Used to the Fall

Leave me alone, just leave me alone…

Trying to stand here, pretending that I’m really okay
When I know inside that the hope is gone
Is like sitting all alone at 5:00 a.m. in a hotel room, when the coke’s gone
I hold onto pain sometimes, lit up by the faith of my fire
Too old to be chasing these highs, when a first line is the only good ride

‘Cause soon or later, all the curtains gon’ close, and the stage gon’ fade to black coal
And everything that you ever dreamed of will be running right out the back door
Wake up at sundown, hands up, get gunned down
By myself I’m my own worst enemy
A victim to the chains of my own stupidity

Life seems like it’s just about me losing everything that I never wanted in the first place
‘Til I slip and get attached, then the devil takes it back, and it hurts in the worst way
I’ve been stabbed in the back so much that I can’t ever trust nobody
I’ve been cut to the heart so many times that I can’t love nobody

Maybe I’m damaged goods
Half the time, misunderstood
All the shoulds, all the coulds
Can’t stop the hatchet when it hits the wood
And you can talk up a fit, you can cuss, you can spit, you can dig my grave
But you ain’t putting no debt on a [woman] that done spent life beneath these weight

One day, life’s bitter like Xanax
Next day, tastes sweet like an Adderall
Maybe I hurt myself, ’cause I’d rather feel pain than feel nothing at all
I hate coming down
Touching my feet on the ground
But man, I’m used to the fall

But don’t put your trouble on me
I got enough of that weighing on me
Already got enough demons I feed
Man, leave me alone to just breathe
I hate coming down (leave me alone, leave me alone)
Touching my feet on the ground (leave me alone, just leave me alone)

Just leave me alone
Just leave me alone
Leave me alone (leave me alone, yeah, leave me alone)
Just leave me alone

~CRUCIFIX

I haven’t written here in nearly a month. The truth is, I couldn’t. It’s not that I physically couldn’t, so much as I mentally and emotionally couldn’t. A few weeks ago, I was standing alone in my kitchen. As I attempted to rinse some dishes, and load the dishwasher, I began to feel a crushing weight bearing down on my chest. It was as if an invisible force was pressing against me, stealing my oxygen. I recognized what was happening. I’ve had panic attacks before, but this time was more extreme than ever. I held onto the counter, as I tried to focus on taking slow and steady breaths of air. Despite my best efforts to regain my composure, things only got worse. The room began to spin, and then my vision completely disappeared. All I saw was black. I fluctuated between brief periods of seeing my kitchen reappearing, but still blurry and disoriented, and then the dark nothing taking over my sight. Throughout all of this, I continued to feel as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. Frantically gasping for air, as my vision faded into black. Moments later, I found myself crumpled on my kitchen floor. I laid there, sobbing uncontrollably. I’m grateful none of my kids were home to witness this. It truly is as if something very significant happened to me, that day. The tears seemed to have exhausted my hurt, worries, fears, anger, frustration, and sadness. All of these things that had consumed me and my thoughts were replaced with a coldness that, in a strange way, felt comforting. I grabbed my purse and car keys, and I left. I didn’t know where I was headed to, but I needed to escape. I drove for hours, listening to music that says what I can’t, or won’t. I played these songs so loudly that it made any thinking impossible, which is exactly what I was aiming to do.

Later that evening, after I’d returned home, Mikayla asked me if I was okay. I lied and told her I was just tired. She told me I seemed sad. I did my best to reassure her I was fine. My kids not only see that things are certainly not “fine”, but they feel it too. There’s a heaviness that seems to follow me everywhere I go. I really do try hard to shield them from these struggles, because they don’t deserve any of this. It is incredibly unfair to burden them with things they didn’t create and can do nothing about.

The next morning, I paid a visit to my doctor. I briefed him on current events in my life, and I was brutally honest about where my thoughts have led me, on my worst days. My weight had plummeted to under 90 pounds. I wasn’t sleeping, either. He spent well over an hour in that patient room, with me. I left with prescriptions for medications to help me to sleep, increase my appetite, and help me to manage my thinking. He also prescribed “Valium”. I have the full pill bottle stored in my linen closet. I haven’t taken any of those, but they’re there if the panic attacks return. I am sleeping better. I’m also eating. Not as much as I should be, but the feeling of being hungry has returned. So, I’m able to sit with my family and eat some supper on most nights. I haven’t felt the intense need to urgently “escape”, since that day, either. My thinking has changed, although I’m uncertain about where I might end up. It’s like being on a familiar road. One I haven’t taken in a very long time, but remember well. It feels “safe”, but its security comes with a price tag. It becomes dangerous, but it really depends on whether I’m willing or able to find my way back. This road calls me further and faster down it. What starts out as a barely audible whisper, grows into roaring and thunderous shouts. “Stay here, where it’s safe! Turning back is too risky! They lie, you can’t trust anyone but yourself! They’re just going to hurt you and let you down, anyway!” The loneliness of traveling by myself hurts so much less than it ever does when I trust and believe in another person to hold the steering wheel, and wind up being taken to places I never expected they’d leave me stranded. Places I almost forgot even existed. Trusting leads me into naively ignoring all the signs and signals I’d have easily recognized otherwise. So, I gradually find myself quietly shutting everyone out. I flee from anyone who gets too close. “You made me smile, so fuck you”, I say to myself. I tell myself that every attempt to make me feel something, even happiness, is malicious. It’s not safe to let them get into my head or especially, my heart. The desire to completely cleanse myself of everyone who could possibly harm me becomes near impossible to ignore. I dismiss anyone who tries to assure me “they would never…”, because I’ve got fresh scars to remind me of the hurt created by my own stupidity, believing someone else who easily broke their promises of “I would never”. Trust no one becomes my mantra, which is exactly why this road I’m on can be dangerous. I recognize all of this, and still, I can’t help but ignore every exit ramp that presents itself.

