Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Just Writing

I stumbled on Extra Ordinary Just Write today. I decided to participate and share a post I wrote myself a few days ago with no intention of sharing. When I found this site, I knew I was going to link up and use this post. It has been a few days, but the stinging feelings are still lingering and not quite washed away.

I have suffered from Depression, but I can promise I'm ok and not going to try to kill myself. At least one foot is on stable ground these days. This was written a few days ago, and are just glimpses into some thoughts that drift through my mind on a bad day.

I feel so hopeless and lost sometimes. I just want someone to love me. Really love me. Not just my kids. I know they love me. I need a shoulder.  I need an ear. I need a hand I need a hug that is not given as an apology. I need to hear that you think I'm attractive even if I am 165 lbs at 5'2. I need to be able to talk to you about my disappointments and worries without being judged.

Sometimes those thoughts of going out to the garage and finding a rope to hang myself is almost an irresistable pull when I feel full of pain. Those moments are fleeting these days, and I am in touch with reality, but they still blow in and out like a wisp of smoke every now and then.

I feel angry. I feel raw inside. My stomach burns like I have an paper cut that I've poured alchohol on. The only way to ease the hurt is to put something on it to weigh it down. I think a big bowl of pasta Alfredo and a buttery baked potato will do.   I wonder if I could have the same relief by making myself throw up. If it worked I'd accomplish several things with one. ease inner turmoil for a few minutes. Lose weight. Feel in control. But I have not got enough will power. I wonder if it helps to cut yourself. There must be something behind it if so many people do it.

Once again, I consider shaving all of my hair off to see if I feel different. I like change.

I feel lonely, but as usual, I'll make it through. One day I'll be happy and not just in survival mode.

I look at my kids and feel thankful for them. Then they let out  some ear-piercing screech and I feel like sending them to bed in a little while. I know I'll go to bed tonight and sleep on another argument. Time is suppose to heal everything. I just need 8 hours to a new day. I'll be at school all day, and the only time I'll have to feel like this is on my way home. Then I'll walk into the kids room and kiss their warm sweet cheeks, and want to just lay there and sleep with them but know that Zaurie or Zavie will be kicking me all night and I won't get any rest. 

I won't be posting this. It'll be in my saved pile. Tomorrow will be a another day another post. A better day a better post (maybe).

I live in a complicated situation. I think about what it would be like to have an affair. Not for the sex part, but for some emotional closeness with someone. For someone who won't say I'm stupid, illogical, irrational for my beliefs that are so different from theirs. Who won't automatically see my actions as "attacking" their actions.

Just another day.

When I begin to think about things I stress myself out. When Scrooge was pouting about something the other night he locked the bedroom door at bedtime. Instead of letting myself feel all stressed and pissed. I decided not to. I made the conscious decision to not react to it. I almost did, but then I remembered my decision to stop biting into his moods. I have decided that since he seems to enjoy confrontation....I will refuse to give it to him if I possibly can. I can have kind of strong opinions and a stubborn streak at times, so this will take some work on my part. I managed to take my favorite blanket that I keep on my favorite napping/reading couch and have a nice, quiet, snore-free night. I didn't knock even one time. I had my computer and school work in the little office area where the couch is, so I was quite comfy. As a matter of fact, I am debating moving into that room to avoid the snores and his alarm clock on the days when he has to get up earlier than me. 

I had started feeling a little proud of Scrooge. I found out he was seeing a counselor on his own (or says he has been) and thought I saw a change in him, but I could see about a week ago thing were sliding back into an old pattern. I figured it was only a matter of time before he bottomed out and had to have something go wrong. I was right. But this time I had a clearer picture on some things. It started out with him talking about how for the first time in years he was feeling extremely energized. But I knew this wasn't the first time because he's said the exact same thing a few times within the last year or so. I also see him get draggy and snippy before he has to "vent". I started putting together a pattern. I really think he may be bi-polar. I have no qualifications to make this diagnosis, but it's just a suspicion. It would explain so much about him. Except that he's not like this with the kids. I can't speak for him around others because I've not spent more than a week all together with him in any social setting in the whole 6 years we've been together. Unless you want to count all the OB appointments we've been to. Hopefully, if he is seeing a counselor, he's being truthful and will get some help if that is the case.

