Category Archives: Old Times

Growing Up or Growing Into?

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It’s Saturday Night y’all!  The boyfriend is hanging out with his brother, and my kid is asleep.  Logically the next step is brew some coffee and write some bullshit.  So yeah.  Here I am.  On the internet.  Three minutes ago I had a realization, something that hit me so hard, so fast, that I immediately felt that need to get the words out of my head.  I can’t find my favorite pen, so blog it is.

I am a New Sarah.

Over the past 15 years, I have reinvented myself several times.  No one Sarah was completely the same.  Some Sarah’s were no good, some Sarah’s were too work-involved, some Sarah’s were at the bottom of the bottle, and some Sarah’s were domesticated housewifes.  So here we go again, I finally realized that I am a completely new Sarah again.

This new Me has been evolving for roughly 3 years.  The Divorce from “He who shall not be named” threw me to rock-bottom.  I wasn’t the best person, I wasn’t the best mom, and I wasn’t a good friend.  Honestly, I didn’t even like me.  Not even a little bit.  Actually, if Present-Day-Me met Me-From-3-Years ago, I’d slap her.  Or me.  Whatever, you get the gist.

I had to have a couple of major blows to my life to straighten out.  Those blows sucked, but I finally got it figured out and apparently just ran with it.  Usually my reinventions are somewhat similar.  Some sort of aspect stays with the next Me, thankfully, this time, the only thing that has stuck is my fuck-you-I-can-do-this attitude.  I think I’m just so amazed because of it.  Looking back on 3 years ago, I am borderline ashamed.  I have moments of deep shame, but then I remind myself that everything I did, caused, or went through, kicked my ass enough to learn from it.  Nonetheless, I am glad to say goodbye to the Old Sarah.  I am glad to kiss that life goodbye and stop glancing over my shoulder to make sure it’s not following me.

Today was a perfect day.  The Boyfriend had to work, so we had a Noodle and Mama Day.  We relaxed together a bit this morning, and after a quick breakfast hopped in the car and headed out.  We ran a couple of errands and then had lunch together.  After lunch, we went straight to the local farmer’s market and bought mushrooms (Noodle), Onions (as a complement to Noodle’s mushrooms), and peanut butter cookies (Me, duh).  Then we went shopping, we roamed around a couple of stores, causing a bit of trouble and looking for deals.  At Target I learned that my kid can con cookies off of ANY bakery in ANY store ANNNNND go back for SECONDS.

We came back to the house and set up some venison chops to marinate, and went right back outside.  It was a gorgeous day, and I don’t think either one of us could stay inside another day.  I had bought her a big jug of bubbles, so I sipped my iced coffee and she blew and chased down and stomped hundreds of bubbles.  A good grilled dinner and some relaxing, and she’s tucked into bed asleep.  I managed to clean the house before I ended up on my computer.

What made me realize the change in myself is that as I brewed my cup of coffee I realized I was/am completely happy and content.  That moment, as my coffee brewed, I thought back and realized how different not only I was, but how different I felt compared to a few years ago.  I finally learned how to live for me (and my daughter) instead of to someone else’s standards, or how I thought I was *supposed* to be.  I finally learned to love ME and my life, all the little quirks and troubles.  I learned to be happy with myself and enjoy the little things, and do it sober.

Things are not perfect and this life has had some pretty shitty moments, but now I realize that it will never be perfect, but I can make it as damn close as I can, and enjoy the ride there.

 

It feels good to stop looking into the past.

What Family Means and Blood Brings Troubles

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I’m aware that I’ve touched on this subject before, if not numerous times, but I need to get these words out of my head and into the world. 

Family to me isn’t as traditional as most.  Of course I have my immediate family; my Dad, Sister, Step Sister and Brother and step Mom, not to mention my daughter.  However, short of a couple cousins (whom I adore), a handful of friends replaces my extended family.  That’s just the way it is, there is no regret, dislike or anything else, it just worked out like that.  As kids my sister and I were never real close with my Dad’s side of the family, and once my Mom passed away her side of the family kind of drifted off (as did us kids).

