Wakin’ up in cold sweat
California King bed
Got the diamond ring set
Shoes that ain’t released yet
Maserati sports car
Singin’ songs that everybody knows
On a guitar
They say I’m a superstar

But, oh
I still got this feeling in my bones
Happens every time that I’m alone
Part of me is feelin’ like a ghost

If I’m bein’ real
I spent my whole life escapin’ the pills
If I’m bein’ real
I think I was happier when I couldn’t pay the bills
If I’m bein’ real
I’m searchin’ for purpose
I feel wealthy but worthless
If I’m bein’ real
I don’t know if it’s worth it

‘Cause I’m haunted by the voice in my head
I’m haunted by the taste of that lead
I wanted too many times to jump off of the edge
Thinkin’ I was better off dead
I’m haunted only every other night
I’m haunted, and I wish I knew why
I wanted too many times to be gone by the mornin’
If I’m honest
Yeah, I’m haunted
Oh
I’m haunted

~Kane Brown & Jelly Roll

I got word, last Friday, my car is officially a total loss. I was that day years old, when I learned that, in Tennessee, a vehicle under 10 years old is considered “totaled” if damages are 75% or more of its current market value (pre accident). Honestly, my car had just turned 8 years old. I got her with 2 miles on the odometer. I put 100k more miles on it. She took us on so many trips and who knows how many school drop offs and pick ups. Even in our accident, she did an absolutely fantastic job keeping B and me safe. I know it’s JUST a car, but I can’t help this guilt I feel, like I killed her. I wasn’t able to save her. Somehow, that seems to be happening with the things I love, at an accelerating pace, and I feel powerless to stem the inevitable waves of chaotic uncertainty, change, fear, and loss.

I’ve never been one to readily embrace life changes. I generally have to be pushed from that ledge. That’s probably why, in those rare times that I do choose to make or keep ahold of particularly unpleasant changes, I mean it. We are where we are, though. I guess it is what it is…

Adam and I are going to go new car shopping, this weekend. I wish it was because I decided to, rather than I have to. I am excited, though. Last year, I was considering my next vehicle purchase. I just really wish some other family was going to be able to love my old one, the way we did. That car was a time capsule, full of so many beautiful memories. It makes me sad to know it’s on the way to a junkyard. Like a representation of so many other people, places, and things I so loved, it’s gone forever.

The other morning, as I was flipping over the next page on my perpetual calendar, it dawned on me what day it was. It was May first. May Day. Instantly, memories flooded through my mind. I remembered exactly what I was doing, exactly one year earlier. I remembered what I’d been doing, the evening before May Day, the year earlier, too. Jackie, Mj, and I went to Kohls. We made May baskets, for the littles to have and hand out, the next morning.

I’m not heartless. If only I could be so “cold” as I’ve been accused. It hurts more than I knew I could hurt, remembering. It’s painful as hell, realizing how much has changed, and how much I just can’t change. Still, it is a beautiful day. Jandrel has been coming over to hang out a lot, lately. We got our pool all ready for Summer. The kids can’t wait to swim. B will be graduating, in just a couple weeks. Mikayla will be moving back home, for the Summer, end of next week. There is a whole lot of good. I just have to remind myself to remember that, some days.

I’m okay.

I’m worthy.

I’m valuable.

I’m beautiful.

I’m loved.

I just need to convince my heart, so I can find the strength to let go of what haunts me.

Daylight dies
Blackout the sky
Does anyone care?
Is anybody there?
Take this life
Empty inside
I’m already dead
I’ll rise to fall again

I can feel you falling away
No longer the lost
No longer the same
And I can see you starting to break
I’ll keep you alive
If you show me the way
Forever and ever
The scars will remain
I’m falling apart
Leave me here forever in the dark

God help me I’ve come undone
Out of the light of the sun

~Breaking Benjamin

We spent Easter weekend with Adam’s family, in Kansas. It was the first time he’d seen his mom, since they were here over Thanksgiving. That was before the cancer diagnosis. She’s very pale, and tires easily, understandably. She wore a blonde wig with a baseball cap, and I actually think it’s adorable on her. We stayed in a hotel. The kids (Mikayla, Jandrel, Brooklyn, and Mj) had one room, and Adam and I had another. We spent the days over at his brother’s house. His mom and his other brother joined us out there, everyday. It was hot as heck here in Tennessee, the day we left. We arrived in Kansas wearing tank tops and shorts, and it was only 38 degrees there! The weather was cold and cloudy the entire time we were there, but everyone still had some fun. Jandrel had a blast trying out dirt bikes and shooting guns.

