I want to write.
I want to pour these feelings inside of me out all over everything. Tag your eyes with the graffiti that is my hurried scrawling.
I want to share my joy. My exuberance. My happy, happy, joy, joy moments. (Where the hell did Ren & Stimpy go anyways?)
I want to breathe the pure power of my thoughts into everything. Make others feel like they could carry the world and then some, too. I feel like a dragon. The power to breathe fire and destroy everything but instead choosing to spread my wings and glide off into the sunset. (Thank you for that beautiful sunset, K. :) You made my day.)
I want my words to shake the foundations of everything that you've ever known, to feel like someone grabbed you by the shoulders and sent a vibration through you that quaked your very soul.
I want someone to read my sadness and bawl in frustrated tears at the heartbreak of it all. Then five seconds later, I want to make them laugh so hard they cry again.
I want to make someone's heart skip a beat in recognition of feelings they've had themselves. That I've-so-totally-been-there moment where you connect from one page to another.
I want someone to burn in anger at the thoughts that I would even think something like that. (Like what, you ask? Keep asking...)
I want someone else to feed me their opinion full of venom and then watch them deflate and feel better after having gotten that off their chest.
I want to write something. Anything...
I want to leave a damn mark.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
One year...
Friday will be one year since I separated from my husband.
One year since I packed my belongings, packed my kids' belongings, loaded us all into the car, and drove away without looking back. I refused to turn my eyes to the rear view until I knew I wouldn't be able to see the house.
I moved us into a tiny apartment, put what wouldn't fit into my mom's garage, and prepared us for what was to come.
Its almost impossible to explain to a set of 2 year old twin boys that they won't be going back to the house with their daddy. They don't understand. Their sister was only 5 months old when we split so explaining it to her would have been pointless (though I did actually try in my own way to tell her). One thing that goes to my benefit is that they won't remember any of it hopefully.
I keep wondering why I haven't hit the mourning phase. The phase where you cry and shout at the moon. Blasting questions into the sky about what went wrong and why it had to happen this way. I never went through that phase. I think maybe I had passed it before we had actually split. All the fights and the arguments were just the path that led to the end and I think by the end I had figured it out and had already gotten all my tears out.
I guess we'll see later if that still holds true. I'm still growing.
In a year, I have moved us from the tiny, cramped apartment to a 3 bedroom house with room to spread our wings and fly. I took him to court for child support and made him step up and be a man every other weekend for visitation. I grew a pair of balls and quit letting him rule the time I had to myself when he has visitation.
In a year, I took off my wedding rings. I boxed up anything that reminded me of him and buried it in a corner in a closet. I got my finances straight and got a vehicle that will tote me and my little ones anywhere we want to go. I work full-time and my three sweet babies go to daycare during the day at a wonderful place that takes good care of them.
In a year, I've watched my toddlers blossom into boys who are inquisitive, funny, and ready for adventure. I watched my infant girl turn into a toddler, learn to walk, and start talking. They are all three fiercely independent and I like to think that I've taught them that. :)
In a year, I have proven to myself that he couldn't break me. I actually owe him thanks for doing the best thing he could have done for me.
He set me free.
One year since I packed my belongings, packed my kids' belongings, loaded us all into the car, and drove away without looking back. I refused to turn my eyes to the rear view until I knew I wouldn't be able to see the house.
I moved us into a tiny apartment, put what wouldn't fit into my mom's garage, and prepared us for what was to come.
Its almost impossible to explain to a set of 2 year old twin boys that they won't be going back to the house with their daddy. They don't understand. Their sister was only 5 months old when we split so explaining it to her would have been pointless (though I did actually try in my own way to tell her). One thing that goes to my benefit is that they won't remember any of it hopefully.
I keep wondering why I haven't hit the mourning phase. The phase where you cry and shout at the moon. Blasting questions into the sky about what went wrong and why it had to happen this way. I never went through that phase. I think maybe I had passed it before we had actually split. All the fights and the arguments were just the path that led to the end and I think by the end I had figured it out and had already gotten all my tears out.
I guess we'll see later if that still holds true. I'm still growing.
In a year, I have moved us from the tiny, cramped apartment to a 3 bedroom house with room to spread our wings and fly. I took him to court for child support and made him step up and be a man every other weekend for visitation. I grew a pair of balls and quit letting him rule the time I had to myself when he has visitation.
In a year, I took off my wedding rings. I boxed up anything that reminded me of him and buried it in a corner in a closet. I got my finances straight and got a vehicle that will tote me and my little ones anywhere we want to go. I work full-time and my three sweet babies go to daycare during the day at a wonderful place that takes good care of them.
In a year, I've watched my toddlers blossom into boys who are inquisitive, funny, and ready for adventure. I watched my infant girl turn into a toddler, learn to walk, and start talking. They are all three fiercely independent and I like to think that I've taught them that. :)
In a year, I have proven to myself that he couldn't break me. I actually owe him thanks for doing the best thing he could have done for me.
He set me free.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Saying goodbye...
A friend of mine died this week in a car accident. She was young, beautiful, and full of potential.
The day of her funeral, her fiance, my cousin asked me how he was supposed to do this. How was he supposed to say goodbye to the love of his life? He expressed to me how he didn't think he could make it through the service.
The only answer I could give him was to take it one breath at a time.
Some things are so hard, so emotionally impossible to deal with, that the only way to make it through the hardest moments is one breath at a time. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Somewhere in the middle of all that breathing, time passes and you quit concentrating so much on just getting air and start living again.
I've dealt with some very hard things in my life. I've lost family and friends alike. The only way I've found to make it through is to just keep breathing. There is never really a way to say goodbye. Would you ever really want to?
Instead of saying goodbye, I say I'll see you later. Later in my dreams, later in my thoughts, later in my prayers, and later in my memories. You will always be with me in some way. In the way I live my life. In the way I treat others based on your kind examples. In the way I'll always remember your laughter. I will never really be able to say goodbye to you.
And that's okay because not saying goodbye means I keep a piece of you in my heart with me forever. As we all know, the only people you want to carry in your heart are the ones who touched it anyways.
So for now, I say I'll see you later...
The day of her funeral, her fiance, my cousin asked me how he was supposed to do this. How was he supposed to say goodbye to the love of his life? He expressed to me how he didn't think he could make it through the service.
The only answer I could give him was to take it one breath at a time.
Some things are so hard, so emotionally impossible to deal with, that the only way to make it through the hardest moments is one breath at a time. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Somewhere in the middle of all that breathing, time passes and you quit concentrating so much on just getting air and start living again.
I've dealt with some very hard things in my life. I've lost family and friends alike. The only way I've found to make it through is to just keep breathing. There is never really a way to say goodbye. Would you ever really want to?
Instead of saying goodbye, I say I'll see you later. Later in my dreams, later in my thoughts, later in my prayers, and later in my memories. You will always be with me in some way. In the way I live my life. In the way I treat others based on your kind examples. In the way I'll always remember your laughter. I will never really be able to say goodbye to you.
And that's okay because not saying goodbye means I keep a piece of you in my heart with me forever. As we all know, the only people you want to carry in your heart are the ones who touched it anyways.
So for now, I say I'll see you later...
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