During all of this, I met several great people who looked after me.  A couple of my friend’s moms are 2nd, 3rd and 4th moms to me, as well as random friends who have known me for years.  These people slowly became what I considered family.  There was no blood involved, just friendships that developed over time, and because of that, we spent time together when we wanted to see each other instead of at obligatory family functions.

That is what family is to me.

…

Some of you know  I have a “half-sister”.  My mother had a baby when she was in her late teen years, and instead of becoming a teen-aged mother she gave her daughter up for adoption.  My “half-sister” is 16 years older than me and apparently lives down south (I thought North, but whatever.)  I’ve only met her once in person, and I was too young to remember.

When she was in her twenties (late teens?) , she found us (through an aunt of mine I believe) and began to contact my parents.  I honestly don’t know my mother’s true opinion of it, but my first memory of her isn’t pleasant.  Lets just go ahead and say that the year before and after my mother passed, my half sister didn’t exactly make it easy on us.  (Think Dad unplugging the phone at 2am when we’re getting drunk-dialed-screamed at from another state, while cancer-ridden-mother tries to sleep.) After she blew off my mom’s funeral she disappeared again for about 7 years.

She surfaced again when I was 18 ( thanks to the same aunt – also the same aunt who blabbed to my Dad that I was pregnant with Noodle – Seeing a pattern here?) and called me.  This time it was to talk about how the fact that she was adopted, that my mother chose to let two wonderful people raise her was the reason she had a drug problem.  She then berated me for choosing to give my own son up for adoption, and then asked to live with me.

After that conversation, fast forward another 4 years or so and she resurfaces.  This time she’s pregnant and needs advice on adoption.  Oy.

Now apparently she’s straightened her life out.  Facebook allowed her to find me and my younger sister, and after almost a year, things finally went south.

[ My sister and I, especially I, have never pursued a relationship with her.   Yes, she is blood related, but we also have never met her (where we can remember) and only know her by the warpath she left behind.  Being friends with her on Facebook made me uncomfortable, it's hard to talk to someone who expects a full relationship out of you when you've never met, much less have nothing but blood in common.  I didn't mind a few jabs here and there and a "like" on a photo, but beyond that I shied away from it.]

Today she messaged me… again.  This time she asked if she should continue to attempt a relationship with my sister and I.  I was honest.  I told her that I didn’t see a point, that we could most definitely keep in touch via social networking but beyond that I couldn’t see a relationship developing and that I wasn’t really interested in working on one.  I told her my views on family and encouraged her to appreciate her loving parents and her own daughter and friends.

The response I got back set me off.  She resorted back to what she always did.  Her Bio family means so much to her, and when Mom died, it hurt her real bad.  - Excuse me while I try not to get mad again -

Yeah.  You know what?  ’97 may have been a long time ago, but it’s still pretty damn fresh to me.  I have absolutely no sympathy.  There is a huge difference between losing a bio-mom whom you met once (and then ditched the funeral for – as well as both grandparents funerals) while you’re in your twenties… and losing the Mom who you saw every-single-fucking-day when you’re in 5th and 3rd grade.  Big-fucking-difference.  It would be different if she hadn’t spent years in a drug-induced stupor, harassing me and more importantly harassing my mom when she was dying.  It would be different if she didn’t wait until she was in her 40s to try and nurture a relationship.  But it’s not.  That’s the way it is, and that’s the way it’s going to be.

I promptly told her what I wrote above ^^, as well as the fact that she shouldn’t go around digging up 16 year old graves to make herself happy.  I wished her well and again encouraged her to appreciate her own family and friends and that I didn’t want to dig up aforementioned grave again.  Then I promptly un-friended her and blocked her.

Maybe I should have had a little compassion, maybe I should have handled it better.  Truthfully?  I don’t care.  I lost all compassion for the situation years ago when I was berated for the same choice she later made.  I lost that compassion when she blamed putting drugs up her nose on my mother (which FYI : No one forced you to do drugs!).  I don’t care.

