The long and potholed road....

A few weeks back I began a little story... about a girl... an awkward girl... her young marriage.... her loss. A story about me. This is not a pompous arrogant narcissistic biography. Far from it. I just always felt like I wanted to put things down on (paper), and there were times that I couldn't, but now I am. This is serving as a bit of catharsis for me with a bit of closure on the side. I had planned to continue where I left off sooner than this but life got in the way. Regardless, and without a subtle witty segue....


It's always darkest before the dawn, right? I know that is some sort of somewhat famous quote from some sort of place. The where and the of who of it is not important right now. The fact is, after I lost  my first set of twins I entered a dark place. I moved through days simply because I had to. I went to work and came home. We moved into our new home that was supposed to full of optimism and it felt empty. He worked non-stop, even got a promotion. There was no talk of what happened, only me crying over the littlest things and him shaking his head and walking away. Four months of utter darkness. I recall doing things like getting into the shower with my clothes still on. Pouring the coffee until it overflowed. Burning dinner constantly, which earned me nothing but chastisement from him. It was like a dark fog for me, and it turned into an excuse for him. An excuse that he used when his confession finally came as I knew it would. He wasn't just working at work, he was cheating, with his co-worker.
I believe he claimed my depression alienated him and pushed him to it. I don't recall the exact words really. Just the feelings. The anger. I raged. I threw things. I told him to get out. Basically what you would expect. He went away, for a week anyway, to his sisters. And while he was gone, the most bittersweet thing happened. I found out I was pregnant.... again.

The act that led to this pregnancy, sadly it was not the expression of love and devotion as it should have been. It was an act of anger. It was a violation. It was a moment that I will never forget because I had never felt so used, so betrayed, so empty. He openly admitted to a few friends that it was a violation, he even used the term.... rape. And despite all of this I panicked, for several reasons not the least of which was the fear that he actually would leave and I would be alone. Again, I begged him to stay. He did.

With the rest of the world looking in at us, we had a healthy baby boy 9 months later and pretended to be happy and normal. Six months after that, I became pregnant again. Initially I thought it to be a huge mistake. I now know my second son was a gift. He came early, and there we were a happy little family of four. But not really. We were broke, due to his career change and subsequent drop in pay. I spent those days robbing Peter to pay Paul just to keep a roof over our head where the checkbook was concerned. He insisted we refinance. He applied for credit cards. He bought man-toys. I cooked, cleaned, and took care of the littles, and he was never there. If he was, I cringed. The cooking wasn't good enough. The cleaning wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough. I should dye my hair this color or that color, or lose weight. The cars broke down constantly, because apparently I was a bad driver. I don't remember exact phrases, I just remember these thoughts. He made me feel and think this way. He was snide, and snarky. Resentful. Critical. He pointed out every fault. Every mistake. Resentment built around me like a cold hard iron wall. He told me to find a job. I did. It was part time, it was trivial, and it didn't pay a lot. But it was close to home and convenient. And then he changed jobs again, worked more overtime and told me to quit so we didn't have to pay a sitter.  I did.

I looked around one day and thought... this? This is my life? What the hell happened? And why is it okay to be treated this way? Nothing was ever good enough. Nothing was ever right. Apparently the only thing I was good at was making babies and even that was questionable in my mind. I mean, I had two beautiful little boys. But my first pregnancy, my twins... I thought about it as a failure constantly. I quit my jobs, I quit college, I quit having a social life. I was caregiver, a housekeeper, a cook, a mother.... but somewhere in the short time we were married.... I ceased being a wife. It became painfully clear... I really didn't want to be there anymore. Not in that marriage. There was no love. There was only duty. I was so empty. I began to fantasize about leaving him, about finding someone else, about loving and being and loved.

Shortly after our youngest son's first birthday.... something happened. A friendship with a mutual friend of ours... it changed... I knew, I just knew it was morally wrong. Of course I did. I was raised to believe that. But this friend, he was listening to me. Listening like no one else had ever listened to me. It started with daytime phone calls. Checking in, checking up. Discussions about life, and goals, and dreams, and all the things that had gone wrong or gotten lost along the way. Then there were stolen glances at gatherings... eyes that saw into my soul. He was far from perfect but he was everything that my (husband) wasn't. Kind, sincere, honest, strong. It all sounds so poetic, and 'Twilight'-like. (btw- hate 'Twilight'- just throwing that out there... fyi). One moment in particular.... a moment etched onto me like a tattoo... when this friend turned to me and said... 'I wish I could kiss you right now'....

