tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85836656828908374032024-03-14T05:58:49.174-07:00Just a girl...with a lot to say!My life, the good, the fab, the ugly! I'm candid, I'm sarcastic, I'm real. Follow me on my journey of trying to navigate thru a world of twin baby loss, divorce, work, dating, shoes, accessories and blonde moments!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.comBlogger317125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-36992480251163878052015-07-06T13:00:00.001-07:002015-07-06T13:00:11.283-07:00Did I kill my twin boys? My babies? <br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">"I killed my babies." </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">That's the thought that goes through my mind at the most random of times. Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, willing sleep to come, I think, "I was given one job. To protect my baby boys." And I failed. You'll either understand that. Or you won't. I went through hell to get pregnant. Shots, scan, hormones, pills, hope, disappointment...</span><br />
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<a href="http://stillstandingmag.com/2015/07/kill-twin-boys/">http://stillstandingmag.com/2015/07/kill-twin-boys/</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-28067107989498710102015-06-15T18:35:00.001-07:002015-06-15T19:01:51.653-07:00Invisible and LostI've loved 2 men, completely. One my dad, the other J. <div><br></div><div>My dad has never let me down, has always had my back and has never left me feeling insignificant or that I didn't matter. </div><div><br></div><div>J was the answer to so many prayers and dreams. After a divorce from a man I knew was wrong, losing a stepson I raised and loved, having my self confidence wrecked becasue he found he liked girlfriends more than me, my self confidence was nothing.</div><div><br></div><div>Meeting J, it was something so special. He's gregarious, he's outgoing, the life of the party. After feeling completely isolated and ignored, he made me feel beautiful, important and special. </div><div><br></div><div>Life wasn't perfect, it was quite hard. There were a lot of road blocks thrown at us but we maneuvered our way around them, together. </div><div><br></div><div>We lived life. So fully and completely. We raised kids who had completely hectic, full schedules, we laughed til we cried, we loved each other and I had never felt more loved, special <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">and protected than I did with him. In his arms, I was safe and more content than I'd ever been. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Losing the boys changed us. We grieved and dealt with things differently and as much as I wanted to be "ok" for him, I couldn't even be "ok" with myself until I had put in the sweat equity that comes with grief. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And then when I got to the place I could take care of others becasue I could, finally, take</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> care of myself, he was gone. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I can't blame him. Life, those months after the deaths of our boys, was hell. There were days I didn't get out of bed. The thought of doing anything more than breathing was overwhelming because I was drowning in the pain of still living when my heart had died. Twice. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You can't make people stick around for the "better" after the "worse" has made them hate you. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I didn't cheat. I didn't lie.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I grieved.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">The loss of the boys is a pain that lessens because the reminders aren't there everyday. I'd say, with that, that the pain is sometimes worse because the reminders come out of nowhere. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">But I lost them, and I survived. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Losing my best friend, the one who wrote me poems, who would come to my defense to anyone who looked at me cross, the man who was at most every dr's appt during the rollercoaster of getting pregnant and after, to not leaving my side during the stay in the hospital is a pain and loss like one I've never experienced. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">So I don't know how to navigate. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">We are past the point of reconciliation, we are living completely separate lives and have for a long time. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">We each moved on differently. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">He with the kids and dog. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Me without anything other than myself. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Is this a pathetic blog about a girl that can't move on? </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I'd like to think not. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I've dated, I've been "over" the loss of us for awhile because I didn't have a choice. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">If he came back to me tomorrow, I know we wouldn't be compatible anymore because too much has changed. We have grown in completely opposite places. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Doesn't stop the pain of not having your best friend in your everyday life. I'm facing decisions that would be really comforting to have another opinion on. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">But I'm here, just me. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I was made for more than I am. I'm successful at my job, I have financial stability that affords me the ability to breathe. Which is great. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">But I'm also lonely. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I'm successful as a sales person. It feeds a part of my soul, the closing and negotiating of deals, and I'm not myself without that. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">But I was made for more. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I'm a wife. I'm a mom. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Without a family. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">My heart desires that, more than anything, and after the chaos of such a full life, the silence of being alone is deafening. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I've been great, really just good and at peace. My job has been more than successful. My family and friends are ao incredibly supportive. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">So I feel pathetic for crying over something that is gone. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Not the boys, I couldn't have done anything to save them. And that is a guilt and pain you don't know unless you've delivered, and lost, 2 babies. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What is gone is the life I had with a best friend who I thought knew me better than anyone else. Who was still willing to walk away from me, the person he knew so well. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">If that doesn't make you feel invisible, inadequate and unworthy, I'm not sure what would. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I have felt, for awhile, because I love that man so much, that I would give up all the healing I've fought for, to give him some peace, because I know I'm strong enough to fight my way out of the darkness again if it meant that someone I loved didn't hurt. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Then the benefit of social media smacks me in the gut and shows me that he is happy. He's ok. He's as handsome as ever and his smile is brighter than I was able to put on his face. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">He's moved on. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I guess it's time for me to do the same.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I have a lot of blessings waiting for me in heaven. My heart, as damaged as it is, believes I'll have some more blessings here on earth, too. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">So, what more can I do than this? I'll put a smile on my face, I'll continue to live my life and will be confident that God has laid the dreams on my heart for the sole purpose of knowing it will be because they will come to be. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Life is hard. Some days suck a whole lot more than others. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I have loved a lot of people. I've lost a great number of them but I'm thankful that it hasn't, nor will I allow it, to harden my heart to not continue to love, hope and believe. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I'm just a crazy gal, with a lot to say about the realities of this hard knock of life. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52Hu6SwYY_mXnRbPCAZ28FjienDDjJFb67Q6jUm4NJFfLFqlA-ZnpOQEXwGBaRilP-WUqzZOmETAyE9h1webvwQm6gKeNe2YjjUhZUxiFV5p0fVAqMyPqkKAp-BWJJ7wThQf0AXVhjzfj/s640/blogger-image--1053216136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52Hu6SwYY_mXnRbPCAZ28FjienDDjJFb67Q6jUm4NJFfLFqlA-ZnpOQEXwGBaRilP-WUqzZOmETAyE9h1webvwQm6gKeNe2YjjUhZUxiFV5p0fVAqMyPqkKAp-BWJJ7wThQf0AXVhjzfj/s640/blogger-image--1053216136.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-36844576641990310762015-05-20T19:31:00.001-07:002015-05-27T17:19:14.717-07:00Divorce, sparkly souls and life.<div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Dang. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Life. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Crazy how it works huh? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Heard a song "some days are diamonds some days are stone..."</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Couldn't have said it better myself. </span></div></div><div><br></div>I've had 5 new cars in 7 years. <div><br></div><div>I've lived in 7 places in 10 years. </div><div><br></div><div>I've had 2 husbands in 10 years. </div><div><br></div><div>I've had a part in raising and loving and/or giving birth to 6 kids in 10 years. </div><div><br></div><div>Answering basic questions should be easy, what's your last name? "Neu, No? Umm, Billington? Harris? Address, Lanier? No? Um, Capital Dome?" </div><div><br></div><div>The only thing I have left out of that is a new car and MEEE! </div><div><br></div><div>I don't let a lot of weeds grow beneath my feet, not because I've had a choice in most of this but because it's the hands I've been dealt. And I'm playing them. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9DeNQDaj4SnsOIx-r9dtH9ILt2r853ef4iO_0S-Eyw9iyudSX0PPVpKOY5RASAM9ZOeyLUol-zgLx9ktf-9ZnPel0Rr0frBWWZapp3Y47F7szrcDyRzdsOdLpGZWPx0PH9RWzQFioAfg/s640/blogger-image--921183245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9DeNQDaj4SnsOIx-r9dtH9ILt2r853ef4iO_0S-Eyw9iyudSX0PPVpKOY5RASAM9ZOeyLUol-zgLx9ktf-9ZnPel0Rr0frBWWZapp3Y47F7szrcDyRzdsOdLpGZWPx0PH9RWzQFioAfg/s640/blogger-image--921183245.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Life hasn't made much sense in the past few years. I've been up, I've been down. I've been full of joy, I've been full of sorrow. Sometimes in the same day, sometimes in the same hour. If that's not confusing, I don't know what is. </div><div><br></div><div>The past few months I've had a change in perspective. I've changed my prayers from what I want, to thanking God, out loud, for the things I have. There's something very real about driving down the road, praying out loud, tears streaming down your face, thanking God for a life you have when it doesn't make sense. </div><div><br></div><div>I've been on the receiving end of so much kindness and support, I'm overwhelmed. I try not to let the well meaning people's sentiments hurt but sometimes they do. Because as much as people try to understand, truth is, most people can't. And that's a lonely enough place to be, in and of itself, without their advise that sometimes makes you want to punch a wall. </div><div><br></div><div>My life, over the past few months, has been crazy. In just a really good way, completely nuts, but still just crazy. </div><div><br></div><div>I've made some really hard decisions that broke my heart, but also, set me free.</div><div><br></div><div>If that's not heavy, I don't know what is. </div><div><br></div><div>I let my embryos go. I sold my wedding ring, I traded in the car I had that shouldn't mean anything but did because, that too, was something that held a lot of memories. </div><div><br></div><div>I've picked myself up, every single day, and made a conscience decision to live. </div><div><br></div><div>That day. Day by day. </div><div><br></div><div>Mother's Day nearly killed me. I expected to breeze thru it but I didn't. I cried for 3 days straight. </div><div><br></div><div>But I made it through. </div><div><br></div><div>Seems silly to say but what hasn't killed me, truly has made me stronger. </div><div><br></div><div>Hear this though, I didn't just decide to "start living again." I didn't just wake up one day ok. </div><div><br></div><div>I made a decision, each time I felt like I was suffocating, to keep breathing. That each time I felt like I was drowning, to keep swimming. When I was crushed by the weight of everything I've lost, to truly let myself rest in the knowledge that if God was asking me to release what I've known and loved, it was because He has greater for me. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQl9icfTKI2km1UFL8xHmyZ0k36vreA14-dJvCrfrq8rR-pIMRqCU_FLggs-cK6RSlqkDNeX2IVFAjrGAel55IHk02QB8kJrSE1mYGCWT0Vvyu9B90Gv6lopWuVFf1o6Ki-HdB7E5KbGOZ/s640/blogger-image-1694079812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQl9icfTKI2km1UFL8xHmyZ0k36vreA14-dJvCrfrq8rR-pIMRqCU_FLggs-cK6RSlqkDNeX2IVFAjrGAel55IHk02QB8kJrSE1mYGCWT0Vvyu9B90Gv6lopWuVFf1o6Ki-HdB7E5KbGOZ/s640/blogger-image-1694079812.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">That's not lip service. I believe it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">With tears running down my face, I believe it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm strong. Stronger than I ever imagined I'd have to be but a funny thing happens when you lose your heart. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It grows again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">If you let it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I've made the decision that I'm not ok with how things are. I won't accept that things can't be better because, if that were true, I'd never be in the position I'm in where I have more than I ever expected. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's not what I wanted. It's not what I prayed for and it's not what I expected my life to be, it's a different kind of ok. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">That's the funny thing about life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We don't script it. We simply love it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib106rnYt0dJCc3vHiM623koPVqFUMLEuJIEhQ0fu3DSq_Av3j3NemOl5z2dzGFUfhVjyQT2v9o5r7yLMqRAqNT1pGcc2B-Wr4oaQLjpc6Fc0aQv-yd5UPnnknE8IJgYs7GZdOo-PkH52e/s640/blogger-image--168547289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib106rnYt0dJCc3vHiM623koPVqFUMLEuJIEhQ0fu3DSq_Av3j3NemOl5z2dzGFUfhVjyQT2v9o5r7yLMqRAqNT1pGcc2B-Wr4oaQLjpc6Fc0aQv-yd5UPnnknE8IJgYs7GZdOo-PkH52e/s640/blogger-image--168547289.jpg"></a></div><br></div>I've dumbed myself down to try to fit. I've minimized the work I've done, every single day, in an effort to mend things. </div><div><br></div><div>That's not fair to me or the journey I've been on. </div><div><br></div><div>You can either get thru life feeling, being present and growing from the pruning or you can die on the vine because you're not willing to hurt. </div><div><br></div><div>I've hurt. </div><div><br></div><div>More than I ever imagined one person could. </div><div><br></div><div>But I made it through. </div><div><br></div><div>I didn't just decide today to start enjoying life. I didn't just wake up one day and feel better. It's a process, it's a long and heavy road of confusion and chaos, and because I hurt, because I felt, because I went through the pain, I'm able to look forward to the beauty that is in front of me. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXCnD4LCXhzok7l1Pb-hc_wqgpls9xinsl9_jH4xWCOXOHboG2EpON1joIMj7y6MjOWdDyH-aeXOBinbSFvQZQsaGJGbBIIXuxZ_N2nsEB5bQHzWhsbrGXBE3iJ41qzgfjwWnbgd_rNYm/s640/blogger-image--1429475423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXCnD4LCXhzok7l1Pb-hc_wqgpls9xinsl9_jH4xWCOXOHboG2EpON1joIMj7y6MjOWdDyH-aeXOBinbSFvQZQsaGJGbBIIXuxZ_N2nsEB5bQHzWhsbrGXBE3iJ41qzgfjwWnbgd_rNYm/s640/blogger-image--1429475423.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div>I've never lost myself. I've lost a lot. I've lost an entire family, my world shifted and changed and I sometimes I don't know my address, my name or where I'm going next but I'm confident in this. </div><div><br></div><div>Life is hard. </div><div><br></div><div>But my will to have what I want and deserve and have worked so hard to have is stronger than any pain I've faced. </div><div><br></div><div>I didn't get here alone. I got here with an army of beautiful people, a God whose grace is more abundant than anything I've ever known and a desire to make every single blessing more beautiful because of the pain I've allowed myself to feel. </div><div><br></div><div>Life is hard. </div><div><br></div><div>Let me say this, if someone shares with you a piece of their heart, even if it doesn't mean much to you, it took courage for them they probably don't feel too confident in. Acknowledge it. Be human enough to give them something back. Even if it's small. What may seem insignificant to you may go a long way in healing someone's brokeness. </div><div><br></div><div>Seems silly not to do something as simple as a text, phone call, email back that literally takes seconds but could change someone's life. If you could do that, help someone's heart by being human enough to respond, wouldn't you? </div><div><br></div><div>Won't you? </div><div><br></div><div>What would be harder that the pain of loss, I think, is a life of regret, not lived out of fear. </div><div><br></div><div>Had I not loved so greatly, the pain wouldn't be so deep. </div><div><br></div><div>I'll never regret opening myself to the possibility of the pain that comes from having an open heart, because the love I've known has forever changed me and given me the courage, the strength and the fight to see how this story ends. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm halfway through. It's been a rollercoaster of crazy but it's not been boring. </div><div><br></div><div>I can rest in knowing this, I don't know what tomorrow holds but I know I'm strong enough to make the decisions to get me where I want to go. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBTq5dEKCbju5w2QBd0rObHB66jm-U3TVG6HyR758_FC14EfkOZoGCqQq-1qv9vpFm5qsKTTdSTffwBI1PNaQJygBJtE9SlT-WfHxlZvItDZOib-d9cv_INaBH70ZG7DZD_ubmVl10TIx/s640/blogger-image--1025167428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBTq5dEKCbju5w2QBd0rObHB66jm-U3TVG6HyR758_FC14EfkOZoGCqQq-1qv9vpFm5qsKTTdSTffwBI1PNaQJygBJtE9SlT-WfHxlZvItDZOib-d9cv_INaBH70ZG7DZD_ubmVl10TIx/s640/blogger-image--1025167428.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>High heels, sparkly soul and another last name. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-36799883780710823192015-05-09T16:31:00.001-07:002015-05-09T17:14:02.259-07:00Selfies with MomI've had this "life is what you make it"<div>and "don't wait for losing 20lbs, a man, a baby, to write a book until blah blah blah to do what you want to do" attitude lately. </div><div><br></div><div>I've thought, seriously, about taking a few weeks and traveling somewhere. Alone. Napa, Nantucket, I've even had a wild hair to get my passport and go somewhere I've never been and do things I've never experienced, with just me because right now, well, it's just me. </div><div><br></div><div>Then I do something alone and realize I hate being alone. </div><div><br></div><div>My Mom wanted to go to the Columbia for Mother's Day so I met them in St Augustine. I circled the restaurant for 20 minutes until I could navigate, with google maps, how to find it. In the midst of being lost, my mom calls and can hear the panic in my voice and asks where I am so I look to the left and say "beside Monkey Balls Cafe." My mom being my mom asks the host, "my daughter is lost, she's beside Monkey Balls Cafe, can you give her directions?" </div><div><br></div><div>In a sea of tourists, going down streets I was certain weren't meant for cars and passing up parking spaces because I can't parallel park to save my life, on the brink of hysteria. </div><div><br></div><div>With people everywhere. Everywhere! </div><div><br></div><div>I guess the historic old town doesn't believe in valet. </div><div><br></div><div>After nearly bumper checking clueless people walking in the middle of the street not hearing my obviously invisible car about to run them over, a verbal altercation with a parking attendant, and 14 3-point turns to make it into a spot, I finally <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">made it to the restaurant. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Pissy and anxious but had a lovely dinner with my parents. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Part of being an adult is knowing your limitations and a vacation 45 mins from home at a beach resort where you don't have to leave the property is probably the closest to exotic vacations I'll get until I'm coupled up or have a higher dose prescription of Xanax. </div><div><br></div><div>So I do what any emotionally on the edge person does. </div><div><br></div><div>I went to the boy's tree. </div><div><br></div><div>Alone. </div><div><br></div><div>My parents would have gone, they probably wanted me to ask them to go with me but as much as I hate being alone, somethings just feel like they need to be done in solitude. </div><div><br></div><div>My boy's tree is in a beautiful place. It's quiet, peaceful, healing, really just beautiful and as much as I hate it, I love it even more. </div><div><br></div><div>Their tree is growing like crazy. It's taller than me now. Amazing what 28 months can do for things. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitInMfd2M07odAxczpWXkrTflkYvLrV4l61YiRu_RfXh-jiSfEFc0nuWFaWAqFSxBPEQZS2lNhg99obc_GozOtlSh-fMHhpwheFP48oQ01SsVo6bMEtYNnGgBu_gVfS97S_sGcafa_KUiI/s640/blogger-image--1330618786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitInMfd2M07odAxczpWXkrTflkYvLrV4l61YiRu_RfXh-jiSfEFc0nuWFaWAqFSxBPEQZS2lNhg99obc_GozOtlSh-fMHhpwheFP48oQ01SsVo6bMEtYNnGgBu_gVfS97S_sGcafa_KUiI/s640/blogger-image--1330618786.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I know people were staring at me. This crazy blonde, kneeling beside a tree, trying to take a selfie with the only thing I can that physically represents the passage of time without my boys, a grieving mother trying to pose in front of a tree. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhq3oWdqHK_KZmiUCsynpS5r4dKVksmxTOdtST8rUuWwMTIf00pH6GUA3AMO87Lw5yrK7rqr3AcpKYawJLclq6DQ5hXRxBMzd1gk7qDC-2-JLAIGUyE9wa8ZviiNrXD8GuPUcCVfEoev4/s640/blogger-image--1128656446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhq3oWdqHK_KZmiUCsynpS5r4dKVksmxTOdtST8rUuWwMTIf00pH6GUA3AMO87Lw5yrK7rqr3AcpKYawJLclq6DQ5hXRxBMzd1gk7qDC-2-JLAIGUyE9wa8ZviiNrXD8GuPUcCVfEoev4/s640/blogger-image--1128656446.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm trying to wrangle the tree, snap a selfie, and looked up to see a family stopped in front of me. The dad and kids had kept walking but the mom wasn't even hiding that she was staring at me. I smiled, embarrassingly, then looked at her family and realized she had 2 boys, same age, same clothes, probably 3 year old twin boys, and I just laughed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Because when you are at the tree where your boys ashes are buried and you see a mother staring at you with twin boys, there's not much else you can do. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'll tell you something about life. And grief. And feelings in general. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">They don't make sense. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hardly ever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I saw the bear I got the boys at Christmas, still there, beat up and probably assaulted by more than a few squirrels, but it's been there everytime I go. And still plays music when you press it's foot. So I'm sitting there listening to jingle bells, over and over, coming from this bear that's been through the elements, in front of a tree that is growing, with just myself, who is healing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I go up to walk away, feeling pretty ok. Then the anxiety hit me. A full fledged anxiety attack there in the middle of this beautiful place. It always surprised me, each time I went to the boy's tree, that the bear was still there and I didn't realize how much I needed it to be there until I walked away from it and knew how much it would hurt if I came back and it was gone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So I went and got it and took it with me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Not logical, but I realize logic went out the window a long time ago and I'm finding healing however I need to, as crazy as it may be. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Everyday. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Mother's Day is hard. For a lot of people. It's really special but it can also be really hard. And I'm trying to let the really special be louder than the really hard but sometimes just hurts worse than others. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The past few days have hurt. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I know my limitations and realize I probably won't be taking a solo trip to the south of France like I've thought about but I also never expected I'd be alone, after knowing such love and such loss, and still be able to smile. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sometimes you surprise yourself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I sat on a bench, overlooking the water and couldn't stop the tears from coming. This Mother's Day is different from last year, for 1000 different reasons and it hurts. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As the alligator tears rolled from my face to my dress, I went to get my keys and hit the foot of the bear that has come to mean so much to me, jingle bells start playing again so I did what I needed to do. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sat there and cried. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Alone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Until a lady walking her dog came up behind me, laid her hands on my shoulders and wished me a Happy Mother's Day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She was walking away by the time I turned around but the weight of her hand on my shoulder lifted a load I had been carrying. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm not alone. Not today, not tomorrow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I carry two very special boys with me, everywhere I go. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Happy Mother's Day- from my heart to yours! <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV4A8wXanb-lgCH1meNjUD3QYA7U6hatmkBeAbOcJkda5UoZS9VhUhqLIyPK20BJ5NJQD8iXlV85HptMFYsVtXO9U5n9Qj-ScJnvtU8rJKnH6dDgDg3CyjIOSLCssihP2MlyrUJpgsX89q/s640/blogger-image-2105840319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV4A8wXanb-lgCH1meNjUD3QYA7U6hatmkBeAbOcJkda5UoZS9VhUhqLIyPK20BJ5NJQD8iXlV85HptMFYsVtXO9U5n9Qj-ScJnvtU8rJKnH6dDgDg3CyjIOSLCssihP2MlyrUJpgsX89q/s640/blogger-image-2105840319.jpg"></a></div></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-27342915215771806822015-04-16T16:53:00.001-07:002015-04-16T17:05:24.266-07:00Daddy's little girl and Mom's best friendI consider my a grown up. I mean, I'm 36, I have a job, pay my bills, have handled some crazy stuff. <div><br></div><div>Then I go on a date. </div><div><br></div><div>And the guy has a scar on his lip. Kind of a big scar. I'm imagining a knife fight, a motorcycle wreck, something crazy, right? So I guess he caught me staring at it, rude, I know, and he touches it and tells me what happened. </div><div><br></div><div>He got bit. By a horse. On his lip. I mean, tragic and scary. But all I could do was picture this and I'm pinching myself not to laugh at the thought of a 2000 lb horse biting this man's lip and I realize I'm not completely mature.</div><div><br></div><div>Today I had to make a very grown up decision. And I didn't even realize I was making it until I got in my car to go to my parents and found myself on a road leading me to a place I haven't been ready to go to. </div><div><br></div><div>I found a peace. I knew I was ready. And I was proud of myself for doing it. Until I couldn't. So I do what every grown, adult person does, and called my mom, crying, asking her to tell me I was making the right decision. </div><div><br></div><div>She didn't tell me I was. She didn't tell me what to do. She listened and she prayed and she talked me thru one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. And I did it. And then went to my parent's house and cried on my dad for a little while. </div><div><br></div><div>Not very grown. </div><div><br></div><div>But hugely important. </div><div><br></div><div>I've never doubted whether I could go to my parents for anything. Sometimes I've gone to them for probably too much but I've never questioned whether I could or not. </div><div><br></div><div>So I'm 36 years old, sitting on my parent's couch, first time out of the house in nearly 2 weeks, opening an Easter basket, talking to my parents about very real, very hard, very honest things and I realized I'm not ashamed of running to my mom and dad. Never have been, never will be. </div><div><br></div><div>Life has handed me a lot of really hard times but the one thing that had always been a constant, a sure thing, a never have a doubt about, is that whether I'm 36 or 63, I will never stop wanting, needing or appreciating the 2 most beautiful, real, most selfless people I've ever known. </div><div><br></div><div>My parents did a lot right and here I am, one of them. They have given me the tools to get thru things they've never faced, they've given me a soft place to land when I needed it, tough love when I didn't want it and a never ending supply of unconditional love. </div><div><br></div><div>I love deep, I forgive always and I trust without ceasing and I'm who I am because 2 incredible souls believed in me! </div><div><br></div><div>I have a lot of voices in my head fighting for attention. Keep the comments to yourself. But of all the voices that speak doubt, fear, rejection and confusion, the voices of my parents speak the loudest. And the moments I question whether I can keep going with the pain, the hurt, the confusion and fear that life brings, I know I can. </div><div><br></div><div>Their voices speak loudest and I've never doubted what I hear. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm blessed. For so many reasons but for most of all them! </div><div><br></div><div>If you have parents, grandparents, the person that's your inner voice, maybe call them, love them, tell them. </div><div><br></div><div>They deserve to know. </div><div><br></div><div>Mom, Dad, how much do I love you? More than you could possibly ever know! </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-v1BADowtF5Pb74vnCsm2Rfpyhs-3TKrJ9jGcQyNK_hVWxoYnA7S9K2-8tlpVzzmaeBDseeokKnm7g3VCFHlcD0s0bHM_knQpj-uLRUwR4j-Yn-8oaBUHmyXkzPRXRyRgpV11iNH8sUy/s640/blogger-image-380161970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-v1BADowtF5Pb74vnCsm2Rfpyhs-3TKrJ9jGcQyNK_hVWxoYnA7S9K2-8tlpVzzmaeBDseeokKnm7g3VCFHlcD0s0bHM_knQpj-uLRUwR4j-Yn-8oaBUHmyXkzPRXRyRgpV11iNH8sUy/s640/blogger-image-380161970.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-2127398888560117582015-03-27T13:19:00.002-07:002015-03-27T13:19:12.718-07:00When you belong nowhere, 2 years later...My March article for Still Standing Magazine. <br />
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"In two years I've grown. I've healed. I've spread my stupid wings and have seen where they can take me. To some beautiful place where all that is missing is everything I wanted with me. But 2 years later, I'm Standing. Still." <br />
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<a href="http://stillstandingmag.com/2015/03/two-years-later-belong-nowhere/">http://stillstandingmag.com/2015/03/two-years-later-belong-nowhere/</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-25563375484386244792015-03-18T19:57:00.001-07:002015-03-18T20:04:26.110-07:00Driving the Struggle BusAm I happy? <br>
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More so than I've been in too long. </div>
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And it feels fab! </div>
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<br></div><div>Truly. </div><div><br></div><div>Fabulous. </div><div><br></div>
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I've taken a break from social media and it's made me look at life differently. After living my life in such a public way, taking time to live privately has been cathartic. </div>
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I've got my divorce papers. I was ready for them. I was strong and ready and anxious to sign them. </div>
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Then I opened them and had a complete and total good ole fashioned go to pieces. </div><div><br></div><div>Seeing the name of the person you married in that context of ending something that was so much of who I was was harder than I wanted it to be. </div>
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But...it's ending something that no longer is. I'm divorcing someone that no longer is to me what I fell in love with and someone I no longer am. </div><div><br></div><div>That's heavy. It's a very heavy load I've been shouldering, alone, for far too long. </div>
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I recently saw some people I haven't seen in awhile and they all showered me with hugs and love and kindness. And the words, spoken from a lovely soul who has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known said, "I've missed your smile, it's so good to see it again." </div>
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I can't even say how incredibly good it feels to truly have it back. </div>
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Life isn't easy, things fall on you that are meant to break you and the beauty that comes from walking away with your head high is a powerful thing. </div>
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My head's not always high. I'm grieving the ending of something I didn't expect to end. I'm a lover, I'm a forgiver, I'm someone who needs answers and the struggle bus I've been driving is because sometimes there just aren't answers. And that's hard. </div>
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What's harder was having so much inside me that was unfullfilled for so long. For chasing a love that died a long time ago. For running after answers that would never come and even if they did could never truly make sense. </div>
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There's a peace in making a decision. </div>
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<br></div><div>And I feel like I've let the weight of the world and so many unfullfilled promises finally slip off my shoulders. </div><div><br></div>
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So many decisions have been made for me and the control freak in me fought it at every turn. </div>
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It's hard letting go of a dream you had. Even when the dream no longer fit, no longer was a benefit and no longer brought me anything but pain.</div>
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I don't have a happiness that lights my smile. Happiness, I know all too well, is fleeting. </div>
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What I have found is a joy that cant be denied. I haven't had the luxury of Facebook to tell me job well done. I haven't had Instagram to tell me that I'm going to make it. </div>
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What I've had, what I found, is that as much as I miss being part of something, the healing I've found with finding myself has been healing in a way I didn't know I needed. </div>
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<br></div><div>Dang, that feels good. </div><div><br></div>
<div>With that understanding, I also know I'm meant to be part of something. I'm better when I'm part of a team, when I have someone else to love. </div><div><br></div><div>I haven't had that but I found something really special I wasn't looking for. </div>
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I found a love, a pride, a peace that can only come from not only believing in but loving yourself. </div>
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What I went thru, what I've faced should have damaged me more than it has. But God has placed an impossibly strong belief that His plans are bigger than ANYTHING I can imagine for myself. </div>
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I lost a lot. I gained even more. And I'm excited, I'm hopeful and I'm ready to see what the next chapter of this crazy life brings me </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-32679513293570539662015-03-11T09:30:00.001-07:002015-03-11T13:22:57.104-07:00Devastating day and the prayer of a strangerToday I had to do something that I've been dreading for the year we've been discussing it. I had to meet my soon to be exhusband, that I haven't seen in 8 months, to sign a form destroying the 10 frozen embryos that we have. <div><br></div><div>Devastated. </div><div><br></div><div>I was shaking, I was crying, I was damn near close to hysteria and I was completely shattered. I am one of the lucky parents who got to hold and see both of her babies after they were born. A lot of parents who lose premature don't get that gift. I saw that Tucker looked like me. For so long I'd wondered what holding a baby that was part of me would look like. And I held him. And he was perfect. Then weeks later, I held Fletcher. And he looked just like his Daddy. </div><div><br></div><div>The embryos are my last hope of having a baby that has the characteristics of their brothers. It's a hope I've held onto for a long time. </div><div><br></div><div>The thought of destroying the hope I had for each one of those embryos broke my heart in a way no one can understand unless you've had to face that impossible decision. </div><div><br></div><div>Do I want to be tied to a man who walked out on me because life's hurts were too much? No. Do I want to have babies that are siblings of my boys? </div><div><br></div><div>More than anything.</div><div><br></div><div>I begged, pleaded and cried with him to let me have them. He was ok donating them to other families so they wouldn't have to go thru the hell we went thru. He was ok knowing he may have children walking this earth that he doesn't know about, but he won't allow me that. I offered to move out of the state, country,</div><div>sign away all rights, he won't agree. He's fine with other people having our kids, just not me. </div><div><br></div><div>I sat outside the dr's office with that form, head on the steering wheel, my body racked with sobs coming from a place of despair I didn't know I had. </div><div><br></div><div>I couldn't turn the form in. Not yet. It's too big of a decision that I have absolutely no peace about. </div><div><br></div><div>I reached out to some friends and family and asked them to pray for me. Of course my loving, selfless prayer warriors circled around me and one specifically asked that God would give me a word, a song, something specific that would help me thru this. </div><div><br></div><div>I went to Walgreens and had my head down, trying to cover my tear stained face and hide the tears that were falling and I wasn't speaking to the cashier but I heard her talking. Then I realized she was praying. Out loud. She was praying for me. I looked up, tears running down my face with a look of total loss and she said, if you agree then just say "Amen." I looked at this beautiful lady who had no idea the gift she had just shared with me and whispered, "Amen."