One is a Lonely Number

Below is a post I had written Friday. I didn't post it then, so I am posting it now. Now, I am home alone. My foster child is with another foster family this weekend - this should make more sense when you read the information below. I guess, despite all of the issues, I got used to having someone in the house. I'm an extrovert, I like having people around. I don't generally like being on my own for extended periods of times. The only time I lived alone before March was when I was in the Peace Corps and despite living in the house alone, I was only alone at night. During the day my house was either crawling with neighborhood kids or I was out visiting other families. One has to try very hard to be alone in Nicaragua. So, I would never choose to live alone. Yet, here I am. Just one more thing to deal with, I suppose. But, I digress. Along with the show.....

In part, I wanted to be a foster mother to fulfill my intense need to mother a child, even if that child would never be my own. I had made up my mind, before I got the call, that I would take any child they called me with. I wasn’t thinking they would call me with a pre-adolescent child. But, I took her anyway. In the past 4 months I have felt like a big sister, a camp counselor, a prison warden, a housekeeper, and a target but never have I felt like a mother. This past Monday I officially submitted my 30 days notice. What this means in foster care speak, is that I am asking CHOR to remove this child from my home and they have 30 days to do it. It was  not a decision I made easily. But, I had finally reached the end – the end of my patience, the end of my belief that I could help this child, the end of my ability to deal with the multitude of behavioral issues. I am sad that it has come to this because I truly wanted to be able to help her. But, it is beyond that now. Even my own parents, who raised three kids with varying trying behaviors and issues, stated their inability to deal with the behavioral issues. So, in 30 days my home will once again be devoid of children.

I have learned a lot through this 4 month ordeal. First, I do not want a child who is older than 5 in my house. Older children have potentially been in the unhealthy family environment too long to effect much change in their mode of operandi. In order to save money, “the system” decided to offer more in-home services to keep the kids with their families until absolutely necessary to remove them. What this generally equates is children with more profound problems, making it harder for them to flourish in a foster home. Such was the case I encountered. Second, I learned that I have a lot more parenting skills than I thought I did. I guess I must have learned them from watching my parents. At the very least, it is comforting to know that while the lady parts might be broken, the mother inside me lives. Third, and I think the most important thing I learned, is that I can do this on my own. I don’t mean to say that I did not get help from CHOR because I did – a lot. But, I mean the daily grind and following a schedule, that I managed to do on my own. Not without some hiccups and issues, but still I managed. And more than anything, I solidified my decision to pursue adoption as a single woman.

After losing the baby and Flaco walking out, I wasn’t sure I wanted to try becoming a mother on my own. Call me old fashioned, but I believe it is best for a child to be in a two parent household. But, slowly I realized that if I am adopting a  child from foster care I am giving them a second chance at a family. And they might be coming from a two parent household that was detrimental for them. Plus, I have the support of my parents, who will be a great influence for the child. And, maybe someday, I will find Mr. Right who thinks it’s pretty dam cool that I am a single mother through adoption.

Men are not high on my priority list right now. I did try the online thing for a little while, but all I ever found were freaks, weirdoes, and nut jobs. Even the nice ones were not my cup of tea. It took me awhile to realize that I was not over Flaco enough to invest in another relationship. Flaco, that topic is a huge bundle of stinkin’ hot mess. Very recently, I have made the decision that I need to cut all ties. Forget asking him to financially help cover some of the debt he helped to create. Forget trying to be “friends” or anything else. It only took me 7 months of his bullshit, but I finally realized – I am better off without him around. He is a noose around the neck of my future. He is the albatross dragging me down and holding me back. He has made his decision and now I have made mine. Adios Muchacho. I don’t need or want you anymore. Take your narcissistic shit to someone who cares, because she ain’t me. If nothing else, this difficult year has taught me that I am stronger than I thought I was. I’m scary strong. Wo-man of steel strong. So, things might be tough right now, but I will come out on top. Better days are ahead of me, that is for sure. And, if God decides to send some nice, kind, hard-working, tall dark and handsome my way, well all the better. But, this mountain sure as hell ain’t going to Mohammad.