And then came my inevitable betrayal... my heart-wrenching decision.... and ultimately.... after the smoke cleared and the acrid dust settled.....

My greatest happiness......

~~Das Liebster Mein Liebchen~~

Taking a break from serious depressing posts... to provide you with this: 

My acceptance of the Liebster Award!

*Now is when you clap in thunderous applause*
(Standing Ovation not necessary, but appreciated)
Thank YOU

I would like to thank the Academy.... well, mostly The Plucky Procrastinator... for basically saying {Tag! You're It!}. I would also like to thank the internet, because without it... well I'd have nowhere to shamelessly bask in the glory your attention provides me, despite being completely misanthropic in real life. Rather the conundrum, aren't I?

Now, as with most bloggy awards there are some rules of acceptance.
1. Each person must post 11 things about themselves.
2. Answer the 11 questions the person giving you the award set for you.
3. Create 11 questions for the people you will be giving the award to.
4. Choose 11 people to award and send them the link to your post. Go to your Facebook page and tell them. No tag backs.

... and these rules are basically why it took me so long to post this, because dang... I had a really hard time coming up with questions. I had an equally hard time coming up with 11 other people to give this too... who hadn't just gotten it from someone else.... So yea... Here goes....

~11 Random doo-dads about MSDLH~

1. Contrary to popular belief, I can cook, quite well actually. 

2. I adore John Mayer even if he is supposedly banging Katy Perry.
3. I have a weird crush on Russell Brand
(do you see the irony of the last 2 statements?? lol)
4. I actually can't stand my dog. He smells, he has fleas and he barks at his own shadow... annoying.
5. I have a strange obsession with maps. Maps are uber cool. Screw the GPS!
6. I miss my Mustang! It was the most beautious car. I will have another one~someday!
7. I. can. not. dance. Don't ask me. It's frightening
8. I am unreasonably frightened of flying. Planes- panic inducing flying coffins. It's bad.
9. I HATE FEET. anti-foot-fetish. yuck. (except for adorable baby feet)
10. I can change the oil in my car and I have replaced the brakes as well. The garage hates to see me coming cuz they know they can't get anything over on this girl. One of the benefits of having more car-guy friends than gal-pals in high school :D
11. I am addicted to Utz Puff'n Corn. Sgt. Dad had entire box (48 ct.) shipped to me about 3 months ago. There is one bag left. Nom.

My questions via Ms. Dina-Marie~ A Plucky Procrastinator:

1. Can you play a musical instrument? If so, which one(s) and how long have you been playing?
Well, theoretically I can. I took piano lessons for a bit in my youth... like when I was 8 or something, but at the mention of the word recital... I was like... 'oh hell no!' and I quit. I can play a bit, but I'm no Herbie Hancock... Mostly I sing.... in the car... with the window open... in the drop-off lane at my sons school. :D

2. Do you have any tattoos?
Haha... NO. That would involve a needle going into my flesh... repeatedly. I don't do needles... unless medically necessary. I'm a wuss, and I am totally ok with that.

3. When you were 16 years old, what did you think your life would be like when you were 25?
Oh well... you know... married to a millionaire and sitting in the lap of luxury. Yea... that didn't happen.....  (big aspirations....)

4. If you could only choose one, would it be bacon or sausage?
How is this a valid question?? LOL The answer is always BACON

5. Have you ever been in a car/truck/motorcycle accident?
Nothing major. Thank the Good Lord. There was that time when I was about 17 and hit that 300 lb. kid on his brother's tiny bike.... my poor Chrysler Laser :/

6. If you were stranded on a deserted island, what animal would you really hope was not also on the island?
Just one? Because I could seriously list like a dozen different animals. If I had to pick one though... snakes... like any sort of snakes... ANY... No snakes on an island. Nope.

