Only a matter of hours left until we get to wipe our slates clean...

What is your New Year's Eve ritual? I've had the same one for years now. I take about an hour to myself, sit back, and reflect on the last year. Anything that hasn't been said gets written down. Anything that hasn't been mourned is cried over. Anything that hasn't gotten the laughter is deserves is laughed at. But the ritual started with one simple idea: If you can't look back over the last year and shed tears of happiness or sadness, you should consider your whole year emotionless and wasted. I've started the ritual a little early this year, as in, yesterday...and my year has definitely not been wasted.

Things to cry over:

1. Dayton re-proposing in the Fed-ex/Kinko's parking lot.

2. Dayton actually taking the time to design my new engagement ring.

3. Any of the sweet cards Dayton hasn't given me this year

4. The disconnect with my sister

5. Mine and Dayton's anniversary

6. Still not being able to move past 2009

7. The late night talks Dayton and I have had that have brought out the vulnerability in both of us.

8. The things I uncovered (especially about myself) while doing research for an abortion paper.

These are my top 8. I'm sure I'll think of more later. Stay tuned for more "Bests of 2010" lists...

A letter

I'm trying to write this letter, but every time I start to make the least bit of progress, I get frustrated and decide that I want to go in a different direction. How are you supposed to say something so important to someone you hate so much?

Don't ask, Don't tell.

I can't begin to tell you how heated this new "repeal" gets me. Okay, so it's officially okay for our gay and lesbian friends to be open with their sexuality in the military. So, it's officially okay for gays and lesbians to fight and die for our country. Okay, that's great. We're making progress. But I am the only one that thinks it's a little effed up that these people can now die for our country, and yet their partners will not be awarded the same benefits I would if Dayton died in the service? That's not right. It's okay for you to be gay. You're good enough to fight for us. But you're still not good enough to share the same rights and equalities as the rest of us. Sorry.

Please. Start legalizing gay marriage so these people can have the same benefits that the rest of us are entitled to, and I'll be proud.

I doubt very highly that he doesn't remember the answer to so many questions. I do, however, think that he says he doesn't remember in an effort to spare my feelings. I hate it. I have questions. I NEED answers. But hey, it's all in the past, right? Wrong. It's my present.

Should I?

I'm starting to wonder if I'll have ever closure over the one night stand. I'm still angry. I'm still hurt. But it's not big enough to break my marriage anymore. Weird. It's not big enough to break my marriage, just big enough to break me. I'm tired of her constantly being on my mind. I watch her facebook page, but I don't know what I'm watching for. I have only one idea as to what could give me closure. Dayton can't answer my questions because he doesn't remember much from that night. I need answers. Should I contact her? I don't want to speak to her, but I thought maybe I should send her a message on facebook. It seems like the only logical thing to do in my mind, but I'm also terrified that it will open a can of worms. I'm scared it will cause her to contact him. I'm scared her contacting him will cause them to start communicating again. He told her he couldn't talk to her anymore when we got back together, but I have such a hard time seeing him being firm with someone over something like that. He's not the type to hurt feelings or be confrontational. I'm scared he'll be uber pissed, though he doesn't really have the right to be mad. I'm scared she'll be hateful and make the cut even deeper. I'm scared of the details she might tell me. I'm scared I'll look pathetic. I'm just scared to do it. Hell, she may not even reply, and that would probably make me obsess even more. It's an impossible situation. But I don't know how else to get closure. This one night, probably just a matter of a few hours--is ruining my life. It's completely consuming me. It's on my mind, or I'm on her facebook page, I'm questioning him about it, or crying about it...it's got to stop. I've got to do SOMETHING to make it go away. Is this a way to be proactive about it? Should I contact her? Ugh. I hate hoe bags.

I can't believe the year is almost over. It seems like it has just begun. A year ago, I thought I'd be in such a different place by now. That the fact that my husband fucked another woman wouldn't bother me anymore...that I wouldn't be stalking her fb profile and asking myself "What the hell?!". But hey, I am. And at the same time, I'm not really mad at him about it anymore. I'm more mad at myself for not letting it go. The mind is a bitch.

11 days and counting...

Not that I'm counting or anything. Dayton has been working for the Toys for Tots marines this year. The last two weeks have gotten really bad. It's rare that he's home before 7:30pm, never so much as get a call or text, and TONIGHT, he gets to go "work" at an ICP concert. What am I doing? Staying home with the kids. Just like I have every single day for the last two weeks, lol. Oh, let me also add that he's working 7 days a week now. There's NEVER any time for us to do annnnnything as a family...unless we go to an event together. Which basically consists of me chasing the kids around while he stands there by a big box.

Meanwhile, it seems some long hidden family secrets have started to unravel. It's driving me crazy. Every single person in the family knows whatever it was that happened, except me. And it wouldn't really matter to me considering that whatever happened, happened while I was a baby and even before I was born....but I missed out on 2 brothers and 2 sisters in the process. And with one of those sisters now being dead, how do I ever get the chance to have that relationship? I don't.

And ahhhh, the joys of finals....NOT. At this very moment, I have 1 1/2 pages to go on one..and only about oh, I don't know, 900 WORDS on the other!! *Sigh* However, it looks like I'm passing both classes, so it's not all bad.

My baby girl is officially 4 years old. I can't tell you how much it stings every time the thought crosses my mind. Four is like the officially age of "childhood". Three is the last year of "toddler-hood"...so my baby girl is no longer a baby. She's officially a little girl. Ugh. *Tears*...And of course, my little man is now 1. He'll be 13 months tomorrow. I can't believe how fast it's flown.