There are still times when I get those old pangs of sadness about being infertile. Four babies were born at church within a 6 week period late this summer – and it’s a small church, no more than 30 people attending on an average Sunday. Via Facebook, I have been subjected to the pre-birth count-down replete with groans of pregnancy discomforts followed by plethora of photos, crush of well-wishes and declarations of “such a beautiful family” of 5 more births (well, one is just about ready to give birth). The best way I can describe how I deal, is that I shove it down deep and tell myself, “it has nothing to do with you.” For whatever reason, Flaco and I were not meant to have a baby together. As much as it hurts to say that and believe that, it is something I must say and believe. Perhaps, someday soon I will view it as a blessing. And I tell myself, I can still be a mother. Stretch marks and leaking breasts alone don’t make you a mother. The best I can do right now is ignore it. Ignore the burning in my stomach when I learn of a newly pregnant woman. Ignore the tears that sting my eyes when a new birth is touted so joyously in front of me. My path is a different one. But, God has given me the strength and grace to walk this path. And I believe in my heart-of-hearts that I will soon be a mother.

Once I get a little break from my current foster child, I will call up my case worker at CHOR and let her know I would like to be considered for legal risk and children available for adoption, the younger the better. I’m hoping to have a new placement before the holiday season – I think it will be easier to get through the holidays if I am doing it for a young child. Children have the power to bring out the magic in the holiday season. It’s time to move out of this land of misery. I am ready to leave behind the time of trial and tribulation. I am ready to live an abundant life, over flowing with joy.     

Doing it Alone

I have been thinking a lot about what a fellow blogger commented in regards to my last post. She wondered if I considered parenting on my own, as a single mother. I was very willing to do that when I had the baby and Flaco left. In fact, I was doing that for the majority of the time I had the precious little one with me. When I decided I wanted to continue with CHOR I explained it to my case worker like this: "I want to do foster care and open my home to a child in need. I am not opposed to adoption and I am not closing the door on adoption, if the right circumstances become available I would be willing to explore that option."  I wanted it to be known that I was not seeking adoption at this point, per se, but I would also not object if such a situation presented itself. I would leave all that timing and whatnot up to The Big Guy Upstairs. It’s not any easy thing to do, to let go of the control. After the therapist finally wrote the letter stating I was not crazy and would be a good foster mom, it was a mere 10 days before CHOR called me with a referral resulting in the child living with me now. I had already decided, baring any major health or behavioral issues, I would be willing to take nearly any child. I had told them I would be willing to take a child as old as 6 or 7 but ended up with  a ‘tween which is fine with me as well.

This week I was talking with my friend who recently adopted a child through CHOR and she asked if I was concerned that by having this child with me I would miss out on the opportunity to adopt a toddler or a baby. She believed this was still my intent in the foster care process. I told her that I was content being a foster mother because I needed to see if I could “do this;” be a single mother. Am I worried about losing a placement for a younger child? No. The child I have now needs a place to stay. She is supposed to be with me, for some reason. She has things to teach me about being a mom. At least this is what I choose to believe. I don’t know how long I will have her with me, it has been mentioned a few times that she would be with me for some time. And that is ok. If there is a child meant to be mine, he/she will find his/her way to me.

So, the question of me forging ahead into single motherhood is something up in the air at the moment. I don’t have the financial means to pursue impregnation via IVF and I don’t know that I would want to do that all by myself. I don’t know, I might re-consider this in a few more years when the ticking clock becomes unbearable. At this point, I think I would be much more likely to adopt a child in foster care. But, I do have some qualms about that as well. Mostly, I wonder if this is just pure selfishness on my part. Being a single mother is not easy, not for the mother and not for the child. When all the work falls upon one parent, it makes it much harder to enjoy other things. Right now, I feel like after we get home around 5 pm, have dinner and I try to get one or two tasks done around the house, there is simply not enough time for just hanging out or doing something special. Generally, I try to make up for it during the weekends, but some activities (like power washing and re-painting my back porch) cannot be completed during the week and must get done on the weekends. Wouldn’t it be better for a child to be in a two parent household, where the workload can be shared and the child can get more one-on-one attention? And I don’t say this to judge the many wonderful single mothers. I have some friends who are single mothers and their children are beautiful, well-adjusted, well-behaved, and doing just great. I am judging myself. And, really, my idea was never to be a single mother. I wanted the whole package; the husband, the house, the kids, the dog, mini van, pony, white picket fence – the whole enchilada! So, I just don’t know.