7. Have you ever ran a marathon?
Bwahahahhahaaaa... yea. Right. Me in a marathon. Hilarious. There would have to be zombies or even snakes involved...

8. If you could pick only one household duty to never do again, which one would it be?
Dishes. I so hate doing dishes. And apparently everyone else around here does too. If I had married that unknown millionaire I wouldn't have this problem.

9. What's the one TV show you never want to miss?
There are a few, but the one show that I can not miss is Fringe. I'm so so sad it's the last season. I'm gonna be so depressed when it's over....

10. What is your earliest memory?
You know, I can't say for sure but I seem to remember looking out of a crib. Seems more dream like  than real. Very vague and foggy. Although I clearly remember kindergarten and getting in trouble for whispering to Joey Schultiess that his coloring looked nice. Couldn't keep my mouth shut then... can't now....

11. Do you like peanut butter in your chocolate?
If my intent is to eat peanut butter in my chocolate sure. But mostly I like chocolate in my chocolate. Unless there are pretzel M&Ms nearby and then well... hand them over and no one gets hurt. Oh, I think I may have some left.... brb....

Back. Success!
So here's the deal, now I have to come up with 11 questions of my own and find 11 other people to send this to. It's like a freakishly odd chain letter.
Here goes....

1. What show from your childhood would you love to bring back?
2. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?
3. You see a spider in the house. What do you do?
4. Cupcakes or Cake?
5. Do you have any strange phobias??
6. What car/ truck would you drive if money were of no consequence?
7. If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?
8. What part of pop-culture do you wish would just go away?
9. If the whole world were listening to you right this minute, what would you say?
10. What movie- no matter how many times you see it- would you watch again (and again and again and again)?
11. Pretend it's your birthday. What would make this day perfect?

and these gems are for the following:

1. Just Another Manic Mommy
2. Razorblade Brian
3. I Will Get Up Again and Again
4. Yoga Mommy's Selftalk(In)Sanity
5. Sorry kid, Your Mom Doesn't Play Well With Others
6. Crazed Ramblings of a Not So Ordinary Mom
7. Pretending to be Normal is Exhausting!
8. Mediocrates
#9-11- Well the truth is... I struggled to come up with 8 folks who I thought may not mind this... and hadn't just received it. It took me almost a week to finish this post, and well... I'm stopping at eight. I'm such an underachiever.

I want Puff'n Corn :D

.... and so it goes...

The Woodchuck Limited Edition Fall Hard Cider is in and currently being consumed... the TV is off... Fiona Apple is on... and I think I am ready to continue where I left off the other day. I began my little story in the third person... why? No clue... it just flowed out that way. But this next bit isn't gonna come out the way. It's just not.

I can not count the number of women that I know, have known, have read about, have seen that have experienced a loss of pregnancy. It is one of the most emotionally painful things that can happen to a woman I think. It was for me. Each and every woman's loss is different. Circumstances are never the same. To compare one woman's loss to another is unfair. That said, my personal loss was like a scene from a really horrible Lifetime movie. I felt like I was in a movie. A very bad surreal movie with crappy acting. It began with the ultrasound guy who said nothing as he poked and prodded and the crease between his brows grew. I knew, I just knew something was horribly wrong. He excused himself from the room. He returned. He continued to say nothing. Being young and inexperienced we sat there... not asking anything for an eternity. I saw them. Two heads face to face on the screen, and yet this guy was saying nothing. I couldn't take it anymore. I asked if it was twins. He said yes, but there is no heartbeat. None. He ended the exam and promptly sent me to the doctor who, after reviewing what he saw, explained that there was indeed no heartbeats, and more than... worse than that... worse than anything I could have possibly fathomed in my entire lifetime.... they were conjoined.