</div><div><br></div><div>I've had some exciting doors open for me over the past week that have given me a hope and peace for motherhood that I haven't had in a long time. Naively I thought that would replace the brokenness of losing the hope of what the embryos held for me. </div><div><br></div><div>Life is heavy. Way too heavy sometimes and today I was literally crushed under the weight of decisions that are being made for me that I have no control over. </div><div><br></div><div>And I lost it. </div><div><br></div><div>And in that brokenness, the kindness of a stranger and her heartfelt prayer that God would hold me, guide me, keep me and love me until I can see the light at the end of the tunnel lifted some of the weight that made me feel like I was drowning. </div><div><br></div><div>I don't know what tomorrow holds. I know that sometimes the circumstances we face today are so devastating it's hard to see past. But I also know that in my darkest hours, the moments I've felt completely alone and forgotten, God uses the most unlikely people to speak to my heart. </div><div><br></div><div>The prayer of a stranger, spoken out loud in faith and belief gave me the push to keep walking forward. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHMD0mWo2yajPCcM7fjTEzg0MxwAfbEOtUUPqdh-KXtemvAXrtfOIT8uUK0mlZm0BK728QY1o9E5ANHUYkhr-cqIhOrVZIucyb_JKQ2Yxe1yYcO-0okLyvo8qI-YgnLKso1KGZqDlHCBKx/s640/blogger-image--2011341007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHMD0mWo2yajPCcM7fjTEzg0MxwAfbEOtUUPqdh-KXtemvAXrtfOIT8uUK0mlZm0BK728QY1o9E5ANHUYkhr-cqIhOrVZIucyb_JKQ2Yxe1yYcO-0okLyvo8qI-YgnLKso1KGZqDlHCBKx/s640/blogger-image--2011341007.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-2242461151388466142015-02-16T12:36:00.001-08:002015-02-17T08:26:53.264-08:00What does divorce really cost?<div><br></div><div>So, divorce. That's fun. In a kick yourself in the teeth kind of way. I've been trying my best to hold it together, the past week I think I've cried more tears from a place of pain I didn't know I had. It's funny, how tears come from different places. </div><div><br></div><div>I have been so close to losing my mind I can't even tell you. And I'm not being facetious, I'm not being self depreciating, when I say I've been close to losing it, I mean it. I've often thought of driving myself to the closest mental ward because they would have to know what to do with a crazy person like me. Better than I know what to do with myself. But I don't even know where those are. Which I guess may be a blessing in disguise and keeping me out of lockdown and a padded room. </div><div><br></div><div>Divorce sucks. It's the ending of something that I went into without a contingency plan. I never even considered one because I knew, finally, I'd found the person I was meant to be with forever. Who would protect me, love me unconditionally and be beside me through everything good and bad that life brings. And let me love and take care of him, too. </div><div><br></div><div>I didn't expect that to end. </div><div><br></div><div>I don't think I could have handled losing my husband with a fully intact heart. That my heart was already completely shattered, I can say, only by God's grace have I not given up. </div><div><br></div><div>Laura Story sings a song called "Grace"</div><div>that I heard the other day and it spoke so strongly to my torn and beaten spirit. </div><div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">"And each time I will fall short of your glory, how far will forgiveness abound? But you answer: "My child I love you, and as long as you're seeking my face, you'll walk in the power of my daily sufficient grace." </span></div><div><br></div><div>Dang. If that doesn't answer every question of "how am I still breathing with a brokenness I don't know how to maneuver" than I don't know what does. </div><div><br></div><div>Divorce is expensive. It robs you of all kinds of things that go beyond splitting this and that. </div><div><br></div><div>What has it cost me? </div><div><br></div>My Sanity- <div>When you basically have an entire family erased from your life and you are left with only yourself, feelings of insanity are a constant companion. <br><div><div><br></div><div>My Self worth-</div><div>When you're told by someone you trusted your heart with that you're nothing, you gave nothing, you did nothing and you ruined everything, it's hard to feel like you have anything to offer anyone. And this is what's been hardest for me. Because I know in my heart who I am, what I have to offer, but if the person you're trying to give everything to doesn't want it, how can you be blamed for not doing enough? My old self would have said "screw you, I'm pretty fantastic and it's your loss for not recognizing what I am." My current self screams, "please love me, please tell me that I was worth something, anything." Sigh. <br><div><br></div><div>My Dignity-</div></div><div>When you scream and cry to an empty room because you are desperate to matter to someone, when you beg to not be ignored and looked thru as though you aren't important enough for a second glance, your dignity flies out the window. </div><div><br></div><div>My Health-</div><div>When you internalize every failure, every hurt, every what might have been, it takes it's toll. When your resistance is already down from a year of trying to keep from drowning, stress can manifest itself in all kinds of ways that make your body hate you. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">My Appearance-</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I used to feel pretty more days than not. Now I feel lucky if I don't scare small children. I'm haggard and I'm wrinkled. The past 2 years have not been kind to this gal. </span></div><div><br></div><div>My Pride-</div><div>When you fight for every conversation for a year, when you have to defend every nasty, hurtful, cruel thing that's been said about you, and you continue to go back to the source of pain in hopes of finding a glimpse of what you are losing, pride is the last thing you feel. </div><div><br></div><div>Today I had a series of much needed light bulb moments. Thoughts were flooding my mind like a movie I was watching, memories of good times, devastating times, confusing and frustrating times. Tears fell as I thought back on so many things. </div><div><br></div><div>Did I fail? Am I worthless? Did I never make him feel like he mattered or do anything nice for him or make him feel special? </div><div><br></div><div>No. That's not accurate and I'm speaking truth to this so that I can move past it. </div><div><br></div><div>I had a friend, she was self admittedly very overweight. And she joked one time that she was anorexic. The group we were with all kind of stopped what we were doing and looked at her like, "huh?" She said, with a big smile on her face, "I know I'm anorexic because everytime I look in the mirror I see a fat girl looking back at me." </div><div><br></div><div>It was a "duh" moment but she was making fun of herself and saying hi to the elephant in the room before anyone else could point it out. </div><div><br></div><div>I've often felt like saying "I'm an abused woman because no matter how poorly I've been treated by those who are supposed to love me, I still only see the best and good in them and I keep going back for more verbal assaults. But they must really love me, somewhere deep. Maybe he's just confused because he couldn't possibly believe the horrible things he is telling me about myself right?!"</div><div><br></div><div>Duh. </div><div><br></div><div>Abuse is a big word. I don't use it lightly and it kind of punches me in the gut to admit it. Abuse can range from a multitude of things but emotional and mental anguish, cruelness and verbal attacks are very real. Sometimes they don't come from your spouse, sometimes they come from people connected. It's still wrong, it still leaves marks and it's not acceptable. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm guilty of losing my temper, obviously. I've thrown things, I've hit things, I've screamed and I've cried. Desperation brings out the ugly. Dignity and pride gone, remember? I'm certainly not proud of that. </div><div><br></div><div>I failed at a lot of things. </div><div><br></div><div>But my marriage didn't fail because I wasn't good enough. I didn't lose an entire family because I didn't make anyone feel special or do anything good for them or I didn't grieve fast enough. </div><div><br></div><div>It failed when it became more work than being easy and the scales were tipped and I didn't measure up. The realness of me and our situation and the work it would take to get us back to healthy wasn't as appealing as erasing me completely from their life. When things got hard, he left. Me sobbing on the floor. Over and over. He took the kids, he left and he hasn't looked back. </div><div><br></div><div>It's made me feel like I was losing my mind. For 5 years they had consumed every part of my life, every memory I have. So when every. single. thing. I was used to being involved in was taken from me, of course I was lost. Of course I was emotional. I didn't have my husband I loved more than anything, my life partner to talk thru the daily struggles with, laugh with, love with, I didn't have baseball games, football practice, dance competition, school projects, homework, vacations, never ending laundry, a dog that was in the middle of everything to keep me busy enough to forget what left me. </div><div><br></div><div>I only had me. And after so long of having total chaos that being married, with 3 kids and a dog brings, the silence was absolutely deafening. </div><div><br></div></div></div><div>I've been beaten down. I've kept going back for more, shame on me. And every single time I've lost more of who I am and what makes me me. Because I gave someone else the power to control my feelings, my emotions and turned my belief from knowing who I was to feeling that I wasn't good enough. </div><div><br></div><div>I've been scared. So fearful of living a life without them that it's made me blind to the fact that, for a long time I haven't had them and I'm still surviving. And the only thing the memories and thoughts and attempts at making sure I was remembered and important and revelant in the lives that mattered so much to me, didn't change that I wasn't as important to them as I thought. </div><div><br></div><div>Devastating. </div><div><br></div><div>But that's not a failure on my part. I gave absolutely everything I had and left my heart on the table. </div><div><br></div><div>I realized tonight that I tried everything I could to make it work and I wouldn't be able to close this chapter of my life, as painful as it is, if I didn't try everything I could. But the only way it ever got ok was when I made myself smaller. I stopped talking about God because it made him uncomfortable, I stopped laughing so much because he couldn't understand how I could be joyful when life was sucking so bad. I had to accept unacceptable behavior from others because that's just how they were. </div><div><br></div><div>No. That's not ok. You don't perpetuate bad behavior, you grow up and make better choices. </div><div><br></div><div>I know this, more certain than anything else, I outgrew him. And a friend threw me a lifeline today that she didn't even realize she was throwing. She told me "Don't let anyone dim your sparkle."</div><div><br></div><div>I've spent too long fighting the voices in my head that remind me that I failed, that I grieved too long, that I'm an attention whore, that I'm selfish. And me going back to the source of my pain that adds new verbiage each time is no longer acceptable. When you know better, it's time to do better. </div><div><br></div><div>The chapter is closed. It's over. And as painful as that is, it can't hurt anymore than being attached to someone who told me and made me believe that I wasn't worth it.</div><div><br></div><div>God gave me a huge gift today in the way of removing the rose colored glasses that inflated all the memories to better than they were for a long time to how life is right now. </div><div><br></div><div>I'll never regret loving him and giving him my heart. Because when it was real and true, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever been part of. I'd never felt more beautiful, more special and more loved. </div><div><br></div><div>He decided I wasn't good enough. That's on him. I'm still me and I'm still full of so much that I want to give someone who is capable of loving me back. </div><div><br></div><div>When I'm ready, there will be someone else who will love this crazy, blonde, haggard mess. </div><div><br></div><div>What does divorce cost? A lot. Ask anyone who has been thru it. </div><div><br></div><div>But what have I gained? A lot. Ask anyone who knows me. I'm constantly seeking for truth, for the strength to be better tomorrow than I was today and I've never let anything make me doubt that God has a plan. </div><div><br></div><div>Divorce- $1500 that I made him pay for</div><div>Botox to help the haggardness -$400</div><div>Boxes of wine- $50</div><div>The peace that comes with knowing that you are closing the door on a part of you that no longer brought anything positive- </div><div>PRICELESS. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm going to take the advice of a very wise and loving aunt and I'm going to be selfish for a moment and take care of me. I'm going to love me and cut myself some slack for not losing my mind or my smile. Most days. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicR5IOaZvem2J-BMzU19qxl6-0zKSGmsg2LbB4CkVY-9rmsvoekWhokVYrKKWJsznxrwiy4Wqu9YCciFYxTsQTt-JqTVkHqLB89__5u6o6k93J6h7AZXrLdRGekFNvRP4gEJDq_wZXyixJ/s640/blogger-image-1470991940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicR5IOaZvem2J-BMzU19qxl6-0zKSGmsg2LbB4CkVY-9rmsvoekWhokVYrKKWJsznxrwiy4Wqu9YCciFYxTsQTt-JqTVkHqLB89__5u6o6k93J6h7AZXrLdRGekFNvRP4gEJDq_wZXyixJ/s640/blogger-image-1470991940.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-21722202794905132902015-02-10T19:16:00.001-08:002015-02-11T18:11:06.894-08:00What am I fighting for?<div>
What am I fighting for? </div>
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Been asking myself that a lot lately. </div>
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So why do I keep fighting? Besides the obvious I guess of having no real other choice? I've always had a strong determination to survive, this is testing the limits. But I've never really seen an alternative to not surviving because I'm not sure as an adult what other choice you have than to figure life out and make it work. </div>
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Doesn't mean it's done with grace. Doesn't mean it's done with a smile on my face. More times than not lately I have tears rolling down my face. I'm not sad all the time but I am so completely raw and the emotions are overflowing. </div>
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What am I fighting so hard for? </div>
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It's not to prove anything to anyone else anymore. It's not for validation from people I so desperately wanted to see and acknowledge a strength in me they always questioned. </div>
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I wasn't sure what my fight was for. </div>
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Then I heard a song that made me realize it. </div>
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<a href="https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-86J8l8c5bc&autoplay=1">https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-86J8l8c5bc&autoplay=1</a></div>
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I'm fighting so hard because I'm a mother to two babies who never stopped fighting. And I have to believe they got that from their mama. </div>
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You hear of parents learning more from their kids than they teach them. I think it's pretty incredible how much 2 little boys I only held for a moment continue to teach me. </div>
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I don't consciencly think of them everyday anymore and I know there has to be se healing in that but it's also hard to let that go. When I do think of them, I think of them as they are now. And I don't know if people in heaven can see the ones left behind but I have to believe their spirits are around because their hearts are with me everyday. </div>
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The fight has been hard lately. Really freakin hard. I have wanted to give up, throw in the towel and call it a day like a million times but I can't. </div>
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Because I have a lot of life to live. Here and now. I'm slowly putting the pieces of my brokenness together and the light shines thru the cracks in different ways and seems to touch people where they need it. And I don't know that until I share my pain and struggle and hear from them that they understand because they are facing it too. It may be the light of faith shining that I believe God hasn't forgotten me. It may be the light that I can live a good life thru grief that changes and the pain that lessens as each day I wake up without Tucker and Fletcher. It may be the light of a very lonely woman going thru a divorce from a man she loves and misses everyday. It could be the light shining thru the cracks of worry, anxiety, despair. Or maybe it's the light of hope and faith and belief. </div>
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My life is transparent, I have a ton of cracks and what is inside me shines out. Sometimes bright, sometimes dim but the light of love and hope has never been burnt out. </div>
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Why do I fight so hard? Because I want to be the best of me I can be. For the people around me but most importantly for my babies who I know are beside me. </div>
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I heard this song and I've listened on repeat. Heaven is far away when what you want is waiting but my life is here and I'll continue to fight the good fight here so that when my time on earth is over, I will spend forever with my babies. </div>
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"Homeward Bound.."</div>
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I will run<br />
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I will run this race</div>
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And I will do it all for love</div>
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Your love compels me forward</div>
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You love controls my heart </div>
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And I just can't</div>
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I cannot get away</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So I will fight</span></div>
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This good fight of faith</div>
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And I will do it all for love</div>
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You are my great reward</div>
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You're so worth fighting for</div>
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And I can't wait to see your face". </div>
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I can't wait to see my babies. I see them in my dreams, I feel their arms around my neck, I can even hear their voices. Which is the strength of a mothers loving desire as I never even heard them cry. It's real though. It's so real. </div>
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But when I open my eyes they disappear. </div>
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I'll run this race, I'll fight the good fight of faith and I will do it all for the love of my</div>
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boys. When we'll never be seperated again. </div>