My therapist asked me yesterday if I am actively trying to date. I told him I was and now I am not. Maybe I was simply trying to fill in the hole that Flaco left in my heart and in my life, I don’t know. I jumped on the on-line dating bandwagon and allowed myself to get set up or meet other guys. All for naught. In my mind it felt like a bizarre game show.  A guy would show up one way or another and very quickly I would find some unbearable flaw and hit the buzzer, dropping him through the trap door. Next! Some would stick around for awhile and I would try, but none of it felt right. I had someone offer to set me up with a guy she works with and she says he is “so nice.” I declined at the moment, citing the foster child in my care as a reason. I discovered that I am actually grateful to have a valid reason to not be out there dating. I don’t think I have the stomach to wade through all the crazies and not-for-me kinda guys. Maybe this too is me finally letting God take over – Jesus take the wheel! I suppose, if I am meant to be with someone, God will put us in each other’s way and it will be a positive interaction, balanced and simple. If there is a guy out there who wants to stick around and get to know the fabulous person I am, then I guess it will be meant to be. At the moment, I have finally erected some walls and hurdles for anyone wishing to date me to surmount. I have had several offers for friends with benefits arrangments, which makes my stomach churn worse than the Metformin..... I know I might not have the highest self-esteem some times, but I truly think I am worth a whole lot more than that! And I deserve more than that! Friends with benefits - who benefits? Certainly not me...... So, no boys for me. Right now, they all have cooties.....

Why am I doing this?

Why am I doing this? A question I have asked myself quite a lot lately. Dealing with behavioral issues as a single foster parent has proven exhausting; especially when simultaneously dealing with a nasty sinus infection. Rubbing elbows with other foster families has been good, but a mixed bag in terms of encouragement. One previous baby-sitter, whom I considered a friend, turned out to be a back-stabber; another current baby-sitter thinks a working foster mom is an oxymoron. She thinks working defeats the purpose, since the money I get as a stipend for having a child in my house, gets eaten up by childcare costs (chunks of my money go to the foster parent who baby-sits while I work). I’m not in it for the money. But, to be fair, I can understand someone being perplexed by a single, 30 year old woman deciding to take on an unruly ‘tween who is not her own. I struggle to answer this question when posed because I realize it only makes sense if you understand the heart-wrenching story of the previous foster child and destruction of my marriage. I choose not to tell this story. I offer up some hippy, over-saccharine reason like giving a hurting kid a safe and loving home. But, this is also the truth. I mean, other than the fact that it satisfies my need to mother someone, being a foster mom is about doing something –even if it’s for one kid – to help a child in a nasty situation. I adamantly believe every childhood should be happy. And I only realize as an adult just how dam lucky I am. My childhood seems like a fable compared to the things I hear happening to other innocent little lives out in the big nasty world. My parents loved me and my siblings and they were as fair as they could be in our up-bringing. I had loving grandparents who spoiled us just enough, but also taught us to have a strong work ethic, be honest, and kind to others. Summers were full of berry picking, slogging through the crick in search of tadpoles, traipsing through the woods building forts and swinging from vines, and eating ice cream sandwiches on Nana’s front porch after racing our bikes up and down the dirt lane. Idyllic really. And, as a child should, I took it all for granted. Now, I see the heartache and heart break of children who have never experienced lazy summer days at the local pool, sipping on the juice boxes Mom packed and learning to jump off the high-dive; children who didn’t look forward to a family vacation to Lewis Beach, Delaware, or going fishing with cheese stuck on safety pins, or shucking fresh picked sweet corn for dinner. I may not have a lot to offer a child. By no means am I wealthy financially. But, I have a lot of love to give a hurting child. And, in small measures, I can offer a summer like the ones I had growing up, riding on the back of a tractor picking rocks out of the newly plowed field, sun bleaching our hair, reading books under the shade of our big pine tree. Is it a little crazy for someone like me to take on some of the issues these kids face, alone? Maybe. But, perhaps all they need is that one person to truly, genuinely care. When I hear in the news about children being abused or neglected (Sandusky anyone?), it makes me sick. I can’t sweep those children up in a big bear hug and make it all go away, but I can give this one child a chance to understand that life is not always about pain and that it’s ok to be a kid right now. And I hope that it will help in some small measure, but even if it doesn’t, I know that I did what I could to effect change in a bad situation. And, even if they reject it, any child living with me will be loved. So, why am I doing this? Why not? I need to take the focus off of me and my recent pain. And while having a child might complicate “dating” who cares? Slowly, I am starting to give up on the dream I had of a “typical” family of me and a husband and a handful of kids. For whatever reason, I’m thinking this was simply not meant to be for me. For three years I cried, begged, cajoled, berated, wished, and prayed for a baby of my own. The dream died a slow and painful death. Now, I am free, as a friend put it, to re-invent myself in my 30’s. I’m not sure what the new and improved me 2.0 will be like, but I do know I want to help others, especially children, to stop hurting. I’ve considered mission work both short-term and long-term or getting involved with some NGO’s overseas or non-profits locally. I simply don’t know what the future holds. While I am not shutting the door entirely, I have this nagging feeling that my life does not include the things of my dreams – more and more I am seeing myself as a single woman just out there helping other people. Who knows, my world view might change again soon, but for now this is it….. I know I posted about guys I met previously, but things didn’t work out. One never seemed able to make getting together a priority, the other is still with his girlfriend (despite his claims not to be) and really only wanted to be friends with benefits. And on-line dating is just not for me. I’ve met guys who think its ok to jam their tongue down your throat on the first date, who think they should move in after texting for a few months and meeting one, who make overt sexually advances in the course of the first conversation, and who are so needy, they need a text message sent to them every two minutes to be assured you aren’t mad at them…… I think I have a better chance spotting crazy in-person….. My standards might be too high this go-round and therefore it just seems easier to resign myself to a different kind of life. My brave new world……. 

