Drawing A Line

Posted by Anonymous.

Today marks the anniversary of my sister’s death. Or it could be tomorrow. I’ve never really been sure. I can’t ask my mother.

There is no headstone. She is buried under a silver birch tree. I’m not sure I could find it.

My sister, elder by three years, died from leukaemia. I was nine. My own son is now the same age I was when she died. He seems so small. Nothing bad has ever happened to him. What will he be able to remember of his life today as I can of that time?

I remember the wheelchair. I remember the ghastly brown wig whose tight curls shone and gave off a crimplene-like static. She detested it. Not a single attempt made by the manufacturer to create something that would make her look like herself. Like a 12 year old child. We both wore our hair in bunches – mine blonde, hers brown. I remember a hospital bedside portrait session where they had to rouge her cheeks as they were as white as bone.

We went to see her in the children’s hospital every day, after school. How did we get there? My mum didn’t drive. Did we go on the bus, with my baby sister who was not yet three? Did we wait for my dad to get home at twenty past five on the dot and take us?

But then an aunt came to look after us and we didn’t have to go to the hospital as usual.

My parents came home.

‘How is she? I asked.

A look passed between them and my mother beckoned me over to sit on her knee.

‘She’s gone to rockin’ Jesus.’

‘You don’t have to go to school tomorrow if you don’t want to.’

I know I cried. But what did I do then? Did I go off and play? Did I eat my tea?

At school the next day, the teacher asked me to go the library to pick up a book. She had never done that before. I wasn’t book monitor. So I stood outside and listened at the door.

‘Now listen class. We’ve all got to be especially nice to A. Her sister died yesterday.’

When I came back in the room, Robin Bacon gave me his prized spy pen which had invisible ink at one end that you wrote with and then rubbed the other end and the words would magically appear and Jennifer Little gave me the best of her collection of scented rubbers.

I was sent away to stay with another aunt, uncle and three cousins who owned a farm. It was bliss. We spent all day riding horses - real and imaginary.

One day I noticed my aunt and uncle getting into their car, both wearing black and my aunt in an Ascot-sized black hat, instead of her usual plaid shirts and slacks. I suddenly put two and two together - they were off to my sister’s funeral. And I wasn’t going. Also, if they were going, who was looking after me?

When I came back from the farm I was furious.

Furious with my parents. Furious that I wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral. Or even asked if I wanted to. But it was different then. Children didn’t go to funerals. They were trying to protect you from your grief. How could they have coped with you there?

Years later I found the card that I wrote to go on the funeral wreath amongst my mother’s things. Words in my childlike handwriting with my best fountain pen. It was smudged from the rain. I have no recollection of writing it.

Furious that I never got to say goodbye. Because the last time I visited I had no idea it was to be the last time. I might have trilled it, out of earshot, skipping out to freedom. It was just another day at the hospital.

Furious that they didn’t tell me she was dying. They knew. The doctors had said and given some idea of time.

Furious that I didn’t spot any of the clues. I would wait every Thursday for my comic to come through the letterbox. One morning it came and I pounced on it. My Dad asked if he could take it to the hospital for K to read. ‘It’s mine. She can read it any time. She can read it after me.’ My Dad ran upstairs, making a strange choking noise. ‘You didn’t know. You were a child. You acted like a child.’

Furious with God. From innocently singing All Things Bright and Beautiful and Dear Lord and Father of Mankind and God is Love His the Care with its galloping chords at the beginning and then you have to hit the note to join in with the verse. I couldn’t sing any of them any more.

Furious with myself. Why didn’t I give her that stupid comic? I have never forgiven myself.

In therapy we are asked to draw a graph. The horizontal axis marks our years in age. The vertical axis marks our life events. ‘Plot along the line,’ says the counsellor. ‘It represents your happiness level.’ Some people’s dips violently when their parents divorce, some when they themselves divorce, whilst others soar at the same event. Some people’s go off the scale when they children, some do not. Some are on an even keel all along.

Mine begins high. The line then plummets at the age of nine.

What would have happened if she had never died? If my mother had not become severely depressed? If I had not spent the rest of my adolescence seething, feeling second best, walking in dead girl’s clothes, being told by my grandma who adored her first born grandchild with Minstrel coloured eyes ‘it should have been you’?

What would have happened to the line?

What is your line like?

The Reality Of The Affair, Redux

Posted by Anonymous. (Follow-up to The Reality Of The Affair.)

It's been nearly two and a half years since I wrote the post about "the reality of the affair." I just reread it and all the comments before gathering my thoughts to write this next one. I've often reflected in my mind back to the comments I received after that original post so I wanted to have a fresh look again. This one in particular made me giggle, "You're probably not that special." One of the more profound things I've learned in the last three plus years is what I'm worth.

I followed through and left my then husband about three months after that first post. He took it well but there were some moments that were harder than others. The best part about all of this is he has become a better person and a better father. Without me to pick up all his slack he has had to step up and has found that being a great dad is really his thing. He's had a couple of girlfriends but at the moment is just focusing on himself. We're friendly and I care deeply about him. He is the father of my children and I want him to find the happiness he deserves.

My kids are amazing. They never once asked if dad and I would be getting back together. They never once expressed any concern at all about their future. My ex and I have made it a priority to act like adults and to ensure that our children are secure and happy and know they are the most important thing. They have also seen both of us take this time and discover true happiness. I have instilled in them that they are worth everything and they deserve to be happy just like we all do. In discovering my own value I have taught my children to believe in theirs.

About the other man. He started counseling and began on his own journey of self-discovery. He began to seriously evaluate what it was he wanted and needed and where his own priorities were. We continued our relationship into the summer of 2008 at which point he began to wonder if he would be able to ever find the courage to battle the emotional drama that would come from leaving his wife. It was during that summer that I let him go to discover what it was he wanted and needed in his life. It was a very difficult thing to follow through with - but I knew it was the right thing. I knew he had to know for his own sanity for certain that he could either never be happy with her or without me. I kept in touch with him but we did not see each other for well over a year. That all changed this summer when he came to me a free man, self-assured and ready to pursue a life where he can be truly happy.

Those who've never experienced this will never understand that the road to get here was about courage and righting the wrong decisions we made when we were younger. There is no shame in changing your mind and although marriage ought to be for life, for many of us we made that commitment much too young to even know who we are or what we would want. We both went to individual counseling to determine what it was we wanted in our lives. We both have children who are happier now that we are happier. Marriage isn't something that can bind two people together in paper only. You have to connect emotionally and spiritually in order to make a marriage last forever.

As for the cute little catch phrases like "If he'll do it with you he'll do it to you" I don't worry about that at all. This was never about a cheap thrill. There was no 'fog' over the last four years. We've been through more reality than most couples ever see and we always come out stronger. When your relationship is born through commitment and motivation to be together NO MATTER WHAT then you know what you have and you are unwilling to lose it.

So just remember the next affair you hear about may not just be an asshole and a whore looking for something fun on the side. Sometimes you meet the perfect person at the imperfect time. Some people are worth it and some people are willing to do whatever it takes to be together.

Stolen

Posted by Anonymous.

When I was 16, I was anally date raped. Before this, I had only kissed one boy. I was naive to the ways of the sexual world. I still had my innocence. That innocence was stolen from me from a man who used vaseline to force himself into me.

That thievery led to my becoming involved with abusive men, not to mention the toll it took on me mentally, including suicide attempts. Eventually it led to my marrying a man in another state, at age 22, whom I met online and barely knew. He was into S&M he raped me both vaginally and anally. He was a good guy, until he got sexual. He even told me how his two previous relationships, along with other women whom he was just dating, ended because of the same reason, - his sexual deviancy.

He was in the military. When he deployed to Iraq, I found myself again. I was happy. I was the owner of my body once again. Dr. Phil once said "The only thing worse then being in a bad marriage for seven years, is being in a bad marriage for seven years and one day." That was my motto that helped me stay strong and I left him when he arrived back home 15 months later. But while he was gone I lived free and happy and spent his money. I didn't work, I simply had fun discovering ME. What made ME happy. What MY personality truly was.

I became pregnant soon after dating a new man. He was wonderful and sweet and kind and he turned into an asshole and I said I'll be damned if I suffered through bad relationships and a horrid marriage just to end up in another. I left him when I was 7 months pregnant. The scariest and hardest thing I've ever had to do, but the best decision for myself and my unborn child. I would not raise a child in an environment where a man thinks he can treat a woman anyway he wants.

I am now 32. I have a better sense of self and am constantly trying to improve my life, and learn more about me. I'm striving to make up for the years I lost for myself and for my daughter. I deserve happiness.

Roman Polanski is a criminal and needs to be punished for stealing a child's innocence and for stealing the life she would have had.

Dear Everyone: Please Stop

Posted by Anonymous

To my family and friends:

I’m grateful he means so much to you. I’m grateful for all you do for me. I’m so grateful I have all of you in my life. But you’re driving me crazy. Please stop thinking you know what’s best for me. Please stop ‘owning’ my son’s struggles. Please stop having the emotions I, myself, am not allowed, not strong enough, not weak enough to have. Please stop making it all about you and how you feel and how you think I should feel or deal or breathe or interact.

After his last surgery, many of you texted me that you had “tears of joy” because all went well. I was unable to have tears of anything (joy, relief, exhaustion) because I had to immediately move on to the next step for his recovery. I resent the fact I am unable to have emotions of my own because I’m constantly reassuring you everything will be okay, constantly explaining medical procedures to you, constantly trying to process your emotions so that I don’t even know what or how I feel.

