Six months shy of eighteen when he went and tried to sign up. We can’t take you yet son, they told him. I’ve graduated from high school. I have two brothers who are older and will take care of the family. You need strong men like me. Please take me.
I’ll tell you what. You come back in here tomorrow and tell me you turned eighteen yesterday and I’ll pretend we’ve never met.
He did. He went back the next day and joined the Air Force. Not yet eighteen. He was the third to the youngest in a farming family of ten. Didn’t really matter what he said to them, it wasn’t like he had proof of age. It wasn’t like he really needed it. Not in the early 1940′s. He was young and strong and willing to fight for his country. That was enough. Air Force was his choice because he’d always dreamed of flying.
He ended up flying supply and medical planes for the last few years of war. He was a good pilot. When the war was over he stayed in the Air Force. He liked the lifestyle. He slowly moved up in ranks. He trained men. He taught flight schools. He at some point got a degree in engineering and would oversee buildings being built in bases all over the world.
My Grandfather was career Air Force. He fought in two wars. He gave himself to this country. Yes he lived through both WWII and Korea. Yes he lived to be an 85 year old man. For that I am eternally grateful. But he gave himself to the Air Force at seventeen years old and never looked back. He gave up his choice of where to live based on where he was needed. He moved his family every 18 months or so my mothers entire childhood. She lived all over the world.
When anyone would ask if it bothered him, he’d say no. I’m doing what is needed to support my country. Simple answer, but I never doubted it’s truth.
Today is a day of remembrance. A day to be with our families and remember those who have served for and died for our country.
Today I remember.
Where are we going, we all kept asking. Five kids in the backseat of a Saab. January, 1987. All of us under 10 years old, but still it was a tight fit. Fine, fine, she said. I’ll tell you. It’s (insert my dad’s name) birthday this weekend, so we’re going down to Mexico for the weekend. Oh, we said. Okay. We went back to fighting over crayons and who was touching who.
Daddy, look, I said. Look, right there. It’s the sign for Disneyland. 10 miles away. Can we go there instead? No, sorry honey, we already have hotel reservations. Oh dang it, I said.
Hey, how about we pull over soon and get some drinks, how about that kids? Maybe milkshakes at In & Out, he said. Sounds okay we all said. I want strawberry Daddy, I said. I know, he smiled in the mirror at me, you always do.
He pulled off the highway at the Disneyland exit. This is so wrong, my step-sister said. Yeah, it’s like Mickey is taunting us, I added. Maybe we all should wave at him, my step-mom said. MEAN, my brother muttered loudly under his breath. Dad kept driving, not saying a word. He passed In & Out. Daddy, where are you going?
Oh I thought maybe, you know, we could just stop and see Mickey. All five us screamed. REALLY!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!! This is the best surprise ever, I said.
That was the only trip down to Disneyland where we stayed in the Disney Hotel. Three days, two nights at Disney. They tricked us. It was the plan all along. I was not yet seven years old and I don’t remember a ton of that trip. All Disney trips sort of run together in my head. I do remember this.
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Watch out, watch out, she said to us. Why mommy, we asked. The three of us had just gotten out of bed. The hot lava monster. I know I saw him lurking around here somewhere. Don’t touch the floor she said. Just walk on the pillows. She’d placed them throughout the tiny apartment.
Mommy look, there he is, my brother screeched, in the way only four year old boys can. RUN, she said. We hopped from pillow to pillow, all of us jumping onto her bed/our pull-out couch as soon as we got close to it. Phew, we’re safe.
Rainy Saturday in California. Hot lava monster never got us. Thank god, my mom was smart enough to throw the pillows down for us.
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How was the first day on the job, we asked him. He was fifteen, his first real job. My brother, all nine feet tall and gangly as all get out. It was fine he said, shrugging. They fed me for free, so that was cool. But whatever you do, never and I mean never, eat the lox, he said.
Why, we asked? Well see, they handed me some window cleaner and paper towels and told me to clean the screen that covers the food. When I sprayed it, some got on the lox.
We were rolling on the floor laughing.
DUDE!!!!!!!!!!!! You are supposed to turn away and spray into the paper towels and then clean the screen.
