alone

I have a lot on my mind. I guess most people can say that most of the time. For me today has been especially challenging. My own morale challenges that of everyday living all of the time. When it constantly has to look in the face of the people that we are related to, it gets seriously imposed upon.

The sad truth is that we have no parents. My mother died... my Dad is an alcoholic that has rarely been involved in my life. Bryson's mother and father are on again off again meth addicts (long separated- with other children). The even harder truth is that there is and has never been a connection or any exchange of love. The depths of my motherly soul that care for my children in that way, have NOTHING in common with any parent me or my husband are realted to.

I have a whole lot of positive in me. I have to. I take the best from the worst and I am so... so... so thankful, humble, and proud (if those all can be possible together) to be here today and to be me.

I am also regrettably struggling with the WHYS. Why can't I have one solid and consistent family member? Why is all of the wisdom of my elders already dead and simply a memory? Why is there no one who I can talk to and rely on for information, guidance, and support?

Living is hard work. Living and looking back at my past is really hard work. I know I am not weak and I know I have overcome a lot to create this life, but sometimes.... just sometimes... I get tired, and I wish there was someone I could just talk to and trust and look up to. Someone constant and predictable that WANTS to be a part of my life... that cares about my tomorrow. A mom or a dad or a grandparent, aunt, uncle, RELATIVE.

It is so hard for me that I do not know or speak to anyone that knew my mother or grandma (besides evil step gma that I don't speak to) that can even verify they existed. That feels so surreal. I cannot even talk about, or verify my experiences because no one was there... they were cremated so no grave to remember them. Its all up to me and my memories.

I have Bryson (and so thankful don't get me wrong) and I have a few very close friends (peers), but is it so wrong to want and need my mother, my grandma, a PARENTAL FIGURE between us both?

I feel so alone.

Have you seen my words?

I know I asked something like, what if I just thought I might vomit words and you would see 3 blogs in one day? Well today this is 2 and 3 just might happen later. I know where all my thoughts are- I think. I just can't seem to find my words.

I was so tired and was sure today would be a total wash. I found my way into the computer chair a few short hours after proclaiming my disgust with the day and just started to read. I read sad things, and hopeful things. I read stories of triumph and stories of disappointment. I read seemingly meaningless rants about daily life filled with humor and sarcasm. I'm sure I could write a whole page of the types of things I found sitting here in this chair, staring at this screen, reading. Today I was a student, thirsty for answers, and what wonderful answers I found.

Then without even thinking about it, I started feeling. I realized the sheer mangintude of what any one person writes. How important it became in my day of self pity to allow myself to be affected by others and simply feel.

So many things to consider. People considering their own place in life, their worth, their esteem, their sexuality, their weaknesses, their sobriety, their addiction, their strengths, life's blessings, illness, births, deaths, beginnings, ends.

I find myself asking myself, "Why am I here?"

I know I am looking to grow and continue learning. I don't find myself looking particularly for change. I find myself quite content with my life as it is. What is it? What is so sacred about my insanity? Why do I even consider myself insane?

I guess to societal standards, my behaviors and mental patterns can be abnormal. Thing is, I happen to like who I am and what I think and I also happen to think society is where the majority of abnormal behaviors and patterns lie.

I am a simple person, born of a complicated life. I have experienced far too many extremes for many people to consider, yet I have experienced extremely easily attainable staples in life that many people will never see.

I do not take for granted such things as shelter, warmth, food, hot water, love, and hot tea. I do not ever desire such things as wealth, prosperity -as defined as economic well being, or predictable stability created only to shelter me from the world.

I enjoy overcoming obstacles. I seek to have new experiences. I like taking reasonable risks. I like creating manageable mistakes for my children to learn from and teaching them about life. I hope they will never have materialistic values. I hope they will always have love to give deeply and meaningfully and be strong form within their hearts because of the love and honesty our family provides.

I don't ever spend a minute hoping for them to make a certain amount of money, or have a certain family, go to a collage of certain prestige, or achieve anything specific. I hope simply they have the courage to follow their dreams- actually first I hope they have the courage to dream, and will always work diligently to provide for themselves to whatever standard suits them, without taking advantage of another person's weaknesses. You could not pay me enough money in the world to spend 40 hours away from my children, selling someone something they don't need because it gives me a paycheck. I would hope my kids would never lower themselves to such a life either.

I don't even understand what happens in families where children are devastated because they have let their parents down. I take pride in knowing that my kids see failure as an opportunity to learn and look to me as their teacher. Even though I can only teach from experience and not education, I teach from heart and I look to always teach truth. I encourage my children to learn the things I did not, because I was too emotionally involved in life to actually get my education.