On the flip side of that, I don’t necessarily want to share all of my feelings with you. I don’t want every conversation to be an in-depth look into how this is affecting me. If I’m upset, can’t it be because they were out of my favorite ice cream at the store? Do you have to automatically think the worst any time I do show a glimpse into how I feel? I have become guarded with my emotions because, most of the time, I haven’t had time to process how I feel in the current situation (see above) and because of those “personal” conversations you all want to have with me. Do you each think you will be the one to break through to me and show me the light on how I should feel dealing with all this? Do you honestly think there is a proper way to deal with any of this?

Stop telling me that I need to be on an antidepressant. It’s not making any of you happier and makes you even moodier than you were before. I am happy. I love my life. Just because you can’t wrap your head around being happy with a special needs child does not mean it’s impossible. I would not change one thing about the last 2 years. They have made me stronger and more appreciative of the little things than I ever would have imagined I could be.

Stop trying to get us involved. I have a four year-old and a two year-old. I’m constantly taking them to school, doctors’ appointments, therapy sessions, and meetings with social workers. The phone calls I make on a daily basis just to get the correct supplies to help my son live would make your head swirl. I have social outings with many of you. I have a wonderful husband I love to spend time with. Just because I don’t want to be involved in the latest community fundraiser or go listen to the “expert on child rearing” I don’t agree with doesn’t mean I’m holed up in depression. Just because I don’t want my four year-old involved in group sports right now doesn’t mean he will be scarred socially and resent his brother for having a medical condition. He’s four. I’m busy. We’re great.

I know you are affected by this and you are invested in this and you love me and my family. I appreciate how you try to show your love and support but please step back and try to see that we’re normal and trying to live our lives as normally as possible. Normal is living life. Normal isn’t medical stuff 24/7. He is a child first, a medical mystery second. He’s a normal child with an abnormal system. He’s part of us and we’re a normal family.

I love you all. I don’t know how I would have made it without your support. I love laughing with all of you. I love being with all of you. Thank you for enriching all of our lives.

Your daughter, sister, grand-daughter, sister-in-law, friend.

Solutions Needed (Please Help)

Posted by Anonymous.

Solutions needed

1. living and being supported by in-laws

2. while husband lives in another state with friends

3. to be near clients

4. no vehicles in either of our names

5. four children, 9 and under

6. virtually no income currently

7. it's been since January 2009

8. cannot move to in-laws town (officially, anyway)--we have absolutely no “warm market” here to support our business (in fact, all family has outright refused to give us any leads—they're not comfortable referring friends to us; you know, because we're family).

9. I have the background to do a preschool/daycare

10. but, as we're living in someone else's home, I'm trying not to make to many waves.

11. Would state aid take my in-laws income into account, if we applied, since we live with them?

12. The state is UT

Help!

Orphan

Posted by Anonymous.

I feel like an orphan

It started slowly. Somehow the experience of my having children pushed us further apart instead of bringing us together. When I struggled for two years with infertility, you repeatedly told me it must be God's will for me not to have children. But when I got pregnant, you were ecstatic. And then came the sonogram that the baby would be a boy and some of the air went out of your enthusiasm. Still you ran out to buy one of everything to setup for the baby at your house, even though you lived two hours away and we’d never spent a night at your house in my entire married life. And you came when he was born, camping out at our house for two days while I was in the hospital. But you couldn’t respect my choices when they were different from yours. When I struggled with breastfeeding you urged me not to waste my time since you had fed me formula. When my husband decided to go back to school and stay home with our baby, you belittled our choice and his efforts. You destroyed your relationship with my mother-in-law, a woman you’ve called a friend for over twenty years, because anytime you ended up at an event together you had to hog the grandson and pretend he loved you best. You put on a huge phony act about being the world’s greatest grandma when others were around and when left alone, you observed your grandson playing from your chair, rather than deign to interact with him. You stopped calling to check in on me and when I would call to check in on you, our conversations were never more than five minutes before you were trying to get off the phone. It got worse three years later when I told you I was pregnant again. Why would I want to have a second child? You did fine with one. And then you grew hopeful that this baby would be a girl. You became convinced. I still remember the flat tone in your voice when I called to tell you that there would be a second grandson and how quickly you got off the phone. At least you showed up when he was born.

But things have gone seriously downhill from there. When I had gallbladder surgery just five months after baby #2 was born, the woman who drove out in the middle of the night to pick me up from college when I got sick, spent the day packing to go on vacation. Granted it wasn’t emergency surgery, but scheduled a couple weeks ahead. I’m sorry the surgeon couldn’t do it when it was convenient for you, especially since your mother-in-law’s unexpected death (my grandma) had screwed you out of your scheduled vacation the previous year. So my mother-in-law showed up and watched my children and then brought us all home to her house a mile away from yours so that she could help my husband take care of me and the boys while you and dad drove an hour away on vacation and shopped in outlet malls for a week. So please understand why it angered me when you showed up for my husband’s emergency appendectomy the next year - taking precious time off of work – and made the whole day about you and how you almost died years ago when your appendix ruptured. Just what I needed to hear as my beloved was under the knife.Thank God he ended up being fine.

We had managed some repairs to our relationship and you had eagerly expressed a desire (without being asked) to take a week off of work when hubby and I started planning our two week overseas adventure for our ten year anniversary. I was delighted; things were finally turning around with us. I planned our childcare carefully, with mother-in-law taking the other week off to balance things out. And then four weeks out, after we’d paid the last of our non-refundable monies for the trip, you casually mentioned in a conversation that you wouldn’t be able to get out of work after all. In fact you would be unable to help babysit at all because you hadn’t put in for the time off from work and other folks had taken those days. Friends, neighbors and other relatives stepped in to help mother-in-law balance her job and our kids for the entire two weeks. When you heard my son mention to someone months later that he had stayed with mother-in-law while we were gone you quickly corrected him that you had helped out. I’m sorry that at five he forgot how you borrowed them two afternoons and fed them dinner once.

Then there was the phone call a couple of months ago when your sister died unexpectedly and you told your whole family that I’d be glad to officiate the funeral on a certain date without asking me. Nevermind that you scheduled her funeral for my birthday, it was four days before I was moving with two kids and both hubby and I were changing jobs. And when I had the gall to say no, that date didn’t work for me and offered up three other dates as alternatives (since she was being cremated), you tried all kinds of guilt and manipulation and crying before hanging up on me. And bless you for having father call me back later and pretend he cared before laying on more guilt. And that line about how ungrateful I am and how I would have dropped everything and done a funeral for husband’s family if they needed something was just the icing on the cake. My aunt wanted me to officiate at her funeral and would never have approved of your tactics, and I’m angry that you went ahead and held it without me, telling my cousins that I was too busy to be bothered. I do appreciate that you at least called to acknowledge my birthday and I know I sent a thank you for the birthday check I received in the mail.

Two weeks ago I needed surgery again, a biopsy to check for breast cancer, the disease you successfully fought off nine years ago. I was scared because I've had a lump before and know that our family history of cancer only heightens my risk. But this time I was smart. I decided not to get my hopes up that you would be there. I knew that you were already taking the week prior off of work to entertain company for your birthday and catch up on errands and dr visits. So we made plans to have mother-in-law show up and care for the grandchildren. When you politely inquired the night before if we needed you, we told you not to worry that we had everything under control. Imagine our surprise when you showed up at the hospital as we were leaving because you had called mother-in-law’s cellphone and realized she was in town. Sorry father let the cat out of the bag later - apparently you had arranged to take the day off of work and told them that you were coming to take care of me; yet you had intended to spend the day at home relaxing from all the company you had entertained the week before. I certainly didn't mean to ruin your day off. Mother-in-law went home after you showed up because she didn’t want to intrude. Only she didn’t realize that you would take off before I actually needed you. You sat around all day and watched me sleep and then packed up to go home leaving me groggy and nauseated alone with two kids after hubby had to go in to work for two hours. Since my surgery I have heard from you exactly one time when I called to tell you my pathology report was clear and I am fine.

Most days I feel like an orphan. I have no parents unless you need to whine about your life, or need me to do something or want to drag out your grandchildren for some special occasion to show off to your friends. You always lamented the relationship you had with your mother - a constant tug of war - and swore that you would never treat me like that, that you would be different. And you were right. You have become very different. You hardly bother with me at all.

Mimi

Posted by Anonymous.

Almost 1 year ago::::::::

I didn’t even know she was having surgery.

I get a phone call on my cell, on a normal selfishly involved night in my boyfriend’s parent’s basement where I live. It’s my stepmom telling me that my grandma, my Mimi, is in the hospital. She is not well. My stepmom doesn’t know if I should be on my way to the hospital, she doesn’t know what’s going on.

Rewind::::::::

Six months prior, Mimi had stents put in to help with blood flow. Rewind further and you will see that Mimi and Papa pretty much raised me for a while. Long story short, they were a definite constant in my life and in their 40+ years of marriage they still called each other “babe” and “hun” and wrapped their arm around one another and displayed nothing but true love as long as I have been around them. Even with my bio parents being divorced and re-married, this was more than they could provide and will stick with me more than my grandparent’s will both know.

Almost 1 year ago::::::::

I get the call from my stepmom. She tells me Mimi is in the hospital, she had stents put in today, (for the 2^nd time, the 1^st time I was aware of) and she’s not doing to well. I didn’t even know she was having surgery. Not wanting to scare me, they tell me they will call me when they get to the hospital.

