the big one

I've held onto this one. This is perhaps the one I may never let go of. It changes you.

She made a decision. One that brought my brother into this world. She was not faithful to my father and my brother is the proof of that. I love my brother. It's not his fault. She completely broke my family. She chose his father.

She would sneak him into the house we lived in on base while my father was away. He would hide in the car  as we passed the entrance gate. He would stay at our house and their door would be closed and I was left alone. I was only 5. I knew something was up. I grew up way to fast and this was where it all started.

She became pregnant and we moved out with him. My parents began the awful process of divorce. He did something and ended up in jail. She gave birth to my brother while he was in jail. My father was there for the birth. My father held him before his own father ever did. He helped my mom recover from the birth then they promptly seperated. He came home from jail and it began.

The abusive behavior, rages, fights and screams. I still hear it and remember how scared I was. He hurt her. Badly. Often. Punching her, slapping and pushing, choking her. I heard the excuses she gave people about the black eyes and bruised ribs and bloody noses. He threw me a few times as I tried to escape and call for help or to stand in front of her and protect. As a 6 year old.

He wanted to move. All the way across the country from California to Rhode Island. She didn't know what to do. I begged her not to do this. I begged her to choose me. She didn't.

We moved to Rhode Island. My brother was about a year old. He went ahead of us and she flew with 2 small children from California to Rhode Island. My brother broke his arm in the layover at Chicago. We landed in Rhode Island and it started up the very next day. We stayed at his parents home for a while and the abuse continued and everybody acted like they didn't know. Like they couldn't hear her screams and calls for help.

He ran her over with an SUV. Nobody did anything. He punched her so much her teeth came out. Nobody did anything.

She married him. It was June and hot and humid and I begged her not to do this. Choose me. She didn't.

The abuse continued and one day we made an escape. We ran. We found a shelter to protect us for a bit. All I had was what I could carry in my backpack. Some clothes, a toothbrush. This is the year I changed schools 10 times. He found us and we went back to him. Then escaped again. One time he found us driving along a road and he tried to make us crash. It was the night time and he was driving a white mazda truck. I'll never forget those tail lights. He rammed our car and kept on us for a long time. That was before cell phones. There was no calling for help.

After staying at many different shelters and safe houses somehow we got to go home. We flew to Arizona. Stayed with family and drove back to California where we stayed in a shelter for a while. I never felt safe. Never felt like I had a home, a place to call mine. I was always worried, on edge, knots in my stomach, afraid he would find us. It took a very long time, over a decade to become comfortable with getting the mail by myself, going to a grocery store or walking in a parking lot.

I wish she had chosen me, for once. This experience made me. It was so impactful on my life, my personality that it crippled me and made me untrusting and scared.

hurry! hide your success

Since I moved out and got my degree and got married and began earning a decent living....I've had to hide my success. For example, if John and I treat ourselves to something like a new DVD player, when she comes over, we hide it. Not because we have to but because if we don't, this is what we get, "Must be nice."

I don't like to be made to feel ashamed about the successes that I've earned in my life. So, I hide them.

John and I have done this since we moved out together to avoid making her feel bad for not being able to have the same things. I've always been a little bitter about the subject because she chooses to use her money in certain ways and we choose others. Our choices have allowed us to enjoy life a bit more, spoil ourselves from time to time. I shouldn't be made to feel bad about that. I've also been confused by her reaction. Aren't parents supposed to want their kids to be successful? I know I do.

music and pretty things

Getting a degree in something that doesn't inspire me or make me love Mondays was a bad decision. I talked about that in i want to care. It also stripped away my passion. Ripped out my creativity and left behind a cold, empty person that was only concerned about earning and producing. This is not a healthy thing for me. After college I hardly knew what I liked anymore. Who I was or what my style was. I had no love for the things I use to enjoy like, drawing, painting, music etc. It's taken me 5 years to rediscover only parts of myself that were lost. It's a slow process.

Recently I realized how much I missed music. Sure I 'll play it in the car but I don't really hear it, I'm too busy thinking about my to-do list. I don't feel it like I use to. The way that it could transport you. I created a station on pandora to listen to at work. All the old stuff I grew up with. Then, it hit me. I miss feeling. I miss the enjoyment of music. So, I'm making a change and including it in my life again. My toddler loves to dance so this is perfect. Playing something while we make dinner or while we clean or while I take a shower. I've missed you music. Welcome back.

Pretty things. I've overlooked pretty things, art, photos, pillows and plates. Our home has been stark naked because I've made sure we only buy things that have function. We don't need stuff on our walls to live, right? Wrong. Looking at something aesthetically pleasing reduces stress and puts a smile on my face. And that is a function. So, I'm going to allow myself to enjoy the beauty of a pretty plate or feel the excitement in an image on my wall.

I'm learning. It doesn't have to be all business. I can enjoy this life.

Down

I admire happy people. And I hate them, too. Maybe I'm just jealous.