I have been too tired to come here and write for a little while. I was reverting back to the feelings of fear that come from when Social Services tried telling me I was unfit to be a mother. I realize, just as I did then, that my strengths come in proving myself to myself, not to another.

I start to question myself because I am at such a comfortable place in life. I am happily living and I am surrounded by people that love me and appreciate me. It might be a small group, us 5, but my family is quite self contained. They do not push me to do more because they love me for who and what I am. I like to be the support person. I like to find answers to their problems or better yet- help them find answers. The isolation I start feeling is because I see so many people I know struggling. Fighting to live happily, dealing with abuse, addiction, no support system, not enough money to support an unrealistic and unneeded means, and it seems to be far more normal and I start to ask myself what am I doing wrong.

Why don't I fight with my husband? How come he still loves me when I wear sweats for a week? How come I am just as happy in this home as I was living in a motel? Why is my old mini van just as good as the new SUV I gave up when I couldn't afford it? How can we still be a solid family when we don't have credit? don't have a mortgage? aren't in debt? don't have credit cards? How come my sex life is still great even when I can't afford to get my hair and nails done? How can I enjoy shopping at GASP a thrift store? How come my best friend wears designer jeans and still loves me? Why does cheap wine make me just as happy as expensive wine? How do I manage to give up just enough without losing myself and my family happily does the same? Where in the world did I get self esteem?

The front page of just about any woman's magazine promises to fix all of these problem's that I just don't have. So what is WRONG with me?

The answer is nothing. Nothing for ME. I am living how I want to and why I want to. My world can seem a little dark and lonely sometimes, free from the influences of media and propaganda. It isn't weighed down by wants of material possessions OR void of accomplishments. It is the simple life of a mother and a life teacher. The whole world may not be my students, but teaching 3 is good enough for me.

I think I found my words.

'mon mommy, come on

It has been a challenging couple of days filled with stressful events, people moving in and out (literally), and some serious accusations outside of the family..... and blogging is not compatible with a 2 year old still up at 1:11 am asking for cereal followed by mommy snuggles in bed with her. Guess I will have to enjoy my midnight cheerios and some baby snuggles and come back later :)

"I'm excited toooo"

I am not sure, but I think that quite possibly 2 year olds must be the most joyful entertaining creature in the world... quite likely by design in order to make up for the moments when you want to pull your hair out and hide from them!

My (almost) 2 year old, Victorya, definitely pulls on my happy heart strings all the time. Her beautiful little perfect curls are always swaying happily whether she be singing her cutest ever version of "Happy Birthday" (she sings it in a looong heavy voice that sounds like Marilyn Monroe when she serenaded J.F.K), or whether she is reaching on her tippy toes to throw the poor kitten over the banister, flailing 15 feet to the ground, much to Victorya's delight.

It is almost impossible to get mad at her when her bright beautiful eyes bat at you and she shrugs her little shoulders, her little chubby fingers entwined on her lap.

Luckily for me, she provides many more moments filled with joy and laughter- the kind of deep heart felt belly laughs that leave you in tears and grasping for breath.

At this point, she seems to learn or mimic something new several times a day. Sponge is an understatement. Chamois, is more like it. She picks up on everything. Of course as a parent you have to always be aware that little ears are present, because you never really know how much goes in, but can'y quite come out in verbal expression yet.

Today we were eating lunch at a restaurant while the older kids were in school. It was me and my husband and Victorya. We ordered our meals and ordered her mac and cheese and went out on a limb and got her mandarin oranges.

See, Victorya is a picky eater. I always believed that a picky eater was a direct result of parents that allowed their children too many options. My older children ate ANYthing as children- and still do. Victorya is different. She has a huge sensitivity to weird textures; things that are slimy, too wet, leafy, etc. She also will not eat ANYthing green. Not even green candy. We have tried letting her go hungry when she refused whole meals because of thier vegetable content and she has a will of iron! She will skip a meal and then still decline at the next meal if it does not appease her.

We have even gone so far as to hide one, I repeat, ONE pea in her pasta, or mashed potatoes, and without fail she will discover it and spit it out. We have had to quit doing this because now she doesn't trust us and must look through every bite to make sure there is no single, super secret pea. We are on what seems like an endless journey to find whatever fruits and vegetables we can that she will eat.