Later::::::::

Another call. It’s my stepmom. They are at the hospital. Sometimes I replay how I answered the phone with a cheerful “hello”.

My stepmom says “……..Hello? ……. She’s dead, Carly.” She is crying. I can’t hear anything in the background.

My Mimi is dead.

I can’t accept it at first. I cry in my boyfriend’s parent’s basement. Everyone in his house can hear me.

He takes me to the hospital. For some reason, it hasn’t set in. I honestly believe she will still be alive when I get there.

But she isn’t.

She is bloated. And pale. And stiff.

It’s only been an hour since she passed.

I’ve never seen my grandpa cry. He cried so hard that night.

I watched my grandpa try to lay her arm back on the table. She was too stiff.

He kept saying how she was “so cold, she’s so cold.”

I wished I wasn’t there.

They asked if she was an organ donor. My Papa said, “I don’t want to donate her, I want her back.”

I cried harder.

It was time to sign the death certificate. I watched him try to find the courage to sign it.

His hand circled around the signature line. It was if he didn’t know how to write his own name.

Finally, he did. And so did my father. And so did I.

I can’t explain what happened after.

All I can think of is the time I didn’t spend and the time I did spend.

Time, in general.

It will be a year in October. A whole year.

I miss you so much, Mimi.

Home Is Where The Hotel Is?

Posted by Anonymous.

I live in Florida. My daughters live in Florida. My grandchildren live in Florida.

My mom and my sister and my extended childhood family live in Michigan.

I subscribe to several airline emails to watch for good deals on airline tickets from Florida to Michigan.

So when I saw $19 tickets in January for flights in May, I snapped them up.

You see, I think I'm doing a good thing to buy a ticket for each of us to come home to see you. It's not like I didn't just show up on your doorstep and say 'here we are!'. I told you in January that I was coming home for 4 days in May. I gave you plenty of notice.

In reality, the $19 tickets cost me considerably more than $19. I had to pay for seats to be assigned (times 7!) and to pay for luggage. Unfortunately I didn't know that when I bought the tickets.

We love being at your house. Hanging in the back yard. No schedules to keep, no place to go but across town to visit more family. A trip to the cemetery to pay respects that I can't pay the rest of the year.

And then, two weeks before we were going to be there, you dropped the bomb on me that we couldn't stay at your house. WHAT? We've always stayed at your house!!

You said we were too many, too noisy, too confusing, too many people for one bathroom. We were willing to sleep on the floor and the blow up bed and the couch. All of us have stayed there before and the bathroom was never an issue. Shoot, 3 of the kids don't even use the bathroom!

And mom said, "You can't expect to just come home and have accommodations."

Well for starters, five months notice does not qualify as 'just'. And well, yes, as a matter of fact, that's exactly what I expect.

Mom said we'd have to split up and stay different places. So .. what .. we farm out the three year old? The two year old? The baby? No. That doesn't work.

You said groceries were difficult and cooking and cleaning was too much. Since when? I have never come up there that I didn't go immediately to the grocery store and drop a hundred bucks on groceries. We help with the cooking. We help with the cleaning. Not a meal goes by that my hands are not in dishwater washing dishes.

I really don't get this. All of a sudden ... we're not welcome???

You see, I am paying out my hard earned money to bring the family home so you can see them and they can see you. To foster a relationship between you and them. So you can see your namesake for the first time. Because we love you. We only come home once a year. Four days out of one year. But, no, that was too much hassle for you.

So ......... we didn't. We flew into the airport, rented a car and drove around the state like tourists. We went to the water park and other places my family has never been to before because .... we always came to your house. We stayed in motels and ate in restaurants. Oh, and the motels, still 7 of us ....... and only one bathroom. And never any problems. And trust me ........ I paid dearly. I paid for the car, most of the hotel rooms, most of the meals because they are broke and barely getting by.

Then one of the aunts stepped up and said you can stay overnight at my house. So we took her up on that. We slept on the floor, the couch and a blow up bed. Nine people in that house with ......... you guessed it ....... only one bathroom. We offered to buy groceries and they said they wanted to cook us dinner. We all ate around the table and had a good time. They enjoyed getting to know our little ones, and we enjoyed our time with them.

Oh, we made it to your house for a few hours on the last afternoon. But by then, the damage was already done. We weren't comfortable with you ... and you weren't comfortable with us.

And we heard afterwards that you complained about us being in the state for so long and only getting to see us for a little while.

Well you know what? You can't have it both ways.

And now, occasionally, you say things about the 'next time we are home'. Don't count on it. I have no plans to do so. If we are going to take a family vacation and stay in motels and eat at restaurants, we'll be going someplace else next year.

In case you haven't figured it out ....... things have changed.

I suggest you subscribe to airline emails and start watching for a Michigan to Florida ticket. And you won't have to worry about accommodations .... because, unlike you, I would make room regardless of what it took. You'd have a place to sleep if I had to give you my bed. That's where we're different.

I'm glad we're different.

Expecting, Definitely

Posted by Anonymous (Anonymous of this post, which was submitted in August. What follows is her update on the decision she made, and where she is now.)

I'm not exactly single. I have a tiny Baby I'm carrying around wherever I go. I'm now two people. I have two hearts. Two brains. Two bouts of the hiccups at once. I'm never alone anymore.

I'm also not exactly single in that other sense, either. Baby's father (the one who got me into this blessed mess) and I are holding hands at the doctor's office and having dinner with his parents and mine. But I'm still living in my house (the one I bought nine months ago. In fact, I made the offer the day of our first date) while he lives 56 kilometers away. That's down a secondary highway, even further from the Capital than me.

I've always been independent to a fault, and I still find it hard to behave as if this isn't entirely my responsibility. I told him The News about six hours after I wrote that first post, and he smiled! Anyway, I'm not worried about him. While we're not living together or sharing bills, I'm sure this part of this new family will work itself out.

Baby, on the other hand, is a different story. Some anonymous writer commented on my last post, "Chances are better that you'll regret the baby you didn't have [more] than the one you did." This is precisely the thought I'm clinging to - rather, it's the truth I'm holding out for.

I've always wanted children. Babies! I figured that once I started, I would never want to stop having them. I love pregnant bellies and breastfeeding and carrying little squirmy toddlers and all of that. My biggest fear was, until now, that I might not be able to have children of my own. As prepared as I thought I was, nothing prepared me for actually being pregnant. Who knew stretch marks came on with such a vengeance? Who knew morning sickness felt like being carsick, ALL DAY. Who knew women often suffer from depression during pregnancy? Who knew the "glow" is nothing more than the facial manifestation of terror?

But I know if I just get though these next 5 and a half months, the reward will be worth it all. I'm trying my darnedest not to panic about money. Babies don't' cost much - it's the unnecessary paraphernalia that really adds up. Sure, I could afford it now, but maternity benefits are somewhat... lacking. But I'm trying not to panic - panic leads to tears and hyperventilating and sleepless nights. (As if the heavy breasts and multiple trips to the toilet aren't wrecking enough havoc.)

I haven't even thought about what people think. It's a small town, as I said. Not everyone knows everyone else, but a lot of people know me thanks to the nature of my job. It seems that babies transcend all that unwed-mother garbage. Everybody is just delighted at the prospect of a baby.

Obviously I decided to keep the baby. I didn't really have a choice - I wouldn't have made it through the two weeks I needed to get an abortion without falling in love with the tiny apple seed and planning the rest of our lives.

It's an adjustment, this getting used to life as a parent. Everything I wanted to do Some Day now comes with a pretty big string attached. Go back to school? Sure, but I'd have to move and pay the bills with a baby in tow. Hike the Long Range Mountains? Yes, but I'll have to wait til the baby is weaned and arrange for my parents to babysit for a week. Cycle across the country? As soon as Baby is old enough to ride with me. A second trip to China? As long as I go soon, before Baby turns 2 and I can't afford the airfare anymore. Speed skate at the 2014 Winter Olympics? That last one may be a tad ambitious. But it's a whole new world. I'm looking forward to it.

Dear Dad

Posted by Anonymous

Dear Dad,

You have changed and not for the better. I don't even recognize the person you have become. The loving father I once knew is no more. You are bitter and angry and I can't stand the way you are. I used to look up to you. You taught me so many life lessons that I have kept with me all these years. You told me once, after getting custody of me from my mother, that every person you meet is a role model. You can either choose to be like them or choose to be the opposite of them. You told me that so that I wouldn't hate my mother for everything she had done to me. You knew that she had problems and you wanted me to try to keep a relationship with her even though I was hurt. Even though you were angry with her you were still supportive of the relationship I was trying to have with her. You never fought with her when you had to be around her and you never said anything cross that could cause a problem.

So why the change? Why can't you do the same with your ex-wife Brandy? She was never as bad as my mother was, yet you can't put aside your differences with her to be there for your daughter Katie. Nobody is asking you to be friends with Brandy we just want you to tolerate her long enough to be there to support Katie during her pregnancy. The pregnancy that Katie was always told would never happen. The miracle baby that was never supposed to be. You are being so selfish and acting like a child. Why are you making everything about you? Shouldn't you be more focused on Katie? You have hurt her so much by telling her that you wont come to her baby shower if Brandy is there. We all know that Brandy is unpredictable and there is a big chance she won't make it. Yet you refuse to come even though there is only a slim chance of her showing up. You are asking your daughter to choose between her parents and that is wrong. She was looking forward to getting to share this with you and her little sister Lisa. And now you are saying you wont come which means that Lisa can't come either. So you are not only going to be childish and not come but you are also going to keep her sister away too? Do you really think that your problems with Brandy are worth that?