I’m not sure where I’m going, right now. I alternate between clinging tightly to Adam, and then pushing him away. And I can push hard. Some days, I don’t want to talk to anybody at all. I don’t even want anyone to see me. I search for independence, while reminiscing about the best times in my life, when I felt content and assured, knowing it was safe to depend on people. I clearly can’t decipher between what’s real and what’s just smoke and mirrors. If I could trust myself to at least recognize those things, maybe things could be different? This is all my fault. Everything. Life doesn’t just happen to us. We make choices, and those decisions create our todays. Today bleeds into tomorrow, and tomorrow spills into every single day after that. The tiniest of choices can lead to the biggest mistakes, hardest hurt, worst regret. Though we can’t ever be certain of everything tomorrow might bring, whatever happens still comes as a result of choices we make. It’s impossible to understand darkness, until all that’s light disappears. Cold is simply the absence of warmth, but when you’re wrapped inside a cozy blanket sheltered from the chill of night, cold and darkness are merely something you are abstractly aware of. It isn’t until you find yourself stuck inside absolutely frigid and pitch black misery, that you can begin to understand why I so fear allowing anyone besides myself to provide light and warmth. So long as it’s only me, relying on myself to find safety and warmth, I won’t have to worry about it being ripped from me again. I’m grieving the loss of so much that I held dear. I suppose it seems less painful to torch what’s left, than to have to wait and wonder when someone else is going to. Still, I love my husband so much. This is my conundrum. This is my struggle. The absence of pain isn’t pleasure. It’s indifference. It’s feeling nothing. I don’t know if pleasure is even real anymore. I find myself welcoming the hurt, because it assures me. I’m still here. I haven’t destroyed everything that made me human. I can still feel, and pain hurts less than feeling nothing at all.

I’ll Follow You Down

If I could find assurance
To leave you behind
I know my better half would fade
And all my doubts
Is a staircase for you
Opened out of this maze

The first step is the one you believe in
The second one might be profound

I’ll follow you down through the eye of the storm
Don’t worry I’ll keep you warm
I’ll follow you down
While we’re passing through space
I don’t care if we fall from grace
I’ll follow you down

I’ll follow you down to where forever lies
Without a doubt, I’m on your side
There’s nowhere else that I would rather be
I’m not about to compromise
Give you up to say goodbye
I’ll guide you through the deep
I’ll keep you close to me

~SHINEDOWN

I’ve always heard that anger is a secondary emotion. That anger comes from hurt, fear, guilt, sadness. It’s not something you feel on its own. While I do believe that to be accurate, anger seems to be the prevailing emotion taking over all others, right now. At least for me it is. Adam hasn’t expressed any anger around me. I wonder if he allows that to come out when he’s alone? Does he hide it from me? Or is it possible he just isn’t pissed off, like I am? I don’t want “vengeance”. All I really hope for, is to be done. Done with the people who don’t provide any more positive value to me or to my family. Done worrying about what’s going to happen today, tomorrow, and in the months to come. Done lying awake at night, running over and over in mind all of the possible “what ifs” that haunt my thoughts. Done answering questions and giving explanations to everyone texting and calling me to tell me whatever twisted version of this shit they’ve heard, either from Jackie herself, or passed down in this fucked up game of “telephone”. Every time it’s retold, new outrageous embellishments are added. I just want to be left alone. Is that so much to ask?

I barely have it in me to discuss anything other than the superficial with Adam. I so want to be able to put my upset into a “box”, so that I can keep it tucked away and find a little bit of normalcy again. But, it’s like trying to cram a gallon of water into a container that only holds an ounce. It spills out and pours into every other part of my days and nights. There’s nowhere to hide. It’s truly exhausting.

All I know for sure, is that I’ve got my husband’s back. Anybody who doesn’t like it can fuck right off. I will dissolve relationships with anyone who threatens my family. I don’t care how long I’ve known you, or how much I’ve invested in a relationship with you. I can absolutely manage without you. I’m ashamed that I’ve allowed people who’ve already shown me how willing and able they are to hurt me, to be part of my own happiness. I’m choosing to focus on who I have around me right now. The ones who actually love me like I’ve loved them. The ones who smile when I do, and cry when I do. I’ve learned that just because someone matters to me, doesn’t mean it’s reciprocated. I can’t fix anyone else. It isn’t enough to love someone. I have to take my peace back. My joy. My life. It won’t all be solved today, tomorrow, or the next day. It won’t take forever, though. I might not be able to see it yet, but there has to be a time coming when I can stop holding my breath. When I can put my pieces back together. Every time I’ve felt shattered like this, it’s the process of making myself whole again that reminds me of just how capable I am. I figure out again what and who I really want around me. I’m much more careful about who I share myself and my family with. Somehow, this anger is giving me strength. I’m determined to make it to the other side, because I’ll be damned if anyone is going to steal what I’ve spent my life working for. I’m taking back my power.

