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.

Trials but I persevere, through hard work and drinkin’ beer

So I ain’t trying to hear that bullshit, bitch I’m workin’ here

It’s been a long day and I ain’t done yet

And all I know is come and get you some

I learned the hard way, I did it my way

But like they say, boy life goes on

~Adam Calhoun

I had a strange day at work, today. Not bad, just weird. Most days, we get a list of calls we need to make to certain customers. Occasionally, the phone number we have for them is wrong, but holy moly, I think half of my calls connected to businesses today! I started recording, just so I could prove it.

I closed up, and got home. It’s been mid 60’s outside since before Christmas, but a cold front blew in today. It’s cold out, now. I’ve got little smokies in the crockpot, and I made a veggie tray, a meat and cheese and cracker tray, and got lots of chips and dips/salsa for everyone to eat for supper. We’ve got friends coming over to hang out and play games. It’s New Year’s Eve. I hear lots of fireworks going off already. I’m off work tomorrow and Thursday, so I’m glad to have a little time at home.

I intend to do my best to keep this positive attitude going, tonight, so we can all have a little fun.

Happy New Year ❤️

I know one day we’ll finally make it but right now it’s a struggle
The bills piled up on the counter got us drowning in troubles
Another bottle of red, for the anxiety and thoughts in my head
No helping hands, everyone we loved left us for dead
Feel like I’m dying in this living room
Feel like I give all I can give
Feel like I want to quit until I look at you
Realize I live for you
This broken heart, I’ll mend for you
Don’t care how this story ends, long as it ends with you
We’ll make it through, we’ll make it out, we’ll make it better way
If I got you, I got no doubt that we’ll see better days
I know it’s scary, but how we’re living’s just momentary
Boy, I swear

One day we’ll dance in castles
And right now won’t mean a thing
When we break shackles
Imagine life with no chains
A thousand battles, a millions scars
Broken arrows inside our hearts
Pain’s a candle that’ll burn away
So none of this’ll matter one day
We’ll say it was you
It was me
A fairy tail no one believed
It was you
It was me
One day the world’s gonna see us dancing in castles

So many problems I don’t know what to solve first
A bottomless bottle is what I need ’cause it all hurts
A bunch of empty promises from people, just all words
Feel like I hit rock bottom, but yet some how I fall worse
I’ve sent up a million prayers, but I feel like I’m not heard
Supposed to be a man, but I feel like I’m not hers
‘Cause I can’t provide all things she deserves
If I was her, I’d throw me to the curb
But some reason she stays and loves me through the hard times
Might not have much, but her love is all mine
Right now we’re scared, how we’re living’s just momentary
Girl, I swear

One day we’ll dance in castles
And right now won’t mean a thing
When we break shackles
Imagine life with no chains
A thousand battles, a millions scars
Broken arrows inside our hearts
Pain’s a candle that’ll burn away
So none of this’ll matter one day
We’ll say it was you
It was me
A fairy tail no one believed
It was you
It was me
One day the whole world’s gonna see us dancing in castles

~Brabo Gator & Savannah Dexter

Truth be told, I don’t have to work. Adam makes more in one week than I do in a month. I don’t hate my job, but I do seriously miss my old one. Most importantly, I’m having a hard time knowing I’m not here for my girls like they need. Mj worries me so much. I’m afraid for her to be left alone here all day, while I’m at work. She’s hurting and feeling all the fear and uncertainty, the heartache and loss, that we are. I’m having an inner battle with myself about what to do. Adam is supportive of whatever decision I make. He’s encouraged me to quit my job, or to at least cut back, if that’s what I want. He assures me that he’s got us. He tells me all the things he misses from when I was at home, and how much he’s realized he’d taken for granted before. I think my greatest concern is that if I really did quit working, what if I just couldn’t be the wife and mama I used to be? What if they’re expecting for me to dance in the kitchen, while I’m baking something yummy, but there’s no music and I’m not able to dance anymore? I guess, in my mind, it’s less painful knowing I’m not taking care of them because I’m not home to, than to think of being home but still not there for them. I don’t know. This is just something I’ve been weighing on. I’ve actually been approached by some advertisers who’d like to buy ad space here on my blog. If I could continue to make the “fun money” I’ve been using on my kids, and be here for them, that would be amazing! Still, my anxiety reminds me of all the what if scenarios that plague me anytime change of any sort is contemplated. So, I’m not quite sure yet what I’m going to do.