I have tried not to get too upset over all of this. I keep thinking you are going to change your mind and see how ridiculous you are being. Then you called Katie and told her that the only way you would come to the hospital when she has the baby is if she makes sure that Brandy isn't around when you are there. REALLY? You expect a woman in labor with her first child to keep tabs on her mother so that you will grace us with your presence at the birth of the only child Katie will probably ever have??? Is your hatred more important than being there? You put aside your hatred of my mother 4 years ago to be there when my son was born. Why can't you do that for Katie?

I guess I should have expected this from you. Its not like you have really been there for me and my son since he was born. You haven't seen him in two years and there is always some excuse. I have put myself out there plenty of times and tried to make plans with you but something is always more important. Did you forget that you had a daughter and a grandson? Or do you just not care enough to really try anymore? It hurts but I really don't care anymore. We don't need you. He has very supportive grandparents on his father's side. They may live closer but they still put more effort into seeing than you ever have.

And you know what, Katie doesn't need you either. She's hurt and I know she wants you to be there but in the end she doesn't need you. She doesn't need the added stress that you cause her and she doesn't need to spend this joyous time of her life worrying about you and your pettiness. She needs someone who can put aside whatever issues they may have to be there to support her no matter what. When Brandy stopped being a good mother for Katie I stepped in and now that you are proving to be inadequate I will yet again be there for her. At 23 years old, I shouldn't have to play the role of mother and father to my 21 year old sister but I will. I will be whatever she needs me to be because you once taught me to be the better role model. Maybe you should take your own advice before you miss out on one of the greatest moments in Katie's life.

Your very disappointed daughter.

Expecting, Maybe.

Posted by Anonymous.

I just found out I’m pregnant. I’m 25. I’m employed by a company that offers maternity benefits. I’m a homeowner.

I’m also single and broke. And I live in a very, very small town.

My doctor’s appointment is tomorrow morning, but the three home pregnancy sticks in my desk drawer – each proudly sporting their own pictorial interpretation of hCG – two bars, a plus sign and a thoughtfully bilingual “Pregnant/Enceinte,” – tell me what I’ve known since my nipples began begging for a cool cloth and my legs couldn’t shake that itchy-from-the-inside out feeling.

Five weeks, by my count.

Two more until I can hit up the Morgentaler clinic.

Maybe.

Because when I watched that first stick form one line, then two, it was all I could do to keep the smile off my face.

Her

Posted by Anonymous.


I have something on my mind that I need to get out. I need to share it for some odd reason. I started a blog of my own after my daughter was born as away to journal our experiences (it ended up being very therapeutic for me) but family members read the blog (okay, two family members) read the blog and I just could not mention this kind of thing there because it would get back to her.

Her. My mother. I really had thought that I put all of the feelings aside and forgave her a long time ago but with the birth of my daughter it drug them all back up and now it is super hard to forgive and forget. My guess is that having my daughter made me realize what it is to be a mother to a daughter and all the love and emotions I have makes it harder for me to forgive my mother for all the things she has done. If I love my daughter this much then shouldn’t all mothers? And if all mothers do then why did my mom do all the things that she has done?

So all the background stuff because like I said I need to tell someone and I need to not be judged. My mother had me when she was in her early 20’s and divorced my biological dad when I was two. I never had a relationship with him which is probably its own story. My mother has since been married four other times and in numerous…….NUMERIOUS relationships. Two of the men my mother has been involved with sexual molested me when I was under the age of five, I have seen men beat my mother up, I have seen my mom wasted out of her mind on various drugs and alcohol. I have seen and heard my mother in sexual relations. She once left me with “friends of the family” for over a year. I was scared to death to go to a baby sitter, afraid she would not ever pick us up.

When I was in the fourth grade my mother married her fourth husband. He is what I consider a normal guy and provided us a normal life, but my mother is anything but normal and could not stay past seven years. When she left, she left all of us. One day I came home and she was not there. No words, no explanation she was just gone. I think this might have been harder on my father because he was so caught off guard, he didn’t really have a clear idea of what our past had been. My sister and I, we were upset but more upset for our father who was devastated. I am calling him my father because he adopted us when they got married. Eventually I tracked her down but she did not want to talk about it, she acted as if everything was normal. I couldn’t take it, I stayed with my father and my younger sister went with my mother.

My sister. My baby sister is a mental case. Really. No other way to put it. She is better now but it took a lot of psychiatric help and drugs. After my mother left my father she moved away. My mother was not in my life for almost five years. She didn’t call, she didn’t write. I have no idea what was going on, I just kind of went on and thought it was probably for the better. But when she was in a bad spot, needed money and know one else would help her she contacted me. She called me out of the blue and I broke down crying. I had already forgiven her (thank you, Oprah) and was grateful to be in touch with her. Her response, “why are you crying, what’s wrong?”

That was about twelve years ago. Like I said I have forgiven her and had accepted her for what she is. She has stayed in the same city/town since then so I would see her occasionally when I would go back to see family members. She has even come to visit me three times in the state that I live in. It was nice. I mean we couldn’t talk about the past and there are never any questions asked because she only denies or withdrawals. It just didn’t seem worth it, so I too moved on.

When I was pregnant I was hoping my mom would be here. I think I was super duper hormonal and I really thought she was going to be here. She agreed and said she would get the time off. Yep, you guessed it none of it happened. She told me when she went to ask for the time off everybody had already asked for it and she couldn’t come when I was giving birth but would be up soon after. I had a rough time delivering and ended up back in the hospital one day after being released. I did not bother to call my mom but my grandmother had called checking up on us, found out and insisted that my mother get in a car and come help us. By the time I had gotten out of the hospital the second time she showed up, stayed two whole days and left. The two days she was here she talked non-stop to my sister and nephew on the phone.

Three months later, I am still on maternity leave and my hubby had training he was to do for three weeks in another state. At the same time my mother was on a cross country road trip. Two months after that, still on maternity leave my mom was on another vacation. I finally went to see the family for Thanksgiving and my mother could not be bothered to take time off of work. We spent time with her over dinner one day.

My mother has taken several trips and even as I write this, is taking a cross-country road trip. I found out through my aunt because I can not tell you the last time I have spoken to my mother on the phone.

I am mad. I am pissed. I am ashamed. I am even more upset that I am upset about this in the first place because the reality of it is, she has not changed. She has always been like this and I for some reason thought she would be different to her grand-daughter. She is not interested. I want her to be. I want to have a mom and I want my daughter to have my mom as a grand-daughter.

Understand that if I mention these feelings to her she probably won’t talk to me again. Although it seems like I won’t be loosing much I will be loosing the only mother I know. The only bit of mother I have, I will loose. I am just not sure if it is worth it. I guess what I need is some advice is to get over this, in a healthy way. I CANNOT let my daughter be affected by this.

Fancy, Don't Let Me Down

Posted by Anonymous.

I have lost patience....one to many times. I've had beyond enough of the disrespect, by friends and family alike. If it's not one thing it's another. It's a constant revolving door of useless unnecessary emotional roller coasting crap. I'm sick of the petty, pathetic, straight up rude comments and actions.

Your logic, completely astounds me. How is it ok to treat someone the way you treat me? All i ever tried to do was be kind. Yes a few times we had fights. If you can't get past it, then you really still are nothing but an adolescent, high school bitch. Learn how to let the fuck go. Seriously. Maybe you might ACTUALLY have more then one or two friends.

Yes i know, im bitchy, yes i know i can be just as bad, if not worse. News flash...ever thought it was because of that horrid attitude you exude anytime we're in the same room. I loathe going to your house. Learn how to clean. Honestly...it's simple. And having a child is absolutely no excuse. I've cleaned plenty of houses including my own with children around. With up to three at one point. The fact that they aren't my children has absolutely nothing to do with it. You have a seriously unruly, unhealthy child...and you're having another. Wow. Way to be irresponsible.
If a Doctor, tells you your child is underweight and therefore unhealthy... He's not giving you some random problems to choose from. It is NOT because he takes after your husband. He REALLY is underweight and unhealthy....because you don't feed him properly.... I've witnessed it many times. Too many times for my liking. Do you even brush his teeth? I've seen you do it once...so at least i know you do know HOW too.... Try doing it more often. It's your responsibility to make sure your child understands proper hygiene and general grooming. Enough about you.

Onto You. I could honestly hurt you. Literally rip you to pieces for not fighting for him. How dare you have the gull to have unprotected sex and keep him. Not the fact of keeping him. The fact of telling everyone you love him, he's precious, he's yours. THEN GET THE FUCK OFF YOUR LAZY, COWERING ASS AND FIGHT FOR HIM. Do you have any idea how much it KILLS me to watch someone who i know loves him, just sit there and not defend herself or him. To not do what you know in your gut you should do, what you NEED to do... What the FUCK is wrong with you!??!?! It's tearing me apart just talking to you, because i'm not supposed to know, how much more worse the situation is getting.