Well, there are my latest updates. I'll try to start updating more regularly.

Why is it that sickness always finds me at the most inopportune times?

Oh my goodness. I think I have food poisoning. The silver lining is that although Dayton had to work today, he took ZoeJane with him. So I've got it a little easier with only one kiddo at home today. Meanwhile, as SOON as he walks through the door, I'll be putting my happy ass back to bed. I've got to be back with the program by the end of the weekend. Homework to catch up on, Thanksgiving to get ready for, and ZoeJane's birthday party to plan. And of course, this is when I get sick. Usually I get the sickest only when I'm pregnant. Hm, that's something to think about...should I be worried? Ha!

99 Balloons--Dear Eliot, Rip sweet boy

The chaos has begun...

One birthday down, another one to go. I'll be completely exhausted by January.

I've had so much on my mind lately, I can barely focus on anything. Mine and Dayton's anniversary was so great. He brought me a black wooden jewelry box and lavender daisies (A woodwork jewelry box and daisies are the traditional 5th anniversary gift). And the card was so sweet. He scored major points.

Things have been so good, but I'm so distracted. It seems like the only thing I can think about is what happened last year. I figured the sting would have worn off by now...or at least dulled a little. I think the reason I can't let go is because I have no answers...and I don't think I'll ever get them. I know how sorry he is. I know what he'd give to take it back. I know he'd make it better if he could. But he can't take it back, and he can't make it better. Sometimes I wonder if he really does have the answers I want, but won't share them because he doesn't want to hurt me anymore than he already has. Either way, it sucks ass.

I'm kind of at a loss of how to move forward from it. I'm mentally exhausted with it. I'm tired of it constantly being there. It's like having a huge elephant in the room with us all the time. It's like constantly having her in the room. It sucks. I hate it. I'm tired of it. I've got to learn to let go of a grudge...

And it suddenly hits me just how lucky I am...

So, mine and Dayton's 5 year anniversary is quickly approaching, things are better than they've ever been, and I can't help but think what a lucky girl I really am.

For those of you who don't know, Dayton is 25. Most guys his age would just now start thinking about settling down and maybe getting married. He, on the other hand, has been married for almost 5 years, has two beautiful children, and likes to spend his weekends...with me. There is hardly ever a time when he hasn't chosen grocery shopping with me over something else. He's missed ONE birthday party for the kids (a party ZoeJane went to, not her own), and that was because he had to work. When I was pregnant, he RARELY missed an appointment, even in the last trimester when appointments are weekly, and usually quick.

Usually, I'm quick to think of all the things I'd change....his gaming, him not doing much cleaning, the way it's so hard for him to focus on a deep conversation...but today it hit me how trivial these things are. My husband is a man who will work all day (usually in pain, thanks to his hip), come home, run a hot bath, and then banish me to the bathroom to relax while he watches the kids. He's the kind of man that will take the kids, fix dinner, and get them to bed when I have homework to catch up on. He's also the kind of man that will brave a Britney Spears concert, or the angry women at an Alanis Morisette concert for no other reason than to make me happy.

But the best part about him is that he understands me. He understands my intentions when no one else does. He understands why I am the way I am, and why I do the things I do. He understands what I want in life, and he puts forth as much effort as I do to make it happen.

After all we've been through, it seems like we're finally achieving what we've always wanted--happiness, with no if, ands, or buts.

Please...break....somebody...?

So, the end of the year madness has officially begun. The Christmas shopping has started. The birthday shopping has started. The party planning has started. Oh, and the Halloween costumes have been chosen (well, one has). ZoeJane has decided that she's going to be a mermaid. And Michael..well, I'm the one who's being a little indecisive there.

Meanwhile, in the middle of all this madness, my new term starts on Wednesday. I can't believe my break is already over. But here it is--Forensic Psych and Child and Adolescent Psych. Yay. This should be interesting.

George Tiller

I haven't been able to get this man off my mind ever since I started my research for an abortion paper back in March. His name sounded familiar, but if you had asked me, I wouldn't have been able to tell you who he was. Now I know...

George Tiller was a husband, a father, a grandfather, an uncle, a brother, a son, a member of the Lutheran faith...but none of these are what he's known for. What he's notorious for (among the abortion debate) is being a late term abortionist. He was one of only 3 abortionists in the United States that would perform abortions beyond 21 weeks gestation. When I first came across this information, it made me physically ill. Until I started that research, I didn't even know that late term abortions were legal ANYWHERE.

The information I've found on him seems to go from one end of extreme to another. One site will say "He was an American hero!", the next calls him "Tiller the baby killer" claiming that he would abort healthy, viable children for reasons so petty as the mother wanted to attend a rock concert. It's taken me a long time to come to my own conclusion.

My conclusion is this: George Tiller was first and foremost, a human being. Would I call him an American hero? No. Would I call him a cold blooded killer? No. As a mother, I couldn't read through many of his patient's stories without crying and wondering how in the world these women handled the cards they were dealt. These were stories of women in their third trimesters of very WANTED pregnancies, who found out that their child was suffering in one horrible way or another...women who were faced with the choice of terminating their pregnancy or giving birth to a child and then watching it die right before their eyes, as it suffered doing so.

