Regrets

We all have them.  We all have tons that we openly admit to others.  We have some darker ones that we keep to ourselves.  We have maybe one or two that we share with a close someone.  Shit if I don't have a half a dozen to two dozen regrets.  I regret making out with my girlfriend because she ended up being a piece of shit.  I regret cheating on Chris Vincent because he really is a good, solid dude.  I regret flirting with that guy behind the bar that one time because I got too drunk and puked all over my shoes.  See, who doesn't have at least a few regrets hidden and tucked away for rehashing from time to time.

 

Some of us are lucky enough to have that one regret that plays over and over in our minds until it drives us stark raving mad or at least super extra uncomfortable that we tuck it away for another time to dust off and drive ourselves crazy with.  I have one of those, and it's kind of a doozy.  Although, to be fair, whenever one says that, it is, in fact, a doozy to them.  It's my doozy, not your doozy, but it doesn't make it any less shitty. 

 

 

I miss my dad.  I remember the defining moment like it was this morning.  He called my house, and I told my then-husband to tell him to fuck off.  I told him to fuck off because I thought I was doing the right thing; having another family member's back.  I mean, hell, he hurt that family member really bad so I was informed.  It was only my civic duty as a family member to stand by this person through thick and thin, no matter the consequences.  I guess I never really did give any thought to the fact that he might not be there the next day to accept my apology should I ever find it in me to offer him. 

 

 

I have never in my life felt such remorse for being such a piece of shit to my father as that moment.  I relive that moment just about once every other month.  It doesn't sound like a lot, but when it hurts so bad you cry in your car on the way home from work because you don't want anyone to know what a fucking asshole you feel like, then, yeah, it's often enough.  I wish to my very soul that I had taken that phone call.  I do not believe that he would still be alive this evening because of that.  I just believe that I would have been able to have a couple more months of added memories with my dad.  I am so much like him that sometimes I get angry, but then when I take a minute to think about why he acted the way he did sometimes growing up, and because I am a mom now, I almost fully understand why he reacted the way he did. 

 

 

I didn't have my dad's back at an incredibly crucial time.  In fact, I didn't even need to have anyone's back per se, but yet I took sides, I stood a ground that wasn't mine to stand on.  I regret it once every other month, in my car, on my way home from work.  I won't do it again.  You can't walk a fine line without consequences however, and that is why I won't walk that line.  I've chosen the path on which I walk; the path with not the greatest of outcomes, the path with some shitty consequences.  I will continue to choose sides because you walk this earth as a line walker or a back sider.  This time, I choose me. 

 

I miss my dad.  He deserved so much better than I gave him.  It's up to me to forgive myself for the way I treated him.  Maybe this is the beginning of that self-forgiveness.  I will do for me and mine what I need to do even if it hurts others' feelings in the process.  My only intention is to keep the happiness I have found and helped create close to my heart.  Not everyone is allowed in.  It's my turn to have my own back.  I apologize if some aren't allowed to follow.

The Best Year

I never know how to start these things.  I go for months without writing in text.  I write constantly in my mind, but something always gets in the way.  It's life because that's what always gets in the way.  The difference between when I used the word "life" a couple of years ago and when I use the word "life" now is something I'm not able to put into words that could describe the difference enough.  I don't even know that I could come close to touching the differences.

 

I'm sitting here in front of this screen a day and a half before Christmas with the gratitude that a mom of a newborn feels when grandma and grandpa suddenly announce they'll take the baby overnight.  I often feel like I'm going to blow this good shit I have going on by doing or saying something wrong.  I often get my breath taken away from me at times like this when I'm sitting with utter quiet reflecting upon the goodness that I've been allowed to have.

 

I've had some difficult times; some I've shared with people and some I have not.  I've had more than my fair share of self-doubt, and I know I've said some things I can't take back or thought some things that I hope to hell don't come true.  All those times I have joked about being the reason I have a kid in therapy has come true, and I can openly admit how very grateful I am to have some amazing people in my corner.  I have some serious thank you cards to write to some amazingly wonderful and attentive teachers and guidance counselors, for without them I do not believe my daughter would be as well off as she is.  I always thought I was on top of her and was one step ahead of her.  I have been schooled once again.  Although, I am reminded again and again what an amazing child I have and what a kind soul she has and what a loving creature she is.  I'll take the good with the bad if at the end of the day I can say, yes, that is my daughter and she has a beautiful soul.

 

I have a kindergartener, and he is a boy.  I have a five-year-old boy.  Yes, yes, I do, and yes, that boy does growl at me more often than not lately, and yes, that boy does Hulk-it-up more than I would like, but that boy also looked at me tonight and Eskimo kissed me with that little freckled nose of his and kissed me for no reason at all.  That's a lie; we went out for pizza, but screw you if you think I won't take that as a win.  I also have a boy who has dealt with more than his fair share of bullshit than he should have to deal with.  He is, after all, a big bother.  I never expected, nor wanted, him to be a big brother.  I loved knowing he was a great little brother who had an amazing big sister.  I've had to come to terms with this in my own way, and while I may be struggling some days, this boy is doing much better than his 40-year-old mom.  I'll take the good with the bad if at the end of the day I can say, yes, that is my son and he has a beautiful soul.