I paid for a 3 month online subscription to weight watchers. I've followed it before and was successful but then pregnancy and depression took care of that success. Now I need to try to lose the 10 pounds I've gained in the last year...and then the other 20 pounds of "baby weight" I never lost. Since my youngest is 3 I can't REALLY call it baby weight...except...I can because it's on my ass and I can call it what I want to. Now if Weight Watchers can just sell some glue to glue my lips closed enough to only allow a straw in I should be down a few sizes in no time.

I live such an exciting life I just had to share this totally useless and rambling post. You're welcome.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

The good and the bad

In the spirit of trying to make good on my NY Resolution I've made a few "confession" post. Then I decided that that seems to be the slant on all my post lately, so I think I need to write a post about the good things about me too and not ONLY the bad.

Believe me, I have my issues and skeletons and plenty of them, but I also have plenty of good things about me too.
1. I am surviving PPD and depression.
2. I have been through a lot of bad things, but I've came through without turning into a bitter hag (umm..mostly)
3. I am open-minded and non-judgemental to everyone and always try to give them the benefit of the doubt.
4. I am a very empathetic person.
5. I can make a mean fried pork chop and gravy.
6. I'm loyal to a tee, and will NEVER spread gossip. If someone tells me something then I'm not going to repeat it unless I know it's something that's ok to tell.

My little Zavie turns 3 years old tomorrow. It seems like I was just holding him as a newborn in my arms a few days ago. I cherished those first couple days that I had alone with him (for the most part) in the hospital because I knew that with a 13 month old and 26 month old at home I wouldn't have much one on one time with him. Scrooge was scared for the girls to be in a hospital room for too long..they MIGHT TOUCH A COUCH OR A WALL....OR EVEN WORSE.....THEY MIGHT SIT ON THE FLOOR. So they left fairly early on the evening that we had Zavie in order to get the girls home in bed, and only came for a couple hours the next morning and evening, and then the morning we were to go home.

My baby is growing up so fast...on the bright side. Hopefully, this will be the year of no more diapers. :)

Monday, January 23, 2012

Say no to Bullies....MKLI writing prompts

I'm writing this post in response to a prompt from mamakatslosinit.com. Try it. It's easy as pie. Just pick your prompt. Write the post. Then go to mamak's on Thursday and link back. Lastly, don't forget to leave some nice comments for the other bloggers. :)

I chose:  4) Describe a time you saw someone getting picked on.

When I was in Middle School (about 12/13 years old) the kids from our area would have to ride their various buses to the local elementary school where we had to wait, in what was used as the music room, for a couple other busses to come, pick us up, and then transport us to either middle school, high school, or the special education school. There was one  family who always had a couple of special needs foster kids in their care most of the kids only stayed for a couple months.  Two of the foster kids were with them for at least 2-3 years. Benita was 15/16 and had the mentality of around a 7/8 year old. The other girl, Carol, was around 8 and she was more like a 4/5 year old. I was one of the only kids who didn't gripe and complain when the bus was full and I had to sit in the front seat with them. I even volunteered a couple times to not have to hear all the bitching from the others. My grandfather was blind, so I was use to being around people with disabilities. Also, my dad had always taught me to NEVER make fun of people who were disabled...from a very early age. Ir's one of the things I remember him specifically addressing several times when I was too little to really understand. It's one of the first things (rules) that I can remember him telling me as a kid. Whatever he said obviously had an impact on my young mind, and for whatever reason stuck with me, and I could never see myself picking on anyone (well, other than normal stuff little kids did to each other like "liar liar pants on fire" or some such whenever we got mad during a game of kick ball or four-square.