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Their mom isn't a quitter. I can't wait to see their faces when I will know without a doubt that my boys will be proud of their mama and I can run with them and never again have to be apart. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-9659813418027076952015-02-04T17:50:00.001-08:002015-02-04T18:10:45.043-08:00Period from hell and 3 pints of ice creamLife needs to freaking let up. Not joking, not being facetious, not being woe is me. It just seriously needs the let up for 5 seconds so I can catch my breath. <div><br></div><div>If I have any male readers, feel free to stop reading. </div><div><br></div><div>So you know how every mother always says that the pain of child birth is forgotten the moment your baby is laid in your arms? </div><div><br></div><div>I believe that's true.</div><div><br></div><div>Except for when it's not. </div><div><br></div><div>I'll never forget child birth. With both boys, I remember every. single. pain. I remember every detail, I remember it all like it was yesterday. </div><div><br></div><div>Mainly because I go thru the pain all the time. I've always had horrible periods, always. The dr's have told me since I was very young that once I went thru child birth, the pain would get better. </div><div><br></div><div>And it did. For a year and a half my body was normal. I mean, except for the breast milk I still had up until about 2 months ago. But was mostly normal til one day it had decided I'd had enough of a reprieve and the flood gates of hell opened up once again. </div><div><br></div><div>There are 3 types of people when it comes to period hell. Men who haven't a clue. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii08rjy6QTMjMg5SRyjDPGTPXB6Z5s9nBq50lM2nazk3aGpx1GTHXeKI8AjsJwbyFTJnV4LYMayW_6AIqYB31uOvZiLxoxwYk2exHVApcxxV1mmix0pVlrFEkFtzdccDlV0FUIU-hm8uy9/s640/blogger-image--35806716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii08rjy6QTMjMg5SRyjDPGTPXB6Z5s9nBq50lM2nazk3aGpx1GTHXeKI8AjsJwbyFTJnV4LYMayW_6AIqYB31uOvZiLxoxwYk2exHVApcxxV1mmix0pVlrFEkFtzdccDlV0FUIU-hm8uy9/s640/blogger-image--35806716.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Woman who have some cramps here and there, some moments of wanting to hurt someone during PMS and then the group of woman whose lives are put on hold during the worst times of their lives.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKj1bnnXtvLWcWcm9aQ5a_VkYygd8jfp5eGfNPXNX1XEo5hlb_vInHGt0INg42PMjGpqsEd4S1GvUGzBCJjI24wxoww07RbIPvIYQSaVcCa8tedGkA5YHMmWJ92d2YTd9d88rVMp4VWU_b/s640/blogger-image--643965048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKj1bnnXtvLWcWcm9aQ5a_VkYygd8jfp5eGfNPXNX1XEo5hlb_vInHGt0INg42PMjGpqsEd4S1GvUGzBCJjI24wxoww07RbIPvIYQSaVcCa8tedGkA5YHMmWJ92d2YTd9d88rVMp4VWU_b/s640/blogger-image--643965048.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Every. Single. Month. </div><div><br></div><div>Except I'm not normal so for the better part of the last 120 days, I've been living this hell. Some days it's ok. Some days I want to kill people. Other days I eat my face off. Some times I wake up 11 lbs heavier than when I went to bed because of fluid retention. Hand to heaven truth. Other days my face looks like a proactive commercial and then the really amazing days I am curled in a fetal position with a heating pad cursing the fertility gods that cause this pain that remind me I'm still not pregnant and they really want me to realize that. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCJAUFYyRZdg6ULdMWtrsUjv-dWkaRbGNZzvHU7gE7aHAVoXORb0TEfZc5IIHUWkLYz-gwVWpxf_awSVzzwKQ4Y-NDJkcvR6kBTm7uzp39Hd3QjmqKIp7INwgwtxSrMFUwuBDPO4EBS0B/s640/blogger-image-769945052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCJAUFYyRZdg6ULdMWtrsUjv-dWkaRbGNZzvHU7gE7aHAVoXORb0TEfZc5IIHUWkLYz-gwVWpxf_awSVzzwKQ4Y-NDJkcvR6kBTm7uzp39Hd3QjmqKIp7INwgwtxSrMFUwuBDPO4EBS0B/s640/blogger-image-769945052.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>That's been me the past week. My dr's have told me I'm one of the lucky few that goes thru true labor pains more often than most during their cycles. It sucks on a normal day.</div><div><br></div><div>Other times it's devastating. </div><div><br></div><div>To be laid up, in excruciating pain, reliving the worst two times of your life is simply devastating. Because it's not just the physical that is too much to handle. It's the memories that play like a movie in my mind of when I truly was in labor. And how that ended. </div><div><br></div><div>My dr has me on different meds trying to make my life less hellish. And that backfired and for 3 months I had a constant period. Life has been fun around me let me tell you. Then I get a 3 week reprieve and out of nowhere a few days ago I'm knocked on my back. </div><div><br></div><div>Literally. On my back with a heating pad and 4 heavy pillows on top. I have heating pad burns. How do you even explain that if I had to go to the ER or something? </div><div><br></div><div>Please, someone, tell me it's not that bad. I promise I will slice your tongue out. </div><div><br></div><div>Sometimes all the stars line up in life and just make you want to check yourself into an all expense paid trip by insurance and copay into the closest mental ward you can find so you can get a moments peace. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm transparent, remember? </div><div><br></div><div>So, what have we learned today in my blog? </div><div><br></div><div>I'm hormonal. I'm still half past crazy and I'm a mess. </div><div><br></div><div>But I'm trying my best to not let the crazy take over every part of my life. I like to spread it out evenly amongst all areas. </div><div><br></div><div>You know, like talking to your ex about the divorce papers that are "in the mail." </div><div><br></div><div>Hot mess, party of 14 personalities checking in. </div><div><br></div><div>If it's not one thing it's 15437 others but so far my rack record of getting thru the crap is 100% even if the ways I get thru it are pints of ice cream, 3 heating pads and a box of Kleenex with a whole lot of caring people who allow me the grace to be myself. </div><div><br></div><div>Right now I feel like a big fat lump of charcoal and that the light at the end of the tunnel is a speeding train headed right for me. </div><div><br></div><div>But I know it's not accurate. Tomorrow I'll wake up with a better attitude than I have today and most likely, with an empty pint of ice cream laying beside me and a heating pad burn to remind me I made it another day! </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7l1RnUeB2absXn-G_LPOkM1_Yi0rXHaf_Y_zvry628jAV3yqez8m7YFPXEHYTo-MMC0xDMI5NapWmbrx8sM9kHwDwN3Yry3BqOAkk7Ld70FBJgDyZHxgkKJOrUkVX3DMUio_v5rZBx1Zu/s640/blogger-image-1103183292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7l1RnUeB2absXn-G_LPOkM1_Yi0rXHaf_Y_zvry628jAV3yqez8m7YFPXEHYTo-MMC0xDMI5NapWmbrx8sM9kHwDwN3Yry3BqOAkk7Ld70FBJgDyZHxgkKJOrUkVX3DMUio_v5rZBx1Zu/s640/blogger-image-1103183292.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-17874279566803450002015-01-22T19:57:00.001-08:002015-01-24T20:14:13.461-08:00Dating episode 2- Man Boobs, Wine and Moving OnSo, I feel mostly "moved on." Which is good considering I'm trying to date. I just don't how rational is it to think you can move on from a husband and family that's no longer in your life. <div><br></div><div>But I'm giving it the ole college try.<br>
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In a rare moment of clarity I realized that I'll never truly move on from what I leave behind. There's too much there. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I spent a long time deleting pictures off social media (a lot of pics, like over 500) of my pre-life before being told "SIJCD". (Sorry I Just Can't Deal). </span></div><div><br></div><div>I don't think I can "move on" in the way I was expecting. </div>
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I hate that, by the way. Wait til some well meaning person tells you it's time to move on when you're in the midst of trying your best to freaking move on and see if you don't wanna punch them. </div>
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<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It's making it hard for me.</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> Because I still desire to know what going on with the kids, what they are are up, how they are doing. There are no visitation rights for ex-stepparents even thought you spent 4+ years of your life loving your kids. And if I'm being honest and transparent as I try to be, it's hard to move past someone who was your best friend. Who knew the ins and outs of you. The things that annoyed you and the things that made you most happy. It's not normal to have to move away from your best friend. </span></div>
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<br></div><div>It's especially glaringly obvious <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">when you go on date after date of people that make it really annoying to be back in the dating world. </span></div><div><br></div>
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But what had happened was, the person calling the shots decided that we couldn't make it because life is supposed to be rainbows and fairy tails and unicorns shooting out your butt every day. And when that doesn't happen*, it negates your wedding vows and you can wave the white flag. </div>
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* I'm not an attorney and I'm still waiting for an attorney to verify those are solid grounds for divorce in the State of FL, so this whole thing needs to be taken with a grain of salt because, truthfully, I'm leaning on my own interpretation.*</div><div><br></div><div>To his defense, since I'm waxing legal here, we went thru some major crap. So I can't be mad that the unicorns and rainbows being replaced with all kinds of tragedy were hard to overcome. </div><div><br></div><div>Still. It's annoying that what was joined together, was torn apart. SIJCD happens and you redirect your sails. Blah blah. </div>
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So I won't move past. But I've understood, in a whole new understanding, that I outgrew where I was. Unfortunately that means I leave behind the ones who weren't ready or able or wanting to grow. And I have I be ok with that. </div>
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And I am. </div>
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So I date. </div>
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Keep reaching and you find something, right? </div>
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No. </div>
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Keep reaching and you get cut. </div>
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My dating life debacles arent lonely as I have many close friends going thru this hell with me. It's more fun when you can <b> </b>commiserate over a glass (case) of wine of the dating woes we face. </div>
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I have dated a lot of guys. A lot. I have Cowboy, I have Roloff, I have Hitman, I have Loves His Mama a Lik Too Much For Comfort, I have Bartender, I have Irish, I have Severe Accent, and Man Boobs. </div><div><br></div><div>What I have is a mess of way too many degenerates that should be exciled from the dating pool. </div>
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I've been on some lovely dates with some lovely men. They are true gentlemen and deserve the best, just not the best of me apparently as they fell flat and short. </div><div><br></div><div>I wasn't their cup of tea, they weren't my bottle of champagne. It happens. </div><div><br></div><div>I can talk about everything. To a wall. How it's possible to not have anything in common is beside me. But that's the joys (sucky side) of dating. </div><div><br></div><div>Moving on, tongue in cheek, of course. </div>
<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Was talking to a girlfriend, watching Biggest Loser and this grossly obese man became this hot specimen of a man and we both sat there in silence. Didn't know what she was doing til she texts a mutual friend of her ex and asked this "he's still fat, right?? PLEASE TELL ME HES STILL FAT." </span></div>
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He's still fat </div>
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There was a moment of Thanksgiving. </div>
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Another was upset that a guy she was interested in wasn't being honest with her. She came to the understanding that "when someone shows you who they are, believe them." </div>
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My 2 cents, yes, believe them. Then check Facebook to see how many kids, wives, addictions, they are hiding. People love being bold on fb. </div>
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I hate dating. Hate. Loathe. Is there a bigger word than loathe? I don't want to go thru the minutia and crap and platitudes that go along with it. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm 36 and back at it. Shouldn't there be a fast pass lane for those who've already been there, done that and have the 37 last names to prove it? </div><div><br></div><div>I just want real. </div><div><br></div><div>Lasting. </div><div><br></div><div>I don't need a fairytale, I hate Disney. Just give me special. </div>
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Honestly, I want a husband and a billion screaming kids running around driving us crazy. </div>
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I digress. </div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">meet...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">"Here's my story......wanna chat?" </span></div>
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That happened once before and became quite the beautiful love story. </div><div><br></div><div>Until it didn't. </div>
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We had a nice run. Being the bigger person here. </div>
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I've married for love. That kicked me in the teeth and I lost all kinda confidence, hope, joy, dreams, wha wha whaaaaaaaa. </div>
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<br></div><div>I'm marrying for money this time. </div><div><br></div><div>Kidding. </div><div><br></div>
<div>So <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm back in the dating pool of fun. Haha, spit out my wine on that lie. </span></div>
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I'm back at the dating game. </div><div><br></div><div>For what? If I wanted easy, I'd have gotten it by now. If I wanted fake, coulda had it too. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">If I could get past the sparkling light glaring off Man Boob's too tight polo that was blinding me to everything else but that unfortunate sight, I could have had that. If I wanted a sugar daddy to buy me a rose gold Rolex, dang, the offer was presented. </span></div>
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But this heart of mine, beaten, stomped on, broken and healed is wanting something special. </div>
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And I'm not settling. </div>
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I know what I bring to the table. A whole lotta crazy. I'm self aware, that should account for something. And if someone gets past the first 15 chapters of "Uh, what? No way.." that's been my life, I feel pretty confident that there's a man who will be the person I love, respect, adore and grow old will. We will celebrate our milestone marriages. Maybe not married 50 years together but 50 years combined marriages out of the 2 of us and all our past baggage should at least give some fodder for laughter at what's to come. </div><div><br></div><div>That's me looking at the bright side of this crap. </div>
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Not bitter, not mad, just hopeful and believing. If I've spent so many years being placed #2, #3, #4 behind what he loves most, I can't even begin to image what will happen when I find a guy who makes me first, only second to his relationship with Christ. </div><div><br></div>
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So I'll go out with the Munsons, The Broken, the Bitter, the Obnoxious, the Runners in search of the beautiful. </div>
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Until then, I'll date. (Gag, puke, barf) and hold steady til I find the man who will help me shoulder the load of my crap and will let me help lessen the load of his. </div>
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Onward and upwards my single friends! I'm raising my glass of wine to you! </div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-5202822065457273382015-01-16T19:25:00.001-08:002015-01-16T19:36:22.544-08:00When Satan strikes and bad hair days happenLife ever tried to get you to just stop? Like throw in the towel, I'm down, out, I quit and give up? Stop the madness already, I'm over. It. Someone likened one of my shenanigan tales to Taylor Swift and it made me want to wave the white flag in defeat. <div><br></div><div>Seriously, if your life mimicks Taylor Swift, it may be time to call it a day. </div><div><br></div><div>I couldn't figure out why the past few days Satan has been absolutely relentless in trying to knock my spirit just down and out. Last day I worked before I had two days off, felt good. Had big plans for my days off. Hair, nails, massage. Barely made it in the door before I puked, out of nowhere and 2 days in the bed. But I was all, whoa is me, they aren't 2 days wasted when your life sucks anyways. </div><div><br></div><div>I know, I'm a ball of positive and God's never ending grace and light. </div><div><br></div><div>So yesterday I get out of bed, looking like a tragic train wreck would and took myself to a hair salon down the street. The conversation goes a little like this. </div><div><br></div><div>"Make me pretty." "What do you want done?" "I don't care, make me pretty, I'm tragic so anything would be a bonus."' She looked a little terrified and showed me some color swatches of hair and I told her, perhaps in a growl, "I. Don't. Care."</div><div> </div><div>For 2 hours I didn't talk. Didn't make eye contact with anyone and the poor girl doing my hair was more than scared as she saw a woman on the edge. </div><div><br></div><div>She takes the towel off my head, after my</div><div>Color session and asks how I want her to style my hair. Told her "I don't care what you do to me just make me prettier than when I walked in."</div><div><br></div><div>As I had crawled out of bed before the appointment, I'm quite certain a blind person could have helped me. </div><div><br></div><div>I digress. </div><div><br></div><div>She blows and straightens and turns me around and what do you know, I looked pretty. </div><div><br></div><div>I tipped her an embarrassingly high amount as I was such a joy to work with, I felt she more than earned it. </div><div><br></div><div>So why the sour mood? Only because Satan has been ALL OVER ME LATELY! Couldn't figure out why until I figured out why. </div><div><br></div><div>My aunt challenged me to speak, out loud, for a week, the promises I believed God has for me. The hopes and dreams and all I want, I've been vocalizing it. Every day. Out loud. </div><div><br></div><div>Satan doesn't really like that. </div><div><br></div><div>As evidenced in the total spiritual attack that has surrounded me the past week. Want to know if God has some big plans for your life? Speak them <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">out loud. Just be prepared for a full out battle of the dark one trying to suck you into the negative lies he loves to spew. </span></div><div><br></div><div>So I did what any mature adult does,called my mom, bawling my eyes out. "I hate my life, this speaking blessings isn't worth it because Satan is attacking me."