Can you be youer than you?

It's easy for me to make friends.  It always has been.  My secret?  I talk.  A lot.  To anyone and everyone around me.  I tell people more than they want to know, always.  I make sure that every detail is fully covered and talked about and it disrupts my inner being to be cut off in the middle of a conversation with someone.

I love having those hard talks that no one seems to want to have.  The ones where someone ends up with tear tracks on their cheeks because the emotions are just too much to bear.  I love to argue my point until the other person understands where I am coming from but I also don't shy away from admitting that I am wrong.  Because sometimes, I am.  In fact, I am often the wrong one. 

I am an over-sharing kind of person.  If you have spent any real amount of time in my presence, you know the things that I have issues with (loss, abandonment, infidelity) as well as, the things I fear (spiders, death, my father) and love (my husband, my kids, myself).  Some of those topics come readily to my lips and others take a bit more coaxing depending on who I am talking to and what kind of image I feel I must present to that person.

I want to be who I am-fully and without apology-but some situations call for me to act in a certain way that isn't really in my description of me.  There are times when I have to be guarded about the things I say and the way I act. 

Girl Scouts, for example.  I have to  reign in the cuss words and the antics to present a more well-rounded and responsible adult or the girls would never take me seriously. 

At the kid's school is another example.  When I know that I will be entering the school building for a conference or on official Girl Scout business, I try to dress and act a certain way.  I look very young for my age (I am 29 but look as though I am barely 17) so I try to portray a rather mature adult so that the teachers take me seriously as a parent and a leader.  That is often rather hard to do. 

But other than in official parent or leader situations, I am less likely to worry about the way I am portrayed to the people around me.  I am who I am and you are either going to love me fully or hate me just as completely.  I accept that.  It's fine with me because I know who I am and what I stand for and as Dr. Suess said so aptly...

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those that matter don't mind."

I try to be real.  I try to never be perceived as something I am not.  I know what I am and I want you to know it, too.

I am loud.  I can be obnoxious.  I think I'm funny, playful, even witty at times.  I am smart, outgoing, hard-working when I feel like it, lazy almost always.  I refuse to clean the toilet or do the dishes, but will always do the laundry.  I like to have fun as long as it is not immature antics.  I love to talk and meet new people.  I love to hear about your life and your problems as long as you don't expect me to fix it all for you. 

What I am not is perfect.  At all. 

I have a wonderful loving husband and two beautiful children.  I have two dogs and a house that is just short of having a white picket fence.  I live in small town America and work at a job that affords me the luxury of being home for my children everyday when they get out of school.  My husband makes enough money at his job to support us financially in a way that is more than comfortable.  I have a good relationship with my mom and live close enough to see her every day if I choose to do so.  I have extended family that is always willing to babysit for the hubby and I to go on date nights.  I volunteer my time as a Girl Scout leader.

That's the surface.  Look a little closer.

My husband and I have not always been so loving and wonderful together.  Our almost eight years together have been fraught with highs and lows.  The death of his mother helped us (me) to realize where the important things in life really lie and taught me to grab hold tight of the good things.  My husband is a good thing. 

My children are great.  But they are children and they annoy the ever living hell out of me.  I resented having to be a stay-at-home-mom and learned the wonderful habits of yelling and sitting on my ass constantly.  I still yell more than I should.  I can't keep a constant discipline (not that they are bad enough to need it) nor can I keep up the routine of chores and allowance.  I am a lazy parent with potential.

I hate my dogs and never spend enough time with them.  And my house sits directly behind a car wash on a dirt road.  There is always trash in my front yard blown in from their garbage cans. 

My job is boring and my boss is passive aggressive.  Since I am lazy, that isn't a great combination.  I tried to quit and they told me I couldn't so we worked out a deal and now I only work part-time and get to be there for my kids whenever I need to be.  Everything is a trade-off.  I deal with the job because it benefits my family.

My husband has a great job...but it takes precedence sometimes.  It's hard to get him to take time off because he cares so much.

