anyway, and just because he likes to have affairs, and lie and cheat and steal it doesn't make it okay does it? Just because he has a smart fancy-pants lawyer that he thinks will solve all his problems, you know things about him that will BURY THIS MAN. You fantasize about all the ways you could bring him to justice, and you know that even though you'd like too MURDER IS NOT AN OPTION, even though he's plotted your murder several times himself. You learn to live fearlessly and unafraid of consequences, but that doesn't mean you'll abuse the privilege.
             When you are beautiful and have a natural full bust, nice ass, and long blonde hair, someone will always tell you, that you're beautiful. The men you refuse to sleep with will always call you a whore, a tease, a bitch, a cunt. You decide whom you believe. Just because you sleep with attractive men you may or may not love, it doesn't make you a whore. Whether or not you've ever slept with someone your entire life doesn't exactly make you a virgin either. The parameters are vague, at best. You decide who you let in your life and what to do with the consequences that follow. You decide how to let that beauty shine, or dull it down. You decide to have cleavage or wear a turtle neck. You decide whether to grow your hair long and blonde for your husband or chop it short and dye it black for yourself. YOU DECIDE. You stop listening to everyone who assumes they know you because they've watched you grow up, but they weren't there inside your mind or your body were they? They weren't the ones living with the guilt, the shame, the fear, the horror of the "secrets" you were told to keep. They weren't the ones living with the burden of raising a child on their own, hurting from exhaustion, guilty from sins that were not their fault, and trying desperately to rise to the top.
            No one will ever understand you, so don't waste your breathe, why even try? No one will understand how you can be beautiful, fearless, and forgiving all at the same time. No one will ever accept all of you in your fullness and glory, no one will truly "get it." Lots of confusion will follow, lots of drama, lots of fear, because sometimes you make the wrong choices too, cause let's face it, you are human after all. You may unintentionally hurt those that you love the most because they are unintentionally hurting you, and you may decide to be afraid of the things you have no control over. You may decide to marry a man you truly love and those who love you the most, sabotage it for you. That still doesn't mean you'll ever shut up, no it doesn't. It means you sing Adele's Rolling in the Deep with fever when the song says: 'And I'll lay all your shit bare.' You learn to sing softly and quietly with Sara Barielles when she sings: 'I've got a glass-caged heart you can see right through, I'm just a basket case, without you. He's not a magic man, or the perfect fit, he had a steady hand, and I got used to it, I'm not an open book you can riffle through, I'm just a basket case, it's what we do. . .' You may also sing at the TOP OF YOUR LUNGS along to Halestorm's 'Here's to us;  Here's to love, here's to us,  all the times that we fucked up, here's to you, raise the glass, cause the last few days have kicked my ass, here's to you, raise your glass, tell em' go fuck themselves HERE'S TO US!'
              No matter how many cuss words you drop, or how many tattoos you get, or how many times you change your life and your hair, you still love God. In your mind, he loves you too, it brings you comfort to know that no matter where you've been, you're still going on that journey, and you'll get back to him one day, but for now, you've got to let your hair blow in the breeze and get through a lot of shit, and drown out the words of others and only look ahead, cause looking behind will scare you, and looking too far in the distance the horizon starts to get hazy. . . so you just keep moving, and you learn to live life your own way and take it at your own pace, cus it's not about anyone else living it for you, it's about your own story, and being accountable for the conclusion in the end. Best Wishes and love to all that have supported me along the way, all my single mom friends, my family, even though we've had our hard times, The Millionaire MatchMaker, and my CD collection, Steve Jobs, and Family Services Alliance, and my son who is my light in the darkness, my strength when I am weak, my SUPERHERO, I love you more than you could ever know, more than you could ever understand. It's not over yet, we're nowhere near the end.
 

Hope Moves You Along

I have been thinking a lot about lesson’s learned.  Why things are the way they are, and how things are constantly evolving.  I have learned that the only thing constant is change. The only thing permanent in this life is change. How you continue to handle the change and evolve and continue to move forward is up to you. These are the lessons I've learned:

                Eventually you learn that your future may not always look like everyone thinks it should. You learn that opportunities present themselves, everyday. You learn that even though you have things to be afraid of in your life, you don’t have to let those fears confine you or restrict how you live your life. You learn that no amount of guns, ammunition, dead bolts, and steel bars can keep you safe, and you learn how to hide in plain sight. You learn that you don’t need someone to tell you what to think, because it’s how you think on your own that matters.  You learn that no amount of roses makes up for true gratitude and no amount of sorry’s really means true forgiveness if the apologizing party still continues to break your heart. 

             You learn that anger is a secondary emotion to whatever you are really feeling and that when someone makes you feel agitated, frustrated and isolated, there is always a reason. You learn where your past ends, and your future begins. You learn to take the necessary steps to rebuild your life. You learn to get up from the floor where you’ve been crying in a puddle of your own tears and make a new life. You learn that your future may not look like you thought it did and race does not confine you. 

          You learn that what other’s think of your life and how you choose to live it does not matter. You learn to make a new path on your own terms, your own merits, playing by your own rules. You learn to take the parts of life that are good from the situations that are bad, and move forward. You learn to talk to the people that care, the people that matter, the people that listen. You learn to advance. You learn progress, you learn to listen, you learn to recognize. You learn to relate to the parts of other’s stories you can relate to and rewrite your own. 

         You learn to pick up a hammer, a nail, and some new paint and you begin to rewrite the chapters of your life. You begin to recognize what takes work, and what will be easier. You learn to recognize that life is all about proverbial hammers and nails, and fictitious buckets of paint. You learn to manage. You learn to compartmentalize. You learn to cry in the shower on bad days so your children don’t hear you, and you learn to celebrate with them and get ice cream on the good days because they don’t come around all too often.   

         You learn that sometimes even though everything looks fine on the surface, it’s not fine, and men will continue to hurt your heart. You learn that even though you would like to go through life with a knee-jerk reaction to the groin of every man that’s ever hurt you, you learn that walking away takes strength, and staying and fighting is sometimes the harder option. You learn that diamonds are not a guarantee and even though someone offers you one, and tries to help you rebuild your life, it’s not the same vision.  You and your partner are standing in front of a blank canvas and you need to be on the same page to paint the best possible portrait of your life together. 

          You learn that beauty comes from pain just like the artist Van Gogh created beauty in his “manic phase,” and that even though we are not cutting the ears off of our problems and mailing them to our lost loves, you begin to understand why he may have done that. Did she not listen to you? Did she not hear what you had to say? Were you not being heard, were you painting to escape your fear? How do you take the shit that’s been dealt to you in life and begin to use it to fertilize your garden and share the blooming flowers with others. You learn that even when someone tells you in an accusatory tone to “take it easy,” or “give it up,” you never will. You learn you have a warriors spirit and the fire inside of you will not be extinguished. You learn how to use what you have to get where you’re going. You learn to overdraw your checking account when you need to, and make a plan for repaying it. You learn that every purchase matters, and even though you may not have the money to live within your needs, you’ll still find a way. 