</div><div><br></div><div>Whaa whaa whaa. </div><div><br></div><div>My mom, God bless her. She's never given up on trying to pull me out of the crazy. </div><div><br></div><div>I was watching "Biggest Loser" and one of the contestants freaked out. Bob Harper says to him, (I have a Bob Harper in my life and she goes by Mom) says to him, " you're going to a crazy place." Crazy guy says, "I do that sometimes,". Bob, being the trained millionaire professional he is says this bit of wisdom. "Don't, it doesn't get you anywhere." </div><div><br></div><div>Thanks, Captain Obvious. </div><div><br></div><div>If you had someone in your life that meant nothing and was going nowhere, if you knew they were destined to a life of suckiness, would you step in to tell them otherwise if you didn't believe they were going anywhere? No, probably not. Why waste your breath, right? What if they were going somewhere? And them speaking out the truths of everything you weren't and standing on the firm faith of everything they believed they would have in spite of what you were doing to block them, what would you do if you didn't want them to succeed? Would you sit quietly and let them boast about a husband and kids and success and favor they were speaking as thought they already had them? Or would you throw tomatoes and lies and everything else at them to get them to shut up? </div><div><br></div><div>The past few days I've dodged the lies and fears and doubts and spoiled fruit that has been thrown at me full force and i didn't handle it with much grace. </div><div><br></div><div>I crashed and burned. </div><div><br></div><div>Satan sucks. </div><div><br></div><div>So, I prayed. Louder. Now to be fair, I did it in my car and felt like a complete idiot but I spoke loudly the truths and dreams and hopes and beliefs that I know God has placed on my heart. </div><div><br></div><div>And I powdered my nose, put on my lipstick and went out and showed the day who was boss.</div><div><br></div><div>I don't know why life is so hard sometimes. I don't get why Satan has decided I'm a great target practice. But I can tell you this. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm not giving up. I'm not giving in and I'm not quitting.</div><div><br></div><div>I KNOW the plans God has for ME. That's big! They aren't to harm, to cause tears and a tantrum. They are for something SO. MUCH. BIGGER. </div><div><br></div><div>If Satan wants me to quit now, I can't even begin to imagine what waits for me on the other side of this trial. And I can say that honestly. Not as some pie in the sky hope. I fully believe that. </div><div><br></div><div>It'll be worth it, it'll be beautiful and it'll be more than this tragic trainwreck of a gal could ever imagine. </div><div><br></div><div>Hold steady, God has this. I'm not just saying that. Coming out of the trenches, I believe that! If Satan is attacking you, it's only because he sees the absolute beautiful God has for you and he's terrified. </div><div><br></div><div>Satan shaking makes me laugh. God's promises make me smile. I know who wins this battle and for that, I'll keep dodging rotten fruit. Because at the end, I know the plans God has for me are to prosper me and give me a bright future. Bright! Not sucky. </div><div><br></div><div>Hold steady. Satan doesn't like that, God really appreciates it. 💙</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpqlE56tCiL3F59YkRATLGyMWz_1GE1uSGJF5Gkt05BN-MXqp87VAui_mHDPo2LaM86QrFIAbkYXR8cbWFxNQGpdoywMm4Ki0Y-KrAKb2vlP8wHzLsNxyyi8phCxYWWLHRurfCSJH6v1E/s640/blogger-image--1368406241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpqlE56tCiL3F59YkRATLGyMWz_1GE1uSGJF5Gkt05BN-MXqp87VAui_mHDPo2LaM86QrFIAbkYXR8cbWFxNQGpdoywMm4Ki0Y-KrAKb2vlP8wHzLsNxyyi8phCxYWWLHRurfCSJH6v1E/s640/blogger-image--1368406241.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-76589124558066105582015-01-09T19:22:00.001-08:002015-01-09T19:56:48.220-08:00Sad songs and movies about cancer<span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br></span>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Yesterday I was having a "what am I doing with my life" moment. Haven't had one of those for awhile, </span><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">surprising considering how neurotic I am, I know. I want a change, I don't know what exactly, but I was annoyed that I didn't know how to change my life. I sat and thought of a million things I want and completely unsure of the first step to take. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Then my phone rang. And guess what. World turned completely upside down. Effective immediately, complete and total change. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">I hate change. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br></span></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Hate. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br></span></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Seriously. I hate change. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">I wanted change. Was mad I didn't know where to start to intiate change and bam, change. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Be careful what you wish for and blah blah blah. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">So I've spent the past 24 hours thinking about this change, analyzing every angle of this change and going between 100 emotions and feelings about it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Life changes, you'd think, me of all people, would have understood that by now...</span></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br></span></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Shocking I'm sure but sometimes I'm not so quick. </span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Yesterday, unsure of what I'm feeling and just obviously looking for a reason to hate life, I watched the "Fault in Our Stars." Brilliant for someone who is on the edge, constantly, of losing her mind. Sad, romantic movie about young adults who fall in love when they both are dying of cancer. </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><font face="proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Yea, I know. </span></font></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">The young heroine of the movie says at one point that this isn't the life she wanted. </span><br>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I don't want this life I've got either. Funny thing is, doesn't matter. So much you can't control, so much is handed or taken from you without your consent. </span><br>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I've had more change, more new beginnings, more endings, more goodbyes, more loss than a normal 36 year old should have. Blah blah, story is old by this point, I know. I'm not normal so I'm unsure why I'm surprised by this. </span><br>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">So, I go from bawling my eyes out watching this stupidly sad movie to listening to music that makes me equally emotional on a whole other level. </span><br>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">"When life has cut too deep and left you hurting</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">The future you had hoped for is now burning</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">And the dreams you held so tight lost their meaning</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">And you don't if you'll ever find the healing"</span><br>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br>I was thinking a few days ago of everything I want. So many things I desire and have a passion for an absolutely no idea how I'm ever going to get there. </span><div><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br></span></div><div><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">No idea. Seriously, lost and felt like I should just give up at life. </span></div><div><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br></span></div><div><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I know, I know. Don't give up, life is what you make of it, there's no rainbow without the rain. </span></div><div><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br></span></div><div><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Sigh. <br></span>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"></span>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">"You're gonna make it<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">You're gonna make it</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">And the night can only last for so long</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">
Whatever you're facing<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">If your heart is breaking<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">There's a promise for the ones who just hold on</div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;">Lift up your eyes and see</div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">The sun is rising" </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Valid. Sun rises. Every new day is a fresh start, new beginning, fill in the blank with your favorite inspirational Pinterest quote. </div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">"Every high and every low you're gonna go through<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">You don't have to be afraid I am with you <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">In the moments you're so weak you feel like stopping<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">Let the hope you have light the road you're walking"</div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">I don't know that I'm afraid. </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">Haha, kidding, I'm terrified. Of being alone for the rest of my life when I want so badly to share this crazy with someone else. Of never having kids I can screw up and love. Of never being all the my mind screams at me that I am. </div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<br></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">"You're gonna make it<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">You're gonna make it</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">The night can only last for so long</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
Whatever you're facing<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">If your heart is breaking<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">There's a promise for the ones who just hold on"</div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">There's a promise. There are a million promises. I know them. I read them. When I don't want to remember them, I have people in my life that remind me. I had a friend tell me yesterday, "this isn't a surprise for God, He has plans to prosper you." My mom tells me, "What He opens no one can shut." Does that include my mouth? Because I have been very vocal lately of how tired and exhausted I am with the treadmill of life I find myself on because I KNOW that I've held on and every so often I get thrown off the back just like it does more often than not when I'm on an actual treadmill. </div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<br></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">"And even when you can't imagine how<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">You're ever gonna find your way out<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">Even when you're drabbling in your doubt<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">Just look beyond the clouds"</div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">So picture this, I've given up on life, I'm wallowing in the midst of my blahness and a friend texts me. </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">They asked me for prayer about something. </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">You know how sometimes you're just having a moment and thinking about how much your life sucks and then reality smacks you in the face? Like a very special friend asking you to pray about something? </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">Humbled. </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">If I were hopeless, if I were a complete and total mess, if this dear friend didn't trust the very heart of who I am, they wouldn't have trusted me to pray for them. That's a very special thing. But the reason they brought this specific need to me was, because of everything I had been thru, they knew that I would know how best to pray. </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">Whoa. Let me say it again. <i>Because of everything I had been through, they knew I would know how best to pray. </i></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">And I did. Immediately my heart was flooded for prayers and hopes and promises for this beautiful person as the tears streamed down my face for a different reason entirely than why I'd been such a wreck for the past few days. (Months?) </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">"The sun is rising</div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<br></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
Whatever you're facing<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">If your heart is breaking<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">There's a promise for the ones who just hold on<br style="box-sizing: border-box;">Lift up your eyes and see</div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">The sun is rising" </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">Light. Bulb. Moment. </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">Sometimes it's not about my life making sense where I'm at <i>right now</i>. Sometimes it's about remembering that life is about a whole lot more than the one moment I'm stuck in. </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">My life, your life, is about the moments you trust when you're tired, you believe when you're exhausted and you hope when you're lost. </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">And sometimes, if you're incredibly blessed, you'll have someone trust you enough to pray and you'll know exactly the words to say. </div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;">So, there's that..</div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrIt6VLhyphenhyphenui75cynHUjSDDDbYlg2hoVnxLrnbQP1YJ5V2p-Yj0EK9hxMS9sh1I1p4324dPdCgsHrgLpJrfw-EGK3SZKtcpdfJNRJy_Jy58HuCeYOpK8UsoeZc8RE00qJLM33iEhQy2pb5/s640/blogger-image--1425789429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrIt6VLhyphenhyphenui75cynHUjSDDDbYlg2hoVnxLrnbQP1YJ5V2p-Yj0EK9hxMS9sh1I1p4324dPdCgsHrgLpJrfw-EGK3SZKtcpdfJNRJy_Jy58HuCeYOpK8UsoeZc8RE00qJLM33iEhQy2pb5/s640/blogger-image--1425789429.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><br></div><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"></span><!--EndFragment--></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-60059672178073039882015-01-03T11:05:00.000-08:002015-01-03T20:01:40.942-08:00Adventures in Dating at 36- Part I- The cast of losers.In the hope of protecting the innocently naïve guys who go out with me, the names they will be referenced as, are not in fact, their names.<br>
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Part of my New Year's "Bucket List" was to accept a date from any man that asks me out in an effort to not sway myself with my snap judgments of too tall, short, hairy, bald, annoying, blah blah. "Everyone deserves a chance and you never know who you'll meet" notions quickly fell by the wayside and common sense prevailed. Not every guy that asks me out will be met with an excited answer of yes. <br>
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Met a guy on the new dating app a few months ago. Pictures pop up of people around you who are available. Swipe left if you're not interested, swipe right if you are. A mutual swiping of rights gets a connection and you can start talking. <br>
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There are some interesting people on there. Saw some guys I knew, including my ex husband which was just a freakin blast. Do you swipe left out of principle? Do you swipe right in an effort to extend an olive branch? What do you do if you swipe right and there's no connection because he swiped left? What do you do then? Do what I do, delete your account and the app, drink some wine, put sad music on repeat and have your best friend tell you how stupid he is. Not the least bit dramatic. <br>
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Before that swiping breakdown, I started talking to a few different guys. Exchanged numbers with some and we started texting each other. <br>
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This is now known as dating purgatory. Not actual hell yet because you haven't been on a date but close enough that you can already feel the fire and know how much the next step is going to suck. <br>
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It's a fun game you get to play of being the right amount of sarcasm meets sweet, loving who you are but balance with a nice dose of self depreciating humor to keep you humble, witty but charming, driven but casual, competitive but not too sporty, independent but not too hard nosed about it. Mostly via text. Occasional phone call, usually not. It's fun getting to know someone based simply on characters and emojis. WHY DO GUYS OVER 35 USE EMOJIS???<br>
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I've found and discovered that most guys have this weird thing where they think they are so. much. better, more, attractive, funny, successful. than. they. actually. are. It's weird. <br>
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I spend hours worrying about the right outfit, hair, makeup, shoes and for what?<br>
<br>
Because this is what is in the minds, and mouths, of the past few guys I've gone out with lately, and I've taken create reign to supply the dialogue<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">..</span></div><div>
<br>
<em>"Even though I told her differently, I'm really not over my ex and have no idea how to properly communicate that. Maybe I'll make her feel really stupid, then get mad when she calls me out on being a jerk and I'll turn it around and make her feel guilty for getting upset with me. If that doesn't work, I'll tell her story after story of the masses of woman who have tried to get me to date them, marry them or blah blah. Chicks dig that."</em> <strong>No, chicks don't.</strong> <em> </em>Dig <strong><em>that!</em></strong><br>
<br>
<em>"I don't want her to realize that I have serious body issues and am completely uncomfortable in my own skin, so I'll confuse her with stories and conversations about how much money I spend on clothes and how often I work out. I'll also order a small protein only appetizer and then stare longingly at the chicken on her salad and wait for her to finally take the napkin from her lap and indicate she is finished eating before I absolutely devour what is left. Then I'll go back to telling her stories of how much I lift and how much cardio I do. Chicks dig that, right?"</em> <strong>This gal digs a man who is comfortable in his own skin.</strong> <br>
<br>
<em>"I 'm almost certain I'm gay but I'm confused and I'm manly and fish and hunt and talk about sports and grunt a lot so maybe I won't have to tell her. I'll talk to her for weeks, go to dinner and show her an incredible time and make her laugh and feel like $1 million bucks. Telling her via text that I'm possibly attracted to men is probably the best way to do it, since I just stopped talking to her for weeks because I wasn't sure how to tell her. Maybe she'll figure out that that is how I know so much about her clothes and shoes and accessories, not from my exwife like I originally told her. Chicks are open minded now, right?"</em> <strong>This chick is googling "becoming a nun vs owning cats"</strong><br>
<br>
<em>"I really can't stand my own kids and want to make sure it's known how much I don't want to have anymore, immediately, hmmm...I know, I'll tell her as soon as we sit down for dinner about my vasectomy and then we can figure out which 5 cheeses to go with dinner. Chicks appreciate honesty, right?"</em> <strong>Sure do, let me tell you about my labor stories.</strong><em> </em></div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<em>"Weird, I haven't been able to get a response after a 5 minute phone conversation 2 months ago? She must be playing hard to get, challenge accepted. I'll text her every. single. day. for the next 2 months and include links to youtube music videos of songs that I really want her to listen to and understand, I wanted to share in person and hope I don't come off creepy. Girls like attention right? I'll be super passive aggressive and hope that my commitment to showing her how determined I am to talk to her will speak well to how committed I would be to the relationship. And not creepy. Just really intrigued. Really. A lot of woman want me."</em> <strong> BLOCKED</strong><br>