So back to our lunch. Lunch arrives and she quickly takes her fork and stirs through the mac and cheese meticulously checking for peas. Then she takes one little slice of mandarin orange and picks it up and inspects it. Of course both me and my husband are almost holding our breath, yet still trying to converse as normal, while looking out the corner of our eyes. She puts it to her nose and smells it (gasp) and then she puts it to her toungue...... and...... and.... our hopes are dashed. She makes that horrible face and quickly dismisses the orange...... sigh.

By the end of the meal, I decide I do not want to let her oranges go to waste and start picking at them. In one last desperate attempt, I try reverse psychology.

"YuuuuuuuuuMMMM! These are the BEST oranges I have EVER had! They are soooooooooo yummy and they are MINE!" I say with as much expression and exaggeration as I can.

I see her get that look on her face. The one when another child picks up her favorite toy and begins to play with it as if it were their very own. The one that says, "um excuse me, what do you think you are doing?"

My husband quickly follows suit and picks up his own delectable little mandarin orange and begins to engage in his own wonderful display of parental drama.

We are both so full of anticipation that I can hardly stand it. Slowly her chubby little finger reaches into the bowl and her hand fully occupies it. She doesn't want us in HER oranges. We both show our sadness and disappointment that we cannot eat any more delicious oranges.

....and then ....she picks one up ...still staring at us both suspiciously. Slooooowly she takes the orange and again she smells it. My husband again pronounces his undying LOVE of yummy oranges, and then...... and then....... she puts it in her mouth..... and she CHEWS it.... and she SWALLOWS it!

OMG, I almost want to cry. I actually feel a little bit of tears welling in my eyes. I look at my husband, who is happy, but obviously not as emotional as I am, because now he is looking at me like I hid a pea in his potatoes. I quickly try to recover from the moment and start explaining to him that I am just so happy we found a fruit that she likes. I explain how its a huge step and maybe we can get her to try some other things.... seeing that he is still astounded by my emotional enthusiasm, I finally say, "I am just so excited she is eating fruit."

Victorya looks at us both, a mandarin orange in both hands, her chubby cheeks bursting with mandarin oranges, her mouth almost too full to let the words escape past the oranges and says, "I'm so excited, toooooooooooooo!"

Simply Complicated ME... a story

the short version ;)

Putting my random thoughts and feelings down always proves to be very therapeutic and thought provoking. I have started putting a lot more thought into what I hope to set forth in my blog, as well as what I might like to look back on a long time from now. I never had a real complicated plan for doing this. As I read through blog after blog today I can see the vast array of blogging conceptions.

I guess my blog was sort of an unplanned for development, as are a lot of things in my life. I realize now that if I do not fill in with some of my everyday life and background, it might be easy to assume I am much more deep and dark than I am light and happy. Most of my deep and dark comes from my past, but surprisingly enough it isn't my present state of being. Although, get me going after a few drinks and an emotional movie or a deep conversation and I am guilty of being emotionally overbearing.

All of that being said, let me introduce you to my background...

My upbringing was anything but traditional. My mother was an only child and she had me at 18. In the late seventies that was a huge shame to a family. She chose a life of drugs, men, and stripping- stringing me along for an occasional wild ride to her work or a bar on our visits.

In her constant absence, I lived with her mother and stepfather, my grandparents. My grandpa had raised her since she was a baby and so he was my real grandfather as far as I knew. He was of Navajo Indian and Spanish decent and my grandma was German and Irish, so I had many cultural influences despite my lack of parental influences. They were also practicing Catholics, and so I was schooled at a strict Catholic school until 8th grade.

This all could have been quite an acceptable upbringing except my mother lost her battle with drugs and depression to suicide in 1986. I was 7. She hung herself, so it was particularly painful for me to understand. This horrible time of sadness intensified when my Grandmother died suddenly of a stroke a very short 34 days after my mother had passed away. Since I was an only child, I was always that very adult socialized child that knew too much and experiencing those deaths with too much adult perception was really hard.

Where did that leave me? With my (step) Grandpa. To me that was the only logical place for me to be. They had owned their house since I was born so it was the only "home" that I knew. What I didn't know is that everyone else but me knew my Grandpa was not my blood. There were immediate fears of it being inappropriate for an older man (he was 68) and a young girl to live alone.

Thank GOD a judge cared enough to ask me where I wanted to go and of course the only place in the world I wanted to be was with my Grandpa. We had just gone through the most devastating loss imaginable and I knew he couldn't read or write so we needed each other. I of course had too much responsibility for a child of (now) 8 years old. My grandpa could not afford to retire because the Race Track had let him go a year short of getting his retirement, so he still had to work. I took on most of what a woman would do. I helped with cooking and cleaning and I wrote out all the checks for our bills and balanced his checkbook. I also was 100% responsible for my school work and papers that came home. He was afraid if people knew he couldn't read or write they would take me away.