Living close enough to my mom to see her everyday is a blessing and a curse.  It means that I am the one responsible for her and that I don't get that "oh I haven't seen you in forever" hug that the others get when they come home. 

Extended family to babysit is nice but it also means there is always other people to worry about and deal with and plan around for every occasion.  That gets stressful.

Leading a Girl Scout troop is more work than I ever cared to deal with because I don't like kids.  I hate them.  Stinky, sticky little creatures that argue and can't pay attention and break things and did I mention they are stinky?  Teaching them what they need to know is difficult work.

So, see?  I am not perfect and you shouldn't perceive me to be.  Ever.  I have my issues, I just may not have laid them on the table for you yet.  I am not interested in coming right out and saying "Hey.  Guess what the biggest fuck up I've made in my life is."  But if the conversation arises or if you ask me point blank, I will tell you honestly.  And you may or may not be surprised. 

Every thing that has happened in my life has brought me right to this moment so I wouldn't change a thing.  I regret that people have been hurt tremendously by me.  I hate some of the things I have done.  But it is all me.  It's my life and I will own up to my mistakes.  If not for my own benefit, then for yours.  Maybe you can learn from the mistakes I have made. 

That is my road less traveled. 

Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.
--Dr. Suess

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…until you drown.

My blog has been my safe place.  A semi-anonymous place for me to dump my thoughts and feelings and such so that I can get through the day to day of life.  The place where I can document the lives of me and my husband and children so that someday, when I die, I will have left a legacy of who I am.  A place where I am me, totally, unapologetically me, even if a bit guarded.  A place where I feel accepted by the people that read my words.  Because no one has had a problem with what I’ve written…or at least they haven’t brought it into real life conversations and that is okay with me.

I use a website to track visitor ISP addresses so that I know where you are from.  I pay attention to who follows and reads me so that I am sure to return the favor and try out your blog as well.  I spend a lot of time on my blog even if I don’t write every day.  I have drafts saved on my dashboard and in Windows Live Writer.  I have ideas in Word documents on both my work computer and my home computer. 

The point?  I love my blog. 

Or at least I did.  Now, I am scared of what I put out here.  I am scared to write my words and feelings and let you all in.  I am scared to allow you to look into my life, to see my kids, to be privy to thoughts that I wouldn’t say to your face.

Because now I feel like my blog has been violated. 

I have a reader that doesn’t deserve the pass to be here.  Someone that I have never wanted to have the chance to meet my amazing family, let alone see pictures of my kids and know my inner most thoughts and feelings.  Someone who causes so much turmoil inside of me that it’s hard to hold a single conversation without anger or tears.

Someone who makes me want to close my blog, my MySpace, and my FaceBook.  Someone who makes me want to never touch technology again.  Someone who after 18 years, read my words and interpreted them in a way that suited him and not in the way they were meant. 

But your blog is PUBLIC!  Didn’t you ever think this would happen?

Yes, I did.  More and more of my family has found or been told about my blog.  Word has spread and I understood that.  I knew that.  I knew this could happen. 

But knowing and dealing are two different things.  Very different.  Knowing that somebody might be reading my blog is different that knowing they do in fact read it.  And that they are therefore privy to things that they otherwise would not be. 

I know, I know.  I am rambling.  But here’s the gist of this post.  I don’t know how to deal with this person being privy to my thoughts.  My immediate response what to shut down the blog all together.  After careful consideration and more tears than you can imagine, my decision is…

…I don’t know.  There is no decision. 

And this is where I leave you hanging in wonder until I come to terms with my situation and the people who read my extremely PUBLIC blog. 

For think where it should come from…

I know. 
You are sitting there with bated breath.
Did the class turn me into
a writing genius?
My answer is a resounding…
Yes. 

Just kidding.  It did help.  It opened up my eyes to a world of new possibilities…and two new books that have been added to my Borders shopping list!  I loved it.  I really did.  (Beware, dear hubby, for I may feel as though a 3 class community education course isn’t quite enough, and thusly research other forms of writing education.  I’ll keep it cheap.  I promise.  Well, I hope.) 