Does This Make Me Crazy?

Does it make me totally self-unaware that I cannot fathom why I do the things I do….? It’s almost like I am split in two at this point. I am the same-old responsible goodie-two-shoes I have always been for 99% of the time. But, then sometimes a naughtier me takes over. And I kinda like her, but I am also afraid to like her. Last Wednesday I met Samuel (names have been changed to protect the innocent….). I wrote a post about meeting up with him beforehand, but I never posted it (see below). Let’s just say that the initial evening was very nice and then things ended in a way my responsible self is less than pleased with….. Then the next day I got a foster child and everything changed for me. Now, tonight Roland is supposed to come over for dinner but Flaco is in the hospital after a stupid Memorial Day stunt, so all plans are up in the air. Everything else in my life seems rather neat and tidy, except when it comes to the male of our species. And here is where I cannot figure myself out. I am not stupid. I know I deserve the best when it comes to relationships. I deserve to be treated kindly and with respect. I demand that of any friend and would not be friends with someone who isn’t respectful or kind. Flaco is not and has not always been kind nor respectful. And yet I am entangled with him in such a way I sometimes I feel like I will never get out…. And I screwed things up with Samuel (at least I am certain I have) not to mention the fact that there is a Samuel/Roland issue to begin with…. I am feeling like a nunnery in some god forsaken tundra might be in order. I guess I have a lot of fodder for my next therapy session……

5/23 –

I am very excited to see Samuel tonight. When we set up our meeting via Facebook Monday night, he asked me to text him and remind him because he tends to be forgetful. So, at lunch today I sent him the friendly reminder. He responded that he had not forgotten and planned to be there. There, being Dunkin Donuts near my place. I am excited to see Samuel in a way I haven’t been for any of the other outings I have been on in the past few months. Previously, I felt like going out was a chore. Get dressed nice, ugh! Drive to meet somewhere, bleck! Chit-chat and find things to talk about, eh. Be friendly and be myself, but not too gregarious to give them “other” ideas, must I? My heart wasn’t in it for sure. But, now? My heart feels light and well, happy. It is strange. I don’t know why it is different with Samuel. Right now, I don’t want to question it too much because my heart has not felt light like this in a long time. Certainly not since February. Why must I over-analyze everything?