             You learn to make it look so easy from the outside. You learn to use what you have for what you need, to get ahead, to move forward, to plan accordingly. You learn that there are few men capable of holding the hand of a woman so strong that she does not need a man, but she want’s one.  You learn that not every man has your best interests at heart, even though he says he loves you, and is promising the world.  You learn that even though you want to move forward and see a way through the maze, you have to have the strength to ask for the help you need, but that doesn’t mean that you have to take the help that is given. 

It doesn’t mean that the help will not come, it means that it may not be the best solution for your life at the time. 

             You learn that even Holocaust survivors share a part of your story, because they could be beaten and bloodied, brain-washed, starved, and left for dead, but that in all that pain, and all that sorrow, you stand up, and “brush the dirt off your shoulders” like Jay-Z told ya, and move the hell on with your life. You learn that fear is not getting you anywhere, and pain does not produce consequences if you aren’t listening to the right voice. You learn to rebuild and move forward. You wipe the slate clean however many times you need to and mess up, fail, fall forward and write with permanent marker as often as you need to also. You learn to give yourself permission to fail. You learn to try to paint accurate pictures of your life for people with as much detail as needed so that they can make the right decision for you. 

              You learn that even someone having a bad day somewhere can royally fuck with your life. You learn when to shut out the voices that don’t matter, and listen to the ones that do. You learn to never be silent, to never be afraid, to never back down, to be in the face of all your problems. You learn to try to pick up the pieces of your life in the ways that matter to you. You learn to listen to hope, shut out fear and distraction and stop falling down. You learn that even when you do fall down, scrape your knees, bruise your shoulder, cut your lip; you learn to wipe away the blood, squeeze your eyes to the tears and keep moving forward. Cause there is good stuff at the end, there is good stuff along the way. There is sunshine to be scattered, and hope to be found, and light to be shed in the lives of others. You learn to listen to your sixth sense because it guides you. You learn to listen to your intuition because it is sacred. You learn to hold out for the things that are worth waiting for even though rushing into them seems like the perfect solution. 

           You learn that the wedding of your dreams is possible, but that the groom may be negotiable. You learn that prices are negotiable, and the way you pay for things along the way is being nice, and the currency that is always there is hope and gratitude and peace. If you find a way to help others get to their peace of mind, their solace, their  “sunshine,” they will always find a way to repay you with kindness. You learn to do the right thing, to never walk on anyone, to have hope along the way. You learn that even though you are down to your last $10 and you need that $10 to put gas in your car to drive to the store to buy ramen noodles for 17 cents a package, you still have a way to earn more. 

         You have a way to answer the cries for help, you have some solutions to offer along the way. You learn that even though others may think you are having a nervous break down,  because you are yelling and screaming for what you know is right, you know yourself enough to know that because it is what is right, you get angry, you scream, you yell, and you move the hell on with your life. You learn that the solutions that are fixing every one else’s problems may not be the solution to fixing your own. You learn how to stay up all night when you need to—to get things done, and sleep for 12 hours at a time on the days you need to sleep, because even though that doesn’t make sense to any one else, it makes sense to you. You learn that even though you forgot to write your 5 page Essay for your Advanced English course in high school because some domestic violence happened at home, that kept you from writing your paper; you have an English teacher who believes in you, and knows you’re a good writer; a decent person, and she wants to help you develop your voice too.  

            You learn that even though you did not share that part of your life with her, she can see the fear in your eyes, the worry, the intent. So she gives you another day to complete the assignment and another day is all you needed, because you got an ‘A’ on the paper. You learn to recognize the people that knock you down, and the ones that help you stand back up. You learn that even though you had to take regular English, your junior year of high school because you did not understand how a syllabus worked, because no one ever taught you and you failed one semester, does not mean that teacher understands where you are in your life. You learn to move to a regular English class and accept the ‘B’ because you knew you could do better but the violence at home would not stop. You learned to switch to an advanced English class your senior year, and excel in that class and move forward with hope, perseverance and faith.  You learn that the Summer before college spent worrying about college is no Summer at all, and who wants an ulcer anyway?!

            You learn to talk to people in your situation that share your story and how to move forward with the skills that you have. You learn to be brave, to be skinny when you have to, to be fat when you have to, to accept yourself for your faults because other’s will too. You learn to feel good about life. You learn to only reason with reason itself and to not back down or go quietly into the night. You learn that age has no bearing on maturity and love truly knows no boundaries. You learn to listen to your heart, regardless of what the cynics say, and to violate the law when the law is wrong, and stay strong when others are telling you, you might go to jail. You learn to hope. You learn to find hope in your own situation and help others find hope in theirs too. You learn how a new coat of paint and a new pair of shoes are enough to help someone else rebuild their life. You learn what you can from what you know, you learn how to be a philosopher and an entrepreneur, and a philanthropist when you have your heart in the right place. Reason will tell you differently, fear will try to bind you, hope will find it’s way.  Hope is the flower that grows up through the sidewalk cracks even though reason tells it not to, hope is the rhythm that moves all of us along. Heaven can be a heart beat away, pain can be pushed aside, and the characters of our lives can be rewritten. Good friends will find you, safety will find you, and hope will move you along.

Victim or Survivor?

Remember one of my recent posts and how I talked about fight and flight responses? Nature will tell you it is the most common response for animals in the wild to fight or flee when confronted with a dangerous, overwhelming circumstance. That’s why certain animals have protective coloring, sharp claws, teeth, and can run 25 miles per hour. I don’t have sharp claws, teeth, and the only way I am willing to run, is if my life depends on it. My lack of protective coloring and razor-sharp claws however does not keep me from fighting or fleeing. Dangerous overwhelming circumstances happen in my life every day. I have an ex-husband who makes it very hard for me to think clearly. He has done everything one person can do to another to make me feel trapped, afraid and overwhelmed. I have tried my hardest over the past decade to keep my sanity, stay alert, keep my son safe and decide whether or not to fight or flee. I have done both.

When I was married to The Mistake I chose to fight, chose to stand by him, listen to him, try to understand him and ‘work things out.’ I went to marriage counseling, I read books about men and women and their differences, I tried ad nauseam to see his point of view. I feel I exhausted every resource I could, in order to stay. After years of extreme mental and physical abuse I took my son and left.  The last fight we ever got into did not end well. He had purchased a big-screen TV, which cost over $400 while we had a young child and were trying to save for a house. Our rent at the time was $350.00. He had mentioned wanting to purchase this TV and a surround sound system to go with it. I told him that was something we needed to talk more about.  We had a new son who was less than a year old.  It was just after the Christmas-holiday hoopla season and I had stayed up one night to take down the tree and all the season’s festive trimmings. There was a fireplace in our small apartment, oddly enough , and I remember looking in a box at our wedding photos. Several frames, and mementos remained in the box and I was going to place them on the fire place mantle.