Oh, he says, with a serious look on his face, that makes so much sense.
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I turned around and they were all gone. Hmm, maybe they went to the next store, I thought to myself, as I continued looking at every single item. I had twenty bucks. I wanted to be sure I saw everything in the store before I made my decision. Oh the joys of being eleven years old.
After a few more minutes I went to pay for my items. Then I started looking for them. There were like sixteen people. Why can’t I find any of them. DAD!!! DADDY??? I started getting panicky. It was nighttime. It was near closing. I had no idea how long I’d been looking in the store alone. I was used to being ignored by them. I looked in the other two stores and didn’t see anyone. I closed my eyes for a second and said to myself, what do I do if they left me? WHAT IF I’M LOST HERE FOREVER. Okay breath. I find an adult in costume or a security guard and tell them I’m lost. Yes, I can do this. I’m lost. They left me. I can handle this.
I guess I’d said that last little bit out loud. When I open my eyes, I’m staring at a seven foot tall Frankenstein. I caught myself before I screamed. Honey are you lost, he asked? Either I am or my whole family left me, I said. Okay, well lets see what we can do about that. He led me to a security guard. Together we walked toward the entrance, because all the rides were shutting down and they figured they must have left.
We sat at the entrance together with a few other employees for about 15 minutes before my dad came running up. By then I’d been given a stuffed animal, an ice cream a t-shirt and a few more tokens. You need to make sure not to leave without your entire family, Beetle Juice told my dad. Seems everyone felt bad that I’d been left there at night. They’d been in the car, almost to the highway when my brother asked where I was. Am not surprised that he was the only one who missed me. Even at eleven, I wasn’t shocked about this. Frankenstein and Beetle Juice hugged me before I left.
Getting lost at Universal Studios and being found by Frankenstein? Kinda priceless.
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I hope it doesn’t rain every day, I said. We were leaving LA on vacation. Summer 1992. It’d rained for days, weeks even, prior to our trip. One of the rainiest springs and summers I remember.
Sixteen days. Thirteen states. Five kids in the backseat of a Suburban. It rained every day. I’m still living down, jinxing our vacation.
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A year ago today. One DM on Twitter, which led to several DM’s on Twitter. Which three days later led to a 25 string long DM fest, which then led to a late night Gmail Chat. My best friend. I didn’t know it then. But I know it now.
Something so small, a DM. 140 characters.
My best friend, my twin, my soul sister. Happy best friend day love. Can’t imagine my life without you in it.
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My new bebe: Stella. Born yesterday, May 24, 2010. 10 inches, 1.5 pounds. She’s amazing. I luff her.
Isn’t she beautiful?
I have downloaded some apps. Although, I’m still looking for suggestions of any you love. I had to force myself to stop playing around on it last night, after three solid hours. I also put it away this morning, so that I’ll work and clean some and not spend all day trying to beat someones score in Bejeweled or playing Words With Friends. My name is Issascrazyworld if you’d like to start a game. Just note, I won’t be on it until tonight.
I buy things for my kids all the time. But it’s really been a long time since I bought a toy for myself. This? Is my toy. I am in love with it. I told my kids I’d share it some, but not for a week. Even then, it’s still my toy. Although, I will share with my tiny son now. He’s too cute and little to not get to play a few games. Gotta start them young, you know?
I really have the funniest kid ever. Proof:
Bailey: Mama, you know, you shouldn’t put Stella and Edison (my Kindle) so close to each other.
Me: Why?
Bailey: They may have some tiny babies.
Me: SISTER!!!! Seriously. *covers Stella and Edison’s ears* They are tiny newborny’s. They won’t be having any babies.
Bailey: Stella and Edison sitting on the table. K.I.S.S.I.N…um G?
Me: *looks of horror*
Bailey: They could though. Little tiny iKans. Yeps, that’s what we’d call them. With a K mama. Cute baby iKans. We could sell them and get so rich. Then mama, I could have a new puppy right?
Me: Stop it. You’re a weirdo. There will be no puppies and no little baby iKans. The end.