At lunch today at work, I was telling a friend about Samuel. We were speaking in Spanish so other co-workers couldn’t understand us (rude, I guess but I don’t need everyone knowing my business). She was so excited when I told her about Samuel being from Argentina. My friend is from Mexico and she is married to an American man. Her son’s name is actually Samuel’s real name, so she told me this made her like him already! Anyway, she thinks Argentinean men are the sexiest and have the sexiest accent. I told her I wasn’t really crazy about the Argentinean accent (in my opinion, it sounds too much like Spain Spanish with the lisp and slurring, which I don’t like), and she wacked me on the arm and said I was totally crazy. Her excitement bolstered my own and so now I am practically bubbling over with it! I’m still at work as I type this, but I don’t plan on posting anything until after our outing. I guess it is a good thing to have something to look forward to, something new and exciting.

But, at the same time I am nervous. I am on the cusp of cutting things off with Roland and I worry that if Samuel does not turn out to be the kind of man I think he is, then I might have lost out on an opportunity for something with someone genuine. But, at the same time, I am chafing at the slowness and the lack of excitement in my relationship (I use this word lightly) with Roland. I think I am a lot more spontaneous than he is and more lively, which is strange since he is in a band….. I need someone to run with, to seek adventures, and jump into things together. Roland seems more cautious than I am, which is not a bad thing, but it does tend to bring out my more brash side. I want to do something crazy to shake him up a bit and that isn’t great. With Samuel, I feel like we would be tit-for-tat, one equally egging on the other. And not in a bad peer-pressure kind of way, but in a lets-go-see-the-world kind of way. I don’t know how to explain it. Someone tell me I am not losing my mind altogether!

In other news, I got a call from CHOR yesterday about a potential referral. Given past issues, I am sorry to say this is all I will mention about the subject. I was pleased to get a call a week after handing in the letter, but they have not called back today to confirm I will be getting the child, so I am assuming something else has occurred. I realize that things might change if I become a foster mother again – it won’t be so easy to pop out for some coffee – but, that might be a good thing given my propensity for insanity at this point.

I have been thinking about timing lately. Am I jumping into things too soon? Who is to say what is too soon? Flaco has been gone for well over 3 months now. In the grand scheme of things, that is not a long time. It is a mere fraction of the time we were together. But, I am not one who likes to sit and dwell on things, especially unsavory things. I would rather jump back on the horse, even if that means I am more likely to fall again and soon. I try to look at the hot mess I call my life from an outsiders perspective and I think I would be of the opinion that this chick is rushing into things. But, I know me. And I know that if I don’t move on, I will keep letting Flaco come back and use me. If I don’t have the barrier of other interests between us, Flaco will just assume he can come around whenever he likes. And, I remember that he has already done his share of screwing around, mere weeks after he left, so I’m moving like molasses compared to him…… Not that I want to be compared to him….. Plus, other than disgusting Carlos shoving his disgusting tongue down my throat, I have not even kissed another man since Flaco. I haven’t held anyone’s hand, I haven’t wrapped my arms around another man, nothing. I know I am not ready for any of that quite yet. So, I am going to cut myself a break. I’m going to let go for now and just be. I am going to live in the moment, not worry about what this moment will lead to or not lead to or what might happen after that….. And, this whole Samuel thing feels a little serendipitous to me. What are the odds that this person who I met briefly in church over 2 years ago would come into my job and remember me not long after my marriage dissolved and his relationship ended? Could this be a divine chance encounter? I guess the only way to find out is to drink some coffee and charlar…..  

This would be funny, if it weren't happening to me.....

I am in trouble. I have been kind of seeing this guy, let’s call him Roland. Well, we have been out a grand total of three times. Each time we end up talking for many hours about random topics, but hardly ever about ourselves. Roland is kind and the perfect gentleman. We have not kissed or even held hands, so things are moving very slowly. I have not seen Roland in over two weeks. I like Roland as a person and as a friend. But, there are no sparks, no feelings of potential. My parents and some friends subscribe to the school of thought that this might be a good thing. It might take genuine feelings time to grow. And besides, Flaco hasn’t been gone that long, so I run the risk of having a rebound relationship if the feelings take over my mental facilities. I get that. And I think this is why I am still hanging in there for the time being. And this strange new reality was kosher with me. Until yesterday……

