Today is your birthday. Happy 60th birthday.
Why exactly I’m writing this to you, I’m not completely sure that I know. I think it has something to do with a television comedy I saw a few weeks ago. In it, the main character’s dad dies unexpectedly. The entire episode is dedicated to the question: what were dad’s last words to me? I struggle with this often. I tell people, I have a dad, but I don’t really have a dad. Then I change the subject. In that way, I am like you.
While I do have tons of memories of spending time at your house…I can count on my hands the times we have spent together. Just us. I do cherish those times. They are memories that I hold onto tightly. They don’t change the bad though. They don’t discount the neglect, emotional abuse and hatred that your wife bestowed onto me. All of which, you let her do.
It would be easy for me to walk away. To pretend you don’t exist. In a lot of ways, you don’t. I don’t think about you when I plan vacations or holidays. I’ve actually been about 30 miles away from your house four times in the last year and haven’t bothered to stop and say hello. Twice I even pointed out your freeway exit to Liz, as we drove by. I don’t think about calling you when something bad happens, or something good for that matter. You are there, but not there, if that makes sense. Which it may not. For me, that has been your role since I was six years old. The man I called daddy, whether you deserved that term of endearment or not.
At times people will ask me why I even bother. Why do I send you birthday and Christmas cards? Why do I call once a month? A lot of times, I have no answer. Right now, I do. In this moment, I have my answer.
In case something were to happen tomorrow, I don’t want my last memory of you to be our last conversation. The conversation where you invited me to your birthday party. The one that is three states away. With only ten days notice. I know and you know, why you did this. Because she doesn’t really want me there. You both know I can’t afford to plan a vacation for the kids and I, with no notice. You wouldn’t have mentioned it at all, except you knew that one day someone would say something about it to me and I’d be pissed. That was literally your parting comment to me. If you died tomorrow, that would be your last words to me. You told me, only to save yourself the trouble later.
You do that often. You engage with me, maybe with everyone, only enough to save yourself drama later. In a lot of ways, it’s a sad way to be. However, after all these years, I understand why you do it. You chose easy. You decided way back when, to do as little as possible to make it through life. When I was six years old, you chose her. Her and her horrible monster children, over us. That’s life. I’ve spent much of my life wondering what I did wrong as a six year old. Logically, I know it wasn’t me. It had nothing to do with me. She did that; your wife. She never liked me, because I was a girl. I can’t change that, nor can I change that you were married once before her. I can only hope that you are happy with your choice.
It’s funny to me that your wife dislikes me as much as she does, because she feels I am too much like mom. In truth, I am much more like you. Except that I am emotional and I love with my whole heart, that I did get from mom.
This wasn’t what I wanted to write about. Really, it wasn’t. I just know why I always try. I know why I call, even though we only discuss the weather. I know why I send cards.
While your last words to me will never be something I hold onto, I always want you to have mine. It’s sort of the opposite. One day when something happens, no matter when it is, it may comfort me. See, every time we hang up or at the end of every card, I say: I love you. Sometimes you say it back. Sometimes you say ditto. Other times you just hang up. It doesn’t matter. It stopped mattering years ago.
I can’t change you, only me and I choose love.
If something unexpected happened tomorrow, I will always know that you knew that I loved you. That will have to be enough.
I do dad, no matter what. I love you.
Happy birthday daddy, I hope it’s a great one.
I have opened and closed this page for almost two hours now. I’ve found myself doing it more and more lately. I know that eventually, I will find my words again. I always do. Right now? I don’t have any. None to spare at least.
Winter is well….winter. I’m in the middle of it right now. My words take longer to find. They needed to be coaxed out and I don’t seem to have the energy to spare for that task.
I hope you guys will be patient with me.
So my cousin, she says to me. It’s been a year. Over a year now. Are you going to try dating?There are great dating sites out there, maybe you should try one?
Um no, I answer. I’m not ready. I don’t care to date. I’m not sure I will ever care.
You know, ever is an extremely long time.
Yes, I know that. I’m just not even thinking about it yet. Can we talk about something else though? What school did Trevor pick?
The conversation easily changes when I bring up her son and his college goals. He’s a high school football champion, getting a full ride. Boy got offered six full rides. Anyway, we talk kids for the next 15 minutes and then we hang up.
A year. It’s been a year. I don’t….
Can I be honest? Are you guys okay with that?
I’m still in love with Logan. Not in the, I’d get back together with him, way. Nor in the, I’m sitting here pining away for something lost, type of way. Those ships have both sank. Dam icebergs.
