Woke up late today and I
Still feel the sting of the pain, but I
Brushed my teeth anyway
I got dressed through the mess and put a smile on my face
I got a little bit stronger

Ridin’ in the car to work and I’m
Tryin’ to ignore the hurt, so I
Turned on the radio
Stupid song made me think of you
I listened to it for a minute
But then I changed it
I’m gettin’ a little bit stronger
Just a little bit stronger

It doesn’t happen overnight, but you
Turn around and a month’s gone by, and you
Realize you haven’t cried
I’m not givin’ you an hour or a second or another minute longer
I’m busy gettin’ stronger

I’m gettin’ along without you
I’m better off without you
How does it feel without me?
I’m gettin’ stronger without you

And I’m done thinkin’
That you could ever change
I know my heart will never be the same
But I’m tellin’ myself I’ll be okay
Even on my weakest days
I get a little bit stronger
I get a little bit stronger

I’m just a little bit stronger
a little bit, a little bit
A little bit stronger

~Sara Evans

I had the day off, yesterday. Today, I had early meetings, so I had to go in a couple hours sooner than usual. I left the house at 7:30, and got home from work right at 6:30 this evening. I decided tonight was a good one for a “fend” supper. Everybody heated up some leftover sloppy joes, taco lasagne, and ham and cheesy potatoes from the other suppers I made this week. I’m sitting down in my basement watching the latest episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I am off this Saturday, and we’re closed on Monday for Martin Luther King Jr Day.

Monday is also Inauguration Day. Former president Donald Trump is about to become our president once again. Honestly, I wasn’t particularly surprised he won. Americans have grown sick and tired of “the establishment” and all their bullshit. Personally, I am glad to see him surrounding himself with people like Tulsi Gabbard, Elon Musk, and I really like RFK Jr. I don’t agree with his views on everything, but I appreciate his passion and dedication to serving Americans. Same with Tulsi, and even folks like John Fetterman. It makes me hopeful that genuine people are reaching across the political aisle. It is a serious risk, with real consequences, for them. So, I respect them for it.

We got an update from Adam’s mom, last night. She has triple negative breast cancer, which is the most aggressive form to get. It has also spread to her lymph nodes. She will be getting a port put in, so her chemo can begin, next week. They will be taking lymph nodes out, to further test, too. She told us she had gone and picked out two wigs, yesterday. Her chemo will be very aggressive, and she was informed her hair will be gone by the second treatment. I so want to be able to do something to help her. I decided to buy her a Samsung galaxy smartwatch. She uses a Samsung phone, so I figured that made more sense than an Apple Watch. I thought it could maybe give her a little peace of mind. It has fall detection and SOS, as well as detailed health monitoring features. We picked out a card to send along with the watch.

It’s perfect.

I need to go take a shower, pack Adam and Mj’s lunches for tomorrow, and get to bed. I’d like to have some energy to get laid again, tonight. Last night was the first time we’ve had sex in over a week. I never would’ve believed our sex life could dwindle so much. It’s not because we don’t want to. It’s just not so easy, anymore. One or both of us is either exhausted, or emotionally drained from the chaos that clutters our minds most of the time. Anyway, I’m planning to get some tonight, so long as there’s nothing extra to mess up the little headspace I’ve cleared especially for some passion and intimacy with my husband. The kind with no clothes on. We share lots of intimacy, in plenty of other ways. I miss being able to enjoy that kind, as much and as often as we always did before, though.