You are a complete idiot. You astonish me. Here i am on nearly two years of trying to conceive...and you won't even fight for yours. Can we say undeserving? I never thought i would see this day. EVER. I remember clearly the day you had him, the second he was put on your chest, the look in your eyes... Such a proud moment. Yes, your a mother, one of the most fantastic phenomenons in a humans lifetime. And your literally flushing it down the toilet, because of that bitch!? Because you didn't do the right thing from the start and get sole custody. Or even joint custody...either way you would never have been in this situation. Get yourself and him the fuck out of it for gods sake. Leave your waste of time job and find another one. It's doable...Find the fucking courage and WOMAN the fuck up. Enough about you.

Back to Me...Stop letting people into your life if they don't fucking deserve it. Stop trying with waste of time bitches. So what if a so called family member is doing everything possible to not have you in there child's life or theirs for that matter. Obviously, it's nothing but a toxic "relationship" anyway. There's ALWAYS something to be mad or upset about when it comes to them. Every time you come into contact with them, some sort of bullshit happens. Or something downright rude is said. Or something hurtful is done.

You are a strong woman. You have a wonderful husband, who yes, pisses you off on a regular basis, because hes a man and doesn't think to just do the damn dishes without being asked...FOR ONCE... But he loves you, and you love him. Be happy you have the wonderful family members and the wonderful friends, that do care about you and what you might have to say. Just be there for "unwilling to fight friend" like you always have. She will come to her senses like she always does. It is hard to be in the problem. It's harder to be outside, looking in, not being able to say a word. She knows your there, always has, always will. Because shes always been more of a sister then friend.

Leave the other ones where they belong, and where they want to be. Out of your life. It's not worth the annoyance, pain and frustration. It used to be. But it's not your fault. They know your right. And they hate you for it. No ones perfect. But the one is definitely far from it, and sadly thinks they are of the utmost importance....when you can barely feed the child you have, and cant remember which bill is due and when, because you lived off mommy and daddy until you moved in with hubby, and he for some reason thought it would get you to learn. He is definitely an idiot for putting you in charge, but then again that doesn't say much about him either. He's no better then you, i've got issues with him too...you have Dental, use it. Seriously...use it. And learn that a game is called a GAME for a reason.. EX: to have fun. ...he's just as big an idiot as you. Even more so for marrying you in the first place, you are a horrific disgraceful person. Lazy, disgusting, pathetic, irresponsible, uneducated, ignorant....gawd the list goes on.

I know im far from perfect. I can easily and openly admit that. But don't sit there judging me, when im clearly just that much better then you as a person in general. Attitude, bitchiness, snide remarks have nothing to do with it. Yes i have my lazy moments. But at least i can say i work, and omg...i come home and clean, and i still have time to visit people. Yep, even if i don't feel like it that day, i will. Because im that kind of person. At least i cook my husband dinners with the food WE bought with the food WE made. Instead of cooking while hes at work and not having any leftovers for him...EVER. How he puts up with your selfish bullshit, i have no idea.
I know i'm not gorgeous *believe me neither are you hunny* and i'm not skinnier then skinny, but im not obese *and neither are you* but i will NEVER put myself on a diet when pregnant because i want the perfect baby bump. Fuck seriously your thoughts and actions are revolting.

Me..stop spazzing on the cat..he just wants outside CONSTANTLY... in and out....all day... cant make up his mind...its not his fault. Hes just a cat!

Do what you've been telling yourself you want to do, what you need to do. Put the fucking Cigarettes down, and leave them there. Forever! There is no logical reason for you to keep fucking smoking. it's bad for your health, not just because of the toxins...because of your fucking asthma too you douche bag. You CAN AND WILL Quit.

Get yourself up earlier, and out fucking side more. There's this amazing thing called the SUN, out there. Check it out more then just on your way to work. Do the damn walks you've been wanting to do sooooooooooooooooooo badly for gawd knows how long. Geezzzzzzzeeeee lady, it's not that difficult. I know the scenery kinda blows, but you'll get the fuck over it if you want to work a little bit extra at losing some more weight. You've done decently enough so far...keep up before you freaking put it back on. plus some. gawd. You CAN AND WILL do it.

Nanna's Hell

Posted by Anonymous.

My grandmother is an abused woman.

At 65 years old, she has never been shopping alone. She is given an ‘allowance’ of twenty dollars per week, which she almost always uses to supplement the seventy-ish dollars per week she is given to purchase groceries for my grandfathers, herself, and my cousin (the lazy, unemployed 20-something mooch, though this is a rant for another day). My grandmother is treated like a child, and has been since the day she was married at 19 years old. My grandfather treats her so poorly, that his sister has actually gone as far as to suggest that my grandmother may be mentally handicapped. Nanna is belittled daily, criticised for her every action. "You dress like a slob, you dress too well, you’re a pig, the house isn’t clean enough (do it again!), you’re stupid, you’re worthless, you are nothing without me . . ." etc. My father has vivid memories of his mother being punched through walls, pushed down stairs, and being kicked until she simply would not get up. He remember her being forced to eat off of the floor because she failed to feed the grandfather’s dog in a ‘timely’ manner. I have a half dozen illegitimate aunts and uncles fathered by my grandfather to other women, over the years. The youngest is only a few years older than I am. He is an undeniably cruel, insensitive husband, and she is too far gone to see this.

That being said, 8 months ago, she finally worked up the courage to leave him after she caught him cheating on her in their bed.

Nanna packed her bags, and moved into my father’s house. Immediately, despite the restrictions put on us by the economic issues swirling about, my father began working on an addition to the house so that she would have her own space in our home, and so that she could feel like she wasn’t intruding on anyone else’s space. For the first time, she went grocery shopping alone, with her own money, and loved it. She went out in her own car, and got her dog groomed for the first time in over a year, and was so thrilled that she could do so without being belittled for spending money on ‘that damned mongrel’. She went to a counsellor, and hashed out all of the feelings she had been battling with for decades. Her friends and extended family called and told her how proud they were that she finally grew some courage. She was happy, blissfully so, and she had every damned right to be.

Yet some of my family didn’t see it this way.

Her other son and daughter began calling and emailing her daily, harassing her about leaving their father. They claimed she was being selfish, accused her of trying to tear the family apart. The grandfather’s sister called and condemned Nanna to hell, saying in no uncertain terms, that the only reason a woman would ever leave her husband was to be unfaithful, and that God would see her burn for what she had done. The grandfather himself called my father, and insisted he was only helping Nanna do ‘this’ because he was after his money. The grandfather claimed that my father ‘didn’t understand’ what it was like to crave sex so badly, and to have a wife who was ‘too busy cleaning’ to help him out (cleaning at his demand/ ‘or else’ threats might I point out).
Yet the rest of us stood by her. We reassured her, we continued to help her do the things she wanted to. She continued to see her counsellor. My aunt, furious that her attempts at guilting her mother were failing, began threatening to take away her children. She promised Nanna would never see them again.

Even so, Nanna persevered. I quickly became her confidante. She told me horrible things about my grandfather which will never let me look at him the same again. She told stories about my cousins, aunt and uncle which were unforgivable, and filled with cruelty. She cried about how hard it was to stay strong, knowing how many people were angry with her, but claimed that she could do it if she just had enough support.

The final straw however, came when the grandfather’s brother, the pastor, came into the picture. He assured Nanna that she would go to hell unless she reconciled with the man that treated her so poorly. He had the nerve to look her in the eye, and say the words ‘God will surely award you in Heaven for all the suffering you have been, and will go through.’

Two days after that conversation, she went home. And as selfish as it may sound, I was truly devastated.

Everyone who had supported her in leaving, were in uproar when she went back. She called the day after she’d gone home, and tried to act as if everything was normal. She wanted to pretend that the nine and a half weeks she had escaped him were some sort of terrible dream, and not reality. The grandfather shared this view obviously.

Which brings me to the reason for writing this. I am furious. I am so angry with both of them that I haven’t been able to articulate it before now. He is a lying, cheating bastard, who has committed terrible atrocities against someone so defenseless, and he makes me sick. She has destroyed any respect I have ever had for my entire extended family on my father’s side. She took every image I had of elders I adored, and cousins who were my friends, and ran them so far into the ground that I will never be able to feel any sort of bond with them ever again. And now, she wants me to pretend none of that ever happened, and to go on living like nothing ever happened. Bullshit!

I have not spoken to either of them since her delusional phone call all those months ago; I don’t trust myself to do so without saying things I know I will regret. I am hurt, I am angry, and I am just so disappointed in both of them. They are supposed to be people I can love and admire. They are supposed to be a soft place for me to land, people who I can go to for advice or comfort. Instead they are a walking freak show that is so self involved that they cannot see how fucked up they truly are.

I overheard a phone call between she and my father a few weeks ago, where she asked about me. He told her that I was hurt and angry, and said he didn’t think I would want to talk to her. Her response? ‘She’s young, she’ll forget soon enough, and then we can get back to being a family again.’ I am 22 years old, and a grown woman God damn it! I am not going to forget what happened, and I sure as hell see no way that we can ever ‘get back to’ being a family ever again. I will not be sucked into their dysfunctional spiral, I will not put on my nice face and pretend everything is okay when it definitely isn’t. I won’t enable the grandfather’s abuse by turning a blind eye.

Even as I write this, I know how childish it must sound. Maybe I am overreacting. But how can I forgive the man who is slowly but surely killing my grandmother? How can I interact with people who are so happily abusing an elderly woman? How can I laugh with relatives who are so self involved that they harass an emotionally traumatized woman into returning to the abuse? And how can I sit and discuss the weather with Nanna, now that I know all of the deepest, darkest, most intimate details of her own personal hell? Am I being too self-centred? I just want all of it to feel right again, but I don’t know how it can.

