~The Jane Dear Girls

I have one more “cast member” to finally introduce, here. This past October, I had another daughter who celebrated her 18th birthday. Brooklyn Hope was born just 15 months after Mikayla. Mikayla was only 8 months old when I discovered I was having another baby. Brooklyn was barely 6 months old when their dad and I began to live our own separate lives apart from one another. Mikayla had just turned 3, and Brooklyn was soon to be 2, when I started dating Adam. I’d wound up calling Mikayla, Brooklyn, and Wyatt our “Irish triplets”. We spent all these years working to build our beautiful family, and it’s been such incredible speed with which it seems most of these pieces we’d finally sewn together have come unraveled. While I’ve always been peripherally aware the days would come, when my babies would begin to separate themselves from our home and this family Adam and I call ours so they could grow and build their own lives, I just don’t think I’m ready. Could I ever have been ready? I will readily admit it’s a jealous love I have for my children. Perhaps a selfish love? I just so deeply wanted to give them more than they’ve gotten, yet. I had all these hopes and dreams and so many plans formed with the purest of intentions. There’s too many things I haven’t done. Haven’t said. Should’ve done. Should’ve said. And, as many or maybe more things I wish I hadn’t done or said. My children’s journeys simply do not begin when I’m ready. They have, are, and will begin to take their first timid steps out into a world I cannot design or dictate for them. They’ll have their very own unique stories to write, and childhood is only one brief chapter.

My Brooklyn was due to have been born on December 28. She arrived much sooner, on October 17. She has always been a tiny yet absolutely fierce girl. She’s fought hard for her place in this world, and dammit she’s earned it. She’s been defying the odds since the moment she was created. I truly admire her strength and determination. She’s shown unbelievable courage in the face of every single challenge that’s been set before her. I simply couldn’t be more proud to have been chosen to be her mama.

It was my Brooklyn who had surgery, last week. The surgeons removed everything they deemed necessary, and then drilled holes into her “distal lateral femur”, with hope that her body will begin to repair the missing bone and cartilage that was damaged and destroyed. As always, my brave and beautiful Brooklyn has proven to be as amazing as ever. We just had the appointment to remove her stitches and staples, yesterday. She will be exclusively using her crutches to get around, for the next 5 weeks. Her orthopedic oncologist will have us go in for a repeat MRI and x-rays, on April 21, and in his words “we will go from there”. She’s been looking forward to her prom, this year, and even though she will be on crutches, she’s definitely going to be there!

I have so much more to say, but not tonight.

Wake me up when the season’s gone
‘Cause I’ve wasted all my dawns on you
So what do I do?
Oh, what I do?

I get fucked up just ’cause I’m scared
Love’s just another drug I have grown a victim to
So what do I do?
Oh, what do I do?

All is fair in love and war
So what the hell are we even fightin’ for?
I’m on your front porch beggin’ for my dawns back
Give my goddamn records and my clothes back
‘Cause I’m through
Oh, how I’m through

Give me my dawns back
Everything that dies makes its way back
I lost her last July in a heart attack
I need one small victory

~Zach Bryan

In the Fall of 2023, Jackie and I went shopping, and returned home with a whole bunch of craft supplies. We spread everything out all over our ping pong table, in the basement, and thus began what would be a regular hobby we shared. I would always tell my “Alexa” to play country music, while we painted and worked on our latest craft projects. Zach Bryan had a couple of new songs that year that we’d hear often played. I can’t listen to his music without thinking of those times, with Jackie. I don’t even listen to music when I’m crafting, anymore. I’ll put on a podcast, or find a show to put up on the TV.

I’m sitting in my basement, surrounded by my mess of wood, paint, and ribbon I used this weekend, for my latest projects. I craft by myself, now. I’ve been making a lot of Spring themed things. I’ve been using a much more neutral color palette, recently. I’d have loved to show Jackie how much better I’ve gotten at making pretty bows. I sometimes make something and think to myself, I’ll bet she’d have liked this.

