part 2

So here's where my head was this weekend. I was hanging out on the beach with my two best boys on Saturday, having this completely Zen moment, watching my boys and other children on different races and cultures intermingling and playing together without a care in the world. These were people who in their regular lives wouldn't cross paths in their regular lives spending the day away from whatever stresses or sadness waits for them in their everyday life. My kids, and other kids, accepted Hispanic, black and Asian kids as readily as someone they saw everyday at school. I was pondering how the kids have it so right and we as adults have it so wrong.
So that's where i was coming from, and as the end drew on my time there, this pissiness began to creep inwards and got more and more pronounced. As I said earlier, it finally occurred to me I didn't want to go home. And it wasn't the kids, we had a great time this weekend. I simply didn't want to go back to any part of my life here. I had nothing to look forward to. Theres nothing in my life thats mine I know I've said that before. I played with so many ideas today, ranging from new ink to going blonde to packing us all up and starting over somewhere else, and everything in between. Nothing feels like the right choice. Usually when i find the right answer, it just clicks in my head, and nothing gave me that zing. So i look onward. I know what wont fix it. This cant be fixed by a guy, or a haircut or a new toy. I don't know how to fix this. I expect more of myself than this.
I think if i were to dig I would find that I do and do and do for everyone else, but rarely does anyone do back. This is not to whine and keep score and  moan poor poor me. Its just a fact. And there was a time I took pride in this role, being in control and in charge. But was this feeling of being in control an illusion? Maybe I only wanted to think I was in control, because it was what I needed to believe at the time. Bottom line here, my life is thoroughly off track. There is only one person fix this. I think up until this point I figured  something or someone would come along that would change this, and so far not so much. I think this is my time to find my own voice. I just wish I had some idea what I'm supposed to do now. I really cant just quit my job, I have kids who need me to work and pay the bills. I can say I'm gonna and think about it, but in reality my responsibilities have to take priority. My kids count on me to provide for them. I cant just pack up and move away, cause it would be detrimental to their well being after all they have been through in the past year. They are only now finding their security again and I cant yank that out from under them right now. So where does that leave me? Right in the same rut that got me on this tangent in the first place.
Is it possible I've been this off track for a while and I just hadn't seen it until now? Could it be said I've been covering for a while and i finally have some clarity? I keep asking myself what will fix this, what will make me smile at the end of the day? It could be possible this is a cumulation of stress from working everyday at a job that deadens my soul. I sometimes spend an hour plus at work sitting at my desk fantasizing about telling my boss I quit. But then when I'm out of money and still have no job, what do I do then? The car loan people do not care about my existential crisis. The bank does not care about my joy. I cannot buy groceries with thoughts about my inner workings. I love my kids, and I love them in my life. They are the one aspect that I wouldn't change a thing about. At least that much I do know.
I feel like there is something in myself that wants to be heard, but i dont know how to give it a voice. The essence of me and  what I have to offer is silent and waiting. I dont know how to look for it, how to identify that thing that is me. I can feel it there an sometimes I catch a glimpse of it, and then just as quickly its gone. I want more. I want to let that thing out.

too early for a midlife crisis?

After I spent three glorious days at the beach with my kids, I came home with the kids only to find a seriously foul mood decending on me as I drove home. This is unusual for me. Usually the beach is fun but home is nice. After getting home my mood went further and further south. Crabby and snapping at the kids and just being an all around pill to be around. I sat and tried to analyze my motives, and it finally occurred to me, I didn't want to come home, to come back to the life that waited for me here. My job, living with mom the stress, all of it is becoming too much. Everyday that goes by the walls seem to close in just a little more. I have spent the day weighing several fixes, everything from a new tattoo to walking into work tomorrow and quitting my job. I really don't know how to fix this. I don't make enough to move out and in this economy I don't feel secure in quitting without something lined up. I've been feeling progressively more and more isolated recently and I think the ever increasing stress is mostly to blame gfor this. For once, I'm at a loss. I feel who I am shifting but for once I have no plan or direction. I need to get out of this rut I'm in but I can't find a shovel. So another day goes by and I wiggle an inch or two deeper into my rut. I need a change. Stay tuned, I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out.