I’m glad it’s finally done, I hope that’s the last tie I have to cut.  It took me 26 years to divorce myself from her, and I wish it happened earlier.  She needs to move on, she needs to love her own family and nurture the relationships she’s taking for granted.  She needs to realize that we don’t know her, and we don’t want to get to know her.  We’ve been trying to heal the best we can, fix our own issues and problems, and speaking for myself, I cannot take on hers too, again.  I’ve been spending the last couple of years eliminating negativity from my life, and that was one of the relationships I put off getting rid of.

I forgive her for the person she used to be.  But forgiveness isn’t for her, it’s for me, it’s letting myself move on, and get on with my life.  I don’t want to be reminded of what she put my family through and what horrible emotion she invoked.  I forgive her for what she did and has done, but that doesn’t mean I want to be best friends.  I want to be done.

 

 

Family is not blood.  Family is love and caring.  Family is made of the people that stand by you day in and day out.  Family is made of people who love each other, not for their own gain, but just because.

A-Pick-Me-Up

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Because... Duh!

Because… Duh!

 

Sometimes when you’re down on your luck, angry or hurting, only a good friend can cheer you up.  I’m lucky, I have a handful of very good friends, and a handful of ladies who I could consider my best friends.  Through out these past few years I’ve learned a lot about friends, and what a friendship is really made up of.  Some of these lessons were painful to learn, but the more painful the lesson, the more important and vital it was.

Today, I’ve been grumpy all day.  I haven’t been feeling good thanks to a long-lasting cold (my compromised immune system blows) and my Crohn’s acting up.  Just a plain awful mood.  I felt like laying in bed, but instead dragged my butt to work and did what I had to do and more.  By the time I got home I was ready to curl up into a ball and sleep.  Ryan told me I had received a card from someone and he left it on the Kitchen Table.  So I open it up and instantly smiled.  A thoughtful card and a handwritten message from a friend made my day.  I wouldn’t use that gay saying “turned that frown upside down” but I wasn’t near tears anymore.

Sometimes the simplest things can fix a bad mood, and a card from a friend after a hard day can cheer you up.  It was just an awesome reminder at the end of my day that I am very lucky to have such great friends.  It also reminded me to return the favor and pay it forward.

Over the years, friendships have died, exploded and spontaneously combusted and I’ve learned.  Real friends can live next-door or across the continent.  Real friends could see you every day or you may have never met in person.  Real friends won’t give up when you’re a shit-head and stand by you when the going gets tough.  I’ve learned that sometimes a skype or phone coffee date is more meaningful than weekly ritual ones.  I’ve learned that taking care of a friends teddy bear means more than a lot of people know.  I’ve learned that friendship isn’t defined by simple terms, but by how much you care about someone.

So to my friends, I love you guys.

The Past Will Bite You.

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I’m a full fledged member of the “pretend it never happened” group.  When I say full fledged, I mean I not only have the decoder ring but I started the god damned group.  While I’m the first to acknowledge that my past is what made me who I am today, I am also the first to not think about it.  To ignore it even.  I don’t like muddling through my history, and I definitely don’t like thinking about the people I’ve hurt and the people who’ve hurt me.  It’s a hard thing to do, especially for someone who has always been focused on making her future.

A few months ago I started thinking about what a co-worker said, that you have to face your past before you can move onto your future.  I did some dabbling with that idea, drug up some not so pleasant memories only to bury them deeper this time… but with a new found hatred for the people involved in them.  I had tried to let go of the past, but for some reason it haunted me all the more.  So obviously my sub conscious was trying to tell me something, but short of bricking me in the head, I was going to ignore it.

Some time went by, and unfortunately my past kept popping up.  Whether it was because I ran into someone I was trying to forget or because a song reminded me of something I had lived through.  No matter how deep you bury them, those memories that make you wince come back to bite you.  Eventually when those memories popped up I started spending more time thinking on them… well, maybe analyzing them is a better way to put it.  You know what?  It’s time I start facing them, it’s time I start facing the people I’ve hurt.