Booby Trap

Posted by Anonymous.

My daughter is 11 years old. When she was born, she refused to nurse, would not, could not latch on. The nurses at the hospital threw up their hands, the first lactation consultant told me "it must feel terrible to have your own baby rejecting you", the second lactation consultant showed up forty eight minutes late, after telling me not to pump until she got there and not to feed my baby so that I was engorged and my daughter was starving and it was not a good day. I cried a lot back then. I cried and I told my husband that I wasn't worth of being a mother. Because I had never heard of a woman being unable to breastfeed her own child. That was unnatural. That was fucked up. It destroyed me for weeks. I pumped and I fingerfed my daughter through tubings but I was hollow. I'd never know such pain, at a time when I was supposed to be so happy. I made bargains with God. "Let me nurse," I pleaded. "Let me nurse and I'll cop to breast cancer in a decade." I meant the treatable, curable kind of cancer, of course, but really, I was out of my mind. It hurt so much. So much.

A parade of lactation consultants went through my house.

"Your nipples are inverted," one told me. "You should have been wearing nipple re-inverting shields throughout your pregnancy," she admonished.

"You definitely have enough milk. A nursing mother has enough milk to feed the Red Army." I didn't want to feed the Red Army. I wanted to feed my daughter.

I'm sure that I had a healthy dose of postpartum depression thrown in as well, but whenever I think back to that time, I catch my breath. Because it's been over 11 years. And the memory is still sharp.

Time To Say 'Enough'?

Posted by Anonymous.

I'm 29. Single mom. Have been seeing a guy for 3.5 years. He does not want to get married. Hes made that clear. I hate it. I think if he loves me as much as he says he does, it should be an option. If he loves my kids as much as he says he does, it should be a given. But its not. So, the more frustrated I get, the less I care about the relationship. Whatever happens, happens.

For, oh, 11-12 years, I've been at least a little bit in love with another guy. We had a clandestine affair when I was 18/19. He had a girlfriend, I dated other people. We lost touch. Next time we talked was about 3-4 years ago. He bought a membership to classmates.com just to find me. I was in a relationship. We talk off and on via the internet (gotta love FB & Myspace), phone, text, etc. Lately, we've been talking a LOT more. About everything... We are both in relationships. Neither of us is married. Neither of us is happy.

The talk turns to why we never pursued a serious relationship before. And how timing sucks now. And if we will ever be single at the same time (he says no, cuz then we'd be together and wouldn't be single).

I won't cheat. I got burned by it and will not get physical with someone else when I'm in a relationship. I know, the talk probably isn't appropriate either.

I'm almost to the point, though, where I want to just ixnay the current relationship and find out what could be. But, then I'm scared. Am I just throwing away what I have? Have I tried enough? Or am I right... have I done all I can do and it really is time to say enough is enough!

I don't know.... someone help????

Paycheck To Paycheck

Posted by Anonymous.

I am SO SICK AND TIRED of living paycheck to paycheck.

We try SOOOOO hard and nothing ever changes.

We've been reading the Total Money Makeover (Dave Ramsey) and are committed to starting the process but first we need to work ourselves out of this rut... even just a little bit... we need to free up just a little bit of money each week just to get started... But its always something.... now Corey's work is slowing down as they finish the City Center project and it's freaking me out...

I wish we had some family member or friend (a.k.a. NOT a bank or credit card company) that could/would lend us 5 or 10 thousand. Interest free, of course. Enough to get us TRULY caught up AND a little bit ahead AND in a position to clear up some of the items that make our credit look like crap. Enough that we'd be able to breath and not have to decide which bill should be late this month - the cable or the phone? Enough that we could not worry about catching up and instead be caught up and in a position to make our money work for us instead of the other way around. So that we can take 5 minutes to think about what we WANT to do with our money (responsibly, mind you) and not what we HAVE to do with it. So that for one whole day I don't freak out (even just a little in my own head) about the well-being of my children.

We're trying to make plans to move. We found somewhere to go that can save us $300 a month. But until October we're locked into a lease. We've been in touch with the property manager several times over the course of the last 2 weeks regarding what it would take/cost to break our lease but they keep putting us off. "Email your request." "We're waiting to hear from the homeowner." WHATEVER. IT'S YOUR FLIPPIN' JOB TO KNOW HOW LEASES WORK.

I just want a break.

I'm tired of stressing over it and inadvertently making Corey feel inadequate. I work, too. If ANYone is inadequate it's me. He's the bread-winner. But really I don't think that either of us are inadequate. LEAST OF ALL , COREY. I hate that he takes my frustrations and fears on as his responsibilty. He works SO hard, everyday in the hot hot hot sun of Las Vegas and in the middle of the night if they need him and on weekends if they need him.... he busts his butt and there is NO doubt in my mind that he does it all FOR US. FOR ME. FOR JOSH. FOR CHRISTIAN. He does NONE of it for himself.

We just can't catch a break.

Maybe I shouldn't have pushed for baby #2. But not even this kind of stress will EVER EVER EVER make me regret or second-guess my baby boy. My chunkabutt. My rolly polly. NOTHING. EVER.

I KNOW in my heart of hearts that we CAN do this ourselves. But I can't help but long for a miracle.... even if that miracle comes by in the shape of a loan that we have to repay.

Trapped

Posted by Anonymous.

I have a problem and I'm feeling trapped. To begin with, I'm 27 going on 28 this October and I got married at 19. I lived with my then husband from middle of senior year at high school. Now I'm not saying I'm a deadbeat and a high school drop-out. I continued to work hard and graduated from high school on time with high honors. I worked hard in college and graduated with both Associates and Bachelors in business administration while working full-time. I'm mature and very rational. I now have two kids, the first born 4 years after I married and graduated from college. I'm trying to think of the best way to describe my marriage, I consider my husband my best friend most of the time, we've been through a lot and we've worked incredibly hard to be where we are right now - a great job, two great kids, a nice home, etc. But! I secretly call this a 'marriage of convenience'. When we first met (he's 4 years older than me) I fell in love but he was my only and first and I thought it would 'get better' and thought it was me... It is awkward talking about our sex life because I have never told anyone that our sex life has sucked from the beginning. I feel that I got married too young and should've dated more & played the field. I look at other men that I could've dated and think 'what could have been' I've cheated on him briefly (only to 1st base and dating) when I went to college in another state for one semester but I went back to him and he proposed right away and I left college for him. I enrolled in college locally and went to college with him. We were joined at the hip. I still blame him (and he knows it) for making me leave that college. We have arguments and I always end up having to compromise with him. I've seriously considered divorce but I am a product of divorce and know how hard it is for single mothers and my husband would never let me take the kids or at least give me an hard time. I know he loves me, he worships the ground I walk on, he's good to me but I am simply not happy. I have a boring marriage and a boring sex life to the point I can't stand for him to touch me. I give in once in a while and tell myself that just to relax, maybe it'll be better, try new things, get the 'passion' back in the marriage, etc. There was a 'little' passion in the beginning of our relationship but it fizzled but we got along incredibly well and he was good to me. He is 'safe'.

I did not intend to make my history so long. Ok, my problem is that... I've met a guy I really like and I know he likes me. I've met guys before that I get along so well and begin to like and I play with the idea of cheating on my husband to see if the grass is greener on the other end but never did. This guy - I like, I've known him for few weeks. I get a strong feeling that he likes me but our lifestyles are so different. He is the 'bad boy persona' and I am trying to rationalize with myself that if in the chance we do get together, I can't hold him back and it would be wrong to enter a cheating relationship and we'd have to hide. We know the same people, he knows my husband and in fact, my husband is the one who hired him. He's a college student (older), scruffy guy, etc but wow - he looks like John Travolta. He's that handsome. His group is not the type of people I'd hang out with and I keep telling myself that eventually, I'd be trying to get him to change his wardrobe, change him, etc. I am seriously considering divorce in a few years when the kids go into school full-time so I can get a job and support the kids on my own. This guy and I get along incredibly well. He shows a lot of interest in me and I can't help but really like him and want to get to know him better but where do I draw the line? Do I get out of a good (and boring) marriage just so I can play and be free? What if my husband is really the guy but I've ruined it. I don't want to get a divorce by mistake and I'm feeling really confused and I absolutely can't talk to anyone about this, not even my friends because honestly, I'm incredibly embarrassed to have trapped myself into this situation with my husband and our personal life is embarrassing. I feel that nobody will understand where I am coming from and I'm afraid that my friends would gossip. I've mentioned a few of my feelings once in a while and I've mentioned divorce once in a while but I truly can't talk about this with my husband. Believe me, I've tried spicing things up in bed, etc but I feel absolutely dead inside - no passion, no feelings, etc.

Ok - I'm done - I could continue on forever. I'm a rational person but inside, I'm really not.

Dear Boyfriend

Posted by Anonymous.

Dear Boyfriend of 8 years,

I love you, really I do and I know you love me even if you do not express the words as much. We have been together for 8 years. We are respectively 29 and 30 I think it's time we tie the knot already. Come on, we have lived together forever! Your very best friend in the world is getting married in about a month, and when I mention don't you think we should follow suit, you tell me "I don't follow Suit I wear Suites", while I enjoy your humor, it did hurt a little. I seems that you don;t want to marry me.. we are practically married lets just jump into it already. I'm really ready for kids, you mention them but when I start saying I think it's time we start to think about a family of our own you say we have time.. Yes, but dear boy I want more then one..

