Category Archives: alone

Daddy.

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Daddy.

I feel the need to openly speak my truths, even though it seems dramatic and juvenile. Call it what you will-I call it necessary.
Over six years ago, things got weird with my father. The man who cheated on my mother, and I forgave countless times over the years-even after being uninvited to my paternal Grandfather’s funeral because I monetarily was flat broke to get there and 8.5 months pregnant.
I forgave him for shunning me out of his life once again. He finally met our daughter when she was almost a year old. After we almost lost her during my pregnancy due to a rapidly growing cyst. I underwent major surgery and went into preterm labor, and we all survived. With the love and support of my father and new in-laws and maternal side all rooting for us. But that didn’t last long with him…
Over the years it became an emotional roller coaster of taking sides and fighting amongst the family. But my father and his wife stood by our sides after we mended fences years before.
This brings us to about six years ago, as I stated earlier. We were so close. In 2008, Our home burned down a few years prior, and my father opened his newly purchased condo to us. I remember pulling my husband aside, in all the confusion and heartache, and saying this would destroy our relationship with them…sure enough, I guess it did.
Fast forward to 2011-I had a feeling I might be pregnant when things were getting weird with my father and step mother. It had been over a year since we moved out of their condo and back home. There was plenty of tension over the course of the year living there, but we put up with it, feeling guilty and grateful for having a place to live while we rebuilt our life and home.
It started with a mild disagreement with my father over the phone about painters he hired(our neighbors who we apprehensively recommended for the job).
My father seemed out of sorts and flipped out at my husband who he generally got along really well with.
They had heated words, and I told my husband to end the call civilly if it escalated.
Well it escalated… for days.
My last actual phone call with my father was bizarre. Very heated on his end, coming from a man who always very mellow and calm.
I had promised myself not to get upset and freak out, because I had a feeling I was pregnant…and almost 40. I was terrified I could jeopardize this gift coming our way so late in our lives.

I listened to his berating and accusations. I tried to calmly challenge him. Not sure how it ended, but I do remember an email telling me with expletives (as he swears we referred to my step mother) that he chose the B@tch over all of us…and soon after sold his home and beach condo and moved to Arizona.
I am coming forward to call my father out, (who I adored), for being a no good nothing.
He didn’t fight for us when we were toddlers, he didn’t fight for us as teens. He tolerated us as adults.
Not sure if it was his own doing, but regardless, any man that can walk away THREE times from his daughter, and now all three daughters and 14 grandchildren (some he doesn’t even know) for the past six years…I hope he can look in that mirror and say it was worth it. Because I know his mother, and father, and sister would not approve of the lies.
Stop sharing our pictures and pretending you care and have this big diverse beautiful family…because you do NOT know this family. Giving the grandkids that you DO still occasionally speak to, an HOUR of your time when it fits your schedule when you live in Arizona? Why bother?
They’d be better off without the offer.
I loved you.
I adored the idea of my daddy loving me back finally. Of wanting to know me and loving my kids…who by the way, have no desire to speak to him again…they adored him…he did the same to them as he did to me and my sisters forty years ago…
All I have left to say, is I loved you, Dad.
But I bid you farewell.
Stay away.
It hurts too much.

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Anxiety.

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Anxiety.

Anxiety.

It overwhelms me. Last night was the worst in a long time. I lost three hours of sleep because of it.

Alone with my thoughts and not sure what to do with myself…

My husband took our kids to his Mother’s for a visit..an overnight.

It was a gift to me…something I am always wishing for, or complaining that I never have time to myself, to do what I want, whenever I want…

Well, my wish came true. I had almost two whole days alone to do whatever I wanted.

I admit, I sat here, in front of the t.v. thinking that was what I really wanted, even though I had requested this time alone to “get stuff done” around the house.

I sat in front the t.v. wasting an hour of my time thinking that was one thing I never get to do…watch whatever I want. I zoned out like a moron, not finding anything remotely enjoyable to satisfy the need for something other than cartoons and cooking shows.

So I got motivated…I cleaned out closets and did laundry, and dusted…I was very productive for hours...then went to dinner with some family and really enjoyed myself…I didn’t have to take anyone to the bathroom at the restaurant or cut someone else’s food or be interrupted in my conversations. It was enjoyable.

Until I fell sound asleep, thanks to a few cocktails and a full belly and lots of cleaning all afternoon…I knew I would sleep well.

Or so I had hoped.

I woke at three a.m., heart racing feeling dizzy and confused. Why was I sleeping on the sofa? Where was everyone? I realized I was alone.

Just me.

I thought of every happy thought I could bring to mind…put on a bad sitcom…checked in on my blog to see my stats rising after having it re-blogged for the first time…

Nothing would shake it.

Anxiety…panic…whatever you want to call it…it wasn’t leaving.

It makes me jittery now just remembering how freaked out and bad my anxiety got.

I am terrified to be alone.