Yet, I am still in love with him. I’ve never loved anyone else. I don’t know that I’m capable of moving past this. I don’t know how to date. I’ll be completely honest, it doesn’t interest me in the least right now. The thought of dating really hasn’t crossed my mind. Not in a positive way at least. The thought of trusting someone else? I can’t imagine that. He was all I have ever known. Maybe he was it for me.
I didn’t ask for him to leave me. I’d of stayed with him forever, no matter what. I have learned to live without him. Mostly. I’m still working on that in some ways. I have gotten stronger. I do what I want, when I want and how I want. He might have broken me though. Maybe I broke me. I’m not exactly sure yet.
However, I don’t know that I believe in marriage anymore. I don’t know that I’d ever want to do it again. Truly, I can’t imagine dating right now. Maybe I’m just not there yet. Maybe I’ll never be there. Does it matter? Do I fail life if I raise amazing kids and end up alone?
Some days I’m lonely. Some days I wish I had someone there when I went to bed and when I woke up. I had that though and it was amazing. How can anyone ever compete with what I thought I had? Would I ever want anyone too? I don’t have answers. Just tons of unanswered questions.
What I am sure of is this: I am not ready to talk about dating. I am not ready to date. If that means there is something wrong with me as a person, well we’ll just add it to the already long ass list.
I listen to the same song all day. It’s what I do when I find a new one I love. Then on day two, I add it to a play-list. A play-list of songs I’m in love with. The current one has about twelve songs on it. It varies, depending on my mood. Music is on in my house, from the second I wake up, until I go to bed. (Except when the TV is on in the evenings.) Music is as important in my life, as breathing. In fact, it helps me breath. I could live without a lot of things, but not without music.
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On a morning like today, after a night of almost no-sleep, I tend to get panicky. It happens after over-thinking all night long. This morning, I reached for my iPhone before I got too far. An email. A photo. A few texts. I instantly felt the panic subside. I am not alone. This morning, in my house, in my bed, I was not alone. Even though, no one else is here (except the dog), I stopped feeling so alone.
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Walgreen’s near my house has Slurpee’s. There is something so off about that.
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There is a job interview tonight. Will it be the one? Will it be what I need? Can I get my own health insurance, since they don’t offer it.? I don’t know. What I know is that after work, I have a job interview. Even if it’s not right, at least I know I’m moving forward. I could really use some good thoughts tonight, if you have any to spare.
Because today, I need a reminder.
1. Making up words and definitions. I’ve always loved doing this. Today? I’ve decided that saying: to Internet, is a verb. As in, I am too tired to Internet today. See? It works. Done. I’ve made it so. The end.
2. Instagram. It’s a photo sharing app. If you use it, you can look for me. My name on there is Issascrazyworld. (I call it tying to make it easy for everyone. Cough. *lazy* Cough.) Really though? What’s not to love? You take cute photos. You can share them on Twitter/Facebook if you want. It also saves all of them to your iPhone photos. It’s just a great app. Here see:
3. This season of Top Chef. It makes me laugh.
4.Flickr. I know, I’m way late to the game. However after loosing a years worth of photos two weeks ago, I am bound and determined to never have that happen again. I upgraded to Pro in seconds, because I found old CD’s that had photos of the girls as babies and toddlers and well, I wanted to upload them. It’s the first step in making photo books, which is something I’ve wanted to do for years. Now to organize nine years worth of photos.
5. All of you. For reading. For supporting me. For giving me the space to say, I’m having a hard time, for no apparent reason. For believing for me that it won’t last, when I have trouble believing.
I feel it creeping in. Like a cold, it shows up so slowly that it takes a while to notice it’s there. It starts out in my chest making it feel a bit heavy. I can explain that away at first. Maybe it’s just part of the cold I had last week. Maybe it’s the cold windy weather. I try to explain it away.
Next it creeps into my limbs making them tired and sore. I get tired all of the time, yet I have trouble falling and staying asleep. We did too much this weekend, I think at first. Yet I know that’s not really it.
By then it’s in. It starts to attack my head. It makes me tired and grouchy. It makes me sad. It makes me over question everything. I start to worry about nothing. About everything.
It does this to me. Depression does this to me.
I’m fighting it. I feel like I’m fighting it tooth and nail. Some days, I’m not sure I’m going to win. Today it has won. Depression 1, Issa 0.
Early morning quiet. Sun still sleeping.
Thinking about life. Worrying about life.
Work to accomplish, list mile long.