Bailey: *evil laugh*
Me: *walks away to not bottle her and keep her at this age forever*
Half hour later in the car, as we pull up to the school.
Bailey: Mama?
Me: *pause* Yes?
Bailey: If we put Stella and Edison next to each other and got them a bit wet, maybe little iKans would just pop out of them. Like Pop, Pop, Pop. Three little babies.
Me: DUDE, no. WE ARE NOT GETTTING THEM WET. NOOOOOOO.
Bailey: If that happened, me and sissy and bubs could all have our own wee baby iKan.
Me: STOP IT. There will be no iKans. Go to school. You never get to even look at my iPad or Kindle. EVER again.
Bailey: Mama, you are so silly.
Me: Good-by, good luck. Nice knowing you. GO.
Bailey: Bye mama.
*throws her outta the car and drives away* Or something. Truly though, the kid is awesome. Who says that? Wee baby? Come on now. That’s comedic gold right there.
-Note to self: Gremlins was a bad choice of movie. Also? Have the no water near electronics talks again. For the millionth time.
You know those commercials? The, depression sucks the life out of everyone around you ones?
Yeah, those have a way of making me want to throw something at my TV. I don’t, only because I love my TV. The problem with those ads, is they are written by pharmaceutical companies. Or for them. Whatever. They are basically sprouting off that your (my) depression could be helped by their oh so wonderful med. Then you’d want to get out of bed. Then you’d have energy. Then your children and dog wouldn’t ever be sad. Or something.
I’m taking it out of context, I’m sure. It still annoys me.
Because I am depressed. Or more accurately, I suffer from depression. I’m not actually depressed as I’m writing this. It is a constant struggle though. I am medicated for it. Guess what though? The medication isn’t a magic pill. Does it help? Yes. Does therapy, yes. Mostly. Sleeping enough helps. Sometimes. When I can actually manage to sleep. I’m not a sleeper. It’s genetic. I take something for that too. Some nights it does help. Some it just doesn’t.
My depression likes the cold. It likes winter. It feeds on winter. I can keep it at bay easier in the summer. When the days are longer and the nights and darkness shorter. When I can play outside in the sun with my kids. When there is watermelon and cherries and ice cream in the house all the time. When music is loud and dance in the living room parties happen often. When I get a break from forcing children to do homework after school. Then? It’s easier. Not perfect, but a bit easier. My depression shrinks away from the sun. It’s not so fond of summer. I think it hibernates until it sees the jackets come out again.
It doesn’t matter what’s gone on during the week, it’s still there. I had a pretty good week last week, but I still woke up in a foul mood yesterday. I woke up in a, I could stay in bed all day and cry mood. I had gone to be in a good place and woke up in a pretty cruddy one. No idea why. It just is. I had three kids to hang out with, a sunny summery day to be out in and I managed to pull myself out of that mood. A sunny day outside with my kids helps. It isn’t a guarantee though. It could have just as easily been a shitty parenting day for me, filled with video games and too much TV for them, while I wallowed in my own head. It happens.
Yesterday it ended up okay. Yesterday was a great day, during a great sunny, warm weekend. I can’t always pull my self out of it. Sometimes I get lucky like yesterday and I can. Sometimes I fake it. Other times it’s just too bad and I do the bare minimum to get through my day.
I still hate those commercials though. If only it were as easy as the commercials make you believe.
My mom has this line she says periodically: If your dad hadn’t of moved us back to LA; if we’d just bought that house in San Diego, we’d probably still be married. Sometimes when she says it, she’s had a few too many glasses of wine. When she’s talking about the good old days. When she has something positive to say about him, which is very rare. That’s when she gets all sentimental. The wine does that. Sometimes she says it sober though, so I do think that she believes it to be true. Or at least a part of her does.
I have my doubts. I, no matter how many glasses of wine, can’t really picture it. I have asked her before and she really has no clue why she believes that. I think it’s because that is the last place she remembers them being really happy.
They were in their mid-twenties. They worked, partied, hung out on the boat. They lived in a rental that they could have bought. They had no kids when they lived there. They moved when she was six months pregnant with me. His theory being, we need to be surrounded by family when we have a baby. His theory is part of what killed their marriage. Or so she believes. This was a long time ago. I’m thirty years old. They were separated when I was four, divorced when I was five. She was never again happy with him, once they moved.