Brooklyn and Mj also braved the cold and got out on some ATV’s.

For Easter, I made a ham and all the sides, while Adam and his brothers smoked some briskets.

On our last night there, Jan-gee, Mikayla, and B had some fun in our hotel pool. Adam and Mj played poker with his brothers and our niece and nephew, instead of swimming.

We left early, last Monday morning. Tuesday afternoon, I picked B up from school, as usual since her surgery. Just after we pulled out of the school, we got into a pretty bad car accident. Three vehicles were involved, and we were spun around so hard, we landed by crashing into a truck that had stopped. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured, but our vehicles were wrecked. I’m positive one of the cars was totaled. That driver had been driving awfully fast, and hit us without ever hitting her brakes. We should find out, next week, whether mine is totaled, or not. My SUV had transmission fluid pouring out from underneath it. Power steering was gone, and the radiator was also leaking antifreeze and badly damaged. My front end, right side, and back fender and bumper were all crushed. One of the police officers drove B and I home, after all the vehicles were towed away. He was a real kind man, and took extra care to make sure B was okay, especially considering she was already on crutches.

Last Spring, I was actually starting to look into finding myself a new car. But then, our lives changed so dramatically, that purchase just didn’t make sense anymore. I’d intended to wait until we’ve gotten through all the legal mess with Adam and his son. I wanted to get past it, and then use the following few months to save some money up, before revisiting any car dealerships. The same week that we paid the IRS a large chunk of money, we paid an attorney almost $10k. Then, we took our Kansas trip, which needed to happen. Although it was enjoyed by everyone, it wasn’t just a fun vacation. We needed to go see Adam’s mom. Our time with her is so limited, there simply isn’t the option of waiting until it’s a “good time” for us to go on a trip. And then, our first day back home, my car gets wrecked. Badly. I’m not sure whether it’s from the accident, or because of the tension and anxiety I’m having, but I’ve been very sore. The day it happened, I felt perfectly fine, physically. It started the next morning. I had a headache, and my neck and shoulders ached. By the following day, the pain had also migrated further down, into my back and sides. It’s worst on my right side. It feels like a deep bruise around my ribs there. I’m positive there’s no broken ribs. I’ve had broken ribs 3 separate times in my adult life, so I know well the pain of that. I cried out when Adam wrapped his arm around me, squeezing against my right side with his hand. He wasn’t rough with me, and had no idea I’d even been hurting. I hadn’t mentioned it to him. Both of us were caught by surprise, when I reacted the way I did! Thank God, my Brooklyn is doing great, and hasn’t had any problems from our accident. Her 6 week appointment, with her surgeon, was the day after the accident. She is now able to begin physical therapy, and has some exercises to do everyday at home. She can walk with only one of her crutches. Her surgeon wants her to put just half her weight onto that knee, for two more weeks, while she works to build up the muscle mass that’s been lost in that leg. I took a picture of her legs, side by side. It’s incredible how stark the difference is between them, now. She literally can’t just take off walking, like normal, because her leg isn’t strong enough to hold her up without support.

Brooklyn and Mj rode to Knoxville, with Jan-gee, this weekend. They all hung out with Mikayla there. It was just Adam and me at home, all weekend! He asked me to go outside to play cornhole with him, last night. We had a real good time. It was nice to spend time together, talking and laughing.

Adam and I are very much still trapped inside the grip of this battle for our family and our future. There is no how to guide for this shit. All we can do is fight for what we believe is right. Is it, though? Are we right? I truly haven’t the slightest idea, anymore.