I Am Not Okay

Tonight the monsters in my head
Are screaming so damn loud
But I built walls so high
So they never even make a sound

It’s a mask, it’s a lie
It’s the only home I’ve ever known
‘Cause being who I really am
Has only left me more alone

I am not okay
And I need you to see it
I have so much to say
And no one to hear it
The reason I keep quiet
With so much at stake
I always feel like a burden, let it silence me
You’ll never understand
Why it’s so hard to say
I’m not okay

I’ll never have the words, I can’t explain this hell
But what if it kills me
If I keep it to myself?
To myself

~Citizen Soldier

A few days ago, last Thursday to be exact, I was very much not okay. It’s so fucking hard to explain the reasons why, inside my blog, when I can’t talk about the biggest “pieces” that make up this ugly and terrifying “puzzle”. It involves my kids, in a big way. While Jackie isn’t entirely responsible for this shit, she sure as hell contributed everything she could to it. I drive myself insane, trying to understand why. Not only this, but she recruited (or attempted to recruit) everyone close to me to participate in harming my husband and children as much as possible. She did manage to gather one of the people I’d never have expected would abandon me, or even be interested in listening to “my side” to this chaos. I’m so consumed with worries for my family right now, I have no more room inside myself to fight for relationships with anyone who can’t see or doesn’t care about what this is doing to me. It really is true, when life gets tough, you find out who actually does have your back. Who genuinely means it, when they promise they’ll always be here for you.

It’s almost impossible, to find words to express how I was feeling, last Thursday. I spent the entire day desperately trying to find something, anything, to believe in. I began to fantasize about my handgun that’s currently stored at my dad’s house, because we can’t have guns in our house until after Adam’s case is finished. He was charged with “domestic assault”. We’ve got attorneys who assure us the worst case scenarios that play over in our minds are almost certainly not going to happen. Still, the fears take over me. I made Hawaiian hot ham and cheese sandwiches, for supper. I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat anything. I attempt to force myself, and gag almost immediately after I put food inside my mouth. I lost 7 pounds in a week. That accounts for more than 7% of my entire body weight, which is becoming downright dangerous. My hot ham and cheese sandwiches are Mj’s favorite meal. I thought about making this supper for my family, and then finding an excuse to leave the house, so I could make my way over to my dad’s house. I knew he wasn’t home. I pleaded with God, please help me to see the things I used to. Where is the light? How do I begin to crawl out from inside this hole I’m stuck so deep inside? I didn’t want to ask Adam for help, because he’s struggling with just as much as I am. More, in fact. I don’t want my babies to see the pure hopelessness I’m battling. It’s such an intensely lonely place to be. I’m trapped inside a private hell, and I can’t tell anyone about it. My kids were smiling, and sat in the kitchen with me, telling me all about their days. The evening passed by quickly, and I never left the house. Instead, when Adam and I got into the shower, I experienced an absolute breakdown. I sat on the shower floor, and I yelled and sobbed uncontrollably. I got angry. All of these emotions I’ve fought so hard to keep within myself came flowing from me like water from a fire hydrant. There was so much built-up pressure behind them, once they started to come out, I was helpless to stop it. I told Adam, “I can’t find it. I don’t see it. I just want OUT!” Adam wrapped me in his arms, and begged me trust him, when he promises we’re going to be okay. He insists, he has contingency plans for every possible scenario. He asked me to please stop trying to pretend I’m alright, because I think I need to protect him. He sees my hurt. He feels my pain and worry. I see his, too. He’s carrying the weight of the guilt he feels, because we’re all going through this hell. He accepts all the responsibility for his family’s struggles. He blames only himself, but I don’t. I believe every one of us, who were involved, has a part they contributed. Some were bigger than others, but we all helped to create this mess. I know both Adam and I would give anything to be able to go back and do it better.

As Adam held me, on the floor of our shower, I looked into his eyes. Despite the shower water running down our faces, his tears were evident. His eyes were red, and full of concern. This only added to my own guilt and sadness. I’ve never seen my husband like this. Of course, he’s never seen me this way, either. We spent over 90 minutes, talking, crying, and clinging to one another inside our shower. Adam suggested maybe I should go talk with my doctor, about these physical and emotional symptoms I’m experiencing. I shook my head, and I told him I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to have any kind of pills that might slow down my body and brain, right now. He knew what I meant by that.

On Friday morning, something had changed within me. Although our circumstances were no different, the heaviness inside me seemed to have lightened significantly. I put music on, for the first time since this mess had been made, and I began to tackle the mess inside my home. I cleaned my kitchen. I got myself dressed. I made our bed. Mj and I made some monkey bread together. I washed, dried, folded, and put away four loads of laundry. When Adam got home from work, I smiled at him. He lit up and told me that was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He hadn’t seen me smile, in way too long. I made it through the entire weekend, without waking up only seeing and feeling darkness. I’m still afraid. I’m still hurting. I still can’t quite figure out how to get “me” back, or whether that’s even possible. Maybe I’ll just be different? As if a part of me has died.