There was always these two guys who thought it was fun to torment them and try to make them cry. They were always teasing them, and back in those days I guess bus drivers really didn't get involved unless there was a physical fight. Anyway, about a week into the 2nd school year these guys started up again. They caused Benita to cry after she had started her period and a large spot of blood was showing on her light blue pants. I was so angry. I stood up and told them to shut up and leave her alone because she can't help it. Don't be an A*(*&*!!!!  Of course, then the fire of the dragon came down on me, but I didn't care. I thought they were idiots, and didn't care if they liked me or not. Later they realized they couldn't get a reaction from me and left me alone. I'd like to say that they left Carol and Benita alone after that. They did let up but didn't leave them completely alone. I began talking to Carol and Benita and tried to make it a point to do that on a daily basis. Even if I didn't sit with them I would always try to say "hi, how are you?" I treated them like I would have my little cousins. In truth, I guess I was always a champion for the underdogs way back then, and whatever drove those feelings drive my loathing of any kind of intolerance.

Carol, the youngest girl, never talked that much. One day soon, after that one day I stood up for Benita,  she arrived at the little room one morning where we would wait for our bus. She had picked a little dandelion and ran inside and gave it to me and a hug without any warning or saying anything. Even at 13 and being concerned with looking "cool" and feeling a little embarassed about a "public hug" I almost cried. I am still happy that I could have had that much effect on her and I hadn't even realized it. I guess I was the only one who had made the effort to be nice. I occasionally wonder where they are now and how they're doing.

The Flip Side:
When I was 14/15 there was a girl (my age) who several people picked on. People I wanted to be friends with. I picked on her for about 3 days over the course of one week. I don't even remember what had sparked all the teasing this particular week. For the reasons I mentioned above, I felt horrible, and confessed to my dad what I had done, and that I felt really bad about it. He said that I needed to apologize, and not just apologize, but if I wanted it to seem sincere I should make the effort to be her friend...that is, if she would even want to be friends with me after that. The next day I saw her, standing to herself as usual, and I approached her. The look on her face as I approached makes me sick to think of now. I could see she thought I was there to pick on her. I still can't stand to think about that look and that I could have treated someone that way. I told her that I was sorry. That I should not have said those things. They weren't true and I just wanted to be mean to try to look like I fit in. She accepted my apology. We were never best friends...but we were friends. I apologized to her more than once during the next year until we stopped seeing each other. If I remember correctly her father got a different job and they had to move, but anyway that is one of the things in my life I've been most ashamed of.

Even though I apologized and we became friend, I know it could never be enough to make up for my actions. Once the damage is done, it's done. I have nightmares of being called to some "Look At Me NOW" talk show with a bunch of other kids from around that time and her letting us all know of the emotional pain and trauma we caused that caused her life to spiral down until she made up her mind to change it. I feel hypocritical to even worry about any embarasment that would  cause to me in my adult life for those past actions. I'd want to scream "that wasn't the true me". "Look at the other kids I HAD taken up for" and stuff like that. I couldn't justify it like that though because her truth was that we HAD hurt her. I think to myself "what if she had taken her life during that time?" It would have been because of me, us, them. And for what? For myself, I can't understand how I could choose to do something (I KNEW it was wrong) to hurt someone else. Who knows the motivation for the other kids.

 I do know that maybe it was another thing that pushed me into being someone who is so much against intolerance and being mean to others. I also think that these events helped shape me into a person who was somewhat of a "loner:. I didn't want to be led by feelings to "fit in" so badly by people I was surrounded with that I would participate in such behavior...or any behavior that's kind of "band-wagonish".

I'm thankful that my dad taught me to be kind to others. I'm glad (except for that one instance) that I took his words to heart. (too bad I never took his "Pay Attention in Class " speech as seriously).  I guess maybe it 's because being kind was just something that was focused on almost more than anything. I still value that today, and I do all I can to never take a stance against someone who treats others badly. Like the old saying "If you can't say anything nice, don't say it at all".  It's bad enough to think about my actions knowing that I apologized and tried to be a friend and never teased/bullied anyone after that, I can't imagine how I would feel if I had been like one of those guys who constantly picked on Benita, Carol, and many others.