And while we are at it, I know your music is important to you really I do. Who else would put up with you in the Computer room 85% of the time? I know you're working on your music and I used to get upset, not so much anymore as you have tried to give me more time, But still is it necessary for you to stay in there on a Saturday from 8am-8pm. I would love to see you sometime away from the computer.

I may not mind so much if you would do something with me that involves leaving the house every so often, I have fell in love with an antisocial man, I know this and I accept it to a certain point, I know crowds make you anxious and I try not to ask you to do things I know you would be miserable doing, but please just say yes to something I ask you to do with me..Want to go to a picnic with my cousins, who you still have not met and again we being together for 8 years, you really should have met them by now.. Nope ok.. Wanna go to the movies.. you say yes but always find a way to get out of it.How about we go next week..I agree and it never happens..

Also when you are mad at me for the love of god please tell me why. You just shut down and that is that, you may or may not talk to me for the rest of the day, and then when you get over it as you always do, I never know why you were upset to begin with. It;s just like it never happened..

I know I should be telling you all this to your face, but i'm a coward and I really don't want to ruin the great thing we have when your not in the computer room or not talking to me.. You really are good to me when you want to be and can be really sweet. But the sweetness lately has come few and far between.

I think you don't know how good you have it with me. No, I'm not perfect, I'm not the best house cleaner, I have my faults but I'm pretty damn easy to please and get along with. I am the most non demanding person on the face of the planet and I wish you would just wake up and see it sometimes.

Everyone that knows us say he has it so good with me. Including his Mother, but I don't think he see's it at this point.. I don't have to heart to break up with him just so he see's how much he has in me. But what else can I do.. I just need honest advise how to talk to him and tell him how I feel. I am the type of person that holds in everything! I hate confrontation and if I can avoid it I will. even if it is at the expense of my own happiness. I get nervous talking to big or even semi-big crowss.. i'm just a quiet person that tries to please everyone...I'm just afraid I'm going to say the wrong thing and ruin everything, because it's not all bad..there are really good times.

I've always been put last in people's "lists" my whole life: my mom, and now him, I just want someone to put me first... WOW this got long...

Thanks in advance for any suggestions or advice!

Can't Let Go

Posted by Anonymous.

Dear He Who Shall Not Be Named:

I've been in love with you for 11 years now. Twice you rejected me telling me it was too soon and you didn't want to hurt me, you just were not ready. I married and had children. And 7 years after I married you tell me you made a mistake. I told you I was going to leave my husband and you said you couldn't wait for me to be free so that you have this third and final chance. And truth be told I was on the fence about leaving but when you said that, despite what I've told you I will always know I left my husband for that chance with you.

Texts and emails and phone calls with wonderful words coming from your mouth that were everything I ever wanted to hear from you. You told me that you wanted to take on my children, that you didn't mind. You wanted this chance you needed this chance.

And then I told you that I kicked my husband out for good. That I was alone and waiting for you. And then you only called when you wanted to have sex. Telling me it was more than a booty call..but I knew better. Then when I got upset with you, you told me to back off a bit and we'd take it slow and you wanted to build a friendship first. So I did. And you called me again out of the blue and what did you want...sex.

I know better. I know that I mean nothing to you. I know this will never happen like I want it to. So why do I keep having sex with you? Because I have this hope that one day you will feel like I do and sex is the only way to keep you around to make that happen.

11 years my love, 11 years. Every day I'd look at my husband and wish he was you. I even secretly named my son after you. A reminder to me that my son would always be first in my life. And yet here I am unable to think of anything but you. It's killing me that you don't love me, but you know I love you and yet you continue to use me. But I can't let go. I can't. For I keep thinking of that small chance that you will love me one day, that I can have what I've been dreaming about for 11 years now.

So tonight when you come over, and during that brief time I feel whole, I hope you see it in my eyes and just let me go..cuz I can't, I am not strong enough to just let you go.

Asking For Help

Posted by Anonymous.

Things have been building for a while.

My husband has been battling some deep depression issues, work hasn't been going really well for him, and a hundred stupid things at home. And we're leaving for a 2 week trip tomorrow, which no one has packed for.

When we moved into the new apartment, we signed up with the only option for cable (until August, that is) RCN. RCN assigned us a home number that apparently belonged to a credit deadbeat. We get multiple phone calls a day for "Maureen" from creditors. Having filed for bankruptcy when I was 20, I know what creditor phone calls sound like. And having spent the last 10 years rebuilding my credit and paying a steep penanance for my idiocy at 18, I really don't appreciate creditor calls. Especially when they're not for me. Especially when they refuse to take the number off their call list because the person they're looking for doesn't live here. ESPECIALLY when Rent a Center flat out called me a liar and accused me of being this Maureen person who was just trying to get them to stop calling. We have been trying to fix this for almost 2 months. We even went so far as to re-hook up our Vonage line for several weeks to see if that would help. Nope. RCN in their infinite wisdom decided to make our number unlisted....because that totally helps when the people who are calling are creditors who ALREADY HAVE THE FUCKING NUMBER. Yesterday I spent 3 hours straightening the matter out with supervisors and managers. I have my "new number"

Or so I thought.

Because guess who I got a call for this morning. When I called my cell to check the number...it's still the old one.

So I was pretty cranky.

When the baby woke up, I was so excited because she drank six ounces of formula which was the most she'd ever eaten in a sitting. She had gotten up to 4 regularly and had drank 5 oz during her last 3 feedings yesterday. She burped and it all seemed okay. Except a half hour later she was sitting next to me, and picked up my cell phone. And a minute later made a face and before I even realized what had happened, she puked up a good 2 ounces...right onto my phone.

Of course my first reaction was to calm her, cuddle her, and get her out of her now soaked pj's.

Then I picked up my phone and wiped it off. When my friend called me about our plans this afternoon, I couldn't hear her...until I turned on the speaker phone. My ear speaker wasn't working...fuck. My husband took a look at my phone and then both speakers started giving off feedback. Dead. Not covered by warranty.

My phone is dead. Which is a $400 problem. I don't currently have $400.

I haven't been sleeping well, and what little sleep I have gotten hasn't been high quality.

The last week I've randomly been having dizzy spells where I feel like I'm going to pass out for no reason.

And I realize now that I just hadn't been taking my meds...any of them...allergy, antidepressants, vitamins at night in at least a week or two. Probably since the night that my husband kept me up until 4 am to sort out the flights for a vacation in August.

I don't know what it is or why, but the phone was the last straw.

My husband wouldn't listen to me when I tried to explain what was wrong with the phone and then told me it was fine. I ended up screaming at him until he understood what was wrong. I screamed at him so much that he just gave up and left for work.

Then the baby started crying.

It was like someone had taken a match to the straw.

Anger ripped through me. At her, at the world, at everything. I threw something into my bedside table drawer and slammed it. The alarm clock fell of my bedside table and I picked it up and began to bash my bedside table with it.

The baby cried louder.

I screamed at her to shut up.

For a second what I wanted to do wasn't to throw my alarm clock at the table, but to throw her.

It scared me shitless.

I picked her up, ran to the living room, put her in the pack n play, ran back to the bedroom and slammed the door. I picked up the phone and told my husband that I was a danger to the baby and to get home NOW. I then ran to the bathroom and shut that door. I curled up on the floor and sobbed. Not crying...gasping screaming keening sobbing.

I quickly catalogued all the ways I could hurt myself. To punish myself for almost hurting my 8 month old who had done nothing wrong.

I thought about leaving.

I thought about giving her up for adoption.

I thought about suicide.

I thought about hospitalizing myself.

I don't know how long it was until my husband came home. Probably only 5 or 10 minutes. He didn't see the baby in her pack n play so he found me and was clearly scared when he asked me where she was. He checked on her and reassured me that she was okay.

I couldn't look at him. I couldn't do anything but sob.

He asked me flat out if I needed to go to the Emergency Room. I said I didn't know.

He arranged for our daughter to spend a day with her grandparents.

I think the worst part of today is that I don't want to admit it to anyone I know. I have a therapist and a psychiatrist. I'm scared to tell them about this. I'm scared that it might involve DSS. That she might be taken away from me. That I might be hospitalized. I don't want my child to grow up with the mom in the mental institution. I don't want my husband to have to go through that either. I don't want to the relative that everyone talks about in hushed tones, like the former wife of one of my great uncles who committed suicide or the first wife of one of my husband's uncles who is a shameful family secret.

I don't want to raise my daughter to fear me because I'm unpredictable. I don't want her to cringe from me because she's scared I might hurt her. After all, I went through that with my own mother, who has serious depression but who has never sought help. When I complained, I was told just to deal with it and that 'it's just how she is."

Sometimes I wonder if I had any right to reproduce. To pass on my flawed genetic code.

I'm relieved that she's okay. But I haven't forgiven myself---I don't know that I ever can.

I have an appointment with my therapist and I will either force myself to tell her or re-evaluate our relationship. If I can't tell her things like this, then it's not the right therapist/patient mix. I took my meds today and will build back to the higher dosage.

It's frightening because now I can understand how women spiral out of control. How bad things happen to children at the hands of their mothers. How PPD or even just plain old depression can magnify and twist life's little problems into insurmountable anger filled hazes. How that anger can consume anyone who's unfortunate to be in your path.

I have recognized it. I can name it. Now I have to admit to it and ask for help.