Let’s say something before I begin, no one in any of theses situations is by any means innocent.  Everyone had fault in each problem, some more than others.  It’s just now I’m realizing that I’m at fault as well.  To say that I was innocent in each situation is a far cry, hell, you could compare it to a claim that I’m the virgin mary.

In the past 3 years, I’ve hurt a handful of people and put myself through some questionable situations that even though I wish I could take back, I wouldn’t.  I needed to be in those moments, needed to feel that pain and live through it to wake up.  After my divorce I was a mess.  Divorcing my husband didn’t hurt me but losing the life I had built and becoming a stereotype did.  All of a sudden I was alone with raising a child, paying a mortgage and working while she went to daycare.  It hurt.  I took it out on people I loved over and over again as I tried to find something to make myself happy in my personal life.  My daughter had always been my life, but what hurt was the emptiness I had felt after she had gone to sleep for the night.  So I searched.  I attached my heart to man who did not deserve it and in the end I broke the heart of my best friend because I was blind.  I made excuses for my behavior, I buried the reasons I did what I did behind lies.  My search for short winded happiness drove two people away, two people I loved.  Once I realized I was losing them, I acted even worse.  I had become destructive in my own personal life.

I had always made sure that my daughter was number one, I made her life as perfect as possible, but my own happiness?  For it?  I inadvertently hurt other people.  Truth be told, I hurt the people close to me in this vain attempt to be happy, and I never even got there.

Time passed, as it always did, and I turned inward.  I realized I had put myself into bad situations and took my time at night, after my daughter was in bed to look to myself.  I picked up old hobbies, and talked to old friends.  I became what other’s call a homebody and started to let myself heal.  Let myself get used to being alone and creating my own happiness.  Even in that personal progress, allowing myself to feel happy and letting myself learn to be alone, sober, and nerdy, I buried the hatred of people who I had lost, the ones who had gotten hurt enough to turn their backs on me.  I buried that and let myself believe that it was ALL their fault and that they had hurt ME.

Now we’re here, now I’m okay, I’ve been healing and accepting the things I’ve done.  Facing the past, and I’ve come to realize what I’ve done.  I guess this is the easy way out, writing an apology letter to no one, yet to everyone at the same time.  Finally I’ve realized just HOW damaged I was, and I realize how much I lashed out and hurt people who cared about me.  No one is innocent, but neither am I.  This is my admission that I’m at fault too.  I miss the two close friends I lost, and I’m sorry I hurt them.

I also want to thank them for putting up with me, and more importantly shutting me out.  If they hadn’t done that I wouldn’t have turned inward, even if it was out of anger at them, to fix myself.  I needed that, I’m just hurting for what I did to them.  I’m glad for all that has happened, the relationships with people I did have and the ones I still do, I’m glad I’m facing that I was one fucked up little girl and I’m glad that I’ve begun to heal.  I just miss what I had destroyed and hope one day they’ll think of me and forgive me, even if we never talk again.

 

 

 

 

Now as I re-read this post, it sounds sad.  While parts of it are, it’s the memory of the pain I caused my friends.  I wanted to note, now that I’m facing it, I feel a lot better.  You have to face the past, admit to it, before you can face the future.  This is my letter to say good bye to the past, I admit my wrong doing, so hopefully I can move past it in the future.

“I have my Mother’s Dreams, I have my Father’s Eyes…

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… You can’t take that from me, just go ahead and try” – Rise Against

There’s one thing that I’ve always lived by, it’s that if you want something bad enough, you’ll get it.  If you want something so bad that your heart feels like it’s going to explode unless you get it, you’ll find a way.  You’ll work and work and strive and sweat until you get whatever it is you want.  One of my exes actually said it best (now that I stopped hating him and actually listened): “You’re spoiled.  Not because you’ve been handed everything, because if you want something you refuse to accept failure, if you want something you get it.”

