A Day’s Journey (Syria and Sex)

It occurs to me as I search for change, that I am myself a great creature of change within one single day. My life may not make a drastic change, my habits and opinions and personality may stay the same. My life may not exhibit the changes I wish to see but in a moment of reflection, I realize change within myself is constant.

Pure contentment with a slow drifting off to sleep if only for an hour before the children awoke.

Resigned to the fact that they would not go back to sleep.

Pride in myself for being supermom, breakfast, multiple diaper changes, hot wheels races and the bathtub cleaned all before 8am.

Quiet insanity with my son going through a phase where he can call my name 18 thousand times in one minute. “Mama, mama, mama….”

Feeling completely overwhelmed at the first day free of depression in quite awhile.

Anger at my husband for taking his anger out on me. Anger at myself for allowing this to deconstruct my entire planned day.

Sadness and desperation when this momentarily drove me back to the dark room.

Frustration when my husband could not control his anger and our fight ballooned to packing his bags, name calling and angry cleaning.

Recovery with a cooling down period.

Shame when I accepted an unwanted loan for rent I can’t pay from my best friend. And then relief.

Determination when my mother showed up and we started cleaning my house.

Happiness playing more hot wheels and watching Disney Junior with my one son and seeing my other son laugh for maybe the fifth time so far.

Hilarity ensues when my mother speaks, as a dog ate her dentures and she has her alternate pair on. Complete with buck teeth and crooked teeth that are brilliant white.

Fear and anger when I read that the U.S wants to go to Syria. Fear for my children and anger that this could happen in 2013.

Absolute joy when my two year old and I go for our daily walk way past his bedtime and he becomes obsessed with the mangiest cat I have ever seen.

Reflection and deep thought reading a book about the parallels between neuroscience and Buddhism.

Hope when I talk to my husband about maybe attending a Buddhist temple in September to help us both focus and improve our minds.

Relaxation watching T.V. eating more chocolate than I probably should.

Lust and intense sexuality in bed when postpartum doesn’t affect my naturally high sex drive and my husband and I have amazing sex that leaves me feeling thoughtful, content and warm and fuzzy.

Love when my son can’t sleep and he walks with his doggy and blanket to sleep in the big bed.

And now…. it’s now.

 

All in a day. So my conclusion is, if I am capable of changing my mood and mind so much in the span of less than 24 hours, I must be capable of changing my life the way I desire.

 

 

 

 

 

And This I Don’t Understand

I need some intense change in my life.

I posted on Facebook that I needed something to change but I wasn’t sure what. Responses from family and friends echoed the same sentiment. Don’t wait for it, make the change. Be the change. Sounds great and I’m sure I would tell someone that exact same advice.

But what the HELL does that mean?

I’m not happy in life and I want things to be different…. so yeah I’ll make a change right now! But what? And how? And when? I have no clue what to do. So telling me I need to make a change, alright I agree with you. But can you tell me exactly how I might do that?

Is it a change of attitude or understanding that makes the difference? How do I do that? Should I have an epiphany? What exactly brings that on? Where exactly do I find happiness? Oh. Within me? Oh great! Wait…. but it’s there and yet I’m still not happy. Could someone please help me work on my own personal step by step guide to this?

Like:

Step One: Do this.

Step Two: Now do this.

Yeah I know, life isn’t that easy and I need to figure it out for myself. But it’s so frustrating being as old as I am and still not knowing what to do. I thought I’d be a well adjusted 16 year old with her life together and now I’m 27, have two kids, a turbulent relationship and I still want my life to change so we can all be happy.

I know it can happen. But how?

This I don’t understand.  

Dear Battle Worn Friend,

The last story I wrote on here is actually about a real person.

One day I will write about him in reality with no metaphors.

My dear friend.

He moved away and in with a woman with whom I do not get along.

And like most of my good male friends, we can’t be friends anymore.

Women hate their men to have women friends. As if it’s just asking for them to be cheated on or something.

I’m not completely faultless. I care about him so much and we know each other so well that when I could tell it wasn’t right for him… I told him AND her to stop it. I may have gotten angry and called her names…. ahem. But he told me he didn’t really love her and that he just didn’t want to be alone. So what am I supposed to do? Let my dear friend move across the country to be with someone he doesn’t even love without a fight?

Yep. That is exactly what I should have done. I’m older and wiser now and I realize that part of being a good friend is allowing your friends to make their own decisions, right or wrong. And being their friend through all of it.