I learned something about myself, awhile ago. To my understanding, I never considered myself to have an eating disorder. I always thought they were perpetuated by a distorted body image. Eating disorders were for people who were skin and bones, but never realized it. “Body dysmorphia” and all that. It was months ago, when I realized that wasn’t necessarily the case. Because I have easily recognized the clear contrast between me at a healthy weight, versus otherwise, I hadn’t once considered the possibility that I could actually have a problem categorized within the context of an eating disorder. It simply never occurred to me, until I was presented with a truth I’d never heard. Eating disorders are more clearly explained as a desperate desire for some form of control. When so much of your life feels out of control, the need to find some way, anything to convince yourself you’ve still got power, can be the foundation for unhealthy ways of coping. It isn’t that I don’t wish for a fuller face, bigger boobs, or the curves that a healthy weight brings me. It’s that my primal need for some feeling of control over my mind and body have become much more powerful and important. I decide what, when, and how much goes into my body. How quickly that can and has morphed into something very much resembling addiction, for me! I can’t stop. If I stop, I’ll lose the tiny fraction of control I’ve maintained throughout this chaos. It’s keeping me sane. It’s the only way I find that I can completely control at least this one part of me, of my days and who and what I am now. The logical parts of me understand how destructive and ridiculous those thoughts are. There’s another part of me that’s dominated by my fear of giving up this last bit of choice I’ve got left. When so much of my own life seems to be a series of events I didn’t ask for, never wanted, and feel powerless against, what’s so wrong with hanging onto this one little scrap of control? Just for now. After all, it’s only myself at risk. Doesn’t anybody understand I’m already gone?! What’s the point? Why should I give a shit about potential long term effects of doing what I’ve gotta do today that keeps me alive for tomorrow? I die now, or I die later. So leave me the fuck alone… That’s my thinking, anyway.

A couple weeks ago, my doctor had me get some lab work done. They took a bunch of my blood for testing. I received a list of concerns following those results. My iron is very low. Hemoglobin is very low. My vitamin D is very low. My vitamin B is low. My white blood count is low. My thyroid is completely fucked. My blood sugar is low. My blood pressure is nearly too low, but heart rate is high. My cardiac health is at risk…

I’ve got a problem, and logically, I know it. I haven’t figured out whether or what I’m going to do about it. I have acknowledged there’s something very broken in me. But, what else is new? I’m pretty sure that’s obvious. If I’m brutally honest, I suppose I’m just not able to give two shits about it. Not now. Not yet. When I’m not overwhelmed by chaos and uncertainty, incapable of trusting that there even will be a tomorrow. Then, maybe.

My give a fuck meter was so maxed out, for so long, I truly believe that for my very survival, I’ve largely ignored many things that normally should’ve given me concern. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s more like I don’t believe it matters whether I care or not. In fact, it almost seems the things I do care about are the first ones to fall apart. It doesn’t make a difference what I attempt to do to protect what matters to me. What’s going to happen is just…going to. I can hold my breath, with a death grip on the edge of my seat, or I can shout to the universe, fuck it. Do what you’re gonna do. It may sound ridiculous and strange, but I find relief in that.

When I was a little kid, I once drowned in a lake. Seriously. I was playing “chicken” with other kids, and I was underwater while a kid tried to climb onto my shoulders. I remember the panic, as I was running out of breath. I fought to get him off of me, but nobody knew I was panicking below the water. With incredible clarity, I remember letting go. Accepting that “breath” of lake water, knowing what it meant, and then the overwhelming sense of peace that followed. I was no longer afraid. It was a comfort I can’t describe. Next thing I remember, I was on the beach, throwing up lake water onto the sand. I think part of me has spent my life, most especially these tough times, longing for that feeling of pure bliss again. That’s the sort of relief I’m talking about, when I say it comes with letting go.

I don’t want to die. It’s actually the opposite. I want my life back! I so want up and out from the muddy waters I’m trapped beneath. I want to breathe in and back out again. I want to feel the warmth of the sun shining down on me, without becoming consumed with thoughts of all the reasons I don’t deserve it.