It’s been a pretty good motto to live by, especially when life is hard, which in my life is frequently.  Ha, I’m pretty sure life was only easy when all I had to worry about was saving my allowance to get the most current issue of the metal (music) mag I loved.  Through out this battle which I hesitantly call my life, I’ve been told I wouldn’t get this or that.  I wouldn’t go as far as so and so.  I would fail at whatever I was aiming for.  After hearing all of that, well, if any of you know my personality, ha, I busted ass and did it anyway.  Every step in this life, at least since I was a teenager has been a struggle, and frankly I’m glad it has been.  It’s taught me that I can fight a lot harder than I thought I could and that I can achieve anything I set my (bull-headed-stubborn-ass-annoying-don’t-take-no-for-an-answer) mind to.  Life has taught me I CAN do anything I want.  I CAN own a house, I CAN go to school, I CAN settle into a career (even if I want to burn the office down daily), I CAN be a parent albeit a single parent.  I CAN do anything and I HAVE done everything I’ve set my mind to.

Regardless of how bad any situation is, no one can ever take your dreams away.  It might seem like they can stomp out your hope, but deep down you’ll still have those dreams of what you want life to be like.  All it takes is a little determination and a little ass-kicking to get it done.  Trust me, it’s worth it, even if you make it by baby steps, every single fucking one of those steps is a victory.

Now though, I’m at a cross roads.  I’m debating on whether or not I should go for another degree, I’ve been thinking on it for a while now, and have set a deadline for the decision to be by the next spring semester.  I’m thinking about maybe a Bachelors in Criminal Justice (no, I don’t want to be a cop), but I’m just not sure.  I do like the current job I have, and if the company shows me potential that I can advance I wouldn’t mind just adding some classes to what I have already.  However, I like Criminal Justice and think I could make a decent career out of it.  So I’m weighing my options.  4 more years of college?  No school and full focus on my family.  A steady $45,000 a year to do what I’m interested in?  Staying at a company I like regardless of pay.  I’m also weighing it against my other goals.  Will this put off my goal of buying another house in a handful of years?  Impact the remodeling?  Impact my family negatively?  There’s a lot to go into it, and I hate setting aside goals to achieve others.  Whatever,  I have a few months to think on it… and whatever it is I do.. I know I have the support of the boyfriend and my family.

Since I know I can accomplish my dreams, it’s just a matter of choosing which dream to hunt down first.

The END of a Sentence

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So as most of you know, last year I had gotten myself a DUI.  45 days later, August 25th, my license was suspended.  Since then I’ve been driving with a Baiid Device in my car.  It was originally for 6 months, but I violated it and it was extended to 9 months.  Lesson learned… the next morning you are still drunk.  Anyway, so the time is about to come to an end.  This Friday I get my license back, and shortly after I get the Baiid Device removed from my car.

When I first had the device put in my car I was honestly really annoyed.  The problem I saw with it is not only can you not drive drunk (obviously), but you can’t drink at all… and if you do, you have to be very careful that your BAC is under .005 before you try to drive.  Now those of you who know my family, we’re a wine at dinner kind of people.  Or a beer at the lake.  All of those were off limits to me.  I was annoyed, but grateful to have my driving privileges back.  I thought I’d just count down the days, hate every day of it, and then be done.

You know what?  It wasn’t that bad, and all in all I have to give the device a good review.  I learned a lot from it, a lot more than I thought I would anyway.  For instance, you are still not okay to drive the morning after drinking (and subsequently I found out if a girl gets hammered at night, she usually has alcohol in her system until around 5pm the next day).  I learned that 1 beer and 1 hour is pretty much right, and more than that and you are not legally not safe.  I realized how many times I had put myself (and others at risk) not only of bodily harm but of getting a DUI.  There were many a nights where if I was too shitfaced to drive, I hopped in the car with someone who was driving… and thinking back on it… had a few drinks before hand.  I learned it was actually easier to take a cab to and from a night out, instead of dealing with the hoopla of “Are you SURE you’re sober?”.  I learned that a lot more people drive drunk than I even realized.