I came full circle last night, starting out in a fit of panicky shaking and ending the night with the fear of the unknown places this new writing class could take me.  But, ya know, I am ready.  Willing.  Able to see this thing through and let out the writer that I am sure hides within the confines of my human form. 

We were given an assignment last night to start a piece of writing (in any form) with these words…”For think if you should lose her”. 

Everyone became quiet as we settled in to let the beautiful muses take hold of our hands.  Pens flew across the varied papers, some fast, some slow, but all flying gracefully none-the-less.  The words seemed to be absorbed from the universe in a sort of wonky osmosis kind of way and transform themselves into food on the paper itself.  It was an eerie process, this energy that flowed from the air through my body and out of my fingers.  I can only wonder if everyone felt the same sensations that I did.

It didn’t take long for we were all told when to begin and the ending just…well, it just came.  No one said “stop”, no one called time.  The words flowed out and when they were done, they were done, and there was suddenly, as if by magic, words where there previously were none.  Sentences, periods, commas…it was all there in blue ink, on white paper.  It really just…happened.  I cannot explain it further. 

When I laid down my pen, when the words stopped their flow, I read what I had wrote and just didn’t understand.  It didn’t make sense.  When I was told the starting words, I sat a moment to let them sink in and then thought about my daughter.  I thought that I was writing about my daughter.  But when I read those words, they just didn’t coincide with my thoughts.  They weren’t about my daughter at all.  But then, what could they be. 

I settled with not knowing.  For that is what the energies told me to write and who am I to go against the cosmic declarations?

It was only later that a truth was laid upon my desk.  Brought to me by a classmate and wrapped in a bundle of understanding and camaraderie. 

“I listened to your piece.  I thought it was about you…as a writer.”

The light dawned, the heavens opened and the truth was revealed.  The writing that had been formed through my fingers was as simple and as complex a piece as I have ever written…and in true narcissistic form, it was about me.  Well, about me the writer.  As soon as she said it, I felt it.  As soon as it left her lips, it was written in the stars and a title was born.  I give you…

The Writer in Me

For think if you should lose her
that lovely little child.
For think if you should lose her
out in the world, running wild.
Will you chase or let her be?
Will you allow her to just be free?
Are you really losing that
lovely little girl?
Or is she just growing up
in this scary, scary world.
Because if you should lose her
think, is she really lost?
For she’ll always be your little one
no matter what the cost. 

an original piece of writing, by J…

He’s Creeping Back in…

Hubby says it started when this guy asked to be my friend on Face Book. 

I guess, he wasn’t just any guy.  Technically, he’s my uncle.  Although, no one really acknowledges that fact.

I know I don’t. 

Well, until now, I guess. 

I have a very extended family.  My mom has been married 4 times now and there are five of us kids.  Hubby’s parents were only married to each other but there are six kids in that family.  So counting the siblings and their spouses alone there are 19 of us.  I have numerous step-siblings as well from my mom’s recent marriage(some of whom I have never actually met).  I also had a step-brother from one of mom’s previous marriages but I haven’t seen nor spoken with him in more years than I can count.

What does all of that have to do with my uncle?  All of the above is on only one side of my family.  My mom’s.  No one on my Dad’s side is accounted for. 

I haven’t had any sort of contact with my father since I was between 9-12 years old.  Why can’t I pin-point it closer than an age range?  Because I don’t remember.  My childhood memories are so repressed that I am unable to remember specifics, just ranges. 

As the story goes, he was given a choice…go to jail or sign over parental rights to me and my little sister.  He chose the latter of the two.  And I haven’t talked to him since.  He pretty much disappeared from my life and he took his family with him.  All of the uncles, aunts, and cousins…no contact at all.  It’s like I don’t exist on their radar.  I do have contact with my Grandpa…because he tried.  He kept track and he stayed in touch all these years.  He cared. 