Things from that point on became very blurry. I believe several explanations were given. Discussion over what would happen next occurred. I can't remember exactly, because I was somewhere else asking God... what did I do wrong? I was consumed with that one and only thought. It was the Friday before Mother's Day. They sent me home with the hope that my body would do what it needed to on it's own. It didn't. I got a Mother's Day card in the mail. That I remember very clearly. Monday I had a procedure done, to prepare me for Tuesday.... and on that Tuesday in May I delivered my twins, conjoined, and stillborn and too tiny to even know if they were boys or girls. They were joined at the chest and shared all their vital organs. It was undoubtedly for the best. That is clear. It is known. But that one little thought took up room in brain... What did I do wrong for this to have happened. There was heartbreak. There was unbelievable indescribable pain. The next day my husband went to work. He seemed resigned to it all like nothing had happened and continued his routine. To this day I really don't know what he thought or how he felt or even if he grieved. And this, my dears, was sadly the beginning of the end of a marriage that had barely begun. And with the beginning of the end looming, it was the start of some serious depression, weakness, vulnerability, and in a way.... abuse....

I gave so much brain-space to that one question.... that one thought....

In the beginning....

Giving toddlers ice cream and then promptly leaving.... that is what awesome grandparents do. I am beyond happy that this day, no, this week is over. There were tantrums, and tears, book reports, science projects, sick children, sick pets, a heated argument over money with the Sgt. Dad (he's still seething I think- while he sits in a random tent in a random base in a random part of a war zone). There was a general feeling of crazy each and every day. I've been experimenting with herbal supplements too- not such a great idea I discovered. And then... there was the PMS. So... all in all... epic craptasticness abounded. But I fought, and I muddled, and I cried, and kept moving forward, and now it's Sunday night, and I need wine. So cheers!

There was also what my friend and I decided to call... an 'un-anniversary'... this week. When you're a SAHM sometimes you lose track of the days, the dates, but earlier this week, I noticed the date, and I stopped short and sighed. A sad sigh. There was both a feeling of relief mixed with a bit of grief.

If I had stayed married to my first husband, it would have been our 14th wedding anniversary.

And here is where the real story is. I am beyond relieved that I do not have to spend my days walking on eggshells and feeling like I'm not enough for someone else, and being told that I'm not good enough. I have enough trouble feeling like I am enough on my own. But the grief? The grief kind of took me by surprise. It was the first year that I can remember feeling like that. The marriage was short, but the divorce was... messy. Not celebrity Mel Gibson custody messy, but it was tough and cruel, and painful for everyone involved.

And so begins... a slight biography... a glimpse to the past... something I've wanted to write for a really really long time....

In the beginning there was an awkward young girl that had had her heart broken, and had been led on and played more times to count than fingers on your hands. It was the summer after graduating high school and she was desperate for love. In hindsight it seems silly to be so focused on a notion that she couldn't even begin to comprehend. More than love, really, she just wanted to be wanted and to be looked at like she mattered to someone.

Enter, Slick Rick. That's what we'll call him. Because he was incredibly slick, and well, it rhymes. (I like rhymes.) He watched. He waited. He hid his interest behind friendship. He spent time with the guys that were interested in the young awkward girl, and he convinced them to leave her alone. She wasn't worth their time. And once he had cleared this path, he struck. Flowers, compliments, jokes, being available when no one else was. He quite took the awkward girl by surprise. And the awkward girl's friends said- what are you waiting for, he's so into you. Even her mother was wowed. And so, she gave in. 

Fast forward a year.... Everything was grand. They rented an apartment together. They worked hard and paid there bills and planned a life together.... and then he wanted out. The girl, perhaps not so young and awkward now, begged and pleaded that he stay. That they could be happy. That the other girl wouldn't treat him as good as she could. He relented. He stayed. He worked. Every night, every day, seemingly every moment, and this girl became increasingly lonely... and being so young... and immature... her eye wandered. There was a fling. Not an affair, just a not so innocent relationship with another friend that could have led to something, but never really did. Slick Rick caught wind of this relationship. He questioned and accused, and the girl was honest, and repentant, and once again she was the one begging him not to leave. He didn't. He stayed. Resentments built.

Fast forward another year... A beautiful wedding was held. A fairy tale wedding with all the bells and whistles. All the friends and family. The bridesmaids wore purple, the brides favorite color. It was an amazingly beautiful fall day. It was perfect. Who could ask for more? Two months later, this young girl found herself pregnant. She was excited and scared and Slick Rick, her now husband, seemed sort of apathetic to it all. They began house-hunting and planning and there was optimism and old resentments seemed to blow away with the wind. But they didn't. They were hiding under an area rug. That is certain now.