One week from tomorrow will be my last day at my work. My baby’s surgery is scheduled for Wednesday the 12th of March. After several days and nights spent contemplating, weighing my options, I came to the conclusion that it’s the right thing for all of us for me to focus on taking care of my family. I am only one person, with finite hours and limited resources to give everyday. My manager has been amazing. When I talked with her about this, last week, she was super understanding and supportive. She made a point to tell me that, in two or three months, when my baby’s back to herself and our other family stuff has settled down, my job will still be there for me if I want it. Everyone at work has been great. For the majority of my time there, I intentionally avoided allowing anyone there to ever know me. It sort of became like the “Streisand Effect”, because it seemed the harder I worked at going unnoticed, the more they all paid attention to me. Although, for the most part, I did manage to keep most of myself hidden from everyone, there have been a few people I’ve shared some of myself with. I was so disinterested in forming any new friendships, but it happened anyway.

Mikayla was home, this weekend. It’s always so quiet in here, after her and Jandrel leave on Sundays. She still cries every time it’s time for her to go back to her dorm in Knoxville. She’s doing absolutely fantastic, at school, though! She’s in an aerospace engineering club, and has gotten a coveted spot as part of a team building rockets there. She’s in an accelerated masters program, and she’s already considering going for her doctorate in aerospace engineering. Besides all that, she’s also tutoring. I’m so proud of that kid!

I’d love to write more, but it’s getting late, and we’ve all got school and work in the morning. I need to go fix Adam and Mj’s lunches for tomorrow, and then get to bed. I wouldn’t mind getting naked with my husband before we drift off to sleep, either.

Goodnight y’all

Many nights I laid awake
Overdosing on pure pain
Heartbreak and a side of pills
Whiskey bottle’s still call my name
Now and then like an old friend
Lost some place against the grain
The hands of time still ticking
The winds of life keep going by
I feel that cold winter breeze
That lets me know I’m still alive
And I can’t lie, I’ve been hurt bad
I told myself don’t turn back
Gotta go and find what I’m searching for
God knows I deserve that
And sometimes I still dream
Wake up in a pool of sweat
That sun shining through the blinds
Just in time for the sunset
Still finding good in all the bad
But all the good ain’t come yet
I take a look into my daughter’s eyes
It lets me know I ain’t done yet
I’ve been running blind through the darkness
Over time became heartless
But I’m still gonna shine regardless
And if you ever doubted me
Well that’s ok just wait and see
Cause I haven’t met one single person
That could ever doubt me as much as me

I’ve been spending all this time
Tryna pick up all the pieces
Tryna walk a line and fight away all my demons
So if you stick around, so maybe you can see
One day I’ll make you proud
Right now you don’t believe me
That’s ok
I’ll probably burn every bridge along the way
But that’s ok
Cause I’m still standing here today

~Nu Breed & Jesse Howard

This afternoon, at work, I was making some phone calls. I suddenly remembered something that had happened while I made our collection calls, some two months or so ago. The man I’d called had answered the phone and immediately began to describe how he would rape me. I hung up the phone, and within a minute, our phone was ringing. I answered with our typical greeting, “Thank you for choosing [our company]. This is [Eve]. How can I help you?” A familiar voice responded, “What are you wearing, Eve?” I slammed the phone back down into its cradle, and I began to shake as a rush of adrenaline, fear, and anger washed over me. I took a break, and returned 15 minutes later to finish my phone calls. I had been working alone, that day. It wasn’t until this afternoon that I shared this incident with my manager. She looked horrified and asked me why hadn’t I said something sooner?! I didn’t have a good answer. The truth was, I’d forgotten it. All these days I’ve continued to make daily phone calls at work, and wasn’t reminded of that one. Today, it wasn’t a phone conversation, or anything you’d expect would jog a memory like this one, that brought it back to the surface in my mind. It was the sunshine pouring through the windows. The way the sun shone into my office was the spark that ignited the memory of that flame. I’m aware of how strange that must seem. Hell, I think it’s weird! My manager was flabbergasted, asking how I can just “forget” something like that. The thing of it is, that’s nothing new for me. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. I’ve had stressful or traumatic memories dating back as far as my early childhood that I’ve only remembered well into adulthood. The way I describe it, it’s like being told about some amazing tacos you had at this restaurant last night. You ask if I’ve ever tried their tacos. I’m not lying when I answer, nope. So one day, you and I go to this restaurant, order their tacos, and I genuinely believe this is my first time having them. Over the next several months, we get these tacos multiple times. And then, one day, it dawns on me. I used to come to this place with my grandma! The last time we were there, [something awful happened], and we never visited that restaurant again. I can recall every detail from the last time I’d been there, with my grandma. I remember what I was wearing. I remember my grandma’s purse, and how I’d been playing with the little tassel that hung from its zipper. I remember the rain that was falling down onto us, and the puddle I’d not so accidentally splashed in as my grandma hurried me inside… All these years later, after all the times I’d gotten these tacos with you, it wasn’t until this moment I had ever remembered any of that. The sight and the smells at the restaurant, its name, their delicious tacos, none of that was the trigger that unleashed the flood of memories I’d apparently kept suppressed deep within my memory. It was the rain. It was the puddle of water I’d cautiously avoided, as I hurried inside, today. That is exactly how my brain manages to pull long forgotten memories from whatever place they’ve been hidden. That is exactly how I handle overwhelmingly stressful events. I simply “forget”, until I remember.