The two most important things I learned?  Oh yeah, epiphany coming here.  I learned I drank too much, too frequently and it changed my behavior to something I didn’t like.  That first month I wasn’t allowed to drive I really wanted to go out… as the month passed I realized that (while okay for others) my want to go out once a week was too much for me.  I started to think about why I wanted to go out, what good I would get out of it and why I wanted to drink.   What it came down to was I wanted to go out because I saw it as a break from my daughter, since my divorce I had been a single parent and the world rested on my shoulders.  Going out with my friends and having a few drinks was how I was coping with the stress of all of that, not to mention being sick.  I had a lot of fun, I did, but what I had to figure out was why I didn’t want to be at home.

This whole time Ryan and I haven’t gone out much, just a few times here and there.  Mostly because it became a hassle and we didn’t feel like dealing with it.  So we spent a lot of weekends at home this past weekend and I learned something doing so.  As the time progressed, we spent more and more time at home, we watched movies, had friends over, did special things things for our kids and had dinners to ourselves.  We worked on my house and made quite a few memories doing it.  As the time passed I learned why I didn’t want to spend time at home.  My home didn’t feel like a home.  Up until last summer, things were always dramatic at my house.  Of course the divorce and following restraining order, but also a traumatic relationship and my Crohns flaring not once but three times.  Home was where I was alone to think, and home was where I had to face my demons.  I was too busy facing said demons and trying to escape them to even consider my house a home. Once Ryan and I started dating I wasn’t alone with my thoughts anymore, I didn’t spend what time I had at home over-thinking things as well as the future, I had someone to talk about everything with.  I had someone to share my thoughts with, and I had someone who had similar thoughts.  So as time passed, things came out in the open, and I was able to lighten up a bit.  I didn’t need to go out and get loaded to feel carefree, all I needed was someone to talk to and a cup of coffee.  Once things came out it was easier to relax, it was easier to enjoy my house and my life and make those memories.  With all of that time, all of those memories, I made my house a home.

Things have progressed quite well these past handful of months, and now this suspension is coming to an end.  I’ve learned a lot and I’m sure I have a lot more to learn.  Am I done drinking?  No.  I’m sure we’ll still out once in a while and get drunk and dance like monkeys.  I’m sure I’ll have that glass of wine with dinner at my Dad’s house.  Now though?  Now I don’t NEED to get loaded to have fun.  I don’t WANT to go out constantly (ha, if at all, Sarah finally turned into a homebody).  I learned what a risk it is, not only to myself, but to my friends, family and relationships.

Sure, I wish I never got that damned DUI, but honestly, if I didn’t, things would be much different now.  I’m not quite sure I ever want to know how that would turn out.  So in a way, I’m glad it happened.  That stupid DUI changed my life, and it changed my life for the better.  I can only hope life continues to be great, that I continue to be happy, and that things keep working out.  I’m happy, and it’s almost painful to admit, but the DUI and facing the resulting (or always there but hidden) demons gave me this chance to turn things around and be happy with my life.  Everyone needs a second chance, and I’m glad I got mine.

 

 

Not only that, but I might miss that device a little bit.  I named him Sammy… and what will I ever do with out that thing beeping for attention and distracting me from my music.  :)

Thunderstorms and my mini-me.

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My daughter is yelping at the front window, with every flash of lightning I hear “I saw a flashing light!! Mama I hear the thunder!”  A good storm is starting up and I’m glad my kid loves them.  We had a nice talk yesterday about how you shouldn’t be scared of thunderstorms, that they are really cool and fun to watch.  Yup, that’s me, grooming my daughter to be an enthusiast right along with me.