In my job interview, I described myself as an “introverted extrovert”. I enjoy talking with people, and challenging myself, but I reach a point where I need to be alone so I can recharge. It sort of exhausts me, if I can’t find the time I need to do that. I’m often so desperate for a little time to be alone with myself, where I don’t need to entertain anyone or be interrupted, I’ll find myself avoiding things I normally would’ve participated in with my family. If they’re playing a board game, or watching a movie, many evenings I simply don’t have the mental and emotional energy to join in. That leads me on a spiral of feeling guilty and ashamed, and then unable to get that rest and recharge I need, even if I am “hiding” alone downstairs.

Adam consistently does any and everything he possibly can to help me. I don’t know how he can be so strong and brave? How he manages to always be here for us, and never makes me feel like a burden. He’s unquestionably devoted to us, to me. I’ve no doubt whatsoever that his family, that I, am his priority number one. Somewhere within me remains a spark I’m fighting to ignite into the flames that once provided those same assurances about my devotion to my family, to him. One thing that hasn’t faltered for one single moment, is my burning desire to show my love for my family, so that they can always find the comfort from me they deserve. I sometimes wonder, why do they want me? What needs am I even meeting, for them? Why would anybody as good and pure and incredible as they are pour so much love onto me? I wish it were possible to know for certain which paths I should take. Which direction is right for my family, for me. I’m afraid there will come a day when their patience and grace for me run out. That I’ll make the wrong choices, or be unable to measure up, and end up completely alone.

I did some crafting, today. I made a Christmas countdown for my sister, because she mentioned wanting one. Then, I just played with some other ideas. I find it rewarding, to take these plain and bare things, and turn them into something beautiful.

I miss making my house feel like home. I miss the texts from Adam every evening, telling me he’s heading home, and already having supper cooking. I miss the smell of our clean home, after I had done the cleaning. I miss having scented candles burning. I miss the pride I always had, knowing I was taking care of my family.

❤️

The girl I used to be
She was confident and free and happy
I don’t recognize myself
Or this person in the mirror
Staring back at me

I’m fighting voices in my head
Voices in my head telling me that I’m not enough
I’m not pretty and I’m broken, I’m not worthy of love
Voices in my head telling me that I should give up
I’m fighting voices in my head

Words, they can cut so deep
Why do I care so much what people think?
I wonder who I’d be if I didn’t have insecurities
I don’t know what to think, I’m losing all control of reality

Stop it, I can’t take another minute
I’m going crazy with these voices that are spinning in my head
Tell my head to listen to my heart
And my heart says

I’m done with voices in my head
Voices in my head, I know that I am enough
I am pretty, I’m not broken, I am worthy of love
Voices in my head I know that it’s time to give up
With all these voices in my head

~Jana Kramer

This evening, I talked with a therapist.

I went to work, this morning. When I closed up, I drove home, and waited for Mikayla to finish getting ready. Her and I had made plans to go do a little shopping. We went to Victoria’s Secret. They’re having their semi annual sale, so that was fun.

I’d scheduled my appointment, days ago. I hadn’t decided for sure whether I’d actually attend. I showed up, though. He wound up spending over 20 minutes past our allotted time, with me. Honestly, he was pretty great. He wants to build on learning some version cognitive behavioral therapy skills as we go forward. He asked me to name 3 things that describe my “safe place”. I did, but for the sake of brutal honesty, I admitted my thought process that followed. But that’s gone. That place doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t exist, that way, anymore. It isn’t that I consciously just “decide” to have those thoughts. They’re the truth, as my mind tells it.

He also helped me to understand why I’m struggling so much to eat. I know it’s not normal or healthy, but I literally go days, sometimes weeks, without eating any real food. It isn’t at all because I’m concerned with my body image. I know I’m too thin. 84 pounds isn’t healthy. I’m almost never hungry. In fact, the very thought of eating usually repulses me. If I attempt to force myself, I instantly gag. The textures, the tastes. I may as well be trying to eat glass. He explained, when our bodies remain in “fight, flight, or freeze” mode for too long, our brains are so focused on that, our mechanisms that control and announce things as basic as hunger simply shut down. Our bodies are so focused on what we continue to perceive as imminent danger, the typical signals we’d be receiving just can’t get through. I like to at least understand why I’m feeling and doing the things I don’t seem able to control on my own. None of this will be magically cured, or fixed, just by knowing. It does at least give me comfort, that this isn’t all only because I’m too weak, or lack the willpower, to control and change on my own.