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36, dating again. *shakes hands to the heavens and screams...* "WWWWHHHHYYYYYYY MMMEEEEEEEEEEE???????????"<br>
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Valid points for dating. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<ul>
<li>Don't settle. </li>
<li>Don't stress. </li>
<li>Everyone is crazy, it's not a competition. </li>
<li>Most everyone is carrying or dragging, emotional baggage, find one with some that compliments yours. </li>
<li>Don't be the sane one on the relationship. You know your level of crazy and how to manage it, no one wants to take on someone else's as well. </li>
<li>If there is "baby mama drama" mentioned in the first 10 mins, run. </li>
<li>If they have an unhealthy need to gain their mother's approval, run fast. </li>
<li>If they mention rehab more than a few times, consider running in a non judgy way. </li>
<li>If they joke they are an alcoholic but they drink copious amounts of alcohol everyday, maybe just trade in high heels for running shoes. </li>
</ul>
<br>
<div>
2015 won't be boring. Can almost guarantee that. <br>
<br>
<br>
<br></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-79163291707592392632015-01-01T18:41:00.001-08:002015-01-01T18:41:31.287-08:00Divorce and Bucket list for 2015I kicked 2014 to the wayside with friends, champagne and music. <div><br></div><div>Was feeling really motivated to get 2015 headed in a new direction, fresh start, new beginnings blah blah blah. </div><div><br></div><div>Then I realized I'll be getting divorced in 2015 and had a slight (major) meltdown. </div><div><br></div><div>Not exactly what I was wanting on my "take over the world in 2015" agenda. </div><div><br></div><div>So, this year will suck at some point for some time BUT that doesn't mean it's going to be an awful year. </div><div><br></div><div>As well as divorcing my husband I'm divorcing some other stuff. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm breaking up with self doubt and the negative reel of lies that plays over and over in my mind. I'm going to start voicing things I believe and know I deserve and will have. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm kicking out the people that I have to chase to be in my life and letting go of the ones who don't want to be in it. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm losing the quit in me. I'm tired of not following thru with things I want to do. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm saying a final goodbye to the worry, anxiety and sadness I've held on for too many years. They've all overstayed their welcome. </div><div><br></div><div>My 2015 Bucket List;</div><div><br></div><div>1. Finish my book</div><div>2. Start my book</div><div>3. Leave the people I meet feeling better or more appreciated because I'm going to start being kinder, more gracious and giving. </div><div>4. Go skiing </div><div>5. Take a solo vacation somewhere fabulous because I can. </div><div>6. I'm going to learn how to play guitar </div><div>7. I'm going to go on a date with every man who asks me. Munson, handsome, tall, short. I'm not going to prejudge. </div><div>8. I'm going to love myself. I'm pretty fab and it's time I get reacquainted with this new me I've spent the past year becoming </div><div>9. I'm going to start smiling and talking to more people I see out and about. So many lonely people, I'm going to try to change that. </div><div>10. Buy the shoes that are calling my name. </div><div><br></div><div>2014 sucked a lot of the time. I'm glad to see it gone. 2015 is going to have trials and bumps but I also know it will be filled with new adventures, people, opportunity and fulfilled dreams. </div><div><br></div><div>I survived the past 2 years. I'm looking forward to thriving, rocking and making things happen in the new year, with a fresh start. In my fancy shoes. Always in my fancy shoes. </div><div><br></div><div>2015- let's see what you've got for me! </div><div><br></div><div>I'm ready to make it fabulously outrageous! Heels on, ready to get this life rolling in the right direction! </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpX0O0f2d-YyvZLwU3eIH6ZuV8n3TKh4UvwLB4kaU6Bjv-EL99FobE69qc_vHDJnscO0aIS7Ufi0SD1rvPHH3XL7vhFRTdT_xt3A0_JiDjTWOwCJOw4XrE178m8D4YZjPHjwU2pC7JoD-i/s640/blogger-image--676673411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpX0O0f2d-YyvZLwU3eIH6ZuV8n3TKh4UvwLB4kaU6Bjv-EL99FobE69qc_vHDJnscO0aIS7Ufi0SD1rvPHH3XL7vhFRTdT_xt3A0_JiDjTWOwCJOw4XrE178m8D4YZjPHjwU2pC7JoD-i/s640/blogger-image--676673411.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-64960124951109748412014-12-30T16:53:00.001-08:002014-12-30T18:41:53.532-08:00Abortion at 20 weeksIt's been a long time since I've gotten on a soap box about anything. <div><br></div><div>On it now. </div><div><br></div><div>There's a lot that comes across my fb newsfeed that makes me angry but I just scroll past. Everyone's entitled to their opinion on things and not much makes me furious. </div><div><br></div><div>This made me completely enraged. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNwLUDWMk5_4qQDUUJtBBGopcNJnU0DuTs-uBxIgjvmUeHYlFjPEdFCopxGvR4qKx9j4OTBSMWAcoJBHcuPKbaQBrTP7XTMNMJOTu6UncynfuYVIyiBaFmb8W946TuHLT9fBeR6ELh_W8/s640/blogger-image-1342010629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNwLUDWMk5_4qQDUUJtBBGopcNJnU0DuTs-uBxIgjvmUeHYlFjPEdFCopxGvR4qKx9j4OTBSMWAcoJBHcuPKbaQBrTP7XTMNMJOTu6UncynfuYVIyiBaFmb8W946TuHLT9fBeR6ELh_W8/s640/blogger-image-1342010629.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>It was a video of an abortion and the baby is in the sac on a tray, moving and wiggling. I thought for sure it was a misinformed person who had started something that went viral because it was a fully formed baby, moving around. Alive. </div><div><br></div><div>How naive of me. </div><div><br></div><div>The video may not be accurate of abortion but it took me to a place I wish I hadn't gone. </div><div><br></div><div>I googled "how late can I get an abortion" and was appalled at what I saw. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLbwP_mALk9H2CObkNTsmK4He_xirCpAm-mjOYFtXdkXaWXAZCiGABRqCknvGdJkUeYE0fCioE2xiRca4WjcxBTuHrcdAz17iM1QIKLg2m35z8xnaXTErLS9rmFW9gM26j_panSGhpLN2y/s640/blogger-image--1124979214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLbwP_mALk9H2CObkNTsmK4He_xirCpAm-mjOYFtXdkXaWXAZCiGABRqCknvGdJkUeYE0fCioE2xiRca4WjcxBTuHrcdAz17iM1QIKLg2m35z8xnaXTErLS9rmFW9gM26j_panSGhpLN2y/s640/blogger-image--1124979214.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>This website talks you through the 2 day procedure for terminating a 20 week pregnancy. In FL. </div><div><br></div><div>If you were wondering, it takes 2 days to kill a baby at 20 weeks. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm sensitive to this, I concede to that. I held my baby at 18.5 weeks and my second baby at 20 weeks. Both fully formed. Not tissue, not a choice, a baby, a person, a human. </div><div><br></div><div>With 2 perfect hands, 2 perfect feet, 10 fingers, 10 toes, a beautiful face, perfect nose and lips. </div><div><br></div><div>At 20 weeks you can kill a baby. If you have $500 but if you don't, many insurances pay. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiY5Xo-bvxpNAQoGmFmmw8EoyBUfPfXoDKBIYVaCcIS_7Tqj-BfTvmoBK3UhyphenhyphendZC6G0gHTyTfFyFlox8oO_ZEA9dp6MrKVfOqm5_kmHBp86iF1FAUYgpBPwQiPV2KjQoTVfZitR6rBbKjZ/s640/blogger-image-1180289330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiY5Xo-bvxpNAQoGmFmmw8EoyBUfPfXoDKBIYVaCcIS_7Tqj-BfTvmoBK3UhyphenhyphendZC6G0gHTyTfFyFlox8oO_ZEA9dp6MrKVfOqm5_kmHBp86iF1FAUYgpBPwQiPV2KjQoTVfZitR6rBbKjZ/s640/blogger-image-1180289330.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>WHAT??!</div><div><br></div><div>I had to pay over $25,000 for IVF to conceive a baby that insurance paid absolutely nothing for and many insurances will pay for you to murder your baby?</div><div><br></div><div>I have birth certificates for both boys because they were alive. I also have death certificates because they died. Does the person killing their baby get the same?</div><div><br></div><div>WHAT??!</div><div><br></div><div>I will never understand this. If I choose to kill my baby it's because it's my body, my choice. If someone kills me and I'm pregnant they get double homicide. </div><div><br></div><div>Instead of protestors at an abortion clinic, maybe the millions of parents who want a baby should stand outside with $500 to give the mothers choosing to kill their babies in exchange for their life. It would certainly be less expensive than adoption or IVF fees for the desperate parents wanting to raise a baby. </div><div><br></div><div>Stepping off my soap box but I've never been more disgusted than I am now. </div><div><br></div><div>My blog, my feelings, my thoughts. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-57117105041170427882014-12-26T18:09:00.001-08:002014-12-26T18:09:59.268-08:00When Mother's Intuition is Wrong<div>It's a raw read. My article for Still Standing for Dec </div><div><br></div><a href="http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/12/mothers-intuition-wrong/?utm_source=feedblitz&utm_medium=FeedBlitzRss&utm_campaign=stillstandingmagazine">http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/12/mothers-intuition-wrong/?utm_source=feedblitz&utm_medium=FeedBlitzRss&utm_campaign=stillstandingmagazine</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-31242122852717267792014-12-26T18:08:00.001-08:002014-12-26T18:10:35.645-08:00Empty arms at Christmas<div>My article for Still Standing magazine for Dec </div><div><br></div><div><a href="http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/12/empty-arms-christmas/?utm_source=feedblitz&utm_medium=FeedBlitzRss&utm_campaign=stillstandingmagazine">http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/12/empty-arms-christmas/?utm_source=feedblitz&utm_medium=FeedBlitzRss&utm_campaign=stillstandingmagazine</a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-82732880088171737142014-12-21T10:20:00.001-08:002014-12-21T10:20:13.437-08:00Suicide- why it's not so shocking to want to end the painI don't consider myself someone who gets wrapped up in the lives and drama of celebrities, maybe because I have enough of my own. But the devastating decision that Robin Williams made to end his life, his pain and his struggle has kind of really rocked my world. Based on the fact that my newsfeed has been nothing but shares and comments and posts about how others feel about this, it's clear this is something that affects everyone in one way or another.<br />
<br />
So many people make flippant comments when they don't understand or agree with something someone else does. I'm guilty. Reading the comments on the news feeds have made me angry and sad enough that I decided to be transparent, once more. <br />
<br />
I have never found myself so desperate and lost that I have considered taking my own life. I say that in a thankful way, not in judgment. I've certainly been told by others how they could never have been as strong as me, how they wouldn't have been able to make it through enough times that I've wondered what other option is there other than getting through it. I joke enough about finding myself in the crazy ward, I guess there's truth in every jest as I can understand what feeling completely crushed by facing tomorrow feels like.<br />
<br />
Music, as I've shared over and over, moves and speaks to me. I am guilty of listening to a song on repeat, ad nauseum. Ask anyone who has spent more than 5 minutes with me. Many times when I couldn't express what I was feeling, someone else validated it through their emotion and lyrics. <br />
<br />
"Angel"<br />
<br />
"Spend all your time waiting, for that second chance<br />
for a break that would make it ok<br />
there's always some reason, to feel not good enough<br />
and it's hard at the end of the day,<br />
I need some distraction<br />
oh beautiful release,<br />
memories seep from my veins,<br />
let me be empty,<br />
and weightless and maybe,<br />
I'll find some peace tonight"<br />
<br />
So many times I wanted to find peace. I was desperate for a break that would make sense of everything that my heart had suffered through. I have been down in a hopelessness and depression I wasn't sure I'd ever find my way out of. Losing a kid will do that. I remember after my divorce and I lost J, I was exhausted with hurting. I know what it feels like to go to sleep with the only thought that waking up would be nothing other than the reality that my babies were gone. I never wanted to kill myself but after waking up to the heaviness and emptiness of facing another day with so much pain, sometimes I wished I'd just never wake up. <br />
<br />
"In the arms of the angel<br />
fly away from here<br />
from this dark cold hotel room<br />
and the endlessness that you fear<br />
you are pulled from the wreckage<br />
of your silent reverie<br />
you're in the arms of the angel<br />
may you find some comfort here"<br />
<br />
Want to talk about uncomfortable and scary? Try sharing your honest heart and emotions. It's not easy. <br />
<br />
I can say that I have never truly lost hope that my life would get better. I've never doubted that. That's how I continue to stand. But sometimes the weight of getting through the pain of the now was more than I knew how to handle. I understand how someone could feel that the decision that ending their pain was the only option. I have always been surrounded by love, encouragement and support. And I still understood that darkness. I've also been surrounded by judgement, anger and criticism of how I was finding healing. But beyond that, I've been faced with judgement, criticism and anger at how I've chosen to live my life or simply because someone didn't want to take the time to get to know me.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm a strong person and it still broke me down.<br />
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I can't even imagine how isolating and hopeless going through life feeling alone and in so much pain could be without the encouragement and support of others. But I wouldn't have had the outpouring of love and support had I not shared my heart, the good, fab and ugly with others who shared their stories of survival with me. AND IT HASNT BEEN EASY! This is not a fun thing, constantly being seen as the person that is still hurting, still sad or still talking about "it." The "it" changes, the pain of going through "it" doesn't but "it" lessens each time I let "it" out.<br />
<br />
"so tired of the straight line<br />
and everywhere you turn<br />
there's vultures and thieves at your back<br />
and the storm keeps on twisting<br />
you keep on building the lies<br />
that you make up for all that you lack<br />
it don't make no difference<br />
escaping one last time<br />
it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh<br />
it's glorious sadness that brings me to my knees."<br />
<br />
I have a beautiful life. I'm happy and content and have a joy that comes from a merciful God. But I also know what the other side of life feels like and I'm not ashamed to admit that. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I was depressed after I lost the boys. I was devastated at one loss after another. Who wouldn't be? Are you stronger because you choose to hide your feelings or are you stronger for sharing your pain and struggle with others? </div>
<div>
<br />
I read an interview today with one of Robin Williams' good friends. He said that Robin Williams was never ok with himself. The only time he was comfortable was when there were at least 2 people in the room because then he had an audience. He was never comfortable with himself.<br />
<br />
I have lost people I love with my whole heart because I chose <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">to share my life and it makes them uncomfortable. I'd never ask or expect someone else to blog or sing or speak or tap dance if it made them uncomfortable but I'd also never judge anyone else for doing that if it brought them happiness. I can't imagine judging someone for doing that if it brought them healing.</span></div>
<div>
<br />
I was on stage this weekend in front of a group where I knew very few people. I shared my heart and it was healing but it was also gut wrenching. It was emotional and it was hard. And I am a firm believer that the more you talk about something, the more you acknowledge pain, hurt, anger, confusion, awkwardness and the things that make you uncomfortable, the less power they have over you.<br />
<br />
I have blogged, I've written, I've talked about what has hurt me. What has brought me pain. I've used self depreciating humor in an effort to take some of the heaviness off of it, not for my benefit, for the benefit of others who don't know how to handle someone who is as honest and transparent with their emotions as me.<br />
<br />
How would you feel if you knew that a smile you gave a stranger made them feel like they weren't invisible? If a kind word or a hug for someone may be the thing that turns them back to wanting to feel and try and keep going? Wouldn't you do it?<br />
<br />
What if your criticism, judgement and anger made someone who was hurting keep everything inside? What if your question of -"Why do you think anyone cares about your blog?" or comment of "Why can't you just get over it and move on?" or "Who does she think she is?" Or or or- made someone go inside with their pain and hurt to a point where they shut down and internalized everything and instead of healing, the pain becomes a cancer that takes over their thoughts? If your words carry so much weight and have the power to make an already hurting person completely shut down, wouldn't you stop?<br />
<br />
My point...everyone is facing something, be kinder than necessary. The emo kid who wears the dark clothes you think is weird? Does it affect you what color their nail polish is? The hurting woman who is crying or upset, wouldn't she benefit more from a hug and a kind word instead of judgement and criticism? The man who is lost and broken, instead of making him feel bad for feeling, wouldn't it be nice if you prayed for him and let him know you cared? The person who you know is trying to be strong, the person who hides behind laughter or drugs or alcohol or food? If you can't love them, at least don't judge them! A lot of hurting people have made bad decisions but a lot of hurting people are trying their best to get through a life that hurts because of someone else's choices or angry words spewed at them.<br />
<br />
Hurting people hurt people. Loving people love other people. Wouldn't you rather be someone that makes someone feel less alone than someone who makes an already hurting person feel more isolated?<br />
<br />
The suicide of Robin Williams wasn't totally shocking as he's been severely depressed for a long time and from what I've read, it was something he'd considered more than anyone should. It's shocking that someone who made everyone who watched him feel more alive was so plagued by self doubt and pain and devastating that someone whose light shined so brightly to make others feel, was never able to appreciate the light of what he added to a very dark world.<br />
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"Suicide is a very permanent choice for a temporary pain." To the person contemplating it, I can only imagine that the pain doesn't feel very temporary. I only hope that this tragedy will take the shame, the judgement and the isolation of being sad away from those already hurting. <br />
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If I could say anything to someone going thru pain, hurt and despair, it would simply be this. Don't give up. It's not cliche, it's not oversimplifying. Your life is precious and worth something so much more than it may feel right now, but God has the power to turn your darkest struggles into something more powerful than the hurt.<br />
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The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is <a href="tel:1-800-273-TALK" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors="true">1-800-273-TALK</a> (8255)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-61468091122661812132014-12-21T10:20:00.000-08:002014-12-21T10:20:01.183-08:00Dear: (you) This blog is for you...mwah<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Decisions, decisions, decisions...<br />