I want to change my life

"In order to create the life you want, you must change your life." Someone said this on TV tonight and it really resonated with me. For those of you who know me, I have wanted to make some changes in my life for some time, yet this intertia seems to have taken over that leaves me right where I am. I say I want to excersize, but I sit on the couch. I say I want to quit smoking, but I buy another pack. I say I hate my job, but I stuill go every day. If I change nothing, how do I expect anything ot change? In order to create the life I want, the one that seems to dance just in front of me, I need to change something, anything. My life does not support  these improvements as it is. I need to change, in order to change. Does that make sense to anyone but me? If I do not change my life the things I want will remain just that, the things I want. Not the things I have. I talked about going to school but if I had not adjusted my life in order to make room for school it would not have worked out. I would have gone for a while, and over time it would have fizzled out because I didn't change my life to allow for it. I changed my life, and here I am two weeks away from being done. I changed my life, so my life supported my ability to follow through. If I can do that, I have to think about what comes next. No more excuses.

Family Dynamics

Human and family dynamics are a fascinating thing. My mom had issues with her mom for her entire life because she forever came in second to her brother simply because she was a girl. Was she did was fine, but could never once measure up to what he was able accomplish. In the actions and words of her mother, nothing she ever did was quite good enough. I have complained all of my life that she is exactly the same way and doesn’t see it. She was always very critical of my, and not so much of my brother. When I was old enough to understand the irony of this situation I chose to see the humor in it. My best laid plans were not going to measure up. I have long since stopped trying and really I’ve made as much peace with it as I can. She is blind to her tendencies, and nothing I do or say will ever change that.




Ever since the fire she has become very clingy and needy, asking more and more of me as time goes on. I cut grass, clean the house do the laundry, run the errands, take out the trash and take care of the dog and kids. She’s stopped driving after dark sp any evening errands fall on my shoulders as well. This is not a complaint, exactly, as I feel its my job to take care of her, since my dad is not here to do it. As time passes the list of what I handle gets longer and longer. That’s not to say she does not pitch in, we alternate weeks buying groceries, and last week it was her turn.



And this is where it starts to get funny: She comes home from the store and she bought some of the wrong things. I’m picky about my food; I’m the first to admit it. But there’s the wrong jelly, the wrong cream cheese, and so on. Nothing serious, but enough to irk me. I say nothing, of course because really is cream cheese worthy of hurting someone else’s feelings? It gets funny here because of the voice that piped up in my head when I saw the errors. All I could think was “Jeez, its one trip to the grocery store, couldn’t you even do that right?” Harsh, right? Which is why I silenced the voice. As hyper critical my grandmother was, (and she was, I can assure you), and growing up under a person who was also very critical, I have become the same way towards the person that created the behavior in the first place. That’s where I find the humor. I have become her only its directed towards her instead of my children. Funny thing is I swing the other way towards the boys. At least I hope I do. I tend to be a little more agreeable and a little more lenient than she was, because I want to break the cycle. I think the critical voice comes out towards her because she was the one that spawned it in the first place. She has become a fragile person who needs care. I know I will not ever be able to clear the air between us, ashes simply not ever going to be a place where we could without that critical voice coming out and really hurting her feelings. That voice makes itself known here and there, with little things, like asking me to take the dog out after I’m in bed. These requests usually come with the internal response of “What’s the matter, not strong enough to do it yourself?” Like I said this voice never sees the light of day. But even knowing the voice exists, knowing I have the freedom to think these things is like my internal retribution towards her. To know, I COULD say it, but I choose not to, is enough for me to feel like the scales are tipping to a more equitable balance. I’m not saying it’s the best solution, but at least for us for now, it seems to balance out.

who am I?