They found a lovely home, and began the whole home-buying process and prepared for their first ultrasound. Folks teased the happy couple, afterall, the young woman was only five months along, and already, she was quite large, it must be twins.

The ultrasound revealed the truth. It was indeed twins. But something was terribly, horribly, disturbingly wrong...
There was no heartbeat....

I'm gonna stop here. This next part may or may not be easy for me to write.... and folks may or may not like it. This was my life. The way I saw it anyway, and I've wanted for so long to sit down and write this out. You wanna read it? Great. If not... I totally understand. I'm thinking this is more a catharsis for me anyway. Perhaps tomorrow I will continue... or the next day....

Right now though, wine! Cheers my deary dears!

I AM ________???

Usually I am not one to follow the curve so to speak. I don't buy into fads, and I don't jump on the bandwagon... unless it's serving fruity drinks. I stay just on the fringes of most clique-y type things. Always have. Some things never change. So today when You Know It Happens At Your House Too issued a little challenge to folks in bloggy-land, initially I shied away from it, because that's what I do. I even started working on a blog entry about painful social awkwardness... which is on hold now. After seeing post after post from her today on my FB wall and reading blog after blog... It hit me... I NEED to do this. To put my inner dialogue down on paper for 5 minutes. To write a few affirmations that I can come back too and say yes... that's me. This is who I am.
So here was the challenge:

"Set a timer for five minutes and write. Write using the prompt I AM __________. Don't edit, don't proofread, don't change it. You are not required to share it with anyone, even though I hope you do, but keep it close by so that on those days when you are feeling really horrible about yourself (we all know that we have those days), you can look back and remember all the things that make you wonderful."

and here goes:

I am a mother to 4 amazing intelligent funny children.

I am a wife to the most amazing man. He saves me daily even though he's on the other side of the globe.

I am a survivor of emotional abuse from my first husband. I still have the scars but I am stronger for it.

I am Stronger than I ever knew I could be. Walking away from abuse, surviving pregnancy loss, living without my love so he can provide for our family.

I am funny as hell. This is a given. I come from a long line of funny albeit depressed people.

I am suffering from depression, but get up and keep moving every day because I have love in my life.

I am introverted and antisocial and socially awkward and- you know what? That is ok! Because it makes me who I am and I have people in my life who accept me the way I am and that totally rocks!

And POOOF.... my 5 minutes are up! Seriously. I did proofread... I do that. I make no apologies for that. Now that this is done and I'm feeling pretty dang good about it... I'm gonna go back to my Litany of Social Awkwardness which will be coming soon to computer screen near you. Take this challenge... even if you don't blog. Take the challenge on paper with a pen or hell... even a crayon... maybe a sharpie. Affirmations that make you proud will also make you smile, and smiling is good (said the depressed girl whose antidepressants aren't working so great!) DO IT!

Awkward & Awesome!

p.s. I am out of cigarettes... and that is not good.....

Let's Make Some Noise!!

"Scars remind us of where we’ve been, they don’t have to dictate where we’re going." -Criminal Minds, Agent Rossi

I borrowed that quote from an amazing FB page: https://www.facebook.com/CSP.Angie. It is a page created by a very brave woman- Nova Scotian author Angela Hartlin. She's written a book 'Forever Marked: A Dermatillomania Story'. 

I am sure you are sitting there thinking, what the hell is that? Is that even a real thing? I could bore you with medical mumbo jumbo and statistics and whatnot, but that would make for a ridiculously boring read, and that is not what I'm going for here. In plain terms it is a struggle. For me (and many like me) it is a constant battle for control over insane amounts of anxiety. Basically, I am super happy it is getting colder out and I will no long be miserable hot because I feel like I can't wear tank tops and pretty dresses because of the scabs and scars on my arms from picking my skin.

Ewwww... right? I know. I look at myself sometimes and think wow.... did I do this to myself? Yep, I sure did. When the world is off kilter and I feel less than stellar about myself I do it. I pick. I pick at every bump, lump, spot, knot, blemish... whatever. On my face is one thing, usually make-up can hide the damage and that is good. But my arms, and even my legs bear the brunt of my anxiety in a very physical way. I started this when I was very young, but in recent years it has gotten much worse. I'm an adult now, and one would think I would leave this sort of thing behind with acne and puberty and junk. But no. I'm still at it. Currently I am sporting any numbers of scabs on my arms. Someone recently said to me- the mosquitoes must love you, and I agreed because it was easier than explaining what I do to myself when no one is watching.

