Bad Blogger

I have officially become a crappy inconsistent blogger. Boo me. I have been sick since Friday. A little sick,not a lot sick. So, I have mostly been sleeping. I worked both yesterday and today, but not full days. I think I am kicking it, however, my nephew who I spent time with on Friday and Sunday, went to the E.R. with the flu yesterday. I guess we'll see if that spread along to me. I so hope not.

Sadly, that is about all that is going on in my life. My Thursday night class is going as well as can be expected. I find myself coming up with reasons why not to like it. But I realize that it is far more about me than it is about the issues I keep coming up with. So, fight through it. I think we took a turn in my accountability group tonight, and I am glad for that. We are finally beginning to open up and get real with each other. Perhaps that sounds odd several months into it. I think we have been testing the waters, so to speak, but I do think we are finally learning that we can actually allow ourselves to trust one another.

I know this blog bit, but Nyquil is calling my name. Night Night.

Too Many Kids

If any of you Ever hear me say that I am considering keeping four children for the weekend, slap me, hard. I am BEAT. I got home from giving them back to mom around four and went straight to bed for a four hour nap. What makes babies think it's ok to drink bottles at one, then two, then five-thirty in the morning??? They would wake up hungry but be too tired to drink enough so they'd just keep waking up. I will be very grateful for uninterrupted sleep in my bed tonight. I hate that I didn't get any pictures of the big girls this weekend, but two six month old babies seem to command a lot of attention. I did get the babies ears pierced and they are looking oh so sweet. And can I just say that I find it quite amusing when they even sleep in the same position.

Happy Snow Day

Who knew this happened in Texas??? The bad news is my nephew woke me up early to tell me to get up and go to work. What he meant to say was his school is closed and he's bored and wanted to call Stefie. The good news is I'm going back to bed. Yea for me!

Letting Go

My grandmother passed away Saturday night. My mom's mother. My grandmother and I were never close but after she told me, at age thirteen, that I was going to hell, well I just didn't have a good feeling left for her. My issue is that I think I feel sad that she died. I feel unentitled to that grief. Plus, why do I feel sad? I didn't like her. I haven't seen her in six years. I guess I am just confused. I am not sure how I should feel or what I do feel or why I feel it. Perhaps it is sadness at the loss of the relationship that could have been. I think sometimes when people grow up in chaos some part of them clings to the fantasy of the relationships that could have been. I know, consciously, that my grandmother and I would never have that 'dream' relationship. But I guess maybe it goes back to that little girl inside me, again, who still believes in fairy tales. And now that she is gone I have to accept the reality that it could never be. I may be over analyzing just a tad, but I'm good at that.

Did Someone Say Ice??

My sliding tire marks. The big indention at the top of the puddles is where my front tires slid through.





The silt fence that saved me from the 6' deep ditch.





My oh so muddy tire.


It was an eventful night last night. I went bowling with some friends and on my way home at about 1 in the morning, an icy road came out of nowhere. Now don't get me wrong, all the bridges were icy. I took 45 minutes to make what is typically a 20 minute drive. But no roads were iced, just the bridges. So when I was 1/4 mile from my house and there were no more bridges, I thought I was home free, literally. Well....never works that way does it. They redid the road leading to my neighborhood about five months ago. They did not, however, make a regular road. It is asphalt and pebbles. No one ever bothered to let me know that it won't work like a typical road in inclement weather. There are no cracks so the water doesn't drain and so it pools on top of the road and, yes, freezes. No good for me. But, I ended up in the only place that would not cause serious damage to my car or myself. The fence literally stopped my car from going over sideways into the ditch. There was one post at my front tire and one at the back as though God placed my car exactly where it needed to land. So, all in all, despite the 2 hour wait for my friends to pull me out and the extreme late hour I got to bed, it was really not so bad. Could have been so very much worse.

I have more to talk about but I will save it until tomorrow so we can stick with the lighthearted blog. I know you guys get all crazy like when I try to mix it up.

Fear Sucks

Want to know where I am? Here's where. I am like a child. A child who has recurring sore throats. I hate it when my throat is sore, and I would love for them to go away. The problem is that the only way to make them go away is to have surgery to have my tonsils removed. While some part of me knows that to have them removed means I won't have any more sore throats, most of my little girl heart is simply terrified at the unknown complications and the unavoidable pain of the process.