House a disaster, must be cleansed.
Chilly in my room. Bed toasty.
5am. Still my Achilles heel. Dam.
*****
Early still. Could get up. Nah.
Sun starting to rise a bit.
Twitter is quiet. No words yet.
Dog just tossed her own ball.
Clunk, clunk, clunk. Silly odd dog.
6am. Wish I was still asleep.
*****
Showered. At desk. Happy it’s Friday.
Check Twitter. Facebook. New obsession Instagram.
Work. Loads of work. Don’t wanna.
Is it five yet? No? Dang.
Venti mocha will hopefully revive me.
Wish Starbucks delivered. Big money maker!
7am. Off for coffee now. YAY!
This post is brought to you by an over worked, tired Issa….and Six Word Fridays.
ps. It’s been brought to my attention that today is de-lurking day. I’d love to hear from any lurkers. If you want. I’ll tell you what, leave me a comment and I promise I will come visit you and comment on your post today.
First, before you read this, please take a few minutes and go read the Wall Street Journals oh so lovely article on Why Chinese Mothers are Superior.
Did you read it? It’s okay…I’ll wait.
So. What did you think? Aren’t you glad that woman wasn’t your mother? I know I am. Thrilled in fact. I’m also happy to report that I’m not a superior mother either. My kids will one day thank me, I’m sure. **makes mental note to save article to share with kids one day in their teens**
Being a superior mother, seems like it’d be way too much work. I’m really okay with just being on the good mother level. Some days, even the fine mother level. It’s much more fun.
Don’t get me wrong, I expect a lot out of my children. I expect them to try hard in school. I do not expect perfection though. I expect them to respect others and themselves. I expect them to try at things, even when it’s hard. Mostly though? I expect them to become good, productive, responsible members of society one day. I don’t think that’s a horrible way to be.
I don’t need them to be the best mathematicians for them to get my praise. They don’t have to be brain surgeons one day, for me to be proud of them. Yesterday? I praised my son for throwing up in the bucket the second time and not all over his bed again. This morning, I thanked my oldest daughter for getting dressed without argument. I praise my children for things big and small. I encourage my children. I tell them how smart and amazing they are. Because they are. I tell them multiple times everyday, how much I love them. I didn’t hear it enough as a kid, I often wondered if my parents loved me at all. I won’t make that mistake with my kids.
I would never, ever tell my children that they are garbage. I don’t think that it’s a successful parenting tool. Personally, I think that breeds insecurity and low self-esteem. But what do I know, I’m not superior.
I want my children to be children. My girls have tried different sports. They’ve done art classes. Currently the favorites are dance and gymnastics. When that changes? I will gladly sign them up for whatever they want to try. As long as they are having fun, I’m okay with it. Begin a child, should include fun. Lots of fun. My girls will not become horrible ax murdering, non working people, because they don’t play soccer. Or the violin. Dude, have you heard a kid playing the violin? It’s horrible. I’ll pass on that one, thanks.
My kids go to sleepovers. We go see movies. They play wii games and watch *GASP* television. They get invited to way too many birthday parties and spend their weekends jumping around at Pump It Up and playing Cosmic bowling. My son is only two and he gets to have play-dates. See, I think it’s good to get them out of the house. I find it nice. Pleasant even. Mostly though? I’d like my kids to lead full lives. Full lives includes having friends.
I don’t see anything wrong with pushing your kids in school. To a degree. Not every child can make all A’s. To suggest it, is ludicrous. What does all A’s in school prove anyway? That you can learn in that one way. Great. Truly, that’s awesome. But it’s just one small piece of life.
I’d really like my kids be individuals. To be whoever it is, they are going to be. Will I push them to achieve things, yes I will. I won’t however shove them into a box and expect them to be only one way.
I have this line that I use, one that my dad used on me as a kid: You are my kids and you will not behave like that. I say it, when I stop them from doing something that they know they shouldn’t be doing, that other kids around them may be doing. I am considered strict in some ways. I call my kids on their shit. I don’t give in to public tantrums. I do expect good behavior. Are they perfect? Nope. I don’t expect that. I know there will be tantrums. I know they will whine. I know sometimes they make me so angry that I yell. This makes me a parent though.
However, I’m not “superior”. Heck, I’m probably not superior at anything, so I’m guaranteed I’m not at parenting.
I’m okay with it though. In fact, I prefer it. So, how about you. Anyone superior around here?
ps. I on purpose am not touching the race issue that was apparent in the article. I just won’t go there.
