tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68927265588264872032024-03-14T07:03:20.892-04:00Starting over with everything and nothingThe true story of me.... my beautiful little girl, lost love and the road to a better place.mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-76011746884770279472013-05-08T22:50:00.001-04:002013-05-09T15:27:24.776-04:00I forgot. <br />
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I never said I fell in love did I? </div>
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I forgot to tell you that. </div>
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Maybe not forgot, but hid it.... because it wasn't perfect and it wasn't easy... and it was beyond messy. </div>
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I fell in love. </div>
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Like never before. </div>
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Quickly and without warning. </div>
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It happened. </div>
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Long ago. </div>
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Well it seems like that. </div>
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It was the first and only time I was myself. Myself from the beginning and right up until the end. The myself that only the best of the best see... The real me. </div>
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But an end came. </div>
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I was devastated. </div>
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The timing could not have been worse, it was the start of what I will always recall as the hardest year of my life. </div>
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It was weeks after my dad's diagnoses.... and I was officially broken. </div>
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Only to be followed quickly by the death of my grandfather, and later the loss of apple and my dog Mason. </div>
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The cycle of loss didn't seem to end. </div>
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I was battered and bruised and more alone then ever. I struggled more than I let on. </div>
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I had felt pain like never before. </div>
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As a person who was as amazing as I am at being numb....I felt like every nerve ending in my body was on fire. </div>
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I had no way to put out the fire.... but I felt it every single day. </div>
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The problem is, although the relationship ended... it never really did. </div>
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It ended because of circumstance and two single parents trying to raise good children. </div>
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It ended because two people couldn't find time for an "us". </div>
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It ended for reasons that I will never agree with and never really understand. </div>
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But it continued because I had been "myself" and we had fit into each other like nothing else ever had.</div>
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It continued because I let it. </div>
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It continued because he could never let go. </div>
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But as time moved on, I began to realize that I needed more. </div>
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I started to understand that I needed someone to hold my hand on the bad days. </div>
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I started to understand that I wanted someone to show up. </div>
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I started to understand that my life needed to be lived not stood still waiting. </div>
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And so we tried, again and again. </div>
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To be those people that had a happy ending. </div>
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But we never became that. </div>
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We became two people that could stare at each other across a desk and want nothing more than to go make dinner for our children but had no idea of how to do it together. </div>
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My life as I know it is eclipsed by Apple. </div>
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She makes me understand and feel what real love can be like and what real life is. </div>
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Last week she told me I was the "love of her life". </div>
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I have always known she was the love of mine.</div>
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So the other love I felt, became replaceable and almost insignificant in comparison. </div>
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Is alone difficult? </div>
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Yes. </div>
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Is alone where I have learned to live...</div>
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Yes. </div>
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Is alone where I will reside forever? </div>
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No. </div>
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Am I terrified? </div>
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Yes. </div>
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But will I do it all over again now..... Just to see if it will work.....</div>
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Yes. </div>
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Wish me luck. </div>
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mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-3359863342148449942012-12-23T23:17:00.001-05:002012-12-23T23:17:50.490-05:00What will never be. It is always the look back. <div>
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It is the look back that will send you into complete and utter hysteria. </div>
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You know the one. </div>
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When someone is walking away and you don't know when or how they will return. </div>
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They look back one last time. </div>
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And a piece of you cracks inside. </div>
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My dad looked back. </div>
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He walked closely behind my mother but stopped before he rounded the corner. </div>
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He looked at me. </div>
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I mouthed.... "I love you" one last time as if it might make the difference. </div>
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<div>
Then I was alone. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In a room full of sorrow... I was alone. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That silence that I fear so much crept into my brain. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Words I had heard before ran threw my mind... "No one is coming to save you..."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It got louder and louder. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It filled my mind. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I held the arms of the chair. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I had to get up and I had to move </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I went to get a coffee....</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That's when this day takes the kind of turn only I can tell you about. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I stood in a line a mile long to get a coffee and a croissant. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My mind was racing. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My mouth didn't move right when I ordered. She asked me again and again... "What do you need??"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I got my debit card out and swiped. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Instantly I was declined. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We tried again. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then again. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It wouldn't work. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The same lady who barked at me now looked at me with contempt..... "It won't work"...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I said "Obviously there is a problem with your chip reader"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"What?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"I work here... I point at the debit card"....."I work here, I have money" ---- I did not say this quietly. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I wanted everyone to hear me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I let this be my focus. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I noted the kind eyes in the man behind me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Like he had been in this situation before. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Seriously, here is my mastercard... it'll be fine...." as I smile at the crowd around me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Mam... we don't take mastercard"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Where is a bank machine, because like I said I have money in this"----pointing to the bank card again..</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Over there Mam...." pointing without looking at me...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I wanted to die. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I hauled ass to that bank machine and I punched my pin hoping everyone was watching me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I got money out. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I ran back over with the money and the receipt incase anyone might want to check. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I waved it... to show everyone </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She quietly told me that the gentleman behind me had already paid. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I looked around quickly and spotted him. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I started to explain and he said "It's ok".... It is Christmas after all... he quietly explained. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We walked in the same direction. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I wanted to tell him how scared I was. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I wanted to tell him what was really wrong. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I had learned my lesson earlier this year about going down that road. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We walked to the same area, and I said "Thank you" again and he walked into the area my Dad would be waiting in. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I looked at the door and it sunk in quickly. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The man who had just bought my coffee was my father's doctor. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now all I could do was wait. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I drank my coffee and prayed for that man to do two good things today. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I looked around the room, at people younger and older than me feeling the same way I was. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now maybe more than ever understanding I won't be saved, but I am never alone. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They walked out shortly after that. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She got to me before he did. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Her eyes told me nothing.... but the instant hug she gave me did. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"It's ok now, he's going to be ok"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I felt my legs shake. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I remained strong. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The words I have needed had finally been said out loud. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I listened to him make his appointment. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
