Life as of this minute

My heart is so heavy. I loathe some of the tasks that come with my life. I feel ashamed that I don't want to take responsibility for my choices and yet feel the weight of responsibility. I know what I must do and will do it, just don't want to right at this moment. Life seems so hard and yet I know I'm the only one that made the choices to get to the place that I'm at. I want to reveal my problems to those around me, but have grimly realized that I have made the choices to get to where I am in life and it's no one else's problem.

I see the grass is greener on the other side, yet forget how blessed I am. I look for the easy way and am relieved when others want to quit, too. I am what I want not to be, yet force myself to pretend that I am more than I am and can actually pull this off. Others depend on me and I find it hard to understand their reasoning.

I feel crazy at this moment. I know it will pass and life will continue to unfold and I'll handle what I need to as the time comes. I know grief has it's own process and know the day will come where life won't seem quite so hard. I have a husband that loves me and children that think I'm wonderful. I have a sister who still gets up every day, even after experiencing tragedy I can't even begin to fathom. I have a father who is dancing in heaven and rejoicing the Lord with our precious Lauren.

Off to see if my father will visit me in my dreams again tonight. I have to admit, it was nice to see him, if only in my dreams.

Life is...

Through all the pain in my life, I'm learning to appreciate joy. The way I have lived my life to this point seems so off, yet I never realized how wrong it was until everything fell apart.

I've learned that nothing is guaranteed. There are things in life we come to rely on being there and even neglect because we think they will always be there. We don't have patience with those we love because we simply want to be lazy. Anger rules so much of our lives and we don't even seem to notice.

God gave us this life to live and so many of us are struggling to understand what it means to live. We choose paths that might not appeal to a healthy person but somehow seem hopeful to us. The lack of confidence and trust in ourselves seep out into our lives and influence all around us. Somehow, though, we never really see the result until it seems to be too late.

My father is dying and my sweet, precious Lauren has already died. I see everyone I love suffering due to these losses. My father is ready and I am trying to force myself to prepare for his departure. I am having to face guilt and shame for the daughter I have been.

I don't understand why the things that happen happen. I have no idea how to give my grief to God and accept that things are happening the way they were meant to. The recent tragedies have broken the spirits of almost everyone I know. The grief is overwhelming and gets to a point sometimes that I can't remember how to function on the simplest of tasks.

Another day gone by...

When sitting at work the time seems to drag by. Sitting here in bed after the kids have finally gone to sleep, it seems like it was just moments ago I was trying to drag myself out of this position. Time goes by so quickly. Hopefully I'm learning to make the best of it and not dwell so much on what I have no control over. Hopefully.

Went to hell, now I'm back.

The last couple of weeks threw me for a loop. This year when my son's birthday rolled around, I tried to force myself to deal with the pain and not allow myself to try to escape it. In my journey, I've learned that the emotions will be there, waiting to be dealt with. They don't go away as I wish they would. They, unlike me, seem to have an unlimited supply of patience and will gladly take up residence in some dark corner of my mind. Feeling the pain also comes with a sort of shame for not dealing with it for so long. Then, as if my heart didn't have enough to handle, I lost my best friend. Montana was my dog, through and through. She seemed to understand and accept all my mental health issues and was always there to greet me and offer me whatever comfort I was needing. She even inherited the need to be touching when sleeping and other various, weird quirks I have.

This was supposed to be a long post, but I'm learning to be quiet. So, there it is.

15 years old

That's how old my son would be today if he'd have lived. I find it bittersweet in remembering him. I remember the joy of having my first child. I remember how wonderful it felt when he would grab ahold of my finger and not let go. I remember how important I felt when he would crane his neck when I would walk into the NICU and he would hear my voice. That was the first time in my life I felt like I meant something.

I remember when I was in labor, the selfish and immature way I wondered how much attention I would get if something happened to him. My heart still breaks when I think about how selfish I was. Never did I actually believe anything would happen to him.

Time heals all wounds and this is no different. My heart is broken today, sure, but I managed to make it to work and though tears still fell, I made it through the day. He has changed my life on a regular basis since his short stay on earth. The times in my life when I felt like taking my own life because the pain was unbearable, I remembered how bad it felt to lose a child and I could never inflict that sort of pain on my father. He saved my life with the pain caused by his death. When I get frustrated and want to give up on my kids because I don't know what to do, he reminds me that I love them more than anything and could never leave them.

I got to see the love my father has for me when I was panicked because someone wouldn't be there to make sure nothing happened to him when he was buried. My father's last memory of his first grandchild is him in a coffin with someone throwing dirt on him. The reason for that is to comfort me. I almost feel guilty for having the obsession that led my father to that decision.

My grandmother made the trip to Dallas. I remember her getting out of my aunt's van when they arrived at my house the morning of the funeral. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see her before or since. She had made him a baby blanket (she was so proud of her first great-grandbaby) and he was buried with it. She rarely left the confines of her hometown and I remember feeling so grateful she'd made the trip. My aunts both found time in their schedules to make an appearance, as well.