So, I just lay, curled into a ball, and weep like the broken little girl that I actually am. I, by the age of seven, already had most of my current defense mechanisms in place, not perfected, but there none-the-less. That summer, I broke my arm roller skating. My dad took me to the e.r. and they decided they had to put me under to reset it. I was so frightened, but I couldn't let anyone know it. I remember lying in that bed as they wheeled it down the hall and fighting with all that was in me to make the tears welling in my eyes stay hidden. I was a little girl, afraid of the unknown, but more afraid of letting anyone know how very scared I was. Why? Because I would have been told to suck it up. To be tough. To act like a seven year old instead of a three year old. I still feel like that little fear-filled child. Afraid of what God is asking me to face. And feeling, maybe not being, but feeling completely alone. With no one to protect me, no one to hold my hand and tell me that despite the pain, I will be ok. I know, I know, that is what I am supposed to allow God to do. I so wish I could just make the choice to trust Him and than follow through with it.

I went to a funeral on Friday. It was my brother-in-law's grandfather. It was the first funeral for my nieces and nephews. There was, of course, concern about the younger ones attending. But, since they just did a closed casket, graveside service, it was decided that all would go. About five minutes into the service, my nephew Brayton, who is six, lost it. I didn't realize what had happened as my view of him was blocked. All I saw was the broken look on my brother-in-law as he raced back and swept his baby boy into his arms. Then he held him, for the rest of the service, and father and son shared their grief. I was broken by the sadness and the sweetness of that moment. Today, as I sat thinking about the broken child in me and longing for people in my life who would 'sweep me up' and hold me as I weep, I realized something. The only reason someone doesn't is because I am still that little girl, too afraid to cry, too afraid to let someone know I hurt. How can I expect anyone to help hold me up if I never let them know that I am falling?

Ok, no more introspection for now, I'm beat down.

My So Called Life

I feel like writing though I am not quite sure what I want to say. There seems to be a million things swirling around my heart and head and processing is something I tend to suck at doing. I have, finally, made it to week ten of my "Making Peace" group. Amazing that I started this journey almost four months ago. How exciting that this week is 'Forgiving Others.' Can you hear the sarcasm seeping through my fingertips?

I think I am arriving at a place in my life where I am actually recognizing some things that I will absolutely have to do in order to get anywhere. Problem is, I REALLY don't want to do them. As far as forgiveness goes, I think something that really holds me back is that I feel that by forgiving I am saying that whatever the offense happened to be, that it is ok. And it isn't. Everyone keeps telling me that it is not saying it is ok, but then what is it? I'm sorry......It's ok. That's how the conversation goes, right? I guess I just don't understand how I can say I forgive you and not be saying that I am ok with whatever you did to me.

Now, while that is a legitimate issue for me, I think perhaps it is moreover a smoke screen for the bigger issue. And that is sheer terror. In order to truly forgive I must look honestly at the offenses. To look honestly at them is to admit the devastation they created and the pain that has resulted. To look at that pain is to feel that pain. And quite frankly, I don't want to. There are several things that terrify me about that. First, though irrational and childish, is that the pain will destroy me. Second, that I might never be free regardless of going through all of that madness. Third, that I might actually become free. My prison is scary and lonely and frustrating, even devastating. But, it's home.

I signed up for a new support group that begins in a week. It is called "Shelter from the Storm" and is to deal with the trauma of sexual abuse. I have no idea if I am man enough to do it. It is horrifying to even consider. Yet, I know it is one more thing I will have to do. The above fears are the same for this scenario. When I look back on those times all I see are still pictures. I know what happened, but I refuse to look at it. I don't let the pictures become videos, it is just too much. After therapy today a tape began to play in my head a little and I felt the urge to pull my truck over and vomit. I had to pray and beg God to take the images out of my head. I just don't know if I am ready to look at those events, to really see them, to feel what I must have felt, what I should have felt all the years since. I can't fathom even having to see all the details with my mind, and now I would have to actually speak them. I honestly don't know that I can do that. I will have to at some point in my life if I ever want to be whole, but I so, so, so do not want to.

Am I a mess or what??