My adolescence was really anything but that. I lacked the love and attention of a normal family. My grandpa was afraid to show affection for fear it would be misinterpreted as sexual. he remarried to a family friend that was recently divorced- but it was for my benefit. He thought a woman in the house would solve my problems. It was too late. It didn't take long before I was looking for sexual attention. As you might have read, I was pregnant at 14 and lost the baby late in the pregnancy. It was really hard because everyone was happy for me, but me and the father wanted that baby. We had moved in together. He worked full time (he was 16) and I worked part time and went to beauty school in addition to high school. We had furnished the nursery and had everything we needed by ourselves long before she was born. In retrospect I can see now how hard it would have been, but I was used to taking responsibility so I am sure I could have made it.

We stayed together for 3 years after that. I had gone on to a Lutheran Highschool and they had made me leave while pregnant. I came back after I lost the baby, but me and my boyfriend had gotten out own apartment by the time I was 15. The school found out and demanded I get married as soon as I was legal age. I was still naive enough to think he was the one. So on my 16th birthday, I went and took my driving test and got my license... I drove us to the Justice of the Peace and we got married, I dropped him off at work, and I was back in school by 3rd period.

After I got my license from beauty school, I was instantly offered a job. I started out making around $25 /hr including tips. At 17 this seemed like it was all I would ever need and I thought I could only go up from there. I dropped out of high school with 3 lousy credits left.

We moved to a nicer 2 bedroom apt closer to my work. We had saved a lot of money so I was enjoying furniture shopping and decorating the new place and also loving my new independence from my job and all of the wonderful clients I was meeting. It all ended when I came home early and couldn't find my husband, and moments later he came down form the woman's apartment upstairs high on cocaine and smelling of sex. I wanted to die.

I moved out the next day while he was at work. I never even looked back. My grandparents house was over an hour away from my job and my lack of motivation was compounded by the depression of what had happened. Four years gone.

My next four year relationship started about a year later. His name was Thomas. We were common law married within a year and filed taxes as married- we just couldn't afford a wedding. We had two children. I was on bedrest from 22 weeks on with my son and from 12 weeks on with my daughter. I sat around eating and keeping my babies safe inside. I wasn't going to lose another one. I ballooned up to 316 lbs. I am 6' tall (and no I don't play basketball!).

Our relationship was pretty typical for a Hispanic man who believed a woman's place was in the home and a strong woman who had big dreams and goals. We fought a lot. He belittled me to keep me from thinking I could ever live without him and I resented him for it. Wanting 2 parents for my kids is what kept me there. My grandpa was already 78 and although still working, I knew he would not be there for long. His wife was gold digging nightmare, so i had no hope tehre either. I saw me and Thomas as all my kids had.

My will to have a "family" broke when Thomas hit me. I didn't know what I was going to be, but I knew a lot of things I wasn't going to be. A battered wife and mother was where I drew the line. It's a longer story I will get into in depth one day, but just for the sake of connecting people and events... Thomas died suddenly within a year of us separating. He was 27. Our children only 2 and 4. His death was weight related and besides the overwhelming grief and loss I felt for my children... I now feared I was headed for the same fate.

By this time I was in college full time and working part time. I pursued weight loss surgery with every ounce of my being. It was my only hope. When my grandfather died 8 short months after Thomas I was even more determined. My life was not not going to elude me like evryone else I knew and loved.

I did finally get approved for weight loss surgery. I was at an all time high of 380 lbs. I lost 200 lbs. I had reconstructive surgery (a body lift) to remove 16 POUNDS of extra skin and I also got implants to replace what were once the only sexy thing on my fat body... my boobs. I also had many complications and ended up having 6 surgeries that year. All with a 3 and 6 year old, school and a job, and only a loser boyfriend I cared very little for as support.

Once I was somewhat healthy and stable I kicked him out. I made the stupidest choice ever, and gave up all of my stability to move in with my step-grandma, who was saying she would have to sell my grandpa's house if I didn't help. She promised that if I finished school she would quitclaim the house to me so I could raise the kids there. Lie.