I see your fire and brimstone
That billboard sign on the road
But you can’t scare me to heaven
With gasoline on my soul

This that backroad baptism
Weed smokin’, syrup sippin’
Whiskey river carry me home

I’ve been known to find my kind of people
That ain’t at home underneath church steeples
You’d be surprised the places I find Jesus
That ain’t the regular crowd

I’ve been down and out
I’m better with the lost
Than the found
My solid ground
Is better with the lost
Than the found

Lord, won’t you hear my prayers?
I’m better with the lost than the found
It’s where I find my solid ground

~Jelly Roll

This has already been a long week, and we’re only halfway through Wednesday! I got a phone call, early Monday morning, from Mj’s best friend’s family. Her best friend (T) had intentionally overdosed and was rushed to Vanderbilt hospital. She had taken a bottle of Tylenol, and it wasn’t discovered for hours. Her kidneys and her liver weren’t doing well, and we were incredibly afraid. These girls are still SO young! They haven’t even finished middle school, yet. My sweet Mj was reeling from this, and I wasn’t sure how to help her. T is actually doing much better now, physically.

Monday evening, Adam’s mom called. She was calling to update us on the latest news regarding her breast cancer diagnosis. Her doctors are very concerned, so she’s meeting with her surgeon and oncologist tomorrow. They intend to get her treatment started right away. My heart aches for T and her family, and aches for my mother in law. But, it’s torturous seeing my baby and my husband so afraid and sad. I know we aren’t supposed to, but I can’t help but ask myself why? Why does it seem like every time our broken pieces are finally starting to heal, something, or things, show up just in time to bust through the progress we believed we were making? Why won’t this onslaught of awfulness end? Why is life, or God, or karma, or whatever the fuck is behind the wheel, intent on steering us off the road we’re trying so hard to build over and over again? When will it be over? What do we do? How do we fight? Where do we go?

I’m struggling with anger that forms in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, for me. I’m frustrated, because it seems impossible to escape the hurt that plagues my family. I exert all my efforts towards helping my family get well, but it’s not enough. I can’t fix anything, because shit just won’t quit falling apart. I’m pissed off, to be back on my ass after just barely gathering the strength and courage to stand up, every fucking time. My anger grows, and fuels pure hot rage, if I can’t get it under control. I daydream about finding a cozy place. One I can be content and happy inside, and then remain there forever. If only I could draw from my memories, selecting a time when everything felt beautiful and right. I think I would be perfectly willing to trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday, if I could stay there. I wonder if that’s what Heaven is like? No worries. No regrets. No sorrow. Only prefect days and nights for eternity.

I’m not considering harming myself in any way whatsoever. Not on purpose, anyhow. Clearly, I have a problem with maintaining health and wellness. That certainly isn’t my intention, though. I want so badly to find a way out from under the dark clouds that form over us everywhere we attempt to find shelter. I sometimes wonder, is it me they’re after? Am I bringing this rain and by proxy, soaking everyone I love in it? Then, I think about what a narcissistic thought that really is. While I am responsible for my actions and reactions, I do recognize I’m not to blame for every painful situation my family and I face. As much as I probably would, if I could, I know I can’t write or rewrite anyone else’s story. Hell, I’m not even in charge of my own. I wish I could use some sort of magic pen and eraser to create all the joy and goodness I desire for those I care about, while removing every tear they’ve shed, along with all the disappointment and heartbreak they don’t deserve. All I know how to do is be there for them. I try to foster my own well being, because I know I need it to be able to give them support, encouragement, hope. I can’t waste the precious little I am able to gather inside my own “cup”, by pouring into people or things that aren’t worth it. I very much want to use my time, energy, and resources for the ones who need and value those things from me. I am failing my family, otherwise. I can’t stand to see myself let them down, because I’ve used up what I had to give, and drained my “cup” empty. Instead of crying about yesterday, or worrying myself sick over what may or may not happen tomorrow, it’s time to turn the majority of my focus on today. What do I need, today? What do they need, today? What can I do to make today better for all of us? Tomorrow, I can ask these same questions, and maybe even have answers.

What do I need, today? I need to let go of my anxiety and fears of disappointing people at my work, if I’m not there. That’s my need right now, because the next question concerning my family’s needs is easily answered. They need me. They need me to find myself again, and to be the wife and mom they’re being deprived of while I’m too busy pouring myself into a job I don’t even care about, and coming up empty for the ones I care about most.

What can I do to make today better for all of us? Fill my “cup”, and pour into my family.

