I hate using my blog to unburden my heavy heart. After all, when this started it was supposed to be about adventures. It was supposed to be about overcoming the challenges of single motherhood, working, being a college student, interning and figuring out who I was as a person, as well as showing everyone the cool stuff I sometimes get to do.
In the last few months, I've been dealing with....well just crap. Frustrating crap, hurtful crap, sad crap. For those that know me best, I will say, this ain't our first rodeo, yes I have heard you everytime you have said "I'm here for you." Stubborn me, sometimes it just takes awhile.
Every morning I wake up and I promise myself that if I can get through another ten minutes without tears, another day without tears, another week without tears, I will be okay. I promise myself that if I don't breakdown today, I will buy myself those new shoes, I will allow myself time to read a fluff book, anything it takes to get me through the day.
While I'm trying to get through all that crap, I somehow forgot that coming here, that writing is what heals me. I didn't want to load my readers with the anger, the sadness or the frustration that I sometimes feel. I forgot my words are what gets me through the next day.
I guess writing for a newspaper isn't the same as writing to heal.
So where do I start? By now most of you know about Gina and the gambit of emotions that crushed me. That was Thanksgiving, and the year that started off with promise, well I'm still waiting for those promises to be fulfilled.
(For all of my friends, I'll say it now, if that douchebag husband ever texts you again, let me know. I think I fixed the issue with a couple of well-placed threats of harrassment and perhaps calling a spot a spot)
My son got into some trouble. I won't go into what type of trouble, just that it's life changing. I have asked myself and friends repeatedly what I did wrong as a mom. Did I not love him enough? Was I not hard enough on him? Was I too hard on him? Each time the answer comes back, "You can give them all the right values and send them out into the world and hope they will be the best they can."
Still at night, it's hard not to reflect on every thing I could have done differently as a parent. "Well maybe I shouldn't have worked so much." "Well if you hadn't worked that much, he wouldn't have had a roof over his head." The back and forth just goes on.
The thing is, I love him. Even with his mistakes, he's mine. I guess I just can't fix skinned knees anymore.
I don't know why it sunk in today, but today I had a friend say "Jen, you've been a good mom. You've done everything for those boys. He came from a good family, his choices are his own." It finally sunk in a little.
Shortly before that, I watched a close friend bury his fiance and the same day, found out my grandpa's cancer is "aggressive" and need radiation and then lost my god-brother to a heroin overdose.Yeah, that was sort of a bad day.
Some people think my choice to not go to my god-brothers memorial service was selfish. Maybe it was. I chose to work that day. I made a conscious choice to cover an EMS training and watch people who try everyday to save lives.
Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was wrong of me to not go home and say my final goodbye with family. Even now, I know at that moment, I was angry enough and sad enough nothing nice would have come out of my mouth. Even now, I say "WHY? Look how much you hurt the ones that loved you." Even now I know if I had gone home, I would have raged against the "friends" that were his fellow users. I want to say my own goodbye and honor the kid that I once shoved out of the way when he was gonna get a spanking and defiantly yelled at my god-mother, "He didn't do it! I did!" I want to privately say goodbye to the man I hugged who rushed to a gas station to see me when he heard I was in town. I want to honor that man who said he loved me and he knows I'm always a phone call away.
Please respect that choice. I've carried a heavy burden lately.
There's been other crap that has been just crap in between there. Rushing to a hospital an hour and a half away at 1 a.m. to sit with someone I love to make sure she was okay. Family arguments, that leave me exasperated.Trying to be strong for best friends who have shit going on in their own lives and need me to be who I've always been, the strong one, the caretaker. Knowing that in less than four months Taylor will head into the Army and watching Zachary fill out applications to become a foreign exchange student and fill out scholarship applications and college apps.
Don't get me wrong, I know it's time to let them do some flying of their own. I still wonder every night if I've prepared them. Have I given them enough love? Have I given them enough strength? Have I shown them the world can be beautiful, or the world can be painful and given them the tools to cope?
I laugh when I think how selfish it is that I question "When Taylor is gone, who's gonna get up with me in the mornings and start my car? Who's always gonna keep track of the first aid kit, since him and I are the ones that need it most? Who's gonna point out that with my hair in pigtails and him growing a beard, he looks more like my sibling than my son? Who's gonna exasperate me that much? Who's gonna reach the high shelves for me, even if he mocks me while he does it?"
Knowing that at this time next year, I'll be walking around what is essentially a big empty house without them, without their laughter, without their crazy conversations. And who needs a big empty house anyway?
I will admit that I've been low enough lately that I said to a friend, "Some days I wish I could just quit." I didn't mean it Vicki. Thank god for her, she says I give her strength, but without her, Cari, Matt, the whole damn bunch of them, sometimes I don't know how I'd put one foot in front of the other.
It seems like in moments when I've been lowest, some story comes along that makes me see some light at the end of the tunnel. It's hearing a superintendent talk about a story he read about a survivor, it's hearing a motivational speaker (and ex Navy Seal) talk about how he struggled with reading, but still succeeded. It's watching the fire department train and realizing they risk their lives every single day. It's getting an email that tells me someone is glad they told their story about their struggle with kidney disease and their transplant, because other people have approached her for support. It's watching a community come together to do good for other people. It's riding in a snowplow truck and realizing how much time they're away from their families to keep our roads safe.
And Yes, I've had adventures even with all of this. Between me and my niece, sometimes I don't know who's trying to keep up with who. Shopping, singing in the car, the casino, changing clothes in a parking lot, drinks, laughter, yelling, chasing after a toddler that has already learned the importance of a credit card..we manage to do it all.
Through all of this chaos...and I know everyone is tired of hearing this, I have missed my "Disneyland 990" crew. I've missed waking up in the morning, knowing that no matter how much the job drove me nuts, there would be laughter, there would be jokes, there would be amazing conversation that sometimes left me blushing, sometimes left me speechless and sometimes left me yelling.
For 11 years, those guys were my other family. I miss that comraderie and knowing at the end of it, I was part of a team. We were sometimes dysfunctional, but knew when it came down to it, it was a group effort.
I miss the leadership of some of my coaches. One of who I still text for advice, only to have him remind me "you are a rockstar, and you can get through this."
The day he called me brave for leaving what I always knew, to chase a dream, I laughed at him and told him I'm either brave or incredibly stupid. That one is still undecided.
I wanted to inspire people to be better, to do better. Sometimes I wonder, am I inspiring anyone? Is something I am writing helping someone else to face their challenges and overcome?
My love life, in case you're wondering, still sucks. Although, I did recently give in and let someone take me on a date. Nope, not getting any details.I figured it was time to let someone buy me dinner when my oh so loving uncle told me he had a check for me and when I asked how much, he said "Well I tried to take up a collection from all the boyfriends you've had the last few years, but it didn't amount to a pack of cigarettes." At least he didn't ask me if I'm a lesbian this time.
Sometimes, I just write myself motivational stickies. Sometimes, I remind myself to take my next breath. Sometimes, I remind myself to put the top down and feel the wind through my hair (on the car guys, on the CAR). Sometimes, I just have to remind myself to breathe.
I have no idea where my path is going these days. I have no idea what happens tomorrow. I just know, I'm tough enough to take that next breathe. I'm strong enough to keep taking steps. I can't just collapse and have to keep moving. I guess no matter how many plans I try to make, life still happens.
I leave myself and you with these words, the words of William Shakespeare as a reminder to myself and to anyone else who may need them, "Though she be little she is fierce." Maybe I out to tattoo that on me somewhere as a reminder.