  I kept staring at the framed photographs in the box and I knew that on that day, three years earlier when I had promised myself to that man and no other that I meant what I said. I meant I would stand by him through thick and thin—I had certainly changed clothing sizes post-baby, through sickness and health---I had been emotionally sick and taken anti-depressants, cared for our young son, and even cared for my husband when he was ill. The part I hadn’t made it through was the ‘til death do you part.’ Staring into the box of wedding photographs I realized I was dead inside. My love for this man was waning, the torment and excruciating pain he put me through was overwhelming.

                The mistake stormed through the door almost two hours after he had gotten off work, close to midnight. His brother helped him carry the TV into our apartment. Naturally I was furious. I was upset that I wasn’t important enough for him to have at least called to tell me he was running late, I was furious he had not asked me how I felt about making such a large purchase and how he expected me to keep paying for things we could not afford.  I made some snarky comments about the giant television being placed on the floor. My young twenty-something brother –in-law sensed my distress and exited, stage left. Our son was asleep in his crib, the box of wedding photos remained unpacked on the mantle, and I began fighting with this man I promised to love with all my heart, might, mind, and strength, until death did we part.  I cannot tell you all that was said, I cannot tell you all that I did. I can tell you that my son woke up and was bawling. I went in his room to console him. My son was crying out for me in his tiny frightened voice. He was afraid, he was screaming in terror.

I tried to pick up my wailing child, to console him, to hold him close, and The Mistake threw me on the ground. He pushed me down so hard he knocked the wind out of me. I stood up, my child and reason for fighting less than 10 feet away from me still upset and frightened from having watched his father push me to the ground. I stood up with a fire in my eyes that still remains. I stood up and I punched The Mistake as hard as I could, giving him a black eye. I told him he would NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN. He took our son out of his crib, tried to console him, but all my son wanted was me. He wanted me to take him in my arms, to know that I am okay, he was afraid of his father. I tried everything I could to bring The Mistake to his knees so I could take my son and leave.  The Mistake kept hold of our son, clutching him tightly screaming obscenities’ to me all while my son was still wailing.

At some point after I had injured The Mistake and had gotten my son back, I comforted my sweet fearful baby, and called my mother to tell her what happened. I locked the front door. I knew there was no way The Mistake could get in the door while it was locked, because it was a chain link lock and would only lock from the inside.  At the time all of this was happening in my marriage, I had befriended the neighbors down stairs.  They were an older couple trying to start their life over, sell their home and relocate until something more permanent became available. They were my life raft at the time. I would spend hours talking to them and talking to the wife who was also a mother and grandmother. She had fallen ill and had surgery and I spent several days cooking and making extra food to take to them because we had become so close. I remember the phone call I got the next day from her vividly. This elderly couple lived directly below me, they had heard the fight the night before. They had witnessed my son screaming out for me and the sounds of The Mistake throwing me around. She told me I was a wonderful mother, that I was capable and strong, that she almost called the police, than her husband came up to see if I was alright, but The Mistake had already left. She told me I shouldn’t ever put up with that kind of abuse from a man or anyone else. I told her I knew, that I didn’t know where to begin to start over, but that I was tired of feeling afraid.

                Over the next few weeks I had to move all of my stuff out of the apartment and into storage. I learned The Mistake had started an affair with a co-worker whom I assume he told he was already getting divorced. I had to move in with my Mother and Father. I had no job, and The Mistake had left me with no money by cleaning out our joint checking account. When I asked The Mistake how he expected me to pay for our son, to even feed him his response was: “you have food stamps.” I had to deal with The Mistake coming over to harass and threaten me while I was trying to move our things in storage, to start over, begin a new chapter in my life. He returned to the apartment again and again to turn all of the lights on because the power was in my name and he thought making the power bill more expensive was a good means at getting back at me. I dealt with The Mistake taking my name off the car insurance so that the vehicle I was driving was uninsured, him not caring if his son and I were in a wreck what might happen to us. I dealt with threat after threat, act of isolation after act of isolation. I felt alone, financially penniless and emotionally broken.

                Over time, my bruised ribs healed, the bruises he left on my arms from grabbing me so hard, the bruises up and down my back from being thrown into the door and the door knob landing squarely and painfully in my mid- back. I imagine the land lord of the previous apartment I vacated had to patch the hole in the wall where his fist went. I imagine the land lord had to patch the hole in the wall where I had thrown a jar candle across the room, when I learned I was pregnant; Even though my son was planned, even though I wanted to be a mother more than anything else in the world.  I had a conversation with my best friend, who married the exact same mistake I had. We spoke of how messed up it was that our desire to become mothers out -weighed anything else in our lives. We spoke of the blessing our children have been , the source of joy, and how the lack of support and love from their father’s have gravely affected us.  The toll this journey has taken on our hearts, the pain we live with, the fears we’ve outgrown.

                While living with my parents, my belongings in storage, waiting for a divorce to be finalized on a marriage I entered with hope and exited in sheer terror, I began to think things through.  My son slept with me every night in the hide-a-bed that folded out from the sofa and I cried myself to sleep. I cried so hard I didn’t think I had any more tears to cry. I didn’t understand why I had let my life get to this point, why I had married a man that was so cruel and unfeeling. A man who would never truly understand the  bond between a mother and child and how that cannot ever be broken, not even in death. I had married a man who blamed me for the extra weight I put on from pregnancy, but did not support me well enough to watch our own child while I worked out and did anything about getting back to my pre-pregnancy size. I had married a man I thought was religious who hid pornographic magazines all over the house, who spent money we didn’t have to finance an addiction he said he didn’t have, yet I kept finding the proof of everywhere I turned.

                I am the crazy one. I am psychotic, I am fearless. I never quit fighting, I never backed down, I have not given him the upper hand since. My son is afraid of him, he has concerns that he only tells me, and a few he shares with a counselor, he has trusted me with information he cannot tell anyone else, that I promised to never tell anyone, not even in a court of law. I will continue to fight, and to protect my son. I am still the young mother and woman who got thrown down in front of her son in so many ways, but I am no victim. I will always stand and fight. I will always be courageous. I will never stop helping people, and I will never be afraid of any man ever again. Especially The Mistake. He will never threaten me, belittle me, undermine me, or frustrate me ever again.  He can say what he wants; he can believe I am a crazy heartless bitch who is constantly keeping him from seeing his son. His opinion of me does not matter. He can call the police, he can throw me in jail, he can try to keep me cornered and afraid. I will not be afraid anymore. I will not be silent. I will stand up for what I know is right, I will continue to fight. I will not run away.