I’m not sure there’s a clear point I can make with all of that. It’s just something I recognized in myself, today.

I’ve been doing a lot of crafting and redecorating, lately. I’m doing my best to embrace the opportunities to make changes around me that can reflect who and where I’m at, today. I’ve really done a whole lot of things different, at home. Looking around my house, everything’s familiar, but it’s also not the way it used to be. I’m growing to be ok with that. I’m able to find beauty in what’s around me. And, if I can’t see it where I used to, I’ll repaint, or add a bow. Anything to bring the light back into the place I call home. It feels more like home, again. Like maybe I’m actually finding my way back home.

Lately I’ve been wondering

When it’s all gonna end

‘Cause I’m tired of bein’ sick and tired

And I ain’t got much more in me

I’m running outta steam

And there ain’t no sleep for the wicked

So I’ve just been doin’ me

And so far it’s safe to say

That I haven’t been doin’ so well

~Chris Hosier

As has been a reoccurring theme here, lately, there’s a whole lot of shit going on. My sweet daughter has been having some knee pain for about a year, now. A few weeks ago, she suddenly couldn’t even walk. She couldn’t bend or straighten her left knee, and she had tears pouring down her face from the pain. I brought her back to her doctor, to again search for answers about what in the hell was happening. I’d taken her into the doctor no less than five times prior, looking to find an explanation for her worsening symptoms. She had X-rays done (for the third time since this began). This time, her doctor noticed something “suspicious”. We were referred to an orthopedic surgeon. An orthopedic oncologist surgeon, to be precise. She was seen there just two days later. They did MRI scans, and this doctor was able to give us some clarity. Some. He is relatively certain he knows exactly what’s causing her problems. Mercifully, he’s confident the growth is benign, but she has an abnormal growth in the cartilage around her knee. It has actually damaged her bone, to the point she has a piece of the lower part of her femur that’s broken off and is now just floating around in her knee area. As if that isn’t painful enough, this piece of bone is sometimes getting caught up in her knee joint, and prevents her from being able to bend or straighten her knee until it finally moves again. She will be going in for some pretty serious surgery, here very soon. I’m praying she’ll only need one surgery, but he warned us that’s unlikely. It’s possible, but the odds are she’s going to end up needing to have at least one more surgery after this one. They will cut out the growth within her cartilage and bone, and remove unhealthy tissue and bone. They’ll then be placing pins in her femur, in an attempt to get new healthy bone and cartilage to grow back. She’ll be in a full leg cast for 6 weeks, and then start rehab and physical therapy. Unless she isn’t able to grow new bone and cartilage. If that’s the case, and the surgeon stressed that cartilage is notoriously difficult to repair, they’ll need to do a bone graft. That surgery would mean taking some of her pelvic bone and grafting it onto her femur bone.

Adam’s mom is going in for a lung biopsy, next week. The results will determine one of two possible paths she’ll be taking. Either they’ll begin aggressive chemotherapy, to prolong her life as much as possible, OR she’ll be sent home on palliative care, to help keep her as comfortable as possible because chemo would be ineffective and would only make her feel unwell through all her last days with us. So, this biopsy will be a huge determining factor as far as hers and all of our foreseeable future goes. We’re all planning to take her to Cancun, Mexico, this Summer. It’s on her “bucket list”, and we intend to do everything we can to make sure it happens.