The worst part of it is that I KNEW how it felt to be picked on because I was on the "outside" too. It's not like I had no awareness of how it felt. I knew for those few days what she felt, but I pushed it to the back of my mind to not think about it. And for what? To please the very kids, who grew into people, that I had no desire to be friends with. (and vice versa I'm sure). Kids who liked different things than I did. Kids who liked different things than I did after we grew up. I wish someone would've turned to me and said "shut up and leave her alone..she's done nothing to you." She needed a voice too.

Before leaving high school I still had moments of struggling with not really fitting in, but I never felt the need to bully because of it.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

All dogs go to heaven....MKLI writing prompts

It's time to participate in the writer's workshop over at mamkatslosinit.com again. Get your prompts every monday. Write about it. Link up at Mamakat's on Thursday. Stop by a few more links to leave a comment or two. It's really fun.

My prompt choice is :
2) List 5 dogs from my lifetime. Write about why one sparks stronger memories in you than others.
This prompt was especially easy for me since my grandfather loved beagles and he bought and traded many while I was growing up. He was blind, and one of his only past times was walking through the woods and listening to his "hunting" dogs. I truly think they always just chased their own shadows since they sounded like they were just running in circles around us and would reappear every 10  minutes or so. They weren't trained to actually catch anything, but to follow the trail of rabbits. While it doesn't sound like so much fun to me I guess back in the days of having no cable/satellite tv/inernet and not able to read then my grandpa's choices for passing time was limited. Especially since he liked doing things himself. Anyway......
1. Rocky- a bull dog who my dad had
2. Dinky- a Huskie mix who showed up at our house when she was a puppy. blue-eyed,cute, & fluffy
3. Joe- a bird dog..the smartest dog I ever had
4. Heck- my grandmother saved his life right after he was born
5. Little Bastard...the name I gave to a neighbor's dog 

Little Bastard is definitely the one I have the strongest memories of. I grew up around dogs and really liked them back in the day. It's not that I don't like them now, but I just don't want the responsibility of caring for one, training it, and all that stuff. I'm also scared of getting one that is...umm...not the Brightest Crayon in the Box.
But...Little Bastard....I could.not.stand. that dog. I still can't even though it's about 22 years later. This dog would chase me every single day when I had to walk home from the bus stop. If I rode my bike he barked and chased me. well...maybe I should say she since I think she had puppies at one point. I would take a detour through the little wooded area from the bus stop to my house, and she would still run along the side of the wooded area barking, barking, barking and barking. A few times, I admit that I would carry a stick thinking that if she/he came close enough I was going to protect myself. She was smart enough to not come close whenever I had the little stick. We were having a game of wits, and I think she won because I started riding the bus for an extra 20 minutes just so I could get off the bus on the other side of my house and wouldn't have to pass by her.

Friday, January 13, 2012

When I look back on my childhood living with my dad and grandparents I remember all the good times. I loved my grandparents so much. I hate that my kids with Scrooge don't have any living grandparents. They talk about their grandparents like they're imaginary friends.

My grandmother was not a comedian in any way, but sometimes she was so funny that I still laugh when thinking about some of the things she did. I guess the funny part was that she didn't mean for them to be funny. This is maybe one of those things where you had to be there for it to be funny, but I'm going to tell the story and hope I can convey some of the humor anyway.

When I was around 14 my aunt Barb, my dad,  my grandmother and I all took a Memorial Day trip to Myrtle Beach. We went to Shoney's one day for lunch. There was an all you can eat buffet, but the spaghetti bar wasn't included. I don't even think it was clearly posted, and if it was I don't remember. Everyone was eating their food, and my grandmother was eating spaghetti. A server or manager comes to our table and says "excuse me, mam. but the spaghetti bar isn't included with the regular buffet." My grandmother...who would NEVER want to offend anyone swallows her mouthful of spaghetti (her face is beet red) and asked the man, "Do you want me to put it back?" I think the guy was embarassed by then , or maybe he was pissed because he probably thought she was being a smart-ass, but his face was red as he said, "no, that won't be necessary" and walked away.