 

I have this friend who recently said something to me along the lines of my year has had a storybook ending.  That line has had me smiling since I read it because, while I know it hasn't been without its struggles, I do, in fact, have as close to a storybook story as I can have.  There is no storybook ending because, as cheesy as it sounds, it's still going.  I'm still writing that story, and I have plenty of empty pages to keep filling.  The man in question is currently laid up in bed while I write this, and he has had a very long hospital day, but just like my mom instincts kick in with my kids, it kicked in immediately with him.  I always knew I would take good care of him, but the mom inside me is an amazing being.  She took over without giving me a chance to say a word.  She is a pretty amazing chick.  I'm grateful for the hurting human being in our bed.  It gives me another chance to take care of him and to thank him for willingly walking into our lives and making it so that I know what happy really means.

 

I can say that I am really and truly looking forward to this upcoming year.  I'm realistic and know that there will be downs to go with the ups, but I am ready for them.  I've made it through some shitty moments.  This year hands down has shown me that all the dark hallways have the capability of leading to amazing roads that cross paths with some pretty amazing people.  I do hope I am not jinxing myself by saying any of this out loud.

 

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Much Love, Much Happiness, Much Strength from me to you,

April...

I Banish You Frustration Tears

The frustration inside builds until I either want to cry or I end up lashing out at someone, anyone, and it's never the person(s) that is/are the root of that frustration.  I'm trying to believe that not everyone is an asshole, and so when I let that teetering wall I own budge a little and let someone in, I let them in full force.  I mean, shit, why bother letting anyone in if you're not going to be 100%; all or nothing in my book.  There surely is no point in being half a friend or half a lover or half a shoulder to cry on.

I will never understand the way some human beings exist on this earth and continue to treat people the way they do.  I am not of the understanding of befriending someone to get something from them.  That idea is foreign to me.  I also don't understand at this time in my life how I am so naive in the workings of the human population and how I can get it so fucking wrong so many fucking times.

This is the definition of a friend:

1.  a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard;

2.  a person who gives assistance; a patron; supporter;

3.  a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile.

This really isn't all that hard of a feat to accomplish with people.  Why can't we all be so black and white insisting that you're either friend or foe.  In simplistic terms, grow up.  If you find yourself not falling into the above three with an individual, stop faking it.  Trust me, they won't mind if you go away because when you go away you take with you all the fake and fake is not anything I need in my days.

I don't wish for anything but contentment in my life.  It's already complicated enough with divorces and family bullshit and children's needs and work that I wish not to add the fake into the mix.  However, I'm a sucker and will give my heart to anyone who might need it.  I mean, it's big enough to offer up to those in need.  However, shame on you for taking advantage of the kindness I offer and that of many others that you treat in such a manner.

I'm going to try my fucking hardest to reclaim my wall that has been played with.  I wish I could say thank you to the handful of assholes that are roaming in and out of my days right now, but the harm you cause trickles down to the ones I love, and for that you disgust me.   When I look past you, please know that it's because I have written you out as you do not deserve the love and the trust you were one given so freely.  I'll be busy looking at those that hold my heart close to them looking to me for nothing but compassion and friendship.  I'll wipe my frustration tears away, but you can't wipe away the black ash that sits upon you weighing you down that only those you've betrayed can see.

Surrounded by Bad Asses

There are two things in my world that are very diverse; my music and my friends.  I don't really see how this is a bad thing.  I have well over 400 songs on my phone (which I need more of damnit) and I have quite a smaller number of friends (which I am very happy about damnit).  

I got to thinking about these two things this morning as the first text conversation I had today was rife with poop discussion.  That was one of the first smiles I had this morning.  How can one not smile and feel grateful when they wake up next to their best friend and have a bodily function kind of conversation with another all within a ten-minute time span.  

My music crosses all sorts of genres just as my friends do, and I'm positive that the one thing each and every friend of mine has in common is their sense of humor.  They all have a different level of humor, but it all comes down to one point:  they all "get" me and they all have a knack for making me laugh whether it's through tears I'm producing over some shit that happened or just a paragraph of profanities I just let slip out of my mouth because my mind was overwhelmed with too many sentence enhancers to hold in.  

I've got friends near and far.  I've got a best friend who, without a second thought, wields a knife through my house looking for an intruder simply because of a meowing cat at the window.  (That's a good story to share some day over drinks.)  I've got friends that I haven't met in person yet feel like they are my brothers and sisters.  I've got friends that I have finally met in person that felt like we just hung out the day prior.  I've got friends near that I don't see nearly enough, but when we get together it's as if days never stood between us.  I've got friends I see almost daily that always seem like a new story is made from our hangouts.  I've got friends that are stuck with me at work yet I'm not sick of them (and let's only hope they aren't sick of me in return).  I've got new friends that I've made recently, and while we aren't thisclose yet, it's evident they've got my back.  