My theory has more to do with them having kids. She wanted kids, I don’t believe she ever asked his opinion on that. Not truly at least. I don’t know that he didn’t, but I am not sure that he did either. She sort of said, this is what we’re doing. He said okay. However, who knows. What I do know, is the responsibility of kids and a mortgage and the life they led when they moved back to Los Angeles, was the end of their happiness together. Which led to the end of their marriage.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I used to get tired of my mom saying this. I mean, she’s said this every now and then since I was say fifteen years old. And she was the one who left him. I think about it though.
I am not sure I remember when the last time Logan and I were truly happy together. Isn’t that sad? That I can’t even remember? Maybe I’ve blocked it out. Maybe it’s been so long that I just can’t remember it. Possibly we were each happy at separate times and we both believed the other was too? Maybe I don’t want to know, because then I have to accept the fact that neither of us had truly been happy in years. I like to pretend that this is all his fault, but in reality? There are two sides. He deserves to be happy and I deserve to be happy. Maybe we had it once, maybe we just thought we did. I’m really not sure anymore.
What I do know is that when asked (By my therapist this week. Thank god for mommies, because mine is helping me with the cost for a bit.): when was the last time you two were truly happy together? I don’t know the answer. On the outside we were once. But it’s been a few years. But on the inside? In truth? I just don’t know.
I used to roll my eyes at my mother, every time she said that about my dad. The, we were so happy there, line. Now? I love hearing her say it. Because it reminds me that once, they were happy. That once, long, long ago? My parents loved each other. That they, even if just for a short few years, were happy together.
I wish I could remember when Logan and I were, so one day, I can tell my kids. So one day they will roll their eyes at me. So one day they will be able to say, hey my mom and dad were happy together for a bit.
It’s a small thing. One that doesn’t take away their or my sadness. One that can’t change the outcome of what is happening right now. But maybe it would give them that small bit of knowledge, that small bit of love to hold onto.
We had to of been happy once.
We were roller blading in the school hallways. It was summer and this had become our daily routine. Schools in Los Angeles, generally have covered outside hallways. Perfect for hot days and mischievous kids in the summer.
I heard her scream before I saw that she’d fallen. That scream, the one of pain.
We’d been playing street hockey, then we’d decided to try and do some tricks. Her name was (is) Jory and she was new to the neighborhood. Her parents though she was in our backyard, not trespassing on school grounds. It was obvious her ankle was broken. She was sobbing and worried about being in trouble.
My baby brother sat down and took off his skates. He then carefully took off her skates. He tied the laces together and handed them to me. Then he picked her up and carried her home. 10 years old. Just picked up a 13 year old girl and carried her home. My baby brother, the hero.
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We were loud. I know we were. Four women in a restaurant with no kids or spouses. I’d like to be fair to them and state that we were loud. But dam it, we were in a freaking Beni Hauna’s. At 7pm. On a Friday night. Girl’s night. My birthday dinner. We were having fun. Talking, laughing, cracking each other up. There was eye rolling, joke telling, story sharing and an unfortunate incident with green tea ice cream, but it was all in good fun. For us at least.
The restaurant seats a table until it’s full, it’s just how they do it. Four of us, four of them. I remember hearing them speak, as they ordered their meal. That was it. There was some pointing. A lot of glaring. And one whispered, yeah, like that one right there. But nothing else was said. It was a birthday meal for them too, I know this because the servers sang to the woman, as they handed her an ice cream.
They didn’t say a thing the entire meal. Not a single word. It was so weird. It was like being at a table of aliens. Because every other table? Was full of laughing people having a good time. The four of us? Were laughing and having a fabulous time. They? Were not.
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Wait, babe, let’s go down to the beach really quick, I said to him. We’d just pulled onto our block. Why, he asked? Just do it. Okay, he said, as he turned the car around and drove down to the beach. He parked the car at our favorite spot and we got out.