For the first 6 months or so, I had panic attacks and meltdowns. I would completely fall apart, uncontrollably sobbing and inconsolable. It happened with near predictable timing, about once every two weeks. There wasn’t a single one of those times when Adam’s face wasn’t also streaked with tears, his eyes full of sorrow, remorse, and frustration because he wanted more than anything to “fix it” for me. I hated to show him how utterly broken I truly was. I’d fight so hard not to allow my hurt to surface, until it finally came pouring out in a flood of tears, anger, sadness, and pure hopelessness. I would be laying on our shower floor, water pouring down on me, hugging my knees against my chest as I cried harder than ever before. I’d hear the sounds of my own wailing, almost as if watching from another person’s perspective. I didn’t know I, a grown woman, could so audibly cry out. I haven’t done that, in months. That is progress. The other night, during our shower, I had started to express my concerns about so many of the things that are happening at once. I felt frustrated, because Adam didn’t seem to recognize these issues as being worrying in the ways I did. He insisted I need to trust him when he promises me he will not allow my worst fears to come true. We will be okay. He’s got me. So, I finally asked him, exasperated, when should I worry, then? When we run out of money? When something or someone else goes to shit? When? He looked me straight in my eyes, and said to me, when I stop giving a shit. That’s when. It ain’t gonna happen, though, because I’ll never quit fighting for my family. I was left with no argument. He was right. He turned the shower off and stepped out. He wrapped me in a towel, and held his arms around me. He kissed my forehead and in a gentle but very firm voice, he told me ..but don’t you dare keep things from me. You have to tell me what’s going on. Do not give up on me. You don’t have to believe me when I’m telling you I’m going to keep us safe, just don’t give up on me. Give me a chance and I’ll prove it to you. “Butterflies” danced in my belly, in that moment. There’s something so powerful and attractive about seeing my husband embrace my worries, that seem impossibly big, yet stand confident there is no obstacle he can’t overcome, when it means protecting us. I have no doubt he will fight with every ounce of his strength, for us, and he is pretty damn strong.

You would’ve never learned the words to “Amazing Grace”
Never felt the chill of a pew when you lost faith
Well, blood, sweat, and tears wouldn’t mean a thing
If you didn’t strike out a couple hundred times
If you never hit rock bottom, never cursed the sky
You would’ve never known to ask the good Lord why
Or ever changed your life

You wouldn’t know what it’s like to dance in the rain
Never see the silver lining when the skies go grey
You wouldn’t know a dream come true from a few that don’t
You’d never find your way on a broken road

If you never had the downs, the scuffs, the scars, the ruts
And all you put behind you
When the wins, the ups, the rise aboves
Right there to remind you

If you never had hard days
If you never had a heartbreak
Never had more than you can take
Or carried the weight
Of life on your shoulders
Would it feel like you earned it?
Would you live with a purpose?
Or ever known your own strength
If you never had
If you never had hard days?
Yeah, if you never had hard days

~Brantley Gilbert

I was in a great mood, yesterday. I went and got some coffee next door to my old work, and then I stopped in to visit with an old coworker friend. We’ve been texting lots, and I told her I was going to come by one of these days. I got all caught up on the latest gossip.

It was so darned hot! I tried not to turn our AC on, in the house, but I couldn’t tough it out. I know, if I’M melting in the heat, Adam will be dyin’ in it. So, I wimped out and cut it on…

I made tortilla chips with some pico de gallo, queso dip, and leftover taco meat, for supper. We had a whole nacho bar set up. I hadn’t made my own chips in a long time, but they turned out good.