I talked with my manager, at work, a couple weeks ago. At first, I’d told her I have to quit. After I realized my daughter needed an appointment with an oncologist, that was my final straw. My manager cried and told me she totally understood, and to do whatever I need to do for my baby. But, she insisted she has my back at work. She told me she loves me, and doesn’t want to lose me. I think we’ve decided that I’ll first try dropping my hours down to part time. We’ll schedule around the things I need to do for my family, and I’ve got 3 and a half weeks of vacation time, 16 hours of paid floating holiday time, plus a week and a half left of sick time I can use while my daughter recovers and when we need to go visit Adam’s mom. I know how lucky I am to have such an understanding and empathetic manager, with a job that has a flexible schedule that could allow me to be here for my family. Hopefully. Hopefully it can all work out. Maybe one of these days we can have some semblance of normality brought back into our lives, and me and my family can finally put ourselves back together again. Until then, I’ll just have to keep clinging to the rope I’ve found myself attached to, dangling precariously over an unknown abyss I’d rather not discover the inside of. Every time I ask myself, “How could things possibly get any harder?”, they do.

I am not okay
I’m barely getting by
I’m losing track of days
And losing sleep at night
I am not okay
I’m hanging on the rails
So if I say I’m fine
Just know I learned to hide it well

I woke up today
I almost stayed in bed
Had the devil on my back
And voices in my head
Some days, it ain’t all bad
Some days, it all gets worse
Some days, I swear I’m better off
Layin’ in that dirt

I know, I can’t be the only one
Who’s holding on for dear life
But God knows, I know
When it’s all said and done
I’m not okay
But it’s all gonna be alright
It’s not okay
But we’re all gonna be alright

I know one day
We’ll see the other side
The pain’ll wash away
In a holy water tide
And we all gonna be alright

~Jelly Roll

Life’s been heavy, these last few weeks. This is so fucking hard. It’s not alright. This isn’t okay. For the life of me, I can’t understand why? When will we get to the other side of this hell? Will we even make it? And, if we do survive this, what does our life look like? What and who will be left standing?

Last Thursday, I went to parent teacher conferences. MJ’s teachers always love her. They told me many of the same things I’m used to hearing at these conferences. She’s a great student. She’s polite and respectful and kind. This time, there was a “but” after those initial comments. BUT, Mj has periods of intense and overwhelming sadness, and that concerns us. Mj and I spent time talking together, when we left her parent teacher conferences. We had a plan, and we both felt good about it. This was figure-out-able. We’ve got this. We arrived home, and were both giggling as we opened the front door and stepped inside. The moment we entered, a mixture of anxiety and sadness bombarded our senses. The air all around had suddenly grown thick with the energy and emotions that radiated from just inside our living room, where Adam was seated, and it penetrated both Mj and myself. I don’t remember making the walk over to Adam. The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of him, asking what’s going on? He told me to sit down. I dismissed his request, and gently but firmly demanded the answer to my question. He had hung up the phone, after speaking to his mom, just moments before we’d gotten home.

Adam’s mom has been going to multiple appointments, visiting many different doctors and having a variety of tests and procedures necessary to gather all possible information about her cancer. Every time she’s received the results, it’s been not good. She’s taken on every single challenge and refused to be discouraged by any obstacle she’s encountered. Until Thursday. Thursday, she had gone for a full body scan. We’d learned the size of the tumor in her breast was very very large, 2 days earlier. Her doctors had sent her for the full body scan, because the size gave them new concerns.

I’m really struggling to write what comes next, here.

Her cancer has spread within her body. They can do chemotherapy, in an attempt to prolong her life, but her cancer is terminal.

I stood in front of my husband, absolutely stunned. I couldn’t think or move, until he began to cry. He cried like I’ve never heard him cry. His wailing sobs, as his body shook uncontrollably, gave me a view of the raw, pure, unrestrained pain he was experiencing. For a moment, in the most vulnerable minutes I’ve ever witnessed my husband inside, I saw the brokenness he couldn’t hide from me. All I could do was hold him. I wrapped my arms around him and repeated over and over, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.

Adam didn’t stay like that for long, although I’m certain he’s merely masking his unrelenting pain, as he always does. I so wish I knew how to make things get better. If only I could. I’d do anything. I’d give my life, if that prevented my family from ever again feeling the kind of agony I see and feel from them.

I’m overwhelmed. I’m exhausted. I’m fighting like hell, anyway. My family needs me. My husband needs me to be strong for the moments he can’t. My babies need their mama.

It’s not okay
But we’re all gonna be alright
I’m not okay
But it’s all gonna be alright

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.