If I hadn't known my grandmother so well I would've thought she was being a smart-ass myself. I'm not sure why this was so funny to me then and now, but I can't go to a buffet and see spaghetti and not think of her that day.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Sweeping away the cobwebs

During the Winter Break from school Scrooge and I did a lot of  cleaning/tossing/donating of things around our house. We bagged up who know how many bags of clothes and baby things and a few household things we don't need.

I have to admit that it was a little bitter sweet packing up those baby things because it's a reminder  there will be no more for us. But my depression is getting better, so I wouldn't risk going through PPD again for anything.  Seeing the little swing and sleepers reminded me of sitting up at night watching my babies sleep so that if they quit breathing I could be there to wake them. I remember putting them in the swing on the highest setting while I did sleep...not  because they loved it...but because I had this belief that if they didn't go into a deep sleep then SIDS would be less of a risk. I remember counting the weeks until they would be 1 year old and "officially" past the risk time for SIDS and then counting down another 4 or 5 weeks just to be sure.

 By the time Zavie was born I had a 26 month old in diapers and a 13 month old. They both slept well. All 3 did. But because I always felt my "balance" of time was off I could never rest at night because I would worry about not spending enough time with them instead of cleaning, or I would stay awake trying to clean and get some me time while they slept to have plenty of time with them during the day. Then there were nights with the depression-sparked bouts of insomnia. Is there any wonder I just about drove myself crazy? My breathe still catches when I have those feelings I had when they were newborns.

I would worry about scenarios that could happen to them. I had some friends whom I had went to church with for several years.  They had two wonderful, outgoing, seemingly healthy daughters ages 12 and 10. The 12 year old was awesome in competitive gymnastics. She hurt her knee during a practice and when the swelling and pain hadn't went down after a month and she developed a fever her parents took her back to the Dr. An MRI (?) revealed she had a tumor on her knee. It was a  very aggressive type of cancer. First they amputated her leg, but after only 4 months she had passed away.

I heard some of our friends comment about how they would never be able to live in that situation. They would give up and die along with their child. That the parents had to be the strongest people ever to continue on. I just always thought something about that just didn't sound right to me. I mean. They had another daughter they loved just as much. I think they really didn't have a choice. It's not that they were "strong" but they had a purpose. It was a purpose that they could see and place their strength in. How horrible to even be put in that situation.

For others it may be something else. For me, when I thought I just couldn't take anymore in the lowest times of having PPD, it was knowing that I had to try to make it just one more hour. one more day. for my kids. My thoughts were so clouded that I just don't understand how I managed to hang onto that one little thread. They were my purpose.

Those darkest times are gone for good I hope. The clothes along with the  swings I used to try to chase those worries away at night are also gone for good. .

Hopefully, I'll have  a chance to help someone who is going through some or all of these things above. Even if it's just giving them a chance to vent without adding my 2 cents worth.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Confession #2

My second attempt at letting people know the "real" me.

When I was young. Maybe around 4 or 5 I was molested by a cousin who was 6 years older than I.  Back in the early 1970's there just wasn't a lot of emphasis placed on telling young kids they should tell a grown-up if someone is touching them inappropriately. At least not that I was aware of. This happened a few times over the years. I never told anyone because the cousin told me my dad would be very upset with both of us and maybe even do something to get himself in trouble if he found out. I was raised by my father, grandmother and grandfather. SInce my father was my world I was terrified to do anything to make him angry at me (if I had kept that attitude through high school I would've certainly been better off). Anyway, I never told. It happened again when I was 12/13 but not to the same extent. It happened again when I was 15.