Later, while Adam and I were in the shower, I was extra chatty. I talked about finally completing our taxes, and let him know they were accepted by the IRS. Uncle fuckin’ Sam sure was a greedy bastard, this year. On top of the money we’d paid him all year, we wound up still owing a shit ton. It hurt to write that big ol’ check. Well, metaphorical check. I had it electronically debited, but I wasn’t excited about having to do it. We talked about finances, and he always makes sure to tell me what a great job I’m doing. Our conversation moved onto the long list of other stressful crap we’ve got going on, and have dealt with over the past year. I told Adam, I sometimes feel we’re trapped in a loop that I’m not sure how to get out of. I miss us. I recognize we are each careful and much more “gentle” with one another. I see the weight of everything he’s carrying, and his pain because of it. I know he sees mine, too. I don’t remember the last time we fought or fucked. We’ve had sex, and disagreements. We haven’t had the passion that fuels a real fight or the raw, animalistic kind of good hard fucking, in I don’t know how long. That’s not to say I particularly want to have a blow up, beyond pissed off at each other kind of fight. Or, that I don’t want and need my husband to make love to me. I guess I’m just concerned because I so do not want to remain inside the place we’ve been inside, forever. I very badly want to find our way back to the us we always were, before. I don’t believe our relationship or marriage is in any kind of imminent danger. I simply hope for the parts we’ve been missing to not stay missing. I’ve learned that it’s incredibly important for me to allow myself to find and accept joy, without overthinking my laughter and then judging myself as if I shouldn’t be allowed it. Punishing myself, blaming and shaming myself and how easily these things can dominate my thoughts, solves none of our problems. I’m realizing, Adam needs to see me “okay”. Not even only “okay”. Joyful. Happy. I can both see and feel the ways it affects him, to witness my hurts, fears, and my sadness. He genuinely believes it is his responsibility to ensure that I am not burdened or harmed. Seeing my worry and pain must feel as if he’s failed me. Of course, I in no way see my amazing husband as a failure. I look at him and see the most beautiful man, inside and out. I see a man who has always been the best provider for his family. A man who is faithful, loyal, and honest… to a fault, sometimes! A man who never breaks his promises. I also see a man who is doing his damndest to never show us the cracks in his “armor”, and who refuses to give up and be broken. He draws his strength from his commitment to his family. To me. He never stops giving, doing, and being everything he possibly can to keep me safe and secure. I know for sure, if he ever stopped trying, caring, and just gave up, it would wreck me. I don’t believe I’d ever be okay again. When Adam assures me we are going to be okay, I trust and believe him. I’ve no doubt in his determination or abilities to “keep the wolves away”. He’s my fierce protector. So long as I’ve got him fighting for me, I know I’m safe. I need to do better. I need to be better. He needs to see, hear, and feel from me assurance that his hard fought battles for my well being are not in vain. That I know he’s out there slaying all the dragons he can, and it matters. He matters. He’s doing a good job. He’s a good man, father, husband, son, and friend. He needs me to be okay, and to be happy much more often, too. I need to give him the admiration and appreciation he deserves. The best way I could think of going about it, is to giggle more. To be silly. To let go of the things I’ve refused to quit holding onto, knowing they only weigh me down and no longer bring joy into my life. I’m starting to grasp this concept that it actually isn’t selfish of me to seek out people and things that do make me happy, in spite of all those that have worked to rob my joy. Despite my grief, because my smiles surely don’t mean I didn’t care. I’m giving myself permission to let go. I’m going to fill my days with as much joy as possible. I’ll collect the good in everyday, and cling tightly onto that. And, I’m not going to feel guilty for it anymore, either. My healing isn’t only for me. It’s about giving my husband and our family what they deserve, and hoping maybe my husband will be able to give himself permission to do the same, assured that his wife is just fine.

Today’s a pretty good day to have a good day ♥️

I’m including the video I made for my corned beef gravy, last week. I’ve also got one made for last night’s supper, and working on one today. I’ve got a new meatballs recipe I’m trying out in my crockpot. So, I’ll add those soon. I truly hope everyone who’s reading this is able to always remember it’s okay to be okay, and anyone who expects different is most likely only going to hold you back. The depth of our grief is not measured by how long or how many tears we cry.

I’ve only very recently discovered the trend known as “trad wife” content creators. Do I consider myself to be another “trad wife”, like the ones who regularly share content with this hashtag? The answer would be a resounding NO! Not just no, but hell nah. Nope. Absolutely, unequivocally, no. For one thing, I’m by no means a hardcore holistic, zero processed foods, all organic, grow all my own food and prepare it while wearing prairie dresses and an apron kind of girl. No shame to women who enjoy those things. Personally, it just isn’t me. I buy the things we eat from (gasp) the grocery store. Except for the occasional trip to our local farmer’s market during Summer months, or the stuff our neighbor brings us from his backyard garden, our meals are not created from fresh, completely organic food. I don’t, nor want to live on a farm. Again, I mean no offense to anyone who does live that way, it’s just not me. I kinda suck at baking homemade breads, and most certainly don’t maintain a constant supply of sour dough bread starters. Not that I don’t enjoy trying out recipes for various types of breads. It can be a lot of fun. Most of our sandwich bread, buns, rolls come from (gasp again) the grocery store. And, by the grocery store, I don’t mean Whole Foods. I’m talking about Publix, Kroger, Aldi, Costco, and even (gasp twice as loudly for this one) Walmart. This oft hated on, one stop shopping center has been the subject of many a controversy throughout my adult life. Let’s be real, though. I don’t know anyone, not one person, who doesn’t make any purchases from their local Walmart. C’mon now. I know people who’ve claimed to be much too conscientious (i/e, pretentious) to step foot inside the horrible very bad no good place here in America, known as Walmart. They lie. Yep, I said it. I saw the granimals tag sticking out of your toddler’s shirt. Your pantry has canned green beans with the Great Value label on full display….Ya lyin’. I say this with no shame, I am a card carrying Walmart Plus member. I know, right? How can I sleep at night knowing I’m supporting such a horrible very bad no good company? I don’t actually sleep particularly great, but my Walmart membership is certainly not one of the things weighing on my conscience. Sorry not sorry.