My “core beliefs”, or the things I tell myself, are things like I’m not worthy. I’m not enough. I don’t deserve to feel better. I’ve failed the people who mattered most. Not because I woke up one day and decided to feel these things. Because nothing else makes sense, to me. Why else would I be here, lonely and miserable? Betrayed and abandoned by so many of the people I loved the most.

I guess, I’m searching for the truth. If I’m not seeing something, show me. If I need to hear something, tell me. I’m looking for some direction. Which way is up? How do I begin to trust that to take even the smallest steps would be to move forward, and not wind up discovering I was once again, in fact, racing further backwards in my clumsy attempts to escape this awful place I’m in? Maybe I’m not good enough. But, is it possible to learn how to be? I used to think I was good, and aspire to be better. Great even. Now, I’d really like to be enough. To be able to give my family something besides these empty plates I keep serving them. It’s as if I’m doing everything I know how to feed my family’s hunger for the things I once was able to so readily serve them. Or, believed I was. No matter what I do, the plates come up empty, though. All I can give them is…nothing. I want more than anything to have something good and right to give to them. I don’t want someone else to do it for me. I want to learn how to do it myself, for them. I will admit, somewhere inside, I’m craving for the deliciousness that life once was for me. First, I need to know my family is fed. Then, I might be able to contemplate how I could satisfy that hunger that still remains deep within me.

I know this journey will be a long one. Fraught with difficult and painful roads I’m going to have to travel through. Mountains and valleys that will require a strength I’m not yet convinced I’ll be able to muster. I do believe I took the first step, tonight. That’s not nothing.

Court is in session, a verdict is in
No appeal on the docket today just my own sin
The walls cold and pale, the cage made of steel
Screams fill the room, alone I drop and kneel
Silence now the sound, my breath the only motion around
Demons cluttering around, my face showing no emotion
Shackled by my sentence, expecting no return
Here there is no penance, my skin begins to burn

So I held my head up high
Hiding hate that burns inside
Which only fuels their selfish pride
All held captive out from the sun
A sun that shines on only some
We the meek are all in one

I hear a thunder in the distance, see a vision of a cross
I feel the pain that was given on that sad day of loss
A lion roars in the darkness, only he holds the key
A light to free me from my burden and grant me life eternally

I cry out to God, seeking only His decision
Gabriel stand and confirms, I’ve created my own prison

Should have been dead on a Sunday morning, banging my head
No time for mourning
Ain’t got no time

~Creed

About 16 and a half years ago, I met my husband, Adam. What I’ve never said here, is that I also met his infant son, Wyatt. He was just 8 months old. Wyatt’s birth mom abused drugs and alcohol, even during her pregnancy. Adam and I alone have raised him. His birth mom has spent the entirety of Wyatt’s childhood giving birth to babies who’d also be raised by other people, while she bounced between crack houses and halfway houses, never really giving up the junk she insisted on putting in her body. I made every birthday cake, gave him his first haircut, and took him to his first days of school. I keep a lock of the blonde curls from his first haircut and his first lost baby tooth inside my hope chest, alongside my girls childhood memories I hung onto. I loved him always. As fiercely as I ever loved my girls. Wyatt is 17 years old now. He has consistently made choices that have spiraled into a chaos that is beyond our abilities to manage. He has an enormous sense of entitlement, and his arrogance is astonishing. I chose never to write about how unbelievably cruel and violent he had become, most especially toward his sisters. I literally couldn’t trust him alone in the pool with Mj, because I was truly afraid he could drown her. The harder we fought to save him, the more he dug his heels in. Unbeknownst to us, he spent the better part of a year planning and preparing to set us up, so that he would no longer have to deal with Adam and I preventing (or attempting to) his fall from the cliff he insisted on dangling from. He was abusing substances. He was sleeping around, having unprotected sex. He was stealing, cheating, fighting. For him, lies were much more beneficial than truth, and his lies are a big reason for the turmoil we’re grappling with now.

Jackie was very well aware, and both Adam and I often had confided in her and Justin. We were desperate for answers. For some ideas of what to do, where to go, how to get a grip on this. I don’t know if it was alcohol? Our mutual friends tell me it was motivated by jealousy. Whatever the reason, one night in May, Jackie chose to not just claim to suddenly believe his lies, but she chose to encourage them. To reinforce them. And finally, to use them to attempt some sort of fucked up coup in an effort to oust me from my own family. She secretly recorded a conversation she initiated with me, as she accused and blamed and shamed me, all while knowing the answers behind every “question” she asked. After I had shared all I ever had with her. My family. My babies. My fears, my struggles, my secrets…It didn’t work as she must’ve anticipated, except for a small minority of people who were willing and eager to just accept the bullshit being fed to them. That the fiction being told was even plausible for anyone who knew me just devastated me. I guess I’m numb over it now, though. That, or my heart’s already broken into so many pieces, it’s impossible to notice which ones once fit together so easily.