So with whatever happened, we don’t talk anymore. I miss him like crazy. We talked about everything. He made me laugh like no one else has ever been able to. He always called me his babe and even after I met my husband he said that was his name for me so he had to keep calling me that. Even after he met his girlfriend. He tried to stop once but he would always say, “….. babe I mean Shauna. Bye babe, I mean Shauna….” He is honestly a very one of a kind person. I won’t go into it. It’s a long blog entry for another day.

My point was, that story was about him, so I wrote to his girlfriend (I have no way to contact him anymore) and I asked if we could all be friends. I told her how much I missed him and that I just wanted him back as my friend. He’s injured badly from being at war in Afghanistan and I know he could use a good friend as much as I could right now…..

I wonder what she’ll say back…..

Seven

He inhaled with a sharp wheeze,

Flames licked upon the back of his neck – he shakes his head.

He eyes began to film over and he no longer saw her.

She phased, contorted, became less than she was, had a hold of more than she did.

He used her tears as ammunition, her pauses as admissions of guilt she was unaware hung on her shoulders.

He danced her off her spinning platform and she found herself continually spinning.

Shotgun, oxygen depleted he saw her and couldn’t for all the length of his arms steady the frenzy which was pooling around her

Everything bigger than them knew what would crumble and what would not.

Yet could only watch each synapse come alive and die out, and not utter a word.

He was left with confusion brushing past him. Racing in a direction not knowing if he was running to or from.

She was left clinging to the hard concrete road – hoping that when she opened her eyes, the world would be still,

once again.

 

Douglas Coupland Was Right

Douglas Coupland was right. All families are Psychotic.

I’m going to tell you a little bit about my family. Normally you wouldn’t care about a stranger’s family however, this family is quite unique…. look and see.

My father. Seventy year old car salesman. Born in Scotland to an affluent family. Military father. Younger brother, older sister. He’s partied hard since the 60s.  He keeps a bottle of vodka in his car to take the odd swig of. Always wears a button up shirt where he unbuttons half of them. He has in the past had a temper issue. He once kicked the bumper off a truck because it drove too close to him. Womanizer. Women love him even now. Always had multiple girlfriends at a time. First wife they separated, shortly thereafter she committed suicide. Second wife (my mother) they divorced in the 90’s. He’s with an evil shrew of a woman now that he refuses to marry. He’s done a lot of drugs, drank a lot, had a lot of sex and indiscretions but when he was saddled with a two year old toddler that he had no clue what to do with, he stepped up, became Mr. Mom. Laundry, dishes, cooking…. he did it all for me. He always supported his family no matter what. I wish we were still close. Thanks Shrew. 

My Mother – a history of mental problems (I really resent having gotten some of them) in her family with a very intelligent yet psychotic suffragette mother and a very wealthy east Indian lawyer father that worked closely with Gandhi. Her first husband was a younger American from the south, they divorced and had a custody battle over my older sister. Second husband (My father, see above). A selfish human being with good intentions, she spent the majority of her adulthood being a bad alcoholic. I am haunted by being left in a car at 6 months while she passed out drunk in a bar, being told I killed her by hiding her alcohol at 5 years old and being left on a street corner with my suitcase while she forgot me and went to Disneyland by herself. She’s 65 now, sober for over 10 years but still insane. They don’t let her in the U.S. for a 70, 000 dollar government fraud charge yet I have to show her why her Samsung isn’t ringing. She’s a good grandmother though.

Two sisters. Both well off. Both married with children. Twelve and thirteen years older than me. One is a enigmatic business woman with my same sense of humor and a social anxiety disorder. I miss her and wish she lived closer. The other is an aloof housewife that we all struggle to be close to. We have children the same age so I wish we were close.

Aunt- totally loveable and normal.

Uncle- died young from ALS. From what a remember he was a very sweet and hilarious man.

My husband- a 25 year old southern American (sound familiar?) with a problem with drugs, lying and anger. He used to rap. I kind of believe he has Explosive Interruptive Disorder. TBD. Nevertheless a sweet kind hearted man that showed me more love than I thought possible. We are struggling right now but I have faith in him.

I’ve adopted through the years a mother and father from Ohio, a brother from New York, sister from here in town and many cousins from around the world. Honorary titles.

I have two sons. Both of them I was not a fan of when they were born. One is two and one is only a few months old. Now though…. now I’m in love. My oldest is the light of my life, my heart and soul and he is what I live for. My youngest is still new but man he’s cute and a little darling. What I hope for them is everything I didn’t get, some things I did and above all I want them to follow their hearts even at their own peril.