I was getting survivors benefits for my children, so I decided to go to school 15-18 credits at a time. I had failed almost the whole year that Thomas and my grandpa had died and I needed to catch up. My step grandma consumed my life, my time, AND my money. She paid the mortgage- an undisclosed amount, but the house had been bought 25 years earlier. I paid everything else and bought and cooked all the food. I had the kid's in daycare while I was in school and she would only babysit on rare occasion if the kids were asleep first and I came home right away if one of them woke up.

Somehow I still managed to meet Bryson. He was only 21 and not at all anything on my "must have's in a man" list. Somehow we connected right away and within a week we were together all the time. My grandma was very jealous and demanded that if I were to continue seeing him, I move out. So we did. It was kind of scary for me because I was very protective of my kids. He was very caring and helpful and I was still struggling with a lot of physical pain from all of my surgeries and complications. I wanted to jump in head first and enjoy this feeling, but my body would not cooperate and I started abusing pain pills so that I could function.

Pain pills make me sleepy and a sleeping Mom doesn't accomplish much. It wasn't long before we were abusing meth together. We just wanted to have every possible minute together and it was always just "one more time." One more time spiraled quickly down hill into a year. I was down to a disgusting weight of 155. We were living off of my survivors benefits and desperately trying to break away. What I didn't know until it was too late, was that pretty much all of Bryson's immediate family were on again off again meth users.

I blamed him and my paranoia started making me believe he actually conspired to get me to use the drug before he met me. He felt the same way about me. It had come to the point where I knew I had to leave because I could not do to my kids what my mom did. We had lost everything and were living in a hotel room and I was going to take the kids and leave the next time he left. I had asked my step grandma to give the kids a ride to school and pick them up and I was going to trick him into leaving when the kids would be getting back. I was going to plead my case to my grandma that she was all I had and that I needed treatment, and leave Bryson to find his own way.

I didn't get the chance. We were arrested and social services called and my kids taken away and placed with my grandma. It was the hardest time of my life yet. It also changed me and everything about my life. They found drugs in the room and that alone was enough to take the kids. I accepted responsibility for my drug use, but I was NOT going to lose my kids. That day was the last time I ever used meth. I was not allowed at my grandma's house and so me and Bryson came out of jail homeless with only each other. The survivor benefits were immediately transferred to my grandma for the care of the kids.

We lived in motels, then in a tent, then in a homeless shelter for a month. I was sure that without the drugs and money that Bryson would leave. Instead he petitioned the court to be a special respondent in the case and so he met all the same requirements that I had to as a parent. 6 intensive months of classes and therapy, monitored sobriety, supervised visits, and recovery and rehabilitation, I was given back full custody of my kids. I was asked to be a parent partner and help other parents who have lost their kids due to addiction.

We have both been clean since the day we were arrested. Almost 4 years.

Within a month of the kids coming home, we moved into a house and I found out I was pregnant. It was an even more complicated pregnancy than my first two and following more bedrest our daughter was born premature. Today she is a happy healthy toddler, about to turn two. My older kids are extremely caring and bright, helpful and independent. I will always have guilt about what I did. I will always envision a little social worker that believed in me, sitting on my shoulder, telling me not to let them down- ok and maybe sharing space with my grandma, my mother, and my grandpa :) I have had far too much time taken away, lives lost, and caused the most painful 6 mos of my life living without my children, to take anything for granted. Bryson has worked at the same place for 3 years (restaurant and bar industry) and I am a stay at home mom.

Wow can you believe I am done? If you are still here.... thank you... and I hope you will come back.... My adventures are just beginning :)

Seasons Change (me)

This time of year had traditionally been a time of sadness and darkness for me. The milder sunny days, filling up slowly with clouds hinting of fall and the even colder darker winter to come... reflected how I felt on the inside. I had so many associations with all the different sad days of this time of year. The end of August through September hold some birthdays and some death days for my Mom, Grandma, Grandpa, Thomas, and my precious little baby girl.

Over the past few years, Bryson and I have been able to recreate the way this time of year feels for me. He has been a constant person of support when I am sad or lonely. We have made many great family memories and enjoyed the beautiful fall days. I even look forward to what used to be sad, empty, solemn holidays. They are once again a time for family, laughter, and new memories.

Healing takes time and effort. At one point I didn't think it could EVER get better. Reflection brings me peace and a sense of accomplishment for continuing on when I didn't want to. All the little things that made me happy today are like invaluable little tokens for choosing to live when I didn't know why I should. I believe that I will be able to give my kids the right kind of emotional support in life even though I had to find it for myself. That is one of my major life goals. I know it may not compare to the usual life goals like owning my dream home, or being promoted to such and such prestigious accomplished somebody in some company, but it is a more important goal to me.