His body was nervous and jumpy. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As soon as it was done, he walked quickly over to us and held her. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then they kissed. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not "passionately" but enough for me to turn away. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He looked at me after and said "Its over Meg, Its what we wanted" </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Everything I had been holding onto for a year felt like it rushed from my body and into the air. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I gripped him. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tightly. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I did not want to let go. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I touched his face as our hug ended and I truly thanked god. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That I would have him for another day. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For many days. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So much of this year has been about this day and what it would bring. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and as you all spend time with your families, I want to remind you of something. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No matter what.... Be grateful, Be happy and Enjoy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I look at these next few days as a gift. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I begged for this, I prayed for this and I got exactly what I wanted. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I go to bed tonight grateful and thankful. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-36500368224745347542012-12-17T22:46:00.000-05:002012-12-17T22:46:13.146-05:00tell me it'll be the end of this. I sit tonight and wait for tomorrow.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Tomorrow we will go to get his final scan.<br />
<br />
1030.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For months I have known the date and the time.<br />
<br />
I have waited.<br />
<br />
I have wanted.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But now, I dread it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Tomorrow we know.<br />
<br />
<br />
Tomorrow we have answers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe tomorrow.<br />
<br />
Maybe tomorrow I stop holding my breath.<br />
<br />
Maybe tomorrow the anxiety will lessen.<br />
<br />
Maybe tomorrow I will say "that's what was wrong"<br />
<br />
Maybe tomorrow it'll all go away.<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe tomorrow the pause stops.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear god.<br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-36029052523084998162012-11-17T23:11:00.003-05:002012-11-17T23:11:49.213-05:00Sometimes you need more. I know you'll read this.<br />
<br />
Because I remember you and the way you operate.<br />
<br />
<br />
I know you'll read this.<br />
<br />
You will roll your eyes and refute each word I write.<br />
<br />
<br />
I know you'll read this and I know you'll know... you'll look in the mirror tonight before you go to bed and you will know.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
She laid on me last week and asked you a direct question.<br />
<br />
She asked you why you didn't want to live with us anymore.<br />
<br />
You didn't answer.<br />
<br />
You cried.<br />
<br />
You stood in my home and cried.<br />
<br />
I saw your pain.<br />
<br />
I watched and waited for you to tell her something that would make sense.<br />
<br />
<br />
You cried.<br />
<br />
I waited.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Then I cleaned up your mess.<br />
<br />
<br />
Again.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I explained to our daughter how lucky she was to have two families that love her.<br />
<br />
<br />
I told her all of the bullshit things the books tell me to say.<br />
<br />
<br />
I watched you.<br />
<br />
<br />
You winced when I said her name.<br />
<br />
<br />
When I told our daughter how lucky she was that you and her "loved apple".<br />
<br />
<br />
You winced.<br />
<br />
<br />
I watched you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I didn't cry.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I was strong.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I am always strong.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You always thought it was you... didn't you?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You always thought you carried me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Do you get it now?<br />
<br />
<br />
That it's me?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It has always been me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I make this work.<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't break or fail.<br />
<br />
<br />
Ever.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Go to bed tonight knowing that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I get back up and I keep going.<br />
<br />
<br />
And now....you need to do the same.<br />
<br />
<br />
You need to think of some real answers to her questions.<br />
<br />
<br />
You need to come up with a reason.<br />
<br />
<br />
Here is where you should pause stop backtracking and rack that brain of yours.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You are intelligent..<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I know you are.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I actually still tell people that.... how god awful smart you are.<br />
<br />
<br />
So think of something to say.<br />
<br />
Please.<br />
<br />
Not a lie.<br />
<br />
Not a glossy bullshit story about how we stop loving each other because thats not true is it?<br />
<br />
<br />
Tell her a version of the truth that will make sense.<br />
<br />
<br />
Because without a doubt one day she will find out what you did.<br />
<br />
<br />
Not just to me, but to her.<br />
<br />
<br />
You need to explain it.<br />
<br />
<br />
In your words.<br />
<br />
In your way.<br />
<br />
<br />
With strength and resolute that you did the right thing for all of us.<br />
<br />
<br />
I look forward to the answer.<br />
<br />
<br />
I always have.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-53424002079252562652012-08-20T22:24:00.002-04:002012-08-20T22:24:47.161-04:00the precedent and the priority.She often wakes me before the alarm goes off.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's way too early, and I still need to run and shower and get ready for work... so this is not something i want to happen. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But it happens. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'll ask her what's wrong and she'll tell me about the dream she had or how the blankets don't feel cold. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I need her to go back to bed. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I need her to understand I have a lot of shit to do before she can get out of bed... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She is persistent and highly articulate about what her "needs" are. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I either get into bed with her or she is coming into mine. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My frustration is boiling over at this point.... my sentences are always very broken and sharp... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"I can't"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Just sleep"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"It's fine"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Her kind eyes are piercing. My heart aches to do the right thing.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't have time... I never have enough time. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I get it now though. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She wants it.... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She wants that time with me... that time that I will just lay with her and be "hers"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I get it because I want the same.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I sit with him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He looks tired.<br />
<br />
So god awful tired.<br />
<br />
<br />
Always older then the last time I have seen him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He tells me he's fine.<br />
<br />
I roll my eyes.<br />
<br />
<br />
He smiles.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I move closer as if feeling him beside me will keep him with me longer.<br />
<br />
<br />
We sit like that for as long as we can.<br />
<br />
<br />
Until she wants our attention and the moments gone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But for that moment... it is so clear and so calming.<br />
<br />
He is mine.<br />
<br />
<br />
He is my dad.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He is my everything.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And I adore him.<br />
<br />
<br />
Everything about him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He's my first call in the morning and one of my last thoughts before I sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I could never have asked for anything more.<br />
<br />
<br />
I am grateful for each moment with him now.<br />
<br />
<br />
Although it feels like our lives are on a stop watch now.. that I watch from a distance... while still trying to enjoy the moment.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He set a precedent at a young age with me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I knew I was a priority.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He taught me the most important lesson you can ever teach a child.<br />
<br />
<br />
"No matter what, you can always come home"<br />
<br />
<br />
No matter what I did, how ever badly I screwed up(believe me no one has ever screwed up as much or as badly as I did....) I knew, I could go home.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Always.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
As I lay with her on those early mornings I try to take advantage of our time.<br />
<br />
<br />
I tell her the things he tells me.<br />
<br />
<br />
Like how much I love her, or how no matter how bad it is we can always fix it, and how proud of her I am for the small stuff.<br />
<br />
<br />
I pray the words sink in.<br />
<br />
<br />
Those same statements have saved me. In the literal sense, they saved my life. <br />
<br />
<br />
Over and over again his words often echo in my head at my worst times... reminding me to get back up, no matter how bad it seems... tomorrow will always come, and no matter what you can always find home.<br />
<br />
<br />
He has four treatments of radiation left.<br />
<br />
<br />
I could not be more proud.<br />
<br />
<br />
He has faced this with the strength and courage that only the best have.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
As you read this Dad, know forever and for always... you are it.<br />
<br />
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You are the best and brightest example of a man I could have ever had.<br />
<br />
<br />
I love you, stop watch or not... I love every minute of you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Forever, and for always. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-88704469828494569632012-05-09T22:44:00.000-04:002012-05-09T22:44:04.953-04:00unsure of what the balance held.The fall is short but hard.<br />
<br />
It's often in the dead of night.<br />
<br />
When I am alone.<br />
<br />
<br />
I am comfortable that way.<br />
<br />
I can deal with it alone.<br />
<br />
<br />