A Letter I Never Sent

Dear *****r,
 
Today you left. You came with your parents and took all your things. You had actually left many days ago but there is some sort of finality in the fact that you have no need to come back. Last night we fought, I learned the truth. I am not a doormat, not pathetic but neither am I a bitch or shrewish girl who is able to constantly keep up berating you, blaming you and guilting you. You wronged me and our son, yes. But I can’t stay angry. Wrong or right, that’s who I am. I loved you so much for so long no matter what terrible things you’ve done it doesn’t change my feelings. To be honest, no matter what horrible things you may put us through in the future, I’ll always love you more than my own life. For the simple fact that for over 2 years you were my life.
 
But. I digress. The point of this email and email address is a present to you and for me and even…in a way for R^^^^^. I truly feel as if my *****r and R^^^^^’s Daddy has dissapeared and been replaced with someone…different. Even learning that you were different for longer than I thought, still I mourn for *****r. And I never want him to miss out on our family. On our son. On me. So… stupid or not I’m going to write to you every day until I feel it’s unnecessary. I’m going to tell you about your son and I. So if one day *****r comes back to us, he will be able to have a small glimpse of his family on the days he was gone.
 
So today you left. Like I said you came with your parents to pick up your stuff. I wasn’t as mad as I thought I would be at you for the simple fact that I missed you being away so much that when you came home today I was just so happy to see you. Your son adores you too. He looks at you like you’re the coolest guy ever. I’m mommy oh sure he loves me oodles, but he just worships you. It’s in the way he looks at you. So you went around packing your things, not as painful as expected. I think because you took nothing that had sentimental value to me. I hid your graduation ring away just praying you wouldn’t ask for it. You didn’t. I’m sure you will one day but I want to keep it for R^^^^^. You allowed me to keep pieces of clothing that were meaningful to me. That meant a lot.
 
For future reference of these emails, THAT GIRL will be referring to S%%%%%%.
 
So, THAT GIRL kept texting you which annoyed me to no end. She has no respect for this situation or for family at all it feels like. I’m overwhelmed with hatred for her which I dislike because it really only hurts myself. I keep hoping that relationship fails real quickly. THAT GIRL talked in her emails about moving in with you at which time I will make it more difficult for you to see your son. I really to the core of my being believe she is a bad person and I don’t want that around my son. I hope it doesn’t mean court. If I lost any sort of rights over my son I might actually lose it. He’s my whole world now. Before he shared my world with you but…well.
 
Your parents were polite to me when they got here but I can tell they aren’t as fond of me as they used to be. I know you gave them splintered truths that made me look bad. Oh well. It’s funny that I’m finding some sort of strength in this situation because normally it would kill me to have anyone dislike me. R^^^^^ of course was in a horrible mood when they got here which was unfortunate because he’s so much fun when he’s a happy kid. But I know they love him nonetheless. Then you and your father left to do something of which I was unaware and your mother and I talked about my pregnancy and THAT GIRL. She said she was disappointed in you. I’m not going to lie, kind of validated my feelings which I desperately needed. And I could tell she didn’t want me to have the baby which made me sad.
 
Then you all got up to leave, said goodbye to the boy, your parents hugged me and left us alone. And then I touched you. Here’s where I may or may not sound pathetic. I love touching you. I love sliding my hands up and down your stomach, down your pants, touching your bum and ####…. just touching you. And I think what I love/miss the most is that I could touch you anywhere, anytime. The freedom of knowing you were mine and I could show you I loved you by touching you. So, I touched you and you stopped me at some point because I know you’re trying to have ‘principles’ about the situation mostly because of THAT GIRL which actually offends me. But once I did touch you the sadness crept in. I fought it off a little earlier sitting with your parents when your mom talked about everyone together for Christmas, but I couldn’t fight it when my lips were next to your neck and I felt your arms go around my waist. So I became just so sad. I didn’t show it, and I think you mumbled some general “it’ll all be ok” sentiments. The boy and I walked you out and then you were gone.
 
I didn’t cry when I came back in which kind of surprised me. I just felt….numb? I didn’t want to do anything. Which is where I decided that my week of working so hard on the house, on the computer and on our son was going to need to be paused for a night. I just needed to do nothing. R^^^^^ didn’t make that easy by going for his last nap way too late and only waking up for a moment before going back to bed for the night… which I’m sure is going to suck in the middle of the night. But now he’s asleep and I guess that’s it for today. I’m watching mindless tv, playing on facebook and writing this. Thinking about sleep.
 