I am consoled by the pact I made, with myself. I will not do anything to remove myself from this fire I’m fighting, unless. Only I know what that unless is. I listened to another song, whose words spoke perfectly the way it can feel, sometimes. It says,

“There’s a house that’s on fire deep inside of my mind. I’ve been stuck in the wreckage. I was taught I should hide. There’s an open window. Smoke is getting high. It’s gonna tear me to pieces, being forced to decide. Do I jump like a failure? Let it burn me alive? Should I feel guilty for running out of time?”

I say none of this for sympathy or attention. My writing here is the one and only place I can be brutally honest, without consequence. I can’t share my personal truths anywhere else. Dr. Phil says our “personal truths” are what we tell ourselves, when we’re all alone with ourselves. When we take off the “social masks” we wear, in front of everyone else. When we’re forced to look at ourselves honestly and reveal all the ugliness we attempt to keep concealed. This is simply mine. It’s not pretty, or socially acceptable. It isn’t what I’m supposed to say or feel or think or do. So, I write about all of it, and then I go put back on my “mask”. I want nothing more than to get back to a place where I don’t feel required to hide my ugliest parts from even the people closest to me. For now, I suppose I’m just doing my best to “fake it til I make it”. I hate that all I can write about is this sorrow and utter despair I’m fighting with. I wish I could be saying, feeling, thinking almost anything else. This is me, authentically, though. I’ve said from the start, I write about my real life. The truth is, I do have people who want to be here for me. I just can’t seem to let most anybody else “in”, right now. I trust almost no one. I have faith in nearly nothing. Words of encouragement seem hollow. Stop telling me it’s going to be okay! Please, just acknowledge these things that are plainly obvious to me. It isn’t okay. This isn’t right. How in the fuck can you tell me to “look up” while I’m still falling? All I can hope for is to finally find the bottom. Only then, can I possibly even begin to contemplate climbing back up and out of this.

Believe it or not, this is me in a much better headspace than I was, just a few days ago. So, there’s that. I’m going to go put some clothes on. I’ll do my hair and makeup, and I’ll do my best to cover up all these things I’m not ready or willing to let the rest of the world see. I imagine they’d all recoil in horror, anyway.

Gospel

I wanna make it out alive, never think about looking back
I wanna drive like hell when I steal the devil’s Cadillac
I wanna take that old Eldorado down a dirt road
With “How I Made it Over” playing on the radio

I wanna be solid as the earth and cool like the night air
I wanna believe even though I know life don’t play fair
I wanna wear my heart on my sleeve but be tough when I have to
I wanna dust off the stars and hang them on the wall for you

I wanna ask all the questions with answers we’ll never know
I wanna find my faith in records from long ago
I wanna set fear on fire and give dreaming a fair shot
And never give up whether anybody cares or not

~John Moreland

I’m about to get real honest, here…

Yesterday afternoon, I had to sit and compile a narrative of all the times Jackie has lied, betrayed me and my family, and been in legal trouble, in chronological order since I’ve known her. These are things I’ve long forgiven her for, but never forgotten either. Seeing them written down, forcing myself to acknowledge all the shit she’s done to hurt me, was painful as hell. I also feel like a total idiot. I believed I was smarter than this. I believed I wouldn’t tolerate anywhere near this much from someone. Somehow, I absolutely did, though. I loved Jackie. When I met her, she lived with her parents, inside a dysfunctional home. Dysfunctional would be an understatement. Her childhood was rife with traumatic events. I grew to love all of the good parts of her so much so, that I was willing to overlook the dangerous ones. I’m not simply referring to little quirks. I’m talking about some serious issues. Things she’s done, over the years, to sabotage my own happiness. Until yesterday, I hadn’t really sat with myself and considered why. Why would she do those things to me and my family? I believe Jackie needs to be needed. Although I can very much relate to that, I’ve never damaged someone just so I could be the one to repair it. I’ve never been envious of someone else’s joy. Certainly not someone I loved! I’m realizing the connection between the worst ways she’s hurt me, and when she’s chosen to do it. These things are done to me when I’m “too okay”. When my world is great. When there’s just no reason not to smile. What she fails to understand, is that my happiness doesn’t come at the expense of hers. I’ve never stopped her from finding her own path to the things she desires. In fact, I’ve literally done everything I possibly could to help her find it. I never held her failures over her head. I’ve never been cruel to her. I’ve been pissed off at her. I’ve told her exactly what I thought. I haven’t once uttered a sentence or acted in ways that the express purpose was to cause her pain. I’m still not going to actually describe the details of the things written down, yesterday. This isn’t about destroying Jackie. It’s about protecting myself and, most importantly, my family. I have no other choice, now. I have to bring out the ugliness that lies within these truths.

Last Friday, Jackie secretly recorded a conversation with me, where she intentionally provoked me. She said things that she was well aware would hurt me deeply. She was speaking so weird, and I couldn’t understand what the hell was happening?! Why was she saying these things to me? Why is she pretending not to already know the answers to these questions she’s asking? Why is she suddenly completely changing the opinions and the advice and the purpose of conversations we’ve shared so many times before? Why is she suggesting these blatantly false things about my husband and my children? Well, I get it now. She did it because she knew she was recording that conversation so she could share it with everyone else who matters to me, and torture me with it. As unbelievably shitty as that was, it’s what’s been done to my husband and children that’s unforgivable. I will never allow her back into our lives. The crazy part is, that still creates an ache inside my heart.