Today was different.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was 7:23 when the bottom dropped.<br />
<br />
<br />
I was on talking with my mum, doing everything I could to get off the phone and end the conversation.<br />
<br />
<br />
It was happening.<br />
<br />
<br />
When it comes I can't control it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My cell phone rang and gave me the excuse I needed.<br />
<br />
<br />
My friends 3 year old son called, as he sometimes does.<br />
<br />
<br />
To tell me how much he loved the duck game we gave him for his birthday.<br />
<br />
His sweet voice gave me a few seconds of calm but it wasn't enough.<br />
<br />
<br />
Why is it never enough.<br />
<br />
<br />
The bottom dropped and I could no longer hide.<br />
<br />
<br />
I could hear the distinctive rustle of his mum grabbing the phone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Are you o.k?"<br />
<br />
<br />
"You need to tell me what's wrong"<br />
<br />
"Please"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Those questions seem so simple seeing them.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Are you o.k?"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Over and over again she asks.<br />
<br />
<br />
I finally tell her no.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I break the silence that has sat still inside me for months.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I tell her no.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Over and over again.<br />
<br />
<br />
No.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
She tells me she will be here within thirty minutes.<br />
<br />
With wine.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't stop crying.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I still haven't stopped crying.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
In the last five months, I have watched by dad be diagnosed and deal with having cancer, I have watched my grandfather die and I was easily convinced I had found something real to love... only to realize it wasn't.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's clearly too much.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
4 hours later.<br />
<br />
<br />
I feel my feet on the ground.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I feel stronger.<br />
<br />
More hopeful.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For two reasons.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
One is the friend.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Who berated me for not calling her.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For reminding me they don't need to know, they want to know.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Secondly, for the txt from my dad at 10:24 that read "Love you"<br />
<br />
<br />
It's enough.<br />
<br />
Enough to end today and start tomorrow.<br />
<br />
<br />
Enough to get me into my bed and make remember that my life is patiently waiting for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-38589760471293349382012-04-25T22:34:00.000-04:002012-04-25T22:34:34.690-04:00The Morning.It's the nights that seem longer now. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Nothing I do seems to change it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I crave sleep...but my mind fights it at every turn. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I remember waking up after the morning he left, and thinking... this is the worst it would ever get... that some how that moment would be the lowest of my life. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It wasn't. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
How could it be. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I tell people my father has prostate cancer they say the following.. </div>
<div>
"Don't worry it's the best cancer you can get" or " I know so and so and they said it wasn't a big deal"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Let me tell you...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is a big deal.. and it is fucking horrible. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No part of this has been easy for him. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I watch mostly in silence as the man I love more than anything else suffers. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I focus on the dates the doctors give us. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Believing that somehow that will give my mind the relief it so desperately craves. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As each date passes and a new date is given I have started to understand that quite simply,,,,,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This isn't over. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is a time that alone sinks in more than ever. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am so god damn alone at this point it feel worse then before. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have one thing to hold on to.....</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She is four, and doesn't understand why mummy cries when we talk about when pops will be better. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My normal coping methods no longer work. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I can't pretend this isn't real. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I can't pretend I won't lose him. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As I got her ready for bed tonight she asked me "When can I go to stay with Nanny and Pops for the whole day?" </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I tried my best to explain. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But the tears flow easily these days. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She cradled my face in her little hands. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Let's just be brave moma... like when the monsters come at night.. and you tell me I gotta be brave"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I tell her it will all be ok. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But her eyes are so filled with questions, just as mine are. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So we wait, and hold each other... tighter then before. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For a date and an answer that never seems to come. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div>
<br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-56253857559592103812012-01-27T21:13:00.004-05:002012-01-27T23:19:46.812-05:00Just a Wednesday.It was the knock on the car window that made me understand how bad it had gotten. <div><br /><div><br /></div><div>I was in my car after work when I was jolted back to reality. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My first thoughts were of Apple..</div><div><br /></div><div>Had I forgot to pick her up? Where was she? </div><div><br /></div><div>Quickly I remembered it was Wednesday and she was with her father. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, I had some explaining to do. The man that runs my parking garage was staring at me through the window. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Instead of rolling down the window like a normal person, I opened the door with such force that it made him jump backwards. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>He didn't say a word. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But I did. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I began to explain why I was sitting in the car crying. </div><div><br /></div><div>I told him about my Dad. </div><div><br /></div><div>I told him my Dad had prostate cancer, and I was scared. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>He just stood there. </div><div><br /></div><div>I thought I should continue. </div><div><br /></div><div>I told him I wasn't normally like this and how strong I was. </div><div><br /></div><div>But that it's my dad. </div><div><br /></div><div>I went into great detail about how close we were. </div><div><br /></div><div>I explained how I talk to him everyday, and that if he hasn't heard from me by lunch.. he'll txt me, but how he doesn't really "get" txting and that sometimes he just txt's "?" or "ng" or "w"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>When I finally took a breath he asked me a very simple question </div><div><br /></div><div>"Was it you who dumped a coffee all over the floor this morning?"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"NO... uh, it wasn't" </div><div><br /></div><div>Even though it totally was. </div><div>(I was trying to balance both of my coffees, talk on the phone and put my mitts on at the same time... )</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>He stared at me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I stared back. </div><div><br /></div><div>He walked backwards away from me. Slowly. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>As though at any moment I may start to tell him more about my life. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I got back in the car. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It always hits my like this....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>How long have I been like this? </div><div><br /></div><div>How did I become so numb without feeling it happening... </div><div><br /></div><div>When was the last time I was o.k?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I spent the next hour scrambling to remember the last few weeks. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Trying to piece together what had happened and how I let it get this bad. </div><div><br /></div><div>It comes to me in waves, as though my brain is being kind to me because I wouldn't be able to deal with it all at once. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She rushed in the door like a storm shortly after.</div><div><br /></div><div>I felt the blood rush back to my body, and the strength return to my brain. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I am always stronger when she is with me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But tonight as I sit here alone I can no longer compartmentalize the pain. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can't pretend like this isn't happening. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>His diagnosis has hit me like nothing else ever has. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My parents are a lot of things to a lot of people. </div><div><br /></div><div>But to me they are everything. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A life without either one of them is not something I have ever imagined. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A long time ago, I wrote about a day that everything changed. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A day that I started to heal. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was him. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was my Dad. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Well, really it was both my Mum and Dad..... </div><div><br /></div><div>But It would be the pain in his face as he looked at me that would turn my sadness into an anger that I had never felt before. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>An anger that would carry me for the next year, until I was ready to let go.... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I would later learn that he had told those around him </div><div><br /></div><div>"Just wait until she gets mad..." </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Like he knew all along that is all I would need.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But my anger can't fix it this time....and it's killing me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I would do anything in this world to take this away from him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anything. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I can't. </div><div><br /></div><div>That devastates me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My relationships with my parents are equally special. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My Mum, is without a doubt the strongest person I know. She is the glue that has always held us together. She is so perfect in my eyes, it is hard for me to imagine I am her daughter. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My Dad, is the reason I'm funny. </div><div>He's the reason I have to keep going even on my worst days, he pushes me probably without even knowing to be patient, kind, and balanced. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My parents are the most amazing people I know. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>When I am at worst, they are beside me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>When I am at my best, they step back and let me enjoy it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>All I can do now is hope and pray for the best and that feels painful. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Please do the same for both of them. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-83620680335492686092011-08-29T22:01:00.004-04:002011-09-20T20:20:57.756-04:00The one when you can finally say goodbye.You'll remember each time you see me, the time when you found me laying there. <div><br /></div><div>You'll remember my loud laugh and optimitsic attitude about life. <div><br /></div><div>You'll remember the times that only I could make you laugh, and how I must have looked waking up beside you each day. </div><div><br /></div><div>You'll remember that day I told you she was coming, and the day she arrived. </div><div><br /></div><div>You'll remember. </div><div><br /></div><div>How could either of us ever forget.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know you see the changes and want to be a part of them, and for the most part you are. </div><div><br /></div><div>Please know you were the catalyst that set this plan in motion. You helped me get here more than you will ever know.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>You often seem so in pain, and I worry for you. </div><div><br /></div><div>I worry on your darkest days you can't find light. </div><div><br /></div><div>I worry that your misery made you lose all you ever wanted. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Know that I look back fondly now, I don't regret any of it. Not a minute. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Know that I don't reach for you at night anymore.</div><div><br /></div><div>Know that somehow I was healed. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Please know that I am sorry for any pain I caused you, I just couldn't see an ending. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Please know that I forgive you. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Finally. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>For it all. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-20385500394159952722011-06-02T22:43:00.003-04:002011-06-02T23:57:52.921-04:00This moment.Time off. <div><br /></div><div>Lots of it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It is hard to believe that I have not said a word since January. </div><div><br /></div><div>It has always been my intention to write, and I have... and those posts will come but right now I can tell you this. </div><div><br /></div><div>The last time I published a post... something changed inside me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I let go. </div><div><br /></div><div>Of all of the anger, the resentment, the sadness but most of all the pain. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I accepted my fate and became grateful for it. </div><div><br /></div><div>The same week I published that post I was driving on a very cold winter day down the street with apple. I had just picked her up from daycare and we were heading home. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I happen to glance out the window and saw a young mother around my age standing at the bus stop with a child around apples age. </div><div><br /></div><div>The mother rubbed the child's hands in hers to warm them up .</div><div><br /></div><div>The child's coat did not look warm enough and the mother was glancing up and down the road.... wishing and hoping that the bus would just get to them faster. </div><div><br /></div><div>I looked away to focus on the road, and like a tonne of bricks it dropped on me. </div><div><br /></div><div>The words that echoed in my mind were clear...... more clear for than ever before. </div><div><br /></div><div>"that's not me" </div><div><br /></div><div>I thought about all that apple and I have, and what a charmed life we lead. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We have more then I could ever ask for. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We have never had to stand at a bus stop in the freezing cold. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>With the family and friends I have in my life.... we never will. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>For what seems like forever, I was just"existing" in my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>I would wake up each day and focus. </div><div><br /></div><div>Focus on nothing but getting through the day and getting home....having dinner....getting her to bed...run...get myself to bed. </div><div><br /></div><div>That was it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Everyday, for so many days they all blur together. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just "existing". </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was trying so hard to get from one day to the next that I forgot to live in them. </div><div><br /></div><div>I forgot that it would be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">OK</span> to just be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">OK</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>To start to live again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Really live. Without the guilt. Without the shame. Without the pain. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The same day we got home after seeing that mother and her child waiting for the bus we made play dough out of orange jello. Then I let her throw glitter on the floor just because she wanted to. </div><div><br /></div><div>We stayed up late and watched Toy Story 3. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was happy. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She was happy. </div><div><br /></div><div>And finally;</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was just gone. </div><div><br /></div><div>All the bullshit that I had been holding on to had finally left me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>From that day on.... right into today.... I can tell you that I will be eternally grateful that he left. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe it wasn't in the right way and maybe it could have been easier on both of us, but I can't get over the feeling that it might have been the only way out for either one of us. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But the truth is, I have never known this kind of happiness. </div><div><br /></div><div>To wake each morning and feel grateful for the day ahead is unreal... and a long time coming. </div><div><br /></div><div>I feel so much sadness that I wasted so much of my life never knowing this kind of happiness was out there in the world just waiting for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, without all that wasted time... I would have been without all that gratitude I have now.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Things have been amazing in the last few months. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Apple and her father and I have been able to spend some time together. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just the three of us. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I know. </div><div><br /></div><div>I find it hard to believe as well, but it works... and works well. </div><div><br /></div><div>For her... I know the two of us will do anything. </div><div><br /></div><div>Working together as a team, as parents to show her that we are a family. </div><div>One that looks a little different..... but one that is stronger living apart then together. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Apple has just turned a huge corner in life. </div><div><br /></div><div>The last four weeks have been some of the most memorable to date. </div><div><br /></div><div>Everyday she makes me beam with pride about something that she has said or done. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">compassionate</span> and kind to others. </div><div>Her sense of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">comedic</span> timing is unreal.</div><div>She loves with her whole heart. </div><div>Her temper is the same as mine. (this scares the shit out of me) </div><div>And she is beautiful. </div><div>So beautiful. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I can't tell you how lucky I feel. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Mostly, that I get to be her mum, but also for this second chance at a life filled with glitter on the floor and late night movies on the couch. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>People often ask me "when does your happy ending come?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I got it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-88629207696799695732011-01-23T21:39:00.002-05:002011-01-23T22:34:24.484-05:00Here I sit.So much time has passed, but here I am... coming back to where it all began. <div><br /></div><div>Something happened way back in the middle of October that paralyzed me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I heard her name out of my little girls mouth. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It happened so quickly and with such innocence in our nightly bath.... but it blindsided me and sent me in to a place i wish to never return to. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It happened on a Sunday night, after she had just gotten home from a visit at her dads. </div><div><br /></div><div>She told me stories of the weekend with a big smile on her face. </div><div>Told me about the fun they had, and the games they played and told me about her. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was caught off guard but attempted to keep my face smiling even though the bile was in my mouth. I could not escape the situation or get away.</div><div><br /></div><div>So i grinned and listened and told her how great it all sounded. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I dried my beautiful little girl and put her cream on her I could only imagine that "someone else" was doing it when I was not. </div><div><br /></div><div>In that moment I wanted to scream at Apple. I wanted to tell her what they had done to me. I wanted her to know what kind of person this was and what they were capable of. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I put her to bed and as we said our good nights I held her extra tight </div><div><br /></div><div>"are you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">moma</span>?" "you sad?" her little man voice asked me....</div><div><br /></div><div>"yes baby <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">moma</span> is fine...." </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>That night was long and sleepless. </div><div><br /></div><div>So were the next weeks. </div><div><br /></div><div>The images that were always in the back of my mind had now become a reality. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had been able to fool myself this entire time not letting the thoughts of her with my daughter ever become real. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But there I was. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It had become real. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I am a very high functioning depressed person. </div><div><br /></div><div>Although as I have said before I push people away, I have learned that the more I take on and the more I busy myself the less room there is for "reality" in my brain. </div><div><br /></div><div>October and November are a blur. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was not until close to the end of November I finally called my councilor. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We talked about how I was feeling and what techniques I could use to feel better, but then I got real with her. I did not need to learn how to breath deeply.. I needed to get this bullshit out of my brain. </div><div><br /></div><div>My real problem was having my child like or maybe love this woman. </div><div><br /></div><div>My real problem was thinking of them playing house with Apple. </div><div><br /></div><div>My real problem was the fear of someone being better than me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>That was it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>That was the route of the problem. </div><div><br /></div><div>In my brain still somewhere, I had convinced myself that this woman was better than me because she was the one living with the man that I had married. </div><div><br /></div><div>So what if... this little girl of mine wanted her over me as well. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was haunting. Even typing it makes me feel sick. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>As the weeks turned to into months... and the pain was still as fresh as that day in October we would again.... end up talking about the other woman in the bathtub. </div><div><br /></div><div>This time it was early December. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I was drying off Apple she said her name again, I must have winced..... because the next thing out of Apples mouth was " No mummy you're the greatest" *( i will explain the greatest game later)</div><div><br /></div><div>I was stunned. </div><div><br /></div><div>The bile was there again. </div><div><br /></div><div>This time for another reason. </div><div><br /></div><div>How was it possible that without a single negative word about this woman that Apple would say something like that? </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was simple, she could see the pain. She had probably been feeling it since that night in October. </div><div><br /></div><div>That was enough. That was it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>When I put her to bed that night I told her how much I loved her, and we said goodnight to everyone we love like we always do. </div><div><br /></div><div>But this time I said her name-- I said it, just in case Apple was afraid too. </div><div><br /></div><div>I sat that night and thought about it a lot more rationally than ever before. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Apple and I are lucky. </div><div><br /></div><div>It seems to me, that this woman loves her and cares for her. </div><div><br /></div><div>The alternative to this would be horrible. I can not imagine having to worry every time Apple was to go to her dads that someone would be cruel to her. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We are lucky... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was late December when Apple got sick. </div><div><br /></div><div>She woke up from a normal Wednesday nap and was miserable. </div><div><br /></div><div>Her dad was coming to take her out to dinner that night... so I got her ready and off they went. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>About 35<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">mintues</span> into the visit I got a phone call telling me that she wanted to come home. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>As I stood in the doorway waiting it occurred to me that it must be painful for him to know that I am who she wants. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>As Oprah would say "light bulb moment". </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I am who she wants. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She came in the door and we hugged for what seemed like hours. He stood there, recapping the last 35minutes and her eyes never left mine. </div><div><br /></div><div>"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">moma</span>" she repeated over and over again. I rocked her back and fourth and told her again again that she was home. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I got it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I get it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Over the next few weeks we would take turns being sick, her with ear infections, colds and maybe a touch of the flu and myself a cold that led to pneumonia. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I can officially say that we are both back to normal in every way possible. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have so many amazing stories to share over the next few weeks. Some that will make you laugh and I am sure some that will make you cry..... </div><div><br /></div><div>So keep checking in. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you for your patience with me, your kind words sent to me and all of your love and support.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>*the greatest game is a game my dad and I play with her.. we ask her "who's the greatest" and normally she will say the opposite name of the person who asked her... we act all heart broken when she doesn't say us... in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">hindsight</span> probably not the greatest game ever created. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-26913155204913198562010-10-02T10:03:00.004-04:002010-10-02T14:46:38.563-04:00That something.I sat down last week and began to write about a relationship being surmised in "eight pages".<br /><br />How odd that all of the things that you did and said and had can be summed up in "eight pages".<br /><br /><br /><br />That is what I had titled the blog, "eight pages".<br /><br /><br />Then just as it always does, life got busy and I didn't hit publish post.<br /><br /><br />But as fate would have it there was a reason inside me that I just didn't understand yet.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Some of the most important relationships in your life will end, and you won't get "eight pages".<br /><br />They will just end.<br /><br />With no pages.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />For whatever reason you might wake up on a Wednesday morning and realize that you aren't that close to "so and so" anymore.<br /><br />When and how did it happen?<br /><br />Why at one point in your life did they feel like your everything, and on this morning... you can not even remember the last time you talked to them?<br /><br /><br />Relationships evolve.<br /><br />They change.<br /><br />They end.<br /><br /><br /><br />You might not want them to, but it is inevitable.<br /><br /><br />For me, the strangest part in all of this is that my heart can still ache the exact same way as it did two years ago.<br /><br />For people that I will get no pages from.<br /><br />People that I love so deeply, but can drift from so easily.<br /><br />When we chose to let people into our lives and give them all of ourselves we are taking a risk....<br /><br />We are trusting that they are always going to be there, that they are always going to pick up the phone when we call, or show up when we need them to.<br /><br />We are trusting our hearts with them, trusting that they will never do us wrong, trusting that they will always just stay the same.<br /><br />That things will always remain as they had been.<br /><br />Somewhat perfect if you will.<br /><br />But then...<br /><br />It happens.<br /><br />Life happens.<br /><br />We are all busy with work, family, commitments and things that are beyond our control... and sometimes things that are in our control.<br /><br /><br />So we drift, not always easily but we drift all the same... away from each other and closer to others.<br /><br />It is change.<br /><br />I fear change.<br /><br />It makes me feel alone and scared.<br /><br /><br /><br />But maybe along with evolving, change and ending... there is something new around the corner.<br /><br />That "something" is what keeps me sane today.mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-11378579139144389412010-09-20T23:07:00.003-04:002010-09-20T23:34:29.209-04:00turn the lights on.What happens now. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What happens when your heart feels full of love but your brain still fades to that dull dark place that feels impossible to shake? </div><div><br /></div><div>What happens when your <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">surrounded</span> by the best kind of people there are, those that want nothing else but to love and care for you, but you repeat the words "you are alone" over and over again as you get ready for bed?</div><div><br /></div><div>What happens when you commit to everything, but want to do nothing?</div><div><br /></div><div>What happens when every smile you give feels forced, unless it involves her?</div><div><br /></div><div>What happens when everything is going right, but you still want to go left? </div><div><br /></div><div>What happens when the days start to lose light, you feel the light inside you flicker as well? </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know.</div><div><br /></div><div>I just don't know. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-53238746993075892672010-09-07T21:48:00.003-04:002010-09-08T21:41:42.492-04:00Andy.<div><br /></div><div>I am shy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Have I said that before? </div><div><br /></div><div>Seeing those words written make me shake my head at myself. </div><div>I know those of you that have met me are thinking what in gods name is she talking about? </div><div><br /></div><div>But, I am shy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Painfully so. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am loud. I have been loud my whole life... I am often told to quiet down at Christmas, Easter, birthdays, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BBQs</span> and any other family gathering because I am so god dame loud. </div><div><br /></div><div>My loud covers up for the fact that I don't say much. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't want to say anything half the time, I just don't want you to ask me anything. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm loud... So you can't. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is too hard for me sometimes to come up with the answers that you want to hear or the stories you want to be told. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So, I'm loud.... because I can't. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Not many get past this. It can probably be too much. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am most likely a hell of a lot of work to get to know. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I have felt my guard slip recently, having a conversation with someone I didn't really know all that well.... </div><div><br /></div><div>I heard myself talking about things that I only really share with the closest of the close. </div><div><br /></div><div>It scared the living shit out of me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know how to deal with letting it out without feeling like I am giving too much of myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like if I say it all out loud, I'll lose part of myself. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'll lose it and I won't get it back ever again. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So, I am a painfully shy... and painfully loud girl. Who often says inappropriate shit at the most inappropriate times. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I have almost grown to accept this, Now... It's your turn to. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Apple is doing amazing. </div><div><br /></div><div>She is so much like me that at times my future seems very difficult. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She is so strong willed and very <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">temperamental</span>, but by far she is one of the funniest people I have ever met in my life. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Last week we had heat lightning. She had woken up from a bad dream so I opened up her blinds and showed her what the sky looked like. </div><div><br /></div><div>I said " look it's heat lightning" </div><div><br /></div><div>she said " grease lightning?" </div><div><br /></div><div>I said "no heat lightning" </div><div><br /></div><div>She said "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">NOOOO</span> MUMMY, Grease Lightning" </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I asked her how she knew what "grease lightning" was, and told her that Mummy hates the movie Grease... ( I know she is a little young to be told that... but come on.... I hate the movie Grease and I am silently <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">judging</span> those of you who <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">lllloooovvveee</span> it) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She said "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">uhhh</span> the wiggles mummy" </div><div><br /></div><div>I told her that was fine and put her back to bed. </div><div><br /></div><div>She stayed up for the next 45 minutes singing the god awful grease lightning song. </div><div><br /></div><div>I went in and finally told her to stop and she had the largest 2 year old shit fit I have ever seen.