Basically, what this girl has got is a pretty bad ass team of fucked up funny people around me, and you should definitely take that as a compliment.  You all hold a different past experience for being in my life, but the one constant is that you all are amazing souls who have my back in a heartbeat.  No fear, I won't have you battle to the death for me or any shit like that, but I do expect you to keep up with the funnies and the love and the kindness because even on my worst bitchiest and crankiest day, I promise to not forget what you have done for me simply because you cared enough to try to put a smile on my face.

My Maturity Level and Me ...

So Andrew and I were at his school's carnival yesterday, and I had the not-so-much-pleasure of seeing my ex-husband there.  I would like to believe that it's a step in the right direction that I didn't feel as though I wanted to murder him on the spot; I only wanted to puke all over his ugly ass sneakers.  Yeah, that's right, I said ugly ass sneakers.  I'm not above being a petty little bitch.  I couldn't stand his laugh or his smile or his stupid voice, and I really couldn't have been more overjoyed at his announcement of leaving the carnival.  However, this wasn't about me and my disgust and dislike of the man.  This was about Andrew and him being super excited to see his dad and play carnival games with his dad and go on rides and show off for his dad.

As much as I dislike the man I once called my husband, I do feel much happiness when Andrew's face lights up when he sees his dad.  There are plenty of kids that I know who don't have their dad around or who have a dad that only shows up when he feels like it or who only pays child support from time to time and has no desire to see his kid(s).  No matter the circumstances surrounding our divorce (it's mostly his fault though for sure) he is a good dad and for that I am grateful.  I love my boy more than I could ever put into words, those of you with boys can understand, and his happiness comes before mine.  

That's not to say, however, that I never have an overwhelming urge to stomp my feet and pout and cry whenever Andrew shows excitement from seeing his dad.  I'm only human, and I most definitely am a mom, and so help me God, if that man ever hurts him in any way, he will very much be afraid of me.  I still am saddened for the day when Andrew is older and can put two and two together, but I'm optimistic that when that day eventually comes I will have done a better job at raising him than I think I have been doing.  

In the meantime, I will continue to put my boy's well-being ahead of my own childish desires because he is worth so much more to me, and I am very grateful that he has a dad that is involved in his life.  That doesn't stop me and my immaturity from thinking he's a big jerk-face asshole with ugly sneakers and a smile I want to punch right off his stupid jerk head; the big dummy-face.  I would still love to take the ball I'm stomping home with and shove it up his ass, but I'll just smile and wave goodbye and take Andrew's hand in mine, give it a little squeeze and smile when he squeezes mine back.

More Blah Blah Blah...

There is that tell-tale sign of me doing some thinking again; my wrist hurts from twirling my hair into knots.  I sit in my car detangling the tiny knots I've twisted my hair into thinking about what it was that I was thinking about.  Oh yeah, now I've got it; the usual, my body image issues or what I'll just state plain and simple, my fat ass.

I mean I'm not looking to be this svelte hottie who can prance around in a bikini without a care in the world other than making sure my hair is in just the right place and that I smell just like the bottle of suntan oil I most recently used.  Let's face it, folks, my realty is that I'm trying to hide my hips from the beach peoples while trying to make sure my tits don't fall out of my bathing suit hoping to hell no one can smell my pits as I bake in the sun.  Fuck it, I've just convinced myself to stay the fuck home and not hit the beach until at least 5:00 p.m. this summer, when the sun is going down and the hotties with their perfectly manicured nails leave for the day.

All I want is for my inner goddess to be happy with her outer shell.  There is somewhere the happy place where I accept that I am not going to be the "Perfect 10" (whatever the hell that shit is) and just love myself for being real.  Hell, at this point I would be happy to just like myself a tiny bit and to stop berating myself inside my head.  

I recently (re)joined a fitness site thinking I sure as hell could use the motivation.  That backfired on me as quickly as trusting a fart during a recent bought of sickness.  I mean it's not that I'm not happy for those assholes losing weight seemingly so easily.  It's just fuck you, I don't need anyone else reminding me of my failures.  It's like all those goddamn Facebook posts showing off your Tough Mudder accomplishments; I'm proud of you for said accomplishments because I'm seriously not that shitty of a person, but I hate you for reminding me that I am fully capable of doing something so awesome yet my motivation suffers from the ever so popular incredible and crippling not-giving-a-shit.

So here it comes full circle with my hair twisted into knots that I'm reminding myself yet again that it is up to me and me only to do something for myself, to better myself, to make me like me more.  I have amazing qualities that I won't list for you, and I need to take some of those qualities off the shelf, dust them off and use them to remind myself that I am more than the negatives I repeatedly use against me.  

I have come quite a long way in the past two years.  It's now time to be kind and give my inner goddess a break.  She deserves to be treated nicely for she has most certainly kicked some ass as of late.  I deserve it as well.