A few weeks ago at work there was someone who looked very familiar to me waiting at the front desk. During one of my many glances in his direction, he met my eyes. Recognition sparked and he asked, “Do I know you?” As it turned out, we used to go to church together at La Roca de Reading. And, most recently, we met at my friend Elizabeth’s wedding reception in October. We spoke for a few minutes, enough for him to tell me about his impending missions trip to Guatemala and to ask about my current status (unattached). I gave him a business card, in case he had questions about registering with our office, thinking I would never hear from him again. Last week he emailed me and I was only able to respond to the email yesterday. He called and then came in to see me in the afternoon. We had a nice discussion both professional and personal and I even helped explain program options to his mother in Spanish. Samuel is originally from Argentina, but he speaks English fluently. His mother’s Argentinean accent was somewhat hard for me to understand, but I made do. Anyway, as we are conversing, Samuel gave me his cell number and invited me out to coffee. I gave him my number and said that would be nice. You see, there were some sparks, there was something that is so lacking with Roland. So, Samuel text me last night and we also ended up messaging back and forth on Facebook. We agreed to have coffee tomorrow after work.

And here is the trouble. Yesterday, Roland revealed to me he suffers from bouts of depression as a way of explaining his absence in the past two weeks. I feel bad, knowing that he is dealing with this nasty inner demon. But, I am also feeling a little frustrated. Flaco never spent enough quality time with me and I hated that. I do not want the same thing all over again, even if the reason is different this time. If I am honest with myself, I am much more interested in Samuel. But, this also has me worried. Because it kind of reminds me of how things began with Flaco – sparks and flames and well, you get the picture. And the Good Lord knows I do not need another Flaco in my life. I am more cautious now, which is a good thing. I don’t want to hurt anyone, least of all myself. A friend of mine suggested I just play the field a little bit right now, have some fun and forget about serious things like feelings. Eh, but that’s just not me. That is not appealing to me and I know I would hate it in the end and probably end up hating myself as well. I am not saying I want to run into anything serious either. What I am saying is I want “it” to be easy at this point. Being with Roland is not really easy and I am not 100% sure why that is. To me, Samuel is more exciting, he is more refreshing to be around (at least in the few times I have been in his presence). Roland is too much of a conundrum for me, too swirly and somewhat morose. So, I am getting coffee with Samuel and we shall see where things go.

You know, I just re-read that last part and for all my protestations of not wanting to play the field, that sure seems like what I am doing. I am beginning to worry that I will never again find contentment in a relationship for fear it too will fail and I will have to endure another separation. Then too, I fear I am just jumping in for the sake of jumping in and very soon this house of cards will come toppling down around me. I sound like a nut, a hussy nut. I am certainly my own worst enemy and I hope I do not drive myself off the ledge……  

Back in the Game

Last night I attended a resource parent appreciation event at CHOR. It was a nice simple affair, to thank the foster families for all they do for the children in their care. It was strange for me to go alone, but thankfully my friend was there as was the former baby-sitter, so I knew two people. Consuelo was there, and was kind to me as always. It was a bit strange meeting the supervisor who had “the talk” with me, but I figured best to get out and let them see I’m not some damaged little weakling, rather than hide in shame. Unfortunately, I could not stay for the entire event because I had a therapy session. But, we had a nice meal and as I was leaving Consuelo gave me the cutest little planter, a certificate of appreciation (I wonder if that seemed incongruous to them?), and beautiful Sorreli earrings. Consuelo also asked about the letter from my therapist. She told me they have been getting a lot of referrals and she would really like to see them place a child with me.

Last week Monday, I was out having dinner with a friend, and my cell phone rang. I have CHOR programmed into my phone and when I saw the name, my heart did a flip-flop, since I hadn’t heard from them in a long time. It was Consuelo and she wanted to know what was going on, if I was still planning on being a foster parent, since she had not yet received a letter from my therapist. I let her know I would get on it, that I had mentioned it to my therapist and he said he would write the letter and apparently had not. So, I called the office. I hate calling this office because it is impossible to get to speak to an actual person. Shouldn’t they try not to make anxious, up-tight people less anxious and up-tight? Anyway, the woman I spoke with suggested I leave a message for my therapist (his name is Greg) letting him know it was urgent. I did this and he called me at work last week, asking me to ask my case worker (Consuelo) what she wanted in the letter. He asked me to write a letter and bring it along to my next session, which was last night. He told me last night that he had no idea I was so adamant about being a foster mother. Despite my unfounded fear he would declare me unfit, he actually felt it would be good for me to be a foster parent. He said helping someone else is sometimes a therapeutic recommendation to help people grieving and dealing with difficulties in their lives. So, I have the letter to give to Consuelo which will put me back in the running as a foster parent. I am strangely excited.