I took my bundled burrito baby out of her car seat and the three of us walked down to the waves. I sat down and unbundled her. Two days old, five pound, twelve ounces of joy, dressed head to toe in white. Her going home outfit. I carefully took off her little socks and rolled up her pants. Then I stood up, looked around (because I was unsure if I was allowed to be doing this) and walked to the waves. I dunked her little feet in the water, on the next wave. Then I took her to the sand and pressed her feet into the sand. Two days old. I wrote her entire name next to it and her date of birth, December 7, 2001. One more quick foot dunk to wash off the sand and I re-bundled her up. Then we went home.
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Las Brisas. A random Tuesday. I’d called in sick and asked my mom if she could do the same thing. I just needed some mommy time. I was debating moving to Colorado and needed her to help me make a pro/con list.
We drove the coast the entire way there. Santa Monica down to Laguna Beach. Just a little Mexican restaurant, not the best, but still good. Best Lemon Drops in all of California. It’s the location. Perched on the top of a cliff, overlooking a rose garden and the coast.
We walked through the garden, climbed down to the beach for a bit and then sat there at a table for hours. Laughing, talking. Never once even brought up Colorado.
Somehow I knew by the ride home, what I was going to do. Even though, she never said a word.
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His first birthday. I didn’t think I had it in me to do a thing for it, but somehow I pulled it out of myself last second. My tiny boy. A boxed cake, with store bought frosting. One little cake for him, one big cake for the rest of us. Couple of sprinkles left over from something else; Christmas possibly. One solitary candle. Few gifts, few cousins.
No shirt, no shoes, great service.
He looked all pensive, as he always does at new things. He didn’t cry when we sang, but he had no interest in blowing out his candle. I did it for him. He stuck one tiny finger in his cake and then brought it to his mouth. OOOOOOOHHHHH he said, upon tasting the cake. His eyes got all big. He reached for more, whole hand this time. My boy. One.
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A park bench on the coast. Watching the waves roll in. Talking some. Comfortable silence some. Laughing at the two picnic chairs left on the beach, which the waves are now rolling all over. Making up stories about the people who left two chairs sitting there. A lost in the moment type day. Where reality doesn’t seem so harsh. Where the sun is perfect, the air is perfect and the company is the best kind there is.
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Anyone want to go fishing or crabbing tomorrow? No, they all said. I was not surprised. A room full of teens. Getting up at 4:45am for fun, wasn’t something any of us did. Ever. I was surprised when I heard myself say, sure dad, I’ll come with you.
Two coffees and two breakfast burritos to go. I never knew people ate this early, I told him. He laughed. Yeah, we’re all not teens he said. Sitting on the dock in Pacifica, eating breakfast, as he put dead fish into the crab traps. Just us. I was seventeen and couldn’t remember the last time I’d been alone with him.
We didn’t catch a single fish or crab that morning.
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It’s okay mommy, she said after she fell off the monkey bars. It wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t afraid. You know what mama, she said as she walked up to me. What, love? The only thing to be afraid of is fear. It’s the thing that gets ya in the end. Bailey, four years old. My heart, my mini-me. So full of wisdom, even as such a small girl.
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What is that smell mama? I don’t know she said. It smells like strawberries in here. What did we leave in the car? Oh my word, she said. WHAT, we asked her? Look. She pointed to the back seat, the panel above the trunk. There was a pile of multi-colored goo. What was sitting here, she asked us. Oh no, on no, on no, my brother said as he cried. He covered his eyes, the way little boys do when they don’t want to see you. What was it baby, she asked him. It was sissies Strawberry Shortcake dolls. ALL OF THEM, I asked? Yes, all of them.
It’s okay buddy, I said. Really it’s okay. I have other dolls. Plus, it smells so pretty in here. It did too. For months afterward, the car smelled all sweet.
**I had probably 12 of those little strawberry shortcake dolls. The entire set. 100 degree day, black Volvo, 8 hours in the sun? They met an untimely death.
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I really wish I was still in the mountains. We drove up there on Friday afternoon/evening. I went and took Morgan out of school an hour early, mostly to make it easier on her father when he picked up Bailey. See, we decided to just not tell any of the kids that I was doing this. It did make it easier for all involved. The look on her face, when I told her why I’d come to get her early? Priceless.