I easily get caught up in the drama of day to day life. Call it a character flaw if you will. I’m more of a glass half empty type of girl. At least at first. I tend to freak first and then do what needs to be done to move forward second. Just part of who I am.
I’m working on it. Although in a way, I’m sure I’ll do it forever. What can I say? I’m thirty years old. My personality is pretty set.
My goal, or unofficial goal for this year at least, was to try to remember the good things when life seems to be intent on kicking me down. I am done with therapy, because honesly I think at this point in my life, I’ve gotten all I can out of it. Maybe it comes from being the daughter of a shrink, but I am not willing to be that person who is in therapy for years. Not that there is a nything wrong with it. Not at all. It’s just not for me. I’d also like to get off my meds by the end of next summer, if possible. Maybe it’s not possible. Maybe I’m deluding myself. But it’s a goal.
The best thing I can learn to do, is learn to be more positive. To force myself to find the silver lining. To force myself to look at the good things in life, no matter how small. Until the day comes where I don’t have to force it.
Which is why, even though I’ve written a few depressing posts in the past few weeks, I’ve sat on them one day and then not ended up publishing them. I figure if after a day, it’s still in my face, I will hit post. If not, then I really just needed to write it out.
I’m in the middle of a huge job shift. May take me a few months to find one. It scares me. However? On the positive side…I do still have a job. I have a job for the next five months. At least. Most people don’t get that kind of notice. I did. I have five months to find something. I have five months to put money into my savings.
My great uncle passed this week. While it’s sad, it wasn’t really unexpected. I have to keep reminding myself, there are way worse ways to go, than dying in your sleep at 92 years old. He lived a long life. Filled with love and family. Really, everyone should hope to live and die that way. He was a great man, who will be very missed in our family.
Last week, my hard drive on my desktop crashed. I wasn’t able to save it. However, Apple replaced it for free, since this was the second one in less than two years. I had saved all of my documents, so I didn’t lose that. I lost music and photos. People, back up everything. Trust me on this one. I sent out a plea to family and have managed to get tons of photos of my kids sent to me. Some better than the ones I had. Music I can replace slowly over time. Yet, I didn’t have to pay a cent this weekend to fix my computer. I didn’t have to replace it. That’s big.
I have three amazing kids who are happy, healthy and thriving. They have a daddy who adores them. They are the most important thing in my world.
Blessings people. I’m working on remembering them. I make no promises, except that I’m trying.
1. Last night, I went into the kids bathroom to turn off the light that my six year old always gets up and turns on, once my nine year old is asleep. (Side story: One needs complete darkness to sleep, but falls asleep in seconds. One wants light and takes a bit to fall asleep. It’s taken till now to find a compromise.) When I walk in the room though, I realize the toilet wasn’t flushed. Again. I flushed it and it started to fill up. Because yes, what I want to do is unclog a toilet at 10pm. I thank the bathroom gods that it doesn’t over flow and go locate the plunger and unclog the toilet. Then I curse my children in my head…and in email to my bff’s, for not bothering to say, hey mom, the toilet is clogged.
This morning, when questioned why it’s so hard to just tell me, they both swear to god that it wasn’t them. One blamed the boy. Which in future years will likely be true. However at the present time? He wears DIAPERS! He does all his bid-ness in diapers. The other child? Swore it was me and I just forgot. Yeah. It was me. I forgot clogging the toilet. I forgot to flush the toilet. Because I knew the toilet fairy would take care of it for me. Sheesh. Really? Come on now, someone fess up.
2. Same children who woke me up by 6:45am every single morning that that they were home and with me over Christmas break? Have been late to school the last two mornings. Because they won’t wake up. (The first morning, was my fault. I set my alarm wrong. But still, when I woke up an entire hour late? They were all still asleep.) This morning, they were dragging. They had to basically be dragged out of bed. I just don’t understand. Is it a kid thing? Parent germ warfare? Sleep in during the week, be wide awake and talking and needing nourishment and crap at the butt crack of dawn on Sunday?
3. I can’t find my TV remote. I can turn my TV on without it, because I have the cable remote. I also have the DVD player remote. But not the actual TV remote. I’ve looked for it for the last hour. The boy, he hides it. He finds things hiding places. Of course today is his dad’s night too. Which sucks. Because I won’t be able to find the dam thing. He will, when I ask him tomorrow. But me? Not a chance. I have spend way to much of his very short two years and three months of life, trying to find the things that he hides.
Grab My Button!
I’m a joiner