                That seems to be the tricky thing about fighting and fleeing; sometimes they resemble each other and fighting looks like running away and staying looks like leaving when your heart isn’t in it. It doesn’t matter what it may look like from the outside, it only matters how it feels to you, and what you need to do to keep yourself safe, and keep yourself sane. No one is perfect, no one person has all the answers, but what is inside each of us pre determines what comes next. We are all the master’s of our own destiny and no matter how many times we get knocked down, we can stand back up. No matter how many times someone tells us we’re the victim, it is up to us to decide our own fate.  I have decided to be a survivor, and I will not go silent into the night. I will not be afraid any more.

Happy Birthday to My Baby Girl

Baby girl turned 4 years old today. Yup, my kids' birthdays are two days apart. :) Guess I'm only fertile during one time of the year!

I Have A Confession...

I have been partially anorexic for about twelve years now. Ugh, I do NOT like the term anorexic. It gives me the willies and reminds me of Lifetime original movies.

Yesterday I was telling my doctor about my constant nausea. Ever since my brain surgeries I have been nauseous in the morning, but it's usually gone by ten o'clock or so. However, the past two weeks I have been too nauseous to eat, and have even thrown up a few times. 'Hmmm,' he says.

We started talking about my weight, about my thyroid, and about how most people don't worry when they drop a few pounds from nausea. He asked if my weight fluctuated at all at any time in my life, so I told him my story.

Ladies, I weigh 91 pounds soaking wet. I know that some of you will hate me for that, but remember, everyone is entitled to be unhappy with their own body! Most people think I can just eat whatever I want and stay thin, but it's not like that at all. I have trained myself to eat things that keep me thin. See the difference? I was the chubby one in the family growing up, but had skinny friends. I remember a girl in 4th grade telling me I had wide hips. Ha!! In 7th grade I was a size 7 (which is over average for a 5-footer like me) and weighed 135 pounds. So the summer after 7th grade I decided it was time for a diet. I basically starved myself and exercised constantly for six weeks, and I managed to lose a whopping 40 pounds. Yay, I was a size 0!! Woohoo!!

I cut out pop completely, and to this day only drink it when I have a migraine. This has been especially helpful, in that my belly went away instantly and nowadays the caffeine works almost instantly on my headache... my body isn't accustomed to it anymore. I taught myself to enjoy fruits and vegetables and healthy cooking, and now dislike the taste of fast food. I have always had so much will power inside me, and I have always been able to do whatever I gave myself permission to do. It took mental work, but the day I decided I wanted to change my body was the day I made it happen.

So the doctor asks, 'How often are you eating?'
Me: 'Once a day... sometimes.'
Doctor: 'Who said you can't eat?'
Me: 'Nobody?'
Doctor: 'Who told you to come here today?;
Me: 'Me?'
Doctor: 'So why don't you tell yourself that it's okay to eat?'

I thought about that on the way home, and by the time I got home my nausea was gone! I'm giving myself permission to eat foods that I don't particularly like, for the sake of gaining back ten pounds. I want those ten pounds back, I have wanted them back for a few years. And the only person who can gain them back is me.

Can I just say that I am absolutely amazed at the power of MIND power! I have control over my body, I just need to take it! And you can too!! Isn't there something you've always wanted to do, but YOU have been standing in your way? I can think of a handful of things off the top of my head, most of which I still need my permission to do. Maybe that will be another post. :)

Happy Birthday to My FAVORITE Man!

My little guy turned 6 today. Happy Birthday, Little One!! :)

O Strength, How I Have Missed Thee!

It's funny how you never know your own strength until it's in use right before your eyes. I jumped two huge hurdles today. First, I spoke to a doctor about my depression. Jenn: 1, Life: 0! Then, I did something that I had no idea I wanted to do. I said NO.

Today my certain someone emailed to say that after ten days in his little nothing-of-a-town, he's sick of it up there and wants to come back to see me for a week or so, until he hears back about a job (which is a shot in the dark in Alaska, and which he has been waiting months to hear back on). You know what I said?

Ya know, I don't know how I would feel about you coming back. I would like to see you again too, but I don't want to only provide a way for you to pass the time (he's been bored as hell since he left), or a booty call. I would almost rather you didn't come back unless you plan on staying, since you leaving hurt so bad the last time. Plus, starting next week I will have a job, whether in Town A or Town B, and if it's in Town A I will be staying with my parents during the week while I work. I just don't know... I'm sorry that *your town* hasn't been as excellent as you thought it would be, and maybe it would be if you had a job and a better place to live there. But if not *your town*, then where? You said you're tired of starting over again and again, but I don't see that pattern ending any time soon. I think it's time for you to choose a place to settle down and start your life. Me and my apartment can't serve as a pit stop between your adventures. You're either here or you're not. It's not gonna work otherwise.

- *his town* is the place I sent him, hundreds of miles away, that he just 'knew' he wanted to end up for life.
- Town A is a town about 50 miles away, a place where I have a job interview tomorrow!

Score 2 for Jenn! In all honesty, I'm out of the habit. I have my own life and my own shit to deal with, whether he's involved or not. I kinda don't care anymore. Like I said before, I know without a doubt that he loves me and my kids, that we love him, that we could be immensely happy together forever... but I'm tired of waiting.

One more thing... he said he got an email from another State agency wanting to hire him, but he told them about his wait for the Alaska job. It reminded me of the way he wanted me to wait for him to decide whether to stay or leave, so I asked him how long he expected them to wait for his answer? Once again, the world does not revolve around you, sir. No, it does not.

The Importance of Closure

This seems to be what makes or breaks our sanity. I have solved my problem. I know why I'm so depressed, why I can't escape this funk. Knowing why is the first step to escaping this deep, dark place. Step two is figuring out how.

My spirits are lifted from having pinpointed the problem. I have a strange way of quantifying and solving problems. Hence my desire to become a mechanical engineer. :) A light bulb came on for me last night, while lying awake in bed.

I became slightly depressed last Christmas, generated by a combination of quitting my neuropathy meds cold-turkey (which also sooth bipolar disorder, epilepsy, depression, and a number of other neurological disorders) and the lack of routine during winter break. I was only off my meds for about two weeks, and I felt ever so slightly better when school started again in January. However, it was the roughest, most time-consuming, largest workload I've ever had to deal with in school. On top of my school stress was my kid stress. It was damn near impossible to get to class at 8a.m. for my hardest class, what with getting all three of us ready in the morning, dropping my kids off at two different places, then finding parking at school.