I could go on and on about growing up without my real father.  About how I felt abandoned and unloved and how it has tainted my every relationship…

But that’s not what this post is about. 

Hubby said it started when the uncle asked to be my friend on Face Book.  He said it as he held me at six o’clock this morning.  He said it in response to my obviously upset demeanor.  The shaking (although that  may have only been on the inside), the trembling voice, the sleep deprived eyes.

I had another dream last night.  Yes, another. 

My father has been standing at the edge of my dreams for a week now.  Never showing his face.  Never coming near me.  And yet still making me afraid. 

Do I have something to be afraid of?  My adult mind would say no, not really.  My inner child though, would not agree. 

I have spent my life with terrifying thoughts in the back of my mind about being stolen.  As a child, I was scared he would pop out from behind the bushes and take me.  Now, I am scared the the prey will be my children.  Every story of a pedophile, every story of abduction, every time my kids are outside playing with their friends, the thought lays in the recesses of my mind, never far from reach.  The thought that he will take them…and along with them, the life and happiness that I have built without his help, without his guidance, without his love. 

He has always haunted me.  Like a ghost that isn’t dead.  A ghost that can actually cause me harm.  But I have always been able to compartmentalize him.  Shove him into a little box and down so deep in my head that he can’t hurt me. 

But now, he’s creeping back in and haunting my dreams. 

The adult me wants to reach out.  I have a step-mom and more step-siblings that have never laid eyes on.  I have a whole extended family that lives within hours of me that I wouldn’t even know if I saw them on the street.  With today’s technology, I could stay at a  safe distance but have contact with almost anyone I want to have contact with.  My step-mom has Face Book. 

But the child in me awakens early in the morning shaken and scared because he once again crept into a place where he wasn’t wanted.  Unannounced.  The child in me knows that he has stolen so many years and moments of happiness from my life and by invading my dreams he continues to be a thief in the night. 

Trying to reach out to a family that was taken from me may have opened the door to a demon resurgence.  More armor may be necessary.  

Ever told your child, 'We'll do it tomorrow.' And in your haste, not see his sorrow?

I quit my job yesterday.

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
Do you run through each day on the fly?  
When you ask 'How are you?'  Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head?  
Ever told your child, 'We'll do it tomorrow.' And in your haste, not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch?  Let a good friendship die?  
Just call to say 'Hi?
When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift....Thrown away.....
Life is not a race Take it slower.  
Hear the music before the song is over.

I quit my job yesterday. 

My son looked up at me from his place on the kitchen floor one night last week and said, "Do you have to go to work every day this summer?"

My heart broke.  I love my kids and they are growing up way to fast right before my eyes.  I run myself ragged every day of the week with no time to just stop and appreciate the little people that they are right this moment. 

Like most people, I work full-time (8:30 to 5:00 Monday thru Friday).  My kids get picked up from school by a daycare provider and spend the next couple of hours playing with their friends, watching movies, or playing video games.  I pick them up, take them home and the routine starts.  Do homework at the counter while I start dinner, eat dinner, get ready for bed, tuck the kids in, work on laundry or dishes, and then spend a little bit of down time watching tv with Hubby until I fall asleep on the couch.  Get up and go to bed around 11pm.  Repeat the next day. 

While this schedule works for most people and for a lot it has to work, it's not working for me.  Or for my family.  Much of that time spent with my kids is time that I am grouchy because I have spent my entire day doing very little and then feel bombarded by the messy house and the loud children.  It's not a good situation and it no longer works for us. 

I've mentioned before that both of my kids are in grief counseling at school, however, did I mention that Bubba has been getting bullied?  Terribly?  To the point of constant headaches from his head being hit against the ground and crying because the playground monitors didn't believe he was not to blame and punished him instead.  The grief counseling isn't moving along very well for Bubba.  The bullying has been dealt with but still torments my little guy.  Teensy...she's holding everything inside and will one day explode into a fit of crying so large she will flood the town. 