Just wanted to leave this here. I think it’s the first slideshow I’ve only smiled as I watched without the familiar ache that usually comes as I view them, in much too long a while. We do find some happy together. We’re picking up our broken pieces, and we’re building something new and different. While some parts simply cannot be mended or replaced, we will fill the vacancies with something new to love, as best we can. There are some parts that are in the process of healing. Parts I am only recently discovering could be mended. I think, in my grief and despair, I lost faith in everything. I couldn’t see how any of the things I cherished would ever be salvageable. My whole world had been damaged, and much of it irreparably. Not all of it, though. I discarded all the pieces, in my disbelief they would fit into the new me and this different life of mine. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t have to let go of all that mattered to me, because some was gone. Maybe I was punishing myself? Whatever the reason, I’m motivated to sort through the mess and to pick back up as much as I possibly can. I want to do things I used to enjoy. I want to spend time doing things that make me feel like me. Simple stuff, like turning on some music while I clean and organize and decorate my home. Like baking with my children. Like taking Oliver on a walk. As easy as that might seem, I have built roadblocks for myself that prevented me from easily finding my way back to those things. I made myself too busy and too distracted to have the time. I’m ready to make time, now. So, I’m actually learning to dance in the rain. I am finding hope and just enough faith that this storm will pass. One day, we’ll again be able to bask in the warmth of the sun shining brightly upon us. Every so often, that sunshine does peek through these clouds. It reminds me that this too shall pass. That’s something I spent a lot of time convinced just wasn’t possible. Slowly, in nearly unnoticed tiny steps, I’ve managed to move forward. Those steps, however small, add up. Suddenly, I’m able to look back and see that we have moved toward a much more comfortable place. Although the storm isn’t over for us yet, it will be. I just have to keep going. Eventually, we’ll get there, and then it’ll be time for a whole new adventure.

❤️

And I’m never all alone ’cause I’m always in my mind
It’s feeling like a war that I never wanna fight
It’s a never-ending cycle, maybe I’m a psycho
Every single night though, I’m always in my mind so
Don’t tell me I been wrong ’cause I don’t know what’s right
I’m living in a sad song that keeps me up at night
Don’t tell me I been wrong

Do it by my lonely and don’t let no one in
Nobody console me, I’m praying it’s the end
I’m torn and they can’t sow me and nobody can mend
I’m screaming at the church, “Is there somebody you can send?”
‘Cause I feel like it’s hell, smiling, nobody can tell
I’m on my knees praying so much it’s looking like I fell
And I don’t really wanna keep making sad songs, making me feel bad
Hiding crying eyes from my baby, God please come bless [me]
Don’t tell me I been wrong

~OverTime & Krizz Kaliko

We got some snow here, on Friday. We were all off work and school, due to the predicted snowstorm. It was a lot of fun, just hanging out with my family. We played some games. Everybody had a snowball fight. I made sloppy joes/nachos, for supper. I loved so much about that day. I can’t help but ache at least a little bit, though. Everyone’s smiles just aren’t quite as big as before. Or, maybe it’s just me?

We absolutely do have a great time, together. It’s just never the same. I know I have to get right with that. It’s so hard not to think about what once was, though. I’m trying like hell.

I watch that video, and I see the great big grins. I hear the laughter that used to be the music I danced to every single day. Today, it’s a mixture of songs that grace my playlists. Some days are better than others. It hasn’t been a bad day, today. Yesterday was even better than today. I’ve just been thinking is all.

I went to work, this morning. I took a real pretty photo of the snow and the trees, on my way.

I’m at the beginning stages of a cold. My whole head’s congested and my throat hurts. I made fiastadas for everyone, for supper. Now, I’m fixing to sit under a warm blanket and watch some old reruns of the tv show, Roseanne.