Then came the problems with my ex. Both my kids have come back from their dad's house with strange injuries, none of which he has been able to explain, and my kids maintain they have no idea how these things happened. I dealt with the police and child abuse detectives, got my kids in counseling, and kept trying, trying, trying to solve the mysteries. I am still with no conclusion on anything, only the pediatrician's determination that these injuries could only have been caused by abuse of some sort.

I noticed starting in December that I have had a hard time reacting properly to life stressors. On several occasions someone close to me was hurt physically or in harm's way and I had no feeling or reaction. I have been stressed beyond belief for five months, but never once did I break down and cry. I have been frustrated to the point of anger, but couldn't seem to cry.

I have cried almost non-stop for the last seven days. I have reached my breaking point. I have no closure for my poor children, and no closure for my relationship. Generally speaking, once closure comes I easily move past life events. I remember the last six weeks of my marriage. I was in counseling and had decided to end my marriage. The last six weeks were hell, but my house sure was clean! My counselor said my compulsion to do homework and housework was my need for closure. Laundry and dishes get done, homework gets done. And once I broke the relationship off, my house went right back to 'untidy' as usual. (Although, I have to say that the majority of the messes in my house were caused by my ex husband, because once he left, my house somehow only took 1/4 of the time to clean). Ha.

But this time I don't even know where to start to find closure. How will I ever get closure for my children, besides filing for full custody and knowing that they don't have to be in their father's care anymore? I have spoken to an attorney, but I don't have the money to fight the case. I'm only hoping that my kids someday open up to someone, anyone, about what happened to them.

And how can I get closure for my relationship? We didn't have a good reason for separating. I have never felt like we were a lost cause, which is usually the realization that brings about the beginning of the end. I have asked for no more contact in an attempt to let things die, but I just don't see it happening, even if we don't speak for months. If he said that he didn't think we would ever be together again, it would be different. But part of him is still holding onto me, and that's the part of me that can't let go.

Any suggestions? What can I do to find closure? I'm tired of being a nut job. I have things that need done. My kids need me, and I desperately need my focus and my spunk back.

The Pursuit of Happiness

Simply Stacia inspired me to listen to some uplifting, happy music. I'm not a reckless, drug-doing kind of gal, but I LOVE 'Pursuit of Happiness' by Kid Cudi. Love it :)

I'm on the pursuit of happiness, and I know
Everything that shines ain't always gonna be gold

I'll be fine once I get it. I'll be good.

The last four six days have been so hard. Everything in this town feels like 'ours,' makes me anxious and sad to leave the house. I tried walking around the cemetery yesterday, one of the places my certain someone and I used to walk and explore in town. I felt so utterly lost and alone there. Nothing felt real or familiar. Tried to walk my neighborhood and even that invoked too much paranoia to stand. I turned back after only a block. 

I'm trying to find things to look forward to, trying to make plans for my life, to focus on a goal. What things do I have control over? I reorganized my school schedule and found that even after failing a particularly hard class this spring, I can still easily finish my degree in two years. (I had thought I was put a year behind because of that class). So... school is what I have to look forward to. In two years, I will be getting back on my feet and deciding for myself where to live. There will be shiny things along my path, but not all of them are worth picking up. And I'll be fine when I get to the top of the hill. I'll be good.

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I wanted to add to what Jenn A posted here. I cannot tell you how much the movie "The Pursuit of Happiness" has meant to me in my life. If you haven't seen it, stop what you're doing right this second and rent it. Better yet, go to Amazon and BUY IT! You will not be dissapointed. Anyone who has ever went through a difficult life changing circumstance will tell you how they relate to this movie. You cannot fully understand it without watching it.
          I saw this movie a year before my Father passed away. A year before all of the circumstances happened that I posted about in a previous post. We saw this movie as a family. So much has changed since than. I remember thinking I lived part of that story, and that no one fully understood why I did what I did to protect myself and my son, or why from an outsiders perspective it looked like chaos. No one can ever know the lengths we go to protect ourselves and our children, until we've lived that story, at least in part. If you have survived, and made it through to the happiness part, you know what I am talking about.
           If you've chosen to be a survivor and not a victim, you know what I mean. The raw emotion and wrist-slitting honesty is an emotion you feel. Maybe your eyes become moist because you identify with a Father's struggle to protect himself and his son. Maybe you don't understand how you can fear so much, and still stay strong. Maybe you don't know where to start because you haven't made it through to the good parts yet. Maybe you don't know what to say. Maybe you just don't know. Maybe you just don't care. Maybe, all of these things are standing in your way. I understand, I know, I've been there and in some ways, I am still rebuilding my life. I don't have all the answers but I can tell you that I love my son. I love my life. I value others. I hope to find strength and renewed energy while taking others with me to the top. Not the bottom, not the floor where I've been so long in my life. Not down, down, down but up, up,up! Who is with me on the way to the top?!
                                                                                                   ~Overshared by Jenn B  

Man Theory #1

This is so obvious that some of you might turn red with embarrassment just reading it... I know I did when I finally figured it out. Men are born with the ability to communicate in only two emotions - happy and angry. Tada! I've solved half of your communication problems. :)

Just kidding. But seriously, don't think for a second that your guy doesn't have feelings besides happy or angry just because he doesn't communicate any other way.

Recently a friend of mine... ahem... had an argument with her boyfriend because he is often snappy and angry with her. I asked him where the hell he gets off being so rude to my friend, of course, and he replied, through tears, that he is only angry with himself for snapping at her, and that he doesn't want to lose her.

This was my reply: Go home, cry about it, find an emotion somewhere between happy and angry and learn to communicate that way. Often times men are feeling somewhere in between, but rather than fake happiness they resort to the angry undertone. Why, you ask? Because they were born that way and now they need training. It's biology at work, my friends. These days we expect more than a caveman as a partner. We have evolved into multi-tasking, hard-working, bread-winning, analytically thinking women, and there's no reason we shouldn't expect the other half of the population to evolve with us.

Just an insight.

Should I Stay or Should I Go NOW?

       I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about STAYING in a relationship. Now, don't get me wrong, I am a leaver by nature. I will skid out of a relationship so fast a guy won't even know what hit them. I have been known to end conversations abruptly, give ultimatums, and text: "Go run your game on some other poor naive innocent girl cus I am DONE." The last is a true story. I used that as a way to escape my 'you're so hot I can't keep my hands off of you but you're not the guy I need' 2 year relationship. I have learned to leave in an effort to avoid being ditched. My heart does not have revolving doors. I have NEVER given any man a second chance that broke my heart so bad enough that I had to break up with him.. It's called a break up because it's broken. Right? Wrong. See I am an eternal optimist which can be truly negative on my heart. I see the proverbial glass half full all the fucking time! So much so that I have stayed in relationships that were doomed from the start because I knew somehow that this would all just work out. No car? No job? No place to live? No problem! You have nice blue eyes and you're kind, and I like the way you make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world, and I happen to have all three of those things for you to use at your disposal. Please walk on me. I am a door mat. Please wipe your muddy boots on my back. FUCK NO!!!! Who in their right mind wants to live that way? Not I. And so I leave, after years of staying with all the wrong guys, I leave. I leave before I get left. I find lots of excuses to leave. I leave, flee, when it's fight or flight I fly. Now, don't feel all bad for me and think "this girl has major commitment issues." I'm actually a very monogamous person. At most, I have loved only 3 men in my entire life and I am well into my thirties. I have left a lot more than that though behind. Dozens! There may well be a trail of broken hearts along my skid marks. All of this staying and leaving makes it pretty damn hard to make up your mind sometimes. So that's where I am at right now. Trying to rewrite the chapter of my life that has been a continual cycle.
  