It is a very sad thing that late term abortions are necessary, but they are. Do I believe in a woman terminating a 3 trimester pregnancy because she changes her mind about being a mother? Of course not. In fact, I don't support an abortion at ANY gestational age for that reason. But the fact is, women typically receive three ultrasounds during a normal pregnancy...because the first two or normal, because there's no reason to worry, because there are questions on whether or not excessive ultrasounds are safe for an unborn child, and even because often, 3 ultrasounds per pregnancy are all an insurance company will cover. Unfortunately, many of the terminal anomalies that these women were faced with, only show themselves at a later stage of pregnancy.

The service that George Tiller provided was a service that was NEEDED. I can't imagine how he handled performing the abortions, or looking at the tiny bodies, or even facing devastated parents day after day. He was stronger than I am. Now that he is gone, I can only hope that all of the awful things that the pro-life side says about him weren't true. I really do hope that he didn't perform partial birth abortions on live babies. I really do hope that he didn't mistreat patients. I REALLY hope that he was telling the truth when he said that the lethal injection of digoxin to the baby's heart really was painless for the baby. That is what I'm CHOOSING to believe. I am CHOOSING to believe that he was a good man that was only trying to help women who were in hopeless situations. I'm choosing to believe that this was the most humane thing that could happen to these children. I'm choosing to believe that these women really DID want to be mothers. And I'm choosing to believe that all of the wonderful things people have to say about him online are true.

After all, the man is gone. Murdered at his place of worship (If you're really pro-life, why don't you value ALL life?). Now all we can do is draw our own conclusions, because he was the only one that could answer all of our questions. The staff that worked with him, the patients who were awake for their procedures, his family...they may have many answers...but when it comes down to it, only HE knew the truth of it all.

The tempest in the teapot...

Tempest in the teapot

Drama

Traitor

These are just the things I've been called by my family LATELY. Tempest in the teapot--that cute bit was from my brother because I was upset about him not even bothering to CALL me while he was in the state from Texas (not even to meet his new nephew for the first time).

Drama--That was my sister to my bitch ex room-mate, who she herself calls a backstabbing, lying whore whenever the bitch isn't around.

And finally, traitor--from my DAD. Because his ex wife came up as a face book suggestion and I added her to see if my other sister had a face book who was on her friends list.

FML.

Few updates

Okay, here's the latest...

My sister has invited both of my brothers and their families (and even our sister-in-law's family) to her house for Thanksgiving. Needless to say, me and my family were not invited. This kind of cracks me up, because last week, even though I didn't feel that I was in the wrong...I apologized to her...just to end the whole ridiculous thing. Big mistake. I regretted it right after I did it. She was really stand off-ish, acting like I owed her the apology and she was still giving me the silent treatment. Keep in mind that during this whole issue, she bailed on my daughter's (HER NEICE's) dance recital. ZoeJane was devastated that they weren't there. Then she talks crap about me ONLINE, like...using my name and everything, to my ex room-mate, who just so happens to be a "two faced, lying, whore" according to my sister (whenever the room-mate isn't around). She also had our brother visit from TEXAS and never mentioned it....neither did my asshole brother =). She also decided not to tell me she was pregnant. Yeah. Anyway, she tells my mom the week before last that she was going to text me to tell me something about the pregnancy...never heard from her. She's basically giving me the cold shoulder. So, I've decided to not deal with it anymore. I haven't called her, texted her. She won't be invited to any of our family events (birthday parties, etc.). I'm not involving her or her family in the holidays. I'm just stepping out of it. I'm SO tired of making all the effort in relationships with my siblings and them not giving a shit. So, I'm done...happily.

Next item of interest....it has recently come to my attention, in an incredibly funny way...that I cannot describe on here, that bar whore is well, an idiot.

9/11: Jewel - Hands

9 Years Ago...

I wasn't a wife. I wasn't a mother. I was 14 years old, and my biggest problem was my boy-friend not calling me. Then, my mom burst into my room early one morning and woke me up. She rushed me into the living room and told me to look at the tv. At this point, the reporters still thought that the first plane had accidentally crashed into the first tower. I watched as the second plane hit. The reporters immediately started talking about how this must be a terrorist attack. I couldn't process what I was seeing. The city that I had always dreamed of going to was being attacked, in the most brutal way. Our country was being attacked. The images of the people falling from the buildings still makes me cry.

After about 30 minutes of watching, I went back to sleep. I had the most awful dream. When I woke up, I got dressed in a pair of camo pants and a black shirt. I wore my hair in braided pigtails that day. By the end of the day, the gas stations in my town had cars overflowing from the parking lots. They were running out of gas. Everyone was convinced (and terrified) that the gas prices would spike to an all time high the next day. They were wrong. Later that night, I was on the computer, chatting with friends about how scared I was about the war that was bound to start.

When I was young, I never grasped how this ONE day would change the course of my life. If "9/11" never happened, I probably wouldn't have ended up marrying a service member. I would have countless friends in the military. I wouldn't cry on the same day every year. Who knows how many things would be different. But, 9/11 did happen. I did marry a service member. I do have countless friends in the military. And I do cry on the same day every year.

This one isn't finished yet...

If I would have known what was to come,

I would have walked away.

And it never would have mattered,

because you’d hate me anyway

Without a word between us,

I would have passed you by.

And now I’d still be standing tall,

with not one reason to cry.

I thought that you were different,

not the typical bull shit guy.

But now I know the truth,

You were only selling for me to buy.