I may have already said more than I should, but I needed to say it tonight.

Wyatt isn’t coming home. Jackie and Justin, Adam and I, will never be friends. It’s not about forgiveness. It’s about protecting the precious few good things left over from this storm we never ever could’ve saw coming. Maybe we should have? But, we didn’t. And now, we’re all doing what we can to make our “prison” feel like home. I really don’t want to hear any opinions or suggestions about how or why we should be doing more, have done more, for Wyatt. I haven’t even scratched the surface here, really. We cannot continue to be fuel for his ego driven trip to a hell we are powerless to prevent. All we are capable of is watching and waiting. Clinging to the tiny strands of hope we managed to hang onto, and praying that maybe just maybe, one day. One day, he will make the choice to do better. To be better. And, the moment that happens, of course we would do everything possible to support him. It simply isn’t up to us, now.

This has been the most painful experience of my life, and it isn’t over. Even without the parts Jackie contributed, I’d have still needed my best friend more than ever. Instead, I found out I just wasn’t worth what I believed I was.

This is my pain. The wreckage I live inside, every second of everyday. This is the truth. This is who, what, why, and where I am today.

Once bitten and twice shy
I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye
Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?
Well, it’s been a year, it doesn’t surprise me
“Happy Christmas,” I wrapped it up and sent it
With a note saying, “I love you,” I meant it
Now I know what a fool I’ve been
But if you kissed me now, I know you’d fool me again

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes
I’m hiding from you and your soul of ice
My God, I thought you were someone to rely on
Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, you gave it away You gave me away
This year, to save me from tears
I’ll give it to someone special

ll give it to someone, I’ll give it to someone special
Who give me something in return
Hold my heart and watch it burn
I’ll give it to someone, I’ll give it to someone special
I thought you were here to stay
How could you love me for a day?
I thought you were someone special
I gave you my heart
I’ll give it to someone, I’ll give it to someone

~Wham!

My birthday is exactly two weeks before Christmas. I had that day off, and spent it at home. I did some crafting, some baking, some cleaning, and I made a really yummy supper for my family. The following weekend, Adam and I took the kids out to eat, and “celebrated” my birthday. As for birthday wishes, I had only one. Though I can’t see it, don’t know where to look, or really even believe it’s possible anymore, God all I hope for is to find pure joy in my family’s eyes again. Looking at those I loved most in this world, and seeing genuine happiness reflecting off them, was always the source of my own joy. Believing without question that I’d done something right, and that contributed to the comfort and peace shone in the laughter that once filled every corner inside our home. I stare into the eyes of those left beside me, and their pain permeates. I see them doing their very best to smile for me, for each other, but even the occasional moment of spontaneous laughter is still soaked in hurt and grief. We all feel it. We all see it in each other’s faces. I just don’t know how to give them these things we all so desperately need and want. The new televisions, Apple Watches, iPhones, and all the other crap I carefully picked out and wrapped up for them simply can’t fill the emptiness inside any of us. I’ve spent the last seven months pleading with God, heal these wounds! It seems that prayer isn’t meant to be answered. Not yet, anyhow. As these days turned into weeks, and then months that will soon be an entire year, my faith He’ll hear me is dwindling. I wonder, why? What did I do so entirely wrong that this punishment is making everyone close to me bleed? I replay every mistake, misstep, and bad decision I’ve made and I wonder, is this the reason?

My sweet Mj is struggling. I don’t know how to make it better for her. She’s damn near unrecognizable. Her temper is short. Her tears come easily. Her laughter is increasingly more and more rare. I feel tremendous guilt, and partly because I know I’m not here for her like she deserves. I’m not here when she comes home from school. I’m not here when she doesn’t feel well. I’m not there for all her concerts and parties. Besides that, I’m not around emotionally, either. It’s just not possible to pour from a cup that’s bone dry. On some level I’m hyper aware of this, and it stands to reason I should be doing everything I can to fill my empty cup, so I could pour out something for my family again. It also seems selfish and wholly undeserved, to consider doing so. Why should I be allowed to feel better, when it’s me who’s to blame for giant pieces of this damage? If I caused this, or even contributed, it’s ridiculous to assume there should be anything other than what is.

I made a wish, anyway.

Merry Christmas, everyone ❤️