           I am what you would call a go-getter, a juggler, a jack of all trades, and yup....I'm pretty amazing. Some men even find me irresistible. Not because I am Heidi Klum or Angelina Jolie's body double but because I put them first. Did you need 20$ for gas? Hey no problem! What? You're going on a skiing trip with a girl from work even though I am pregnant with your child? SURE!!! You have fun now! Ya, right, poor pathetic me. Well the fact of the matter is, we all make mistakes cause we're all human and it doesn't matter what everyone thinks all the time. At least not to me. No one else has to live with the consequences of my decisions but me. Only I can decide what affect these have on my life. I have learned quite a lot along the way though. I have learned that if you continue certain cycles in your life without pausing for reflection that you are destined to repeat the mistakes. Even if you leave that abusive/commitment phobic/fuckstick! Guess what I have learned as the ultimate guarantee? You will find another one! You will shortly find a tall,. dark and handsome stranger who will seem better than the last guy but in fact, isn't! In fact, he may be worse!!!! Who wants a guarantee like that? If I bought a car that continually broke down and left me stranded, and I saved money for a new car I would NOT go buy the same year make and model. Would you? HELL NO! But that's what we do as women, we do it all the time. We stay, we think this model is cooler, has a nicer paint job and goes faster but when we look under the hood the same mechanical quirks remain. So I started hauling them off to the junk yard. But I did make an effort to sit down and reflect on the damage control. What were the valuable parts of this relationship? Why wasn't it worth salvaging? Why did I wanna thumb it on the freeway rather than climb back into that car? So for me, I think in part, I need to be needed. What I am learning is, I need you to be a big boy too.
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          I am so good at taking care of people that I forget to take care of myself. I do run around saving the world constantly. I do this blog and I work 3 other jobs, plus I am a full time very involved hands on mom. That's job number one. That's the job I am okay exhausting myself for. I know that no matter what though, it's ultimately my responsibility to teach my son to respect my boundaries. If you've ever flown on an airplane you have heard the boring flight attendant spiel about what to do in case of an emergency. What they tell you is to put your own oxygen mask on first. Before you can help anyone else, you yourself have to be breathing. My problem is, I value people more than anything else in my life. I am a spiritual person who believes you don't have to be confined by religion. All of us are spiritual whether we acknowledge it or not. Jenn A is Agnostic, indifferent, and she has been part of a religion she no longer identifies with in her life. Does this matter to me as far as our friendship is concerned? Not one little bit! Whether or not she chooses to believe in God, I choose to believe in him for her. For me, He is a very real, very present source in my life. If you know me, even just talking in the grocery line at the store, and we talk for more than 5 minutes I will be able to point out to you the exact correlation between you and God, in your own life. I feel it is a gift I have. I have a close relationship with God, and my personal Savior Jesus Christ. I believe we are all born with an innate sense of right and wrong. I think with my heart more than anything else. I have learned to trust it. Even though, in the past she has been broken and badly bruised, she still sings a rhythm to me that I can hear. I have learned to trust her, she doesn't lead me astray.

          Because I am a leaver, and a Stay-er and a go getter and all of these other things mashed into a blender and pureed, I am a good person. The only person who ever told me I was bad was my mistake of an ex husband, and we all know how that ended up. I simply do not feel the need to treat people badly. I have been treated very badly at different times in my life. Sometimes in an effort to not be lonely, I felt even more alone. For some religions it's called "The Golden Rule:" Simply treat others as you would like to be treated. For me, it is a Christ-like attitude of putting others before yourself.

        In my journey of self discovery I stumbled across something one day in a magazine that said: "Putting yourself first. Think it's selfish? It's not." What?! Aren't selfish people always putting themselves first at the expense of other people? So wouldn't putting others first at the expense of yourself equal selflessness? Well I am not mathematical at all (My inability to balance a check book can attest to that) but I have learned that Sacrificing my own happiness+putting others first+exhausting all my resources does not equal happiness and peace of mind. For me it equals exhaustion and resentment. So how do I break the pattern?


       The infamous lyrics Stay by The Clash:

Should I stay or should I go now?
If I stay there will be trouble,
If I go there will be double,
So come on and let me know,
should I stay or should I go?

It's always tease, tease, tease
You're happy when I'm on my knees.
One day it's fine the next it's black,
So if you want me off you're back,
Come on and let me know,
should I stay or should I go?


          I mean who hasn't been here before? Sometimes I have to fight myself to stay, or deal with the pain of leaving. Sometimes it hurts to stay, and sometimes it feels great to leave, and sometimes the path isn't clear. I see what I want and I go for it, as go-getters often do. That doesn't mean that I am not entitled to feel indecisive and feel like WTF is wrong with me? It doesn't mean that I don't need an hour or a week away from the person I love, and want, as a significant other. It doesn't mean that I don't want to be needy and clingy and touched and kissed and caressed and made to feel that I am the most--if not only--desirable woman in the world. It means, I have the freedom to choose. We all need to do some leaving and some staying. We all come with emotional baggage and crap to deal with, and flaws. We all have strengths too. We are human. We, as women, for the most part put ourselves last. We care for our kids, our men, our jobs, the house, the car, and ourselves fall second to last. The last for me, is probably sleep. I can never seem to get caught up on or simply get enough of some badly needed beauty rest.

          So in an effort to put myself first, I have stopped trying to stuff myself into other people's ideals. I have stopped trying to make myself perfect. A square peg, doesn't ever fit in a round hole. No matter how much sanding you do to make it fit, it will never fit as well as a round peg in a round hole.Only you can decide what fits where in your life, and prioritize accordingly.

          My hope for all of you, is the same hope I have for myself. That we will all rise above our own ideals, and help others along the way. That we will find a way to keep the oxygen tanks connected to our masks full before we fuel the tanks of others unnecessarily. I am still a work in progress but I am learning that you don't have to sacrifice your oxygen to allow others to breathe. You can simply point them to the nearest supplier, whatever that may be in their lives. For me, it's about helping people and leaving them better than when I found them before. It's not about rescuing every stray along the way, or allowing myself to be a door mat. It's about hope, and light, and scattering both along the way.