There’s a large divide, among the people around us. There are many who love and support Adam and me. There are those who are aware of previous incidents we’ve had with Jackie. And, there are some who seem to believe there’s truth to the spin that’s been put on her version of this story. While I’ll fully admit, there are pieces of her version that might not paint Adam and I in the best light, Jackie is very aware of the circumstances around those things. No one among us is capable of perfection in all things, at all times. She damn well knows our hearts, though. Despite this, she’s at least partially accomplished her goal to knock us down. And, it hurts.

But wait…there’s more.

I’m unable to share the “more”, yet. It’s a big and painful and horrendous “more”, though.

We’re trying to take one step at a time. One day at a time. One obstacle at a time. To solve the problems we can now. To prepare for the future possibilities. To let go of what can’t be changed or repaired or healed. There are times when I’m so overwhelmed, and it’s just too much for me. So much, I’ve considered completely removing myself from this unforgiving pain I’m inside. I won’t do it. There are moments when I do think about the relief that I could feel, just being certain that I wouldn’t have to spend one more minute like this. Could that maybe, just maybe, be a catalyst that rights some of these wrongs? Would the most important people to me be able to come together again? I’m not going to sugar coat my thoughts. They exist. Things have crossed my mind that I would never have imagined entering my thoughts, until now. Still, I won’t do it. Whether it’s selfishness or selflessness, I can’t quite be sure? I just know I need my husband and my children. I know that I couldn’t leave them all alone, and sentence them to even more pain, just so that I could escape it.

I’m loyal as fuck, to my people. Even I have a limit, though. So, goodbye Jackie. To my husband and my children,

Oh, we’re gonna find our way. Ohh, it’s gonna be okay, if we get through this moment…

~Claire Guerreso

I have to believe that.

Mess

If I could give this all back
I would be home in the morning
I’d wake up in a cold sweat
Take a flight back to the city I was born in
And I would wipe myself clean
Of what I knew was unimportant
I’d want typical things
I’d try to fit back into all my old clothing

And I would prove myself wrong
That all along, the problem was me
With all my bitterness gone
Happy, I’d be

I’ll move back home forever
I’ll feed the dogs
And I’ll put all my pieces back together
Where they belong, and I’ll say
“I’m a mess, I’m a mess, oh God, I’m a mess”

~Noah Kanan

I’m finding it so hard to write. How can I express only pieces of this pain I’m living inside. In time, I will be able to give every single detail, but I just can’t do it yet. I have to hold inside myself so many things. Things I’d normally have written extensively about already, if I only could. It isn’t that I don’t want to. Oh God, I so wish I could. My blog truly is my therapy. I’ve healed from so much pain, through simply “getting it out” in my writing.

There are a whole lot of layers, to this “shit cake”. It’s as if half a dozen or so of the most important people in my life have passed away, all at the same time. It’s not just Jackie. It’s much more than that. My children cry daily. I’ve seen my husband with tears down his face twice, in the last few days. He never even showed emotion like that when his dad died. Not in front of me, anyway. I’ve lost 5 pounds. I just can’t eat, and if I do, I can’t keep food in my stomach for long.

In spite of the tears and our troubles, my girls and I went shopping today. I took them to Culver’s, for lunch. We found some cute Summer clothes, and sandals. I think the kids are planning to get in the pool to swim, here soon. I cooked meatloaf, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, and rolls for supper, last night. We did our best to enjoy a “normal” evening together. It was the first time I’ve fixed supper, this week. Every night, since Saturday, Adam has made love to me. We both so desperately need each other. I can’t seem to find sex pleasurable to my body, though. It does feel good for different reasons. Getting as close as a husband and wife physically can be. This emptiness I know we both constantly are feeling, is temporarily ignored. It’s just him and me. Nothing else matters for those minutes our naked bodies cling together.

I don’t know what happens next. I’m not even sure what tomorrow will look like. I’m typically such a neat freak. I like everything to be in its place. If things aren’t tidy, I’m able to put all the clutter back where it goes. I can’t do that, inside my head, though. It’s just…a mess.

I Can’t Sleep


Hit my head against the wall till I got black eyes
Sitting on the sofa, drinking soda, watching plants die
It’s stupid, but I’m scared that I might lose it, and I can’t cry

I can’t sleep, I’m outta my head
I’m losing my mind and no one understands
And I can’t breathe, I’m over the edge
I’m dying inside, I’m afraid how this might end

~Tom MacDonald

I don’t know where to begin. I spent my entire yesterday, like a zombie. A zombie with constant tears streaming down my face. My voice is hoarse, from the sheer amount of bawling I’ve done. My entire world crumbled into tiny pieces, Friday night. The scattered shreds of what’s left will never fit together, the way they did before. We have to pick up what we can and build a new picture. The old one, the one I cherished and loved so fuckin much…it’s destroyed.