</div><div><br /></div><div>She even got the "fists of furry" going... which means she means business. </div><div><br /></div><div>She said " I won't stop, I won't stop" </div><div><br /></div><div>I left the room and rolled my eyes and shook my head at what the next 18 years have in store for me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Today was a huge milestone for us. </div><div><br /></div><div>She started at her new day care. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I have been worried about this day for weeks. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think I probably slept for 3 hours last night.... All I could do was imagine the worst. </div><div><br /></div><div>I ended up with the largest stress zit (some may call it a goiter) on my face that my co <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">workers</span> and I gave it a name. </div><div><br /></div><div>Andy. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was super fun all day to say things like "Andy and I are headed for lunch" or "Andy has a lot of paper work to get done this afternoon"</div><div><br /></div><div>Andy came for no reason though. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She killed it at day care today. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not one cry, Not one 2 year old shit fit with "fists of furry".... </div><div><br /></div><div>Nothing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just a great report from her new friend "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Caffee</span>". </div><div><br /></div><div>She was loud. </div><div><br /></div><div>I could hear her as I walked up the drive way to get her. </div><div><br /></div><div>It made me smile. </div><div><br /></div><div>My girl is loud. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-85974858064619340822010-08-17T22:02:00.004-04:002010-08-21T13:58:21.165-04:00importance.<div><br /></div><div>The word shots being screamed at me from across the room used to mean something different. </div><div><br /></div><div>It used to mean get "get your ass over here, we are going to drink something that is going to make us sick later"</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, it means "get your ass over here.... you need to get in the net so I can take shots on you with my pink mini stick"</div><div><br /></div><div>I will willingly admit, that my life had been about christian louboutin shoes and my gucci purse.... about the nice things I had or the nice things I wanted. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, it has become about the ways I can make her life better, the things I can do to make her happier. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My girl is demanding. My girl is impatient. My girl is the 3 foot version of me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Before you have kids people constantly tell you "having a child changes you". They warn you how tired and how busy you will be....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But no one warns you about what happens to your heart. </div><div><br /></div><div>This girl has changed me from the inside out. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some where along the way it happened, I can't pinpoint the time exact time......</div><div>all I know is it did. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>From a distance I witness love differently now. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I see it so clearly in the smallest things... that I would have never noticed before. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I sat and talked to a friend of mine she described to me how her husband took two hours to shave her head before her first chemo treatment.</div><div><br /></div><div>Her hair is curly, and he took so long to do it because he didn't want to hurt her. </div><div><br /></div><div>That is love. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is strange to me that it took this little girl in my life to change my perspective on just about everything. </div><div>Things that I never would have noticed before seem so important now..... </div><div><br /></div><div>She is the answer to the questions I have always had in my mind. </div><div><br /></div><div>She is the answer to me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-38794031204908977102010-07-31T22:01:00.004-04:002010-08-01T10:23:16.863-04:00The one about the polysporinMonths ago before I had moved back home, there was a moment. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A moment that stopped me dead in my tracks. </div><div><br /></div><div>Apple took a small fall. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was nothing major. All she had done was scrape her knee. </div><div><br /></div><div>I went to grab the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">polysporin</span>... and realized that she was too young for me to use the adult kind... I would have to go get some of the kids kind......</div><div><br /></div><div>and with that, I was done for. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>That was the moment. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The first moment in my life that I could not just go to a store and buy what I needed. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Financially, it was over for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had used every ounce of savings, I had used every credit card.... I had used everything. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I had nothing. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I sat on the step in my living room and cried. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My brain told me to call my parents, to tell them.... to ask them for help. </div><div><br /></div><div>But my pride as usual got in the way. </div><div><br /></div><div>They had no clue how bad it was. No one had any clue how bad it had gotten. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was carrying the weight of the bills on my own most months, with no job and no source of income. </div><div><br /></div><div>Things with my support had not been going easily, and I was not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">receiving</span> regular payments. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had already started to work part time at my new job, but it wasn't enough.... I had yet to miss a payment but I knew that would only be a few short days away. </div><div><br /></div><div>That night I laid awake in my bed for hours, hoping for a miracle. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Wishing that something would change. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Words he had said to me earlier that day echoed in my mind..... "no ones coming to save you" </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"no one" he kept repeating. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What he said lit some sort of fire in me.....</div><div><br /></div><div>I started to think to myself.... No one might be coming.... but I will save her and I. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will fix this. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>No one would ever again tell me I couldn't.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The next morning, I went through my normal routine--- but two huge things happened. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I got an email from a friend, just a random forward that I would normally delete, It was one of those email this to three people and something good will happen.... but that is not what caught my eye. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a line at the end that read... "You must be the change you wish to see in the world" </div><div><br /></div><div>I thought about that for a long time... that I had to become the change. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I realized that you can't just sit back and wait for the change, you have to take charge and see what you want out there and go and get it.</div><div><br /></div><div>That morning I decided that for good, I would be in charge of what was going to happen to us.... and that the best way to do this was easy.... to simply DO IT. </div><div><br /></div><div>Get out there and get it done. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I did not forward the email for the "good thing to happen" </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I just knew it would. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Minutes later I did what I always do, and checked my banking online. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>There had been a rather large deposit, from my former employer. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I checked and re checked and called human resources to make sure it was mine. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was.. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">infact</span> mine, Some holiday pay that had gotten lost in the shuffle... something that I had not been expecting. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I could breathe. </div><div><br /></div><div>For the first time in weeks. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I got myself and my best girl ready for the day and we headed out to shoppers. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Where I bought 2 tubes of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">polysporin</span>, the kids kind.... that we probably didn't need at that point, but I needed it to feel safe. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I still have the two tubes of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">polysporin</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Each time I use one, I remember..... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I remember that I had to stop wishing for a miracle and make one of my own. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-15241684245983184622010-07-21T21:31:00.002-04:002010-07-21T23:35:16.658-04:00I'll Promise you this.There are cracks in my mind formed from all of this. <div><br /></div><div>Cracks where one story starts and another begins. </div><div><br /></div><div>Cracks where I have pushed a memory so deep inside me that it is hard to recall. But it is there, waiting patiently until I am ready. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Day three of being left by him I got myself to the doctors. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was a mess, I had not slept in days, I had not eaten in days and all I could do was sob uncontrollably. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>He was kind and immediately gave the guidance that I so desperately needed. </div><div><br /></div><div>Since I had yet to tell most of the people in my life, he encouraged me to reach out..... the help I was going to need with apple beyond important. </div><div>I needed rest, and I needed to eat. </div><div><br /></div><div>I could handle most of that. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was rational. </div><div><br /></div><div>I could still be rational. I just needed a plan. </div><div><br /></div><div>We put a plan in place for the next few and agreed to meet up the next week. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was going to be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I stood up to leave... he quickly with one hand on my shoulder sat me back down. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Looking me dead in the eyes, he said " you are both going to need to be tested for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">stds</span>" </div><div><br /></div><div>I shrugged it off and told him, " I will, but you will have to talk to him about getting one for himself" </div><div><br /></div><div>"No, not him he said... Apple. You will have to get Apple tested for aids. She was breast fed"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A whole new kind of rage filled up inside me. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was never something that crossed my mind. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ever. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I fought him on it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I rejected the very thought of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>No, No way would I do this to her. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>No way would I put my baby... my beautiful 9 month of baby girl through this. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But he reasoned with me. He explained to me that it was what was best for her, that without question it would need to be done. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I told no one. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I said nothing. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But we went. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I held my daughter down for more than 4 minutes while they drew the deepest purple color blood I have ever seen. </div><div><br /></div><div>It took 4 minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div>4 minutes that felt like 6 hours. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She screamed and cried and stared at me with her big worried eyes. </div><div><br /></div><div>She would try to them stop by rolling on to her tummy and reaching out for me... all the while I could do nothing but hold her down. </div><div><br /></div><div>It killed me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I put my head next to hers and told her over and over again how sorry I was. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I promised her .... that this moment would be her worst. </div><div><br /></div><div>That everything after this would be better, everything after this would be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ok</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>When they were finished we sat together on the chair. </div><div><br /></div><div>I stroked her hair, and she slowly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">settled.... when she became calm enough to get back home</span></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">I put her in her car seat and sat in the parking lot of the medical clinic and sobbed. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Our tests came back clear of any problems.... and for that I am grateful. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Those 4 moments broke something in me that will never be fixed. </div><div><br /></div><div>They changed me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But those 4 moments also gave me the strength I needed to complete the rest of the journey, </div><div><br /></div><div>To keep the promise to her. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"That moment" will be her worst. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-63267161918932978462010-06-27T23:12:00.003-04:002010-06-28T22:28:19.409-04:00Everything. Means, Everything.<div><br /></div>When I was about nine I broke a china doll, I shattered her face while trying to give her a tighter pony tail. <div><br /></div><div><br /><div>I was scared for my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>I knew my parents were going to kill me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I had been warned not to play with the china doll, but I had a hard time with rules even then. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div>I was so ashamed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I worried constantly that I would be found out, that my parents would actually kill me and bury me in the backyard by the birch tree. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Months later my dad and I took our first solo trip to Toronto to see the Leafs play. </div><div><br /></div><div>We took the train and talked the whole way down, I probably annoyed the crap out of him with my questions and my stories but he sat there and listened patiently with his arm around me the entire time. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was so happy and so comfortable with him. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was my nine year old heaven. </div><div><br /></div><div>As we got closer to Toronto, I can clearly remember thinking...... </div><div><br /></div><div>"this is it, this is my chance to tell him... he can't kill me with all these people around" </div><div><br /></div><div>The confession started with the words no parent ever wants to hear: </div><div><br /></div><div>"I have to tell you something really really bad" </div><div><br /></div><div>It came out in the same sort of "verbal diarehha" way I speak today. </div><div><br /></div><div>In haste I also copped to the fact I was the one that had called the WWF hotline to hear the macho man randy savage tell me to have a good day.... several times actually... over the corse of a single day. </div><div><br /></div><div>I know I cried and he held me for a long time and promised me that as soon as we got home we would fix that china doll together and that he nor my mother would not actually kill me and bury me out by the birch tree. </div><div><br /></div><div>He wasn't kidding either. </div><div><br /></div><div>The next day he and I went and bought the glue and sat out at the kitchen table and piece by piece glued the china doll back together, all the while my mum stood in kitchen telling me how everything was always fixable."Everything" she kept repeating. </div><div><br /></div><div>The relief I felt was overwhelming. </div><div><br /></div><div>I knew it was going to be ok. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I have spent most of my life reliving the same cycle with those closest to me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My actions are typical when things aren't ok. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I push. </div><div><br /></div><div>and I push. </div><div><br /></div><div>and I push. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I live in a dark world alone, with brief phone calls and quick bullshit email updates, and excuses of why I can't come or how tired I am. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But, it's no longer just my parents that can spot this happening. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It is those closest to me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>They know. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>They always know. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>They know when my mind starts to fade to that dark black part that I can't seem to shake some days. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And what I've learned is that they collectively push harder than I do. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>They fight the way into that dark place and drag me out of it kicking and screaming the whole time. </div><div><br /></div><div>They smother me like you would with a blanket when someone's on fire. </div><div><br /></div><div><div><div><br /></div><div>I love them for it. All of them, More than I could ever explain. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Because they know it's not "me".... and they want "me" to be here with them. </div><div><br /></div><div>The support that I have in my life is not something that is easy to explain.... </div><div><br /></div><div>It had always been there, but a lot like my confession to my dad on the train that day, I just to learn that needed to say it all out loud. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I shake my head in disbelief most days that this is my life because things are good. </div><div><br /></div><div>Really good. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The darkness still finds its way into my mind. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But they know. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>They always know. </div><div><br /></div><div>And they come to get me.........even when I push. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The Leafs lost the night my dad and I took our trip..... but I think you could have guessed that on your own. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-28945553023014835712010-06-18T22:25:00.002-04:002010-06-20T22:09:22.227-04:00A little bit older, A lot wiser.I turned 33 on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tuesday</span>, and nothing changed. <div><br /></div><div>But there is a change in me that I find hard to explain. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The changes came late on a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">wednesday</span> night when I saw something clearly for the first time, or early on a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">sunday</span> morning when I woke up to apple calling my name. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was never as fast or as easy as I would have liked it to be, but it happened. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I became, however slowly... the person that sits here today. </div><div><br /></div><div>More confident. </div><div><br /></div><div>More settled. </div><div><br /></div><div>More patient. </div><div><br /></div><div>More alive. </div><div><br /></div><div>More aware of what and who I want around me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My birthday itself was a reminder of both the love that surrounds me and the loneliness inside me. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I shut the door each time people left from a visit, the silence was still there. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's not as loud as before, and it's manageable but it is still there inside me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I wonder every single day if it will ever leave me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>If there is something that will change this. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not sure. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I got a phone call from a friend to wish me happy father's day today. </div><div><br /></div><div>It surprised me. </div><div><br /></div><div>He explained to me that I'm both roles to my daughter, even if she may see her father....</div><div><br /></div><div>I am the one daily that is both her mother and her father. </div><div><br /></div><div>I cried a bit, like I always do when we talk... and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">realized</span> he was right. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My girl is upstairs where she belongs, sleeping soundly after a day at the park with my parents and a golf lesson from my brother. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We had an amazing day together </div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight, I don't hear the silence. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-83998229802682717402010-06-01T22:01:00.002-04:002010-06-01T22:55:54.859-04:00two years.<div><br /></div><div>This weekend marked the two year anniversary of this mess starting. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Regardless of the time that has passed, anniversary's of events still get to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is not as consuming as it used to be, but it weights on me. Like when you get a bad case of the chills that you can't get rid of. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I know how much things have changed in the last two years, and I am grateful for how far things have come. </div><div><br /></div><div>But somedays.... well somedays it still hurts. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some times I still lay awake at night and wonder how or why. </div><div>What upsets me is that i will never ever know the truth. </div><div><br /></div><div>Recently I heard, you can't find peace until you find all the pieces. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm searching. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am trying to fix what was wrong with me then, and what's wrong with me now. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am coming to some sad conclusions about who I use to be. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>That is the piece of the puzzle that I can fix-- the piece that I was never knew that was broken until two years ago. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am working on this daily, sometimes by the minute, and when I have it sorted in my head, you'll be the first to know. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>That chill that followed me around this weekend was warmed by that beautiful girl of mine. </div><div><br /></div><div>We enjoyed the sun, and the rain but most of all our time together. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It's full sentences and meaningful conversations on a daily basis here. She likes to pick her own shoes and tell me the colour of elastics that go in her hair. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lately when I am laughing or smiling Apple will look at me and say.. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>" look mommy...... your happy"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She sees it, which pushes me to not just look it, but to be it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She can see my happiness even on the days I can't. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-71061725703589974182010-05-13T21:32:00.003-04:002010-05-13T22:53:13.907-04:00where we are.Resentment is a dangerous thing. <div><br /></div><div>I don't feel it everyday, but I feel it. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Alot</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some days I feel it when I am racing home after work to pick her up from day care. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am never fast enough. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can never seem to get diner on the table or get changed out of my work clothes or do just anything..... with out a struggle. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I feel it when I am doing a million things well, but nothing great. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like I am never enough. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I feel it when I am sitting at my desk at work, wishing I was at home with her. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I had no choice. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Some days I feel it when he tells me he can't take her on his weekend. </div><div><br /></div><div>He has a choice. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't. </div><div><br /></div><div>I just need to make it all work. </div><div><br /></div><div>I need to shuffle things around and back out on commitments. </div><div><br /></div><div>The resentment builds frustration, anger and stress in me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can't stand it. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is not who I am. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This week something very important dawned on me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I truly believe that if you are not frustrated, angry or stressed sometimes as a parent, then you are probably not doing your job right. </div><div><br /></div><div>Most parents are. </div><div><br /></div><div>Most of us are constantly any or all of those three things at any given time. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What I am feeling is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ok</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's right. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is where I am right now. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Recognizing this makes me hopeful. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-1900395978941703312010-05-08T23:26:00.004-04:002010-05-09T00:06:21.323-04:00just another one.I want to be able to tell you i am <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span> everyday, but I am not. <div><br /></div><div>I still <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">struggle</span> some days, and I still feel weak others. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is days like tomorrow that I find it hard to deal with.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It's mothers day, and I am a mother that will have her daughter with me all day long. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am grateful. </div><div><br /></div><div>Beyond grateful that I will be able to spend the entire day with my best girl. </div><div><br /></div><div>Beyond grateful that I have friends and family, that will call not because they feel sorry for me, but because they love me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But days like this are a constant reminder of this life that was meant for three, now being lived by two. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I feel a tremendous amount of guilt even mentioning something so seemingly trivial. </div><div><br /></div><div>My brain tells me to push this out.... </div><div><br /></div><div>My heart reminds me just how alone you can feel. </div><div><br /></div><div>Even when your not. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-63305214702729107392010-04-27T23:25:00.004-04:002010-04-28T00:02:44.450-04:00Not her. Me.As I lay in bed tonight I hear the same music coming from her room that I have played for her every night since she was born. <div><br /></div><div>It tones down the sharpness of the dogs bark and makes the sound of the washing machine fade away in the distance.... but mostly it is a familiar sound that both of us like to hear at night. </div><div><br /></div><div>Being here has settled us both. We are calmer versions of who we were a few months ago, very quickly we have gotten use to this new routine. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am back to work four days a week, and she is with her sitter and my mum for those days. </div><div><br /></div><div>She has come leaps and bounds since day one.... now going with out much fuss, and enjoying her time while she is there. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have not. </div><div><br /></div><div>I miss her. </div><div><br /></div><div>I miss her so much every day that it is painful. </div><div><br /></div><div>I cry most days at some point, when I look at the time and wonder what she might be doing, or when I think of the way she ate her breakfast like a big girl in the morning.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mostly I just wish it was me that could take her to the park or open her raisin box. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mostly I am resenting the person that took that away from me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I understand the bottom line well. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is what happens; this is what has to be done; this is the sacrifice that I have to make; </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But I miss her. </div><div><br /></div><div>My god do I miss her. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> I have been blessed with an amazing boss, and a great work environment. </div><div><br /></div><div>They are BEYOND <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">accommodating</span> to my situation, and they are 100% on board with my "apple comes first" attitude. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I have also been blessed with the most amazing parents. </div><div>They pick up the slack and more on a daily basis. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not a single day goes by when I don't regret being an asshole to them when I was a teenager. (and maybe early 20's... ok and maybe my late 20's early 30's.... come to think of it I was probably an asshole baby too) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So, I get it. </div><div><br /></div><div>We all have to do this, and it sucks..... and not many people are as blessed as I am. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will get through this. </div><div><br /></div><div>I should also probably re think how much of an asshole I can be. </div><div><br /></div><div>But that's another blog. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-53372329317139089912010-04-05T23:33:00.002-04:002010-04-05T23:55:49.243-04:00A letter to my friend.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I know you are not ok. </div><div>The truth is you won't be for awhile.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know that you are in more pain than you ever thought possible. </div><div>The truth is this is the beginning of a very long road. </div><div><br /></div><div>I know you just want to hit rewind and get it all back.</div><div>The truth is there will come a day when you won't want any of it back, you'll just want to move forward. </div><div> </div><div>I know that some days it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to get out of bed. </div><div>The truth is you have to, for those two beautiful children of yours. </div><div><br /></div><div>I know that you are blaming yourself for all of this. </div><div>The truth is none of this is your fault... you have always been a dedicated wife and mother who never wanted anything more than the best for her family. </div><div><br /></div><div>I know that you don't understand. </div><div>The truth is you never really will. </div><div><br /></div><div>I know you think it will never be the same.</div><div>The truth is it won't... it will be different, then better. </div><div><br /></div><div><div>I know you feel alone. </div><div>The truth is we all do, but none of us every really are, there are so many people who want to be here for you, not just through this... but forever.</div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Most of all I know that you feel lost. </div><div>The truth is you are.... but those two children are your map. </div><div><br /></div><div>You will get through this. </div><div><br /></div><div>I promise. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6892726558826487203.post-15802940552205708652010-04-05T23:00:00.003-04:002010-04-05T23:30:59.688-04:00Moving recap.Home. <div><br /></div><div>It's weird to say, but even weirder to feel. </div><div><br /></div><div>The last day at my old house was painful and full of a profound sadness that I knew had been waiting in the dark shadows of my mind. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was blindsided by how empty the house looked as the movers took everything out of my house, piece by piece I watched it all leave the house.... </div><div><br /></div><div>easily remembering the days that all of it came in the house. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was alone. </div><div><br /></div><div>In our house. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was alone. </div><div><br /></div><div>Again. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then, out of no where I wasn't. </div><div><br /></div><div>My neighbours who have now become more like family, were there beside me.... just like they always had been. </div><div><br /></div><div>My last memory of the house on Farmhouse Road will always be of them. </div><div>Standing in the garage hugging so tight that I didn't want to let go. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My first memory of my new house will always be of my dad, standing on my driveway waiting for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>It already felt like home. </div><div><br /></div><div>Seeing him standing out there felt so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">familiar</span>, mostly because I never came home on time as a teenager so when he was really pissed he would stand outside on the driveway and wait for me....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The weekend flew by and by the time Sunday came my best girl and I were comfortably living in our new house. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It's more real now for me than ever before. </div><div><br /></div><div>That I am alright now. </div><div><br /></div><div>I slept better my first night here then I had slept in years, and when I woke up.... I instantly knew I was home. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We love it here. </div><div><br /></div><div>This was the best thing we could have done..... It has already started to change things for us.</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel it slowly but surely, a new normal.. that I adore. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07612957350707626127noreply@blogger.com