I'm Learning All Over Again How to Be Alone

I have learned that the most important characteristic one can possess, and the hardest learned life lesson is knowing the value of people. I'm sure this has been said before somewhere... sometimes it is easier to start over with something new than work on something that's broken. It sounds true for some areas of life, but I don't believe it's true for relationships.

I'm torn today. For once, I'm not spouting off profanities, I'm not snappy, I'm not my usual crude, cynical self. This morning I sent my certain someone down the trail. An 8-hour long trail, that is, to a town far, far away. I got tired of waiting for him to decide to stay, so I made him leave. I think that for men, it makes sense to start over with someone new, utilizing the lessons he learned from his last relationship, rather than use those lessons to fix the last relationship. The lesson that he and sooooooo many men need to learn is the value of people.

This certain someone loves me so much. He loves my kids and we seem to fit perfectly together. It feels right when we're together. However, the decision to stay in a town temporarily for another person is far too selfless, and the better choice appears to be driving several hundred miles away, to a town where he knows no one, and be alone, all the while kicking himself for not staying. Why do men self-sabotage in this way? Why do they willingly give up the best thing they've ever had (by their own admittance) and start over? Starting over is hard, in my opinion. First you have to break the habits from the last relationship, then you have to find out who you are and what you want (again), and then you start the awkward, paranoid-of-dating-another-Mr.-Wrong first date phase again.

He rotates back and forth almost instantly from 'I don't want to get married, what's the point?' to 'Let's get married at the lake' and then crying because he wants kids someday and he's pissing away all hope for that. He says he's afraid of getting married because he is attracted to lots of other women. So... he's scared that one day he'll cheat on me? The only thing that can solve that is for him to learn to value his significant other. We're all attracted to people besides our significant other, and we can look all we want, we just make the choice not to touch.  If he valued what he had, he would know for certain that what he has is worth far more than a 20-minute sexcapade with someone else, and he would be able to foil his own plan. If he valued people in general, he would know the worth of a relationship, he would not be willing to give it away.

This certain someone is a good man. He is loyal, thoughtful, hard-working, and most importantly, he has the nuts to make me feel like an equal. But he is still selfish on some level, and apparently that is the dog shit in the brownies.

This is day one. Today my body hurts. My legs and feet are numb, my throat has a painful bubble, and I'm out of it. I made it through pushing my certain someone out my front door with tears streaming down his face, I made it through my son's graduation, I worked on the garden that my certain someone started for me a few days ago, I washed the dishes that had been piling up for three days, I made the beds. I didn't cook much because I'm not hungry. I had several small break-downs throughout the day, but I didn't hurt while I was busy weeding and cleaning.

This is what breaking the habit feels like. First you hurt and are numb at the same time, you compulsively check your phone for his call or text, you wonder if you've done the right thing and if he's okay. I'm reminding myself why I did what I did. I pushed him out because we need to remember what it was like before 'us.' He needs to grow up and learn to make life decisions, and I need to escape the emotional turmoil of waiting for him to make his decision. I will sleep alone tonight, and I will take the time to break down. Tomorrow is another day, whether it feels better or worse. I haven't decided yet if I'm ready to be over it. I don't give up on anything until it's an absolute lost cause, and it is hard for me to want to look elsewhere when I came so close this time. But I can't keep waiting either. I need to practice being alone again. I need to clean house, go on a job hunt, spend some extra special time with my kids, and do things that I have been meaning to do. Staying busy is the key to breaking the habit.

It's Not Always Okay All the Time....but it Will be!

One weekend, five years ago, tragedy struck. In the Spring time, when the earth was blooming, and I had just started to enjoy the warmer weather, I got devastating news. I had relocated into a two bedroom apartment for my son and I, after living with my Mom for nearly a year. The time frame was post divorce of course and things were not easy. I had just gone through a lengthy court battle with my mistake (also known as my ex-husband) and redone custody. All of my financial and emotional resources were maxed out. I was exhausted, drained, and pretty much hopeless. Finally, I had found employment that was a 9-6, Monday through Friday schedule and I didn't feel like I was deprived of spending time with my son who was 3 at the time. I didn't have a lot of money, really nothing in savings, but I had done enough, worked hard enough, and saved enough that I had barely enough for a deposit and first month's rent on my new dwelling. It wasn't a dream apartment, it was rather small, and the neighbors freaked me out a bit. Never the less I was glad to have my own little corner of the world and a place to call home.

I moved in, hung up my pictures, put the dishes away and thought, at last I have a place to call my own. Things had been somewhat rocky with my employer. I had been late several times, had to take excessive time off because of the court battle and, generally didn't particularly enjoy my job. I was in the "fake it to make it," period of my life. Slapping a fake smile on my face every morning, and heels that matched my business casual wardrobe. I was expected to go above and beyond, the extra mile, put our customers first, read business books, and find time to volunteer as part of my job requirements. All of this for $9.25 per hour. After taxes, daycare, food, etc; I wasn't left with much. I didn't get along well with my co-workers whom most of were either single, or married, all of whom were close to my age, and none to relate too in this single parent world. Because this was a call center, I was on the phone for 8 hours a day talking to disgruntled clients who were not afraid to use you as their emotional dumping ground. You were their punching bag, because you had the power to make it all okay, or so they thought. I had to sell financial products to these people. Try to pre-qualify them for mortgages, car loans, etc; Because I am naturally friendly and happy-go-lucky I thought this would be the job for me. Of course I was wrong. The people I tried to help and were friendly too, it turns out tried to flirt with me. The disgruntled customers I wasn't soothing enough too. I was working at a dead end job trying to promote financial well being for these clients while living with my own mother and sharing a bed with my toddler, because I had no money myself. Talk about a catch 22!

One morning, I stumbled into work, after a rather hectic start with my son throwing a tantrum, not wanting to go to daycare, and me struggling to fly down the highway to make up for the lost time. It was 9:03, 3 minutes past the time I was required to log in on the time clock, and sign in to take calls. I sat at my desk, put my head set on and tried to push all of the doubt and anxiety out of my mind. I wanted desperately to rewrite this chapter of my life. To be a decent employee, a super mom, a good friend, daughter, and person. And than my manager, a man not elder than me by much, asked to speak to me. I went to his corner office and than we walked down the hallway to a meeting room. My stomach was churning, now what? I sat in a chair, at the conference table and he began with "Jenn B, we just don't feel this is the job for you..." My mind was reeling as he described their disappointment in my work performance, and the chaos of my life affecting this performance. I knew all of my 'but everything is wrong in my life' excuses were futile. I simply hung my head, and let the tears roll down my cheeks. I was defeated, I was ruined and I didn't know where to go from there. The manager asked me if I would like to resign or they could terminate my employment. I wrote my letter for resignation there, free-hand. I was so hysterical by this time that my manager had to return to my desk for me, to pack up my things in a box and escort me from the building. The words of encouragement to his hyperventilating now former employee was: "This is not the end."