This is the part where I’m supposed to begin to explain why. I’m just not sure I can do that, yet. My heart aches in such a way, that it feels exaggeratedly heavy inside my chest. Its weight presses up against me and makes every breath harder to catch. Exhausted isn’t even a strong enough word to describe my body, mind, and soul. I did sleep, last night. I slept held tightly inside Adam’s arms, all night long. The night before, I’m not sure if I even got one full hour’s worth of sleep. Combined with the enormous stress and tears, I sort of crashed, last night. That gave me the ability to rest my body. At least a temporary reprieve, from this intense pain. It hovers all around me. I feel it in my sleep, too. I didn’t dream. I don’t even know when the last time I truly smiled was, and I’m used to spending the majority of my days laughing, grinning, and finding the happy all around me. I suppose it would’ve been sometime, Friday afternoon. We all swam, in the pool, and had fun. Adam and Justin fixed a leaky gutter, over our deck. Everyone and everything, was great. Within one unpredictable, unplanned moment, that all went to hell. Like a glass falling onto concrete, what was once this beautiful cup filled with the delicious life I got to carry with me, shattered on the ground. Its contents spilled out, and I watched as they swirled at my feet, recognizing I’ll never get that back inside what’s been so badly broken.

Justin, Jackie, Adam, and I will never be able to repair this. There simply is no going back to where we had been. I cannot fully detail the events that took place. I’ll write the bits and pieces that I can, for now. I was so provoked, by Jackie, I wound up pushing her, toward the gate to exit our backyard, and screamed at her to “get the fuck out“. Adam ran over to me, and wrapped his arms around my body, pinning my arms to my sides. He held me in the air and prevented me from being able to do anything I might regret. The only time I’ve ever lost my cool, that way, is when someone threatens my family. This time was no different. Shortly before this, Adam had been so provoked, he wound up leaving our home in handcuffs. He’s not an angry, or a violent man. His actions were in REACTION to unjustified aggression. Adam’s just bigger and stronger, so he’s capable of much more damage. Despite this, Adam did not seriously injure him. He did not cause anything beyond some shortness of breath, like getting “the wind knocked out of you”, and possibly a bruise from falling to the ground.

As they cuffed his hands behind his back, I ran to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he gave me a kiss. I begged and pleaded NO PLEASE, NO, but I couldn’t save him. He was so stoic. I didn’t even see fear in his eyes. I saw anger. I saw frustration. I’m pretty sure I saw defeat, as well. He was also recognizing how forever changed we were all sentenced to be. Adam told me to lock the doors. As soon as I shut and locked our front door, I slid down it, onto the floor, and began to sob so loudly, I surprised even myself. I cried so hard, for so long. He spent the night, and most of yesterday, in jail. I posted his bond, and was able to pick him up, late yesterday afternoon. He’s never been arrested, or inside a jail cell. He’s a good man. Just like me, though, he has a limit to what he will tolerate. He’d never hit a woman, either. Just to make sure that part’s clear. It was only me, who lashed out at Jackie. I recognize how vague this must all sound. I not only need to be careful, about what I say right now, but I’m also not ready to take myself back through the entirety of the events that transpired. It’s as if there’s a foggy haze, covering everything inside my world. It’s blurry, and unfamiliar. I’m hurting more than I have ever hurt before. This is the depths of pain, for me. I’m scared to death. I’m sad. I’m grieving the loss of what was, knowing we can’t get that back. I’m grieving the loss of what was supposed to be, knowing that’ll never be. Not in the ways it should’ve been, anyhow. This chapter of life, one that I expected was only beginning, has abruptly ended. The pages were torn from the book. The next chapter’s being rewritten, because the story has changed. It’s not what I wanted. It’s not what I intended. Unfortunately, the damage is done. I know that closure will come, in time. For now, I feel ripped apart inside. It hurts more than I knew I could hurt. Adam blames himself. I don’t blame him. I blame myself, because if I hadn’t lost my shit on Jackie, we likely wouldn’t have ended up in this place. Justin and Jackie betrayed us in such a way, it would be impossible to allow them back inside our world. They caused our family to be irreparably damaged. Instead of working with us, they went completely against us. Instead of helping, they helped to harm. It breaks my heart, to have to say that. I never imagined anything like this would happen to me, or to my beautiful life. To our kids. To our family. It’s making me physically ill. I’m not alright. I have to trust that I will be. For right now, though, I’m confronted with the reality we all played our parts to create. So, I have to live inside it now.

Lo/Hi

You get low
Like a valley
High
Like a bird in the sky
You get low
‘Cause you’re angry
Low
High
High
Low

One at a time
Get in line for the masquerade
Drink ’til you cry
And you’re lying in the mess you made

~The Black Keys

I have seriously not been in any real trouble with Adam, in a very long time! Every so often, a part of me contemplates pushing the boundaries, just to see what’ll happen. Then, another part of me argues, but look how long it’s been since I’ve had a sore behind! That’s the competitive side of me speaking, and she speaks to me much louder than the side whispering ideas to test Adam’s resolve. I’ve had a few instances, spread out over months of time, where I’ve slipped in a little wag of my middle finger, or rolled my eyes. If he reacts with his hand connecting to my backside, it’s not been anything remotely serious. We always goof around together. I frequently receive playful swats on my butt, from Adam’s hands. It’s just that it’s been an incredibly long period of time, since I’ve struggled to stay seated, or had to sleep on my belly for a few nights. I don’t enjoy pissing my husband off. There’s a sort of line, before the LINE. The first line, I know I’m not really supposed to cross. But, when I do, as long as it isn’t frequently done, I know that even if I get spanked for it, he won’t be seriously upset, and my butt will not be sore. The only caveat, would be if I did any of those minor “line crossings” too soon after a serious one. Beings I haven’t taken any big steps over the lines, in so long, I suppose I feel a little bit more cocky about pushing it just a little, a little more often. That’s been the extent of trouble I’ve found, since I can’t even remember when. Last Fall, maybe? Possibly even longer.

