Frustration and Insomnia

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These past couple of days have been really frustrating for me, to the point where it’s keeping me up at night.  I haven’t had insomnia in years and quite frankly, I’m not too happy to be reunited with this old “friend”.  Everything has just been so incredibly hectic lately, both at work and with my family.

One of my family members is in hospice right now, and while we’re not super close, it has hit me pretty hard.  Not just because I’ll miss him, but because it’s reminding me of my mother.  Saying goodbye on Friday was painful, not just because of the impending loss of life, but because I know the pain his direct family will feel.  I remember it from when I was a kid.  Watching him in his bed brought up a lot of memories I didn’t really want to remember.  I’ve been trying to drown out those memories with great memories of him.  My favorite was the summer we spent at his house (my mother had passed and my dad had to work).  We’d get dropped off in the morning and picked up at night.  I remember sitting on the porch, watching him mess with the guitar.  I thought he was so cool, I even bought him (a really girly haha) earring because he was the only guy in my family who had his ear pierced, and sure as shit he put it in and rocked it.  I’m trying to remember that, and that’s how I will remember him, not ridden with cancer.  Yeah, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the whole situation and battling the memories of my mom being sick and worrying about his family.  I’m just.. yeah.  Out of words.

Work has been… well… work.  It goes through waves, it gets really hectic and we get behind, and then it gets better and we’re on top again.  The stress from that on top of my family issues and my (3 week) cold has just really got me down.  I was reminded how much I appreciate my “work family” though on Friday.  One of our CSRs called off (despite it being hell week) on Thursday and had already planned on being off Friday through Monday, so on top of it being super hectic, I had to do her job as well.  On Friday, I was just having a super hard time (mostly getting my brain prepared to go to hospice that evening) and, for lack of better terms, I was a hot mess.  My coworkers did their best to help me out and let me know that they understand.  Small favors with the literal work, and dealing with my moodiness and rapid breaks.  On my drive down to hospice I realized (yet again) how grateful I am for the people I work with.  Sure, we all get on each others nerves and we’ve had our bumps in the road, but every last one of them has proven time and time again that they’re just a different extension of my family.

Today I’ve calmed down a bit.  Caught up on some work I left behind Friday afternoon ( I left early to beat rush hour to get to hospice ), went shopping with the boyfriend and kid and relaxed.  Tomorrow I’m going to take the monkey kid bowling, she’s been asking to go for quite a while now.  I think some hang out time with her will definitely cheer me up.

I just have to remember to keep my chin up.

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Damn Growing Up

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I’m feeling old.

Well kind of.  We all know that I’m pretty much 11 years old mentally.

I still laugh when people say boobs.  Or penis.  Or pretty much any kind of word relating to genetalia.

However, getting my daughter ready for school is kicking my ass back to reality.  She starts 1st grade in 2 weeks… and it’s public school this time so it’s a brand new ball game.  I’ve started school supply shopping and finished taking her to her school physical and dental appointment.  Her bus route is all set to pick up and drop off and “daycare”.  It’s just odd.  Kindergarten didn’t have the same effect on me, she was lucky enough to go to the same school that she went to preschool in, so a lot of this stuff was different.  I guess, just grade school is freaking me out.

She’s excited, and I’m excited for her.  I think she’ll do fine, although I am a bit sad that I won’t be able to wait with her at a bus stop or anything of the sort.  Such is the plight of a working mother.  However, I know all of her teachers at her daycare will see her off.  I’m hoping that she likes her teacher, and thrives.

It’s just like FUCK man!  I know my kid is getting older… I’m well aware, she shot up another 4 inches over the past 6 months.  I think it was looking over the school supply list that did it.  I still remember shopping for school supplies with my mom (in grade school) and my Dad after that.  It occurred to me that, HOLY SHIT, I’m…. I’m…. basically my parents!

It’s surprising the little things that remind me that I’m not 16 anymore.  It’s not paying the (goddamned) mortgage, or my insurance.  Fuck, it’s not even looking over my retirement fund.  It’s not managing my Infusions and doctor’s appointments, nor is it working on the yard.   It’s the school supplies.  It’s the “No you can’t wear my undies on your head… and you most certainly can’t do it to school” moments with my daughter.

Eh.  I feel like…. my mother.  Haha.  Whatever.  Maybe I’ll just give myself a mohawk or something.