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Its been brought to my attention, snicker snicker, snort, that my blog makes certain people <i>uncomfortable</i>. Ok. They don't <i>appreciate</i> my candor and openness. Some things shouldn't be spoken about, lead alone, acknowledged and put on parade through the rantings of a gal who tends to say too much.<br />
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My bad. Apologies. Yada yada, you get the drift.<br />
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I don't really care. I write from my heart, for my healing and to be there to help others identify that life doesn't always make sense.<br />
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But for those still confused as to how this works, I write a blog about things that are going on in my life and others have 2 options. <br />
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1. Read. </div>
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2. Don't read. </div>
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If you choose option 1 and find you indentify with something, cool. If you choose number 2. And don't read it, then I'd appreciate you not assuming you know what is in it and judge me based on your assumptions. It's out there, pull up a seat, kick back, dive in. You might actually see, for yourself, that I'm not a broken, grieving, attention seeking whore who has everyone in my life fooled as to who the <i>real</i> Melissa is.<br />
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Why do I blog?</div>
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Because I can<br />
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Why do I feel the need to talk so much about crap that happens or good things I'm happy about.</div>
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Because I can.<br />
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Why do I care more about strangers reading my words than I do about the people closest to me?</div>
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I don't. Your insecurities are showing.<br />
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Is my blog about you?</div>
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Maybe. Maybe not.<br />
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How can you know?</div>
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Ask me,<br />
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How can you know if you don't ask me?</div>
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Assume and make haste judgements based on your <i>feelings. And that ends well for everyone! </i><br />
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Is it possible I wrote about you?</div>
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Possibly. Did you piss me off, encourage me, love me, support me, call me an attention whore? If any of those are affirmative, then it's entirely possible you have been content for my blog.<br />
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Let's break it down a little simplier for those having trouble following along.<br />
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So you get a new shirt, you're feeling sassy and sexy in your new outfit and nothing can bring you down, you own and rocked that crap.<br />
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Or, supposed you got a new shirt and you aren't sure if the pattern makes you look fat. Or the cap sleeves make your arms look like ham hocks. <br />
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Then you see a blog or status or comment made regarding a shirt I saw someone wear so your mind goes two places. </div>
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1. Wonder who she might be talking about? Hope she saw me rocking my shirt today. Fabulous! </div>
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Or </div>
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2. How rude. I can't believe she thinks my shirt is ugly. I knew I never should have worn that shirt. Why did I wear it when I knew it made me look fat?<br />
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All I mentioned was seeing a shirt on someone. Its left open to interpretation as to how it's received based on how YOU feel about YOURSELF. Not how I must feel about YOU in YOUR stupid shirt.<br />
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I hate dumbing myself down but I hope I'm making sense.<br />
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If you read something in my blog that you identify with, it's probably because you are facing something that I too am speaking of. If I'm blogging about worry and hope and faith and God, regardless of the circumstances surrounding MY stuff, if it resonates in YOUR heart it's because YOU also must be facing something that has you feeling hopeful, faithful, thankful. Me sharing mine brought out the emotions of what you are feeling in yours. Blog success. Woot!<br />
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On the other hand of the blog. If I write about a controlling, lying, hateful, angry, bitter person I reference and you read on through with no second thoughts, chances are pretty good that you don't have those qualities in your heart. If you can't get through the rest of the blog because you saw it was about a controlling, manipulative person and you immediately stop reading, pick up your phone to call someone to berate and begrudge me for blogging about you....CHANCES ARE GOOD THAT YOU HAVE THOSE TRAITS IN YOUR HEART. <br />
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I can't change that. Truth in every jest. And truth in every tantrum. If you're not mad at me for something I write that isn't about you, congrats, it seems you have a firm grasp on reality. If you pick apart every word, comma and sentence looking for meanings and hidden meanings and cant believe and who would I think I am to be blogging about YOU....congrats darlin' you just recognized something in yourself that you are unhappy with. And when you know better you're supposed to do better. </div>
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So put down the phone, take a deep breath and instead of blasting me for having a blog, do some self reflection and find out why what I say makes you come unglued. Is it true? Change it. It is false? Then it might not be about you. If seeing my name merely attached to a blog is enough to make you curse my name to the heavens, I suggest google. There are tons of good therapists all over the country that will help you work through your issues.<br />
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If you feel my blog paints a nasty view of your reality, change your reality or stop being part of mine. I have to get thru this life the best way I can and blogging is part of that. I don't use this as a tool to hurt others but I have always been open, honest and transparent with the circumstances surrounding my crazy. </div>
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If you have crazy, figure it out. If you stop wasting so much time trying to figure out who I'm talking about, why I feel I'm so important to have a blog or feel like it's stupid, oh my small minded little friend, stop reading and go work on your issues.<br />
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I have worked through mine, I still have a lot to say and if you want to keep reading, welcome. IF you don't, see ya! Mwah!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-7212691707217412242014-12-21T10:19:00.002-08:002014-12-21T10:19:44.464-08:00Broken heart, damaged and brokenLast year I was doing a pretty good job of playing at life. I was involved in enough activities that I stayed busy, I got out of the house. That was success for me.<br />
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My life now is total, pure, complete chaos. I'm working my tail off at a job I love more everyday, with a group of people who encourage, support, laugh and help each other. They praise you for a job well done and they appreciate you. </div>
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I didn't go back to work until I knew I could not just handle a job but succeed at it. And not just succeed at the good days but be able to work through stress and crazy deadlines and grand openings and not just do it but do it so flippin excitedly that I can't stand it.</div>
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Seriously loving where God sent me. </div>
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I could have gone back sooner. I could have cried on anyone with a baby. That'd have been special for everyone. I could have gone back and called in sick every time I had anxiety about leaving the house. Bosses tend to overlook that, don't they? </div>
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Why did I wait to go back until I was ready? Because I wanted to get myself back. I wanted to recognize the person in the mirror again. I prayed about it, because I trusted that better was there when I was able to give the best I had. And I'm here to shout, my better is better than it's ever been. I'm confident in my abilities, I'm excited to learn more, and that I am trusted with opening a new community that I have ALL TO MYSELF, makes me giddy. Slightly. REALLY GIDDY! </div>
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I'm at a crossroads in life. There are always things that are hard. There are always people who will hurt you. There will always be an army of faithful, loving, kind, Christian, friends and family who will take time out of their day, their stress, their lives, to stop and pray for someone they care for. That is so powerful! </div>
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Life is changing. I have become a healthier, stronger, more caring, more open, more me, me, than I've ever been in my life. Where has this road of loss brought me to? God brought me to a new place. A BIG place. I was able to share the boy's story and what their life meant to me, in a book. Like a book you can buy from a store. You hear what I'm saying? The book I contributed to is on Amazon. It's on Barnes and Noble. </div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Still-Standing-Because-They-Lived/dp/1312158999/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1401935703&sr=8-1&keywords=still+standing+because+they+lived">http://www.amazon.com/Still-Standing-Because-They-Lived/dp/1312158999/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1401935703&sr=8-1&keywords=still+standing+because+they+lived</a></div>
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That's legit. And cool. And I'm proud! </div>
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I would have preferred to write about shoes but the story that has been on my heart is made available to help others feel less alone, to give them hope. My desire in being transparent in my loss and my grief was that no one should ever have to feel alone when they are mothers and father's like me, who are wanting and willing to help find some good out of heartache. </div>
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SO there's that. And it's not about shoes but look at the front cover! Any guesses which feet are mine??</div>
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Life is hard. It hardly ever goes according to plan. You have options. Be miserable and sad and lonely and mean because you got the crap end of whatever stick you were holding, or be thankful, thoughtful, joyful and hopeful that life maybe didn't hand you what you wanted, yet, but you still have much to celebrate. </div>
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I'm celebrating. I'm not broken. I'm still hurting sometimes but I'm ok. I'm not sad. Some days things bring me down but I'm filled with joy and it kind of negates the sadness. I have people who hurt me. I pray for them. I have people who love me. I pray extra for them. haha, just kidding. Kind of. </div>
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My life is full. It's so full. It's about to take off into a crazy few months of work and change and newness and I'm ok with newness. God's directing me, I'm not going anywhere that He hasn't given me the nudging to go and I am excited to see what God will trust me with. I pray I'm obedient in what He asks of me, that I'm humble in what I'm blessed with and that I'm ready to see what this next chapter of the crazy has in store!!</div>
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Broken hearted, damaged and broken....I'm glad that I have to look *back* to see how far I've come and to look into the mirror, and my future, and see joy, confidence and peace smiling back at me. </div>
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God's up to something. I love when God is up to something!</div>
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Blessed because I have a life meant to live and I'm making every moment count. DO the same friends, it makes for a happier heart! </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-23176946197472193462014-12-21T10:19:00.001-08:002014-12-21T10:19:31.049-08:00Falling up stairs and one hot messI'm not sure what it is about me that makes me such a hot mess. <br />
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Could be that I'm running in a 1000 different directions, with 1000 different projects going on and 1000 different thoughts running through my head all the time.<br />
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Or could be that I'm just one of those people who has stupid things happen to them. All. The. Time.<br />
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I get home from working a long day, on a high because I'm feeling so accomplished and excited and full of confidence and then I fall up the stairs. But not just like a dainty trip, I face plant. And I scatter 2 laptops, a purse, a bag full of binders and an armload full of papers. <br />
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So I do what I do best, I laugh and then cry and then laugh again.<br />
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My emotions are brimming, always so close to the surface that it's hard to know when they are going to spill over. UK winning so many exciting games, singing My Old KY Home with friends and family, I'm crying. Seeing an old man at the store buying a bottle of wine and a single serving of frozen dinner, I'm crying and wanting to invite him to dinner so that he doesn't have to eat alone.<br />
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I have a big heart. That's not being said in a braggadocios way, it's just a fact. I also wear that big ole heart on my sleeve so you don't often have to guess where you stand with me or what I'm feeling. I would never survive in a poker game.<br />
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I have stupid things happen, probably not more often than other people, I just tell on myself more. I don't hurt more than the next person, I just don't try to hide it. I don't have anymore problems than the crazy neighbor next door but I don't run from them. I'm pretty much an open book.<br />
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And some appreciate that about me. Others can't stand it about me. The ones who appreciate it are typically the ones who are happy, settled and have the emotional capabilities of seeing and loving others thru the good, praying them thru the hurt and celebrating the victories. The others. Well blah. They are typically the ones calling me selfish, spoiled, victim, crazy, too much of this, not enough of that all rolled up into someone that makes them uncomfortable. <br />
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I've spent a lot of time trying to digest what I've been facing here lately. Listening to the voices that speak good, the ones that speak not good. The things that happen that I have worked for, the blessings that have come my way that I don't deserve. I've spent time in prayer seeking answers and I've asked others, who I know, trust and believe that they seek God for wisdom, to talk me through some crap. And they have.<br />
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So here is what I've decided.<br />
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1. If my life makes you uncomfortable, it's not really my problem. If you don't like that I'm outgoing, stubborn, open and honest, then you have 2 options. Don't be part of my life or stop looking into my life from the outside. I don't need toxic people surrounding me.<br />
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2. I'm not everyone's cup of tea. And I'm ok with that. If you want to see the good in me, cool. If you don't, then leave me be. I don't expect everyone to be my cheerleader but I also don't need, deserve or want the advice of those whose lives are less than ideal suggesting I need to live a different way. I'm quite happy with how I'm living. <br />
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3. If you have a problem with the way I've lived my life this past year, get over it. It was my life to live, I figured it out, I got through it and I'm happier and more content and confident in who I am than I've been in a long time.<br />
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4. If you need a punching bag to get out all the aggression, bitterness and resentment out of you so that you can stop being so miserable, visit a gym. I'm no longer available for your rants.<br />
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5. Stop judging others. Just stop. For the love! Stop judging people. If you havent walked in my shoes, if you haven't faced what I'm facing, if you haven't opened your life up to be used in a way you've never been used and had more peace than you've ever known, it's ok. Everyone is facing something, it'd be easier if we could work thru it without the judgement of others. I'm not judging you or asking you to live my life. Im not even asking you to help me thru it or appreciate where I've gotten. I'm asking that you leave me alone to live mine. If you feel guilty because you recognize something in this, then examine yourself. If you don't, then it's probably not about you.<br />
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6. I need, want and love the people I have in my life! The ones I can lean on who encourage, love and lift me up. Who I can ask to pray for something heavy and I know they pray. I can share something great that has happened and they jump up and down with me. I can give a praise report and get good tidings back. Because I'm dealing with people who are real, loving and giving. Who aren't scared by my openness, aren't infuriated with my candidness and aren't annoyed that I share my heart.<br />
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I have been given so much in this life. I have lost a lot too but that no longer consumes me. Because I'm letting God fill the holes. Somedays are easier than others but I continue to see the good in people, I continue to love even when it hurts and I continue to hope for the best because I know that God is working. <br />
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The loss hasn't made me bitter. The disappointment in others hasn't made me resentful. The hateful and ugliness that holds other hearts captive have no place near mine. The people that only want to see the bad in me are welcome to keep looking. I'm not going anywhere but up. God has lifted me higher than I ever imagined I'd be.<br />
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What do I have right now?<br />
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I have a husband I love and pray for everyday, kids who are so special to me, parents who have never let me down even though I know I've let them down, family who supports and encouragages me when it would be easier to give up on a hot mess, friends who are amazing and continue to love this walking disaster and a job I am so thankful for every day!<br />
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And so, <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">even in that "Even when it hurts, even when it's hard, even when it all just falls apart, I will run to you, cause I know you are lover of my soul, healer of my scars, you steady my heart."</span></div>
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I don't know what tomorrow holds. I don't know where I'll be, who will be with me or what I'll be doing but I know, swinging from the end of this rope, when I look up, it's God who is holding it and He's not going to let me fall. </div>