When I was 16 the cousin asked my grandparents if he could live with us for a while. He didn't have a car. I had just got my license a month or so before he moved in. My grandmother would want him to take care of something for her, or he may want a ride, so she would say he could ride with me. I really had no way of suddenly wanting to not drive without it looking strange and causing questions. No one had ever had "the talk" with me. I knew the facts, but just because of the silence I knew there was something wrong with having sex with someone when you're young especially a cousin. It happened a couple times on this 30 minute drive to wherever we were going in the closest town. We lived in a very rural area, so there were plenty of opportunities.

I really wasn't equipped to handle a situation like this. I wasn't allowed to date yet, so I was given no hints on how to handle someone becoming "touchy feely". I think at this time I was kind of resigned to it. Let's just get it over and get on with life was my attitude. I don't know why some instinctive part of me didn't kick in to put a stop to it. He was VERY persistent even when I did say "no" and pushed back. I felt weird and intimidated. At 16, I thought my lack of fight was a sign that I was as guilty as he was and somehow wanted it. I became pregnant. I knew I was pregnant. I had no one to tell. I wouldn't have told because I was worried my dad would be mad at me or go after him, and once again...my dad was all I felt like I had. I had no idea of where to turn. I was sick a lot and looking back I guess I had hypermesis (?). I lost about 15-20 pounds due to morning sickness so I actually looked like I was losing weight instead of being pregnant. I would force myself to eat something so my grandmother wouldn't think I was starving myself then go outside and secretly barf my head off. Sometimes I would take a walk into the woods on our walking trail until just out of sight and lay down and feel sick...I wanted them to think I was exercising to help lose weight. Too bad there was no internet back then..my life would've been soooo much easier. I was so stressed from this secret knowing that I had to tell somehow someway.

Finally, when my father and I had an argument about me saying the word "raunchy" something snapped and I said..." You think me saying THAT is bad? well, guess what dad! I'm pregnant!" This is where the saying of  "you could hear a pin drop" was invented. It got that quiet. I realized what I had done and was immediately filled with guilt and scared because of the look I saw on my dad's face. Not scared of physical punishment but of his shame.  Now that I 'm older I know it was shock, hurt, and disappointment...but not necessarily at me. THEN, at 16, I could only think of how I had just hurt my only  parent. I knew enough to know that people go to jail for doing violent things to others. I knew that I couldn't let my dad go to jail because of hurting someone over me...so I just acted like it had been something I had been ok with participating in. I figured he could only be so upset if it had been my fault.

Two weeks after I told him I was pregnant I went into premature labor at 24 1/2 weeks. I had my son. I was all alone in the labor and delivery room the whole time because I was too embarassed by the act of giving birth to want any of my family to see me. I had a natural child-birth because any medications could harm my son who was premature, and in 1988, had little to no chance of surviving anyway. I had no idea of what labor was like except that a baby was somehow going to have to come out DOWN THERE. I didn't expect there to be blood so I thought I was going to bleed to death when the Dr. checked me and I saw his hand was covered in blood.  I was too scared to scream....I was  scared silent. (it's kind of funny now that I think of my reaction). I saw my son for the first time although I didn't get to hold him. I heard him cry for the first and last time until about 4 weeks later when he had the ventilator removed. He weighed 1 lb. 15 oz. He was 13 inches long. I automatically loved every little inch and ounce of that little boy. I knew that I would do whatever I could to protect him. The Dr.s said he had a slim chance of making it past 48 hours. He made it. On the 3rd day when his lung collapsed and he had a small brain hemmorage that this could be it. He made it. They said that any of these things and just the fact of his prematurity meant he would have a high chance of having severe long term physical and mental issues. Unless stubborness is included he made it through with none of those problems.

But back to 1988. I had to keep up all the lies because my son was involved. How could I ever tell my child he was a result of molestation and sexual abuse by someone who had been messing with me since I was little? I couldn't. I had to pretend that I had loved this person. I mean it's weird. He was my family, so I still felt like he was family and had that kind of love for him...but NOT the kind of love it takes to want to have sex and a baby with someone. I didn't see any way around making the best out of a bad situation if I loved my son.