That Which Does Not Kill You

Posted by Anonymous.

There's this thing in my head that I can't bring myself to talk about. Oh, I'll talk about the very big burden that sits on top of this thing, that everybody knows about. But nobody knows about the thing in my head. The thing is part of the bedrock of my mind. It is not a challenge to be overcome. It is something that is; something that has been there all along. Sometimes I can tap dance right over the top of it, completely disregarding it's existence. Sometimes I can steamroll it with a series of events and activities. But the last six months have torn away at the bedrock, flipped it over and exposed all kinds of things, gouging at the familiar landscape of my mind and completely changing my perceptions about myself.

But what to do with this thing? I am not a secretive person by nature. I like people to know what's going on with me. If I struggle, I don't mind people knowing that I struggle. If I'm happy, I like to share it. If I screwed up, chances are you'll hear it from me first (if I'm aware of it). But I don't know how to articulate this thing, and I don't want to know about it. But the longer I don't speak it, the larger it looms and the more distorted my perception of certain situations becomes.
For a year now I've been trying to write a thesis. I have not made much progress. This lack of progress makes me feel foolish, stupid, worthless, unprofessional. I know I am none of those things. I am a wife and mother, daughter and sister, friend and coworker. I know I am loved and valued. That is what keeps me from telling anybody about what actually has been going on inside my mind for the past six months. The thought of trying to finish my thesis actually sparks recurring thoughts of cutting my arms or of swallowing handfuls of pills. I have never been suicidal in my life. I don't want to die. I have no idea why these thoughts take shape in my mind, but I can see them vividly. They impress themselves upon me multiple times a day.

When I'm not feeling the pressure, the thoughts are not there, but when I am, they are frighteningly present. Just yesterday I went to the bathroom medicine cabinet and checked to see if we had razor blades and did a quick inventory of the medicine bottles. Their presence comforted me. And all of this I did rather matter-of-factly. I did not contemplate it. I just up and walked in there and did it with the same absentminded mechanics as one gets up to reach a ringing telephone. It was what the moment called for, it seems.

I know that some people who know me, who are around me, can see that something is wrong. A couple of dear friends have told me so. But what they see is the surface--the stress, not the depths--the darkness. And what they probably assume is that once the thesis is finished the stress will go away. What they don't know, what I hesitate to tell them, is that I don't know that it will. I am scared that it won't. I am not a fearful person, but that scares me. Some things, once their strength is tested, are forever weakened by the test even though they pass. I have never thought of myself as weak, but I do now.

I try not to feed these thoughts by worrying and wringing my hands about them. I use conversation, television, blogging, Facebook, obsessively cleaning my kitchen, and basically the daily activity of life to try to simultaneously avoid it and make sense of it. I want to be clear: I have NO intention of carrying out what I see in my mind. But I fear what might happen if I don't find a way to deal with this. Getting out of one's own head is not an easy thing to do, especially when the landscape is so unfamiliar. It's a very strange and disconcerting to feel truly lost in one's own mind. To not recognize one's own tendencies or desires or motivations. The temptation is to explore, to try to figure it out, to solve the puzzle. But the landscape here is rather scary. I don't want to know where it leads.

Time Out

Apologies to all of you, Basement readers and contributors, for the extended lapse in posting this month - I've been away dealing with the death of my father.

Normal posting will resume next week.

Again, so sorry.

Processing

Posted by Anonymous.

I don't even think I am mad. I might just be hurt. Shattered. How could he do that? I wasn't really expecting anything except the Ale-8 that I brought to celebrate 2 years, we really don't have the money, he's not a big gift giver anyway.... but, I have to hit apple+v a thousand times a day because HE spilled OJ on the keyboard. And right now it hurts every single stinking time I want to type a c, the memory.... at least he hasn't used the computer since so I don't have to wonder what web address might I accidentally paste? Happy anniversary huh?

What was he thinking to just leave that site there? For me to find the first time I wanted to type a c. and why did I have to say anything? I could have just pretended. What did I do wrong? I know I have a part in this too... I'm too skinny. I'm always angry, depressed, needy. I nag and argue in public. I am not respectful or appreciative enough. I was always bugging and taking pictures of him. Should we have had more sex? Better sex? The dishes are dirty. The bedroom needs vacuumed. I’m the one who installed stumbleupon. (SERIOUSLY that is the first thing he said when I asked him. "Stumbleupon is dangerous!?" no show of shame or apology!!! Maybe I am just a little mad) he had to make his own coffee yesterday morning. I went to bed without him last night...he even told me I should wait up with him. Did he know he was warning me?!? what if I didn't do those things? what if just changing one would have made a difference.

I talked to him just the other week.. About selfishness and impulse control and trustworthiness and my snickers bar. And I trusted him anyways.

I didn't want to bring what my dad did into this relationship. I forgave my dad, my mom forgave my dad and so I trusted him. I didn’t look over his shoulder out of distrust just bored curiosity, a desire to be connected. I never looked at the browser histories. (I still haven't. fear this time not trust.) It took a lot of work and prayer to get there. Does he not know that? Can I get back?

And now all the questions. Just one site? Just one time? How long is not in awhile? On MY computer before this? Just looking? Or more. I can't even contemplate more. I don't even want the answers.

And no "sorry" the one time I realllly needed to hear it. He rarely says sorry. But today when I hurt so bad. Just this one time, and I still had to ask to hear it. I hate myself for having to ask.

He's Terminal

Posted by Anonymous.

My husband’s step-father, K, has been in our lives for almost as long as we’ve been together. They got married the year before we did. Since my husband had never had a father in his life, he was thrilled that his mother had finally found someone. Thrilled that she was happy, thrilled that he could finally build a relationship with a ‘father’. They both enjoy sports, and fishing (zzzz)… they both are pranksters that love to laugh. K is indisputably the most outgoing person on the planet – any time someone new walked by, he wants to say hi, see if they need anything, give, help, love. My husband is loving, but not nearly as outgoing and open.

We had our son in 2005. Immediately there was a bond between he and K. Immediately, my husband and I noticed that K was not being quite as supportive as we needed him to be as new, young parents. I struggled with breastfeeding my colicky son. “Just give him a bottle before he starves to death.” As he got older, we set boundaries and rules. Our son thrives on a rigid schedule. K didn’t understand. “Why is he going to bed so early? It’s the weekend.” He gave him loads of sugar that our high-energy, spirited son did not need… and then sent him home for us to deal with. He didn’t understand that smoking around our asthmatic son was probably not the best idea. He would volunteer to watch him for the weekends, and when he returned to us, our son would be miserably overtired, wheezing, and in desperate need of something OTHER than fast food or junk.

We had numerous conversations with K and my husband’s mother about how our rules need to respected. Yes, we understand that grandparents spoil their grandchildren and bend the rules – but we know what he needs to thrive. Within our rules, spoil him. Yes, he can have a piece of cake. No, he can’t have half of a cake. Yes, he can go to bed a half an hour late. No, 10:30 is probably WAY PAST HIS BEDTIME. Yes, he can watch TV. No, not for three hours straight. AND NO – shoot-em-up action movies with monsters are PROBABLY not the best idea for a three year old with an overactive imagination.

Yes, I’m a bit overprotective. Am I ridiculous? No.

Two and a half years ago, K had brain surgery for an aneurism. He was told to follow his doctor’s advice on nutrition, since he is a diabetic. He didn’t, and never has. He was told to quit smoking before his surgery. He didn’t. He was told by his doctors to a lot of things that he didn’t do. He was emphatic that he was going to die. He spent as much time as he possibly could with all of his grandchildren.

Yes, just his grandchildren. No, my husband has never gotten the father figure he wanted. K ignores him, mostly, and myself, unless our son is involved in the conversation. He spends more time greeting strangers than talking to us. We’re told that he has nothing but good things to say about us to others – but he really hasn’t made much of an effort to get to know either of us. So… I’m not exactly sure what it is that he says.

He survived his surgery.

And less than a year later was diagnosed with cancer. Lung cancer. He still didn’t quit smoking. Eventually, the cancer went into remission. And then came back. He still wasn’t following any advice from his doctors - he had to be coaxed into the radiation and chemotherapy treatments, and would postpone them or skip them whenever he felt the need. (I do understand that radiation and chemo are not easy on your body and that it is probably easier for me to say JUST GO GET IT BECAUSE IT COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE than it is to subject yourself to those kinds of treatments. But. It is still difficult for me to reconcile why someone wouldn't want to take these steps when there is still a very good chance that they could heal you. And also, knowing that the quicker that you respond to cancer, the more of a chance that you can get rid of it....)

He still was convinced that he was going to die.

Now, a year and a half later, he is terminal. The cancer has spread to his liver. And although he has quit smoking, I am angry with him. I am angry that he never listens to anyone. About anything. Not doctors, not us, not his wife. And that someday soon, my 3 ½ year old son is going to lose the grandfather that he loves so much, and there is a part of me that feels like if he had just listened to his doctors along the way - about the diabetes, the aneurysm, the smoking, the nutrition, the resting, ALL OF IT - maybe we wouldn’t be here. I am angry that he let my husband down, and – unintentional as I’m sure it was – that K reinforced his feelings of rejection from his own father. I am angry that strangers are more important to him than we are. I am angry that he is depressed, because even though it isn’t all his fault, I feel like he does have a degree of guilt.

I am angry that he is dying. And I am angry that I could never tell him, or anyone else, any of this.