I used to live alone for a few years, and I loved it. That was pre-marriage and pre-kids…but still…I did it before, so why can’t I do it now? Why cant I enjoy it like I did then? Because someday in the future, all the kids will be gone-off to explore themselves create their own lives.

and I will have my husband, but there will be times when I will be alone again…and that causes me even more anxiety to think I may hate it or fear it.

This is who I am now, I guess…so deal with it…buck up woman!

But I don’t want anxiety…I want to feel peaceful and calm and enjoy life…

Maybe I need to do it more often so it isn’t such a scary thing…but for now…

I survived the night…I am very tired and rattled today, but thankful that my family returns today and will have a full house again…

anxiety

Until we meet again, Anxiety.

Clean House.

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Clean House.

I DO appreciate a clean house.

My house is rarely ever spic and span clean, but occasionally it is for about an hour.  Today is my cleaning day…not a beach day or errand day…but a much needed cleaning day.

Yes we load/unload the dishwasher daily. And fold mountains of clothes daily…even scrub the bathroom multiple times per week with seven people in one tiny house…but clean clean weekly?

Nope.

Haven’t done this kind of cleaning in months.

Dust has moved in almost permanently as well as cat hair on literally every piece of furniture and somehow lampshade.

Organizing? Forget it…

Almost every drawer and closet is filled to capacity with misplaced items shoved in wherever they will fit.

Clean houses don’t seem to go hand in hand with busy lives…we shove things away to make the small living spaces look tidy, as we run out the door for the tenth time in a day. I may even occasionally use a dirty dish towel to dust off a few table surfaces as I walk the towels up to the laundry basket. If I am lucky, I will hit all three tables I pass by on my way up the stairs, if not too distracted with the twenty pairs of shoes/books/papers/bags piled on each step on my way up the stairs.

In my distraction up to the laundry, I may even notice the clumps of ever-growing cat hairs on the stairs, and blow them down with my breath to the landing (so then they are more consolidated) or use my now very dusty dish towel to shoo them down below.

Entering the hall bathroom where all the laundry hides in the closet, I come across wet towels and clothing strewn across the floor, then see the closet oozing with more wet towels and clothes as if it vomited dirty clothes all over the floor.

I remind myself daily that all these chores can be done quickly if all seven of us pitched in one day a week (along with the bickering of who-did-what-and-when and that they collected the trash already this week or did the dishes)instead of me giving up a whole day on the weekend…then I remind myself of these weekends…

My clean house weekends…just me, and some of my music, cleaning and schlepping up and down the stairs for hours…it sounds like torture, but for some reason, in my weird motherly way…its almost like a much needed Mommy Timeout.

I crave these days...for dusting to be an actual completed task, not just one or two tables at a time…the laundry done and put away…at least for one day.

To sit back when I am all finished, with a cocktail in hand (trust me…by the time I am done, it will be five o’clock here too) and actually seeing order in a very lived-in chaotic world.

cleaning

But in all honesty, I am starting to appreciate the messy days here as well, as two of the kids leave for college very soon…they will take some these messes with them, but also some of my heart.

My house will be a little less messy but also a lot more quiet.

I am excited for the future and watching our children grow into individuals, but I am already beginning to miss what I have today…

A very dusty/ messy/ loud home…

But also full of life and love.

Vivid Memories.

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Vivid Memories.

I was about six. Standing in a cold bathroom. Struggling to get my extremely tight-fitted shirt off my head. Tears stung my eyes. Where was my mommy or daddy to help me?

There was a knock at the door. My Kindergarten teacher’s wife was gently offering to help me with whatever it was that was holding me up. I said I was fine. Yet continued to struggle with this dumb shirt.

I was attempting to put on my witch costume for a play to perform for our families. One problem. My family wasn’t there.

I finally exited the bathroom with a disheveled costume and hair. The wife of my teacher whispered in my ear, “don’t worry…I will cheer and clap for you”…how did she know? That is what I cried and longed for….

To do this day,  I remember it as if it just happened. ..my forty-something year old eyes reliving that day through those six year old eyes…laying on the floor, peeking from under my black witch’s hat to see if the wife was really cheering and clapping for me.

She did.

My heart smiled.

That was over thirty years ago.

There are countless other vivid moments from my childhood and teen years and early adulthood that I can still feel and see…

Not sure why these things stick with me…I am certain other people share these types of memories…but why??

Is it the foundation of who we become as adults? Is it to test our strengths and weaknesses?  Is it all planned out by some higher power? Will these memories follow us into the afterlife…no matter what we believe in?

A sad moment with a family member, a serious talk with a friend, a romantic encounter…all little moments in our time threading together to our present.  To remind us maybe of who we were and who we are.

Quite possibly a life quilt of sorts…different shapes and sizes and colors. Some dark,  some vibrant. Sewn together to blanket us, make us feel safe and warm with who we have become…

I like my quilt…some days I feel like I could use another layer to protect me from the cold hard world I live in…other days,  I toss it aside. Jump up and claim this moment as mine…remembering who I am, holding back those dark moments, like my first ever school play, to enjoy the joyous day that lies before me.

quilts