There’s a black bird perched outside my window
I hear him calling
I hear him sing
He burns me with his eyes of gold to embers
He sees all my sins
He reads my soul

One day that bird, he spoke to me
Like Martin Luther
Like Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We’ll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You’ll touch the hand of God
And He’ll make you king
And He’ll make you king

On a blanket made of woven shadows
Flew up to heaven
On a raven’s glide
These angels have turned my wings to wax now
I fell like Judas grace denied

On that day that he lied to me
Like Martin Luther
Like Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We’ll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You’ll touch the hand of God
And He’ll make you king
And He’ll make you king

I walk among the children of my fathers
The broken wings, betrayal’s cost
They call to me but never touch my heart, now
I am too far
And I’m too lost

All I can hear is what he spoke to me
Like Martin Luther
Like Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We’ll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You’ll touch the hand of God
And He’ll make you king
And He’ll make you king

So now I curse that raven’s fire
You made me hate, you made me burn
He laughed aloud as he flew from Eden
You always knew, you never learn

The crow no longer sings to me
Like Martin Luther
Or Pericles

~The White Buffalo & The Forest Rangers

These are two of my favorite scenes from Sons of Anarchy. The first, because it so perfectly illustrates my own struggles, in processing all the conflicting emotions I feel after the hurt and the betrayal of people I’ve loved. In a metaphorical sense, I’ve had to “kill” them much like Jax did his mom. I have to let go of the future I believed in, and people I expected to be there. I picked the second clip, because it also beautifully captures the anger that overwhelms me, sometimes. I’m angry at any and everyone I’ve welcomed along the path that’s led me to this place I’m in, and I look at them and I think, Look what you did to me! What’s happening to me? What happened to me?

I’ve only begun to realize that much of this frustration around feeling like I’ve lost myself, is not necessarily a result of others wrongdoings. Who I am is actually a choice for me to make. No one else has the power to control the way I think, feel, act, and move on. Those things are mine to decide.

These last several long months, I’ve agonized over who and what I’ve lost. I’ve been trying to figure out who I am without them. So much has changed. I’ve gone around pretending to be someone I know I’m not. I act interested in things I’m not. I say things I don’t mean. I do things I don’t want to do. I smile when I really want to cry. I get angry and lash out because I’m scared, and too afraid to admit that to most anybody else. I keep silent when I want to speak up. I play a variety of characters for everyone, attempting to think, do, feel, and act in the ways the character they expect would.

Recently, I’ve recognized a sort of spark that’s been begging to be ignited again, within myself. I have enormous fears about allowing that to happen. Yet somehow, I’m finding just enough “fuel” to ignite that flame. I feel it growing, and it gives me strength and courage I wasn’t convinced I’d ever get back. I have an opportunity right now. I’m scared as hell to fail, if I take it. I consider what a fool I’ll prove myself to be, if I can’t make it work. I think of how badly it hurts when people pretended to cheer me on and celebrate my successes, only to abandon me when I fell down. I also wonder, what would future me be saying to me now? I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to my own question.

In this life, we are given opportunities to plant and cultivate the tiniest of seeds we’ve sown for ourselves. We can’t know when or how those opportunities will present themselves. They just do. Maybe the timing isn’t the most convenient? Maybe there are a thousand reasons you can think of to let it pass by? Somehow, I’m absolutely positive there will be regret, for chances not taken. Choosing not to seize any and every opportunity that is given will almost certainly lead to a lifetime of questioning what if. What if I hadn’t given into my fears? What if I had just believed in myself enough to take a risk on what could turn into something amazing. Something I knew I was capable of. Something I may spend the rest of my life never being offered another opportunity to do, and one day die never realizing a dream that might’ve been.

I’m standing here today, with my toes barely dipped into an ocean full of possibilities. As safe as I feel, testing the waters, I’m fully aware of a choice I must make. I have to dive in, convinced in my ability to swim, while acknowledging the possibility I might sink instead. Or, I can choose to stand on the edge of the unknown, and allow my fear of it to prevent me from ever taking a chance on myself.