There are over 12 million other people in this country fighting this type of illness, and yes, it is an illness. One my doctor thought the meds I am taking would help. They don't do much really... the meds that is. Doctors don't either for that matter. It wasn't until recently that it was actually recognized as a mental illness. And yet here I sit.

It is a release, a means of controlling something when everything else seems completely out of control. It's a high, it's a low and it's something that a lot of folks just don't understand and no one wants to talk about it. When I'm having what I call a 'bad day' and my feelings are low and I feel bad.. I pick... a lot. I already have several scars, and there will be more, no doubt. I am trying like hell to get a grip on it, but now the cooler weather is coming, and that means long sleeves and camouflage, which means an excuse to pick... because no one will see.

So here is written another post lacking my usual wit and sarcasm because this is serious shit, and I'm hoping by writing about it and ending my own silence that it will help me. You all who read my posts have been genuine and kind and non-judgmental, and basically you're totally awesome, and I appreciate that... and hopefully I can get back to some wit and humor soon... cuz this shit blow giant snot bubbles....

Until then... the wine cup is empty... and my bed is calling to me..... Cheers!

Sing to me, and let me tune out the world John....

Picture somewhat unrelated-altho-he is beautiful

John Mayer is singing sweetly in my ears tonight. I needed him tonight. We are old friends. We go way back. Okay, maybe not way back.... like 10 years or so ago I saw him singing on MTV and I thought gee, he's quite lovely. I have always loved music. At one point in my young life I did the choir thing... think 'Glee' but with less cool song choices. Music, lyrics, rhythms... they speak to me, they take me to certain moments of my own life. In John's case- he got me through. Through divorce. Through pain. He soothed and I love him for that. He's always there too, like an old blankie or your favorite sweatshirt. I just turn him on, and tune out. Tonight, I am tuning out somewhat. Tuning out from the news, tuning out from the quiet of another night without my love. Tuning out after walking out of the grocery store today and finding out that the man in the car 2 spots from mine in the parking lot... killed himself... in his car.

Suicide. Aside from my own grandfather, who gave up when I was only 2, I have never known anyone personally that has given in and ran away permanently. That said, I have been close to those who have known someone personally that took their own life. My husband, for instance, walked into his buddies house as soon as the gun went off and sat on the floor holding a rag to his friend's head until the rescue squad came. Of course it was too late. It changed my husband forever. It made him feel helpless and angry, and he is neither of those things. I could go on listing folks, but it's sort of pointless and perhaps a bit too much for a blog.

I thought about my husband and about his friend and about all the other souls that left us too soon, and those of us left behind. All this while the kind firemen loaded my ridiculous amount of groceries into my truck for me in a great hurry. They wanted me to wait back at the store and bring me my car, but I was already there, and the twins were too busy ooo-ing and aaahh-ing at the firetrucks and such to care about what was actually going on. I put the kids in their seats and we beat feet out of that parking lot and left it behind. But I didn't. I've been thinking about that poor man all afternoon. Was he in the store? Did I walk past him? Did I smile at him or not if he was even there? If someone had shown him a moment of kindness, would he have changed his mind? How does a person get there? I battle depression daily, but I am also aware of that fact that there is so much good in my life. Much to live for. Lives to care for. People to love. People that love me. I've hit rough patches, really rough patches... the rough patches I hit about 10 years ago were like huge gaping bottomless potholes. But there were people in my life loving me and supporting me and caring for me and I never went there... I never thought of it. My only thought was that I had to make it through, for those people that love me, for those people that I love, and mostly for myself.

And there was John singing sweetly to me every night as I went to sleep. Helping me tune out the world.

So no random rambling tonight about curtains that are the wrong color, and curtain rods that are not available in the size I need, and how my kids manage to make the bathroom look like New Orleans after Katrina when they shower. Just some quiet introspection... and John. And tell those that you love... that you love them... because you never know who may need to hear it the most.....