One other “side effect”, of my staying away from trouble, is the absolute confidence I bring to our bedroom. I can’t really explain why, but I grow less often “submissive”, when it comes to sex. I want to be on top more. I initiate more often. I talk dirty. That’s not to say that Adam isn’t mostly in control of things, but I guess there’s some sort of “fire” that burns more strongly within me, when I’m filled with the arrogance of having stayed away from the painful kind of spankings that bring out, what I call, Adam’s “hard hands”. I’m very turned on by knowing, seeing, and occasionally feeling the difference between Adam’s gentle hands, and his tough ones. His hands are full of calluses. In fact, his calluses have calluses. He not only works with his hands, but he also works out with weights, at the gym. Despite the roughness in his hands, he’s nearly always incredibly gentle when he puts them on me. It’s only rare occasions, when I’m reminded of how quickly his hands can morph into his very own, built in, “wooden paddles”. I suppose I become less fearful, of those hard hands, when I’ve only experienced his gentle ones for extended periods of time. I wouldn’t say I completely “forget” what they’re capable of. I simply grow to believe more assuredly, that those hard hands won’t make an appearance. So, I’m a little arrogant, in the way I conduct myself. Even in bed. Not that he would ever be someone I even remotely feared, when it comes to intimacy. Adam wouldn’t, and has never forced me to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with. Regardless of the circumstances! After I’ve done something bad enough to warrant a truly sore behind, I only crave his gentle touches. I need him to make love to me. I need him to hold me. I need him to soothe and comfort me. I need to know he still loves me. He’s still proud of me. He still believes in me. It takes awhile to regain this confidence I generally find, even during sex. I suppose there are good, and not so good things that come from my having stayed out of trouble. I can be sassy, and often tip toe just up to, or sometimes over, the line. I’m not quite as submissive, in my thinking and my actions. However, that can also translate into some great sex.

Those are my thoughts, this morning.

Jackie and I are planning to hang out, after awhile. I planned out our next week’s menu, and got the groceries needed for all our meals. I’m making fiastadas, for supper, tonight. Tomorrow, Adam’s grilling us some pork chops. I’m going to make my lemon and pepper green beans, and some pasta salad, to go with. Sunday, I’m planning to make homemade beef and noodles. I’ve already got pre cooked beef stew meat, that I put in our deep freezer after I’d cooked up a bunch of it. We get a giant container of stew meat, at Costco. Then, I cook it all up, separate it into freezer bags, and save it for later. I’ve also got Mj’s favorite, my Hawaiian hot ham and cheese sandwiches, on the menu for next week. I’ll make meatloaf, one evening. And, I’ve got everything to make a fried chicken casserole recipe everyone loves. That’s about all I’ve accomplished, so far today. I need to get some laundry going, and I’d intended to put on a cute little sundress. I should also get the darned cat litter changed out. That’s our every Friday job. We scoop it, in between Fridays. Then, on Fridays, we dump the whole thing out, I scrub out the inside of the litter box, and refill it with fresh litter. I hate the smell of stinky cat litter boxes! So, I do my best to prevent that permeating smell from ever spreading throughout my house.

I’m not sure what we’ll end up doing, this evening? Maybe I can talk Adam into playing a few games of cornole, with me? We’ll see where the rest of this day goes, I guess! Gosh, I love Summertime! Everyday is left to chance. The predictable, boring daily routines get to disappear, for awhile. Tomorrow, it’ll be JUNE! I’m already buying things for our Fourth of July party, at Poppy’s. Jackie, Mikayla, and I will be leaving for our Gulf Shores trip, in just one week! We’re all excited for that, too. I have a feeling this Summer is going to fly by, much the same way it does every year. While there’s lots to be looking forward to, I also want to do my best to enjoy all my todays. Every today is a chance to make memories. Even the ones that seem mundane, in the moment, become days to look back on and find yourself wishing you could be back inside that day. A day such as this one. A lazy, sunny Summer day, spent at home with my family. I hear my kids upstairs, playing a video game on the TV. The birds are singing loudly. My dogs are sitting at my feet, as I type in my blog. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m certain I’ll one day read the things I wrote here, and think to myself, gosh I wish I could go back inside that day. I know this, because I often have those thoughts, when I look back at my writing from time that’s in the past now. Sometimes it’s merely days later. Sometimes it’s years. It happens often, though. I’d reckon most everyone could relate to those thoughts, when reflecting on their own stories.

When I Pull Up

When I pull up in the whip they be sayin’, “God damn”
When I hop out with my shawty they be sayin’, “God damn”
They never show me love now they see I got bands 
Now they’re sayin’, “God damn”

~Justin Champagne

It was so weird, having Mikayla’s biological father here, in our home. He’d come down to Tennessee, with two of his brothers, and one of their wives. I hadn’t seen any of them in years. I never had any issues with his sister in law, or the one other brother of his. It’s only one of them brothers I’m particularly not fond of. They all left town, this morning. They drove over, and said goodbye to Mikayla. I think it was really special, for Mikayla, having everyone together, celebrating her accomplishments. I’m proud we were able to give her that.