I don’t really have much other news. Healing is rather boring, like watching paint dry or grass grow. Speaking of grass, I mowed mine for the first time since I moved into my house 5 ½ years ago. It was one of the only things Flaco would do without me telling him to do it. I guess he liked it. It doesn’t bother me, in fact I found it oddly empowering. It’s just one more thing I have conquered, at this point. 

The Most Awful Day of the Year

I f-ing hate mother's day. I wish I could hibernate through this whole dam weekend. That wouldn't be fair to my mother, so I put on a happy face and mutter through. I am in a funk today. I want to be busy little beaver cleaning my house, pulling weeds. I should be spending time with my sister who is visit from DC. But, instead I want to RAGE. I want to scream and cry and throw things. I don't know quite why. Perhaps, part of it is mother's day. Perhaps part of it is that my fourth wedding anniversary would have been Thursday (5/10). Some of it is my feeling of entrapment financially. I am very stuck here, in this house, with little finances to do a total make-over as I would very much like to do. And some of it is stems from this guy I am seeing. He's calling me his girlfriend. But, I haven't seen him in over a week. And we have only seen each other three times total and two of those times it was at my behest. I am waiting for him to think of something. I guess, he thought the first time he asked me out would be the only time..... I don't know. And, I know he is way more into me than I am into him. Don't get me wrong, I like him. But, I don't have any romantic feelings towards him. More than one friend has said that in the beginning perhaps that isn't as important. Feelings need time to grow. Well, it wasn't like that with Flaco. There was (and sometimes still is) an immediate magnetic attraction. Not love at first sight but something pretty dam close. I guess you could argue, "well, look where that got you." And to some extent you would be right. But, does that mean I will spend my life without that passion? That burning desire that makes you want that other person with every fibre of your being? I don't know. I just fucking hate things right now. I try hard not to hate my life at the present moment, because things could be so, so, so, so much worse in the grand scheme of things. But, here I sit on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Crying. Wishing I could have woken up in someones arms this morning. Wishing I could feel those feelings of romantic love again. Instead, I am here alone. Doing wash and trying to convince myself to get the house cleaned and the weeds pulled. Telling myself that things aren't that bad, they will get better, and I should be grateful for what I do have like my health and great friends and a loving family...... But, I can't stop sobbing. And feeling pretty dam sorry for myself. And hating myself for feeling sorry for myself. Told you I was in quite a funk..... I feel like I am suffocating. I feel like I have a tiny match to hold against the encroaching, all encompassing, looking darkness that threatens to gobble me up and whisk me away for good. I am standing at the precipice and losing all my ability to keep from tumbling down, down, down into oblivion. I put on a CD I made for myself with positive songs that remind me to hang on, this too shall pass. But, my evil mind keeps playing over the bad things, the things I cannot control, the things I don't like to think about right now. I don't know why today this all seems to overwhelm me. For a long time I was doing pretty good - no tears, not feeling sorry for myself, finding that girl power thing..... Not today. I am weak today. I could use as hug today. I want to climb back into bed and cry myself to sleep. I have been thinking this morning that I think I need to stop seeing this guy or any guy. Clearly, I don't have much to offer at the moment, Just confusion and sadness and brokenness. I need to find the woman I am all alone. The woman who is ok with being thirty and motherless and single. I need to find the happy me under all this shit. But, I fear she doesn't exist. I feel like all I wanted from life was to have a happy marriage and a happy family. And for some reason, that makes no sense to me, I don't get to have what I want. Not even a little bit. I used to think being an adult meant making decisions to get what you want. But, now I realize that being an adult means making decisions and never getting what you want. I don't think my steam of consciences makes sense anymore, so I will sign off. There are other up-dates, but they will have to wait. For now, I just need to try to breathe.......