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I am blessed. In so many ways. When I fall apart, I'm put back together. When I'm sad I'm comforted and when I'm happy I have so many beautiful people to share that with. That's a good life right there. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-77419150094045658952014-12-21T10:19:00.000-08:002014-12-21T10:19:03.479-08:00I'm barely breathing...<div>
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The past year. What can I say about it that hasn't been said? I feel like I've talked til I have nothing left to say but I feel so full of things left unsaid that I feel like I might explode sometimes.</div>
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Last year changed me. I've spent a lot of time examining the changes, defending them, embracing them and acknowledging them. </div>
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You can't go through something big and not come out different. But you have a choice in what you allow things to make you into. For awhile I let myself be sad, miserable, lost, lonely, confused. But I didn't stay there. I chose to talk, publicly sometimes, about things that are uncomfortable. I've learned that rarely do big changes come until you make yourself uncomfortable and examine all the parts that have made you who you are. </div>
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My intentions for blogging have been questioned. I looked inside to see why I chose to make my struggle, my hope, my victories, my struggles, so public. If anyone thinks I do this for glory, please. Being vulnerable, showing the ugly side of life isn't something I thought one day would be a brilliant idea that would make me popular. But I've always written, I've had a journal since I could write. And recently I was questioned, kind of insultingly, why didn't I "just journal?" Why do I choose to broadcast my thoughts?</div>
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That question bothered me. I guess because it made me uncomfortable. Do I blog to get pats on the back? Did I agree to share my struggle to a lot of people I don't know through the magazine or this blog or facebook or even face to face to gain admiration? </div>
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Let me just clear this up. I would much rather be writing about shoes. About work. About accessories, stupid things I do and the rantings of a normal 30 something woman who has a lot to say. </div>
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Whether I like where I've found myself or not, the fact is, I'm here. I lost twin boys. After struggling with infertility. And IVF. I've been divorced. I know what it's like to lose babies, I know what it's like to lose children you already know and love and have raised. </div>
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So, why don't I "just journal?"</div>
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Last week I was sitting in church, listening to the pastor start his sermon and he didn't pray before he started. Which I found weird. But then, right before he got into the heart of the sermon, he stopped and prayed. He prayed for the people who would hear the words and message that God had laid on his heart, he prayed that God would speak through him, that God would guide him and give him direction. </div>
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Why doesn't the pastor just preach to a mirror?</div>
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Same reason I don't "just journal."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have perspective and insight on things I wish I knew nothing about. Trust that. But here I am. And I pray before I blog that if God has something that He wants to be shared that He would be heard through me and I'd be a willing and able vessel for someone else who may be struggling with what I'm going through. I'm not constantly reliving the worst month of my life. If anything, the only time I look back, is to realize how far I've come. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
People choose to go to church to hear what God has laid on the pastor's heart to share with his congregation. And I trust that he is true and sincere in his prayer that God speaks through him adequately for what God has laid on his heart. My prayers and intentions are sincere as well. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, here I am. And here my blog is. For those who want to read it, read. For those who don't, you don't have to. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Life lately has been really complicated. I have been busy with work and it's going great. I feel capable and confident and excited and sometimes giddy with the opportunity that God has opened up to me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And there's a whole nother side of me that is dealing with a lot of crap as I'm rejoicing in the fabulousness that is my job. If I didn't say it made me feel bipolar at times I'd be lying. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I heard Lifehouses "Broken" on the way home tonight and it just screamed at me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><i>"The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight.</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>Maybe it can stop tomorrow, from stealing all my time. </i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>I am here still waiting, though I still have my doubts,</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out."</i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Losing Tucker and Fletcher changed me. Last year was a test in survival, with no handbook. I did things wrong, I did things right. I cried when I needed to, I talked when I needed to and I moved forward, step by step, because I gave myself the time to heal. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tonight I saw someone I know but only barely. She grabbed my hand and she looked uncomfortable and she just flat out asked me, "What's going on with you?" I said the typical, canned answer that I've gotten really good at spewing out, working hard and doing well. And she stopped me and said, "no what's going on. You lost twins. Are you ok? I wasn't going to say anything to you and I haven't before now because it's nothing that anyone talks about but I need to know, are you doing ok? What happened?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Dang. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><i>"I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing. </i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>With a broken heart, that's still beating.</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>In the pain, there is healing</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>In your name, I find meaning</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>So I'm holdin' on, I'm holding on, I'm holding on, </i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>I'm barely holdin' on to you"</i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I can't even tell you how much I appreciated her asking me that. She made herself very uncomfortable in asking me and I opened my heart to her. I told her that it was the hardest thing I've ever gotten through. She said, "but you lost them separately right? So that was 2 separate losses for you? How did you get through a loss that great? Because you have. I can see that you have and that you're doing really ok." I wanted to kiss this lady. She said, "I understand some of what you went through and I have seen you over the past year, and you look different. I can see you're doing really good. I can tell that you're healing and happy. After such a huge loss, you've become ok and I can tell that you are in a better place than I've seen you in a long time. " She was validating every question that I have been asking myself for so long. Did I take too long to move on? Did I over complicate losing 2 boys? Should I have been able to move forward faster than I did? </div>
<div>
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>"The broken locks were a warning, you got inside my head</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead.</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>I still see your reflection, inside of my eyes.</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>That are still looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life."</i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I tried to keep things in. I've really tried to be guarded in what I share and it seems the more guarded I want to be, the more my heart opens up and I share. But it's ok. It took her a year to ask me what she wanted to ask me a long time ago, and that was simply, are you ok? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After loss. After heartache greater than anything I ever though I could survive, after struggle after struggle, she wanted to know if I was ok. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><i>"I'm hanging on another day, just to see what you will throw my way.</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>And I'm hanging on to the words you say, You said that I will be ok."</i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am ok. I realized, talking to her, that I don't have to convince anyone of the changes that have taken place in my life. In my heart. I haven't faked anything, I haven't blown anything out of proportion, I haven't monopolized on a bad thing to make myself look better. I have shown my hand. I have worn my heart on my sleeve. I have cried, I have laughed, I have loved and I've lost. And I'm still holding on. I don't have to convince anyone of what is true. That I'm ok. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><i>"The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone,</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>I may have lost my way now, having forgot my way home."</i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For awhile I felt really lost. I wasn't sure I'd ever navigate my way out of the pain I was in last year. But I did. And I'm proud. I write for a magazine called "Still Standing." And I am. I have fallen on my face, I've tripped up, I've been broken. But I'm here. Still Standing. With a beating heart that beats through the pain, knowing that there is healing. I wasn't content with simply just being anymore and after their birthdays I found a freedom I wasn't sure I'd ever feel again and I have spent the past 5 months being grateful, hopeful and looking for meaning in how I live. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Another friend grabbed my hand as I was leaving and gave me a hug. He always makes my heart smile because he shares his big heart and he wrapped me up in a big hug and whispered in my ear how beautiful it was to see my smile again. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He pulled away and had tears in his eyes. He saw my struggle the past year, recently, knowing it's something that doesn't just go away but something I work on everyday, to keep moving forward, losing the boys and everything else that followed that. But he wanted me to know, he sees that I am ok. He noticed that my smile was back and that I was doing better than ok. And that he, and so many others, are sharing my healing, my journey and loving me through things, even when it hurts, when it's uncomfortable and hard. Loving people when it's easy is easy. Loving people when they are hurting is a special gift that not a lot of people are comfortable giving. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I am ok. My smile is back, my heart is healing and I'll continue to share what God places on my heart and pray that as long as He gives me something to say, I'll continue to say it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tucker and Fletcher will forever be part of me. Some days hurt worse than others. Mother's Day probably won't be the happiest of days for me. But I'll get thru it, same way I've gotten thru the past 16 months. Praying, hoping, believing and leaning on those who love and support me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Blessed because I am still holding on, I'm still breathing and I'm ok. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583665682890837403.post-86601901731129683262014-12-21T10:18:00.001-08:002014-12-21T10:18:52.240-08:00Jumping off a cliff, adoption or surrogacy? Can I have an option Dplease...<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIzS8jZhl9CrQfzvv6ZpUcdmVv4kTbd3LjfYxa7iPadkIlI95yyu7URhjtptDV80hOQzSA71pjtOrXNs-29fWIt5oQWywLjxmCO1hdvrG9MPxlDbcTA-RFiJ3ko7qICvQ7lmPAm9LdLEq/s640/blogger-image--1359365102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIzS8jZhl9CrQfzvv6ZpUcdmVv4kTbd3LjfYxa7iPadkIlI95yyu7URhjtptDV80hOQzSA71pjtOrXNs-29fWIt5oQWywLjxmCO1hdvrG9MPxlDbcTA-RFiJ3ko7qICvQ7lmPAm9LdLEq/s640/blogger-image--1359365102.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The year of “firsts” is over! I made it through the month of December,
their birthdays, the first Christmas season without them. I made it through. Do I get a cookie or a coin or something to
mark it? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I made it, why am I still crying? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because grief sucks, because learning to live your life
without your babies isn’t something that goes away even though you made it
through a big milestone, because now,
more than ever, I’m so desperate to hold my baby, to look at something we
created and know that I’ll be able to hold them, rock them, love them, here and
now, not from afar like I hold my babies now, makes me want to scream. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m still crying because I’m still hurting. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that sucks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I read recently that a broken heart is a lot like having
broken ribs. To the world they don’t see
anything but to the person with the broken heart, it hurts every time you breathe.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s pretty accurate.
I got through the first year. Now
I’m in the second. I’m looking at
toddlers wondering what Tucker would look like.
I see a blonde boy trying to walk around and wonder if Fletcher would be
all over the place by now. I hear kids
calling in their kid voices to their mom and dads and wonder if those parents
have any idea how blessed and lucky they are to have a precious baby calling
her Mommy? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The panic attacks had settled down lately and I smugly
thought, another hurdle I’m past.
Nope. Wrong again. Now the panic attacks really come out of
nowhere and make no sense. Driving home
last night after a great weekend, I thought of our frozen embryos, only a few
miles down the road, where they’ve been for over a year now and I’ve never
given much thought to them. I mean, why
would I? But last night, I was desperate
to get them, our frozies. Why would
someone be desperate to get to a building housing frozen embryos? Because to this woman, it’s the closest thing
I have to my babies. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Am I crazy? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe. I don’t know
that I’m the best judge of character right now for normal vs abnormal. Last week I was sitting in a gym watching a
basketball game and I saw the cutest little baby asleep on her mom’s lap. I wanted to go and take the baby. I wanted to know what it felt like to hold a
baby that was mine, and love it and rock it to sleep and change it and feed
it. I wanted to hold that baby and never
let it go. I don’t think that makes me
crazy. Had I acted on it, probably would
point more towards absolutely nuts and I’d be figuring out how to write this in
a straight jacket. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have frozen embryos waiting. And I feel like the worst kind of mom because
I’m absolutely, unequivocally terrified for them to come anywhere near me right
now. I loved being pregnant. And it was an awful pregnancy, I was sick the
entire time. My body was all sorts of
screwed up from IVF that had gone bad but I was pregnant. I didn’t care how many times I threw up. I didn’t care how swollen my ovaries
were. I was carrying our baby boys and I
loved it. I want to be pregnant more
than anything. I want to hold our babies
inside me. I want to protect them and grow them and feel them and love them
every step of their lives. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I am terrified.
What if my body fails again? What
if what happened before happens again?
Which is worse? Going through
that again or not trying once more? How
do you make the decision to step off that cliff? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I went through IVF I read as many success stories as I
could find. I read what they did, what
they ate, studied the schedules and rituals of woman who had gone before me and
found success. So I ate pineapple, I ate
Chinese food, I saw an acupuncturist weekly, I had weekly massages. I prayed more than I’ve prayed before that if
this was God’s will for us that He would prepare my body and my heart for what
we were facing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now we’re facing more decisions. More options.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been looking into adoption. I hear about people I know adopting
babies. Just getting a call one day and
a mom wanting them to adopt her baby.
How does that happen? Do I have
to take out a billboard telling everyone that here is a mother who wants
nothing more than to love a baby and raise it in a loving, chaotic, home filled
with laughter and music and fun and love?
Is there a wait list for that phone call? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve looked into surrogacy.
It’s expensive. Like so
ridiculously expensive if you go through a surrogacy agency. Why wouldn’t it be? You are paying a stranger to carry the most
valuable thing in the world! I’ve been
reading stories of mothers carrying their son or daughter’s baby for them. Don’t think the thought didn’t cross my
mind. Don’t think I didn’t do a mental
scroll through my contacts of who might be a good match. Can you imagine that text? “Hey, got something I want to chat
about. Happy hour soon?” Do you hold open interviews to see who would
be willing, who would be the best fit to carry the thing you want more than
anything else? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want a baby. I want
a lot of babies. I want a big family and
I want to be called Momma. I want a baby
to cry for me. I want to walk into a
room and have a blonde haired, or black haired, or bald baby, crawl, run, cry
for me. His Mama. I want a little girl to fall asleep on me,
her Mom. I want to think about the
future knowing that I have all I need.
Not with a constant ache and desire for something that grows every
single day, this longing that doesn’t not just go away but continues to get
bigger and bigger. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did myself an injustice thinking that I had done something
big. Getting through the first year
without my boys served me well if only to prove that life does go on and I was
stronger than I sometimes wanted to be.
And I made it through. I know
what it feels like to lie awake in bed, night after night, not able to sleep
because of the questions of how, when, why, and wonderings about the in’s and
outs of me becoming a mom again. I
would give everything I have to know what it feels like to not be able to sleep
because I’m sitting in a rocking chair, watching my child sleep, crying tears
of thankfulness for finally having the one thing I have wanted more than anything
else in my life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To have a baby, that is ours, mine and Jason’s, that I can
hold. That I can kiss, that I can love,
close enough to touch. To have part of my heart walking around, that
I can hold, instead of carrying only in my heart and dreams. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where’s that happy ending?
What’s a gal gotta due to become a mom again? <o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16931038446663391080noreply@blogger.com3