Thunderstorms are my favorite type of weather.  I look forward all winter to the first spring storms and watching them roll in.  There is nothing else like watching the storm clouds come to a head and explode into wind, rain and brilliant bright lights.  I’ve been obsessed with thunderstorms and weather as long as I can remember, my earliest memory of them was standing outside with my Dad, hearing the sirens go off, watching for funnel clouds.  I always wanted to go to school to be a meteorologist, and at the very most?  Chase storms.  I learned everything I could about weather growing up, I read book after book, studied different radar shots and learned as much as I could about weather phenomena.  Storms are my forte.

Years and years later, I still love them.  I do the same thing my dad did and take my little Noodle outside to watch the storm begin.  I get a thrill when she gets all excited at the first lightning flash.  Then, when my almost 5 year old asked to see what the radar looked like and what everything meant, my heart melted.  She is definitely my mini-me.

For now?  I’m content sitting in bed with my coffee, listening to her chirp at the lightning flashes and laugh at the thunder.  Teaching my daughter simple thrills, teaching her to appreciate and love nature is what I’ve been aiming for… and it seems like it’s working.

 

A Bitch Called Hope

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There’s this song by Blood for Blood (if you haven’t heard them and don’t like hardcore, don’t waste your time.  You’ll want to stab yourself in the ears.) called “A Bitch Called Hope”.  I used to relate to that song a lot, hell even now, more than 8 years later.  Hope is a hard thing to hold onto sometimes, but one thing I’ve realized through all of these years?  I need to have hope.  I need hope to thrive, to survive, and to strive for more.  With out hope I get nowhere… as I proved for a couple years as a teenager.

At the same time though, when you hope and pray for something, especially when you’ve worked your ass off for it, and whatever it is falls through?  It’s devastating.  Sometimes hope can almost destroy you in the end, and knowing that is what makes it so hard.  Hope is a bitch, a cold-hearted bitch, and that stupid bitch will screw you over if you give it the chance.  So sometimes I’m wary of hope.

I’ve always lived by the motto: Hope for the best, expect the worst and work your fucking ass off in the meantime.  I think that whole line of thought is what has gotten me labeled as a pessimist more than a handful of times, but you know what?  It works for me.  It keeps my ass in gear, my mind working, and helps me prepare for the worst in any scenario.  It allows me to continue to bust ass for something I want, but kind prepare for if things don’t work out as planned.  Almost mutes the devastation if it comes my way.

There has been so much going on in the past few years, quite honestly a lot of it got me down for a while there.  In the not to recent past I had almost given up hope that things would get better.  I saw nothing in my dead end jobs, nothing good coming out of being a single mother working sometimes upwards of 16 hour days.  I lost the motivation to love my life and improve what I didn’t love.  I did the basics for my daughter, made her life as perfect as I could, but as for everything else?  I shut down.  In all reality, that helpless feeling I had as I watched my life circle the drain broke me.  It did, it broke me far worse than the abusive marriage I was in, my self-caused train wreck teen years, anything.  That hope that I had clung to for so many years just disappeared.

When things were getting to be damned near unbearable, I finally caught a break.  I was offered a job, and then immediately offered my current job.  Then, like a brick through a bay window, that hope was back.  I knew that if I kept busting ass, life would get better.  You know what?  It most definitely has.  It’s never ending hard work, but it’s worth it.  Last Spring/late winter, one year ago, I was sitting at this kitchen table trying to figure out how to afford my gas bill.  I was barely making enough to afford food, much less my bills and medical treatments.  I was sitting at this table, praying for a hand up, a break, something.  I was headfirst into a bottle a lot of those nights, because at that point I didn’t even want to cope.  I just wanted peace.

Now?  Things are much better.  Not perfect, but enough to make me happy.  I’m still at a wonderful job, I’m in a wonderful relationship, and I’m working on my relationships with my family and a few old friends.  I realized that I need to keep busting my ass and fix my life, and since I was given that sliver of hope, it’s been a fight to keep it ever since.  It’s nice to be able to look back and reflect, the contrast between last year and this one…. it just proves that it was worth it all.  That things DO get better if you work for it, and having that little bit of hope just pushes you along.