Now I certainly don't want to give the impression that I was innocent as a teen. I was sneaky and  smoked cigarettes. I skipped school. I would have probably had sex at an early age once I was allowed to date. I may have even became pregnant early. The chances are very high that I would've I guess because of my need to want to feel accepted. BUT it would NOT have been with a cousin.

Until not too many years ago I occasionally struggled with feelings of guilt such as "you IDIOT...you were SIXTEEN...old enough to have known to have told someone...fought harder..something...anything". But I know these are not reality. I was young. I was the victim. I did the best with the knowledge I was equipped with at the time. Just having a child with a cousin is embarassing. People would probably think that I believe it's ok to have sex and kids with family members and brothers, uncles, etc... I don't. I never did. I never do. I never told anyone this unless I had to for some reason. It was humiliating.

I never expected Scrooge to ever meet enough of my family to need to know this. I never told him my son's father was a cousin. I should have. He was very angry at me for  not being truthful with him when he did find out about a year into the relationship. I hadn't meant to leave such an important detail out. I just hadn't saw the need to tell him at first . Then when I became preggo with Zindie my focus was on other things. I just didn't think about telling him. I truthfully didn't set around thinking about how I had a child with a cousin all the time. I had hoped to push it to the back of my mind and forget it forever. Truthfully, I was  not even thinking about it at that time....especially since we had been separated for almost 8 years. Anyway, on the day of my Aunt's funeral  he found out and packed his and ZIndie's things and was going to leave with her. He calmed down and stayed, but he never understood that it was such a personal thing, and that the situation was so difficult for me to think about let alone talk about, that I hadn't told him. I guess I can understand that. I try to place myself in his place and not judge. I wish he could have done the same. I still hear all about it to this day...years later.

 The stuff above was not really my confession. My confession is that I married my cousin. For 8 years I was married to my cousin until I couldn't deal with his alcohol addiction any longer. In many states this is legal. It's not a crime to marry a cousin. I never broke the law, but I MARRIED my cousin. My reasons may have been what I thought were good reasons. BUT it still doesn't look or sound good either way I look at it, or say it. I hate it. I wish it was the one thing I could take back. I love my son and am thankful for him. I wouldn't want him to be anyone different. BUT why, WHY, WHY??? to be molested is bad enough. To be molested by a family member is bad enough. But to marry this person? I did what I felt was right based on what I had learned throughout my life as far as trying to smooth over family issues, but it wasn't a good decision.

So that is my confession #2. A little messier than the first confession, but the whole ugly truth.

Ps. I am truly as ok with the sexual abuse as anyone ever could be. I've had therapy to deal with it. The questions and not understanding will never go away, but I think it made me smarter and stronger after I dealt with it. I have even tried to find forgiveness for my cousin, my son's father, who did that to me. I think I have forgiven him because I realized he had some serious issues and may have even been molested himself. I will never forget though. I do wish he could somehow confess it to the rest of our family. I would like to clear the air and let my family know that I'm NOT ok with it and I didn't enjoy or choose it freely. I have never brought it out into the family because I know the victim is often doubted. Families get angry and take sides. What would be the point in bringing it up now? I wish he would do it though.  He's disgusting and hasn't changed though. My son said his dad had even called his (my son's girlfriend) after my son moved out and was trying to flirt talk with her.

Monday, January 9, 2012


A post for Mamakat's writing prompts at mamakatslosinit.com.
My choice this week is:

4.) Many of us like to poke fun at some of the things that drive us crazy as parents…let’s flip the script, what are 10 things you love about motherhood?

It's a nice change to focus on the things that I love love love about being a parent instead of thinking about how hard it can be. All the work I need to get done today because I am a mom. 