So I find myself forced to wonder, as I watch my son process the fact that we are away over night, that as I observe his process, I'm forced to wonder about my own. I have to ask a question of anyone who reads this post, my goal is for honesty, not an ego boost. Am I any different from the person I was before before my house had the nerve to catch fire? I don't really feel any different, yet I have to wonder if I am and I'm the only one who doesn't see it. Is it possible who I am, under the surface had chaged and I'm the only one who doesn't see it. I firmly believe if you do not acknowledge who you have bern you cannot really call where you want to go. I want to grow but if I don't accept who I was! Good and bad, that can't happen. I encourage responses that involve honesty, even if you think its something I don't want to hear. I need to know who I was and I can't until I know who I was. Can't wait for a response!

progress is slow and halting

So when it comes to Patrick and his recovery from the fire, I'm afraid I'd let my guard down. I really thought we'd made such progress, I could breathe and resume some semblance of a normal life. And then we went on vacation, and I was reminded how much distance we have yet to cover. This trip, although fun, it totally stressing him out. As I write this he's sleeping in my bed again after a day long attitude problem. This trip is hard for him, being away from home and in a strange place. I had forgotten where he is and where his head is. I'm proud of him for going, and I think the positive memories of coming to this same place last year help. He keeps trying to convince me to let him run off and do things on his own, I think he's running from his own anxiety. He know he wants to be here, but the reality of it is harder when you're there. I had forgotten how hard this was for him to be away from home. Once he quieted down and I asked, he admitted he was stressed. This is actually huge for him to be able to talk about what's in his head. I need to try and focus on getting him to talk about what he's thinking and feeling. The best example I can come up with is he talked the whole way here about how he couldn't wait to sleep in his top bunk bed, then refused to sleep there when the time came. He just needed to be near me and I can accept that. He's here and he's asleep. I remember how bad his first overnight trip after the fire was, and look at where he is now, and I can see he is going in the right direction. I only need to remember to be patient.

looking at old ghosts

Its funny, the role people who were once inportant in your life have when they are no longer there. The first guy I ever loved, I mean the kind of all encompassing, would lay down and die for you love, was John F Rambo. (Insert your appropriate jokes here, I've heard it all before.) I met him when I was 19 or so, and we were joined at the hip from then on. He understood and accepted me like no one else ever has, before or since. He was not perfect, with issues with drugs and violence and family issues that do not need to be detailed here. My parents hated him, and he loved me. Its been 20 years or so since we've dated and about 7 since we spoke. Our relationship was tumulous and rocky. We broke up, we got back together, we fought, but all in all, I loved him, and I loved being with him. He came to me in the lowest, darkest part of my life. I had been crushed and betrayed by my family. And then, just like that, he came to pick me up. He was there for me, to listen and support me, when I needed him. We were a month away from getting married when I called it off. To this day, for reasons I don't understand, I woke up one morning, and realized I couldn't go through with it.

I was looking back on him, and our relationship together, and I see now, we never would have worked. He and I lived and wanted different things from our lives. After we broke up, he found his way into the Philly music and Goth scene, something that never would have interested me. I finished college and went on with my life. We were just too young to understand that then.

And yet, the memory of him lives on even now. I still hold a part of him near me, perhaps as an example of what I think a relationship should be. But, what we had was not what should be. I, quite literally, did not exist without him with me. I almost dropped out of college to make him happy. I dyed my hair black (NOT a good look for me, trust me on this) and tried to fit in with his friends. He tried to be what my parents expected. He tried to maintain the facade they wanted to see. I really beleived I belonged with him. I have to wonder now, as I look back, why I loved him. I should not have. Every girl has their bad boy in their history, maybe he was mine. I don't know why I hang onto him, even now, considering how sick our relationship really was. But yet, there he is, my very own memory.

He's dead now. January of 2004 he died in a wreck in Cherry Hill NJ. I knew it almost right away, as my brother happened to see it in the obits. I'd seen him once or twice here and there, but I never thought someone who consumed me that completely sould be turned off just like that.

So here I am, a handful of memories and the distinct longing for something that really never existed in the first place. Maybe I'm just looking for someone who believes in me the way he did. Maybe I just want to find someone who makes me feel like I matter more than any other aspect of his life. I'm not certain that exists, but I know I want more than the recent sad excuses for men in my life have had to offer. Maybe that's what he was supposed to mean in my life, to show me what could be, if the right person comes along.