Last night when I tried to sleep, I thought of you in THAT GIRL’s bed and not spooning me and this heavy unbearable sadness just penetrated my whole body and I lay there all night not being able to sleep. Not crying, just literally unable to sleep. Like I forgot how to sleep in that bed without you. It just seemed absurd. So hopefully tonight it’s better. I tend to sleep with the boy more since you’ve been gone only because it’s a little less lonely. I think in some way he actually tries to comfort me, if that makes sense.
 
Goodnight *****r, my love. I grew to love you more than I thought possible and now I can’t shake you. You will always be our Daddy and our family will remember you always. TTYL
 
< 3

Zack

Zack’s full name is Zachary Paul Williams. I met him in 2007 for the first time and he saved my life. Ever since then he’s been my personal hero. Zack lives on the street. If indeed he is still alive.

In 2007 I seemed to be at a fulfilling beautiful point in my life. Great career, great friends, was with a man I loved with a intense passion. But unbeknownst to me, I was in reality, still a fragile dark creature that was simply living in the sun for a moment. The man I loved left and I allowed everything to come crashing down. Looking back I can’t believe I had no fortitude to keep something…anything afloat but at the time I wasn’t strong enough alone to stop the threads of my life from fraying and unraveling.

So on an actual dark and stormy night I took off from my life and drove my car haphazardly down an empty highway, tears burning my eyes and streaming down my face. My mind racing I had no choices. My life was over and in my heart of hearts I felt abandoned for the last time. Drive off a cliff was the only thing that came to mind. I wasn’t thinking in words anymore, only in storyboards.

Drive off cliff. Pain ends. Heart won’t hurt so much.

But like anyone that can’t cope with an intense onslaught of emotions, I had fear first. Overwhelmed and hurting on a physical level, I pulled over at a closed gas station and fell on the ground sobbing. No solution, only pain.

Then Zack. A dirty homeless man on a bike looking for cans if I recall correctly. Much too emotional to be scared of this stranger in a terrible area of town, when he approached me I continued to sob uncontrollably.

“Are you ok?”

“No! My life is over.”

“What happened?”

“The man I love left me…he LEFT me… I can’t… I can’t….”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s not the end you know.”

“It is! He is the only one I had and now I have nothing and nobody. What am I going to do…”

“Get up every day.”

“I can’t! It hurts…you don’t understand!!!”

“I don’t? I beat an addiction, got a great job and had a wife and baby girl…. and I woke up one morning and they were gone. My wife took everything, and she took my daughter….. they had to lock me up I went insane it hurt so bad. I lost my job, I lost everything…. I’m using drugs again, my life is shit. Don’t tell me I don’t understand.”

Caught completely off guard.

“Sorry…”

“But you know what? I’m still here.”

“How are you… I mean didn’t you just wanna die?”

“Every single day”

“But then…”

“You just have to fake it until you make it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wake up every day. Breathe in and out. Pretend you’re not in excruciating pain. Live a lie. And one day the pain will actually be less. It’s never going to go away. But it will get better. I promise.”

I can’t remember the rest of the conversation. Either that or it hurts too much to remember. This man who didn’t know me, who had NOTHING, gave me a chance at staying alive. I am fairly certain I was emotionally unstable enough to end my life that night. And his words, his completely sincere and compassionate nature….let me believe I had a chance. It was months, perhaps years until I healed from it, still hurts today, but he was right. It got better. And THAT night, he let me stay alive. Love him until the end of time. He’s a part of my soul and a part of my life for always. I wear his name in ink on my wrist along with the names of the most important people to touch my life. I defend his honor with the ferocity of a mother who has a threatened child.

I left that night with a spark of hope. Enough to sustain me until morning. Fake it til you make it.

I only saw Zack one more time after that…. but that dear friends is a story for another day.

 

 

The Facebook Theory

Now I’m not talking about why Facebook was invented, we all saw The Social Network. I’m not talking about it becoming a public company, its advertising or apps or anything like that. I’m talking about the idea we have of Facebook, how we would want it to work in theory.

It strikes me as I sit here having just made a status post that I thought was mildly interesting that I care way more than I probably should about receiving “likes” or comments on said post.