I have zero interest in portraying myself, my family, our home, wardrobes, or my cooking as ultimate pictures of perfection. I’m not ashamed of any of these things, by any means! I can take pride in my family and home, without presenting completely unrealistic ideals on social media. I enjoy nice things. I don’t feel the need to document and show off my stuff or my skills in a video while I pretend that’s not exactly what I’m doing. Being a wife and mom, a homemaker, has been my life’s ambition. Truly. It isn’t a cosplay opportunity. Housewives aren’t handed out a starter package with a wardrobe you’d wear to the flippin’ Met Gala. New moms aren’t all standing in their kitchens in a $6,000 dress, 4 inch heels, hair and makeup done by the glam squad that came along with our housewife kit while we teach you how to make a breakfast Gordon Ramsey himself would envy. Miss perfect “trad wife”, doing the most to convince your audience that they too can and should be just like you 10 days postpartum, under all that makeup and expensive clothing we all know you’re wearing an adult diaper. Just like all the other new mothers in their kitchens at 5:00am with their hair up in the messy bun they styled days ago, which now dangles precariously off to one side of her head. Wearing pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt that smells like breast milk. You can pretend it isn’t true, but every mother knows the reality of what’s happening underneath the carefully crafted image being displayed there.

I guess what most irks me about the “trad wife” content I’ve seen, is the arrogance and the judgmental attitude so clearly on display. There’s an obvious disdain for the very audience being spoken to. There very well could be, and probably are, some women who are claiming that label, or hashtag, in their posted content who are nothing but kind and sincere. From what I’ve observed, that hasn’t been the case. Of course, I’ve only been introduced to a handful of these people and their content. I fully acknowledge my impression is based on limited experience within that space. For me, I’ve been blessed with the ability to make the choices for myself and my family that were what I wanted, needed, and believed were best. What’s right for me and my family is not a one size fits all prescription for everyone. My desires and my joy are just that, mine. We need to quit preaching our convictions as if they should be held by all. There is a clear danger in becoming so deeply invested in the image being portrayed to others, that your true identity gets lost. What works for you right now might not always work for your future. There’s nothing inherently wrong with sharing your ideas or your perspective. My issue is with those who proclaim their versions of homemaking, motherhood, marriage are the one and only path to success. Not only is that completely false, I’ve seen many lives turned upside down because they chose to remain inside a fantasy of their own making, as their reality crumbles, rather than dare admit the things they put on the internet aren’t real life.

Please do share your recipes, your tips and tricks around the house. Tell us all about what has worked for you. For the love of God, though, stop pretending to be superior and fooling others into believing it.

If I just breathe
Let it fill the space between
I’ll know everything is all right
Breathe
Every little piece of me, you’ll see
Everything is all right
If I just breathe

~Michelle Branch

Today, I’ve just been doing some more housework. I love that I can do things like washing everyone’s bedding and hanging it out to dry. It always smells sooo good, and then I sleep great. I went through some of my kitchen cabinets, the other day, and I got everything all organized neatly again. I also got Adam and my closet completely declutterred and reorganized. I bought some cheap shelving meant for those canvass storage totes, and used them to put our jeans and all the clothes previously just sitting on the wire shelves. Inevitably, they would become messy piles of mixed up clothes because they’d get tipped over, so I was in need of a solution. It worked perfect!

I baked some lemon pound cake, this afternoon. I’m going to make corned beef gravy with mashed potatoes and biscuits for supper, tonight. I’m planning to record that, but I’m going to upload last night’s taco lasagne supper video, today. I’ll try to get tonight’s meal prep shared here tomorrow. I told Adam, last night, I get nervous when I’m recording video. I can write so much more and better than I can talk out loud. He laughed and teased me, I dunno? You know how to talk plenty, too!

I feel like I’m slipping back into my “domestic role”, and it feels really good for me. I badly needed the distraction my job gave me, when I took it. For the most part, I’m in a much better headspace now, and I was seriously missing out with my babies as well as being driven crazy by the unorganized mess my house had become. I didn’t even realize just how much I missed cooking good suppers and baking yummy things for my family, until I was able to do these things again.