Hope is still a bitch though, but hope is here to stay.

Back in the game.

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I had coffee with one of my good friends last night.  Her and I have been friends for years, we’ve known each other since we were kids back in the old neighborhood.  After I moved out we lost contact for a few years until I moved into an apartment with my ex-husband in Lindenhurst.  One day when I was doing laundry, I bumped into her on the stairs.  The girl I had known from the neighborhood lived in the same building with me.  I was shocked, mostly because it wasn’t a huge building, it only had 12 units in it…. and was one of many buildings.  What were the chances that we ended up in the same place?

She was there for it all.  She was there when I was pregnant with my daughter, her family brought me a gift after we came home from the hospital.  She was there when I was sick that year with undiagnosed Crohns.  She was there to see the fights with my ex-husband, her family was there to call the police for me when he beat me up.  She was there to face him when he blew up.  She was there when I put him in jail for domestic abuse.  She was there when I had to get my bruises photographed while my husband was in a cop car.  And she was there when he was arraigned the next morning.

She was there when I started a new life, when I bought my house, divorced my husband, worked through becoming a single mom.  She played a big part in my life.

Then life got busy.  She moved, I started two jobs, and life went on and we lost touch for a little while.

Then her ass finally joined facebook and we started talking again.  She came over for coffee (like old times) last night, hung out with me, my daughter, and it was like we never missed any time at all.  It was nice talking to someone who knows my past, who is completely on my side, and isn’t only friends with me when it benefits her.  It was nice hearing her family wanted to say hi, and hearing the stories about them and her boyfriend.  It was nice telling her all the stuff Noodle has been doing, and about Ryan.  It was hilarious getting riled up about the same shit we used to.  Before I knew it, 4 hours had passed.

There are plans to continue hanging out.  Continue.

I am happy.

Good friends are hard to come by, and the ones that are there can pick up where we left off with out a blink.  I’m lucky to have her and my other friends in my life, everyone has had such a positive impact on me and my daughter, and I’m grateful for every last one of them.  :)

Almost flattered.

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Well actually I do.  Apparently, living my life and being happy is enough for someone to hate me for 9 months now.  9 months, that’s a long time I’ve had to endure online attacks, at least the texts have stopped.  It’s amazing though, I’m almost flattered.  I haven’t been doing anything to provoke anyone, the only thing I’ve been doing is keeping to myself and writing.  I’ve been working hard, enjoying the little things, and loving my family.  Unfortunately for me, that’s enough for a hater to hate.  Yet again, the same person is actively slandering me on the internet.  Yet again, the same person has stated (is this the 2nd or 3rd time) that my own daughter would be better off if I was dead.  The difference this time?  Instead of just saying “dead”, she said murdered.  

I don’t get it.  I know she had her feelings hurt when Ryan refused to see her anymore, but come on!  She cheated on him!  I don’t understand how us being happy is a personal attack to her.  She has said it’s not that, then what is it?  Read through my twitter (it’s linked at the right upper corner of my page).  Read through my blog.  When was the last time I even mentioned this?  Maybe when I had to file a police report?  I don’t know what I’m doing to egg on these attacks, and not only attacks against myself, but attacks against my daughter.  My 4 year old daughter.  What adult person attacks a child?  That’s what I don’t understand.  No matter how much I dislike someone, I never bring their children into it.

At first, I was going to defend myself against the things she has stated online, but you know what?  I’m not.  I know they are not true, the people close to me know they are not true.  That is good enough for me.  I live a good life, I stay out of trouble, and I take care of my daughter.  I have good people in my life and I’m happy with where things are.  I’m tired of the attacks, I’m tired of the taunting.  I’m done.  I don’t care if this person calls me a whore, slut, or whatever they may, but that’s on them if they want to believe it.  I just want to be left alone, and I want my child left out of it.  I will protect my family, it’s the most important thing to me.  I am done with this nonsense.