1. I love waking up to a little, round sleepy face about 3 inches from mine wanting to know if I'm awake yet.
2. I love having my kids just stop in the middle of whatever they're absorbed in to come give me a kiss and hug just because they want to....without my urging or even talking to them.
3. I love going in to watch my babies sleep for a few minutes and listen to their little snores.
4. I love having an excuse to play in the bouncy houses when I take my kids.
5. I love seeing my babies accomplish something they've been trying to do for so long....like when Zaurie  learned to "snap" her fingers.
6. I love watching my kids make new friends.
7. I love how my kiddies can get excited over the simplest things.
8. I love to hear my kid's talking to each other, and giggling, when they think no one is listening.
9. I love seeing the different parts of my, and Scrooge's, personalities show through in what the kids do.
10. I love having someone to play "tickle monster" with..lol


Sunday, January 8, 2012

Confession #1

If you read the post before this one  then you know it was about making a New Year's Resolution to not censor myself on this blog. If you hadn't read it , now you don't have to because I just told you what it was all about. I realize this will make me more vulnerable to verbal assaults if I strike the wrong person the wrong way. I really don't want to scare off any of my 9 followers, but it really wouldn't be fair to let anyone I could possibly become friends with to not know the "true" me. Friendship should be based on honesty and acceptance....OK...I'm off the soapbox now on to the confessions.

CONFESSION #1.   I was raised as a Christian. However, my family was never big on going to church until I was about 8 or 9, when my father was invited to church and became "saved". I won't go into a description. If anyone doesn't understand what saved means in the context of religion then it's easy enough to google it.

As far as I know, all my family are Christians, or hold Christian beliefs, and some are more active in church than others. My favorite uncle, for instance, is a Baptist Pastor, and is one of the most humble and  kind people I've ever known. As I was a young adult on my own, I attended church through out the years. I eventually ended up at a "Full-Gospel" almost Pentecostal church. At some point in my life I realized that I had these beliefs because I had always been told to believe them. Just like a family tradition that's handed down from generation to generation so was the idea that there was God, his son Jesus who died for us, and the Holy Spirit.

For lots of reasons and through many struggles I lost my faith that there is "God". I became Agnostic (not knowing if there was or was not some type of "higher-power" somewhere). I believe in the fundamental values and morals in most religions and Philosophies like treating others nicely etc...

I don't mock anyone's religion. I don't mind talking with anyone about it.  I promise to not try to convert you if you don't try to convert me. My family doesn't really have any idea because I wouldn't want them to worry, and I know how much some of them would if they knew. I bow my head in silence during prayer ceremonies. I just don't participate. I don't omit the word "God" in the pledge or anything like that. (Even though I feel I should have the right to do so if I wish.)

I realize that many Christians feel that they can't really associate with non-believers on a personal level, so I realize that some of my followers may not want to keep following me, but I hope that doesn't end up being the case. So, that's enough confessions for one day...see you in a day or two (I hope :). First day back to school tomorrow

btw...the reason I use Christians as an example above is because that's just the religion I grew up with and know.

Monday, January 2, 2012

True To My Word....MKLI writing prompts

Ok...now it's time to participate in Mama kat's weekly writing prompts. You can click on her badge above and it'll take you over to her place.

I chose prompt #5 which was:  "Okay okay I have to ask...what are your New Year's Resolutions for 2012 and/or how did 2011's resolutions turn out?"

In the past I have made the usual New Year's Resolutions. Lose Weight. Exercise. Do something on my bucket list. Take a class..... I can't even remember if I actually remembered to do any of them past the first few days of January. I don't usually bother making them anymore. However, I did make one this year kind of in jest, but hopefully, I'll actually pull this one off. As with all Resolutions only time will tell. 

My 2012 Resolution was in a post I wrote back on November 28, 2011 titled "Can't think of a title..or content...so anyway". My resolution was to spice things up around this blog a little as far as content goes.

I value everyone's right to have their own opinion. I enjoy being able to have my own...even if they don't always fit in with other's views. So I plan to make sure that I don't do too much sensoring of what I really feel about things I write about because these are my own opinions and my own blog. That should be a fairly simple goal...I hope.

Happy New Year !!!