I went to a party recently and a friend said, “I love your Facebook posts!” Really? Well I’m flattered but really? I post from the boring, “I just made a sandwich”, to the political, “Rabble rabble rabble… to the personal, “My husband is a dick…” Well no, they are more eloquent than that most of the time but still, why would anyone LOVE them? I know. Because I put my whole life out there to be picked apart. And people are shocked sometimes. I have 90’s Howard Stern moments.

But the reason I post and share and participate in the phenomena that is the giant of our lives, Facebook (bow in awe), is for a deeper and more profound meaning. I want to be loved. I want this space where I’m surrounded by people who I know and cherish and that care about me. Actually truly care. So there is this cyber place where I can word vomit to 500 of my “friends” and they are all going to care right? I’m going to put personal sometimes the most vulnerable information on Facebook and every single one of them is going to care and love me anyways. Right?

In theory.

We are now this culture of sharing every single moment in our lives. Facebook, Youtube, Intagram, the now defunct MySpace…. because we want the world to see our unique selves for everything we are and love us. It’s a valid theory. Given the strength and bravery of sitting behind a computer screen we can be honest or maybe skew the truth in our favour and then we can sit back and watch the masses rally around us in this show of support and solidarity and awe that we are so unique and they never knew! Wow!

But in truth…. human nature comes out. And human nature is a bipolar and scary thing. As much or maybe more than we are capable of acceptance and understanding we too are capable of hateful hateful things. As the computer or smart phone or tablet gives us the bravery to bare our soul it also allows us to release our demons on poor unsuspecting souls that just wanted you to like them. They didn’t want the judgement or the hate or the indifference. They never knew that’s what they might get.

Now, I have had mainly positive times on Facebook. Some relationships have gotten closer and it gives me this sense (maybe falsely so) that I’m hanging on to those co-workers or family members or school mates that I used to be friendly with. But that theory that my page will be this meeting place of all this positive love for me….. well THAT never quite happened. I get as much flack for my posts as I do praise. But you know what? I’m me on there as I am on here, perhaps skewed in moments of weakness but for the most part…. you get me.

But here is the fatal fatal flaw with The Facebook Theory. You could have the largest, most close knit group of friends on this social media site. They love every pic you post, only kind and supportive words for you. But at the end of the day you find absolutely no solace in their good will because you wish it was at your front door instead of your newsfeed.

The Selfish Person’s Struggle With Kids

If you’re selfish, I suggest you don’t have kids. If you are going through a selfish phase, wait until you don’t care so much about yourself, THEN have kids.

I’m not entirely sure I’m selfish but I’m pretty sure this is the diagnosis I keep going back to upon a self evaluation. And I have kids.

*WARNING* THE FOLLOWING MAY OFFEND MANY BLOGGERS.

I am not now, nor am I ever going to be one of those damn mommy bloggers. I love my kids but I am not going to talk about them every second of every day. No thank you. Post your cute “I’m the perfect mom who has laundry problems ha ha ha” I just will not be doing the same.

So anyways… the problem with being selfish and having kids is, there is this constant war within yourself. You love your kids more than you love yourself and you’re constantly angry at the world about it. As screwed up as it is, I miss being able to be self destructive. You constantly feel trapped into living a better life and thriving and providing. When you’re selfish, there is no pressure when it’s just you. But the pressure when you have children, holy moses on fire. It’s this intense mom guilt of, I’m too selfish to be a “good” mom. They deserve better…

Right now, much to my utter embarrassment, I’m trying to cope with some postpartum depression. I’d rather be the raving lunatic I normally am then be lumped in with a bunch of weepy moms that hate their kids. I’m not like that, I love my kids but just happen to be in the post partum period and I…. well I like dark rooms a lot right now. And even with this, some chemical, hormonal monster I can’t control, I feel guilty. Are my kids suffering some huge life altering trauma by me taking (selfishly so) some time to mope in my dark room watching the complete third season of ER? Peter Benton is the worst developed character since 90’s television by the way.

I see these stroller moms who cocoon their kids in bubble wrap, who all waited until their late 30s or early 40s to have children, well adjusted and not at all selfish. They live for their children. And I’m fairly certain, or at least it’s my belief that they suffer no inner cat fight of priorities. They let go of their selfish ways. And it’s all so easy. They can worry about the damn laundry and not about their mental health and competency as a bearer of human lives.

So I really would suggest, crazy or not, don’t have kids if you’re selfish. The worst part is you love them so damn much you wish you weren’t selfish at all. But you’ll turn, slowly and agonizingly into a selfless mom or dad. Skip the agony people.