The rest of the day went by in a blur. I remember returning home, bawling my eyes out for a good hour, talking and yelling to my mother about the injustice of it all. I had my apartment, my son was at daycare and where the hell was next months rent coming from? I changed into cut offs and a t shirt, wiped the mascara from my face and went to pick up my son. I explained to the daycare provider that I no longer needed her services, at least for the time being until I found other employment. I remember returning to my apartment in a daze. Going through the motions of making dinner and putting my son to bed, than sitting there in the quiet, thinking to myself, now what?

In the morning I woke and went about my day doing all the things I would have done regularly on my day off. I went to pick up a suit jacket from the dry cleaner and missed a call from my brother. I returned the call and immediately he answered and asked: "Where are you?" in a panicked tone. I knew something was wrong so I started to inquire, "What's wrong?" He said "You need to get home right now." Again, I asked what was so upsetting and he just said: "Come home." I didn't ask any more questions, I put my dry cleaning in the back of the car and drove to my parents home. I came in the front door, my mother was in her bath robe and everyone was crying. All my siblings, including my mom, and my brother's girlfriend were hysterical. My Mom especially. I thought, does my mother have cancer? Does she not have long to live? And than my mom asked me to sit down. My young 3 year old son, sat on my lap. My mom began to explain, "The state police just left, there was an accident and Dad died." I jumped up and yelled at her, told her it was a joke, a misunderstanding, a mistake. I was outraged! I was shocked! I was in pain. I doubled over in disbelief and sunk back down onto the couch reeling with emotion. Tears pooled in my eyes, I sobbed harder than I ever had before.

I had no idea how to deal with all this devastation at once. The next few days were a blur of family calling, friends, meals delivered, flowers sent and funeral planning. I remember somehow mustering the strength as the eldest child to help my Mom pick out a casket, to make funeral arrangements to sort through the details. I made phone calls, I cleaned her house, I organized, made room for family coming to stay, took care of my son, and each night returned home, exhausted. Most nights I am sure I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I had been dating a man, 10 years older than me at the time. He was a family friend and acquaintance turned boyfriend, and a consoling source at the time. He would come over and hold me while I cried, rub my back until I fell asleep, whispering everything would be alright. We both knew it was not alright and wouldn't be for a very long time. After the funeral, after the burial, after all the moments that followed, I sat alone with this man in his car, outside my apartment. He began by speaking calmly telling me of his feelings for me, of knowing that I was an amazing woman, how he was sorry I had been through so much difficulty. He also started to break up with me. He told me he was not who I wanted or needed, that there were major road blocks in the way. I wasn't even thirty and wanted more children, children he did not have the capability to provide. We were different religions, and although we are both spiritual people, we would still be a house divided had we pursued our relationship. He told me the ever cliche' "It will be okay." I yelled back at him after many tears and much exasperation and said "I want better than fucking okay! I want more than mediocrity! I want a fan-fucking-tastic life! It's not all about you! My dad just died, I have no job, and now you're turning your back on me too?! Chalk that one up to good timing!" Exasperated, exhausted and upset I returned home to my apartment and collapsed on the floor. What to do with the pieces of the puzzle of my life? Now what? So many questions plagued me, so many answers eluded me. So much pain and anguish remained. I was in emotional turmoil. I had seemingly navigated through an emotional mind field, losing limbs at every turn. My life was a mess.

A few days later, the path became clear to me, as to what I needed to do. I called my brother and asked a friend if they would help me move my belongings, once again into storage. I wrote my land lord a letter explaining why I needed to break my lease. I moved back in with my Mom because we needed each other. As hard as that was for me to admit that I needed my mother once again, the fact still remained, inescapable as ever. I simply could not do it on my own. That summer was beautiful. I remember it being the worst best summer of my life. I took my son and went camping a lot, went fishing, started to teach him all of the things my dad had taught me. I snuggled close to him every single night. I sang to him, played with him, read stories, went on long walks, and listened to myself. My heart was pounding out a rhythm that I understood. I began to understand that my life was mine to live, and happiness was a choice. I could stay down, blaming gravity or I could rise above.

We all deserve a reservation at the pity potty outhouse from time to time. We need to go there in the quiet, to listen, to mourn. The weight of our lives is a heavy burden on our shoulders. Because it's an outhouse, it never smells pleasant and I didn't want to stay there for long. That doesn't mean I don't still pay it a visit from time to time. I need a place to relieve my emotional turmoil, to excrete it out of my soul, to leave the shit behind. When the Summer ended, I had rekindled old friendships and made time for the things in my life that mattered, I made time to experience joy. Sometimes that's all life requires of you, to make room to fill up your heart and your mind with other thoughts, other emotions, than sadness, grief, and pain.

I eventually moved on to find employment, found an affordable, though small, apartment, and began to pick up the pieces once again. Years later, five of them in fact, I have had to relearn this same lesson. I have had to excrete at the pity potty, I have had to try to figure out the semblance of a life .It is not always easy, this game of Tetris. The puzzle is constantly changing, and sometimes you lose the game. For me, it's not about winning the game every time, but still being a participating player, that makes all the difference. To still have a fighting chance. I have found that there is a lot of fight left in me. Though it's never easy and often things fall in my path that I have to remove or climb over, it is my path to choose. I get to decide what I do with what falls in the way, what will stay and what will go. I have found that it is 'okay,' and that even though we may not understand all the reasons, there are always solutions. It is okay. Life is okay, It will be, it can be, it is, okay. Some days I strive for more than okay, and sometimes mediocrity is the best I can hope for. Still, there are other times when I flourish, I find ways to shine, I reach out, I reach up, and I am back in the sunlight again.

We don't have to do it alone. None of us ever needs to feel alone. The lie that we tell ourselves is that we are alone. Other people are hurting too, and they have made it through the emotional land mine. We all wear our scars and are plagued by our pasts, but we don't have to let the past become our future. If you take the time to talk to people, anytime anywhere, they will tell you their story. If you listen closely and read between the lines, it may just match your own. They may have learned something and want to pass on that knowledge to you, they may need a safe place to tell their story, and maybe you can find healing together. The truth of the matter for me is that, it isn't okay all the time, and it doesn't have to be. None of us can truly heal the hurt of another human heart. We can listen, we can hold hands, we can cry together. In a solemn moment when the path way doesn't seem to bright, and the obstacle course is not clear, we can speak the truth to one another. We can declare that it will, in fact, be okay.