Having said that, I have to smile. Her father, and his family, were in awe of our home. I won’t pretend it wasn’t a little fun, showing off the awesome life we’ve built here. Saying something, without having to use words. Telling them, we’re good. You didn’t get to keep me down. All the years they’d spent convincing everyone around them of how miserable life must be for me, after I refused to continue to tolerate anymore abuse, insults, or bullshit from them. It’s been over 10 years now, since I chose to quietly retreat. To no longer acknowledge or respond to any of their phone calls, text messages, emails, or third party messages. The very best “revenge”, is truly a dish served cold. I actually never expected, or desired anything like “revenge”. I truly only aimed for peace. I had no patience for, or care to participate in any of that drama. It’s immature, and it’s a huge waste of precious time. The years have flown by. Now, Mikayla is grown. Well, legally. She’s got plenty more growing to do, yet. Still, they’ve got no sway over me, or my choices. Not that they had much to begin with. Having that realization so obviously beginning to occur to my daughter’s biological father, and his family, was pretty great. The bonus points, were seeing them become completely aware of just how “okay” I’ve become. I’m not simply surviving. I’m thriving. And, so is the little girl they never seemed to figure out how to prioritize over hurting me. How many ways they used that sweet girl as a pawn in some game they didn’t know I had stopped playing. I literally felt these things hit them like an unexpected thunderstorm. I noticed the quiet respect even my husband was receiving, from them. I saw it. I’m always proud as hell, to be Adam’s wife. That was, admittedly satisfying, though. A silent, but immensely powerful moment of expressing so many things I so wished they’d seen, before. Wasting years so busy with the wrong things. While they were doing those things, we were creating this beautiful life, with our family.

I wasn’t able to really take all of those emotions in, until today. Today’s the first “normal” day, in awhile. We were sucked into this crazy whirlwind, full of emotional highs, lows, and everything in between. So, it’s only now that all of these extra things are dawning on me. I’m grateful for the sunny weather we got, for her party, and for our day at Poppy’s. I’m grateful for all of the people who participated in her celebration. Even the ones who aren’t necessarily my personal choices for favored party guests. It meant a whole lot to her. I’m grateful for all the help Justin and Jackie gave us, to make everything so nice and so perfectly amazing.

I’m just sitting here, reflecting on these last several days. We spent so much time planning and preparing, only to have it pass by in the blink of an eye. I’m a little sad for that. I’m so grateful we’ve made it here, though. It’s just sunny Summer days ahead, for the next eight weeks. They’ll be filled with family and fun. I’m ready to get that started, now that we’re finished with such an important beginning to all of our Summer.

Homemade

Where I grew up, gettin’ dressed up means
Buttoned down shirt and a good pair of jeans
Wasn’t Sunday supper without collard greens
Dad was boss, Christ is king
Friday night was livin’ for them lights to come on
Then I turned to Miller Lites when I turned 21
There’s some things about me that I can’t change
I’ll always be the [woman] that home made

Home made me love a dirt road
Home made me crave some ice cold homemade
Sweet tea only mama knows how to make
Homemade
Home made me love a small town
Home made me wanna settle down in a home made
For the two of us
Everything I love is homemade

~Jake Owen

I spent the last week, plus some extra days, staying busy from morning til night time. This morning, my sister, her husband, and Pj all gave us big hugs, as we told each other, see ya later. No goodbyes. Just see ya later. I stood out on my front porch, clutching my cup of coffee, as I gave them one final wave, and watched them drive away. Adam went to work. Justin went to work. Jackie went home. Mikayla’s not home, today. It’s just Wyatt, Mj, and me now. I came downstairs, intending to clean up. I couldn’t bring myself to push in the tiny chair that Pj had last pulled out. Or to put away the last few toys sat where she’d left them. She grows up so much more, every time I see her! I’m still sad I didn’t get to spend more time with just her and my sister, while they were here. It’s been a very full weekend. We made so many memories, over the course of just a few short days. I spent so many months, weeks, days, and hours planning and preparing for this time that’s come to its end. This chapter is over. We’re moving onto our next one. I’m both relieved, and sad, about it. My most favorite things will always be the homemade kind. The laughs, the tears, the joy, the love made together, with all my people.

Here’s to the Good Times

~FGL

Oh my gosh, today was so much fun! We haven’t had a day at Poppy’s, just hanging out and having fun, for way too long! I have a house FULL, tonight. We’ve got all my kiddos, plus two extra friends of theirs. We’ve got my sister, her husband, and Pj. Everybody’s getting ready for bed, now. I just took a minute to myself. I made some vanilla cappuccino, and I’m standing in my kitchen. I’m listening to the sounds of giggling and silliness, from my babies, upstairs. Meanwhile, they’re trying to get Pj down for bed, downstairs.

I truly don’t have much to say, right now. I’m pretty darned tired, myself. Besides that, it’s time for bed. My sister and them are leaving very early, tomorrow morning. So, I’m planning to be up by 5:30am, so I can hug and kiss everyone goodbye. This whole long weekend, we’ve been planning and preparing for, has reached its end. That always comes on much too quickly. It’s been a whirlwind. A beautiful, memorable one.