It was a five hour drive; through: rain, sleet, hail, snow and a pretty impressive thunder and lightening storm. Oh and the fog was insane. I tend to have issues on mountain passes. However as we climbed up to the major one we had to drive over, it was so foggy, I couldn’t see over the edge of the mountains. It made it easy to pretend I was just driving on any random highway.The roads were just wet, so it wasn’t ever a problem. I just had to drive slower than I normally would have. It was only a four hour drive home.
Morgan talked pretty much the entire way up there, which was no different than any other waking second of her life.
It was interesting, but the farther I drove, the more relaxed I got, despite the insane weather. I am pretty sure I needed this trip as much as my girl did. Maybe more. We had fun, drove around the entire town (Which only has two major intersections. Major being, one three way stop sign and one four way stop sign.) and saw a ton of the outer areas as well. It’s a ski resort town and we were staying in a family members vacation home. Their vacation home? I could fit my house into it twice. It was gorgeous. Breathtaking views, out of every single window. There was a hot tub on the deck, where we spent a bunch of time.
We played a cut throat game of Monopoly, where I realized that my kid cheats as much as I do. I finally let her win, not because she or I cared who won, but just to end the game already. We played for two hours on Friday night and by hour three of the same game on Saturday, I was just over it.
We ate out. I let her have more candy and treats in three days than she normally has in two weeks. We sat in the hot tub and talked for hours. She told me silly jokes and I told her silly stories about when she was a crazy toddler. We discussed the reality that is our life. The fact that her dad and I aren’t getting back together. Which sucked. That conversation just sucked. I’ll just leave it at that. We took turns reading a book I’d downloaded onto my Kindle. One she’d been wanting to read. We took six walks. We met tons of nice people.
Everyone we came across was friendly. Too friendly. I only say that, because I could seriously see the draw of living up there. Which scares me a little. I am the last person who could ever make it in a town of 2,000 people. I am the last person who could survive 7-8 months of winter. After this past weekend? I can see the draw. I can see how it would be a great place to raise my kids. I have mentioned I’m crazy, right? I mean, there is no Starbucks in that town. Or a Target within 200 miles. Or any single fast food restaurant. None. At all. I’d have to learn to cook to live there.
I’m not ready to be home. I didn’t honestly want to come home yet. I have tons of things planned this summer, which is a good thing. Because I, like my daughter, don’t really like the reality that is my life right now. All I can do though, is keep making baby steps and moving forward. I’m finding that weekends spent elsewhere, tend to help with this.
And that’s what I know. Well that and the fact that I didn’t sleep well the entire time (Hard beds. impressive lightening storms at 3am. Sleeping with a snoring child.) and my brain is still on vacation. Which is why it took me until 11am to remember that neither of my best friends were going to be working, or online today. Also why I went to put gas in my car this morning and parked on the wrong side. Which is awesome, considering I’ve owned this car for nearly five years now.
My brainz? They are still on a mountain somewhere.
Because I’m thinking it’s becoming a need.
No joke. Gmail has barely worked all week. I open it and it says I’m not there. It won’t send my emails. Then sometimes it does work. But only for a bit. It’s like it’s napping 94% of the time. I’ll get emails to my phone that won’t show up in my inbox for hours. I can’t even discuss the Gchat issues, because that make me want to cry. But hai, it stops mid-sentence and kicks me out. Or sometimes the person I’m talking too. For some odd reason, it rarely kicks us both out at once. WTF is that about? It also is randomly sending me emails. Gchat is sending me emails. Why? I don’t know. But it is. Of current conversations that I’M STILL HAVING!! Emails that I have opened six times, but it’s convinced it’s still a new email to be read.
Facebook isn’t any better. It’s only sending status update emails when it feels like it. Which is very convenient. I’d like to try that. I’ll only feed my children when it’s convenient for me. I’ll only put gas in my car when I feel like it. I’ll only pay my bills every 13th month. It sends me things at odd hours. I got something yesterday that was a note from someone from FOUR DAYS AGO. Um, hi, I’ve already been on FB and replied to that and the person already responded and then I responded again. I’m betting I’ll get those sent to me this weekend.