My kids need me.  They need to be raised by me with my ideals in their heads.  With my lessons and my love and my understanding to get them through their days.  That is my role as a parent.  So that is what I must do. 

I quit my job yesterday.  Even with an unstable economy, I chose to take care of my family first.  I chose to live a little lighter and spend dramatically less so that my kids have me to take care of them. 

But they wouldn't let me go.  My employers bent over backward to work something out so that we all can be happy in the long run.  Today, we work out the final details and those will look something like this...

I will work from 8:30 to 2:30 from now until the kids get out of school so that I can be there to pick them up and we can go home and have homework done and dinner made before daddy gets home and we can all enjoy family dinners again that are eaten early enough to spend a little time cuddling on the couch or playing a game. 

This summer, I will work about 10-15 hours a week.  I will come in each day for a couple of hours and my kids will come with me.  They will watch a movie in the back office or play out in the yard and then we will enjoy the summer days together.

Next Fall, I will go back to the 8:30 to 2:30 hours.

My house will be cleaned and organized finally.  We will be able to enjoy family picnics on Daddy's lunch breaks and summertime BBQs on weeknights.  The kids will get to play with their friends.  I will be able to work on an exercise plan, take my dogs for walks and get back to the things I liked doing before I came back to work...like hang with my BFF.

And I will be making only a little less than when I was paying someone else to raise my kids for me. 

I never wanted to be a stay-at-home-mom...until I started working full time and realized that I was missing a lot.  And now I am really excited to still be able to provide a little extra money for my family while still being the caretaker, teacher, and mommy to my babies. 

I quit my job yesterday...and it worked out to my advantage.  :)

Late Night theories...

"People are complex. They are not good or bad, black or white. I think labels are destructive. The choices we make, especially when we're young, don't decide who we are. They just add to the people we are becoming." --Sage Baker on Priveleged

It's the occasional little gems like this quote that form the reason I watch much of what I do on television. This particular quote sums up my theory on life in a few short, perfectly worded, sentences.

It came at the end of an episode in which I smiled in pride at the way they tackled the same sex marriage issue with two men planning their wedding and then frowned in disgust when they showed only the first moments of the ceremony just to skip to the reception, never showing the vows and thus glazing over an important part for many viewers...including myself.

It came at the end of an episode in which a girl must face the fact that her religous boyfriend isn't open to new experiences in life being rather content with the limited experiences he already has and therefore must make the hard decision to break off the relationship and thus making me tear up (they were such a cute couple!!!).

It came at the end of an episode that contained as many ups and downs as my own life in the span of an hour instead of 28 years. An episode that left me feeling inspired and alive.

You see, my belief in life is that people are complex. We are all made up of a menagerie of experiences and lessons learned. There is no black and white, good and bad. It's all gray area to me. Every circumstance must be judged on an individual basis based upon that person's experiences and their lives up to that point. What is good for one is not necessarily good for the next.

Everything that happens in one's life makes up the person they become. If I do a bad thing, that doesn't make me a bad person. It makes me human. My childhood was full of abuse, negative feelings, and a large dose of heartache along with the good memories. As a teen, I made mistake after mistake. As an adult, I have made bad decisions and put myself ahead of others when I shouldn't have. And yet, I can't bring myself to regret a moment of anything that has happened in my life. I regret causing pain to others. I regret how I reacted at times. But I do not regret the actual events that have taken place in my life. It has all shaped and formed and molded who I am right this minute.

"The choices we make, especially when we're young, don't decide who we are. They just add to the people we are becoming."

So give people the chances they deserve. Realize that life is in the journey. Allow everything you experience and every choice you make to mold you into the best person you can be.

Maybe we'll all have it master by the day we die. One can only hope.

((Yeah. This is the type of thing I think about in the late night hours when the kids are sleeping and the Hubby is off working on his snowmobile. It doesn't happen often that I get quite this deep in thought. Hope it was a nice change of pace.))