Today, when my heart wants to hurt, I'm forcing myself to focus on the good peanut (that's my nickname for him... he looked almost like a peanut...he was so little) brought to my life and try to let the hurt go. I'm not doing that great of a job this year, as I've been crying consistently all day long. I do find solace in the fact that I believe he would be proud of the woman I am today. Not always have I been able to say that, but I'm finally at a point where I'm proud of the woman I've become.

As part of my healing, I'm having to learn to let go of things I cannot control. I have always wanted a "sign" that he was ok or for him to come visit me in my dreams or as a ghost. When visiting his grave, I often wonder if he specifically can hear my thoughts and prayers. I guess some questions just have to wait until you get to heaven.

Another defining moment in my life was after he passed away, I ran from the hospital. Psychologically I figured if I could run fast enough, I'd not have to deal with it. The basis for my faith was formed that day. My father chased me down the hall and in front of the hospital he caught up to me. He asked me if I was ok and I remember being so mad that I told him "I'm mad at God". He looked at me and very wisely stated "if you're mad at him, you believe in him". He then turned and walked away. It's as simple as that.

There are both good and bad effects of my son dying. I'm choosing to work on the bad and accept that the gift of loving my children as much as I do comes from losing my first. I will never know, but I have a feeling I'd not love them as much if I'd never had him. He taught me to love with all you have because you never know how long you have it. I will rejoice that he is in Heaven looking over us all and waiting for the day we will all reunite inside the pearly gates.

The hardest part is facing myself

I tend to want to control everything. Lately I've been listening to others and trying to look at myself through the eyes of those around me. The hardest part is...I don't like what I see. I see a selfish, demanding person who doesn't accept no for an answer and never compromises.


I really don't want to be this way, and I am having trouble accepting that I'm the one that has to do all the work. I'm ticked off at my parents because they never gave me what I needed to feel secure and I'm mad at all sorts of things and events that happened. But, it all still comes back to me being the one that has to change.

I'm working on listening and processing the thoughts before I respond. I'm finding that most of the time no response is necessary. I've come to realize that a lot of people excuse themselves from taking responsibility because they know I will if given long enough. I'm trying to move forward and realize what is my business and what isn't. It's amazing how much I stuck my nose in others' business.

I know this is a long road. I know it's a hard road. But, it's the road I must travel if I want to achieve all I have planned for myself. Hi-ho hi-ho it's back to life I go....

The point is...

"I love the way you lie" is a song by Eminem. Up until recently, I'd have immediately changed the channel if I heard his voice on the radio. Then I was distracted doing something and I couldn't change the channel and I heard the words to his song "Not Afraid". Then, after realizing he really had something intelligent to say,  I started venturing out and listening to more of his music. I can honestly say I have a whole new respect for him. Plus, my boss mentioned that he listened to him, I figured it couldn't hurt (as stranger things had ALREADY happened).

I heard the song "I love the way you lie" and something hit home. This describes any marriage that I've been involved in. Four. Wow. But, if you go through the song, it explains exactly what my relationships are like. I've never heard it described so clearly as comparing it to a volcano and a tornado. My husband would be the volcano. I'll explain it first.

Hubby is a patient man. He is predictable and there is warning signs that he's about to go off. If you ignore the warning signs, there is a great chance of tragedy. He's tough, made of rock, but so fragile on the inside. There must be a balance or there is a force of nature to be reckoned with.

Me, I'm not so patient. I'm more like the tornado. You never know when one is going to show up or how much destruction it is going to cause.

To the outside world, I'm just a major bitch. Seems simple enough and people just accept that I'm a horribly unhappy person. The problem is, no one can see inside the storm to see that the comparison to the tornado theory is so close to home, it's like a lightbulb coming on. Sometimes I do something so brilliant that everyone is shocked and can't understand where it came from. I know it's in there and have these emotions that seem to become so violent sometimes that they have a mind of their own.

In therapy I'm learning that this is a gift, not a curse. The fight inside of myself trying to control the direction of the emotion is tremendous. I feel a constant desire to create as much damage as I can to remind myself how badass I am, but forget that I hurt those around me when I lose control. It's easier to live life explaining the shortfall of myself and accepting that I'm just not good enough. Standing up after being knocked down is hard and when life throws things at you that you can't handle... it becomes unbearable.

Realizing how much of my life is truly controlled by emotion and how those around me feed off of it and use their own manipulation to satisfy this need for dramatics. I'm seeing the effect it has on my children and that alone is enough reason for me to figure out how to behave like a healthy person.

Part of the dread is fear. I'm scared of not trying to control everything. I've had things happen in my life that I couldn't control and they hurt me so bad. My mother left when I was little, which I believe is the traumatic event that triggered my self loathing, and I've been saying "shame on you" to myself every since. When Junior died and then my step-father, I felt like I was being punished for my actions as a teen. Then my stepmother blatantly told me that it was my payment. Learning that believing that helps me hold on to the pain was a shock. I truly didn't believe it when I heard it. Then I started reading more and more about codependence and started trying to filter what comes out of my mouth and I noticed a change.

I'm exhausted and hope to write more soon. I have missed expressing my emotions and maybe this will help me to rid myself of the panic of not having any control. At least I can control my blog. :)