And without a second thought,

I gave it all to you.

I never knew what was to come,

what hell you’d put me through.

From the very start there were other girls.

A sick new part of life.

Nothing could stop you. Nothing was worth it.

Not even a heartbroken wife.

I knew I wasn’t good enough.

It didn’t take long to see,

that I wasn’t the girl you wanted.

But I saw the girl I had to be.

I needed to be skinnier.

Dark hard, and tattoos, too.

It wasn’t enough that you had promised,

Or that I was the one who loved you.

Soon things went all pear shaped,

a new page I wasn’t sure you wanted.

But soon the girls went away,

and I didn’t feel so taunted.

But shortly our new bundle came,

and things began to change.

Everything went back to normal,

and started to feel the same.

Soon a brand new girl came in.

A new reason for me to worry.

Our marriage quickly started to break,

everything was so un-sturdy.

I begged and pleaded for you to stop.

You told me you never would.

I wasn’t worth your friends,

and if I wanted to go, I should.

Untitled, of course

I already knew what had happened.

Your silence screamed at me.

I wish I knew what was to come,

And what one night could mean.

I wish the words were never spoken.

I never should have asked.

I should have let the feeling come,

and then have let it pass.

But I had to hear you tell me.

Only your words could make it real.

I never imagined the damage done,

or how cheap I’d come to feel.

The words were spoken silently.

And how quickly my world crumbled.

I had to endure the broken heart,

because you had to stumble.

I told you I didn’t need you.

I hid my screaming and my tears.

I was dying on the inside,

but I had to face my fears.

I had never felt so dirty,

so exposed or so abused.

You took what I had given you,

and suddenly I felt used.

Nothing could have made this better,

or taken the pain away.

You killed a little piece of me,

the night you chose to play.

Here I am, still damaged goods.

The heartache never ceases.

Tears still fall by the day,

And my heart is still in pieces.

Untitled

I had a detailed picture,

of who I thought she’d be.

She was nothing that you wanted,

nor posed any threat to me.

A whore, a slut, an easy bitch,

another cheap girl at a bar.

Crazy, clingy, and full of it,

not one to make it very far.

And then I started searching,

just so I could see,

the girl you had to have,

the one you chose instead of me.

If I would have known what I’d find,

I never would have tried.

I was searching for the truth,

in case you may have lied.

Instead I found the answers,

to the questions you left blank.

I found the life of a pretty girl,

and with it, my heart sank.

Now I’ve got a different picture,

floating through my mind.

There’s nothing left for me to wonder,

no assumptions to hide behind.

I wasn’t ready to take this in.

I wasn’t ready to deal.

Now I have a lifetime of details,

and a lifetime to never heal.

Poems to clear my head...

I recently started writing again, for no other reason than to clear this shit from my head. The next few posts are just that. It's rusty. I haven't written in years. But, with it has come a sense of calm, so I'll keep writing. Hopefully it will improve. Comment if you must, don't be mean.

Vacation?

I wish I could get lost for a week. Have a week to get drunk, cry, scream, and deal with my shit. I'm so sick of having it on my mind, I can hardly stand it. I can't imagine how tired Dayton is of hearing it. I have no idea what to do about it anymore. How long can you have the same thing on your mind, constantly analyzing it? Constantly upset about it? Constantly replaying it in your mind? That wears on a person's nerves.

Meanwhile, I keep having nightmares. Really horrible, graphic, detailed nightmares about losing babies and stuff. I've woken up crying a few times. Dayton and I want to have one more baby in a couple of years, but these dreams have me terrified to even think about getting pregnant.

I really do need a vacation.

Never fail to be grateful...

Most of my close friends know that a few terms ago, I did a persuasive research paper on the topic of abortion. While doing research, I became somewhat "obsessed" with the topic. I researched the hell out of it. It wasn't until I started researching that paper that I read the term "Trisomy 18". It's a chromosomal disorder that causes all kinds of birth defects and complications. Common effects are severe mental retardation, downs syndrome, clenched fists, clubbed feet, hole in the heart and MUCH more. Most women who learn their baby has this problem (usually around the 20 week ultrasound) choose to terminate. Very few of the babies live to birth. The few that do usually die within hours (at the most). 90% of these babies won't live to their first birthday. But its much more logical to expect a T18 baby to only live a few hours, at most.

Over the last few days, I've been reading stories from the mother's of these babies. It's devastating. Though I had a few scary close calls when I was pregnant with Michael...I can't help but be immensely grateful for the mostly healthy pregnancies that I've had...and even more so for my beautiful, healthy babies. How lucky we are to have not had to experience such a tragedy as Trisomy 18, or the loss of a child before their live began.

More thinking, still no answers

Clearly, I have a problem letting go of certain things. So it's not surprise that another woman would be a real challenge. I've spent so much time thinking about the situation lately. I don't know what I want from him. I know he's sorry. I know he is. I'm not really worried it will happen again. But I can't figure out what I want...what I need to happen in order for this to go away, or at least subside. I don't want him to contact her. I don't want to contact her. Maybe I just want more of my questions answered. I honestly don't know. It's not like it can be "un-done". He can't take it back. The options are to either accept it and work through it or leave. And considering we've been back together for over a year now, it seems silly to split up over something that happened over a year ago. I just don't know what the hell it is that I need to move on. Is a partial elective lobotomy an option???