When you try your best, but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

~Coldplay

I had my second therapy appointment, this evening. I talked about something I’d heard on a podcast, this past week. The person on the podcast said that most people with PTSD don’t have it just because somebody hurt them. We all get hurt. It happens because they encountered someone who wanted to hurt them. That had hit me hard, because for me, that spoke volumes. I told the therapist an example would be my mom. As far back as I can remember, she could be so kind and generous and thoughtful, but as quickly as if a switch was flipped, her eyes would completely change. She would look at me and she hated me. I never understood why or knew when it would happen. I didn’t understand there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent or change it, either. I tried so hard to say and do and act everything I believed would “bring her back”. When that failed to work, I had no doubt it was because I had failed. Something was wrong with me. I was bad.

He asked me what music young me listened to, and what she liked to wear. I described myself as having flare jeans with Doc Martin boots on, and baby blue hair clips in my hair. The Backstreet Boys or N’Sync would’ve been playing their songs on my stereo. Then, he asked me what would I say to that girl if she walked into the room with me now, with her baby blue hair clips and her little Doc Martin boots on… Tears instantly stung in my eyes. I could see that young girl. I knew what she was thinking. What she was feeling. I knew all her secrets. I knew every single thing about her. I knew exactly what she needed. She needed to know that her nose isn’t too big. That her hair is beautiful, and I’d show her how to work with her curls rather than desperately trying to brush them out. She needed to be wrapped in a hug and told I love you until it was no longer a shock to get these things from someone who meant it. Maybe even she would get annoyed with me for constantly reminding her of them.

The therapist and I discussed all this and more, until our hour had passed. Afterward, I was standing in my kitchen, making another cup of my vanilla cappuccino, when a thought suddenly formed and it washed over me in such a way, I was rocked by the profoundness in it.

What if future me, 20 or so years from now, is sitting on a couch with tears streaming down her face because she’s thinking about all the things she wishes present me could know about herself? Things present me so needs to hear and really believe.

And then I considered, what does present me need?

And then, I sat down, because all I knew was that I needed to write these thoughts. I’m not yet sure the answers to my own questions here. However, the simple fact that I’m asking them of myself, for myself, is in itself a huge deal. Perhaps present me truly doesn’t understand what exactly it is she needs right now. If future me loves present me as much as present me loves past me, though, I’m already finding something that matters a whole lot to me. And, unexpectedly, I’m even giving it to myself in this moment.

You’re broken down and tired
Of living life on a merry go round
And you can’t find the fighter
But I see it in you so
We gonna walk it out
And move mountains

And I’ll rise up
I’ll rise like the day
I’ll rise up
I’ll rise unafraid
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
And I’ll rise up
High like the waves
I’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again

For you
For you
For you

~Andrea Day

This morning, Mj came with me to my doctor’s appointment. We sang along to music, on the drive, and had fun just spending some time together. Even if it was just going to a boring appointment.

What we had no way of knowing, was that someone we love was also at a doctor’s appointment, at the very same time. Only, hers didn’t go like my mundane checkup visit went.

This evening, after Adam and I both got home from work, we got a phone call. It was his mom. His mom, his 2 brothers, and our niece and nephew had just been here with us, over Thanksgiving. We all had a great time together. His mom had been keeping a secret, waiting to find out whether it was one worth sharing, because she didn’t want us to worry. She’d found a lump in her breast. This morning, she drove herself to the appointment for the biopsies. I say biopsies, because they’d discovered more than one tumor in her breast. She has been diagnosed with breast cancer. These biopsy results will be in, in a few days, and will determine exactly what her treatments will look like. She is going to be starting chemotherapy, radiation, and will also likely have surgery.

His mom is genuinely one of the toughest people I’ve ever known. Her courage is unmatched. She and I spoke, after she talked with Adam, and she told me she has had zero anxiety over this. She says she knows the next two years are going to be hell, but after that, it’s going to be alright. She’s going to be okay.