Life has always been a hard task to handle. Each day is hard to put one foot in front of the other. I've wondered if it would always feel like that. Like I'm moving through quicksand and I'm too tired to go on. Is this all I can expect out of life?

The only thing in this world that makes me happy is my son. His smile, his laugh, his cute little face. I don't care about anything else. Without him, I wouldn't exist. It's just too hard and I'm not strong enough.

My depression or the hormonal changes of pregnancy are running rampant in my body. I'm unhappy with my life. I never thought it would be this way. I hate my job, my mother doesn't care about us, my husband doesn't help me with anything, I'm exhausted and lonely. I'm down. Tears keep welling up behind my eyes, threatening to overflow. This is too much.

i want to care

I went college thinking I wanted to study veterinary science. Then I changed to business then back again. Finally, after feeling lost for a semester, I took a personality test in the student center. The results pointed to something creative or something in business.

I scoured the list of suggested careers and related majors and still felt overwhelmed. Math teacher, banker, accountant, actuary, writer, photographer and the list went on for pages and pages. In the end I went to the top of the alphabetical list and said I might as well give this one a shot. So I took an intro accounting class and understood the content. The instructor said if you get it you should think about it as a career path, if you don't, just drop it. I got it. I stayed in, not because I loved it or had a feeling of satisfaction from being able to write up journal entries for the general ledger. I stayed in because I understood it. It was something I had the ability to do but not the passion to do.

I also based my decision on the fact that I would always have a job and a paycheck. After living paycheck to paycheck with my mother, I knew I couldn't continue that into my adult life. Too stressful. So I racked up 4 years worth of student loans to get my degree in accounting.

Not the best decision. Yes, I've always had a job. Yes, I can feed my family. BUT I've not once been happy in my career choices. I just don't care about the work I do. I do the work. I do it correctly and accurately only because I like the paycheck. I do not get excited about my work. I just don't care. I'm not making a difference in any one's life, changing the world, making it a better place, doing anything meaningful and I'm definitely not making me happy. I get irritated with people in my office who are married to their work. Who act like it's the only thing in the world that matters. I want to rip their faces to shreds.

I punch the clock and urge the day to go faster because sitting behind a desk is torture. Staring at spreadsheets is maddening. Especially when you do unrewarding work. I have like 30 more years of this. Really? I can't. I just can't.

I want to care. I want to love what I do. I want to wake up Monday and be excited to go to work. I want to bring joy and beauty and excitement to people's lives. I don't have dreams of being rich. I don't need a big house and fancy car. I just want to enjoy life and be creative.

I have a strong feeling this has contributed to my bouts of depression. I get very down about it. Down that I spend 8 hours away from my child doing things I hate. If I was doing something that made me happy then I could justify spending a little time away from my baby.

So, does this exist? Is there ever a balance between paying bills and having a great career or do I have to choose?

I don't know how to fix this. I have to make a change or I'll most definitely be unhappy.

I want to care.

College Orientation

I started college right after highschool. So, about a month after graduating from highschool I had freshman orientation at the university. Of course, I had already moved out and had been doing things on my own and making my own way for a couple of months already. Still, I found myself lonely and feeling jealous when I showed up at orientation to find students and their parents in attendance. It's just not something she did. She had work and other obligations I understand. Yet, it would have been nice to have that support there. It was scary being a new kid in a HUGE university.

After I let that feeling fall away, I try and be more appreciative that I was forced to do things on my own. Even when others had their families with them. I wasn't cottled or sheltered. I think I can attribute this to my survival. I've never asked for money or other help in any way. I've always handled the tough things on my own. Or had the support of John. I should be more appreciative of the things I've experienced on my own.

I went to college for the standard 4 years and not once did she come to see my life. To see the things I encountered and how far I'd made it.

It's Everyone Else

My Dad heard from my aunt this weekend that she spoke with my mother and that they concluded I am mad at my father and taking it out on my mother and my aunt (I'm not speaking to either of them). Does that make sense? It doesn't make sense even if I squint.

My aunt is a whole other story. I'm not speaking to her because she mistreats me and I don't need it in my life. It brings me down. It's insulting and rude.

They both have the same attitude. It must be someone elses fault. It can't possibly be something they've done or said. They are perfect.

I've seen that behavior for as long as I can remember. She can't take responsibility for her actions and words. She never apologizes. She can't hold a job because someone is always out to get her. Someone is always talking badly about her and trying to push her out and no one likes her but it's their problem.

All my life I've been the one to apologize for things I didn't do or say. Just to mend things. Just to move on. I've always led her to believe she's done no wrong. I can't let that continue. So this stalemate continues as we head into the 4th month of not talking.

I can only hope that one day she can look at herself for a change. Evaluate herself and admit that something needs changing. I admit daily that I am wrong. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I've made sure that in my marriage I admit when I'm wrong and in parenting. I admit it, apologize and try something else. Move on. Fault doesn't have to be a horrible thing. I think it takes a bigger person to admit shortfalls and mistakes.