The letter

Last night I wrote "the letter". It's a long, incredibly detailed, explanation of my feelings. And for the first time in about three weeks, I didn't dream about the situation last night. I think I may be onto something...

Idea....

Clearly, I've been giving a lot of thought to what happened last year. I've decided that nothing is going to make the hurt go away completely. It was always be there. But in the meantime, I've got to get on with things. I can't grieve over this everyday for the rest of my life. I think I've decided to write a letter and get every single little hurt down on paper. Maybe I'll give it to him, maybe I'll keep it to myself. I just need to get it OUT there. I think seeing it all in black and white will help me make peace with it. It won't all be floating around in my mind anymore.

I'll keep you posted.

This is a sarcastic title =)

It's times like this that I really miss having girl friends nearby. It's times like this that I miss having the misguided illusion that I could trust certain family members. It's time like this when I hate the fact that all of my siblings are close to each other, but none care to be close to me. It's time like this when the "alone factor" really hits me.

When things are so tense, it's easy to think of them together. It's easy to imagine the details. It's a knife in the chest.

It was so easy to look past it in the beginning. Things were so different. The level of affection and reassurance was insane. It was easy to feel the remorse. NOW, I just feel humiliated...angry...heartbroken. I figured I'd be over it by now. A whole year is a long to time to be upset. But it just keeps lingering there. I've had this reoccurring dream a few times that it was all a bad dream, and then I wake up and realize that actually THAT was the bad dream...a cruel one, to say the least.

This isn't something that I wanted to be alone with.

A hard few days

I can't figure out why this still feels so fresh. I've been trying to push it to the back of my mind...but the last 4 days or so, it's been just as bad as it was when it first happened. And the lack of support really makes me wonder. I would give anything for it to just go away. I wish I could fall asleep one night and have forgotten it by morning. I wish I could go more than 3 days without having dreams about it. I try and keep those to myself. I think that's why I've been sleeping so shitty the last few weeks. It's amazing what your subconscious brings to light...what it brings to your attention. I almost had myself fooled that it didn't matter. It's almost impossible to deal with this all alone. None of my friends can relate to this. He's the only one that can, but he doesn't want to hear about it. I know he feels bad about it, though, it doesn't bother him like it used to. I think that bothers me. It still haunts me and he's able to go on like nothing ever happened. That's like adding insult to injury. He says that's his way of dealing...just forgetting. There have been a few times that he told me he never thinks about it, accept when I bring it up. Now, if I bring it up, I'm a bitch...or I'm treating him like shit....or I'm immature. How is it that an issue that's killing me is so meaningless to him? I can't let it out to anyone. I can't talk to my family about it. The only family members I'm talking to are my parents. If I talk to my mom about it, she tries to convince me to leave. My dad says to just get over it. I can't talk to him about it, and in addition to my husband, he's my best friend. I don't think any of my friends really understand. They've been cheated on, but not while they're married and pregnant. That simple fact still hurts me so much. I was PREGNANT. I was spending all my nights stressed as hell and crying myself to sleep. I'd give anything for him to understand, for him to be as understanding and loving as he was when we got back together. I'd give anything to have this taken away. It's the most alone, disgusting feeling. Even a year later, I still feel like it's because I wasn't enough...because I wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough, or independent enough, or...whatever. There's still so much that I don't understand...there are so many questions that I know will never be answered. That makes it so much harder to deal with. I feel completely alone with this. Like it's my burden to bear and no one else's. But it's weird. It's like my husband has this common bond, this connection with this other woman. Even if they don't talk anymore, it still happened. They still shared something. It's never going to go away. 50 years from now, it will still be there...lingering in existence.

I will always feel like I'm less than her. This has shaken me to my core. It sucks ass, but that's how it goes, I suppose. I made the commitment to overcome this. I would give anything to not care anymore.

No one understands this. I really am in this one alone. This is one of those days I have to keep re-reading old texts and notes.

Eh...you know....

I won't lie...my heart hurts. It was a year ago today that my husband told me he had slept with another woman. A year later, 365 days later, it still feels just as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. I still remember exactly what was said. I appreciate that he was honest, though sometimes I think it would have been better for my emotions for him to have lied. One year doesn't make the hurt go away. Everybody says "time heals all"...well, apparently it takes more than a year. I try SO hard not to hold it against him. I try to let it go and push it to the back of my mind. It just lingers. SHE lingers. I saw actual photo's of her last week. It killed me. I had this specific picture of her in my head. I had already made my mind up about her...but she's nothing like I thought. She looks happy, friendly. From her photos, I can tell she's independent, three kids, her own house (NICE house...which my husband has been in). It breaks my heart just a bit. When he decided he wanted me back, I was just as independent. I had my own place. I was at the top of the world. Now, of course, I'm back to being the housewife. Of course, this was a decision we made together. He ASKED me to quit my job so we could move back to north Ga. I did, and I'm back to being a stay at home mom. Of course, I love being with my kids all day. I love them so much...but I miss having a life outside of "him". I miss being able to contribute financially. I miss knowing that I could make it on my own, without him. I miss the independence. (Side note, I'm watching "PS, I Love You" and I love Irish music...) My heart still hurts like it happened yesterday. A whole YEAR later...why doesn't it hurt any less?? When I decided to take him back, I was fully aware that he had been with another woman. Of course, when he decided he wanted me back he was MUCH more romantic. We had conversations that lasted for HOURS at night. It was fantastic..just like we were when we first started dating. I guess I thought it would stay like that, therefore making it SO easy to "get over it". He's since gotten less understanding. I can't say that I blame him. Even I thought I'd be passed it by now. Of course, I did think he'd still seem "sorry". The only downside this woman has is that she has 3 kids by 3 different dads. Is that enough to make me better? No. Of course, that is the reason I planned on getting my tubes tied after Michael was born (before we got back together). I didn't want to have multiple kids from multiple dads. That's how my family was, it just complicates things.