I’ve mentioned it before, but Adam lost his dad to cancer, when Mj was just a baby. Three short months later, his best friend since childhood also died of cancer. His dad had only just turned 50 years old, when he passed away. His best friend was only 25 years old. He left behind his wife and baby girl, who is actually just a few months older than our Mj is. My husband has had enormous pressure on him, these last several months. He had, and has, an incredible amount of shit, really painful shit, he’s carrying on his shoulders. Learning of his mom’s cancer diagnosis certainly must add more weight than I can imagine. I don’t know how he does it.

I don’t mean to make any of this about me, not at all! But, what I’m realizing is that I’m going to have to put my big girl britches on. He needs me. The very last thing I should be is another burden he has to carry. It’s time for me to put myself back together, and be strong enough to be able to be the wife he needs and deserves. We’re partners. Sure, he’s the husband, with husband roles and responsibilities. That does not mean that I, as his wife, can’t or shouldn’t be willing and able to provide the tenderness, comfort, strength, and care for him like he always does for me. It doesn’t mean he won’t, or shouldn’t, need me sometimes. I can’t physically carry him the way he does me, but I sure as hell can support him in any and every other way he needs me to. He never shows it, but he’s hurting too. He’s been just as heartbroken as I have, maybe more. Adding on the news about his mom absolutely cannot be easy on him. Though he doesn’t admit it, I know him, and I can feel the heaviness in his heart. I see the concern he’s hiding behind his tough exterior. I love him so much. That love propels me forward, with speed and strength I couldn’t possess otherwise. I have to be okay. No more excuses to remain parked inside my own sadness. It’s time for me to get it together, and allow him the security of at least knowing he doesn’t need to carry me too, right now.

As for Adam’s mom, she wouldn’t ever ask, but I’m going to do whatever I can to be there for her, also. If she needs someone to take her to appointments, to take care of her, or just to listen, I’ll always be available. Like every other obstacle that’s been thrown at us, we will get through this. All of us.

And give me something to believe in
If there’s a Lord above
And give me something to believe in
Oh, Lord, arise

~Poison

I’ve got some big things being set in motion. Some good things, I think.

I was home, today. I did a lot of housework. I scrubbed baseboards, vacuumed and swept and mopped all our floors. I have an appointment with my regular doctor, tomorrow. Mj is going to come along. Her best friend (T) is coming to stay the weekend here, too. I’m planning to go into work, around 1:00, tomorrow afternoon. I had a phone meeting, this evening, that I’m honestly kind of excited about. I can’t even describe the relief that I feel, just having some sense of control over my own life again. Being in a position to make decisions about where I’m going, how, and when. There are still many unknowns. Of course, I recognize none of us can possibly know for certain what our tomorrows hold. We make plans anyway. It’s simply making plans and trusting I’ll have opportunities to see them through, which gives me this quiet calm I’ve so missed. For too long, I didn’t have the courage to attempt to make any real plans for myself. I lacked the faith required to do so. In order to make plans, we must first believe they could happen. I had little to no confidence in what my tomorrows held. I felt powerless against the forces pressing against me, insisting I stay down. Daring to challenge what was already yanking me any direction except where I wanted to go, had seemed futile. I grew tired of fighting it, and I understood utter hopelessness for the first time in my life. I learned that, no matter how deep a hole I’ve been stuck inside, and then managed to crawl back out into the sunlight…life contains many “holes”. And, there’s always one deeper I could fall into at any moment. I can’t plan for it. I won’t see it coming. That realization and the fears of finding myself trapped inside an even bigger hole, before I’m even able to climb from this one, have been holding me back from choosing to take steps forward on my own. Sure, I can be carried, pushed, or pulled. It takes an enormous amount of bravery for me to actually begin to put one foot in front of the other, aiming high again.

I’m looking up and moving on. As much as I can right now, anyway.