Fathers Day and a One Year Anniversary

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Let me start off this post with a belated Happy Father’s Day to all the wonderful father’s I know out there.  From my friends, to my own Father to my boyfriend.

A Father is his son’s first hero and his daughter’s first love.

That being said, this Father’s Day was a bittersweet anniversary for Noodle and I.  One year ago on Father’s Day was the last time she heard from her father, Tim.  At this point I don’t even want to call him a father but I hate that stupid term “sperm donor”.  Anyway, last year at this time, he had already up and moved to Colorado after giving us only 3 days notice.  He had promised to call Noodle, promised her he’d be back in a couple of weeks, and promised me he was going for work and would send money as soon as he good.  One year ago on Father’s Day, he called for the last time and got mad that Noodle didn’t want to talk on the phone with him, since she was busy playing with about 15 children at a barbecue.

We never heard from him again.  Through a little digging on the internet, we found out what town he’s living in, that he’s unemployed and living off of his new girlfriend (what a surprise) and that he spends his time in the bottom of a bottle.  Tim broke my daughters heart as he broke each and every promise he ever made her.  While he was off starting another life for the 4th time, I was here dealing with a 4 year old who was facing the fact that her own father doesn’t love her.  While he was at the bar with his new girlfriend, I was rocking my child to sleep who had spent hours crying for her father.  While he was off doing what he wanted, I fed a brand new hatred for the man.

It’s been one year.  I knew he wouldn’t come back, hell, even his own mother has admitted that.  It’s been one year, and the hatred has just grown.  However I’ve become more confident.  Slowly my little girl stopped asking for her Dad, and slowly I realized I could do this on my own.  Slowly she got over losing him and slowly I got stronger.  A lot can change over a year, and my family is proof of it.  The anger I have against him has fueled me into making myself a better mom.  The burning anger at the memories of my daughter crying for her father, pushed me to spend a lot of time with her and realize I’d rather be with her than anything else.

It’s been one year since Noodle’s dad willingly left, and it’s given me one year to strengthen my family and my relationship with my daughter.  It’s been one year and she’s okay and I’m okay.  It’s been one year, and I can swear to god… if he ever comes near my daughter again I’ll rip his head off.  I will not let him do what he did to his son and pop in and out of her life.  We’re better off  with out someone who chooses drugs and drinking over his kids.  I’m glad he’s gone.

Happy Father’s Day (belated).  More importantly, Happy One Year Anniversary to Noodle and I.  Here’s to many more years!

The Here and Now.

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We all have a past, some of us have a past we are not proud of, sometimes we even hide it.  I know my past is pretty bad, I wasn’t the best of people for a good 5 or so years, and then again for another year or so more recently.  I did some pretty horrible things growing up, I made some really horrible choices and hurt some very wonderful people.  I screwed up a lot and was on a pretty decent downward spiral.  The majority of people I know don’t know the details, if they know any of it.  I’m cool with that.  My past is in the past.  My past helped me learn and develop into the woman I am today.  I am who I am in the here and now, not who I was 10 years ago.  The people that do know the down and dirty?  I hope that they see me for who I am, not who I was… because God knows it’s hard to not pass judgement.

When I look at someone I try to see the real person in front of me.  I try and gauge them by current choices and by actions in the present.  I take them as they are and learn to love them for who they are and who they are becoming.  A lot of people I know have very checkered pasts.  Some of them did too many drugs, some of them made poor decisions that ended them in trouble with the police, some of them were thrown into some pretty unpredictable circumstances that they couldn’t control… all of which still haunt them.  You know what I see though?  I don’t see the ex-drug addict, I don’t see the felon, I don’t see abused/beaten down/broken people.  I see a good wife, I see a wonderful riding partner, I see a great father.  I see someone who spends their time now digging gardens instead of doing drugs.  I see someone who spends time with their children instead of breaking laws.  I see someone who professionally rides street bikes instead of hopping from couch to couch.  I see a successful employee, a family man, a husband, a wife.  I see laughs, happiness, love, children, homes, careers and life.

Everyone you know makes mistakes, some of us just make some more severe ones.  Everyone you know has a past and whether or not they like it a future.  Don’t look at who a person was, just who they are, who they have the potential to be.  It’s called being open.  It’s called being loving.  It’s called being accepting and in some cases it’s called giving someone a chance even when others say they don’t deserve one.  Everyone is something to someone.  Not just what they did before, but what they do now.