Anybody who knows Dayton and my whole history knows how rocky it's been. If you KNOW us, you know how hard we've worked to make our marriage work. You know how much we've been through. But you also know how we connect, how much we love each other and why. It's complicated....but I don't think either of us can see ourselves with somebody else. Our's is a complicated love story, but an honest to God actual love story. There have been so many times that we've almost split up...but we've always worked through it, knowing how much we actually love each other...how much we actually connect.

I think that's why it hurts so much...because we both know we're the only ones for each other. Anybody who REALLY knows us, knows that happened during the separation, how much it hurt both of us....and how happy we were to finally be back together. I thought I hated him. He thought he hated me...but we finally saw the light. We finally saw that we couldn't make it with anybody else. So why does it still hurt so much? Why do I care that he had ONE drunken night with ONE slutty girl? I can't answer that. Other than, she seems like someone I could make friends with...she doesn't seem like the total "bar-whore" that I envisioned her to be. And I know that she's the independent person that I want to be...and I wonder if my husband misses that kind of woman. I don't know. I honestly don't. I can't say that I honestly think he'd go back to her and cheat or anything. It just hurts knowing that this woman shared something with my husband that WE do...and that I've ONLY done with him. Yeah, he's seriously the only person I've ever slept with.

Okay. I'm going to bed. I'm drunk, I'm tired, and my heart HURTS. I'm ready for this day to be over. Ironically, it two days, we will have been "back together" for a whole year. Cheers to us. Regardless of what everybody thinks, it is possible for a marriage to work after it's been through "the other woman"....or "the other man" for that matter. I love my husband. I know in my heart that he loves me...even if he has a hard time showing it sometimes.

Every relationship is different. Every marriage is different. I hope you don't judge your's on the "ideal" relationship. Remember, all of them are different. All of them work in different ways and for different reasons.

I love my husband, regardless of the hurt I may feel.

I, myself, am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.

I just can't bring myself to apologize. It constantly stays on my mind, but not matter how many times I go over it in my head, I just don't see that I've done anything wrong. I'm holding my ground this time. The fact is, it shouldn't be this big of a deal anyway. And the fact that it is, just makes me feel like these are really negative people that do nothing but create drama...and I just don't need, nor do I want, any of that in my life. I can't change whether or not they have a problem with me. That's on them. But it really is a shame to miss out on siblings because you think you're better than they are.

On another note, while I'm feeling much better and dealing with everything much better than I was, I just can't shake all the questions I have about what happened. I've started having nightmares about it again, and that's never a good thing. I keep wondering if the thoughts will ever go away. It's like the mental images are seared into my mind. I keep asking myself if I'm even allowed to still be upset and hurt by it. A few weeks ago, I made the conscious decision to put this shit behind me. Unfortunately, it's creeping back into my thoughts. I suppose there's really nothing I can do about that.

And the madness finally ends...

So, my mind is clear and calm again...and I'm back at where I was before the depression set in. I can't quit thinking about what happened last year. I'm not depressed about it, but it does make me sad. I've still got a lot of questions that I know will never be answered, and that's frustrating.

This last weekend was the best one we've had in such a long time. A road trip, friends, the beach....it was fantastic. It was one of those times that makes me feel really confident that I've made good choices over the last year. But regardless of how good things are right now, my heart still hurts. I wonder sometimes if a year is too long for my heart to hurt over a 3 month separation. Then I think, it's the details that hurt the worst...not the separation.

I also keep reminding myself that if I could wrap my head around the idea of forgiveness, this would be much easier. That's a concept I'd like to instill in my own children, but how do I do that when instead of forgiveness, I had the ability to hold a grudge hammered into my skull? Part of me feels like it's naive to forgive something so huge. The other part of me keeps thinking, the forgiveness is for MY peace of mind.

Regardless of everything that's on my mind...I feel good. I'm sad, but it's a kind of sad that I can handle. It's hard to explain. If I figure it out, I'll let you know.

What do I want?

I have no idea. I officially have no clue what I want, what I need, or what I expect. I know what I'd LIKE to expect, but I also know that Santa Claus isn't real...so there ya go.

It's been a rough week since last Thursday. I've had a lot on my mind since then, a lot that I'm having a hard time sorting through. Then Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were pretty much perfect. It was the first time in MONTHS that I've felt like I could actually catch my breath and breathe. I've spent so much time being scared over the last year...it feels weird to not have that fear as a constant.

Every time I start to feel normal, or even GOOD, some little thing happens to throw me off course. It can be the smallest thing, but can evoke the most intense fear in me. It automatically takes me back to a year and a half ago, and I'm convinced that history is repeating itself. It throws everything up in the air. I feel like I can't catch my breath.

The worst part about those times is that no one knows how to handle them. I know what I need in those scary moments, but....yeah. I know what makes those moments worse, and usually those things are exactly what end up happening. It's times like these that I get most confused. They make me re-evaluate everything. They make me question the decisions I've made and make me wonder what I'm doing wrong. Which, you guessed it, makes the feeling worse.