I switched from Spotify to Apple Music, back in June. While I was putting some music on earlier in the afternoon, I noticed there was this “year in review” featuring my music choices since I’d started using Apple Music. For me, song lyrics are almost like therapy. I have songs that will forever be the background music played as my mind replays moments and memories that span my lifetime. There are songs for everything. Lyrics that speak the emotions I can’t express. Every single experience, whether it’s the depths of my pain or my highest of highs, has a song featured in its highlight reel. There’s a unique playlist for every year of my life, too. This is mine, for 2024.

Maybe 2025 will bring a whole new playlist, that’s filled with music I’ll look at next year and think to myself, this was when I accepted what was and started daring to imagine what could be. Maybe this year will be the year I turned things around and accomplished some big dreams of mine. Maybe Niko Moon’s “No Sad Songs” will be prominently featured in my mind’s replay of 2025. The fact that I’m able to believe in the possibility of these maybes is proof positive, I’m not completely hopeless anymore. That’s not nothing, either. It’s enough for now.

I just wanted to say, I appreciate all the comments from everyone who takes the time to leave me words of encouragement and comfort. I haven’t done a good job of answering them, but I read them all, and it means more than y’all could ever know. Thank you for continuing along with me, through this season of my life, and for sticking around even when I’m not able to give much back here. ❤️

~Matt Nathanson

My phone memories made a compilation of photos from New Year’s Eve over the years. 💔❤️

We did have a good time, last night. We played “Cards Against Humanity”, and had some laughs. It’s the first time we’d gotten that game out, since the last time we played it with Justin and Jackie. It’s the little things like that, that are why I often describe even the happy moments as being always coated in sadness. We all stood outside, on our deck, and counted down the last seconds of 2024. Fireworks all over the neighborhood went off, as everyone rung in the new year. Adam kissed me, and I fought the tears that threatened to escape from my eyes. It hurts more than I knew I could hurt, missing so many people who should be here. The people we always celebrated with. People we won’t ever share our holiday fun with, again. People we can’t lean on, while we go through the most challenging time of our lives. There were cheers and kisses. There was laughter and silliness. Even so, the vacant seats always reserved for them are impossible to ignore.

I wish I could make it stop. I would give just about anything to fill these empty spaces. I’m really, really trying. Sometimes, my sadness morphs into anger. I become frustrated, because there’s nowhere to “put” my emotions. I can either take them out on my husband and children, or stuff them down as deep as possible. I do my best to cover up my true feelings, because acknowledging them only ends with a flood of all the pent up anger, hurt, sadness, grief, helplessness, and hopelessness that spills out onto any and everyone in my path.

I had a pretty good day, today. I loved being able to spend the day cleaning and tackling lots of things I’ve been meaning to get done. It feels so good to have all our laundry folded and put away. I made meatballs, scalloped potatoes, and apple fritters for supper. I got the kitchen all cleaned up. I need to make Adam’s lunch, for tomorrow. Then, we’ll go take our shower. There’s been a space between Adam and I, lately. I can’t explain it, and I don’t mean for it to happen. Not consciously, anyway. But, I’m distant from everyone, including my husband. I’m closed off. In hiding, as if I’m hibernating until this storm finally passes. There’s nothing more to say to them. It’s like being trapped in that old movie, Groundhog Day. I’ve tried everything I can think, to wake up in a tomorrow that doesn’t look exactly the same as yesterday. It’s always the same, though. So, what more can I possibly say, that hasn’t already been said about a thousand times? I want to be silly with Adam. I want to want to run my hands over every inch of his body, and feel the ecstasy that came with his hands and his lips on mine. I want to wrap my hands and lips around his manhood, and to moan with pleasure as he moves inside me. Hell, I even kind of want to remember what it’s like to be picked up and bent over his knees, and then spend the following day reminded, every time I sit down! I want to push him just hard enough to get a reaction, because at least that’d be something other than what we’ve been doing together. Coexisting. Writing these things has me pondering, now. Adam and I are either going to fuck or fight, tonight. I want a glimpse of the man who could give me goosebumps with just a look. I miss that guy, and I’m very aware it’s me who’s been shutting him out.