And Twitter….oh special little Twitter. I have seen the fail whale more times this week, then in the last three months alone. You get on one second and then the next second you aren’t on. It lets you send tweets sometimes and others it’s loading for 5 minutes and somehow your tweet didn’t get posted. I’ve taken to copying every tweet before I hit publish, just because I get tired of re-writing them. It sends DM’s hours later and sometimes four of the same one. It sends them out of order too, so you feel like you’re having a conversation backwards an upside down.
It’s like the Internet is failing. It needs to get it’s shit together. I’m tired of this. And yes, it’s all about me. Ha.
I’m about to purchase these things I think I remember….stamps? I’ll need to buy paper too. Where does one buy paper and stamps? Anyone remember?
Also, are carrier pigeons still around? Know where I can get one of those? Do we have to go back to cans and string? Do you think cans and string would make it to Oregon and California?
But, for serious? My two best friends live in different states. This? Is how I communicate with them. This is how I communicate with all of my friends. The Internet is my lifeline. It needs to step up it’s game. Now.
There are days when I think I won’t make it through the pain. That its just too much for me. That I’m not strong enough for it. I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could turn back time to the day I let my secrets show and take it all back. I wonder if I’d of been happier just keeping it quiet forever.
Each day, something comes to mind, that makes me think, I was better not thinking about it. It doesn’t help me to realize the small things in my life that could have been different, if it weren’t for what all happened to me as a kid.
It’s been a long, really hard, very dark grey winter. I need spring. I need summer. I need sunshine. I don’t need more weeks of cold and rain and snow in fucking May. I can’t handle more grey. My head is so grey some days, I could really use the outside world to be bright.
I got a phone call from my brother. Just to talk about the trip I’m taking to his house next month. I said, hey, you know what, keep this between us okay? I don’t really want dad knowing I’m coming. Oh shit sis, he said. You are about two days two late.
I am spazzing out tonight. I unfortunately am gifted at this part. I can’t let it go. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop wishing that I could be happy to go see my dad.
It only matters that my dad knows, if he tells his wife, who may then tell her children. Shouldn’t matter, but it does. It does matter. I don’t have to see them. Honestly I won’t have time. If I did, I’d make sure I didn’t. But I don’t. That doesn’t make me feel any better though.
All I want to do is cry. I want to curl up in a ball and disappear. I want to run away to that island my friends and I talk about on shitty days. We talk about it, like it’s the island Kenny Chesney does his music videos on. Right now? I’d take the island that Tom Hanks talked to a volleyball on for years.
I am 30 years old and I’m scared of a phone call. From someone who can’t hurt me anymore. From someone who wouldn’t bother to show up where I was even if he knew where I was, because he could care less. That knowledge, doesn’t make me any less terrified.
He called me on my birthday. Because the next day was his birthday, we were born in the same year, he unfortunately is smart enough to remember this. Can’t keep a job or an apartment, can’t act like a human being, but oh he can remember my fucking birthday. Every few years he re-finds my number and calls me. I used to brush it off. I couldn’t this year. Even now? Three weeks later? I’m still having nightmares.
I am not brave enough for this. I am not strong enough for this. I want to shut this back away. This fear. This reality. I don’t want to remember. I want to forget.
I know I can’t and it sucks. I know I have to deal with it alone for awhile and it sucks. The fact that I can’t afford to send my child and I both to therapy, sucks. She comes first. Always. She is in need, she is hurting, this all I know. There is no question. I do wonder how long I can go without talking. Because talking does help.
There are people with way more problems than me. I know this. I see it every single day. I wish I had a magic wand to help, but I don’t.
I can’t even seem to help myself. I can’t stop being afraid of nothing. Logically I know that because my brother said my mom will be showing up at his house too, my dad will never tell his wife. Who won’t mention it to her children. Because really? She hates me and wouldn’t want to see me and never brings me up in conversation on purpose. Logic and fear though, don’t mix so well.
I’m afraid tonight. The fear is winning. I’m sad tonight. I’m depressed. And I can’t do a dam thing to stop it.
Grab My Button!
I’m a joiner