My main goal now is to get myself sorted out. The problem with it is that it's something I've got to do completely on my own. No one understands, and even if they did, no one wants to deal with it. Hell, I don't even want to deal with it. The goal is to be the person I was a year ago. That was me at my best. That was me centered. That's the person I need to be again.

I'll keep you posted.

Not a Pretty Girl...Ani DiFranco

I am not a pretty girl
that is not what I do
I ain't no damsel in distess
and I don't need to be rescued
so put me down punk
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair
isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

I am not an angry girl
but it seems like I've got everyone fooled
every time I say something they find hard to hear
they chalk it up to my anger
and never to their own fear
and imagine you're a girl
just trying to finally come clean
knowing full well they'd prefer you
were dirty and smiling

and I am sorry
I am not a maiden fair
and I am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

and generally my generation
wouldn't be caught dead working for the man
and generally I agree with them
trouble is you gotta have youself an alternate plan
and I have earned my disillusionment
I have been working all of my life
and I am a patriot
I have been fighting the good fight
and what if there are no damsels in distress
what if I knew that and I called your bluff?
don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
whether or not you ever show up

I am not a pretty girl
I don't want to be a pretty girl
no I want to be more than a pretty girl

Kill your baby for as low as $340, plus disposal fee...

I haven't been able to shake my curiosity about abortion since I turned my research paper in. For some reason, I'm still drawn to it. Today, I found out that there's an abortion clinic here in Atlanta that actually performs ELECTIVE abortions up to 25 weeks gestation. TWENTY FIVE weeks...6 months and a week. Babies have been known to survive from as early as 20 weeks gestation. After that, they perform medical necessity abortions to 26 weeks.

The website states that they do these late term abortions by D & E (Dilation and evacuation). They state that on the first day, lamanaria (medical seaweed) is inserted into the cervix. These sticks absorb amniotic fluid and "gently" open the cervix. The second day, the woman is put under and the "contents of the uterus" are removed. They don't say what they do to actually terminate the baby.

It made me sick at my stomach to know that something this horrific is happening this close to home. And the cost of the barbaric practice? The late term abortion will run you $4,500 (as listed on the website), plus what they call a "Comp fee" (disposal fee), which will run you between $70-$210, depending on the height and weight of the baby and whether it was a termination for a single or multiples. Their early abortions start at $340.

http://www.atlantasurgicenter.com/

Examination...

I thought you were supposed to perform these life-changing "examinations" of yourself and your life a little later than 23. I was saving all this shit for my mid-life crisis. Oh well.

If any of you read my last entry, you know a majority of what's been on my mind..what I've been examining. But there are other things. In the last 2 or 3 days, I've realized that my anxiety (and therefore my depression) GREATLY decreases when there is open communication between Dayton and I. Even though I've only realized this in the last few days, I already feel like I'm being pulled out of that dark place I've been in for the last few months (more intensely in the last few weeks). That's a huge weight off my shoulders. But for some reason, my thoughts keep drifting back to my family. I feel robbed of a real family. Isn't the family unit supposed to provide comfort in your dark days? Support in your weakest hours? And happiness with your successes? Aren't they supposed to be happy when you're happy? None of this is the case in my family. It seems they always point out the negative in my happy moments. They add fuel to the fire in my weak moments. And with many of them, unless I'm catering to them and their ideas of what or who I should be...I might as well not even exist. Is it really so unforgivable that I've got two tattoo's and a tongue ring? Really? Was I the first girl to marry at 18? The first girl to have a baby at 19? No....I was just the first one in my family.

On top of that, there are so many "secrets" swirling around, it's hard to keep up. Everyone knows everybody's secrets, but everyone pretends not to. They're life altering kinds of secrets, but everyone keeps quiet. I have no clue why. Wouldn't it be easier just to give up the lie and TALK? It seems like a lifetime of keeping up with secrets and lies would just be exhausting. Can you imagine the weight on one person's shoulders? Can you imagine how much lighter they would be if they just let it out?

The whole idea of trying to figure out my family is exhausting. And the funny thing is, I don't know why I'm trying to. They clearly aren't that worried about figuring me out.

How do you forgive.....

...when you never learned how? How to do find the strength to let it go, when all you know is how to hold a grudge? And how is it that you can't find the strength to do EITHER of these even when you know it's for YOUR own good, instead of the other person's?

I've been blessed with the gift of holding a grudge, remembering every detail, and having no idea how to achieve "forgiveness".

Starting to make peace with the inevitable...

I've really been avoiding the idea of anti-depressants for a while now. I got off of them because I got pregnant. I stayed off of them to prove a point. I think I made my point, but all that hard work seems to be crashing down now. Now that life is finally starting to settle down, it's time for me to start dealing with whats happened. That reality has brought along with it, a whole new kind of anxiety and depression. I've been back on anxiety meds for a little while now to help with the panic attacks. But the depression is actually scaring me. That's a first. Well hell, there goes that whole "I-am-woman-hear-me-roar" thing. Damn. Will update this story as needed.

I am not a pretty girl....

Nothing like old school Ani Difranco to stir some stuff up.

I keep re-playing this song (particularly these lines) over and over in my head.

I am not a pretty girl/That's not what I do/I ain't no damsel in distress/and I don't need to be rescued.......and the next:

I am not an angry girl/But it seems like I've got everyone fooled/Every time I say something they find hard to hear/They chalk it up to my anger/And never to their own fear....