Between Adam’s mom’s illness, our messy relationship with our son, and the losses of people I’d so intertwined my entire life with, Adam and I have definitely struggled to find the time or energy for the exciting sex life we had together, before. I also haven’t done a damn thing to get into any real trouble with him. Or, if there was something, it wasn’t serious and had a valid explanation, so there weren’t any consequences for them. Adam told me, the other night, how incredibly loyal he’s recognized I am. He said, most women would never have stuck around through all this shit, but you did, and I’ll never ever forget that. For me, I truly couldn’t imagine myself anywhere but wherever he and I are, together. It’s as if God skillfully and purposefully constructed the most amazing man for me to fit perfectly into. I hurt, with the losses I’ve faced over this past half decade. I miss some people, the way I believed I knew and had them. There is simply no competition, if life ever forced me to choose between my husband and every single other thing that mattered to me. I choose him, always and every time. I wish this past year hadn’t brought this sorrow and hurt, but just like every other year that’s come before it, I do not love my husband like last year. I love him more. Whatever life brings, I’ve got his back, and he sure as hell has got mine. I know for certain, I never could’ve made it through everything without my Adam.

I suppose I’ll start getting things ready, so I can get started on our supper. I don’t really have much else to write about here, today. I’m okay with the peaceful quiet of days like these, anyway.

One day I’m gon’ finally be
Everything that I ever dreamed
So let the world try and hold me back
I keep my head up at the stars
And hustle until I get there
Cuz nothing in life, nobody in life
Is gonna steal my shine
Nothing’s gonna steal my shine

~Crucifix

Today, the sun came back out, after a long week of rain and clouds here. We did get a brief break from the rain, on Friday. I took my girls out for coffee drinks. That evening, we all played some cornhole out back. It was so much fun just spending time laughing and being silly with my family!

It started back to pouring rain, right about 11:00, but it was a great time.

Today was a typical day, here. I take B (Brooklyn, we call her B) to school and pick her up when she’s finished. She has already gotten so many high school credits, she is able to leave school at 12:45 everyday. I can’t believe there’s only a month left of this school year!

I did some cleaning and baking, today. I made banana bread and chocolate chip cookies. I also made my “famous” sloppy joes for supper. I meant to talk about it, in the video I’m posting below, but I got sidetracked. Instead, I’ll just share my recipe here, if I haven’t already? I really can’t even remember whether I’ve done that?

1.5 lbs ground beef or turkey

Minced onion

1 1/2 cups ketchup

4 Tbs worstershire sauce

4 Tbs brown sugar

Just brown the meat with onion, add other ingredients, and let simmer on low. I always serve with both hamburger buns for sandwiches, and with tortilla chips and nacho cheese sauce for making “sloppy nachos”.

I feel like there is no need for conversation
Some questions are better left without a reason
And I would rather reveal myself than my situation
Now and then I consider my hesitation

The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I’m burning, burning bright

I wonder if the things I did were just to be different
To spare myself of the constant shame of my existence
And I would surely redeem myself in my desperation
Here and now I’ll express my situation

There’s nothing ever wrong, but nothing’s ever right
Such a cruel contradiction
I know I crossed the line, it’s not easy to define
I’m born to indecision
There’s always something new, some path I’m supposed to choose
With no particular rhyme or reason

The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I’m burning

~Shinedown

This post is going to be all over the place. I made a video while I prepared our supper, last week. I’d intended to share it here sooner, but life’s been life-ing, lately. We’ve had some serious flooding, over the past week. The kids have been out of school since last Wednesday, and still there’s no school tomorrow because of it. Mercifully, our home is not in one of the low lying neighborhoods that have been devastated by the flooding, but there are many families around us who haven’t been as fortunate.

Brooklyn’s senior prom was this weekend, too. We weren’t sure it would happen, because of all the flooded streets, businesses, and homes, but they did decide to go ahead with prom. She was so happy! She looked absolutely gorgeous!

Everything is a strange mixture of wonderful and terrible, joy and sadness, all at once. Everyday, I am still hurting so badly. The enormous betrayal by these people I so loved and trusted has left very deep wounds within me that I’m not sure can ever be healed. I’m certain there will be permanent scars. Ones not visible to those who only ever see the parts of myself I’m willing to share. Only a very small handful of people around me now are truly aware of these ugly and broken parts of me I so cautiously conceal. There are some who have noticed my efforts to hide pieces of myself. I have given vague explanations that are not lies, but also are not the whole truth either. I have fears that prevent me from sharing all of it. Fear that I could make myself again vulnerable, and in my mind, showing others exactly where I’m weakest is an open invitation for them to stab me in the back, too. I have fear of so horrifying others, if they were to ever see my “open and bloody wounds”, that they might mock me, judge me, or run from me. I don’t believe I’m strong enough to survive even one more injury inflicted by someone I allowed myself to care about, or trusted would care for me.