The truth is, I am angry. I'm angry because I've never been "the pretty girl" to the love of my life. His ideal girl is skinny, pierced, tattooed, dark hair (sometimes), and a nice ass. I'm not skinny, though I'm not overweight, either. I got my first tattoo (a tramp stamp) because I was so scared that he was getting ready to leave me for another girl...and the ONE thing she didn't have that he loved, was a tramp stamp. I got my ears pierced in hopes even THAT might make me more attractive to him. I had always wanted to be pierced and tattooed, but am a total wuss. And of course, I've got mousy brown hair and no ass, whatsoever.

It wasn't until after we split and I saw his myspace status (has a fetish for tats and piercings...its almost perverted), that I FINALLY got the guts to do something I'd always wanted-I got my tongue pierced (I thought only tattoos were no-no's while pregnant). It hurt like hell...but I had never felt so liberated.

It was after our son was born that I finally got the tattoo that I wanted, just for me. A really whimsical bird on my wrist....to remind me to never be scared to do it on my own again...that I had pulled through once and could do it again.

So, I'm finally starting to accept being just mediocre me. No career (yet), barely modified, not skinny, not particularly interesting, not talented....just me.

The beginning of the end, April 13, 2009

I was about 2 months pregnant, and had an afternoon appointment with my counselor. I had been getting the distinct feeling from my husband that he was no longer interested in our marriage. After I talked to her, I decided that it was time to suck it up and explain to my husband that he could be happy about this planned pregnancy and act like it, or me and our daughter would be leaving. Without batting an eye, he said "Okay, go". After a few hours of arguing, he called my mother to come get me. Divorce was never mentioned until after my mom showed up to get me. He told her that he wanted a divorce. She told me, I asked him, and I got a quiet "yes".

I calmly (as calmly as I could) told him that I hated him and would never forgive him, and we left. I got sick on the hour and a half drive to my mom's house. I cried myself to sleep when we finally got there. The next morning, I woke up in a total panic. The worst thing about that next morning was that I was angry at this little life growing inside of me, because I was sure this new baby was the reasoning behind him wanting a divorce. On top of that, the idea of bringing this new baby into a broken home brought on overwhelming feelings of guilt.

I called my husband that afternoon to try to talk. He informed me, loudly in his office, that we were over, he was emotionally tired of working on our marriage, and that there was nothing I could do or say to make him want me back. He ended the conversation by yelling "This is it! We're over!". I was humiliated. I was devastated. And with those 5 little words, I felt like my heart had actually broken.

I kept thinking, "After all the things I've stuck with him through, he's just throwing me away! What was the point of working through all those problems in the first place?". I was humiliated to have to keep explaining to people over and over and over that my husband had kicked me and our daughter out.

It is humiliating to admit that this is when I started considering an abortion. I'd always been STRONGLY pro-life, but now...I felt guiltier than I ever thought imaginable for bringing this baby into a broken home, with a "crazy" mother. I felt like every baby deserved to be brought into the world with happy parents, a daddy to gush, and an actual HOME to be brought back to...not a single bedroom that his mother and big sister already shared. I never could bring myself to do it, even after hearing from my husband that he never wanted another baby with me...that he just got me pregnant to shut me up. I decided that somehow, I would provide a home for our children, and that I could love this new baby enough for BOTH of us...and that I wanted him more than anything.

The darkest days of my life came before this separation...when my husband was wrapped up in other girls and his video games. The fact that I had stayed through all that, just to have him throw me away like yesterday's garbage...made these first few weeks after the split almost unbearable. It was the most humiliating time of my life.

A little intro...

I am 23 years old. I have been married for almost 5 years. I have two children, 3 years and 6 months, have been through two separations, one of which lasted for 3 months--during my second pregnancy. I am the youngest of 4 brothers and 3 sisters....all of which (except one, that died in 2004) could take me or leave me without a second thought on the matter. They're all half siblings...what can I say? They have something to do with me in my darkest hours and then they disappear. Go figure.

In the almost 5 years that I've been married, my husband has spent the majority of the time thinking that I am a total psycho bitch that's nothing but possessive and lazy, and being more interested in other girls...though my staying at home with our children was a MUTUAL decision.

My parents apparently think I'm a total fuck-up. I'm in my second year of my FIRST stint in college (working towards a BA of Science in Psychology with a concentration in child development, with a minor in criminal justice), and yet, they barely seem to notice. Now add my sister to the equation (who happens to be MY dad's step daughter), and they're constantly excited about the grades she's making and what she's going to do with her real estate law degree (this is her....second (i think) stint in college).

Currently, my biggest heartbreak is the latest separation. It only lasted three short months. I went from being a pregnant stay at home mom to a working (full time...usually 12 hour days), single mother...who was told that my husband never wanted our second child-that he only got me pregnant to shut me up. I considered abortion. I never thought I'd be one to consider abortion--for any reason. I had always been against it. And yet, because I thought I was bringing a child into a broken home where only one parent REALLY wanted him, I considered it. And of course, my in-laws hate me. Mostly because my husband has told them things (like that I was crazy) without giving them the story behind it (like, I was actually heart broken that he was more interested in other girls). Thankfully, my STEP-mother-in-law knows pretty much everything and has been supportive and still loves me.

My heart WAS broken. My heart is STILL broken. And clearly, I'm still trying to deal with my marital issues, along with my family ones.

So, welcome to the journey. It's going to be a long one...