Something I do want to make clear here, is that this isn’t about forgiveness, or inability to forgive. It’s not about holding onto anger. I’m not angry. Not but rarely, anyway. My choices to remain apart from each and every person I’ve separated from are not easy for me. My decisions aren’t made because I need to punish anybody, or because I am someone who holds onto grudges. I truly don’t believe that I’m a “cold” or uncaring person. I never asked for any of this. In my worst nightmares, I still couldn’t have imagined losing so many people I cherished. I wouldn’t have believed for one moment I’d be in this position of having to say goodbye to so many who aren’t actually gone. I absolutely cannot allow myself and, most importantly, my family to be exposed to anyone I’m not certain can be trusted. And truth be told, at this point, almost no one meets that criteria. My dad, my husband, my daughters, and Adam’s family are all that’s left of those I’m confident will not betray us. I’ve never required those around me to be perfect. I’m able to overlook, forgive, and get past almost anything. I understand there are flaws within all of us. We sometimes hurt, disappoint, and let down those we love most. All I’ve ever needed for trust to exist, is genuine remorse for those mistakes, when they do happen. I just needed to know mistakes, bad judgement, any damage caused, was truly regretted and that every effort to ensure it wouldn’t happen again would be made. I’ve no faith whatsoever this can sincerely come from those who’ve so intentionally caused or contributed to the pain and the losses my family and I are still reeling from. I’m afraid there’s an inability for some people to ever really and truly accept love, which makes it impossible for them to give it, either. There are some who have been so affected by harm inflicted upon them by others, there is irreparable damage done to the place within the heart designed for love in relationships to withstand the inevitable challenges that come. I’m overwhelmed by fear that the same could or has happened to me, too. What if I’m broken, now? Am I good for the people who’ve remained so devoted to me, trusting and believing in me to care for them from that place within my own heart reserved for loving them well? Am I a bad person? Have I brought this onto myself and my family? Is it my fault? Was I blind to my own inability to be good for those I’ve loved? Is it my reckless ignorance, my refusal to accept what is instead of what I hoped could be, which has allowed the circumstances that led to this pain? I spend countless hours going over and over again every single significant moment, and I consider endless what ifs. What if I’d said this, instead? What if I’d done that, instead? I struggle often with my thoughts of all my inadequacies. If I was a better daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend…then maybe? I cannot deny the obvious faults I’ve accepted within myself, believing my best intentions could overcome the chaos made possible because of them. It doesn’t matter how well intentioned, my best just wasn’t good enough for everyone. I’ve given to those I’ve loved from the purest most authentic places of my heart, but that’s irrelevant when it comes to the fact that it clearly didn’t provide enough to sustain these relationships that so mattered to me. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, or didn’t realize it, until it was too late. That hurts real bad. The sting of all the betrayal is matched by this awareness that I’m just as liable for it, if I’m not the kind of person I thought I was.

Having said all of that, I’m doing okay. I’m okay. Well, I will be. I think I will be. I’m pretty sure, anyhow.

Mikayla was home for the weekend. She left a few hours ago. The girls and I went out for coffee, this afternoon. I took the pictures and videos of the flooding along the way.

One of my best friends I grew up with has been working to convince me to come along with her to a concert in Las Vegas, in July. I’ve been thinking about it. It would be so much fun to go to the concert with her, and to spend time with a close girl friend. We’re going to visit Adam’s family, in Kansas, over Easter. His mom is fighting this cancer valiantly. She’s incredible. Still, she’s very sick. Her battle is one we’re all aware cannot be “won”. Instead, she fights like hell to be here with us for as long as possible. Her strength is so beyond anything I could ever imagine possessing myself. It’s inspiring to see her perseverance and positivity. She has a quiet confidence, assured that it is okay and that she is okay. Her faith in God gives her comfort that sustains her always. I really should take these valuable lessons from her. Nothing shakes her faith, and nothing or no one can take her peace.